"They did it. I knew they would!" Commander Layla clenched her fist and punched the air, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.
"That'll shut those haters up for good."
The eighty-story Hero Association building roared with joy at the news of what the Hero Squad had accomplished.
Johnathan Flicker stood beside her, eyes fixed on the screen. One hand covered his mouth, his eyes glistening with emotion. He looked like a proud father, amazed by what his children had done.
"Commander Layla," he said, voice shaky with awe, "I don't know if I'm exaggerating, but they just pulled off a feat even top-ranked heroes would struggle with."
Layla chuckled. "We'll keep that between us. Don't let the S-ranks hear it."
"Hahaha." Johnathan laughed.
The celebration continued throughout the building. Layla had already instructed everyone to prepare for the team's arrival.
Several minutes later—
The Hero Squad arrived in sync.
As they made their way toward the massive tower, they were met by the Commander herself, her assistant Johnathan, and the full roster of Hero Association officials—all lined up and waiting with admiration.
The heroes' eyes widened—none of them had expected this.
With a look of appreciation, Timothy said, "You all didn't have to do this."
"Sure we can!" shouted a cadet.
"Yeah, yeah—you guys deserve this," the other officials murmured among themselves.
The commander finally spoke.
"Well done, Timothy. You and your team have done well. You all deserve more than this, and I'm sure the city and its people will show their gratitude. So be prepared for celebrations."
Her face held a faint smile as she said those words.
She continued, "Now, before any jollification, let's tend to your wounds."
"Finally," Tyler voiced out. "All this talk about celebrations, but my body's about to give up on me."
"Now look who called me weak," Jakson said, smirking at Tyler with a sarcastic look.
"Shut up, Jakson," Tyler replied flatly.
"Tyler got burned," Rudy teased, grinning at the exchange.
***
Now in the base.
The guys were cleaning themselves up, workers moving around, handing out aid kits and fresh supplies.
Timothy peeled off his damaged suit, and as the fabric dropped, a long diagonal scar across his chest came into view.
Derick was the first to react.
"Yo, Captain—you've got a bigger mark than I do," he said, glancing down at his own wounds and comparing them with squinted eyes.
"You big oaf, does that look like a new wound to you?" Larry snapped, rolling his eyes.
"Oh right… it's old. But from where?" Derick asked, still staring.
"Hmm. Scar from a naughty teenager," Timothy said with a half-smile.
"Sheesh," Max whistled. "You must've had it rough during your teen years."
"Yeah… rough years," Timothy replied quietly. His expression shifted—briefly clouded, slightly distant.
The others leaned in, curious now. They started pressing him for the story behind the scar, tossing questions and theories his way. But Timothy gave nothing more.
That's when Raymond's voice cut through the chatter.
"Guys—enough," he said firmly. "Let the man breathe. Everyone's got their past. Just let him be."
Silence settled in. The vice commander had spoken—and that was that.
Raymond walked over to Timothy, his tone softer now.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Timothy replied. "Thanks for the—"
"No need for thanks, Timothy," Raymond said with a calm smile. "We're closer than that already."
He paused, his voice more thoughtful now.
"Everyone's got scars… hidden things they're not ready to share. Maybe now's not the time to dig into personal wounds."
Timothy met his eyes, a hint of gratitude in his gaze. He nodded in quiet agreement.
***
Moments later, the Commander walked in.
"Commander, you can't just walk in when guys are dressing," Jakson said with a smirk.
His close buddy Rudy added with a teasing grin,
"He's right, Commander. A little privacy would be appreciated."
Commander Layla crossed her arms, her tone firm.
"I still don't like you two."
"Oh really? Well, that's good to hear," Jakson replied casually.
"But..." she paused, her voice softening just a little.
"Thank you—for your heroics."
The two glanced at each other with smug smiles, then responded in unison:
"You're welcome."
She stepped past them and approached Derick, who was still tending to a gash along his ribs.
Without a word, she knelt beside him.
"Let me help you with that," she offered, her voice unusually gentle.
Derick looked surprised.
"You don't have to, Commander. I can handle it."
But she was already opening the med kit. He sighed, finally giving in.
Layla began bandaging the wound, her hands steady. Her fingers paused longer than necessary. When she realized, her cheeks flushed.
"I-I'm just making sure it's tight enough," she said quickly, trying to compose herself.
Cough, cough.
A teasing cough came from behind her—Johnathan, watching from the entrance.
Derick didn't even notice.
"Thanks, Commander," he said simply.
Layla stood up abruptly and walked out before the others could catch on.
Johnathan was waiting for her outside.
"So… your thing for muscled men is still active, huh?" he teased with a grin.
Her cheeks turned red.
"I was just helping him. Nothing more."
"Yep. Just helping," Johnathan echoed with a playful nod.
She ignored the look on his face.
"Let's go. I have a meeting with the higher-ups."
***
Elsewhere in the base...
Sage approached Timothy.
"I hope you haven't forgotten what I told you earlier, Captain."
"No, I haven't," Timothy replied. "You ready now?"
Sage nodded.
"Come with me to the other room."