The shrill shriek of an insistent alarm filled the small room, its space only large enough for a king sized bed, a chair and desk with a laptop, and a minifridge. A closet, barely sufficient to hold a handful of shirts and pants, was in one corner, opposite another door leading to a tiny bathroom. On the far side of the room another door led to the motel hall, lined with other identical rooms.

It was fortunate for the people in those other rooms that they were all soundproof, because that alarm went on for long enough to have woken up everyone on that floor otherwise. Finally, the curled up ball of blankets on the bed began to twitch and a groan of annoyance escaped just as a pale hand forced its way out of the bundle of cloth and slapped the mattress. The figure tried to call out something, but the first time the words came, they were too muffled to actually be understood, and the hand had to reach back to pry part of the blankets up, exposing a mouth just enough for the second try to actually be audible. "Alarm off! Off, off, alarm off, turn off!"

But nothing happened. The alarm wasn't advanced enough to be controlled by voice like that, and just continued shrieking. Finally, with a series of curses, the figure under the blankets pushed herself up and rolled off the bed. She almost fell before catching herself, muttering with annoyance as she stumbled over to the desk where the laptop sat. Arleigh Fosters was just barely awake enough by that point to realize that the alarm was from an insistent voice chat request. But not just any request. It was coming from a number identified as Minority Support.

In that moment, Arleigh had to stop muttering curses to herself about what idiot had left the call alerts on such a high volume. Mostly because she was that idiot. Well, not an idiot, she did it on purpose. Calls from everyone else were silenced, but she had intentionally set it up so that if these people called, it would screech loud enough to wake her up and keep her up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, before she was jolted out of a dead sleep so unceremoniously.

Taking a deep breath, the girl hit the button to accept the call. Her voice would be automatically distorted to protect her identity as she spoke quickly. "Yes, it's Clime, I'm still here, didn't take off, yada yada. Did I pass the test, can I go back to bed or do we have to play more mind games?"

The response was crisp and immediate, the tone making it clear that the person speaking had a few doubts about what they were saying, and might not have even done so at all if it was up to them. "Clime, your immediate presence has been requested at Minority Base for an active situation."

Well, that was enough to wake the girl up even more than she had already been. The very last lingering bit of grogginess vanished as the words penetrated. "Wait, huh? Hey are you fucks just messing with me right now? Cuz that'd be some real bullshit, and I don't think you wanna see--"

"Keep personal and unprofessional remarks off official communications," the voice interrupted. If Arleigh had been able to see their face, she knew there would be a hard scowl. "Once more, your presence has been officially requested at base. Are you able to comply with the request?" They didn't quite add, 'please just say no,' but the implication was there right under the surface.

If any part of Arleigh had been leaning toward finding an excuse to decline the request, it died the instant she realized that that was exactly what the voice on the call wanted her to do. She straightened up a little and bit back the sharp retort that tried to escape. Instead, the girl adopted her best impression of a professional response. "Acknowledged, Support. I'll be there as soon as possible." By some miracle, she managed to avoid adding any sort of curse, and even kept herself from saying, 'so sit on that and spin.' She simply agreed to go in, then killed the call.

Once that was done and no one could hear her, Arleigh let out a whoop, punching her fist into the air before sprinting into the bathroom. Unfortunately, the room was small and unfamiliar enough that she proceeded to bang her knee on the side of the bed, then stubbed her opposite toe in the resulting stumbling. A series of curses escaped her as she quickly rushed through things in the bathroom, getting herself ready. It was happening, it was really happening. They needed her help. She had thought it would take longer than this before they'd even try to let her be part of a real mission, but they'd already called her in. It had only been a week or so since she joined up.

Arleigh had wanted to join the Minority as soon as she got her powers. She'd tried to convince her dad that having someone on that team who could keep them advised about what was going on, someone who could spy on the other teen Star-Touched, would be a good idea. He told her no at the time, but in the wake of Whamline being revealed as a traitor and then dying, with the Minority in such trouble right as there were so many other problems with the lockdown and all that, she had asked him again. She tried to convince him that it made sense for Clime to have a change of heart, that she could switch sides and say she wanted to help people now. It was the best chance they were going to get, considering how desperate the heroes were for some help.

Her dad had refused again, of course. He insisted that she couldn't pull off something like that and that she needed to be where he could keep an eye on her. But that time, their conversation had been overheard by Sequoia, and he had cut in to tell them that he thought it was a good idea. The tree and her father had argued a bit, but in the end, the decision was made. Arleigh would be allowed to switch sides and play Star-Touched for awhile, at least to see how it went.

Leaving the bathroom at a quick trot, she went to the closet and yanked out a hidden panel in the back that reacted to her fingerprint. Inside was her costume. Or rather, her new costume. Yes, everyone knew she was Clime. She wasn't hiding that, but the authorities still thought it was best if she had at least a somewhat different appearance to illustrate her changed loyalties.

