CHAPTER FOURTEEN: OUT AND ABOUT II

Piggot sat at the head of the meeting room table, arms crossed, expression carved from granite. Behind her, a paused frame was projected: gr

Piggot sat at the head of the meeting room table, arms crossed, expression carved from granite.

Behind her, a paused frame was projected: grainy phone footage taken at an angle, but unmistakable, and posted on a popular video-sharing site. Harry, arm outstretched, unleashing a controlled jet of water into a burning, partially collapsed building. Civilians stood frozen mid-gasp, some dusted in the ash in the air. And lastly, a soot-smeared girl being led out of the building, shaken and alive. His eyes caught the light—green, too green—shining with an almost outworldly light.

Assault sat with one hand on the back of a chair, the other gesturing mid-explanation. Casual. “I tried to hold him back. Really. But the fire was real. People were in danger. He acted.”

“Unilaterally,” Piggot said coldly.

“Effectively,” Armsmaster countered, arms crossed in front of his chest. He wore plain clothes, save for the standard-issue mask. “He acted with restraint and control. No civilian deaths. Injuries healed on site. If anything, it was a successful field test under real-world conditions.”

Piggot turned to him slowly. “We did not authorize a field test.”

“No,” Armsmaster conceded. “But we got one. And the data is… promising.”

Miss Militia sat to one side, reviewing a tablet. “The footage is already circulating. No one’s identified him yet. Most think he’s a rogue or some grab-bag cape. Theories are wild, but still just baseless internet rumors.”

“Which won’t last,” Piggot snapped. “The moment someone gets a clear shot of his face, it’s a question of hours before they’re cross-referencing hospital records, or the shirt he’s wearing, or where he was last seen. A parahuman who didn’t exist until a few months ago doesn’t stay anonymous for long.”

Assault cleared his throat. “To be fair, he tried to keep a low profile.”

“He cast five spells in public.”

“Okay, mostly low profile. But he didn’t grandstand. Didn’t announce himself. That’s restraint, in this town.”

Piggot pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is exactly why we don’t grant operational freedom to unvetted assets. One mistake, one misfire, and we’re looking at headlines. Or casualties.”

“He saved a life, regardless of the risk,” Miss Militia said gently. “That has to count for something.”

Piggot’s glare was brief but flinty. “It’s not the morality of his actions I’m worried about, Miss Militia. It’s the optics. The implications. The what ifs. We still don’t know much about his power. And I’m not interested in finding out because someone caught the wrong end of a mispronounced spell.”

Silence fell for a moment. Then, Armsmaster finally stepped forward and clicked the projector remote, changing the slide: Harry lifting rubble with a word and a wave of his hands.

“We should be focusing on how he did it. His spellcasting operates with consistent verbal patterns, like modular coding in real time. If this can be understood, if it can be replicated or interfaced with known Tinker systems, we may be looking at a viable hybrid model.”

“You want to build around it?” Piggot asked, incredulous. “We don’t even know how it works.”

“Which is why we study it,” Armsmaster said calmly. “He obeyed orders in every administered test. His grasp over wandless magic, as he called it, is improving rapidly. I believe it’s worth pursuing, carefully.”

Miss Militia looked back to the projected image. “Online chatter’s already picking up. He’s being called everything from ‘the Street Wizard’ to ‘Aqua-man.’ He won’t stay hidden for long. People are curious.”

Piggot’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers drummed once on the table.

“Fine,” she said at last. “We keep him off-camera, out of public reach. No press yet. No official statement. No “leaked” hero name. I don’t care if they call him Merlin Jr., he doesn’t leave the building again without direct supervision and full compliance.”

“And him?” Miss Militia asked softly.

Piggot paused.

Then, almost to herself: “We keep him busy. Introduce him to the Wards. Treat him like any other person of interest: containment with privileges.”

Her eyes returned to the screen one last time, at the boy who moved like a soldier, cast spells like a storm, and left questions with every interaction in his wake. 

“And we pray he keeps choosing to help.”