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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.
"I'm—I—I don't—I mean, you were right to want to kill him. Fuck, even if the Slaughterhouse Nine decides to try to kill everyone Behemoth would've killed, they won't actually succeed. But I just—keep thinking I could've planned better, should've figured out he'd escalate, that's what they do-"
"I was a little clumsy getting her to do stuff early on and he didn't leave when his arm was off, I couldn't have very well just - stopped -"
They look again out at the devastation. "I suppose it could've been worse, if Scion hadn't appeared..."
They sigh. "This was a triumph. Behemoth is dead. Victory. We can't spin this into something bad, it's one of the best possible outcomes," they start murmuring to themself as they resume evac.
"Yeah. That sounds good." Pause. "The Brockton Bay Protectorate probably won't return whole, will it? I don't know if I want to know who we lost."
They wince. "Tell—tell me when we're about to board the plane. I don't want to be craning my neck looking around and hoping someone's just late."
"O—okay. I—guess I'm ready. Who did we lose?"
A much smaller number of capes will be in the plane once it takes off. And Glam will spend most of the trip cuddling Lorica, dozing off every now and then and waking up with a start a few times.