Even the most cunning of geniuses could be struck by misfortune and compelled to miss the obvious.  As it happened, such an occurrence would have looked completely ordinary compared to Elliot's oversight.  So busy had he been thinking about the brashness -and potential collateral damage- of turning off his power without so much of a warning, the toymaker failed to realize exactly what such nullification meant for one whose abilities had become a terrible curse.  When the thought, galvanized into action by Alesa's own realization, came to him, Elliot's eyebrows shot up.  Of course!  Sitting right before the Wards this whole time lay a piece of technology capable of freeing Collin from his fresh new hell.  

Of course, Elliot did not receive the urge to rush over and foist a couple kisses on Ira.  One of his eyebrows remained raised as he considered Alessa's rather impulsive act.  No way in hell he could have gotten away with something like that, whether or not it originated from pure joy.  Perhaps he'd been missing out on certain developments between his teammates?  Such a discovery wouldn't have surprised him.  Who, after all, would just go and converse with the eccentric, eloquent outsider, as if he were a human being?  Being a chosen one -fate's champion in the earthly realm- came with the steep price of getting the memo last if at all.  No matter; Elliot found himself wondering instead if this new invention might even be capable of returning Collin to duty as the Wards' leader.  The kid couldn't offer much in the way of combat, but Elliot liked him more than the new leader by a long shot.  He'd always been too innocent to intuit, as the others did, that chosen ones were best pushed to the fringes.  Plus, a return to the old system would mean knocking Dean back down a peg—his tenure as co-captain already felt too long.

Soon after the Wards dispersed.  Needles of relief and comfort pierced Elliot's mind, but the potential resurrection of Collin did not mean the kind of danger that put him down for the count in the first place no longer existed. From this day forward, Elliot knew, it would be a different world out there.

[center]-=-=-[/center]

The next day's training session landed the antihero back in the facility's gymnasium.  Instead of the usual fare, Elliot found an unfamiliar face ready to begin the day's physical education, which in a secure location like the PRT meant only one individual: Protean.  This change hardly fazed him; after all, a true sixth ranger needed to adapt to stay with the times.  In a shifting world, where governments and cultures rose and fell, right and wrong dueled like rock'em, sock'em robots, and nothing was as it seemed, any hero bent on standing his ground would be swallowed up by history in the blink of an eye.  Elliot crouched, adopting a quizzical expression and placement of hands, to await further revelation.

It wasn't good—superficially.  So, big Dean, the brave one, the right-hand man, the dependable ally, had flown the coop.  Elliot never would have expected it, but he welcomed it.  It would only make him look better in comparison.  Of course, it also meant that he was the only gentleman in a battalion of ladies.  How would that play out, he wondered?  [i]No difference at all,[/i] he felt sure.  Standing, he gave a dismissive shrug and turned to stare into the distance, hands spread wide with palms up.  [color=8F9779]”I knew it from the start.  He wore a mask of audacity and ego, but when the going got tough, he let fly his true colors.  Even if we are gripped by tragedy or plagued by fear, heroes never give up the fight.”[/color]  And with that, he gave up on Dean completely.

Only a few moments later, Elliot and the bunch were off running.  For a brief moment he wondered who might replace Dean as second in command, but brushed it off to focus on the task at hand.