There are no glass walls or floor-to-ceiling screens: just concrete rooms painted white in an attempt to make it not the most depressing environment of all time. I’ve wandered around here once or twice, but the deserted vibe always creeped me out.
“Why are we all the way over here?” I ask Teddy, who pulls a brass key from his pocket.
“Well, it’s kind of hard to do secret investigations when your office is see-through, don’t you think?” he answers with sass. Unlocking a large metal door, he gestures for us to go inside, but Claire is not having it.
“Yeah, right!” She crosses her arms in resolve. “I’m not going in there just so you can trap us inside!”
Teddy rolls his eyes. “Oh, Claire, if I really wanted to lock you up, I would have done it a long time ago.” This doesn’t exactly boost our confidence. Neither of us moves, causing him to sigh dramatically, handing me the key. “There. Now will you come in?”
Claire shakes her head in warning, brown eyes blinking in doubt. But we’ve come this far, and while I’d never consider Teddy an ally, I desperately want to learn what is causing his self-righteous glee. Placing my non-broken hand on Claire’s shoulder, I say, “C’mon, we need to see this through. For Matt, for Joy.” Claire nods, face pinched in determination.
The concrete office is like a jail cell, only outfitted with stolen technology. He’s created his own mini control room, with outdated screens fighting for space on an old wooden table, yellow legal pads filled with pages and pages of hand-scrawled notes. This isn’t a last-minute, thrown-together project; Teddy’s been at this for a while. We squeeze inside, both of us marveling at his hidden detective bunker.
“How long have you had this office?” I ask, shocked at how he could assemble something like this without anyone noticing.
“Hmm, probably over a year now. My hours under Millie kept getting longer and longer, and sometimes it was just easier to sleep here.” He nods at a sleeping bag rolled up under the desk. “It’s probably why I’m so pale.”
Claire flips through his legal pads, eyes wide in disbelief. “But all these notes! They go back…wow, years?”
“Well, I am a WarNat at heart, after all,” he says, thin lips twisted in vindication.
Claire’s jaw drops, unsure how to process this information.
He gives her a fake pout, ruffling her hair like she’s a lost puppy. “Aww, I know, you thought you were the only one. But no. I’ve been tracking Warrior crime stats since I was a teenager, and that didn’t change when I got hired. I just got access to better information. And when Siege came onto the scene, I knew something was wrong.”
For someone who claims not to be a villain, he sure is going into monologue mode with ease. “Teddy, this is all very…impressive,” I say, stoking his ego, “but just tell us what you know. The heroes are hurt—they need us.”
He smiles at the word “us,” chest swelling with pride. “I agree. Now, what I’m about to say may come as a shock, but I think the real Siege is…” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Roy Masterson.”
What? Claire frowns as I cautiously ask, “Okay…why?”
He laughs in surprise, shocked that we didn’t immediately see things his way. “Don’t you think it’s obvious? The man is chapter president, yet he’s never around. He hardly ever shows up to important meetings, and even when he does, he’s clueless. Millie usually has to cover for him, stepping up to speak on his behalf because he’s been gone doing god knows what!”
All of that is true, though none of it feels like a smoking gun. While Roy is definitely an absentee leader, I always felt that came from a lack of talent, not malicious intent. Matt used to joke that Roy literally fell into this job, crashing and burning in the field but then suddenly finding himself in the highest command. I mean, he was the most inept hero in Warrior history, and for a guy known as Mr. Know-It-All, it’s pretty clear he’s usually in the dark on most things. “I don’t know, Teddy. Just because he’s incompetent doesn’t mean he’s guilty. Do you have any evidence against him?”
Teddy shuffles through his papers as Claire looks at me, utterly confused. “I would’ve never thought of Roy, honestly,” she says. “WarNats call him President Doofus, mostly for all his failures in battle, but also because of that dopey smile of his. But now