They expected him to choose. The team expected him to choose his path: Warrior or Dispatcher. The Island expected him to choose where to establish his presence. Bation expected him to choose the island.

After months of waiting, of putting off the inevitable. He stared at the meeting notice that Ryan had left on his desk in his too-perfect handwriting.

10 am Chamuel’s Proposal

He didn’t know what his proposal was supposed to be. He didn’t know anything about it until the notice had been placed. A proposal was for someone who had prepared for the meeting, but he was not that someone.

He barely knew who he was these days.

The kids he trained with had given him suggestions over the months: skatepark, dance parties, and a “love shack, like from the song”. Nothing sounded like something a Saint would do, though he was intrigued by the fact that the island did not already have a skate park or parties.

He strode to the conference room with confidence he did not have. He knew his options, shack included, but he also knew that anything that he was going to say would have to be approved by both Father Bation and Ryan “the handler”.

Heads turned toward him as he finally walked inside, three minutes late, and took his seat at the full table. The four sat to one side of the table while Father Bation, Ryan, Princess Lillian, and a man he had never seen before sat on the other.

The unknown man briefly introduced himself as Emanuel, the head of the “Bishops,” the lower-ranking half of Bation’s Angel army. He studied Chamuel with kind eyes that seemed to know too much.

“Father Bation has told me much about you, Chamuel,” He started slowly, making a face at his name as though it tasted like poison to him, “I must say that I am impressed at your progress with your training, not many people could have noticed that the monster was just a distressed mother, let alone during so much chaos.”

Chamuel shrugged, fidgeting with his hurried notes that he made in the few free minutes he had before the meeting was scheduled, “You should see some of the kids I’m training with who can still kick my ass; I’m sure at least one of them could have done more than I did.”

“I believe you would be wrong,” He could feel the reassuring smile as it burrowed into his heart.

Bation cleared his throat as he rose, silencing the quiet side conversations. “We are all on tight schedules today. I hope this meeting will not go over despite the late start.” He looked to Chamuel, who sank in his seat, “To start with, how are the rations progressing?”

Raphael began to speak, but Auriel took over before she could, “Rations are surpassing island needs, and we are beginning to store the excesses.”

“Pickling and drying mostly in the warehouses, but some are being packaged for the alliances that Princess Lillian has been working towards. They are asking us to prove our worth outside of war.” Raphael spoke with unhidden annoyance.

“Outside of war?” Bation asked, confusion written in every crease of his face.

“They are not warring countries; they want to know what we can offer in long periods of peace for things like trade deals.” The Princess clarified, her voice soft and airy, reminding him of a ballad.

Bation nodded thoughtfully, “and of our judicial system?”

Michael leaned forward, her arms folded across her chest, “Taken care of, the line for criminal is short and civil inquiries are at an all-time low.” She sat back, looking to Princess Lillian to disagree with her.”

“Civil inquiries are largely the same complaint by multiple people and are being addressed as thoroughly as we can.” The princess’s tone was tired, as though the mere mention of it reminded her of mountains of paperwork that likely sat on her desk. Chamuel wondered if that was why they seemed so similar, as two sides of the same coin: Criminal vs. Civil jurisdictions.

“And the economy?”

“Poor, stable, but still poor. We need the trade deals that the Princess has been negotiating to change that.” Gabriel spoke quickly, as though she were afraid of being the only Saint with a “bad” report to give.

Bation nodded and turned his attention to Chamuel, his burning gaze searing into his face as he refused to meet his eyes, “The rest of our time seems to be yours, Chamuel. I hope you will have better than the others did.” Bation sat as Chamuel shakily rose, his notes suddenly written in a foreign language he had never learned to read.

“Um, I uh,” He shuffled his notes, deciding where to start, “I didn’t know I was proposing anything until today…”

Someone snorted, trying to hide a laugh. He assumed it was Michael, but she seemed like she’d been turned into a statue.

“Um, starting with the one that seems more relevant to what was just said. I’m going to propose tourism.” He ignored the immediate reaction from both sides of the table, from confusion to outrage, “I’m aware that it’s probably the worst thing that I could propose, given the fact that Auriel and I were both public figures. However, I believe that we could use that status to our advantage. People would pay to see the Island that we both have spent so much time on, even if it didn’t seem like a paradise to an outside eye.”

