Chapter Text
Dennis is tired. Patrols in the ruins of Brockton Bay are exhausting, and he hasn't had time to process his grief. The Ward team is half the size it used to be, and the absence of his friends weighs on him. Part of him isn’t looking forward to having the time to actually think about that, once reinforcements arrive; replacements, if he wants to be realistic. Home is worse, given how stressful his dad's situation has become. Dennis needs to talk to Panacea about it, but she’s always so busy—and frankly, a bit off putting at the best of times.
At least the PRT building is active, and there’s plenty to keep his attention. All the staff and heroes relocated here from the Protectorate HQ after it was washed ashore by the Endbringer. With the state of the city, people—including himself—roam the halls even this late at night. Harried accountants, agents on their third consecutive shift, a blonde girl about his age scowling at a vending machine—Dennis stops, and stares. She's tall for a girl, with dirty blonde hair and a few freckles peaking out of her PRT issue domino mask. Her outfit is very obviously civilian clothing, consisting of an oversized hoodie for Brockton University, and a pair of worn jeans.
There aren’t many people of Ward age around the base. A few of the PRT staff brought their families here to shelter temporarily, but they’re few enough that Dennis already knows them all. She could be one of them, but then the non-capes don’t tend to wear masks. Looking closer, he spots a guest lanyard hanging from a belt buckle, so she’s definitely supposed to be here.
After a moment of contemplation, the girl hits a few buttons, and one of the bags of chips starts to fall... only to get caught part way down. Her scowl deepens. Dennis steps forward, propelled by curiosity and loneliness.
"Machine giving you trouble?" he asks with forced amusement. The girl jerks her head towards him, eyes narrowing in what he swears is hostility.
She scans her gaze across him, from the clocks on his costume to the flat pane of his full face-mask. For some reason, Dennis feels as if she can see right through it, and is staring into his soul. Unnerving, but probably just his nerves.
"Damn thing stole my dollar," she says after a moment. To punctuate her point, she smacks the glass. Nothing happens, aside from attracting the attention of a few passerbys.
"Yeah, these things are rough. Want some help?" Dennis makes to grab the machine, only to stop when she tenses. He puts down his hand, and he sees her relax again. Then, as if realizing what just happened, her face twitches with annoyance and her cheeks go just a shade pinker.
"Nah, it's fine." She turns back to the machine. "I can solve it better myself anyway. See, these machines all have maintenance codes on them, that way they can be refilled or repaired by any tech or janitor."
Dennis's eyes widen behind his mask as she puts in a combination of eight different numbers, and ends it with two pound signs. The door pops open, and she snags her bag of chips.
"Want anything while I have it open?" she asks with an arched eyebrow.
Dennis suddenly becomes aware of the cameras on the wall, powered by the tinkertech generators Dragon was kind enough to provide. "Nah, I'm good."
The girl just shrugs. "Suit yourself."
Contrary to his expectations, she doesn't take anything else. Just shuts the door, and starts walking down the hall towards the elevator. Dennis falls into step next to her, thanking his luck that she's going in the direction he'd been going originally. It would be way too awkward to go back the way he came just to follow her.
"That's a neat trick you've got there," he comments neutrally. She doesn't respond, outside of a glance to confirm that she knows he's there. "Haven't seen you around before. New in town?"
Are you a new Ward?
A small smile twitches at the side of her face. "Nah, you've definitely seen me around before."
They pull to a stop in front of the elevator. "I have?" Dennis asks dumbly.
"Totally." The girl opens the elevator, steps in, and stops before he can start to follow. "You're heading down the right hall, right?" He is, but he doesn't know how she knows that. Her smile widens. "See you around, Clock."
Dennis stares at the closed elevator doors, and spends some time trying to figure out what just happened.