Chapter 4: Three Topping Hero Pizza, Side Ranch

Jackson was the first there. Hair and beard: buzzed and shaved. Shirt, pants, shoes: neat and crisp. Bags, gear, supplies: stacked and ready. 8 AM was 8 AM—no more, no less.

He peered up at the two opposing pillars—sharp, jagged metal obelisks that seemed to scratch the clouds—leading out to the city proper. Mountains of cold, hard steel, painted a disarming yellow, mirroring The Citadel's own supporting beams. Only, they looked like twigs next to The Citadel's trunk.

"It's The Citadel's Southern Pass, one of three left." Quinn kneeled next to Jackson. His focus was on a plaque fixed into the concrete base. His hand touched over the engraved names of his comrades, heroes who fought in the first battle. "The western one's gone," he groaned as he stood. "It was blown away when Red Dragon Lord fought Kaiser Chimera."

A limousine parked further back. Quinn nudged Jackson's arm.

"I read that report. Man, would I have killed to be there." Jackson picked up his bags, effortlessly carrying them on his shoulders like sacks of rice. "Red Dragon Lord: The Citadel's 5th rank. Kaiser Chimera: The Monstrosity. Duked it out before the dragon lady blew it up and saved the western front."

"Yep." Quinn didn't glance at Jackson, a stone-cold expression on his face and tone. "That's what they tell you."

Closing in on the limousine, on the front, a bold emblem was emblazoned. It was an ivory colored shield: a wolf with ghostly white eyes stared directly at them, framed by two crossing stalks of purple petaled flowers. Out stepped two human individuals, accompanied by others: their staff, who showed animal features to varying degrees.

"Wait, that's—"

"Arsène." Quinn and the man shook hands. "Good to see you, brother."

"Likewise, Commandant. Or rather, Quinn." The two pulled away.

Jackson watched the two—frozen in place, almost slack jawed—before turning at the tap on his back.

"If you're gonna load my bags into the bus, can you be gentle?" Geneviève gestured towards the mountain of luggage currently being stacked neatly beside the limousine. "Especially the box. That one's very delicate."

"Listen, princess—"

POP

"Oh, sweet Mother!" A tall woman appeared out of nowhere alongside Gregory, gasping for breath as she fell to her knees.

"I told you: I need a clear image." Gregory looked unbothered at a photo of the Southern Pass. "This one's got a coffee stain on it."

Jackson snapped towards the sound and just about dropped his bags when he caught sight of the woman. "Hold up, that's—"

"Sarah, ma chérie!" Arsène hugged the woman.

"Nice to see you, Sarah—!" Quinn grunted as he was embraced.

"Arsène! Quinn!" Sarah responded in kind. She pulled the both of them into a tight hug, lifting them like they were feathers. "Have you two gotten lighter?"

Gregory approached Jackson and Geneviève, a singular bag hanging from his shoulder. "What's up? Gregory Higgs. Call me Greg." He waved casually. "You two interning at the ranch too?"

Jackson, snapping from his daze, set his bags down. They thumped on the concrete, metal clinking from inside. "Jackson Leburr Jr. Son of Steel Wall, Jackson Leburr Sr." He reached a hand to Gregory, who just shook it loosely.

Then both turned to Geneviève.

"Et moi." Geneviève smirked. "I am ✦✧✦Geneviève d'Ivoire✧✦✧, the Beast Tamer." She flipped her perfectly curled, blonde hair. "Daughter of ✦✧✦Arsène d'Ivoire✧✦✧: the renowned Beast Hero, Ysengrin."

This then prompted her staff to start clapping, clearly having rehearsed it along with her. "Magnifique!", "Allez!", "Beautiful, Lady Geneviève!", "Woof!", were among the praises uttered by them.

"Oh, please. Keep going. Do applaud more."

Gregory's brow furrowed. He glanced at Jackson, who hung his head down, and was letting out a deep, deep, deep exhale. He then glanced at Geneviève, who was still basking in the praise and glory her staff showered her with.

