Contrary to those of her previous district, the hallways in Central's main DHD building were rather inviting. Not so drab and minimalist as A23G's had been. Still largely function over form, but there was a tasteful baseline the overall interior design never seemed to fall below.

Inviting big plants by the walls that seemed like palm trees but weren't, neatly arranged seating, and a window at the end of the corridor. Almost enough to make her forget about the fact that, contrary to this building, Apexia's heroes were never truly safe. One example of that resided in the office she was about to enter. Her greaves came to a stop in presentable orientation, putting her in some approximation of soldier parade rest. Formal, but not to the point of being seen as completely inflexible.

With her fist raised to knock on the door, she faltered for a moment. Was it really fine to be bothering him so soon? Didn't he need rest?

The decision was made for her. The door opened, and a girl walked out. She stepped back out of reflex then registered that it was actually one of her own teammates. Her team captain, in fact.

Clad in alternating shards of brown and gray over the girl's torso, the limbs of her costume glowed red, all the way from underneath her body armor to a pair of fingerless gloves. Her pants were fashioned in a lighter gradient, flowing from brownish red to bluish gray around her waist. A pair of copper eyes scrutinized her from behind a stylized red-and-blue mosaic face mask that covered everything from hairline to chin. As usual, the hood of her chest-length cloak she wore was up, conveying that magician vibe the junior heroine was going for yet never verbally admitted to.

"Lahar," she greeted. The full hero name was Lahar Sioc, but her colleague insisted they only say the first part for the sake of efficiency outside interviews and other public functions. Personally, Matilda thought it was a good enough name to warrant saying it in full, even if she understood the rationale behind that decision.

"Damsel," came the response with a curt nod. "Good that you took the initiative to visit. Feel free to pick his brain while he's here; it's not often that someone in his position is confined to HQ for long periods of time."

And wasn't that the truth. Indeed, the man she was about to speak with was rarely one to turn down out-of-district requests for aid, which resulted in him being the go-to for Unbound support when it was needed in other parts of Apexia outside of emergencies.

Lahar took confident steps past her and disappeared into the hallway, leaving without any more excuses to delay, seeing as the door was ajar now. Still, she decided to knock and announce her presence.

"Please, come in."

She entered.

The office was unlit save for the dusky sunlight filtering through an upper-level skylight. A single floor lamp stood idle in the corner, like it had been turned off hours ago and simply never needed again. Despite that, the room didn't feel dim. Omnibus sat in a high-backed chair. Not behind the desk, but beside it, angled toward the door, waiting as though he'd known the precise moment she'd hesitate.

His costume was understated, a layered black-on-silver arrangement akin to a military uniform devoid of insignia, save for a faint platinum crest over his shoulder—an old DHD mark, from a time before their current generation. Although he normally did wear a "mask" of sorts, it was a token gesture, a mere symbolic application of his power that she knew he didn't truly care for. As such, his face was bare right now. His posture was relaxed. One leg crossed over the other, one arm resting along the side of the chair. His presence carried no real force, and instead held a sense of inevitability she couldn't quite grasp.

"Damsel," he stated. "You're considerate to come, thank you."

She halted instinctively, then caught herself and relaxed. "Sir. I didn't want to intrude, I just thought—"

"I hoped you would," he said in a patient tone. "It speaks well of you."

He gestured toward one of the two chairs across from him. Soft, cloth-backed, low to the floor. Conversation seats. Not interrogation.

Matilda sat.

Up close, the signs of injury were more visible. His breaths were a bit labored, she could see bandages on one of his hands, and his signature book sat open in his lap, holding an earthen cup with glowing orange water that matched her senior's eye color.

This man, Noor's second-in-command, had not accepted healing from Radi or any of the other specialists, relying entirely on his own power to get back into shape. She couldn't say she understood why, but she also wasn't about to question the judgment of the oldest active hero on the continent. Knowing what he had faced, Matilda was surprised there wasn't more.

After all, it wasn't every day that someone walked away from a fight with Omega in one piece.

The controversy around the death of one Elias Voss was running wild in the media, but the DHD's accounts tended to neglect to mention how it had been Omnibus who ran in to stop the situation from getting worse, bravely fighting one of the most dangerous villains in the world until backup arrived. Ostensibly, it was to keep a hero's injuries out of the spotlight. She wasn't sure how much of that narrative she believed.

"It's actually fortunate that I have you here with me today, Damsel. There were no plans in my schedule to call you here, but it gladdens me to receive the opportunity to have an individual discussion," Omnibus went on, smiling through his trimmed beard. Like his slightly tousled hair, it was a dark burgundy, albeit graying at the edges. It gave his face a wizened appearance. If she had to guess, she would say he unbound his power when he was around fifty years of age. A long time ago, in other words.

"And why would that be, sir?" she replied. She was curious and nervous at the same time. Why would Omnibus of all people want to waste his time on her specifically, of all people?

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"Because I would like to take you under my wing," he said, voice light. As if that wasn't the offer of a lifetime. "Not permanently, mind. Your next school year commences two months from now, yes? That should give us enough time for me to show you how it is done. In my view, Voyager had the right of it, choosing young Warp as an apprentice."

"Are…" She caught herself on the armrests, realizing she had begun to stand before sitting back down. "Is this a serious offer?"

