Oliver eventually found some paltry peace in his solitude, reclining a little further into his seat as he bathed within the warm, enveloping glow of the monitor. Perhaps- he supposed- it was being around people so keen and full of vigour that had left him in such a reticent (if not a little tart) state of being. Jack, before them, had been that way: So intrepid and venturesome, keen to sail out into the titian sunset and leave him panting in the watery brume at his flank… And the last thing Oliver needed was another shadow to live in. There was no doubt in his mind that, one day, Malika would be training future Moderators-to-be in the art of combat, peppy then as she is now, and almost thrice as competent. Kirina would probably be transferred to a far superior sector- perhaps Tokyo, to work with Jack- too, once she’d matured enough, and Juno… … Well, Juno was bitter too, but she wasn’t [i]him[/i], so she probably had [i]some[/i] skill or another the Administrators would one day call upon. But Oliver… Oliver wasn’t going anywhere but down. In the years to come, he would undoubtedly gain his reputation as the [i]”Most Mediocre Moderator Ever”[/i], and be forcibly retired before his reflexes had the chance to deteriorate any further. And following that, he would eventually fade from memory, replaced by some younger, fitter Red 101, until the history books remembered him only as “Oliver Baudwin – Brother of Jack”, and nothing more. But these morbid futures only ever seemed to linger with him in the presence of his team… alone, he found relief in other thoughts. For now, they surrounded his Initialiser: That sleek, black alloy which clung comfortably to his wrist, and resonated faintly with the pulsating energy of a Red Moderator. They’d issued it to [i]him[/i], of all people: This tool, entrusted only to defenders of the Earth… The best of the best. True, in the case of the Proto-City Moderators, it had been a gesture of desperation: They’d selected the best of the [i]worst[/i], for fear of otherwise leaving themselves unguarded… But still, the gesture was an immense one. He’d taken his father’s role in a team of warriors, entrusted with the lives of millions… And that idea touched him. The jacket he bore still weighed greatly upon him, but in these rare moments of deep thought, it seemed lighter somehow. Slowly, Oliver reached out, brushing his fingertips against the warm metal of his Initialiser. It was smooth, inviting, and… [i]“If you wish on something a lot, then it'll come true, that’s what Mum told me,"[/i] A new tone piped up, suddenly. [I][b]”Jesus Christ we’re under attack!”[/b][/i] was Oliver’s first thought, although it did him little good. His palm suddenly slammed against his Initialiser, barely- [i]very[/i] barely- missing the Modifier trigger, which would’ve activated his hookshot. But quickly enough, he realised who’d spoken up, and breathed a- shaken- sigh of relief. “H-Haah… hey, Marvin,” he spoke, tone quivering, steeling himself again. He didn’t turn around. “Give a guy a little warning, won’t y-” [i]"Is anything happening?"[/i] “Gah!” This time, he was not so fortunate. Jumping, Oliver’s thumb struck against his modifier, engulfing his fist in a massive sphere of writhing red energy- a cloud of data, composed of bijou, rapidly changing integers and binary- before sealing it into a crimson gauntlet, topped by a closed set of metallic talons. Then, suddenly, what seemed like an ignition spark erupted from the gauntlet’s palm, before those same talons shot across the room suddenly, burying themselves in the closest surface- a brass wall- and wrenching Oliver across the room like a sack of rice tied to a tailgate. He struck the wall with an unnervingly plosive [i]thump[/i], before sliding impotently down to the floor, leaving a small trail of vermillion in his wake. He laid there in a heap for a few long moments, before groaning uncomfortably, and dragging himself into the sitting position. He’d been fortunate: All he’d sustained was a busted lower lip. Still, it reflected very poorly upon the team as a whole that one of them had sustained an injury before their first assignment. Oliver sat there for a few moments, before very slowly getting to his feet, his hookshot dissipating slowly into a cloud of glowing red spheres, before disappearing all together. Then, he moved quietly and uncomfortably back to his seat, lurching to the left and right on occasion as he regained his bearings. He fell back into his chair, before rotating it to face Marvin and Michelle. He exhaled deeply. “No, nothing is happening,” he spoke, eventually, after what must have been five seconds of silent chaos. “Not a thing.” But, as Sod’s Law would have it, something was [i]about[/i] to happen. Before Oliver even had the chance to rub his jaw and just generally feel sorry for himself, the Moderator’s logo which haunted the screen behind him began to spin rapidly, letting out a thrum of sharp, mechanical rings. Oliver hadn’t even managed to turn around, before a new face appeared on screen. She was a woman no older than thirty, with a coffee-coloured complexion and hair that fell in thick, glossy brown ringlets. Her facial features were hard and defined- from her high cheeks to her sharp nose- and despite her eyes being a natural hazel, her left was a vivid electrical blue… Because it was cybernetic, as were many other parts of her. Officially, hair name was Alice, a sub-Administrator who had, at some point in the past, held the title of Green 03. But due to her patchwork nature- having been implanted with a variety of cybernetics, following a potentially fatal accident- she garnered a nickname for herself. The Ragdoll. She scowled down at Oliver, eyes narrowed and lips curled into an irritable frown. “Red 101,” she greeted, tone cold and hard as the metal which’d substituted much of her flesh. “R-Rag- Alice,” he replied, head swimming still, “To what do we, uh…” “You’re injured,” she acknowledged, “How on Earth has that occurred.” She spoke as though her question needed no tonal change, monotonous and cool. “I, uh… no idea what you’re talking,” the Australian murmured in reply, “Must be… must be something wrong with the camera. I’ll look at it later.” “Hrm.” “Y-Yeah. Anyway, is there something else I can help you with?” Ragdoll didn’t reply, she simply threw her eyes around the place, scanning Marvin and Michelle closely. “This is not your squadron.” “U-Uh, the rest of them are upstairs, I think…” “Ah, good,” she nodded, her voice softening very lightly, “You are clearly very into your civilian identities. Perhaps you are not quite so incompetent as I had previously surmised.” [i]”Oooh yes we are.”[/i] “Yeah, they’re just closing up shop!”, Oliver continued, “We can’t all disappear at once, you know?” “I do,” she nodded, “Well done, Red 101.” “You, uh… you can just call me Oliver if yo-” “Unfortunately, your work day does not end here, [i]Red 101.[/i]” “Oh…?” Suddenly, Ragdoll’s head was compressed to a quart of the screen’s size, and moved to the bottom left as a new camera feed took over the majority of the display. It was a scene of rippling, steaming water: Broiling sea brine, bubbling preternaturally and pushing all the ships within its vicinity outwards. The supports of the wooden docks which seemed to flank the occurrence crumbled and broke beneath it, and smaller vessels began to sink beneath the waves as civilians on the mainland watched in a mixture of awestruck silence and outright panic. Oliver blinked, dazedly. “What am I looking at?” “Your new assignment. Gather your team, we’ve got a class C virus attacking Proto-City’s eastern harbour.” “Eastern harbour?! That’s a half hour away, we’ll never make it in time!” Ragdoll sighed, shaking her head lightly as- to Oliver’s right- the eighth copper wall panel made a distinct, metallic clicking sound, symbolising that it’d finally been unlocked. “Summon your team.” And with that, Ragdoll- and the display as a whole- disappeared, leaving the Moderators alone and in stunned silence. Oliver slowly turned to the staircase. “… Guuuys?”, he called, eventually, “You, uh… you might wanna come down here.”