The Civilian (part 2)*Patreon Exclusive*

Summary: Grant defeats the Big Bad Evil Guy. If only navigating his new family and his ex-villain status were so easy.

---------

Part 1 (X)

 Shireen Prologue Story 

--------Grant-----------

Grant is covered in rubble. He doesn’t know how deep he is or if the crumbling he’s hearing is a sign of his little air pocket collapsing or just normal after a building explodes. There’s a small hint of light between a slab of metal siding and a chunk of sub-level that’s pretty promising.

“I’m going to feel this in the morning,” he says. His voice sounds dead and empty to his own ears. There’s a growing wetness along the outer length of his pants and a surprisingly numb spot just above his hip. He vaguely remembers getting hit with Apocalypse’s scythe right at the beginning of the battle. Could he have gotten hurt worse than he thought? His head is ringing from the blast and he’s not going to look at his hands until his stomach quits revolting. At lleast one broken finger. There’s no way there isn’t after that sloppy mess of a punch he threw at Apocalypse before the house finally exploded.

“Why is that guy so hard to kill?” Grant asks the dark. He’d meant to kill Apocalypse. The intent still churns in his chest. He left his penthouse, left the CYMK heroes, with that determination. He didn’t come here to chase Apocalypse out of town. He came to kill.

And he’d failed.

Grant can’t tell if he’s disappointed by that or relieved.

Apocalypse will be gone for a while, that much he knows for sure. Though (theoretically) immortal, Apocalypse can be injured. Grant may have a broken finger or two, but at least he has flesh hands to be broken. Apocalypse will spend the better part of a month with iron arms before Grant’s power gradually starts to fade.

(And fuck, Apocalypse was a mean son of a bitch, but Grant never wants to hear someone scream like that again. He never wants to feel his power crawl through flesh and blood like an infection, never wants to feel blood pulse against his senses, never wants to watch veins bulge as—)

“I might throw up,” Grant notes faintly.

“Gross, don’t do that,” someone above him says. Grant blinks up at the thin sliver of light he’d seen either. It’s half-gone, the other half blocked by a very familiar face.

“Geez,” Grant says, “you’re not even wearing your mask to a crime scene? I’m concerned.”

Red pulls back enough that Grant can actually see that a lot of the rubble above him is gone. In fact, he wagers, there’s only the metal slab between him and freedom.

“Is that what this is?” Blue says in their mild voice. They’re muffled and out of sight, but Grant can imagine the quirk of their brow. “I woulda thought it was the site of a meteor. It’s a crater out here.”

Two, manicured sets of fingers wrap around the edge of the metal slab. They pull and the crack to the outside world widens. Grant inspects the nails of the hands trying to dig him out. Gold with little yellow smiley faces.

“Did you do your nails before coming to get me?” Grant asks incredulously.

Yellow laughs, strained as she tugs. “No, I did them last night before we realized our stupid guardian was out stupid fighting a supervillain.”

Grant clears his throat. This is where he’s supposed to say that he’s not their guardian, but the near-death fight has solidified more than one decision. “Well I was hardly going to let my kids do it instead.”

If he expected them to break into tears of joy, he’d be disappointed. Instead there’s an oddly long pause and Yellow’s fingers clench so hard that the metal dents under them.

“Oh, I’m an idiot,” Grant says. He forces his hand up towards the slab. He carefully doesn’t think too long on how one of them looks…not okay. He grimaces and stretches the last half inch to touch the metal. “That should be—“

The slab rips out of the rubble so quickly that Yellow staggers. The sudden light blinds Grant, but he can hear the impact of it twenty feet away.

“It got light!” Yellow defends herself. Grant blinks quickly until he can make her out standing over him. Just like Red, she’s not wearing a mask. Worse, he thinks she’s in pajamas. “I didn’t mean to throw it.”

“I turned it to aluminum,” Grant says. He tries to smooth out his grimace as he sits up. Ouch. “So it’d be lighter.”

“You could have done that this whole time?” Red asks. The boy is the tallest of the three and he doesn’t even bother squatting as he looks into the hole Grant’s found himself in. He looks disgusted. “What, were you just wallowing down there?”

Grant squawks. “I was not wallowing. Look at me! I almost died!”

“Apparently that’s not a lasting condition for you,” Yellow says waspishly. She runs a critical eye over Grant. “Since you were supposed to be almost dead last night when you got home. Your healing power is that fast? I’m jealous.”

Grant wishes that healing power worked a little faster. The light is starting to trigger a migraine. He squints up. “Is anyone going to help your poor, dear villain out of this hole?”