The new suit had been designed and provided by Ten Towers, supposedly as a welcome gift for switching sides. It consisted of metallic black pants with a very intricate white pattern on them that looked like a series of wispy clouds. Her boots and gloves were white, and she had a deep blue long-sleeved top with its own pattern of clouds. These ones, however, looked thicker and darker, like storm clouds against an evening sky. A single thin lightning bolt image arced from the top right (her left) near her shoulder, down toward the bottom left (her right). And her face was hidden behind a black metal helmet with no actual visible eyes or mouth, its blank surface polished to a sheen. Whenever she spoke, small, completely random patterns of lightning-like flashes would appear here and there across the front of the helmet, like it was a sky in a storm.

Once she was dressed in this new costume, Arleigh took a second to check herself in the mirror. Fuck that jerk Micah for saying she wouldn't last ten minutes with these people. He was just a prick, a jealous prick who couldn't stand that she was doing something he couldn't. And she sure as hell wasn't about to go running back home the second she got in a fight without him and the rest of their family to protect her. She could do this. She could absolutely do this. It was just playing hero, taking cats out of trees, scaring off burglars, beating up those stupid pricks from Oscuro or whatever. How hard could it be? Especially with a whole team backing her up. A team that didn't include a brother who thought it was so damn funny to see how often he could leave her covered in garbage or anything else that would leave his sister smelling like shit.

Well to hell with Micah. She'd show him and their dad. She'd show all of them just how good she could be at this shit. Shaking off those thoughts, Arleigh moved not toward the main exit into the rest of the motel, but to what looked like an ordinary blank wall. The room was actually one of what were apparently several safehouses Ten Towers had throughout the city. They'd given this one for her to stay in until there was a more permanent arrangement available. In other words, until they decided whether she was actually going to stick around or not. She wasn't allowed to know the identities of the other Minority people yet, or anyone else's. She didn't hang out with them, didn't stay in that Minority clubhouse or anything like that. She wasn't trusted enough yet.

Of course, maybe part of the reason she wasn't trusted was because she was lying so much and they could sense it. Arleigh might have been allowed to switch sides, to (supposedly) leave Sherwood behind and join up with the Minority, but her dad and Sequoia wouldn't just let her give away all their secrets. Instead, with a bit of help from the Ministry to back up her story, she had claimed that she didn't know the real identities of the rest of Sherwood, that they only acted together in costume and that the leaders were as intent on their own secrecy as they were on spying on everyone else. The whole city knew that anyone who lived inside Sherwood's territory was constantly being monitored. She claimed that from the moment she developed her powers, Hemlock had recruited her. That was technically true, given he was her dad and all that, but still.

In this false version of events, Arleigh had been threatened into joining Sherwood. They all knew no one would believe she was completely unwilling, so she admitted that she'd enjoyed it after getting into the whole thing, and had fun with the power it gave. She might have been ordered to be part of the gang at first, but she decided she liked it. At least until everything happened with Sleeptalk and the whole subsequent quarantine. Seeing Whamline revealed as a murderous traitor had reminded her of how much she originally wanted to help people, so she abandoned Sherwood.

Though she wouldn't tell them that her family was actually the entire leadership of Sherwood, Arleigh did claim that her father enjoyed staying in their territory, implying that he had some sort of arrangement with their people to leave him and his family alone, with just enough hints about it involving money for the authorities to believe it. They never would have believed that the Fosters had absolutely nothing to do with Sherwood, but the idea that there was some sort of monetary deal was enough. She claimed that her father was opposed to her leaving Sherwood, even if he knew even less about the people in it than she did. They had a big argument, a fight, before she took off. Now she was alone out in the city and had nowhere else to go.

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It wasn't exactly the most solid story in the world, but it was enough. Especially considering how desperate the Stars were for more help in the midst of the quarantine. It wasn't like they were swimming in options for new recruits. Not that anyone involved actually trusted her, but they would allow her to stay in that motel room, dress up in the new costume, and officially be a part of the Minority. On paper, anyway. She hadn't been allowed to actually go out and do anything.

Until now. Until that call came in. Now they were finally going to send her out, they were actually going to put her on a mission with the rest of the team. Unless this was all just another stupid test after all.

Shoving that thought out of her mind, Arleigh touched her hand on that blank part of the wall, again what looked like a dark coffee stain. The scanner hidden there read her fingerprints, and probably more than that, giving an affirmative beep before a hidden door slid open. This was one of Switchshift's doors. Apparently it had previously connected this room to Ten Towers as part of their witness protection systems, but now it connected to a secure part of the Minority base instead. Once it whooshed open, she stepped through to a blank room, stood there for just a moment, then stepped out through the same doorway. Now she was in a long corridor, with an assortment of other costumed figures standing all around her.

