Dennis
Saturdays were Dennis' favorite days of the week. No school from the very start of the day, and the knowledge that you won't have to go there the next day either.
Sure, there were patrols sometimes, but Dennis would take a walk down the Boardwalk or smack around a few gangsters over school any day.
Normally, he'd roll into HQ closer to noon, after a leisurely shower and a mountain of cereal.
Today, he woke up to the news that the "Arms-family" had taken down the Hookwolf Brigade — plus Alabaster — right in the middle of Downtown.
Reading between the lines — and assuming Hookwolf could even read street signs — it wasn't hard to figure out what happened.
Officially, the PRT controlled all of Brockton Bay. A laughable claim if you lived here. Hell, even from outside, it was eyebrow-raising. Everyone knew the truth: every major city had gang-run zones.
Not that anyone admitted it. The term "gang territory" was supposed to mean places where villains loitered and sold drugs until a hero arrived and kicked them out. But in Brockton Bay? There were areas you just didn't patrol unless you were actively looking for a fight.
To be fair, the territory situation mostly applied to the gangs and independents. A reported hate crime in Empire turf? You go. Uber and Leet beating prostitutes in the Docks? You go. ABB and Empire throwing hands in the street? PRT shows up, even if it's on Kaiser's literal doorstep.
But for heroes? The only places they "controlled" were the parts where villains didn't bother trying to set up shop anymore. Tourist spots. The occasional school zone. A few blocks of downtown, for appearances.
Technically, heroes could go anywhere. Legally, morally, tactically—sure. No villain owned a street sign. But practically? That's where it got complicated.
Because there's a difference between "can" and "do."
Patrolling Empire turf too often meant noticing things. Like drug shipments. Like houses with just enough swastikas to warrant a second look. Like girls being funneled into suspicious establishments. And once you noticed something, you were supposed to act.
And when you acted, you forced the gang to respond. Lose resources, lose face or push back.
They almost always pushed back.
Which is why most patrols stuck to safer neighborhoods—places the gangs hadn't pushed into yet or would be too embarrassing for the city to lose. Places where the cameras worked and the response time was quick.
Territory wasn't just about presence. It was about confidence. About knowing you could store gear, run recruitment, smuggle weapons, or build your next project without worrying about being stomped that night. Heroes didn't avoid turf because they weren't allowed. They avoided it because the cost of pushing in was too high.
The real gang turf was built around infrastructure—tinker workshops, weapons depots, smuggling routes, labs. The smart gangs didn't mark these locations with neon signs. They claimed big enough areas that even if the PRT suspected something, narrowing it down became cost-prohibitive. And the moment patrols started sniffing around regularly, they'd hit resistance.
Dennis liked to think he figured some of that out himself. In truth, he picked it up from Tanya's casual lectures.
Which raised a question: what the hell were Hookwolf and his pals doing miles outside their stomping ground?
He and the rest of the Wards—minus Shadow Stalker, who was off being a bitch somewhere—rushed to HQ to find out.
"That was almost certainly a targeted attack," Tanya said calmly. "Whether they meant to hit Armsmaster specifically, I can't say. Although I am not sure they expected Shirou and I to be there with him, given their surprise and how woefully unprepared they were."
She was... chill. Really chill. Dennis wouldn't have guessed she'd been duking it out with the Empire's most violent if he didn't already know.
Well, he knew the Danvers duo were weird kids from basically day one. Tanya brushing off a cape brawl was par for the course.
Dennis shot a glance at Dean to make sure that she wasn't simply faking her cool. The two of them had a system: Dean would defuse tension, and Dennis would break it with humor before it exploded. He had a knack for that—perfect comedic timing. You didn't even need a good joke. Just something to pop the bubble.
Even Sophia, cold-hearted bitch that she was, would back off if he clowned hard enough.
HQ was one big circuit. Dean held back the voltage. Dennis played lightning rod.
But today, Dean wasn't watching Tanya. He kept throwing concerned glances at Shirou, who was busying himself in the kitchen.
He seemed to be in a sour mood, but in all honesty, he always looked like that.
Dennis figured him for an asshole at first and was worried that he will have to juggle a second Sophia. Nothing like that though. Yeah, he kinda brushed them off and... the best word Dennis could think of was 'ridiculed'. Shirou never really got nasty, just some back handed comments, lots of sarcasm and PG-13 insults.
There definitely was some animosity there, but it didn't feel... personal? It was difficult to articulate, but he sounded less like a teammate and more like a disapproving, bitter mom.
Even weirder, and more pointed – he called them all clowns while wearing apron and cooking them meals. Tanya, meanwhile, sat at the table with a newspaper, lecturing them on crime theory, economics, or geopolitics between sips of coffee with all the casual authority of a dad who took the belt off the dinner table years ago but still expected everyone to sit straight and listen.
It was all so bizarre, that even Sophia somehow behaved around them and toned down her usual vitriol.
Dennis just shrugged it off. It wasn't a secret that Thinker powers made people act weirdly. Case in point, Gallant taking him aside one day and insisting that the ever-increasing volumes – and price ranges – of chocolate and coffee were for Tanya only. When Dennis asked to elaborate, Dean refused and just insisted: only take it if she offers. And if she offers, always say yes.
Well, it wasn't the first time Dean saw 'colors' and run away with an idea. He once told Dennis, in all seriousness, that Amy liked him and was jealous of her sister. Dennis tried not to roll his eyes into another dimension.
Dean was a good friend. But sometimes, Dennis just took the snacks and ignored the psychic spirals.
Messing with the kitchen, however, was dangerous.
The omelet was only a little burned, and Shirou could literally create a new frying pan from thin air. The waving of conjured cleavers and a good attempt at destroying his self-esteem was entirely unnecessary. That, and the threat of making him eat it in the cafeteria.
