Scarcely a week after his return from the S-Grade, the news of Atlas’ awakening broke in earnest.

Atlas hadn’t done much in the interim. After being summoned to the Acquisitions Department, and paraded like a show pony in front of every skeezy member of the Assembly who was presently in town, they had given him time to “rest and recover.”

Atlas knew it wasn’t kindness that made them offer. It wasn’t concern for his safety, or something done for his comfort. It was a tacit order from the Guild President. One that she didn't intend to let him disobey.

It was, for lack of a better term, a time-out. A mandatory chance to sort out his own emotions and come to terms with his new reality.

 Except…Atlas was fine, and he probably should have been more concerned about exactly how fine he was.

At some point, tragedy became sort of…ordinary, when it happened to you enough. Maybe that was why nothing touched him these days.

That probably wasn’t good, either. 

No, none of the people who had died had been exceptionally close to him, but they had been people. They had innate value, even if they were…kind of terrible.

He digressed.

Atlas was obeying the unspoken order only. He told himself it was because it was sort of what he wanted to do anyway. After all, what was there out there for him now? There would be no shifts at the diner, or peaceful nights vacuuming the office, or any of the other places he’d wasted his time doing menial labor for menial wages.

He had a well-stocked fridge, and a cleaning service, and internet access. The washing machine was in-house, and the heat was infinitly better than it had been in his terrible studio apartment. 

He was perfectly content playing with his Skill and trying to understand the in and outs of what it did and didn’t do. At least for the foreseeable future.

In time, Phi woke up too. Bleary eyed and soft-spoken, at first, but becoming more lucid by the hour. He would have plenty of questions for her in the coming weeks, but he wasn’t in a rush. Not right now.

Atlas had always sort of lived with uncertainty. He was used to it. 

So he hadn’t left the penthouse in days. He wasn’t supposed to, and he didn’t want to anyway. He only knew that his awakening it had been announced at all because Zig texted him a link with lines and lines of red rage emojis filling the entire screen of his phone.

It was put out by a news agency with a close relationship to Portal Group. Clearly sanctioned by the higher ups, then.

[NEW AWAKENED FROM S-GRADE PORTAL ANNOUNCED AS EARLY S-CLASS HUNTER ATLAS CANE]

And Atlas knew better than to read it. It would only make him angry, to see the way they spoke about him like he suddenly had value now. He closed the link before his eyes could skim the first line.

He didn’t need to be reminded how worthless he had always felt, and how much the world had agreed.

So he occupied himself with the rest of his unpacking, and ordering ordinary, everyday things he’d been too budget conscious to get before. A softer blanket. More than one pillow. One of those stupid little machines that made the air wet enough that it didn’t sting your face.

It was nearly dinner that day when the bell to the penthouse rang. He actually hadn’t heard it before — Ace and Senka came and went when they pleased with their keys, and the rest of the staff here — from support workers to higher-ups like Izar— had access codes in the event of an emergency.

It seemed they weren’t especially concerned about Last Bastion protecting themselves.

In any case, Phi trotted after him as he padded down the stairs. Senka was looking after Charon — part of her vigilant adherence to “no member of Last Bastion is left alone” — and he knew already that Ace had a tendency to wanter around the penthouse with thickly padded noise-cancelling headphones. 

So he was opening the door himself. 

It was good that he did.

Just outside, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot with an overloaded plastic bag full of takeout in his hand, was Zig.

He looked ridiculous. He always looked ridiculous. He’d never grown out of his too big tanktops and harem pants, and his hats were so ragged that they bordered on unwearable. His fingers were covered in gold rings, thick-banded and shiny.

Even without seeing his face the dense freckles across his collarbone were a dead giveaway. An Abene telltale, and one that every member of the family wore a little bit differently. 

Atlas opened the door and held it steady with the back of his foot.

“Seriously, Zig? Is this some sort of emotional support takeout?”

Zig scowled. His eyes were tired and red-rimmed, like he hadn’t slept in days. “My bad for being a good friend. I thought you might be bummed about the world being in your business again.”

Atlas rolled his eyes, but he could feel the suffuse warmth of kindness that Zig always grudgingly wrung out of him. “Whatever, man. Come in. It’s just Ace and I right now.”

Zig shrugged and followed him past the mat, kicking his slides against the wall. They fell into a messy heap next to Atlas’ boots. “I brought enough to share. You’re welcome, by the way. You’re such an asshole.”

Ace spotted them just as they rounded the corner, giving a surprised little yelp that echoed across the living space. He shoved his headphones down and cleared his throat. “Ah — sorry. I didn’t hear the door.”

Zig gave an awkward little wave. “Hey, Ace. You probably don’t know me, but I’m Izar’s brother. Zig.”

Ace’s eyes went wide. The uncertainty fled his expression as quickly as it had arrived. “Oh! Yeah, he mentioned you. You’re a hunter too, right? He always tells us when you’re on missions in case he needs to take a call —”

Phi trilled, wound through Zig’s legs, and pawed at the takeout. 

I want some, she told Atlas. Tell him I want some. I am hungry.

“Hold on, Phi. Be patient.”

Ace blinked down at her, running a hand through his hair until the dent from his headphones was mussed away. “Oh! This is your Skill, right? What was her name? Phi?”

“Yes.” Atlas picked Phi up and dropped her onto his shoulder. She was still only a few ounces at most, even when she was corporeal. “She can talk if she wants to, so don’t let her scare you. She was resting up until a day or two ago.”

Phi blinked, long and unabashed, as she assessed Ace. She sniffed, and her eyes went orange.

“Woah! Freaky.” Zig waved his hand in front of her. “Why do her eyes scroll numbers like that?”

“I don’t know. Ask her. She’s literally right here.”

Phi blinked, and her eyes cleared. “It is a way to demonstrate to the user that I am processing something. Like a loading screen. This way, he knows that I am occupied.”

The two of them continued to talk to Phi, enraptured, Atlas watching with wry amusement, until the intercom came crackling to life above them.

It had only happened a handful of times, yet the sound was already something carved in his bones, anxiety-inducing and terrible.

“Atlas Cane, please report to Sparring Grounds A immediately." When he didn't respond, or immediately move to depart, it chimed again. "Atlas Cane —"

“I get it,” he called up to the ceiling. Not that anyone was listening. “I will report. You can stop asking.”

“They always repeat it a dozen times for assessments and evaluations,” Ace told him, wrinkling his nose. “That way we know exactly where to go. It’s annoying. That’s why I wear the headphones.”

Zig snickered. “Won’t they get mad at you if you don’t hear their announcements?”

Ace pinked. “Yeah. They get mad but like…I don’t know. They just send someone to get you eventually. It’s not the end of the world.”

But it was. 

For him.

Maybe it was fine. For someone like Ace, who had never been on the Guild President’s bad side. A tiny act of rebellion, one they allowed to keep him in line.

But Atlas had already tested his restraints. He’d already pulled and pulled and pulled.

He couldn’t have a repeat performance of his attitude in the meeting at Acquisitions. Not until he had better footing here.

The Guild President could make his life a living hell if she wanted to. It was probably not smart for him to continue to give her more reasons to do so.

“I’ll head down,” he said, scratching the back of his head. Zig glanced at him, eyes wide and mildly surprised. “I’ve already ticked her off once. I don’t know that I should keep at it."

Ace bit his thumb nail. “The take out —”

“You two eat it.” Atlas headed back towards the front door, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and fidgeting with his lighter. “I don’t think I’ll be back for a long time.”