It's hard not to notice a difference when she looks around the room.
Sarah had been right, from a certain perspective. This particular group of people couldn't afford to stagnate, not in the high-paced world of capes. So they'd sought out more members, both parahuman and not, to round out their numbers.
At one table, Newter and Gregor are playing some kind of card game. Newter had tried to teach her, but it hadn't gone so well. She can hardly remember the rules now, anyways. Spitfire is watching, hovering a comfortable distance away. It's impossible to tell who's winning; Newter's always chuckling, playing cards with exaggerated gestures, while Gregor has an eternally perfect poker face. Two more cards come down: Gregor sighs, Newter jumps out of his seat, cheering.
Labyrinth is in her room, resting. She can feel the girl in the back of her mind - no, not exactly Labyrinth herself, but the world she's imagining. Like a distant headache, not painful, but noticeable, slowly growing over the past weeks. She's seen the worlds that the girl sees through the lens of their shared dimension. Now, she wonders idly if it might be possible to visit them in person.
Their most recent job brought them more than just money. The 'Azn Bad Boys' - a comical name for a terrifying local gang - had accrued a lot of national attention, especially during the past month. Playing a major part in taking them out had earned them a considerable increase in reputation; so much so that Sarah had been contacted by their newest recruit.
An all around success, even if the pay from the local Protectorate hadn't been particularly stellar. "The government generally doesn't want to blow the budget on mercenaries. Always need to adjust rates a little, but it's an important relationship to keep."
Even a week later, there is an air of celebration.
She's sitting at a table with Shamrock, their new recruit, and Sarah. A middle-aged woman sits to Sarah's left: a new, unpowered member of the... organization? Or were they still a 'crew'?
That's a question for Sarah, perhaps. As the group expanded, it became more difficult to keep track of things. She'd made an effort recently, in particular over the past two days, to cement things in her mind. It does seem easier to remember events, now.
All of a sudden, Sarah gets up from the table, almost knocking over her glass in the process. A huddle of sorts forms: Sarah and Gregor talking to each other, almost frantic; Newter hovering close by, looking concerned; Spitfire and Shamrock slightly farther back, watching. They're only a few feet away, but she can't hear what they're saying, as any sound is drowned out by a painfully loud alarm blaring in the background.
She covers her ears with her hands. Sarah is waving at her; she walks up.
They're saying things, talking animatedly. She tries to listen.
"...leave the city...dangerous..."
"...Palanquin...here...to evacuate?"
"If...hopeless anyways...anything left..."
"...our reputation? Can...disappear for..."
It takes a moment for her to realize her hands are still over her ears.
"Do you want to participate?"
"What's going on?"
Sarah shakes her head, sighs. "There's an Endbringer coming."
She recognizes the word, if only barely. From a television show, perhaps, back when... "Okay."
"We do have a sizeable team, but - none of us are particularly useful against him. We don't have any real damage, it would just... well, that kind of fight wouldn't go well for us."
"Okay."
"You're the only one that could survive against him."
That reminder: I can't die.
Even though she can think back - a month, now, maybe more, she doesn't really remember that. Just... chasms of nothing, spotting her memory, bookending real-life experiences.
Sarah touches her shoulder. A surge of confidence.
"What would I do?"
"You can get in range of it safely. They probably have single-use weapons, maybe bombs, that you could get in close with and detonate. Maybe leftovers from that bomb tinker - Bakuda." Everyone within earshot grimaces. "I'm thinking that they might be able to help you make use of some of her more exotic creations, assuming they haven't been disposed of yet. You can get close to him, bring some with you, maybe. It's at least worth a shot."
Discussion quiets, if only a little.
"We won't force you, though."
Options, choices.
Endbringer. There's a certain danger to the word, draped around it like a wreath. Dripping, cascading.
If she reaches deep, she can remember - a television blaring, a small apartment. She imagines a voice, narrating: "Disaster has struck at Earth Bet's version of Australia, sources say. Allegedly, one of Bet's 'endbringers' - gargantuan, nearly invincible monsters - has laid waste to Canberra."
She gasps, suddenly, memory interrupted by a hand grasping her shoulder.
"Are you all right?" Gregor, standing over her. "You were - ah, shaking."
If - if she could reach further, just a little bit, would she be able to remember?
"I'll do it. I'll try."
"You sure?" Newter. "Those f-uh, things, they're really scary."
Sarah nods. "It's important you understand what this means. If you go out there to fight - well, do anything, really - near one of those monsters... anything can happen."
"No, it's... what you said, right?"
Sarah tilts her head, just a little.
"I can't die."