Several seconds passed.
The crowd continued thinning around Don in slow waves.
So people moved toward the registration tables with reluctant purpose while others headed for the exits without looking back.
A few remained rooted in place like statues, still trapped sowhere between fear and obligation.
Don didn’t move with either group.
To anyone nearby, he probably looked undecided.
In reality, his thoughts were already moving.
Pyro glanced sideways at him.
A tired smile pulled faintly at the older hero’s mouth.
"No need to hurry, huh?" he said. Then after a mont, "You think they’ll let us choose what type of operation we get?"
Don looked at him briefly.
Very slight surprise flickered behind his eyes before disappearing again.
Pyro had already assud he was staying.
Interesting.
Apparently sowhere along the way, the older hero had placed Don into that category. Soone who stepped forward automatically when things went bad.
Don didn’t particularly care whether Pyro respected him or not. If he walked away right now, life would continue either way.
That wasn’t the part bothering him.
The real calculation sat elsewhere.
CV.
Positioning.
Experience.
He already had recruitnt lined up for himself. Don knew that much. Doors would open eventually regardless of tonight.
But this? This was different. Real operations. Real soldiers. Real field conditions without simulations, training rooms, or academy oversight.
A chance to observe.
A chance to ask questions.
A chance to learn before the official process even began.
And maybe more important than that—
A chance to see what he could actually do without assistance.
His superior outfit was gone. The one Charles had provided earlier had already saved him from several injuries tonight alone.
His comms were missing too, aning no contact with Winter. No access to tactical information. No support from the Monclaire network.
And worst of all—
No contacts.
No augnted overlays feeding him structural information or environntal analysis in real ti.
Keen Eye compensated for part of it, but only part.
Not the tactical breakdowns.
Not the support systems.
Not the layered data processing he’d quietly gotten used to relying on.
ntal fatigue from the rooftop still pressed at the edges of his thoughts.
His body had recovered enough to move, but soreness still lingered beneath the surface despite the regeneration.
Going back into Santos City right now with less than before wasn’t smart.
Then another voice surfaced in his mory.
RedStar.
Relentless as always.
’Don’t look at the situation as sothing you can’t handle.’
Don exhaled slowly through his nose.
Right.
He looked around the hangar again. Civilians were stepping forward. Younger n. Older won. People with barely any training at all volunteering themselves anyway.
Most of them had fewer advantages than he did.
Far fewer.
So what exactly was his excuse?
Better CV? No.
His eyes shifted toward the registration area.
’Testing how good I actually am without the extra assistance.’
The entire thought process finished within seconds.
Then Don nodded once toward Pyro.
Barely noticeable.
But enough.
"Let’s go there in a bit," he said casually, gesturing vaguely toward the registration tables. "Trying to see if soone I know is here."
Pyro shrugged easily. "Fair enough."
Don’s reasoning had little to do with actually finding soone.
Image mattered.
Walking directly toward registration made him look eager. Committed. Like he’d already bought into the speech.
Waiting first made him look deliberate instead.
A small distinction.
Still useful.
He began scanning the remaining crowd.
No familiar faces imdiately stood out. Civilians moved between rows of equipnt while soldiers redirected traffic toward exits and registration lines. Then—
There.
Near one of the side exits.
Ash stood with her arms crossed tightly over herself, black leather jacket still streaked with dried blood along one sleeve. Her cropped top and dark pants looked mostly intact.
A deep frown sat on her face while she scanned the hangar with obvious irritation.
Or worry.
Her eyes moved again—
Then landed on Don.
The shift happened instantly.
The irritation stayed, but sothing underneath it loosened.
Relief maybe.
She started walking toward him imdiately, weaving through the remaining crowd with quick steps.
"Boss!"
She stopped in front of him, breathing slightly harder than normal.
"Shit, I thought they took you away."
Don raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"I don’t know." Ash gestured vaguely with one hand. "Questioning. Black site shit. You looked okay when we landed and then they just dragged you off sowhere."
She shook her head.
"You’re here. That’s what matters."
Pyro watched the exchange for a second before speaking.
"Friend of yours?"
