Even if she did agree to it, I could tell the girl wasn't really into it by the incessant complaining that continued even after she had agreed to it. She had removed the helmet I gave her, probably so I could see every annoyed eye-roll, every curling lip of disgust. I also need to readjust the damn Helmet so it could miniaturize into her damn stupid mask.

  Thankfully, the design can be amended.

  Little victories, I can take it.

  That white creepy mask really gotta go.

  “I can’t believe I actually said yes,” she muttered for the seventh time. “PRT. Wards. Babysitting. I should’ve just let them try to catch me. Would’ve been more fun.”

  “You’d be in a cell if that happened.” I reminded her. “With a dampener collar.”

  She shot me a withering look. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve said it already, I didn't even kill anyone, so why the colour? Fuck those guys.”

  “Only because you’ve complained like the seventh time”, I said. She wouldn’t know, but if she really did keep this up, she would have ended some gangster's life. Scum life sure like Nazi’s and probably really deplorable people that deserve it according to her Modus Operandi and then the murder attempt on Grue. That’s a thing too, but she doesn't need to know that.

  “That’s because it deserves seven complaints.” She threw her hands up. “Joining the PRT? Voluntarily? What the hell was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking that you don’t want your mask ripped off in public because some rookie trooper got too eager,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You were thinking that this buys you leverage. And freedom.”

  She groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face.

  “I hate bureaucracy. I hate authority. I hate meetings. I hate rules. I hate..argh! Fuck this shit! Do I really gotta?”

  “I’m starting to pick up a pattern…hmm” She's like a mini Hulk. Angry all the time, but also at the same time she isnt. She doesn't understand why she hates the stuff she hates and resorts to anger. It's been so long I dont even remember how teenage angst worked.

  She then scowled again and continued with her rants-

  “Especially hate the idea of being on a team with a bunch of moral-compass-hugging nobodies.” When you look at her like this, she does look like a grumpy cat. Did I just allow a cat into my base?

  I raised a brow. “You’re thinking of the Protectorate. The Wards are… well, they try. Most days.” They really do try. The wards aren't exactly working like a well-oiled machine, especially during the heist with Skitter's first debut. Oh..boi, the whole team got whipped by bug girl and then some. Teamwork issue isnt something they can fix with handholding like the PRT ENE is doing right now. Not my spot to tell them what's wrong with it, too. Not my problem.

  She flopped onto one of the metal crates like a melodramatic cat. “Ugh. Try-hards. Even worse.”

  “You’re literally wearing classified Dominion gear only I have access to,” I pointed out. “Someone might mistake you for a try-hard, too.”

  She froze. Slowly turned. Narrowed her eyes. “Say that again.”

  “No thanks.” I Ishrugged while I adjusted her helmet using the tools available at base. Doing this here at the base is far better than the supply depot, considering the tools are a lot better since there’s even a research room in here.

  Sophia clicked her tongue and looked away, scowling but not denying she liked the armour. I could tell it fit her too well. Predatory. Efficient. Sleek. Not to mention, extra cool points on all the military motifs. Makes you wonder why she didn't go full military gear if she likes the aesthetics so much.

  After a few seconds, she sighed sharply. “…I hate that you make sense,” and grumped even further. Her scowl is very unique. Never knew a scowl could be so intimidating and yet…so very…very..pettable for some reason. Why do I have the urge to pet her head??

  The old man in me is really weird sometimes. Why do I remember giving out candy during treat or treating? I leave those odd thoughts out of my mind while I resume working on the helmet.

  “It’s just common sense.” Tweaking the helmet to see if it folds inside the mask like it’s supposed to, while she kept staring.

  “I thought tinkers go into some sort of fugue state when they tinker?” she muttered. I turned towards her and gave her a sidelong glance. She does have a point. Most tinkerers enter a state or a zone when they start tinkering seriously.

  “This isn’t rocket science. I dont need to go into serious mode just to tweak your helmet and blend into a military half-face Kevlar mask.”

  “So why Kevlar? Why not one of those fancy Neosteel you keep bragging about?” she asked. Another valid question, I might add. Was Shadow Stalker smart? Was this teenage rage ball actually smart? Sophia Hess? Really? huh…I guess I never thought of her that way. The more you know someone, the more you think you know.

  Hmm…Honestly? I just wanna tweak around with stuff available to see if they can work with my tech. So far so good.”

  She glared at me again, but it was a quieter glare, the kind that meant she didn’t have a real argument left.

  Finally, she muttered, softer than before, “I swear, Jason… if the PRT sticks me on some idiot team-building retreat, I will hunt you.”

  “Please don’t,” I said. “I’ve had enough problems this week.”

  She snorted, short and involuntary, as she almost gave out a snort and a laugh. She caught herself immediately, straightened, and scowled harder.

  “Fine. Whatever. I’ll… do it. But I’m not happy.”

  “You worry too much, leave the adult talk to me, I’ll sweeten the deal so they really can't resi...” I said

  Trainwreck was really quiet. He glanced between me and Sophia, then tilted his head slightly, one of those oddly gentle gestures that didn’t match a guy built like a scrapyard golem, except now? He looks a lot like Jacky Wells without the face. I’d probably ask him if he needs corrective surgery for some of the implants he has that are making his face contort in odd ways on his facial bone structure.

  “So…” he rumbled. “What do you do?”

  Sophia stiffened immediately. “My powers? Why?”

  Trainwreck lifted one of his new arms, fingers curling experimentally.

  “Just trying to understand the people Jason suddenly picks up like a cat,” he said simply. “Knowing what someone can do helps.”

  Sophia could only blink like a deer caught in a headlight, caught off guard by how straightforward that was. She shot a glance at me, as if silently asking whether she actually had to answer him.