They were eating like kings lately, and Dennis wasn't about to give that up.
"You sure you're okay, Tanya?" Missy asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" the adorable gremlin looked genuinely confused. "It was Shirou who got hurt covering our fall."
Dennis called toward the kitchen. "You good, little man?"
Shirou didn't answer. Just kept scowling at his phone.
"He is perfectly fine," his sister answered for him, "I am able to spend much more time on patching him up than patients at the hospital. He and Armsmaster should be fine as long as they don't strain the damaged bone too much for the next few days. Though it would be good if Armsmaster showed up for another round of healing," she frowned.
Yeaaaaahhh, it didn't escape Dennis that the siblings apparently rarely saw their dad. Or referred to him as anything other than Armsmaster for that matter.
Confusingly, according to Dean, Tanya felt very hopeful and positive about Tin Man. And Shirou just kinda didn't react.
There was a silent understanding between the Wards not to pry into home life unless offered. Even Sophia abided by that most of the time, the bitch that she was. Dennis certainly didn't share much. Missy's problems met quiet support and understanding but no one ever brought up her parents in a conversation, to avoid upsetting her. They couldn't really do anything, so at least they gave her a safe space.
So even if everyone were curious... no one brought it up.
"Why don't you call him dad?" he asked, eyes still on Shirou.
Dennis could only stare in disbelief.
Tanya blinked, caught off guard. Then she composed herself and cleared her throat.
"When on duty, protocol dictates we address him as Armsmaster. And given his... schedule," she said, with a touch of disdain, "he's always on duty. Discipline and professionalism are vital. We are Wards. He is a commanding officer. It would be improper to break formality in the field, so it's better to just get used to a proper form of address."
She sipped her coffee.
On one hand, that made sense. Definitely something Tin Man himself would approve of. On the other, it was still weird. But Tanya didn't seem bothered, and Shirou wasn't disagreeing.
"By the way, what's with the costume change?" asked Carlos.
He squinted at the armor on the news photo still open on his phone. "Also… have the abs always been that defined?"
That broke the dam.
"Oh my god, thank you," Dennis blurted. "Finally. I thought I was losing it. That chestpiece looks like he stole Legend's pecks and Narwal's abs, then scaled them down."
"I—I hadn't noticed," Missy said quickly. Too quickly.
Dennis turned to look at her. Slowly. "You hadn't noticed."
"No! Why would I notice?"
"Because it's a full six-pack," Dennis said. "In steel. That's why."
Missy folded her arms and stared at the wall like it owed her money.
Tanya, was pretending very hard not to be part of the conversation.
Shirou didn't even look up from his phone.
Before anyone could press further, the door opened.
Armsmaster walked in.
A second later, a familiar halberd appeared behind Shirou and launched itself straight at the Protectorate leader.
Armsmaster caught it without blinking. Then turned and walked out again without so much as 'How do you do?'.
Tanya pinched the bridge of her nose.
Chris stared with open mouth. "Since when can you copy tinkertech?"
Shirou finally put down his phone. "Since the beginning, apparently."
"Then why not copy my gear when I asked?" Chris sounded hurt.
The redhead paused at the Tinker's tone and seemingly decided Chris deserved a proper answer.
"Because your tech isn't conceptually defined," seeing no understanding on Chris' face, he elaborated, "It's like it isn't all there. There's a shape it's meant to complete, but if you don't know what you are making, then neither do I," Shirou paused for a moment, "it's like there are two blacksmiths hammering onto the same weapon – one tries to make a sword and the other wants a pickaxe. The result is neither. And your gun is just incomprehensible to me – or at least its power source."
He shrugged.
"Granted I didn't try very hard the first time. But the way it works, when I saw the halberd, it was stored automatically and so my ability to do it at all was discovered."
Chris blinked. "Can I have Armsmaster's halberd?"
Shirou looked towards the door for a moment and then gave him a wicked grin. "Sure. Have two. Just don't take them apart. They vanish," two identical tinkertech halberds appeared on the kitchen table. Chris jumped from his seat and rushed to grab them.
Aegis looked alarmed. "Wait, can you just give away Armsmaster's weapon? I mean…" Carlos hesitated.
Dennis gave him a subtle elbow to the side and nodded toward Chris, who looked better than he had in weeks.
Carlos closed his mouth.
"I'll help you go through the regulations, Carlos," Tanya said smoothly, giving her brother a calculating glance. "I'm reasonably sure Kid Win will be fine analyzing them in his lab. Deployment is another story, but we'll see."
Heh. Just like that, one Danvers siblings managed to cheer Chris up — something he and Dean hadn't pulled off since the budget cuts.
Chris was practically glowing now, cradling the halberd like it might vanish if he blinked. Carlos still looked like he wanted to file a report and a grievance and maybe a restraining order, but he kept quiet.
Tanya stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a faint, unreadable expression — something between approval and planning.
Shirou, meanwhile, started cleaning up the coffee machine. Because of course he had.
Dennis leaned back in his chair, watching the two of them out of the corner of his eye.
Tanya lectured like someone's demanding dad who thought emotional vulnerability was a security risk. Shirou cooked, cleaned, snarked, and waved a knife at people like a bitter single mom running on fumes and spite.
It would be funny, if it weren't so weird.
No — it was still funny. Just also weird.
And sometimes, when they sat at the Wards' kitchen table, Tanya reading the news and Shirou glaring at a saucepan, Dennis couldn't help but feel like he was the one being babysat.
He scratched the back of his neck and sighed.
"Totally normal teammates," he muttered under his breath. "Nothing to unpack here at all."
A/N
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