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Near the edge of the lecture hall, a young man wearing a black, white, and purple costume was resisting the urge to start bouncing his leg.  Damien—no, Werelight when he was in costume, he needed to get in the habit of switching between his ordinary name and his cape name—didn’t find the speech boring, but listening to speakers and attending meetings wasn’t quite what he’d expected when he signed up for the Junior Guard.

He hadn’t expected the borderline hostility that he’d received from his fellow group members and its administrators, either.  His team leader had reminded him of that yesterday when he claimed that the invitation Werelight had received was most likely sent to him by accident, and that he wasn’t important enough to attend the meeting.  Werelight hadn’t trusted him.  Sure enough, he hadn’t been summarily tossed out of the meeting when he had shown up anyway.  He wasn’t even the only member of the Junior Guard present.  He did receive a few looks, but Werelight was a relatively new cape; he was confident that was enough to explain it.

Werelight’s musings were interrupted by Director Banks’ introduction.  One line in particular stood out to him.

"We need the Final Guard. To put it bluntly, we've needed them for a while, but the governor is a busy lady."

[i]Finally,[/i] Werelight thought to himself.

Ever since he joined the Junior Guard, his new life had consistently failed up to his ideals.  His foster parents were...unenthusiastic, and depressingly bad at cooking; the other members of the Guard had their own issues; and his and his team’s opportunities to make a real impact on Samekh had been few and far between.  But this speech—delivered with the Director’s weight of authority—was a possible sign that things would change for the better.  He hadn’t mentioned the Junior Guard so far, but the Final Guard was going to be called upon to take action, which meant that the Juniors would most likely be next.  Right?

Werelight’s power stirred inside of him.  Immediately, he focused on his attention on it, worried about the possible consequences if it decided that the middle of a meeting was the perfect location to start causing trouble, but the movement quieted down on its own a second later.  [i]Was it restless?[/i]Werelight wondered.  He’d had his power for almost a full year by now, but he still couldn’t claim to understand what made it tick.  He knew the broad strokes of its motivations, but its continued refusal or inability to communicate with him barred him from learning more.  Maybe he’d work it out eventually.

He did know enough to say that it wanted to be used, though.  Hopefully, the impending troubles with the Fallen and Blood and Soil would be an opportunity for both of them to get what they wanted.

Not that that that would be a good thing for the city of Samekh, obviously.  Werelight had already spent time feeling guilty over the fact that he was secretly hoping for a chance to prove himself, a chance that would most likely end in chaos or death for some of Samekh’s many innocents.

In the aftermath of the speech, Werelight hesitated, uncertain about what to do.  The Final Guard capes were nearby, but about to engage Director Michael in conversation.  Without another Junior to back him up, Werelight didn’t feel comfortable getting involved in their discussion; he didn’t know the members of Final Guard well enough.  However, nobody else in the room struck him as an obvious conversation partner.

For the time being, Werelight decided to stay where he was, listening in on the fringes of the Guard’s discussion.  Perhaps another Junior would start a conversation he could get involved in—that would at least give him an option.