  I shrugged. “He’s part of my team now. It’s up to you if you wanna answer him”

  She clicked her tongue but didn’t walk away and just muttered “fuck” Instead, she rolled one wrist in a lazy circle, like she was warming up before a hunt.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Whatever.”

  Trainwreck waited patiently. That alone seemed to irritate her.

  “I’m a Breaker,” she said flatly. “I can shift into a shadow state, intangible, silent, fast. Arrows can phase when I’m in that form, too. Bullets too.”

  Trainwreck’s eyes were still human enough, at least on one eye, which widened with interest.

  “Intangible, huh? Likee…nothing can touch you?”

  “Pretty much,” she said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Bullets, knives, fists, they pass right through me. I can run along walls. Drop from rooftops. Strike before someone knows I’m there.”

  Trainwreck absorbed that, nodding slowly. “That’s… something.” One of the other eyes was mechanically zooming in and out of Sophia, but she doesn't seem to mind it and simply ignores it entirely.

  Sophia snorted. “You mean it sucks...” again with the grumpy cat mode, with her arms held up to her chest, letting no one in.

  He turned the arm again, admiring the precision. “You hunt, then.”

  Sophia’s eyes lit up in a way that made her look far more honest than she probably intended.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I hunt.”

  Trainwreck nodded, almost approvingly. “Predatory powers suit you.”

  Sophia didn't know how to react to that., It’s like someone had just spoken a language she didn’t expect him to know. Her posture shifted subtly. Less defensive. More… intrigued. I could tell what she’s thinking.

  Could this be…my people?

  Then she caught herself and rolled her eyes. “Great. Another person who thinks they get me,” she muttered. Oh well.. at least Trainwreck tried.

  Trainwreck didn’t flinch at all, mind you. He just seems mildly confused by her reply.“I don’t get you,” he said. “But I understand abilities that are meant to pursue and disable.”

  That made her pause. Once, she didn’t have a quick comeback. Trainwreck can be quite blunt if he wants to.

  I watched her study him, this hulking, metal-limbed mass of power who somehow spoke with the blunt sincerity of a brick but the insight of someone who lived inside his instincts.

  Finally, she muttered “…You’re weird.”

  Trainwreck shrugged. “You’re fast and could go invisible and be invincible.”

  She blinked twice as she didn't expect that reaction at all and growled with anger.. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t an insult.” Traiwreck just tilted his head like he didn't understand why she was mad at him. Sophia looked genuinely uncertain about what to do with that. Great. I have two socially inept, Sophia the Grumpy Cat Jackal things she's got going on, who couldn’t take social cues unless it’ grrr..rawwr.and Trainwreck, who doesn't have any filter or train of thought when it comes to common sense sensibilities.

  Eh..

  It’s not like I’m any better.

  After testing the Mask a few times, it works. It’s almost time for me to work at Laozhang Noodle. Probably my last day too. Better make this one count.

  “Job’s done “, I toss the mask towards Sophia as she tests it out, and the mask she wore started transforming into a military Dominion ballistic helmet. Or simply the UED light infantry helmet with optional night vision and even a mini light source for search and rescue.

  “Test it out, see if your powers work on it”

  Sophia stood there staring at me for a long second, still clearly annoyed about the whole PRT-talk thing with Trainwreck asking about her powers, but she took the New armoured mask without arguing. The plates were all matte-black composite with soft-sheen edges, lighter than ceramic, tougher than steel. A visor rested in her hands, sleek, pointed in that weird thing I kept calling Dominion tech, like a predator’s silhouette within a half-masked ratio.

  She slipped it on, and the whole armour sealed around her with a quiet lock-in hiss.

  I stepped back to give her room.

  The armour adapted quickly, mapping itself to her frame. Panels shifted, hugging closer at the seams. The internal systems registered her vitals, running calibration pulses that I could faintly hear if I focused.

  She rolled her shoulders once, testing the weight of the helmet and her full gear as well. Then her hands flexed, feeling how the gauntlets responded. Her movements grew sharper, more confident. The armour was built for aggression, for speed, and she fit into it like someone slipping back into a familiar skin.

  Then she took a breath.

  Shadow peeled off her like smoke.

  I watched as the creeping darkness crawled up and over her limbs, swallowing the plates whole. Terran alloys didn’t resist it—they adapted. The armour flickered, then phased with her, turning semi-translucent as she shifted into that breaker state.

  No distortion. So that's a good thing. Parahuman powers working well with Neosteel and other process components from the UED fabricator means this stuff is tradable and works with proper power interaction.

  Perfect integration. I give it a five outta five. No drama.

  She paced in that shadowform, silent as vapour, moving around the medbay and testing her stability in the new suit. The armour blurred with her steps, tracking her will like it had been built specifically for her breaker trigger.

  Trainwreck stood off to the side, observing her performance with the same fascinated focus he applied to mechanical systems.

  Monica even projected a small holographic readout to me so I could check the data. The power consumption is nominal, resonance stable, and structural cohesion intact. Right, the armour runs on a battery. It shouldn’t need constant charging, but I need to remind her to keep it charging with a plug compatible with current Earth technology.

  Sophia re-solidified near the far wall, armour precision-locking back into its physical shape without so much as a clink. She tapped at one vambrace, watching the visor flash through its sensor modes. Everything responded exactly as designed.

  She didn’t say anything afterwards, but I could tell she was really excited from her micro expression, her leg was constantly vibrating and lashing out like a kick, like an excited kitten.

  Well, if she’s happy, I guess this is enough payment for sending her into the wards.