"Oh, hey, team," she greeted the rest of the Minority with as much cheer as she could considering the distinct lack of enthusiasm any of them had ever shown for her presence. "Guess you all needed help sooner than you thought, huh?" It was supposed to be a joke, but for some reason none of them laughed. None of them reacted at all beyond turning to look at each other.

Syndicate (all four of him), That-A-Way, Carousel, Wobble, Raindrop, and Fragile. Not a single one of them looked happy to see her. Not that she could actually see their expressions, of course. She wasn't allowed to know what they looked like under those masks. Not yet, anyway.

"If your moves are a duplicity," Carousel began, "as you see infiltration as simplicity, we will act in kind, and you'll be more than fined. Give us cause to anger and doubt, you'll see a real rout."

One of the Syndicates, the one who was solid in that moment, spoke up. "What she means is, play nice and we'll all get along. We're all still trying to get to… know each other beyond what happened before."

"You know, all those times we fought against you," That-A-Way put in. "We don't know what you're up to, but you step one foot out of line and--"

"Ahem," a new voice interrupted, as one of the Minority support personnel, some guy in a suit and tie, strode up through the corridor. "I think she's well aware that this is a sensitive situation and that she's on thin ice. Why don't we give Clime a chance to prove herself before jumping to threats." To the girl in question, he added, "There's been an incident on the outskirts of town, about halfway to the quarantine line. It seems some homeless people set up a camp out there and now a group of Ninety-Niners are trying to force them to prove they're Detroit natives. But most of them don't have any sort of ID. It could get nasty. We've already got the adult teams deployed to other situations right now, so it's all-hands on deck. You think you're ready for this?"

Oh, so that was why they called her in. This was all happening out in the middle of nowhere so they didn't have to worry about property damage if she fucked up or betrayed them, and the people involved were just homeless nobodies. Not to mention they were going up against the fucking Ninety-Niners, a group Sherwood had no real loyalty to or alliance with. Yeah, this was obviously just a very simple test. Well she was going to pass it, damn it.

"Yeah, I'm good," Arleigh firmly replied, straightening up. "Let's go kick some ass. Rah rah team."

It looked like the others had plenty they wanted to say about that, but the guy in the suit-- Arleigh was pretty sure she was supposed to know his name but it just wasn't coming back to her-- waved them off and gestured back the way she'd come, to the transport room. "We'll be monitoring from here. Be careful, there's lives at stake."

And just like that, they were going back into the transport room. Obviously, this time it wasn't connected to that old motel. Instead, once the door opened, the group found themselves emerging from what looked like some old storage shed in the middle of an otherwise empty field. Wobble was pointing. "The camp's supposed to be about two miles north. Way?"

That-A-Way gave Arleigh a brief look, before exhaling. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, Clime, I guess this is your chance to play nice." She extended her arms, letting the others all reach out to grab on. "Or you can stay here and wait for us to get back, if this is more work than you actually want to do."

"Hey, I've got this." Arleigh reached out last, putting her fingers against the other girl's arm. "We're on the same side now. Trust me, I've got your back."

There was a brief moment of silence before That-A-Way gave a noncommittal grunt. Then she teleported, bringing the rest of the team along for the ride.

She didn't send them right into the middle of the homeless camp, obviously. Actually, Arleigh wasn't sure how she didn't. Did the other girl see a picture of the camp at some point or something so she'd know exactly where to teleport to? Was that part of the full briefing she had obviously missed?

Whatever, the point was, they ended up atop a low ridge slightly overlooking the camp in a weed-filled open area below. There were tents and several old cars parked down there, and a few campfires. Arleigh took a step to the edge, scanning the figures below as she tried to see if there were any Touched down there.

A second later, two heavy thuds made the girl spin around, only to see a couple Ninety-Niner guys with rifles and binoculars falling to the ground. She'd missed them completely, but Wobble and Syndicate had put them down.

"Sorry, Clime," one of the other, intangible Syndicates noted, "we should've mentioned that they'd probably have lookouts up here."

A rush of embarrassment went through the girl. Fuck, of course there would've been lookouts on the ridge, that just made sense. Now she looked like an idiot, a total rookie who didn't have a clue what she was doing. She looked like--

"Let's go," another Syndicate cut through her thoughts, "before they have time to notice and set anything up."

So, the team descended on the camp, spreading out as they went in order to hit the Ninety-Niners from as many sides as possible. Arleigh caught sight of one guy with some sort of shotgun trying to sneak around the side of a tent to take a shot at Wobble. Just as he started to raise his weapon, she caught him in a bubble and filled it with a rush of wind and freezing rain. It was enough to make the guy drop the gun, so she turned off the bubble, let the weapon clatter to the ground, then put the man back in a new bubble and sent him flying off away from it.