“I don’t know,” Yellow says, “will we?” She turns to Blue. “He’s covered in blood. It’s frankly disgusting.”

Despite her words, Grant can hear the undercurrent of concern. He grins. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t mine?”

“Maybe if we didn’t find you buried under rubble,” Blue says. They finally approach the hole. Unlike the other two, they’re wearing their mask and costume. Grant’s decided that he won’t have favorites but, if he did, it would be Blue. The little bubbles of water that hang from their belt glow as they access their power. “I’m going to create a sheet of ice under you and lift you up. Any spine damage?”

Grant’s grin dims. “No. Just broke my hand on Apocalypse’s face.”

“You punched an unarmed man?” Red gasps in fake horror. Then, seeing Grant’s face, he holds up his hands. “Too soon? I thought you’d find it funny seeing as you literally cut the man’s arms off.”

“Did not,” Grant says. He shivers as Blue’s ice solidifies under him. His certainty wavers at Red’s doubtful stare. “I…don’t remember doing that?”

“Then who do those surprisingly life-like, iron arms belong to?” Yellow asks, looking over her shoulder. Her long, golden hair swings down her back in matching braids. “Are they from a statue? The statue bleeds an awful lot if that’s the case.”

The improvised ice stretcher lifts Grant fully into the daylight. When he gets a good look at the destruction, he whistles. He’s surprised that he’s alive. The three story compound lies around them like an absurd bird’s nest. There’s soot covering every last piece of concrete and ashes are drifting down from the sky.

Twenty feet away, placed deliberately on a flat piece of debris, are two arms. The ends of them - where the shoulders should be - ooze blood on the grey concrete where it drips down and out of sight.

Grant lies back down on the ice and focuses on his breathing. “Fuck— I mean, shoot. Drat. Dang. Ohmigod.”

“What?” Blue asks. They hurry over to Grant’s side. “Are you in pain? Did something fall out of place? Shit, that’s a huge gaping hole in your torso—“

The world refuses to stop spinning. “I didn’t cut his arms off,” Grant wheezes. It’s very important the kids know that. “I’m evil enough to have turned them to stone, but that was going to wear off in a month, I swear. He cuts his arms off, fuckety— broomsticks. Broomsticks.”

“Like an animal?” Yellow asks. She doesn’t sound nearly upset enough. She leans over Grant’s side to squint at the arms. “It’s a clean cut. He must’ve used his scythe, but how? He didn’t have hands to do it.”

Grant’s been a villain for the better part of a decade. He knows what passing out feels like. “Your stones,” Grant gasps. He shakes his head, trying to fight off the dark spots forming in the corner of his vision. Honestly, the movement makes them worse. “They’re - they were on display on the top floor. They’re probably around here—“

“Chill,” Red says. He presses a surprisingly gentle hand against Grant’s forehead, forcing him to lay back down. His palm is clammy. “We can sense them. We’ll get them in a second.”

“We had to find you first,” Blue says.

Grant feels like there’s a frog in his throat. “You got me first?” He croaks.

“Duh,” Yellow says.

“We would never leave you buried—“

“—kill you ourselves—

Grant passes out.

————CYMK——-.

The three CYMK heroes look at each other.

“Typical,” Yellow says. She waves at Blue. “Blue, take him home and make sure he doesn’t die. Red and I will bring you your power stone.”

Blue gives her a thumbs up. They hop on the stretcher next to Grant. The sheet of ice rises, higher and higher until they’re swallows by a low cloud. Nobody will spot them on the way back to the penthouse.

Red frowns down at Yellow. “I’m the leader, you know.”

“Sure,” Yellow says. She turns on her heel. “That’s why you get to do the digging.”

Red sighs and follows her.

———Shireen———

Shireen wakes up to the city celebrating. She pauses, tapping the remote against her chin as she eyes the news report. There’s shouting in the street below, an impromptu parade forming. Could it be called celebrating? Definitely relief-ing. Confused relief-ing. She certainly feels confused and that’s why she isn’t joking them in their revelry.

Nobody knows who blew up Apocalypse’s headquarters, defeating the Supervillain and driving him out of town in just one night.

It’s ridiculous is what it is. Apocalypse is an S-Class of an S-class tier. He doesn’t just get beaten. The last battle between him and Hero Force ended up sinking half a city and awakening powers in over half its populace from the radiation. But nobody saw who fought him? Nobody even knew it was happening until two city blocks suddenly blew up?