  Assuming that everything is above board and is done the right way. Because in Brocton Bay, the best the PRT can hope for is to maintain the status quo. Which means letting a sex-slaving crime boss, a gang of neo-Nazis and the gang of drug-pushers claim sections of the city as their territory.

  Ugh…Why am I pushing her into the PRT again?

  Hard to say it's PRT's fault when an ongoing conspiracy is against them. PRT elsewhere seems better. The problem is that Cauldron is not interfering; that's the experiment here in Brockton Bay, isn’t it?

  "What if we just dont touch the city and someone takes control of it? Would it be functional without our help?" as a way to see if Parahuman Feudalism would be viable in the case that they do defeat Scion.

  Another reason I surmise is that they could win.

  The PRT actually can solve all of this; they have the greatest amount of capes in the country. Take 1 cape from every team and let the rest keep control of the situation in their respective cities.

  All those capes you collected become a small army that you can use to wipe an entire city of gang activity, then have the Triunvirate each clean a city themselves, you would have basically 4 cities clean of villian activity per day, or being pesimistic, week, yeah, the gangs would escalate, but once you defeated them all, recruited who you could, birdcaged the more problematic ones, the amount of villians would be really small, all gangs would be weakened, and any new trigger thinking of becoming villian would know that if they do that they wpuld have to fight a small army of 60 capes+the local PRT+The Triunvirate and most would reconsider and either decide to be rogue, to be heroes, to join the PRT or be small time with petty shit like stealing wallets, wallmarts and things like that.

  The reason why the PRT doesn't do this is that the Endbringers exist.

  Super Kaijus exist here.

  Every few months is a new city that can maybe recover or is straight up lost, a lot of capes die, and the next attack, they are weaker and the EB are as strong as they were last time, so they need villains free to help, that's why there is unwritten rules, revolving door, three strikes, endbringer truce, etc.

  Because they dont know that the Endbringers are narratively designed to be invincible, so they are hoping that someone will trigger with an ability that can, damage endbringers, predict them or just help reduce the casualties and is likely that said cape may be a villain, when put in comparison, the sex slavers and the nazis are the lesser problem when compared with the end of the world.

  If I were in Brockton Bay.... I would. Move.

  Eh, too bad that isnt an option anymore.

  I cleared my throat, which felt stupid considering the only people in the room were Trainwreck, now half gleaming in chrome, and Sophia, who was busy pretending she didn’t enjoy her new armour as much as she obviously did.

  Still. I had to say it.

  “…Alright. I need to go to work.”

  Both of them turned toward me like I’d just declared I was running off to join the circus.

  Trainwreck reacted first, his slow and heavy way of reacting, the way someone does when their brain reboots and lands on what? His new servos whirred softly as he straightened. I could practically feel the disbelief radiating off him.

  Sophia just stared at me like it finally clicked. It was the long-deadpan kind of stare that said she was cycling through at least five insults but couldn’t decide which one to pick.

  I sighed.

  “Yeah. Work. Noodle shop. Actual job. I still have shifts.”

  Trainwreck’s expression shifted into something like concern and confusion, though with his new metal jaw, it came out looking more like a confused industrial machine trying its best to be supportive.

  Sophia tilted her head, visor reflecting the medbay lights. I couldn’t see her eyes, but the attitude was loud enough: “You’re kidding. You? With all of… this? You’re still gonna work at the Noodle shop, Noodle boy?”

  She lifted one armoured hand and gestured vaguely at the Command Centre, the railgun turrets outside, the holographic displays, the literal sci-fi war machine we were living in.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  “Look, I can’t exactly quit willy nilly. Everyone needs a civilian cover, right? And it's temporary. Today is probably my last day anyway.”

  Sophia’s shoulders shook. She wasn’t laughing. Not outright. But close enough that I could feel her judging me. She folded her arms, armour whirring faintly. Her stance had changed to annoyance, giving way to a kind of resigned amusement.

  I caught Sophia just as she was turning toward the exit, visor angled down like she was already planning to jump to the nearest rooftop and pretend none of this morning ever happened.

  “Hold up,” I said.

  I sighed and wanted to say, Dont you have school? Then I forgot that it's the summer holidays. I wasn't optimistic about it, so I had to ask, “You should go back home, tell your mom about it, sooner or later she’s gonna need to find out” Her foot shifted, impatience radiating off her like heat from a furnace. Even in full Dominion Trooper armour, she somehow managed to convey a teenager who is two seconds from storming off perfectly.

  “You need to head home.” Her irritation was palpable as I could feel her fidgeting uncomfortably. Sophia Hess dont do uncomfortable situations; she mostly just lashes out, but it needed to be said.

  I kept going.

  “You need to tell your parents you’re a parahuman. Today. And you need to get ready by this evening, because you’re coming with me to PRT HQ.” Sophia stiffened. I could see the tension ripple across her shoulders, her jaw tightening beneath the visor’s glow. As she thought about it. I knew she had problems at home, but I didn't know the full extent of them. I wouldn’t wanna meddle in her private affairs anyway. I can tell she hated the idea of telling her mom.

  Of course she did. She’d spent who knows how long hiding her identity, running around rooftops, treating the law like a suggestion written in pencil and now I was telling her to voluntarily walk into the building full of people who could legally cage her.

  But this was the deal. Her deal.

  “You agreed,” I reminded her quietly. “You want that probationary contract? The protection? The clean slate? Proper Freedom to act against valid villains? This is part of it.”

  The armour’s breath vents hissed softly. Outside, I heard an SCV dragging scrap metal across the yard, blissfully unaware of tense teenage melodrama happening inside the Command Centre. Sophia finally shifted her weight, the gesture sharp and annoyed, but… accepting.

