3.17 – Reaching Second Base

Aurora wasn’t sure what to expect when Vanguard pulled her aside before going home. He made a point to speak with her personally and privately.

He led her into a quiet conference room within the ruined Kitchen main building. Some places in the west wing were still intact. This was a place away from prying eyes. As the door sealed behind them, he turned to her with an easy, reassuring smile. He stood well over a head taller than her, but rather than his massive frame giving off a feeling of intimidation to others, he turned those traits into projecting protection and reliability. The smile that he offered her was the kind that made it impossible to forget that he had been a hero for many decades.

“I wanted to say a few things privately to you before you return home. You did well, Aurora.” His deep voice carried the weight of authority, but there was something warm beneath it. “Although the situation wasn’t ideal, you handled yourself with strength and composure. You reminded the Sentinels why we keep an eye on promising talent.”

Aurora shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. She’d been through hell, physically and emotionally. The last thing she wanted was to be praised when Apex was dead, the Kitchen was in ruins, and the Sentinels had been forced to call in A-list reinforcements to clean up the mess.

“I just did what I thought was right,” she said finally.

Vanguard chuckled, nodding as if he had expected that answer. “That’s exactly what makes you worth investing in. I wanted to talk to you about something important—your future.”

Aurora straightened slightly, a bit worried, despite the fact that he’d just praised her. Both worried and anticipatory of what he had to say. She leaned forward. “Something good, I hope?”

Vanguard laughed merrily. “Of course. I suspect that so far, like many young heroes, you’ve most likely been operating out of your home. Don’t worry about my speculations about your life, out of respect for your privacy we’ve not done any looking into where that might be,” Vanguard continued. “That’s fine for now, but it’s not sustainable. This is a speech that we always end up giving a fledgling hero at some point. It’s in our interest to protect and look after every member in the Society of Sentinels, as you most likely know.”

Aurora wondered where Vanguard was going with this.

Every hero needs a dedicated place or two where they can work, investigate, and most importantly, rest. Now and then there are those who think they can break the mold, but even if t’s not used too often, having such a space available inevitably comes in handy.”

Aurora thought about that. She’d managed to make it work so far, slipping in and out of her house while juggling her school life and responsibilities, but she knew he was right. If she was serious about being a hero long-term, she needed something better.

“I have a place in mind, in fact,” Vanguard said, seeing the signs of agreement from the young hero. “It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s secure. A safe house for when you need to lay low or would like to focus. Even used for r&r. If you decide later that you want to turn it into something more—a base, a clubhouse for allies—you’ll have that option.”

“A clubhouse?” Aurora smiled eagerly, crossing her arms and hopping up and down. “Sounds fancy!”

Vanguard flushed for a moment, chuckling as he fixed his eyes on hers. “We’ll start with a functional crash pad first, as Bombshell and Redline Racer would put it. The rest is up to you.”

She nodded. “Alright. I’ll take the starter pack and build it out as needed.”

He seemed pleased with her answer. “Starter pack?” Vanguard looked befuddled for a moment, but got the general gist. “Good choice. I also wanted to make you aware of something else. There’s an old base in San Isidro that belonged to El Águila that has been abandoned since he parted ways with the city on lamentable terms. He hasn’t used it in years, but in an emergency, it could be yet another useful fallback point.”

“El Águila? Isn’t he kind of… retired?”

“More or less,” Vanguard admitted with a barely detectable grimace. “But his base is still intact, and having more options is never a bad thing. It was built to suit his needs but it may serve as inspiration for things you might want yourself. You may request whatever provisions you require using the computer, should you find it too spartan for your tastes and we will have whatever it is, within reason, delivered discreetly. The same goes for the first base that was made specifically with your needs in mind.” He raised a finger with a smile.

Aurora filed that information away, then extended her hand. Vanguard shook it firmly, his grip strong but not overpowering.

“If you ever need anything,” he said, “you have a direct line to us now. Don’t hesitate to call.”

A few days later, Aurora finally got a look at her new crash pad! To the best of her knowledge, the structure hadn’t been there the day before, she’d been told via the communicator that everything was taken care of already with the address included.

Located in the industrial sector on the east side of San Isidro, it was an old boathouse, seemingly abandoned, blending in perfectly with the surrounding structures. From the outside, there was nothing remarkable about it—just another relic of the past, rusted metal siding and worn wooden beams.

Inside, however, was a different story.

The place had been reinforced with plenty of future-tech looking metal. A hidden entrance that only she could access via her communicator led to a modest but functional space. There was a bed for resting, already made with exacting care, a small workspace with a computer setup, and multiple exit points—one leading into the bay, another up through the roof, and a hidden door that let her slip out the back undetected.

It wasn’t luxurious, but it was exactly what she needed.

“Not bad,” she murmured, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the desk.

Vanguard had outdone himself. Or maybe this was standard, in which case that was still impressive. Either way she’d expected to really like her new hideout.