The granola wrapper on the table shifts as the centralized air comes on. Shireen stills, looking at it without really seeing it. She knows of one person with powers that was willing to fight against Apocalypse. Owner person whose powers were never fully measured by Hero Force during his entire time active as a villain. A person who was supposed to be dead.

A person who she patched up on her couch a mere two nights before.

“—Hero Force personnel,” the woman on the news is saying. Katie Miranda, the anchor with the most awards in their city. She’s blinking very fast, trying to hold back tears. She’s smiling a real smile and, for the first time, she looks every bit as beautiful as all Shireen’s friends say she is. “Hero Force is asking for the return of all Hero Force personnel in order to resume normal HQ duties—“

Shireen turns off the TV. Well. Looks like she’ll be going out today after all.

———————-.

“Pssst! Ms. Agent!”

Shireen stops in the hall, her signature red-bottomed heels clicking against the tile. She’s in a deserted part of Hero Force - or, rather, one that was deserted even before half the personnel refused to return after Apocalypse took over. The hall to the paper archives. The whisper came from…where?

“Ms. Agent, over here!”

Shireen’s brown eyes track to one of three doors lining the hall. The whisper is coming from either an abandoned meeting room or the supply closet. A shadow moves behind the fogged glass of the meeting room window.

Honestly, if Shireen survives an active Supervillain takeover only to be assassinated at work, she’ll only have herself to blame. She should have taken a page out of her coworkers’ book and only agreed to come back once the main branch concluded its investigation into Apocalypse’s disappearance.

“Ms. Agent, it’s us! CYMK!”

Shireen is throwing open the door before she realizes she’s moving, nearly twisting her ankle with how fast she goes. The conference room is dusty, dimly lit and crowded by singed bankers boxes. There are three people standing in front of cracked meeting table and a third cowering in the far corner.

Shireen presses a hand to her mouth, the documents she retrieved from archives falling out of her arms. She tries to say something - anything - but the words won’t come. Her eyes rake over the searingly bright costumes.

Red.

Yellow.

Blue.

Shireen saw them die. Shireen saw them die. Her breath hitches and her eyes sting.

Yellow’s golden eyes widen behind her helmet-like mask. “No, no, no, no!”

Shireen throws herself at the young woman first, wrapping one arm around the protesting hero and then dragging Red and Blue into her embrace with the other. She’s babbling, something about seeing them die and being thankful they’re alive, something about their ostentatious colors, something about them not reporting in after HQ opened for business, but none of the words really matter. What she means is thank goodness you’re alive. Thank goodness you’re here.

“Ah, sorry we didn't call,” Blue says. They pull away from Shireen’s embrace first, shuffling from foot to foot. Are they embarrassed? “But, you know…we didn’t know if you were alive either.”

“Protocol meant I had to lay low,” Shireen says. She’d questioned the necessity of a desk agent like her having a secret identity, but she’d been grateful for it when Apocalypse gained control. Hero Force didn’t keep any employee’s address on file. “And I thought you were dead.”

Shireen lets the other two slink out of her embrace. She adjusts her plain, black mask to hide the way she needs to wipe her eyes. The CYMK heroes are well known for their checkered past and bristly personalities. As former vigilantes, they never fully felt comfortable to bond with other Heroes or Hero Force staff. The fact that they let her hug them warms her heart.

“Well we’re back now,” Red says. She doesn’t know how old they are, but they’ve always struck her as young. Especially Red who is doing his best to deepen his voice even now. “And we need a favor.”

“We know it’s a lot to ask,” Yellow says. She stares at the toes of her boots. “A-after, you know, everything you’ve already done—“

“I haven’t done anything,” Shireen protests. She knows that Yellow in particular is sensitive to touch so she doesn’t reach out to pat the other woman like she wants. Instead she makes an effort to meet Yellow’s eyes and smile. “Only my job, okay, sweetie? There are no debts between us.”

Yellow nods quickly, but Shireen can see the young woman’s disbelief even through the mask. Once upon a time, Shireen took a hit meant for Yellow. It’d been the strategic thing to do, to let the Hero with power stay uninjured until their opportunity to escape came, but she knows Yellow doesn’t see it that way.

“All the same,” Blue says in their calm voice. “We need a favor.” They slide towards the figure huddled in the back of the room. “A pretty big one.”

Shireen doesn’t know what she’s expecting. No, wait— she does. She’s expecting the CYMK heroes to be bringing her another vigilante. She’s done this for them before, smooth the way for vigilantes wanting to go legitimate. She’s more understanding than most consultants in the Alias Department.