  I then turned to Trainwreck. He glanced up at me, expression unreadable behind the plates of his improvised headgear. I crossed my arms and asked-

  “So,” I said, “now that you’re upgraded… what exactly do you want to do?”

  Trainwreck blinked, servo in his neck whirring softly. “Do?” he echoed.

  "Yeah. With Coil.” I said those words rather bluntly. His shoulders stiffened. A pause stretched between us, filled with the faint rumble of the Reactor in the Command Centre without Monica’s input, another uncomfortable topic, but he needed to decide anyway if we were to move forward.

  “You want to keep acting like a double agent? Report back to him? Pretend nothing’s changed?” I asked with my own presumed thoughts.

  Trainwreck looked down at his new arm slowly, like he was still trying to convince himself it belonged to him. He flexed the fingers again, metal cables sliding smoothly as synthetic muscle.

  “…He’ll know,” he muttered finally. “If I don’t show up, he’ll know something’s wrong. But I can't exactly show up looking like this.” Yeah, it's a dead giveaway to coil that the dude had some heavy-duty upgrades coming from thin air that would arouse any suspicion.

  “I see. So stay here then..”

  He winced for abit, an impressive gesture for someone with half a metal skull and a full Borg body armour. “I dunno, man. Coil’s dangerous. You know that. And if he thinks I’m compromised…”

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  “He’ll put a bullet in your head,” I finished for him. “Yeah -yeah. I know. He got this bond sthick up his ass thinking he's some sort of double oh seven last boss villain.”

  Trainwreck’s good eye darted up to me, surprised I’d said it so bluntly but probably didn't understand the reference.

  I sighed at the conflicted metal man when to me, the answer is quite simple, really.“Look. You don’t owe Coil anything. You never did. But I need to know what you want. Do you want to walk away? Work with me? Or keep feeding him info and hope he doesn’t second-guess you?”

  Trainwreck hesitated again, voice dropping. “What… would you do? If you were me?”

  “That’s easy,” I said. “I wouldn’t go back.”

  He completely froze; probably, he didn't think that option was possible.

  “But,” I continued, “that’s my answer. I have a fortress, railguns, SCVs, and enough tech to rebuild you from scratch. You? You spent a few years surviving as a chained attack dog under him. So I get it, yeah? Leaving isn’t easy.”

  Trainwreck rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture looking weirdly normal despite the clank of hydraulics.

  “If I stop reporting,” he said quietly, “Coil will probably send someone to… ‘deal with me.’ You know how he is with loose ends.”

  “Hmm.”I know all too well about his dealings, considering the time collapse and multiple timeline powers he could induce as simulations. I leaned back against the wall. He studied me for a long moment.

  A really long moment.

  “Should I deal with him permanently? Like, put a bullet through his face. I know his real Identity after all”

  “…You’re serious,” he said finally.

  “Dead serious.” It's easy once you know the Coil in his underground base and the Coil at the PRT are one in the same.

  Trainwreck let out a shaky laugh. “Shit. Usually, people run away when they hear Coil’s name.”

  “Yeah, well, Monica and I have contingencies about dealing with him the moment we have the necessary information”, I shrugged, “I’m not most people, so yeah. Eventually, he will get what’s coming to him.” Even so, I could still fumble the plan if I decided to go against him since countering the guy isnt that easy. But with Monica? It’s a lot easier than it needs to be.

  He snorted. “No kidding. You ride around in a giant construction mech and build turrets to ‘deal with stress.’”

  “Hey, don’t mock my coping mechanisms.” Building mechs is a real man's dream. Big stompy robots. What’s not to like? Even if they are just SCVs right now.

  “…I think I wanna stay,” Trainwreck said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tired, man. Tired of running errands. Tired of being scared. Tired of being used.” His metal fingers curled into a fist. “I don’t want to go back.”

  “And you…you…right, with me,” I clarified, “at the noodle shop. Just for a few hours.”

  Her expression flatlined at the mention of that“…Why,” she said slowly, “would I do that?”

  “Because you know how I look, and if you aren't going back home, well…you’re gonna be where I need you to be, somewhere I can see you.” I said, counting on my fingers, “One, you owe me for the armour. Two, Aunt Zhang is going to adopt me if I don’t bring backup because it's gonna be a really hectic rush hour. And three ... you can try to bail, but you need to go back and tell your mom, my guts telling me you ain't gonna do that either..”

  Sophia scrunched her nose. “That sounds like three excuses disguised as reasons. God fucking- Why? Why the fuck would you care?”

  “I need to care because nobody else will, I have a hunch if I let you off, you’re gonna go test your new gear on some poor ABB or E88 mooks. And if you can't find any? Even those merchants are free target practice, isnt it right?” I said.

  Shadow Stalker can't help but glare at me, but wasn't able to retort. Because that is exactly what she was gonna do. Yeah girl..I know how you think. Fat chance I’ll ever let that happen.

  Trainwreck snorted, leaning back in his new chassis while his servos whirred in little diagnostic tests. “Oh yeah, go with him,” he said. “You’ll have girls lining up just to look at him. It’ll be hilarious.”

  Sophia turned on him with a glare sharp enough to peel paint. Glares for everyone, courtesy of Sophia Hess. Trainwreck raised both hands, metallic palms pitching the surrender motion.

  “Hey, you’re the one who keeps insisting you’re a predator. Go protect the prey or whatever.”

  She made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl.

  “I’m not helping you make noodles,” she snarled with an extra grrr to the word noodle to me. “I don’t even like noodles,” she said. That’s because she never had proper lamian.

  . “Everyone likes noodles.” I said,” You probably had shitty noodles made by a white guy and not an asian. Not authentic, it's probably instant noodles too, like one of those fake ass Chinese fried noodles in the mall or something or General Tso’s chicken. Urgh…so American, so sweet, that’s not Chinese food, that's Americanized Chinese food.”