What she hadn’t anticipated, though, was how much attention she was now getting.

The moment Vanguard’s press conference aired, interest in Aurora, the Guardian Angel of San Isidro, had skyrocketed. The public had always been curious about her, but now? Now, she was a hot topic.

Journalists staged events, TV personalities bought airtime, and newspapers placed ads, all trying to get her to appear for an interview.

She ignored most of them. The idea of being on camera purely for the sake of publicity made her stomach twist, and she wasn’t exactly eager to open herself up to public scrutiny.

Strangely enough, her silence only made her more mysterious.

With what little remained of her free time, Aurora threw herself into refining her abilities, pushing them into uncharted territory. Her test with Dragonmage still left a sour taste—after all, he had thrown her into a fight with Gravitas that nearly got her killed. But, frustrating as he was, he had also given her valuable insights into energy manipulation, albeit from a magical perspective.

It turned out that magic and what she did weren’t so different after all. Black Angel had supposedly been a sorceress, so maybe that connection wasn’t as far-fetched as she’d initially thought. While Dragonmage’s explanations hadn’t been entirely spot-on for how her abilities worked, they had pointed her toward more advanced applications.

If she wanted to improve, she couldn’t just rely on theory anyway. She needed to experiment—really push herself—to see what she was capable of.

Her first goal: construct multitasking.

She started small, conjuring basic geometric constructs—floating spheres, simple barriers, and basic shapes. Maintaining a single object was effortless, but the moment she tried to create multiple, things started to fall apart. The second construct would flicker, the third would collapse entirely. It felt like juggling, but instead of balls, she was juggling pure energy.

Dragonmage had described it as “opening the mind,” expanding her focus rather than concentrating on just one thing at a time. She took a deep breath and tried again. Two constructs. A success, albeit shaky. Three. The third wobbled dangerously before blinking out.

By the tenth attempt, she could maintain three for a decent stretch of time before losing control.

The problem wasn’t power—she had that in spades. It was coordination. It was like trying to move three different limbs in conflicting directions. She had never trained her mind to handle so many separate constructs at once.

She needed a different approach.

Pulling out a few books on machinery she had borrowed from the library, she tried to understand how complex systems functioned—how moving parts could work in harmony. Unfortunately, the dense text and dry explanations made her eyes glaze over, and she barely absorbed anything useful. It wasn’t her field, and every page felt like a slow descent into boredom-induced unconsciousness.

Still, it sparked an idea.

Instead of making machines, maybe she should focus on motion. Rather than overcomplicating things with interlocking gears and mechanics she barely understood, she could practice movement.

She switched tactics, creating simple constructs—a floating disc, a spear, a thin ring of light. Instead of trying to shape intricate details, she focused on manipulating them. She sent the disc spinning in place, nudging the spear into an arcing path, making the ring orbit her wrist. At first, the motion was clunky and uneven. The moment she tried to move two at once, one would inevitably slip out of her control and shatter.

It took hours before she started getting a feel for it. By the time the sun had dipped lower in the sky, she could maintain four constructs in motion without losing focus. Not perfect, but progress. This training went on over the course of the next eleven days, converting the rest of her time away from school for her faux-field trip at the Kitchen to personal practice time.

Though she had made a great amount of progress with her imagination training, she had one more thing to test.

She pulled out her phone and dialed the Society of Sentinels' members support line. After a few moments, a smooth, mechanical voice greeted her.

"This is Bulwark. You have reached the Society of Sentinels' communication hub. State your request."

Aurora exhaled. "Hey, Bulwark, it’s Aurora. I need to speak with Dragonmage."

There was a brief pause before the robotic Sentinels member responded. "Your identity has been confirmed. However, your official membership card is still under inspection and will be returned to you in a few weeks. Until then, your access remains limited."

Aurora rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I figured. You guys are really dragging your feet on this. Is there some kind of appeal process, or are you just stalling?"

"Sentinel ID cards are exceedingly complicated technology that take a long time to manufacture, as such the organization is reluctant to replace yours when it can simply be returned in due time. That being said, the AI known as 'Hostess' continues to undergo therapy. For security reasons, she will remain isolated within your membership ID card for the time being. Her reintegration into the Society’s systems is not yet authorized."

Aurora blinked at that. "Wait, the Hostess’s therapy is actually going well?"

"All reports indicate steady progress. She is compliant, stable, and engaging positively with her assigned therapists. It remains just as true for AI that it is only time that will tell, however."

Aurora smiled. "That’s good to hear. Anyway, back to what I called for—can you patch me through to Dragonmage?"

"Connecting you now."

There was a soft beep as the call transferred. After a few rings, Dragonmage’s voice came through the other end.

"Aurora? Do you need something? Are you seeking magical assistance?"

"Yeah, no emergency—just been training," she said, exhaling as she flexed her fingers. "I wanted to pick your brain about something. When you healed me back at the Kitchen, it felt... different. More than just a passive thing happening to me—I could actually sense it. I was wondering if I could learn how to do it better than I do now."