"Are... we allowed to have hero personas as interns?" He turned his head back to the exasperated giant.

"No."

The applauding finally ceased once the bus rolled in, coming to a stop with a long squeeeak and a deafening HISS. It was large enough to fit a whole crew and the body looked to be doubly reinforced. Yet still, a number of sizable dents could be seen in the sides, and presumably on the roof as well.

The doors swung open and out stepped a woman. "Good mornin', folks." She stretched out her limbs and tilted her head side-to-side, her joints popping with each movement. "Lord, that feels so much better." She adjusted her Stetson and approached the group of mentors to exchange pleasantries, boots thudding with each step.

"Hey." Gregory nudged Jackson's arm. "Who's that?"

"How the hell should I know?" Jackson hissed.

"I dunno? You're like the ✦✧✦hero fanboy✧✦✧?" Gregory shrugged with his hands up. "I know you clocked Mrs. Dominic's hero persona when I TP'ed us in. I saw your face. Now, logically, there are only two kinds o' people that know who Sarah was. One—" he pointed at Jackson "—nerds. And two—" he moved his finger towards their mentors "—other heroes. So then—" he finally landed on the woman "—who is she?"

"She doesn't look like any of the heroes I know of." Geneviève stepped in between them, finger pressed to her chin as she watched her father interact with this stranger. "I would've remembered someone wearing an outfit like that." She squinted. "Rolled up sleeves on a plaid shirt? She's like some kind of cowgi—"

"Rookies!" The woman turned and strode up to the three.

This brought out a small yelp from Geneviève, who then hid behind Jackson's larger mass.

"I am your trainer, Calamity Jessie. You three are the lucky ones that get to intern at my ranch." She crossed her arms and looked the trio up and down. "A... lively bunch, for sure." She then turned and walked back to the bus, beckoning the three. "C'mon, pack it in 'n say your goodbyes. We gotta catch dinner 'fore it gets dark."

The bus ROARED as the engine came to life.

This was it. No turning back, no looking back.

Jackson steeled himself. He marched up to Quinn and stood—tall, rigid, headstrong—everything he was sure were good qualities in a hero. "Thank you, Commander." He saluted, fingers pressed up to his forehead before lowering slowly.

Quinn smirked. A first. Was it pride he felt? "At ease, Leburr. Now get in."

Jackson turned on his heel and slung the bags over his shoulders, stepping into the idle bus that sunk under his weight.

Gregory was scratching the back of his head when Sarah approached him. His eyes scanned the dents, something to distract him from the tears he felt forming. "Think I learned something before I even got to the ranch."

"Yeah?" Sarah smiled as Gregory glanced over and grinned.

"I'm not an emotionless guy." POP, he vanished and appeared inside the bus.

The last one left was Geneviève.

Geneviève stood facing her father. Her hands clutched her skirt so tight it felt like it could rip at any moment. "Alors, Papa." Her voice pitched slight, which she played off with a quick, "Ahem."

Arsène, for his part, had a smile on his face. "Ma petite fée." He opened his arms to her.

Geneviève grit her teeth. This was so uncool. I was supposed to be brave. Everyone is watching.

Finally, she threw herself into her father's arms and pressed her face into his chest. Her meticulously done makeup stained his pristine white suit. "Papa... je t'aime..." Her breathing came in short gasps, working against the coughing from the prickling she felt. "Come with me."

Arsène stood stoic, a sturdy tree protecting a dainty fairy from the rain of tears his staff was producing behind him. His hand brushed back her hair as he tilted her head. "N'aie pas peur, Geneviève. Do not be scared." He held her cheeks and shook her lightly. "You have the heart of a wolf, ma petite fée."

Geneviève straightened herself. She hiccuped, she coughed, she sniffled. She silently stepped back... Then turned... Then climbed into the bus.

The doors shut with a hiss. The bus rolled forwards. This was the start of their journey to become heroes.