  “I don’t- what the fuck are you on about? How could General Tso’s not be Chinese?” she insisted.

  “You ignorant petulant little child, you probably think Cantonese fried chicken is Chinese too, isn’t it?”

  “Hey!” She paused. “It has the word Cantonese in it. Why wouldn’t it be Chinese?” she retorted, with less spice since she’s unsure now.

  “Lord, have mercy..Fried chicken of all things..Lei mou kaucho ah?”

  She looked away.

  “…Maybe.”

  I crossed my arms. “Look, Sophia. I just need a hand for a few hours. You show your face, act like a normal decent human being, no swearing please-”

  “You’re an asshole, you know that? Fucking hell…” she muttered.

  “-and then I shipped your ass so fast, I could send you to Jesus or to the PRT so you can flex it. I dont care. Which one do you want? Jesus or PRT?”

  She stared at me for a moment, probably deciding what to do“…Do I have to smile?”

  “Absolutely not.” Your smile is absolutely feral, I dont wanna ruin Auntie and Uncle’s Noodle shop's reputation with your snarl of doom. She exhaled like I’d asked her to run a marathon.

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “But if someone tries to flirt with me, I’m stabbing them with a chopstick.”

  “Try not to, please..” I pleaded.

  “No promises, Noodle shit, Come on, Let’s just go” Now I began to regret asking her to come with me. Was this even the right choice?

  I headed to the locker in the Command Centre and grabbed my civilian clothes, my jeans, hoodie, nothing fancy. Sophia watched me, arms folded, still looking deeply offended by the situation.

  “You changing or what?” I asked.

  She reluctantly pulled out her own clothes from the bag she kept tucked under her cot. Black hoodie, black jeans, black sneakers. No surprises there.

  “Do you own anything,” I asked, “that isn’t goth-adjacent?”

  “Black hides blood,” she replied. “And dirt..”

  “Right.”Yep, okay..not creepy at all with that logic. Once changed, she followed me toward the exit, hands stuffed in pockets, hood up, already radiating menace like it was her natural cologne. Trainwreck waved lazily from the workshop deck.

  “Have fun! Don’t kill anyone!” he beamed right into her.

  Sophia shot him a dirty look.

  He ignored it. And just like that, the two of us stepped out of the Command Centre and onto the gravel, heading toward the market district. Sophia walked half a step behind me, muttering under her breath the entire way.

  “Can’t believe I’m doing this… stupid noodles… stupid civilian cover… stupid summer…”

  The Asian market was already buzzing with the weekend crowds drifting between food stalls as usual, the smell of yummy asian smell like the usual spices induced that nostalgia effect for me, to Sophia it's probably a new experience as she walked beside me with her hood up, muttering about crowds and humidity, she's not use to this sort of setting I assume being among asian crowd where the majority is Asians and everyone else who aint Asian just get a funny look back.

  Then we rounded the corner to Jinho’s family bakery.

  And the world view changed to one of those Cringe K-pop Idol bullshit I used to watch when I retired.

  A literal semicircle of aunties stood outside the front window, some in floral blouses, some in faded cardigans, fanning themselves with shopping flyers. A cluster of teenage girls hovered behind them, clutching bubble tea and squealing like the finale of a survival idol show was happening in front of them.

  And the cause?

  Jinho as he stepped out of the bakery, flour still dusted across his hair and cheeks, sleeves rolled up, apron swinging from one hand. The crowd reacted instantly with their phones raised, aunties whispering conspiratorially, a few teens clasping their cheeks like they were about to faint.

  Hair damp and pushed back like he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial.

  Pulling fresh bread from the oven with one hand while kneading dough with the other.

  The aunties actually applauded.

  Sophia froze beside me. The moment Jinho appeared in the doorway, Sophia stiffened like she’d been jabbed with a Taser. Her eyes widened with shock and confusion, not just in surprise, but in a kind of startled disbelief, the kind that said she had absolutely not prepared her brain for this level of visual assault.

  “What,” she whispered, stupefied, “the hell?”

  One of the aunties leaned toward her friend, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear:

  “Aiyo, look at him! Such strong arms! If I were thirty years younger-” If you were any younger, you’d still go to jail. Despite that look, he’s actually just turned 18.

  “Thirty?” her friend snorted. “Sixty, more like!”

  Jinho, blissfully unaware, wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist—the kind of move that would normally be completely normal but somehow triggered a ripple of gasps like he’d just proposed to half the block.

  Sophia stood rigid, arms hovering awkwardly at her sides, like she wasn’t sure whether to cross them or shove them into her pockets or sprint away entirely. Jason could practically feel the internal screaming radiating off her.

  She glared at Jinho for a moment as she internalised something, not because she hated him, but because she probably didn’t understand him. Heck, even I dont understand him either. Didn’t understand the effortless attention he drew. Didn’t understand the softness, the warmth, the easy smiles.Didn’t understand how someone could exist in Brockton Bay without a care in the world and still smile like that.

  This is Brockton Bay after all.

  All I could chalk it up to Main Character Rizz. Bro is probably some self-insert Isekai bullshit if I ever found one. Then why the fuck am I in here? If he’s the main character, am I actually the side character? The fuck? Sophia slowly turned her head toward me. It put her off-balance. And Sophia Hess hated being off-balance.

  “Is he always like this?” she asked, voice blank.

  “No,” I said. “He’s usually worse.” Oh, much, much worse... at least his gaggling girlfriends aren't around ...yet.