"Better?" Dragonmage sounded intrigued. "Does your method no longer function?"

"It does—I think," Aurora admitted. "I’ve not had a good chance to work on any injuries lately. My way of healing people relies on creating a construct and pressing it into their wounds. If I have my hands full—like holding up a collapsing building or shielding civilians—I wouldn't be able to spare the focus to heal someone at the same time. That could be a problem in a crisis."

"I see," Dragonmage mused. "It is admirable to seek self-improvement. Your issue is that you have defined your healing too rigidly. You have locked yourself into a single method of execution. Just as you’ve expanded your ability to create machinery, move your constructs, and generate multiple at once, you need to open your mind to other possibilities. You must believe you can heal in another way before you will be able to do so."

Aurora nodded, processing that. "I get it. Too bad I don’t have anyone to practice on right now."

"Wound yourself."

"What?" Aurora blinked. "Did you just tell me to—"

"It is the easiest and most ethical way to obtain a subject for testing, is it not?"

Aurora hesitated, then let out a chuckle. "I mean, you think of self-harm as ethical? I could just walk into a hospital and heal some people, brighten their day a little. But I guess a little self-inflicted scratch might be—"

"More instructive," Dragonmage finished for her. "And as you say, I’m not advocating more than a nick that you could already heal. Regardless, technique is more important than simply having a wound to work on." His tone was patient but firm. "Do not merely think of it as pushing light into a wound. Healing is not just about restoring tissue—it is about balance. Let your energy feel what is wrong before you attempt to fix it. Every thing invariably knows its place in the cosmic order, it knows itself and how it should be better than you possibly could. Let it and your energy guide you."

Aurora took those words to heart.

As her ‘time away’ wound down to ‘having just come back’ there was one person she’d particularly missed—Sarah.

Her parents had finally relented, allowing her to visit, and the moment they were alone, Sarah practically threw herself at Leona, arms wrapping tightly around her.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Leona held her close. “I missed you too.”

Their time together was precious, stolen moments between Sarah’s restricted home life and Leona’s responsibilities.

Sarah wanted to be closer—physically and emotionally. She wasn’t subtle about it. Cuddling turned into lingering touches, soft kisses, and heated looks.

Leona wanted it too. God, did she want it.

But Quinn’s warning echoed in her head.

Sarah was still recovering. She wasn’t in full control of herself with the Xevolve in her system. No matter how much Leona wanted to give in, it wouldn’t be right.

She kept her distance, pulling back when things got too intense.

It was so frustrating. But she had an outlet.

Every couple of weekends, she escaped to Canada, to the arms of the woman who understood her, Mistral, someone that she didn’t feel that she had to hold back with.

They often raced together through the skies, played games of aerial tag that left them breathless, then tumbled into each other’s embrace, their laughter dissolving into something far more intimate. Although Aurora wanted to team up with Mistral, nothing ever happened when she visited, so they spent the time cuddling and having fun like it was an extended honeymoon. The long distance between them truly did make it feel more special whenever they met.

Mistral always teased her afterward, running her fingers along Aurora’s bare skin.

“You’re so repressed,” she murmured, smirking against her neck.

Aurora rolled her eyes. “You’re insatiable.”

“You love it.”

She did!

On their last date before summer ended, Mistral handed her a small, shimmering stone.

“Set this stone somewhere safe,” she said. “Then I can visit you whenever you want.”

Aurora blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Mistral smirked. “Seriously. It will open a portal on demand. I have imbued it with my energies and in a sense you will be borrowing my power whenever you invoke it. The downside is that the portal only takes you back and forth here and there.”

Aurora clutched the stone tightly.

She knew exactly where to put it.

Back at her boathouse, she found a small closet tucked away in the back of the room with the bed. It was private, secure, and out of the way. The perfect spot, really. She placed the stone inside and, following Mistral’s instructions. Chanting a slightly complicated Native American cantrip, she attuned it to her sanctum’s coordinates which was the missing part of the spell, IE programming the destination.

Then she added Mistral to the private codes that Vanguard had given her so that whenever it detected her presence in her boathouse, the security would not be triggered.

The thought of Mistral appearing here, in her own space, right here in San Isidro, sent a thrill down her spine.

Their next date was going to be very interesting, and far more convenient, although she would miss the flight over the mountains and plains between Canada and California.

As she sat back, already mentally planning some upgrades—maybe ordering a little more furniture, although she tended to ignore El Aguilla’s base in the West End that Gravitas wrecked, ironically not too far from the site where Jeff nearly killed his ex-beau, Robbie. That neatly explained why Redline Racer had managed to get there in time. It was possible that she was in San Isidro on official business and heard the commotion. In terms of improving her crash pad, she was thinking mostly in terms of some lighting for ambiance or an entertainment center. Thinking about it, she smiled eagerly.

This was just the beginning of her heroic career, although she had already come so far.