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'I never asked for powers. Never wanted them in the first place. But powers don't ask, they just happen. Then, well, what you do with them, that's all up to you. Plenty of options, most of them bad, all with messy ends. After all, there's no such thing as a retired cape.'
March 1st, 2011
Protectorate Department N Headquarters
Toronto, ON, Canada
If there was ever a time that Narwhal regretted her line of work, it was now. Half-seven in the morning, and here she was in her office, finishing off the final mound of paperwork.
Her office was a spartan thing; walls plain but for a pair of flags, the first Canada's, the second the Guild's, a white G on a pale blue background. A desk, the monitor atop it lit up, a small raised tinkertech hologram projector off to one side, and of course, the last few sheets of paperwork. Situation reports, threat evaluations, threat re-evaluations, both for Department N and the Guild as a whole. The staff did their best to condense the information, but she'd had a backlog of six days to catch up on.
Damn Simurgh Protocols.
"Awake so early, Narwhal?"
She hadn't even noticed the projector turn on as Dragon's slightly distorted but distinctly Newfoundlander voice spoke. She glanced at the hologram of Dragon's face, nodding, before setting back to work.
"I tried to sleep, but the jet lag was too much, so I figured I might as well be productive." She shrugged. "How're you doing?"
"Better than you. The prediction system is coming along quite nicely, I think. No notable developments in the Birdcage, the trans-Continental S-class threats are behaving as usual, and Department NW is handling itself just fine."
"I don't know where you get the time to do all of it." Narwhal said, scribbling down another recommendation on how to address the issue of the Suez Canal and safeguards against African warlords.
"Properly regulated sleep schedules." Dragon's avatar smiled. "Not quite as rigorous as Armsmaster's, but I keep to them religiously."
"Ah. Might have to ask you to make one for me. Seems like I spend half my time in this office checking reports and intel analysis."
"Such is the life of our glorious leader."
"Ha. Hmm." She stared down intently at the report.
"Anything interesting?" Dragon asked.
"Arrows says we've got two of Heartbreaker's lot in town, thinks they're trying to hunt down some of his other missing children."
"Which two?"
"Watchdog and Panic, he thinks they're tracking Cherish, or less likely, Hijack, given the former is believed to have passed through Toronto a week or two ago while we've heard nothing about the latter for at least a year, if not longer." While she was in Australia, funnily enough. Convenient for Cherish. "Saint give you any trouble recently?"
"Not for a while. I think he's been strapped for cash recently."
"Good to know, good to know."
She settled back into the steady rhythm of paperwork, talking to Dragon in the background. Ah, Toronto. Home.
March 1st, 2011
Queen Elizabeth Highway
ON, Canada
It was always a dicey thing trying to cross the US-Canadian border. Either you went north, to the border in Vermont, New Hampshire or Maine and tried to cross that illegally, which was easy enough given how long it was and how undermanned the border service on both sides of the border was or you bribed your way across the Niagara River.
She wasn't too fond of either option, so they'd crossed the Niagra River illegally at 3 AM in the morning over the old Michigan Central Railway Bridge. Yes, it had some walls topped with barbed wire, but it wasn't like walls had ever stopped her. Border security was no match for powers.
Then it was just a matter of finding a car big enough to fit them all in with blacked-out windows, renting it and they were on their way to Toronto.
Gregor and Newter sat in the seats in the boot, snoozing away, while Elle and Emily were in the middle, the former sleeping happily with her head on the latter's lap, who was humming along quietly to whatever music was playing in her headphones.
She didn't like dragging them on long road trips, but it wasn't every day you heard of a potential unmutated Case 53 so close to home, and if they found nothing, well, there was always that one over in Las Vegas.