  Another swoon from the crowd. A teenage girl squeaked into her phone:

  “Omigod, he smiled at me! Did you see that? That was a SMILE! ”

  Jinho hadn’t smiled. He’d just stretched his jaw and smirked a little bit, but sure. Close enough. When Jinho got closer, Sophia straightened abruptly, spine snapping into perfect alignment like she was bracing for impact. Her hands twitched at her sides, as if tempted to phase through the pavement just to escape the situation.

  A trio of aunties started chanting something that sounded suspiciously like “Bread Prince! Bread Prince!”

  Her breathing hitched ever so subtly; most would miss it, but I caught it in 4k. She clenched her jaw but looked away again. She tried and failed to act unaffected. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of all of this. She looked like a teenager caught in a cringeworthy K-drama script. Never thought I’d see the day that the Shadow Stalker has a type for pretty boys. Pretty Korean boys. Still pretty.

  Or just..pretty asian boys..oh… fuck. Does that include me?

  Sophia blinked twice, trying to process the absurdity.

  “This is… this is a superpower,” she whispered.”He’s a cape, isnt he?”

  “It is absolutely not a superpower.” I chirped back, Now I'm worried if she saw me working. He is a cap,e though. Just recently. Still can't recall what that shining bread is. Monica's results haven’t actually parsed the whole iron bread with its full analysis yet, especially when I have my Barracks on progress.

  “Jason, he’s controlling a crowd. Look at them. Look at this. That is some Master powers flexing bullshit if I ever saw one, that's some crazy charisma warfare.”

  “He’s literally just making bread, girl, you’re thinking too much.” Just like me soon, I'm just gonna make noodles. Oh fuck, who am I kidding, she saw it before, didn't she? Sophia tore her gaze away from the glass just long enough to stare at me in disbelief.

  “No one,” she said, “has ever looked that good while kneading dough.”

  “So…you do think he’s good looking?” She snarled back at me almost immediately

  “That’s not the point, dumbass! Just look at him! That ain't normal!”

  She had a point. Flour drifted in the air like theatrical snow. Somehow, there was steam rising behind him in an aesthetically pleasing backdrop swirl. Was this real life? Was some deity mocking me? Hello, goddess of bets? Are you actually watching? Is this why this earth is called Earth bet? So you could make bets on all the ridiculous bullshit swarming around here?

  Seriously..I have never thought of the name “bet”. Huh…

  Jinho noticed us. He lifted his head, eyes widening, and immediately brightened. Like a male lead catching sight of his childhood friend in episode 3 of a slow-burn romance. Why episode 3? It's when the ratings in Korea make or break a series before it gets approval for a second season or dies within ten to twelve episodes.

  “Oooh! Sunbae! I’m out! They let me out yesterday night!”

  He actually waved with both hands, smiling without a care in the worldFull wattage. Like a golden retriever in human form. Oh god..that is annoying.

  The crowd screamed, and Sophia flinched like she’d been shot.

  All I could think was:

  Please, please, PLEASE don’t let him walk out here and make this worse-

  He dropped the dough, removed his apron in one smooth motion…and headed straight for the us. The fangirls parted like the Red Sea. ahh fuck…

  “Oh no,” Sophia whispered.

  Shadow Stalker, the terror of Brockton Bay’s underbelly, was visibly malfunctioning because a boy covered in flour had smiled in her direction.

  “Oh yes,” I sighed. I thought he said he wasn’t gonna get discharged that soon? Eh..was it already one day? How time flies. “Sorry, Hubae, talk later..gotta prep for work. Come on, Sophie”

  She kept staring at Jinho as he waved back happily, full of golden retriever energy, then back at me as she whispered at me with a glare, “You actually know that guy!”

  I ignored her. I slipped behind the counter, tying on my apron as the familiar steam from the broth pots washed over me. The lunch rush wasn’t here yet, but I could feel it gathering like a tidal wave.

  Sophia stood stiffly beside me, looking wildly out of place in a noodle shop—like someone had dropped a predatory jungle cat into a humble ramen kitchen.

  Auntie Zhang spotted her first.

  “Aiya, Jason!” Auntie said, wiping her hands on her apron before bustling over. “Who is this pretty girl? New girlfriend?”Sophia choked. I didn’t. I was used to Auntie Zhang’s… precision strikes. Goddamnit..asian aunties everywhere, even different multiverses are the same aren't they?

  “No, no,” I said quickly. “This is Sophia, my junior. She’s helping out today.”

  Uncle Zhang leaned around a stack of bowls, squinting at her like she was a new ingredient he wasn’t sure whether to serve or sauté. “You sure she can handle tables? She looks like she might throw the customers. She is not even asian.”

  Sophia bristled. “I don’t throw people.”A silent beat, do you really gotta say it like that, girl? I gave her the longest yard stare I could muster. There is a time and place …damn it.“…Unless they deserve it,” she added.

  Auntie Zhang clapped her hands, delighted. “Good! Good! Sometimes customers do deserve it!”

  Eh? What? Ah, great. Auntie actually agrees. What's up with women and excessive violence here? Is this a Brocton Bay trademark? Am I missing something here?

  Sophia snapped her head so hard, caught off-guard by Auntie's very honest answer. Auntie looped an arm around her shoulders before the girl could dodge, which is quite impressive, honestly? I wondered if Auntie ever served in the military..That speed aint normal. She’s like a secret ghost agent with that reflex. Aunty brought Sophia and strung her along, guided her toward the front of the shop.

  “Come, come. I teach you how to carry bowls without spilling. You have strong arms. Good! Noodle bowl heavy!”

  “I’m not… This isn’t- Hey Jason! Help me out here!” Sophia tried.

  Uncle chuckled under his breath. “She’s spirited. Good worker material.”

