"'Feels'?" asks Miss Militia.

"Genetic?" asks Magnet Master. "I mean, we used to think so too but then there were those things with adopted kids..."

"--So I don't read minds without permission but I can sort of feel the general outline all the time, I can't turn that part off, and our kind--it's definitely genetic, the gene responsible has been identified--we feel different from baseliners, and you do too but in a completely different way."

"...telepaths, no tinkers, feel different, are you saying you're not actually parahumans?" asks Magnet Master. "And what do you mean by 'the gene,' there's no way a single gene does both telepathy and metalokinesis."

"--There's a gene that makes you a mutant, what kind of mutation you have is based on a bunch of other genes."

"Well, it's not any weirder than Suddenly Superpowers in the eighties," he shrugs.

"In the...what year is it now?"

"It's January 2004?"

"For us it is--was--July 1981."

"That's before Scion even showed up," mutters Miss Militia. "No one had powers yet, back then."

"Mutations have been around for--hundreds of years, at least, it's just it's only now that people have the ability to organize in low-density groups over large distances. And we seem to be getting more common."

"Your world might be farther from ours than I thought," she says.

"It does kinda seem like it."

The van slows down to a stop.

"I assume this is where we've been going?"

"It is," Miss Militia agrees, and someone opens the van doors for them. They're in a garage, the doors of which are guarded by people in suits similar to the ones worn by the officers who took the downed villains during the fight. The other vans are nowhere to be seen, but Armsmaster's bike is parked there, although the hero himself isn't. "The Director or the Deputy Director will probably be the ones to talk to you about what we'll do, they're the ones in charge of this branch of the PRT and therefore the Protectorate, but for the moment we can at least offer our hospitality."

"Thanks--is it weird that part of me is going 'ooh, fancy future hospitality'?"

Miss Militia's smile is visible moving her bandana and her eyes. "It sounds very reasonable."

"I am excited about fancy future amenities!"

She laughs and starts leading the way.

"If you don't have tinkers it must be even more of a shock," Magnet Master comments. "'Cause like, even consumer electronics got a boost from those so when your world gets to now it won't be as advanced, and this building has lots of tinker tech."

"Neat."

"It is!!" he agrees enthusiastically.

Here's a door that leads to a corridor that leads to a cylindrical elevator with smooth glass doors. The doors open as soon as they arrive.

Both of the twins do a disproportionate amount of looking around, but with sufficiently neutral expressions that it doesn't cross over into Weird Gawking.

Parahumans are maybe slightly proud of their future amenities. One parahuman, in particular, is concentrating most of this pride.

The elevator ride is probably the smoothest ride they've been in: noiseless, continuous, pretty much no feeling of acceleration, fast. Two levels above the garage it shows them a view of a two-story-tall reception room slash museum of sorts: there are various couches and sofas, two statues of heroes, various posters and images, flat-screened televisions showing news and parahuman documentaries and children's shows, various reception desks, a full quarter of the room is dedicated to a gift shop. There are children in a school group gawking at the hero paraphernalia (mini Armsmaster bike! Miss Militia and Chevalier action figures! themed children's costumes! a Dauntless action figure with separately-purchased weapons and equipment! Echo toy grapplers!), and more PRT officers hanging around near exits unobtrusively.

"What's up with that?"

"With what?" Magnet Master asks.