She is not expecting King Midas.

He’s not wearing his signature, gold mask, but Shireen has seen him without it. Her eyes flick down to his shirt and back up again. She’s seen him without a lot. “You,” Shireen says.

King Midas flinches like she’s hit him. “Oh this was a mistake,” he says. He covers his head as if shielding himself from Shireen. “I’m going to get so arrested—“

“He’s not a villain anymore!” Red says. He speeds to stand between her and King Midas, seemingly forgetting the table between them. “We promise, he’s a good guy—“

“Well, not good,” Yellow says, “but who needs to be good to be a Hero? Look at Red.”

“Hey—!”

“You want to make King Midas a Hero?” Shireen asks. Part of her wants to run. She’s seen the aftermath of King Midas and she knows exactly how fragile she is in comparison to the other four occupants of the room. But she can see the granola wrapper and hear his soft thanks in her mind. She swallows down her fear. “He’s a B-Rank villain.”

“I should be a B-Rank Supervillain, don’t you think?” King Midas jokes. “Since I defeated a supervillain, I should be a supervillain.”

They all start talking at once.

“We talked about this,” Blue says, disappointed. “You aren’t a villain anymore.”

“Shut up,” Yellow hisses. “We were going to ease her into the whole defeating Apocalypse thing—“

“Even if that’s out of the bag, we should hide the arm thing for as long as possible,” Red says.

“I knew it!” Shireen cries, jabbing a finger at King Midas. “I knew you had something to do with it!”

“Wait, you believe them just like that?” King Midas asks incredulously. “These little shit— joys of wonder?”

“Nice save,” Yellow says sarcastically.

“How did you know he was alive?” Blue asks. They subtly edge in front of Red, putting another layer between her and the (ex?)villain. “You thought we were dead.”

“I found him in the garbage,” Shireen blurts out. Then she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean, I-- I--”

King Midas stares at her. His mask hides his expressions, but she can see disbelief in the set of his shoulders. “You’re the one who saved me?”

“What the fuck?” Red asks. He steps back so he can look between King Midas and Shireen. “You know Ms. Agent?”

“You gave me granola,” King Midas says somewhat dazedly.

For some reason, Shireen takes offense. “I chopped up some fruit too,” she says.

“Do you just hand out lifesaving help every time you go out?” Yellow asks Shireen, exasperated. “First Red, then Blue, now Midas-- are you sure you don’t have a superpower?”

“He was in the trash,” Shireen says. She throws up her hands. “What, I was supposed to do,  just leave him in the trash?”

“Yes!” Yellow says. “My god, Ms. Agent he could have been anyone! Most people would have left him there to, I assume, bleed out!”

“Hey,” King Midas says.

“I locked myself in my bedroom,” Shireen says. “For safety.”

“You took him to your house?!”

“Which saved my life,” King Midas says. He puts his hands on his hips and glares at Yellow. “You were happy I was alive less than 12 hours ago.”

“I can be happy and concerned for my friend at the same time,” Yellow says. Shireen gets the impression she’s sticking her tongue out at King Midas. “I’m a teenager. We’re complex.”

Shireen goes still. “You’re a what?”

“Oh good,” King Midas says. “You didn’t know. They told me you’re the agent that convinced them to go from being vigilantes to being heroes. Honestly, I was worried what I’d do if you knew they were literal children.”

Shireen sways on the spot. “Children?” She staggers over to a chair, knocks the file box off it, and collapses. “Oh my god, I signed up children to Hero Force.” She puts her forehead on her knees and tries to calm down. They almost died during the takeover. She thought they died and she put them in that situation.

“Give her a minute,” King Midas says in the tone of someone who’s been through the same thing. “It’ll take a while to process.”

-----------------Grant----------

The woman - the agent - recovers faster than Grant gave her credit for. He leans back against the singed wall of the meeting room as she lays into the three heroes.

“--gave me your oath that you filled Hero Force membership criteria--”

She’s not at all what he expected. He remembers her trembling voice through the door, clearly afraid of him. He expected somebody that sounded like that voice. Hunched shoulders, furtive glances as if afraid of being the center of attention, sneakers that would be good for running.

The woman - Ms. Agent - is none of those things. She appears to loom over the CYMK heroes as she dresses them down, her face behind her black mask impressively stoic. She’s not shouting at them, but her tone has them all standing at attention.

