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"Don't worry about me," the Centurion told Paige reassuringly, and she could feel the edges of a mind as bright and sharp as ever even if his invulnerable body had obviously been taking a beating that day. "I've been away too long. Many of us have. We left the fight to those of you brave enough to carry on without us," he added to 1-800-Justice. "But never again. We will never abandon you again." He landed and extended a hand to shake Wail's, his grip rock-solid. "And if I've ever looked down on any of you," he admitted, taking all them in his gaze, "it was only because I was flying too high to see what really mattered." 

 

There were people among the crowd of evacuees, who wanted to see the Centurion, talk to him, even now - and he somehow found the time to see them all, shaking men's hands and embracing old women, reassuring everyone from the oldest to the youngest that everything was going to be all right. For his part, Richard had been mostly silent at the sight of the Man of Adamant - of all of them there, he'd had the most antagonistic relationship with the Centurion, even if it had mostly been tagging along during his mother's frequent duels with the "golden gargoyle!" 

 

When it was almost done, and the convoy was beginning their journey out of the city, Richard finally managed a handshake, his own hand feeling small and thin in the Centurion's grip. When those blue eyes met his, all he could muster was "Thank you." 

 

"No. Thank you. All of you. You're saving everything." And with that remark, and one last look around Lincoln, the Centurion was gone. 

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There was a long moment of quiet after the Centurion flew off, like there might be after an angelic visitation, with people staring at the sky or at each other, not sure what to do. Paige shook herself and ran a slightly bloody hand through her matted hair. "All right, we've got a breathing space," she reminded the others. "So let's breathe while we can. I can't feel anyone else alive and trapped around here, and the road is unblocked. And I don't know about any of the rest of you, but I've absolutely got to get off my feet and take a dozen aspirin." 

 

She sat down on a bench that had once been a bus stop before its rain shelter had been ripped up and used for cover. "Richard, can you maybe get us something to eat so we're not taxing the supplies at the shelter?" She smiled, just a tiny little bit. "I could go for some pizza, Chicago-style."

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"Back in a flash," agreed Fast-Forward with a trace of a smile. "You guys want anything?" he called to 1-800-Justice, and when they didn't disagree - he was off! Fast-Forward at full-tilt was something to see - they'd seen him in combat all that day, zipping around the battlefield faster than the eye could follow, but he was simply gone now, leaving behind a faint woosh that belied the hypersonic rapidity of his exit. The minutes ticked by, ten by Jive's watch, the only sounds where they were the occasional sound of settling buildings and the woof of a distant dog. Something might have been happening at City Center, from the flashes of light in the sky against the reddened clouds overhead and occasional low concussion, but there was no way to tell from this distance. 

 

And then Fast-Forward was back with the same gentle woosh, sure enough reappearing with an armload of thick, boxed pizzas that practically burst with the scent of cheese and tomato sauce. He'd even improvised an entire backpack full of soda - which in this case turned out to be nothing but Cherry Cola Slice. "Foodshere!" he called to the heroes as he sat down next to Paige and, in a snap, laid out the spread. "And I even paid for it legally, with money I..." He shook his head, then added, "It's already over in Chicago! There's something...on the Sears Tower, but the local heroes have it handled. I saw something on the news about them sending people over here." 

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