  Sophia shot me a look over her shoulder. It probably said like this: I swear I’m going to kill you for this. Yeah, I dont care. But in her eyes, buried under the glare, was something lighter, uncertainty, maybe, or a reluctant interest in the chaos she’d been dragged into. She’s definitely not used to this. It's best if I keep prodding her into uncomfortable zones. Changers need to get used to all of these changes, like variables in life. Some things you can't just break and power your way through physically. The best way to deal with that shard in her head, egging her to use her powers and aggression.

  I shrugged.

  “It’s either this,” I told her, “or sitting in the corner doing nothing while Jinho gathers another swarm of fangirls.”

  Her expression tightened. “I’ll work the tables.” Yep, she totally has a crush on pretty boys.

  Auntie clapped again. “Good girl!” Uncle handed her a notepad. “If they ask for extra spicy, warn them. Last time someone cried…yama-chao hai-hui pussy arh, cheh.” Uncle then gets a laddle smack to the head from Auntie, "No Cursing Husband!" friggin magic laddle to the headshot. Shit...I need to learn that trick.

  She stared at the notepad like it were a live grenade, couldn't even understand a lick of Cantonese, let alone Mandarin, eh, that's her problem now. I stepped behind the counter, grabbed ladles and settled into my station. “Alright,” I said. “Team Laozhang is officially at full power.”

  Fuck this, I'm gonna regret what’s comin', ain't I?

  The lunch crowd hit like a tidal wave with heels clicking, people's constant chatter rising, the doors swinging nonstop as office workers and couples funnelled in for their midday fix. The scent of broth, scallions, and sizzling oil filled the air, familiar and grounding. My hands moved on instinct: just slide and stir on repeat. And pulling noodles like a pro.

  But even as I worked, even as I slipped into that effortless rhythm Auntie called noodle flow, as ridiculous as it is, the notion is somewhat true. There is zen in all things, even in making noodles, but I could feel the eyes. Those damn stares...brr.

  The tables near the front filled first when the first lunch rush hit. “Aiyah, Jason!” Auntie Zhang barked cheerfully. “Move, move! Lunch crowd already here!”

  “Yes, Auntie,” I said, ladling broth into bowls. Asian office ladies in neatly pressed blouses, girlfriends nudging their boyfriends, groups of students on break. It is the summer holiday after all.

  They watched me move behind the counter, and soon the giggling started. Soft at first, then bold, cascading from table to table as more people realised the “Noodle Boy” from the short videos was here in the flesh. Curse you, Jinho…why the hell is the crowd double and triple from yesterday?!

  “Is that him? The noodle boy from the videos?”

  “Wah, he looks better in person! Look at the eyes, so green!”

  “Stop staring, Mei!-Actually, no, keep staring .Wah..ta hao shui-ah”

  I kept working, pretending not to notice the way some of them leaned forward just to catch a better glimpse when I looked up. But I didn’t have to look far to see the real show.

  Sophia was squirming uncomfortably while she worked the tables.

  She stood against the side wall with her notepad, frozen mid-step as she watched the crowd react. At first, she tried to play it off with her arms crossed, chin lifted like she couldn’t care less, but her eyes betrayed her.

  They widened slightly when a pair of girls clutched each other and squealed after I handed off a bowl with a smile. Her eyebrow twitched when a table of college girls actually fanned themselves with their menus.

  Sophia frowned harder, as if trying to glare the attention out of the air.

  But it kept growing.

  One of the office ladies took a picture of me, not of her food, not of her boyfriend, but angled perfectly to catch me in the background. Another waved to get my attention instead of hers. Then another group leaned in, whispering and glancing between me and their phones.

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed towards me…that silent judging glare.

  She wasn’t jealous. It was something sharper, more primal. A predator irritated by another animal somehow gathers its own fan club by being prey. Seeing another Predator acting like a sheep in sheep's clothing and enjoying it too. Maybe it's a prey? She thought to herself. Then how the fuck did a prey beat me?! She probably thought…

  I need to focus on noodle making, but it is certainly more interesting watching her while I make my noodles.

  The same disbelief she’d had watching Jinho earlier now doubled as she watched me accidentally spark a crowd reaction. She couldn’t comprehend me, even as she watched me, didn’t believe it then, when she watched the video, didn't believe now, even as she tries to internalise something.

  “Sophia-ah! Don’t stand there like someone scolded you. Table three needs water! Some hot Chinese tea!”

  Her posture turned stiff, fighting between annoyance and disbelief. A girl bumped into her while trying to get a better angle of her food-with-noodle-boy-in-frame, and Sophia recoiled like she’d been grazed by an insult.

  “Miss, excuse me, ah, can the noodle boy take our order instead?”

  “We want the full experience.”

  Sophia’s eye twitched. Hard. Her expression said: How? Why? He’s just… him. What the fuck is wrong with everyone?!

  She glanced toward the counter again, studying me like she was trying to understand some hidden trick. My emerald eyes? The apron? The rhythm? The stupid noodle-boy smile Auntie made me practice? Sheesh…as if I know the answer.

  Then she jabbed a thumb toward me. “He’s busy,” she said flatly. “You get me.”

  “Awwww,” they groaned in perfect harmony.

  One of the ladies made a small gasp. “Oh! He even sounds polite. Why are all the good ones at noodle shops?”

  “My husband would never,” another muttered dramatically.

  Sophia shot them a look. “Do you people ever stop?”

  “No,” one answered proudly. “Not when the noodle boy is this cute.”

  Whatever it was, Sophia didn’t get it at all, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit. By the time the last of the office ladies shuffled out, the lunch rush had finally slowed. Plates clattered into the sink, and the aroma of broth and soy-sauce-laced noodles lingered like a warm, stubborn cloud.