"This is Ash," Don said simply. "Ash, this is Pyro. We work together."
No elaboration beyond that.
Ash blinked once before looking at Pyro more carefully.
Recognition clicked almost imdiately.
"Wait." She pointed slightly. "Pyro? Like—SHQ Pyro? The fire guy?"
Pyro gave a tired nod.
"The fire guy, yeah."
Ash let out a quiet breath through her nose before holding out her hand. Pyro shook it firmly.
A brief mont of assessnt passed between them.
Superhumans tended to do that automatically.
Pyro tilted his head afterward.
"What’s your ability?"
Ash straightened slightly. "Pyromancy."
Pyro’s eyebrows rose.
"No shit? Generate or manipulate?"
"Generate mostly." Ash hesitated. "So manipulation too. Still learning."
That imdiately woke sothing up in Pyro despite the exhaustion weighing on him earlier.
"You doing SHU certification yet? Heat output thresholds? Controlled shaping?"
Ash visibly stiffened.
"A little."
"You train under anybody?"
"Not really."
"What kind of fla consistency you get under stress?"
Ash scratched lightly at the back of her neck.
"Look, it’s—whatever. Work in progress."
She redirected herself toward Don before Pyro could keep going.
"You staying?"
Don t her gaze for a mont.
"Yes."
Ash’s jaw tightened briefly.
Then she nodded once.
"Then I’m gonna stay too."
Don almost told her not to.
This wasn’t so street-level incident anymore. These were military operations inside an active containnt zone. She’d barely survived the night as it was.
But the words never ca out.
Not his decision to make.
If she wanted to risk her life, that was her business.
Still—
He found himself mildly curious why she’d decided so quickly.
He didn’t ask.
The three of them eventually started toward the registration tables together, Don walking between Ash and Pyro while the crowd continued thinning around them. Nobody spoke during the walk.
Only the people staying behind remained now.
The registration area sat near the eastern side of the hangar beneath rows of temporary floodlamps and portable equipnt stations.
Soldiers worked behind folding tables cluttered with tablets, scanners, paper forms, and identification readers while a small line of civilians waited nearby.
Maybe twenty people total.
The process moved quickly but thoroughly.
Each civilian stepped forward, provided identification if available, answered several questions, and filled out digital or printed forms depending on which equipnt station they reached.
Soldiers cross-checked nas against databases while handheld scanners occasionally flashed green or yellow beside them.
Don watched people react differently once they reached the liability section.
So skimd it.
So stared longer.
A few hesitated.
The waiver sat at the bottom in bold capital letters:
THE UPSDF ASSUS NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR INJURY, DISABILITY, OR DEATH INCURRED DURING OPERATIONAL ASSIGNNT.
Impossible to miss.
Pyro went first between the three of them.
He filled everything out quickly with the ease of soone used to operational paperwork.
One soldier glanced down at whatever he’d written under prior experience before visibly straightening a little afterward.
Recognition.
Respect.
Pyro barely reacted to it.
Ash stepped up next.
Much slower.
She frowned at several sections while filling things out, occasionally asking clarifying questions from the soldier assisting her.
Her ability description took longer than expected. When she reached the waiver section, she stopped entirely.
Read it once.
Then again.
"...fuckin’ great."
She signed anyway.
Then Don stepped forward.
The tablet slid across the table toward him.
Na.
Age.
Status.
He filled everything out thodically.
Superhuman status: yes.
Ability description:
Enhanced physical attributes. Accelerated regeneration. Sensory augntation.
Simple. Honest. Vague enough.
No military experience.
No ergency response background.
No dical conditions.
Ash leaned slightly beside him while he filled things out, eyes flicking toward his ability description.
Later, when she adjusted part of her own form, Don noticed she’d copied his phrasing structure almost exactly.
He signed the waiver without rereading it.
No point.
He already understood the risk.
The female soldier processing his registration scanned through the information on her tablet before cross-referencing sothing else.
Then she nodded.
"Step aside and wait for assignnt processing. Should only take a few minutes."
Don moved toward the nearby wall while Pyro and Ash joined him shortly afterward.
They stood there quietly while more nas cycled through registration behind them.
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