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Glam talks to Armsmaster about the possibility of maybe being given access to confidential files on the Slaughterhouse Nine and is, somewhat predictably, completely shut down, on grounds that the rules are there for a reason. They try sharing their strategies, Armsmaster thanks them for it and assures them he'll look into the raised matter, but they still need to wait until they're a full member of the Protectorate to take advantage of these resources.
And is that supposed to make them more likely to want to stick around? Ugh.
The three following weeks are fairly quiet and peaceful for a change. No major engagements, the Empire Eighty-Eight has been keeping quiet, the various Asian gangs reduced once more to fighting each other, the Teeth haven't yet rebuilt. Blasto, Lung, and Oni Lee are still awaiting trial, though it's likely the tinker will be given a lighter sentence in some parahuman containment center while the other two will be sent to the Birdcage.
And then, somewhat earlier than would normally be expected, telltale seismic activity is registered in Pretoria, South Africa. The capes wishing to help must make their way to New York, to depart in an hour—small aircraft is waiting at the PHQ for the trip there.
(As well as the New Wave capes, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Velocity, Transit, Dauntless, Rewind, Glimmer, and Silica—a.k.a. the Brockton Bay heroes who can help one way or another in an Endbringer fight—and eleven minor capes from nearby towns, including three rogues and one villain.)
"Okay. Are you ready? I'm ready. I'm not ready. I hope it works. Will it work? It won't work. It'll work. Will it work?"
In Glam's ear the comm whispers, "Try being under for this one?"
"It takes a while. It's easier to snap you out of it than to induce. And you need to be calm and I'm not sure you're getting calmer."
"Yeah. But. Probably not start now unless you can do it before we reach New York. And New York's right over there. A hop and a jump away. Barely any time. Probably best to wait."
The tinker plane gets ready for takeoff fifteen minutes later.
"I don't know. Am I ready? I think I'm ready. I'm not ready. I need to calm down. Caaaaaalm down. Calm."
...The bot starts murmuring calmingly in their ear. To help. And then a bit more than help.
Glam starts to go under. Slooooowly at first, they're very not-calm, but it'll take about three hours for the plane to arrive at their destination, so there's time.
The bot is careful not to let them manifest any suspicious items in the plane.
And so they don't, but their mask starts reflecting the abstracted, relaxed look that must be on their face.
People do sure glance their way every now and then, but well, people glance every way every now and then. No one seems to actually be paying attention to them, though.
...Bot nudges Glam into having a serious emoji on their mask.
And when they're approaching they can construct a standard Glam-at-Endbringer-fight raygun together made of bullshit and trickery. Plausible deniability.
Glam may not be in the best headspace to immediately answer. Or notice that a question has been asked.
The shoulderbot can call up the webisode to cover for this.
And then they start decelerating a few miles away from the city proper, getting ready to land.
And Lorica flies with Glam to a safe hang-back space while her bots swarm out to provide eyes and ears. Some of them carry the gun. (Everyone expects that if three bots cooperate on lifting a thing their builder just helped assemble it will turn out to be light enough for them.)
An Alexandria package cape who was in the plane offers to help carry the gun.
The bots that are hanging back with Lorica and Glam get a good view of Behemoth.
And Lorica waits for the go-ahead from the higher-ups that Glam's supposed to drop a Siberian on him.