Fresh off passing their exams, Justin and Braxton find themselves seated at a celebratory dinner alongside their newest colleague, Liza. The restaurant buzzes with noise and clinking glasses, and the table is already crowded with half-empty plates and drinks. Braxton is grinning ear to ear, clearly convinced this is the best meal he's had in his life.
Liza sits across from them, wings folded neatly behind her chair, still wearing a bubbly smile. She chats easily while breaking down their performances from the exams, casually listing off their strengths and weaknesses like she's reading from a mental report. Justin's speed and adaptability, Braxton's raw power and unshakable resolve, and the obvious gaps in discipline and restraint they both still need to work on.
It's solid advice, but unfortunately, it doesn't land the way she probably hopes.
Braxton is far too busy flagging down a waiter and ordering his third round of food. He's already halfway through a massive plate of meat, barely pausing to breathe as he shovels it in. Every now and then he nods along to something Liza says, but it's clear his focus is entirely on eating as much as humanly possible.
Justin isn't much better. He's leaned back in his chair, checking his brand-new hero ID like it's some sort of holy relic. He admires his own photo, with the name Emerald Atlas printed boldly beneath it. He keeps rambling about how good he looks, how the cape really sells the whole thing, and how much fun he's going to have stopping crime now that it's official.
Liza watches the two of them for a long moment before letting out a tired sigh. "You guys do realize this isn't the finish line, right?" she says, her tone still light but noticeably firmer. That finally gets their attention, if only a little.
She reminds them that while they passed the exams, they're only provisional heroes for now. For the next month, they'll be operating under temporary status, monitored closely by the ISC. It's a system the Commission's been using for about a decade now, ever since a few promising candidates passed their tests and then completely fell apart in the field.
Instead of granting full licenses immediately, the ISC keeps new heroes on a short leash. Their missions are tracked, their decisions scrutinized, and their conduct evaluated in real time. At the end of the month, the Commission decides who gets to stay and who gets quietly cut loose.
Braxton slows his eating just enough to process that, chewing more thoughtfully than before. Justin lowers his phone, the grin on his face dimming slightly as reality settles in. Liza studies both of them, her expression unreadable for just a second.
"Don't get me wrong," she adds, smiling again. "You've got potential. A lot of it. Just don't screw it up."
"Are you kidding, bird girl? We'd never screw up a sweet gig like this," Justin says with his usual confidence, flashing a grin as he leans back in his chair. "My tiger friend and I were born for the hero life."
"The name's Liza, not Bird Girl," she replies without missing a beat. "And I'll be sure to remember those words, Fly Guy." There's a smile on her face, but it's the kind that suggests she fully intends to hold him to that promise.
Braxton laughs through a mouthful of food, clearly enjoying the exchange even if he's not fully paying attention. He's still working his way through the last of the table's offerings, polishing off plates like it's his personal mission. Eventually, even he slows down, satisfied and leaning back with a heavy sigh as the dinner winds to a close.
Goodbyes are exchanged outside in the parking lot under the soft glow of streetlights. Liza stretches her wings and gives them both a casual wave, already shifting back into business mode. "Don't make me regret scouting you two," she says, then takes off into the night sky, vanishing between buildings in a rush of air.
Once she's gone, the mood shifts. The noise and bravado fall away, leaving just the two of them standing there, quiet for once. Braxton lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dude," he says softly, "we actually did it."
Justin doesn't reply right away. He just looks at his friend, really looks at him, and then pulls him into a tight hug. They stand there for a moment, laughing and holding on, letting years of training, expectations, and doubt finally give way to relief.
Their paths split soon after. Justin launches into the air, cape fluttering as he heads toward his home on the far side of the city. Braxton climbs into his car and drives off in the opposite direction, still smiling like he can't quite believe this is real.
Justin lands outside his family's home, a spacious and heavily secured property tucked away from prying eyes. The gates recognize him immediately and slide open, allowing him inside. He walks up to the house slowly, the adrenaline finally fading.
Inside, the place is quiet. He carefully hangs up his gear piece by piece, setting his goggles aside last. With a deep breath, he leans against the wall and lets it all sink in. He's really a hero now, provisional or not. And for the first time, the future feels wide open.
Justin ends up sitting on the hallway floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing in particular while the day replays in his head. The exams, the fights, the contract, and the fact that he's actually licensed now. It all feels unreal in a way that hasn't quite settled yet.
That's when his mother steps out from around the corner.
On the field, Lady Void is one of the most intimidating heroes alive, a woman whose name alone can make villains hesitate. Here at home, though, she's just Lina Kalego. She's dressed comfortably, hair loose, expression soft as she spots her son sitting there and immediately closes the distance.
Before Justin can say a word, she pulls him into a tight hug that nearly knocks the wind out of him. "So?" she asks, voice warm and eager, holding him at arm's length just long enough to search his face. There's a knowing glint in her eye, but she still wants to hear it from him. She always does.
"I passed," Justin says, the words finally feeling real as they leave his mouth.
Lina gasps like she didn't already know, then grabs his wrist and practically drags him toward the kitchen. His father is already there, leaning against the counter with a calm smile that barely hides how proud he is. Franz Kalego looks up the moment they enter, eyes immediately settling on Justin.
The kitchen is a sight. Plates and trays of sweets cover nearly every surface: cookies, cakes, pastries, and things Justin can't even identify at first glance. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. His mom's been stress baking again, just like she always does when something big is on the line.
Justin chuckles and shakes his head as both his parents descend on him with questions. How did the tests go? Did he get hurt? Did he eat? Is he tired? He answers between bites, grabbing whatever sweet is closest while soaking in the attention.
For the rest of the evening, the world outside fades away. There are no tests, no agencies, and no expectations. Just a family celebrating together, and a young hero finally letting himself enjoy the moment.