All around her, the others were hitting the surprised Ninety-Niners from all sides. There didn't actually seem to be any of the Touched here, which made the whole thing a total walk in the--

"Help, help, please!" The sobbing, desperate words made Arleigh pivot, quickly taking in the sight of some dirty old guy in a coat that looked like it was about fifty years old. He stumbled and fell, a bruise covering most of his face while blood stained his filthy beard. He'd obviously been hit in the mouth hard enough to knock several of his teeth out. "You've gotta help--look out!"

That was all the warning Arleigh got before something smacked into her back. A blinding pain shot through her as she was sent flying sideways to crash headlong into and through one of the tents, leaving her tangled up in the fabric and metal posts.

"Starting to annoy me, old man," a familiar voice snarled, and Arleigh felt a cold rush go down her spine along with the pain from being smacked like that. There was a Touched here after all. Sandon, the leader, one of the most powerful and dangerous Fells in the city. She was already staggeringly strong on her own, and she was made even stronger for every bone from a different person that was touching her skin. Especially if that person had their own enhanced strength.

"You know the rules," Sandon was saying while she reached down to grab the blubbering guy. "You have enhanced strength. Maybe it ain't much, but it's there. So you owe me a bone. Keep pissing me off and I'll make it a rib instead of a finger. Now hold--"

She was interrupted as a bubble appeared around her, before a bright flash of lightning filled that small space. Arleigh put everything she had into that bolt.

Aaand it did nothing. Sandon sighed as the flash cleared, seemingly none the worse for wear. She gave a sharp jab of her elbow into the wall of the bubble, shattering it easily. "Look, kid, you--" Her eyes had moved from Arleigh back to where the man was. Or rather, where he had been, because the girl had already wrapped him in a bubble and flew him out of the way. An annoyed sigh escaped the Ninety-Niners' leader. "You know, it'd be a shame to rip your arms off in your first try at playing hero, but if you insist."

She took a step toward the girl, who was still scrambling her way out of the collapsed tent. As a new bubble appeared between them, Sandon rolled her eyes. "Again? I think I made it very clear that you can't--"

The bubble was already filled with rain, quickly soaking the dirt. Even as Sandon went to backhand the thing out of her way, it collapsed all on its own. But first, Arleigh filled it with the strongest wind she could manage, sending all that new mud up into the air. With the bubble gone, the stream of filthy mud and water went into Sandon's face, briefly blinding her. She staggered backward, spitting and cursing in annoyance and disgust. "--the fuck!?"

Using that time to stumble back to her feet, Arleigh ignored the pain in her side and focused on--

A hand closed around her throat, yanking her off the ground. Sandon didn't need to see to reach her. The woman was still blinking and wiping mud out of her eyes with one hand, while the other lifted Arleigh up with a snarl. "You know, maybe I'll take a leg and an arm, really spread out the fun. Or maybe I'll just break your neck and be done with it. You think any of your new teammates will give a shit?"

Arleigh couldn't even hope to answer with that hand on her throat. But a response came anyway, as a barely visible distortion in the air hit the Fell woman from the side. Immediately, her head dropped a little, a slightly green tint coming to her face as she gave a groan of disgust and staggered. Her grip on Arleigh's throat loosened, leaving the girl to drop limply to the ground.

It was Wobble, hitting her with one of his nausea waves. As soon as she dropped Arleigh, the woman was suddenly hit from the other side by a blast of water from Raindrop, and sent flying upside down into the air. Even as she bellowed in rage, another form, moving so quickly she was a blur of motion, launched herself into the woman. That-A-Way grabbed on before vanishing, teleporting away.

"She'll be okay," Syndicate informed Arleigh while helping her back up. "She knows the drill. Sandon's strong, but it'll take her a second to recover from that nausea. As long as Way lets go and jumps out of there before she collects herself--"

"Which I did," Way cut in as she appeared in another blur of speed. "Because I'm not an idiot." She gave Arleigh a brief glance, raising an eyebrow. "Uh… good job back there."

"Yeah!" Fragile put in, reassembling herself out of a flurry of glass shards. "You totally saved that guy."

Rubbing her neck where she could already feel bruises forming, Arleigh hesitated. What were they doing? She knew they didn't like her, and if she'd let herself be grabbed like that while Micah was around, he would've spent the next five minutes telling her what a dumbass she was. So why were these people, who didn't trust or like her, acting like they were all just one big happy team right now? What was their angle?

In the end, she pushed the confusing thoughts aside before straightening. "Well duh, why wouldn't I?" she asked, her voice a bit strained from the pain in her throat.

"I'm a hero now."

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