He observed her with that same calm expression, one that said he had all the answers. "Technically, I have the authority to make it an order, but I am in fact leaving the final say to you."

She couldn't contain her shock. "What makes me so special? What about Lahar? She deserves it more. Or the new transfer coming next week?"

Omnibus only shook his head. "Must I convince you of your own potential? Surely, you have seen it yourself."

Part of her had, and another part thought everyone else was exaggerating and it would lead to a massive disappointment where she embarrassed herself to the point where the fragile little girl hiding in her armor was plain for all to see. "...What if you sustain injuries because of a mistake I make on the field? What if I don't make enough improvements?" What if I'm nothing but a liability, she didn't say.

Her new mentor wasn't swayed, putting a hand on her shoulder in a motion so smooth it reminded Matilda somewhat of her previous team leader.

"Some things are worth bleeding for."

*******

"You look shocked," Lyra commented, eyes trailing the people passing them by in the crowd.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," Xena admitted. "I thought I had another solo mall run ahead of me."

To be completely honest with herself, Lyra couldn't articulate the exact reason why she had agreed to go to a shopping mall in the middle of Central, of all things. Her gang procured supplies whenever she ordered them to, so there was no real point in coming to places like this herself. But something inside her spurred her on, made her accompany her subordinate to procure new things they might need for the base, or whatever the excuse was.

She was aware that it was obviously a pretense to go "hang out." The fact was, she didn't care. Going around out of costume felt kind of like sleepwalking, at this point. It just wasn't real. All she could recall was shadows of a better time.

Ironically enough, she also remembered how, during those times, she'd been worried over perceived problems that ultimately meant nothing. This person was looking at her in a funny way, that person probably thought she was a total freak. So stupid and trivial.

She should've appreciated the things she had more. The people she had. Now, the only thing left was that soul-deep ache. It never left. It got worse, if anything.

"Where'd you get those clothes?" she heard Xena ask as the brown-haired girl looked her up and down.

Lyra looked down at herself, the too-small sleeveless shirt exposing her abs, blue shorts tight on her toned legs. An oddity in her body, she had come to learn. She was certainly beyond baseline human now, for one reason or another. While she couldn't say she fully understood it, there was no denying that it would be helpful when the time came.

You got stronger. I'm making sure of that.

"I borrowed them," she answered simply. One of their unpowered henchwomen had given her the clothing when she asked for spares. Weird that the subordinate in question had offered up her entire wardrobe with a frantic look on her face, but everybody had their quirks.

These ones didn't quite fit, though that wasn't a real issue. It was more that she had kind of given up on outdoor clothing, due to her lack of a need for them.

"Alright then, Jailbait," Xena laughed, sneaking another glance. Then she thought for a moment, eventually asking, "So when is your eighteenth birthday, anyway?"

"August."

The supervillain nodded as they entered a drug store, walking to the body cream aisle. "When I was your age," she began, despite being merely two years older, "I'd already run away from home. Trash parents, drug habit, you know. The standard pipeline for people like me. Care to tell me your story?"

"No," Lyra said, watching Xena's face fall. "But okay." She sighed. "It's not too complicated. I wanted to be a singer when I was young, and by the time I got the chance, I had powers."

Curiously, that almost caused Xena to drop a jar of lotion. "Are you insane?" she hissed, frantically checking out the other customers around the store. "What if one of those bitches heard that? They could call the feds."

"And?" Lyra was unconcerned. So what if people heard her. Her civilian identity that she never used would be compromised, and she'd taken the necessary precautions to keep things from spiraling further than herself already. Maybe the government even had a record of her face.

Who cared if she hadn't put a sound barrier up? If Cerese wanted to go another round with her, that was fine. Lyra would be sure to chop off some limbs in the rematch. Not like any of it mattered.

"Out of her fucking mind," Xena muttered under her breath, probably not consciously registering that the low volume was pointless against Lyra's power. In a normal voice, she said, "Fuck it. What happened next?"

"I messed up, ran away. I had nowhere to go, so I was wandering around for a while. Some guy with a knife tried to kill me, I got saved by…" she trailed off.

Near the entrance, she saw a couple come in, the woman pushing a stroller. She was indistinct, plain. The man, on the other hand, had brown hair, blue eyes, and a sharp gaze. His wife said something, causing the man to raise an eyebrow in that telltale way. Too old to be him. This was just a random stranger. The similarities were superficial. And somehow they were still enough to remind her.

The baby cried, and Lyra's gaze fell on it. That empty feeling in her stomach increased, feeding on her pain. She clenched and unclenched her fists. In her chest, her heart went wild, like a drum beat percussioning the song of destruction. Did they really deserve this, when she was suffering?

Let them hear you.

A hand found her shoulder. She looked down at Xena.

"Bos- uh, Lyra?"

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should get out of here," her subordinate suggested, sidestepping a falling bottle.

She looked around, noticing the panicked expressions of the people in the store with them, and the low ambient hum that sent quakes rippling through the entire space. Was she doing that? Huh, she was. She hadn't even noticed.

Do you think they matter?

Worldsong's question didn't receive an answer. Because she didn't have an answer.

"Yeah, maybe we should," she said out loud, marching away.

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