  I wiped down the counter, moved bowls back into place, and leaned against it for a brief second, catching my breath.

  Sophia hovered nearby, arms crossed, still flushed from the sensory assault of giggling girls and ogling men. She didn’t say anything, just watched me in that deadpan way she always did.

  Auntie Zhang came by with a towel and slapped it over my shoulder. “Not bad, Jason! You handled that better than yesterday. Maybe you are learning the noodle flow.”

  I grinned tiredly. “Thanks, Auntie… I think I’m surviving it.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. I caught it, though. Something along the lines of unbelievable. I smirked for a bit but didn’t comment. Let her stew in her thoughts.

  Auntie Zhang clapped both hands once. “Good job today! Now, you two, take a break. Jason, you deserve one more than anyone. Tomorrow, my nephew comes home! ” She served us both a bowl of noodles. I got an extra bowl, of course.

  I watched Sophia as she hesitated, fork hovering over the steaming bowl of beef noodles I had just served her. She frowned slightly, like she was trying to psych herself up to dislike it, but curiosity or hunger won.

  The moment she took the first bite, her eyes widened. She froze, chewing slowly, like she didn’t want to believe what her taste buds were telling her.

  “...This is actually good,” she muttered, barely above a whisper. Her usual sarcasm and defensiveness were gone, replaced with genuine surprise.

  I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to hide my grinning mug. “I’m glad you approve. This right here is the authentic deal.” I said, keeping my tone casual.

  She looked up at me, still mid-chew, and gave me a deadpan glare that couldn’t quite mask the astonishment. “I mean… It’s really good. Not that I’d admit it to anyone else, of course…fuck, I think I got scammed by those Chinese fast food chains.”

  “Noted,” I said, pouring myself a glass of water. “Your secret’s safe with me. Once in a while, it's okay if you need a quick meal from those chain stores, not saying it's bad..but eh, just not up to my level.”

  She rolled her eyes but took another bite, this time a little more eagerly, and I couldn’t help but notice a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

  “Jason,” Auntie Zhang said suddenly, sidling up to me while I was eating, enjoying the last bowl.. “After today… You stay, yes? Permanent! We need you even if my nephew does come home”

  I knew she meant well. I really did. The shop was a small, messy ecosystem of warmth, laughter, and occasional teenage fangirls, and I’d come to care about it in the strangest, quietest way.

  “Auntie… I can’t,” I said, putting the chopsticks down. “I… I have… other things I need to work on.” I didn’t go into the details; no point explaining that those other things involved Terran technology, SCVs, and a slowly growing fortress in the abandoned trainyard. It’d sound insane.

  Her eyes narrowed, the cheer fading just a touch. “ Hmm. Not noodles?”

  I shook my head. “Not noodles. I love this place… and I love working here. But I need to focus on what I started. I can’t promise a permanent schedule.”

  Auntie Zhang sighed, then smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ah… I understand, Jason-ah. Very busy man, yes? You… go do your big important things. But always welcome here, you hear? Anytime.”

  I nodded, relieved that she wasn’t too upset. “Thank you, Auntie. I’ll still come by, don’t worry.”

  She patted my shoulder firmly. “Good. Now go, work hard. And finish your meal today, remember, you are always noodle boy here!”

  Sophia hovered nearby. I caught her eyes once, gave a tiny shrug, and she smirked faintly. When I receive an alert from Monica directly to my phone. I pick it up, the Command Centre has its own coms network, and I could dial right in.

  Monica's words chimed in, “Barracks construction is completed, but there was a problem. Production queues for CMC armour, marines, medics, and even a handful of Marauders blinked lazily on the display.

  And yet… it was all useless.

  “Problem detected,” Monica’s calm, synthetic voice intoned. “Barracks operational. Manufacturing CMC armour and infantry units is possible. Personnel requirement: zero. No qualified soldiers available.”

  I let out a long sigh, staring at the sky like they had personally offended me, not you, Simmy…It's just…Ugh.

  I could build the armour, fabricate weapons, churn out units all day long… but none of them would matter without someone to wear them. Soldiers. Marines. Someone who could fight, follow orders. Yeah, I have the equipment, but none of the personnel.

  I leaned back and stared at the sky again..Really?, thinking through my options. I could… Attempt to recruit from the local Brockton Bay population. Risky. Who knew how civilians would react to being conscripted into a quasi-Terran army?

  Find parahumans willing to act as proxy soldiers. Maybe Trainwreck, Sophia, even Jinho too… but there weren’t enough to staff even one full squad.

  Or..

  Rely on fully automated units. I’d considered it before, but Marines with no brains? That was a recipe for disaster if something unexpected happened. I ran a hand through my hair. Every Terran strategy in my head screamed at me: production is useless without manpower. Supply doesn’t matter if demand doesn’t exist. And yet, I couldn’t just magically conjure trained soldiers out of thin air.

  Sophia… well, she wasn’t exactly combat-ready yet. And Ji-ho… yeah, bread powers were impressive, but he wasn’t exactly military material. And I ain't ready to debut Trainwreck until I deal with his former boss sufficiently.

  It was a dilemma, plain and simple. I could build all the CMC armour and C14 gauss rifle in the world, but without people to use them, they were just shiny toys.

  I sighed again. “Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Build it, but… who’s going to use it?”

  Monica’s holographic form tilted its head slightly, almost like it was thinking along with me. “Recommendation: recruit suitable personnel. Options include parahuman allies, trained civilians, or mercenary acquisition.”

  I stared at the word mercenary for a long moment., I realized that whatever solution I picked, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Not one bit.

  “Any other alternatives?... I'm pretty sure we have something.”

  Monica kept silent for a while and then said, "I might have an alternative, Commander"

  **********************