“--hurt in ways you can not consent to as children. I appreciate the bravery that all three of you have shown and I am not taking away from all the good you have done, but this isn’t the environment for--”

Grant eyes the woman’s heels. He recognizes the brand and wonders how good Hero Force pays for her to afford them. They can’t be regulation, can they? Can she even run in those? He finds himself frowning at her heels. It couldn’t be safe wearing those.

“--effective immediately, I am placing you on an indefinite leave of absence--”

“What?”

` “No! That’s the opposite of what we want!”

“You don’t have the authority to do that.”

Grant knows before Ms. Agent even turns her head to Blue that they’ve said the wrong thing.

“Oh?” Ms. Agent asks. She’s smiling. “You’d be right if this was before a Supervillain scared away over half my colleagues. I’m currently the Director of the Alias Department and a senior department head of Hero Force. I have every authority currently.”

The CYMK heroes protest all at once.

“That’s not fair--”

“We just got back! We have to help the city--”

“Ms. Agent, we came to ask for a favor--”

“Or,” Ms. Agent interrupts, putting up one hand to silence them, “I could tell Foresight, the actual Leader of Hero Force, that I let three children sign up to be heroes. Then all three of you could be fired permanently and I could go to prison. Would that be better?”

The three teens don’t have anything to say to that. They stare at the ground, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.

Grant clears his throat. “Of course, I could get you out of prison if that happened,” he says. He pretends to not notice the kids brightening at his words. “I do owe you a favor.”

“Nobody owes me any favors,” Ms. Agent says. Rather than being thankful for his words or even asking how he’d get her out of prison, she seems irritated. She stands up from her chair and dusts off her pencil skirt. “You four are birds of a feather.” She eyes them, lips pressed thin. “I have one offer and one offer only. If you turn it down, that’s it, okay? I turn myself into Foresight for not doing my due diligence as a member of the Alias Department, you three wind up as civilians permanently, and King Midas gets…I don’t know, arrested.”

“I knew it,” Grant mutters.

“If our options are either your offer or…that,” Blue says, “it’s not an offer, it’s an order.”

Yellow shoves them. “Shut up,” she says. She presses her hands together in front of her, the very picture of remorse. “We’re very sorry for lying to you, Ms. Agent. Please tell us our options. We’ll listen.”

Ms. Agent pinches the bridge of her nose. “You three, I’ve told you many times, I am not an agent. I am a consultant. Or, now, the Director of the Alias Department. People here call me Sarah.”

“But that’s not your real name,” Red protests. “And I like calling you Ms. Agent. It’s like a spy movie.”

“I am not telling you my real name,” Ms. Agent says flatly. She chews the inside of her cheek. “Not yet anyway.”

Blue perks up. “Yet?”

“Your option,” Ms. Agent says. Grant wonders if she left the plural off on purpose. She says, “Your option is as follows. I will help King Midas become a Hero since you three have vouched for him. I won’t promise, but I’ll try. I won’t tell Hero Force that you’re minors. If--” she holds up one finger “--I meet your guardians and get their blessing to put you on hiatus until you become adults.”

The teenagers contemplate her words for a long moment.

“I’m already 18,” Red says after a long moment.

“Then you’ll be on a disciplinary leave for one year as punishment for lying to a Hero Force Director,” Ms. Agent says smoothly.

“But to meet our guardian, you’ll need to know who we really are,” Blue says.

Ms. Agent nods. “Correct.” If she notices Blue’s slip saying guardian rather than parents, she doesn’t show it. “I understand it’s a difficult thing to ask. All I can give you is my word that I won’t betray your trust--”

All three start to argue against it.

“--and my real identity as insurance in case I ever do betray you.”

The teens gape at her.

Grant is really starting to like this lady. She’s got an answer for everything.

“Alright, kids,” Grant says. He pushes off the wall and saunters up to the meeting table. By the way Ms. Agent stiffens, she’s still not comfortable with him. But she doesn’t run. Grant takes that as progress. He’ll be able to pay her back in no time. “I don’t think the nice agent is asking a lot. It seems like a fair deal.”

“But Gr--King Midas,” Red says. His eyes dart to the agent and then back to Grant. “That means - it would put our guardian in harm’s way too.”

Grant’s heart stings as the other two nod. Oh. They’re worried about him. It’s clear that they trust this woman, but they don’t want to force him to trust her too. He’s never been prioritized like that before in his life. He reaches out to snag Red, drawing the kid under his arm so he can rub his knuckles against the top of his helmet. “Don’t worry about that. That’s not for kids to worry about.”