“It would help with the economy?” Bation asked, unconvinced.

“We would need some improvements in places and entertainment spots to keep people coming, but once we get them in and market them, it would help out the economy a lot.”

“What would it do to our resources?”

“That would depend on how they are used, but if our rations are in surplus, then we should be able to house tourists by the time that we can accept them. Plus, if we gain more in our economy, then our citizens would benefit as well, with more options for entertainment, employment, and international delicacies they would not have otherwise gotten hold of.”

“How many new jobs can you estimate?” Gabriel asked, excited by the notion.

“Between hospitality, restaurants, boating, construction, and souvenirs. We could be talking about hundreds of new jobs.”

“We don’t have hundreds of unemployed people.” The new man, Emanuel, pointed out.

“Maybe not, but with more amenities and public attention on the island, we should see a spike in immigration to the island, which would bring in the money that they had from their original homes.”

“What sort of things would we need?”

“Restaurants, hotels, clubs, boat tours, island tours, a skatepark, beachside bars, anything touristy you can think of.” Chamuel listed, thinking of the things that he used to do whenever he had vacationed before.

“Concert venues?” Auriel asked, perking up.

“Anything we can get here,” Chamuel answered.

“We’d need to expand our electrical systems and our plumbing.” Princess Lillian said thoughtfully, “But I think we have the base layer for this.”

“What about the Saints? Will this affect how the team operates?” Bation asked, sitting back in his seat.

“We, as Saints,” Chamuel began slowly, “Will be more visible as the tourism increases, but if we are supposed to save the world from itself, then we would be very visible eventually anyway. All this does is move that forward, and gives us more time to gain their trust before we have to help them through whatever is to come later.”

Bation nodded thoughtfully, letting the room fall into silence as he let Chamuel’s words flow through his mind. Chamuel began to shift as doubt began to set in; he hoped that his largest reason had remained hidden from the table. But it wasn’t a far jump from the team’s new visibility, gaining the trust of the world, to the team’s families finally knowing where they are and what really happened to them.

“Alright, begin preparations for that and have the official plan and timeline to the princess by the end of the month.” Bation finally spoke, “Now onto the secondary proposal, your position on the team.”

Chamuel hesitated, “The first thing that Michael said to me was that I would train myself to death, and then wake up and do it all over again until I was fit for the name of Saint. The next was that she does not need or want another warrior. I do intend to do both. I have been training as much as I have been allowed by the instructor and studying everything available in our filing system. I have also already spoken with Ryan about acting as support for the team.”

“Support?” Bation asked, expecting a different answer.

“Yes, dispatching, aiding the team, making field calls, finding information for them, that sort of thing.” Chamuel nodded.

He hummed in response.

“That’s just what he’d be able to do from the office. As his training continues, he will be given Bishop responsibilities and be cleared for field service if something happens to the main four.” Ryan quickly added, leaning over the arm of his chair as though it were a private conversation between the two of them instead of a meeting with nine people.

“I have every intention of being on the same playing field as the rest of the team. Even if it takes me a lifetime.” Chamuel spoke, more sure of that statement than he remembered being in anything else. As Bation’s focus shifted to the rest of the team, that feeling faltered as though his hard stare was the only reason he had felt that way.

“Very well, we will see how this plan of yours works out, Chamuel.” He closed out the meeting, pushing himself up from his seat, and his side of the table quickly left as the four rose.

The moment the door closed behind Ryan, the last of that side to leave, Auriel’s head snapped toward him, “You want to let more people on the island?”

“I want our families and friends to know what actually happened to us. If everyone else’s is like yours, they think we’re dead. They have graves that they visit and cry to, asking for answers that the stone can’t give them. Answers that we can give them, whether or not they actually come.”

“How do you plan on doing that without Bation shutting it down?” Gabriel asked.

“We address what it means to be a Saint during marketing, they’ll know that we are alive, and that we are putting our lives on the line for Bation’s mission.”