Location: Backstage service route – Voughtland South Pavilion
The distant roar of a crowd rolled through the concrete corridor like surf on steel. A child screamed in delight as Brave Maeve's parade passed outside, and speakers blasted the Homelander Hero Hymn in nauseatingly patriotic fanfare.
But in the cool silence of the passage, Glacius walked alone.
His boots echoed softly. The mist off his armor left subtle trails on the walls, vanishing just as they formed. He moved with purpose, not urgency, just inevitability. Controlled. Focused.
He tapped the comm in his left gauntlet.
A familiar voice responded, all crisp confidence and soft undertones.
"Glacius. Update?"
"The file helped. You were right. She's compliant now."
A pause.
Madelyn replied with a satisfied hum, "Well done. You're getting better at reading people."
"Reading people is the easy part. Getting them to listen, that's the game."
Madelyn, with a smile in her voice, said, "Just don't play it too well. I'd hate to start wondering if I'm being handled."
Glacius countered coolly, "You'd know if I was."
A quiet moment. Then the line closed.
He walked a few more paces. His eyes flicked toward the Voughtland attraction map glowing from a holo-pad near the security station. But instead of continuing toward the Glacius Ice Ring, he stopped and dialed another number.
One he hadn't touched in a long time.
It rang. Once. Twice.
Then picked up.
Popclaw answered playfully, with a bitter edge, "Well damn… Didn't expect you to be calling. Thought you forgot my number."
Her voice was the same, smoky, teasing, catlike in its inflection, but tired underneath. Not angry. Just… hollowed out.
"Didn't forget. Just didn't have a good reason… till now."
There was silence on her end. Then a chuckle.
Popclaw, trying too hard, replied, "Timing's funny. You call just when I'm getting comfy with someone new. You know A-Train, right?"
Glacius countered flatly, unfazed, "Of course. I see him every Tuesday during Seven briefings. Usually late. Usually lying."
She laughed, short, surprised. He didn't bite. That always got to her.
"How's the movie career?"
Another pause. This one hit.
Popclaw relied quietly, "Still… moving. Mostly straight-to-stream. Some modeling gigs. Skin cream ads. You know."
"I do. I watched Terminal Beauty again last month. Still holds up."
She blinked. On her end of the line, she was sitting in her kitchen, unwashed hair in a loose knot, legs up on a stool, old photos scattered across the table.
She looked down at one now, her and Markus, in their Teenage Kix days. He was smiling in the shot, arms folded. She was kissing his cheek. That was the Vought-sponsored golden era. Back when they mattered....when she mattered.
"You still keep in shape? That lift you pulled in Chicago was textbook. 645 pounds. Clean form."
Popclaw blinked, startled, "You… remember that?"
"I remember all of it. Including that two-step warmup you used to do when you thought no one was watching."
Her heart fluttered. Something vulnerable cracked open under the mask.
Popclaw's voice softened, "Why are you calling me, Markus?"
Glacius replied bluntly, "Because I need you. Not Vought. Not PR. Me."
Another long beat. Her breath caught.
Glacius' tone became serious, "Voughtland's being targeted. Radiant Dawn. They're planning a multi-prong attack. I've got a team covering the main targets, but there's going to be noise. Fodder. Escalations."
"So… why me?"
"Because you were always better than what came after. You trained harder than most of the Team back then. You cared. And because I know you haven't felt useful in a long time."
That hit like a slap laced with a kiss. She stood now, pacing, her hand still holding the photo.
Popclaw replied in a quiet, hesitant tone, "You think I still got it?"
Glacius spoke warmly but commanding, "I know you do. You've got two hours. Get to Voughtland. Show up. Make me regret not calling you sooner."
She was already pulling open a drawer, revealing a tangle of old supe gear, black and red, claw gloves half-wrapped in elastic bands. She smiled.
Then… froze.
"This isn't Vought-approved, is it?"
"They don't need to know. This is between us. And I have ways of smoothing it over."
He paused, just long enough for weight.
Glacius then added gently, "You've always been more than just claws and stunts, Charlotte. You were the heart of that team. And you still matter. You matter to me."
Her voice caught again. She sat down on the bed, clutching the gear.
Popclaw spoke softly with a tinge of heartache, "I miss you."
A beat.
"I know, kitty."
She closed her eyes, smiling, lips trembling.
"See you soon."
The line went dead.
Popclaw's Apartment – A Few minutes after the call
Her hands worked fast now. She zipped up her old gear — snug but fitting. Her hair was freshly styled, claws extended, and tested. The mirror in her room showed someone she hadn't seen in years.
Popclaw.
Not Charlotte the has-been. Not A-Train's secret sidepiece. Not a washed-up body in a tabloid.
Just her. Back from the dead....well, less dead, more obscurity.
She opened the door to her apartment, stepped into the hallway, and didn't look back.