“I don’t think you’ve worried about anything in your entire life,” Yellow huffs. But she slips around the table to lean against Grant’s side for a moment, careful of his wound. She looks back at Ms. Agent. “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Ms. Agent watches Blue shift to Grant’s other side. She looks like she has had a very bad thought. “...as the Director of the Alias Department it is my job to keep secrets,” she says at last. She chooses her words carefully. “I am…trusted to use my own discretion on what secrets Hero Force is entitled to.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Blue says. They pull their helmet off. Their short hair spikes up in all different directions and their blue eyes stay calmly on Ms. Agent. “My real name is Bek Dyer.”

Yellow pulls off her helmet next and grins, showing her braces. “Callie Rochester.”

“Callum Garcia,” Red says. He keeps his helmet on until Bek nudges him. He growls as he pulls it off. There are tear tracks on his face. “It’s hot under there, okay? I wasn’t crying.”

Grant gives him a little squeeze. He thought he saw the kid’s shoulders heave when Ms. Agent rushed to hug them.

Ms. Agent’s eyes flash. “Nice to meet you all.” She pulls off her thin, black mask. Not much changes without it. It’s the thinnest scrap of fabric after all. Yet, when she smiles, Grant feels his breathing stutter. She says, “I’m Shireen Karim. I don’t need to know King Midas’ identity at this point, but I will need to meet your guardian--”

“But you do need to know his identity,” Blue - Bek - says innocently. They flutter their short eyelashes. “Right, Dad?”

“No,” Shireen says.

Grant frowns, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ooh, don’t know if I like that.”

“Father,” Yellow - Callie, damnit - says.

“Papa,” Callum says.

“You’re joking,” Shireen says. “How is your guardian a villain? You’re heroes!”

“Former villain,” Grant says. He shrugs the kids off of him and walks around the table towards Shireen with an extended hand. He turns up the charm. “Grant Aurum, Aurum Industries. Pleasure to meet you, Director.”

Shireen returns his handshake weakly. “Oh my god. How.”

Callie pulls out a folded packet of paper from her utility papers. “Adoption papers. Freshly processed this morning. It’s a copy so you can have it.”

Shireen takes them. She scans each page carefully before looking Grant directly in the eye. “These are legit.”

“As I said, former villain. I wouldn’t forge adoption documents.”

“It says you initiated this process a week ago.”

“More or less.”

“How are they already finalized?”

Grant blinks at her. “I’m Grant Aurum,” he says again. “Of Aurum Industries.” Nothing. “A.I.?” When no flash of recognition crosses her face, he sighs. “Money talks.”

“I’m Grant Aurum,” Callie mocks. She laughs. “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up,” Grant mutters. His ears are warm. He isn’t used to not being recognized.

Shireen side eyes him, but he sees the moment she decides to ignore whatever she’s missed. She tucks the adoption papers under her arm and sizes him up. “Well, Mr. Aurum. Do your wards have your blessing to be on leave with Hero Force?”

“Yes,” Grant says.

“And do you want to become a Hero?”

“Yes,” he says. He’s surprised by how much he means it. There’s something about fighting true evil that has changed something in him. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore. His hands clench and his spine straightens. “Yes,” he says again. “I do.”

Shireen nods, matter of fact. “Then be at my office Monday at 9 am.” She turns on her heel, clicking to the door. “All four of you. Bring coffee.”

“Um, I have school--”

“Coffee is bad for you--”

“Ugh, so early--”

Grant covers Callie and Callum’s mouths with his hands and he glares at Bek until they stop talking. He grins winningly at Shireen. “We’ll be there, ma’am. Thank you for this opportunity.”

Shireen’s mouth twitches like she wants to laugh. She nods once, slips her mask back on and disappears out the door.

Grant sighs. Then yelps as both Callie and Callum bite him simultaneously. “Ouch! The nice lady is helping us, we shouldn’t antagonize her!”

Bek snorts. “Come on. Let’s go home before anyone sees us here. Shireen will break the news of our survival, I’m sure.”

Callie is already heading to the door. “I want burritos!”

“First-one-to-the-door-decides-dinner-Yes!” Callum crows, speeding ahead of Callie. “Pizza!”

“Burritos!”

Bek is tapping on their phone as they follow their new siblings out. “I’m ordering burgers to be delivered,” they call over their shoulder to Grant. “You want cheese, right?”

“Yeah,” Grant says. His voice squeaks. He clears his throat and nods. “Yeah.”

He follows his kids out of Hero Force and doesn’t point out that they still have leftovers in the fridge.