(AAA…) HASTE

Colin Wallis had built his career on preparation. Every patrol, every engagement, and every public appearance was calculated to help further his agenda. They weren't left to chance. Anticipation and readiness weren’t just strengths; they were the foundation of survival, the bedrock of his reputation as Armsmaster.

But the thought that came to him now hadn’t been planned. It had appeared without warning, a flash of insistent insight cutting through the lines of data scrolling across his HUD.

Sophia Hess.

He knew her type, abrasive, impulsive, and prone to violence. The sort who mistook recklessness for bravery and discipline for weakness. He’d seen a dozen like her in his years as Armsmaster, and every one of them eventually reached the same breaking point: the moment when the weight of their actions threatened to crush them, and they lashed out at whatever, or whoever, was the presumed cause of their misfortune.

That was the thought that made him stop mid-motion in his workshop, the delicate calibration of the teleportation function of his halberd forgotten instantly.

A bullying report had crossed his desk earlier that week. Taylor Hebert, a civilian, was the repeated victim, and Sophia Hess—Shadow Stalker—was named as one of the main aggressors. Despite her status as a Ward, it hadn't been difficult to believe. He didn’t need to be a Thinker to connect those dots.

But the problem wasn’t the bullying itself.

The problem was optics.

Public confidence in the PRT ENE was already at its lowest, its reputation battered from ABB activity, the Empire’s boldness, and the lingering reminders of the Protectorate’s own failings. Another scandal, especially one involving a Ward, could tip public trust into the spark that turned public distrust into outright hatred. 

They couldn’t afford that, so the plan had been made quickly and kept simple: call the parties in for questioning, collect statements, verify the facts, and contain the fallout.

That was all.

But Colin knew the type of person Sophia Hess was. He knew what people like her did when backed into a corner. And now, staring at the blinking cursor of his console, the sudden, gnawing realization took hold.

What if Taylor Hebert had already discovered Hess’s secret identity? What if Hess believed she had?

How would she react?

He didn’t need to run simulations to know the answer to that damning question. 

His gauntleted hand clenched around the halberd shaft, the servos whining with the force of it.

“Dragon,” he said, already moving, his armored boots striking the workshop floor with soft yet powerful footfall. “Inform the Director I’m leaving PHQ immediately to deal with a situation that involves Sophia Hess, and that there is a possible threat escalation. The location is Brockton General Hospital.”

Dragon’s voice came through the speaker in his lab, calm but tinged with concern. “Colin, you’ll need to wait—”

“No time.” His tone was sharper than intended, but he didn’t retract them. He couldn’t. Every second was another second Taylor Hebert might not have. “Just notify Piggot. I’ll handle the rest.”

He didn’t wait for her acknowledgment.

The halberd folded into its compact travel configuration against his back, his helmet sealed with a hiss—systems syncing instantly—and then he was moving, striding down the corridors of the PHQ toward the launch bay.

Sophia Hess was dangerous in the field, dangerous even among allies, but cornered and potentially exposed? 

That was worse.

And as Colin launched into motion, a single thought gnawed at him.

He prayed he wasn’t already too late.