"You made contact with a Class IV entity without authorization," Mentis stated, his tone more factual than accusatory. "Guardian protocols explicitly forbid such interaction without proper containment measures."
Max stood before the Guardian command table, still in his Rumor costume minus the mask. The debriefing session had been going for nearly an hour, and this particular point kept resurfacing.
"The entity wasn't hostile," Max defended for what felt like the tenth time. "It was trying to communicate, to warn us."
"Intentions are notoriously difficult to verify with extradimensional beings," Mentis countered. "Their conceptual frameworks often differ radically from our own."
Velocity, leaning against a nearby console, raised a supportive hand. "In fairness, Doc, Rumor's approach did yield information we wouldn't have gotten otherwise. The entity helped us close the portal voluntarily."
"A fortunate outcome that doesn't justify the risk taken," Mentis replied, though with less certainty than before.
Shimmer, who had been silently analyzing data from their containment operations, finally spoke. "Communication attempt yielded results. Risk assessment calculations must factor information value against potential hazard."
The debate was interrupted by the command room doors sliding open. Lumina entered, her white and gold uniform slightly tarnished from fieldwork. Despite obvious fatigue, she carried herself with undiminished grace, blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that still somehow managed to capture light around it.
Max felt his heartbeat quicken, even as he reminded himself to maintain professional composure. This was his first official meeting with Lumina as Rumor, and he didn't want to betray any connection to his courier identity.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, taking position at the table. "The Heights anomaly required additional containment measures." Her gaze fell on Max, curious but welcoming. "You must be Rumor. I've heard impressive things."
"Likewise," Max managed, grateful his mask had hidden his blush during their previous encounter at the university. He extended a hand. "It's an honor to meet you officially."
"Rumor has been assisting with anomaly containment," Mentis explained. "His phase-disruption technique has proven effective for controlled portal collapse."
"So I heard," Lumina said, a genuine smile warming her features. "That was quick thinking at the university. We could use more of that right now."
The command table illuminated, displaying the latest anomaly map of New Harbor. Red dots indicating dimensional rifts had decreased slightly in some areas but intensified in others.
"Overall incident rates show marginal improvement," Mentis reported. "Our containment teams closed seventeen anomalies in the past twelve hours. However, new formation rates remain concerning, particularly in these three districts."
He highlighted areas along the harbor, the university, and—most troublingly—the Eastern residential zone where The Shallows district was located.
"My neighborhood," Max said without thinking, then quickly added, "I mean, that's a heavily populated area. Lots of people could be at risk."
Lumina nodded. "Evacuation protocols are already being implemented in highest-risk sectors. But we can't relocate the entire eastern zone—we need to address the root cause."
"Which remains unidentified," Mentis reminded them. "Our current theory suggests a technological trigger amplifying natural weak points in dimensional boundaries."
Max thought about the refugee entity's vision and Mrs. Chen's warnings. Should he share that information now? Before he could decide, Shimmer spoke up.
"Rumor encountered significant intelligence during harbor operation," she stated with her typical precision. "Entity shared visual data suggesting systematic reality degradation in its origin dimension."
All eyes turned to Max.
"It wasn't clear communication," he clarified. "More like flashes of images when we made contact. Their world was falling apart—not just portals opening, but reality itself coming undone."
Mentis's interest visibly intensified. "Could you describe the specific visual indicators of this 'undoing'?"
Max tried to articulate what he'd seen. "It was like... sections of their city weren't just damaged, they were erased. Not explosions or destruction, but places where matter simply stopped existing, replaced by this empty whiteness that spread like cracks."
Mentis and Shimmer exchanged meaningful glances.
"Consistent with theoretical models of reality degradation," Shimmer noted.
"You've seen this before?" Max asked, surprised.
Mentis activated another display, showing complex equations and models. "We've theorized about advanced dimensional instability progressions. If localized breaches go unchecked, they could potentially expand into what we term 'null regions'—areas where conventional physics breaks down completely."
"That's what I saw in the entity's memories," Max confirmed. "Entire neighborhoods turning into these null regions."
Lumina's expression had grown increasingly concerned. "If the same process is happening here, could we be seeing the early stages? The proliferation of anomalies as a precursor?"
"Possible," Mentis conceded. "Though our reality seems to be showing greater resilience. The containment methods are working, albeit temporarily."
"Because we have Guardians," Velocity suggested. "Maybe their world didn't have powered individuals to fight back."
Max thought about Mrs. Chen's world, destroyed centuries before this Earth's Collapse. Had they lacked the tools to combat the degradation? Or had they simply discovered the threat too late?
"We need more information," Lumina decided. "If other entities are trying to warn us, we should establish proper communication protocols rather than just containing and closing every portal."
"Dangerous," Shimmer cautioned. "Entities vary in intent. Some may be refugees, others exploitative."
"Agreed," Mentis said. "But Lumina's suggestion has merit. A controlled research portal under maximum security might allow us to gather critical intelligence."
Max saw an opportunity. "I could help with that. My phase-shifting seems to create a sort of bridge for communication with these entities."
Mentis considered this. "Your ability does demonstrate unique properties for interdimensional interaction. However, proper safeguards would be essential."
The meeting continued, technical details of portal research and containment priorities being established. Max contributed where he could, but his thoughts kept returning to Mrs. Chen. She had direct experience with this exact scenario—a dimensional refugee who had witnessed her entire reality collapse. Her knowledge could be invaluable to the Guardians.
But she had also warned him about Mentis's scientific perspective and the dangers of sharing too much, too soon. Would bringing her into this risk accelerating the very crisis they were trying to prevent?
As the strategy session concluded, Lumina approached Max while the others were reviewing technical specifications.
"You did good work today," she said with a warmth that made his pulse quicken. "Not many would risk personal contact with an unknown entity."
"It seemed like the right call in the moment," Max replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"Trust your instincts," she advised. "They seem to be serving you well." She hesitated, then added, "There's something familiar about you, you know. Have we met before? Outside of the Guardian context?"
Max's heart nearly stopped. "I don't think so," he lied. "I would definitely remember meeting Lumina."
She smiled at that. "Fair enough. It's probably just that I've been working with civilians a lot lately during evacuations." She extended her hand again. "Looking forward to working with you, Rumor. The team needs fresh perspectives right now."
"Happy to help," Max managed, hoping his palm wasn't noticeably sweaty as he shook her hand.
As Lumina rejoined the others, Max felt a complex mixture of emotions. Pride at being accepted by the Guardians, guilt at hiding crucial information from them, and a renewed flutter of attraction that complicated everything further.
One thing was certain—he needed to speak with Mrs. Chen again, and soon.
---
"They're establishing a research portal," Max explained, pacing the limited confines of Mrs. Chen's apartment. "Trying to communicate with the entities coming through the rifts."
Mrs. Chen listened calmly, her silver hair in its perfect bun catching the soft light from her antique lamps. The walls of books and artifacts around them seemed to absorb his anxious energy.
"A logical approach," she conceded. "Though not without risks."
"That's why I'm here," Max said, stopping his pacing to face her directly. "You have experience with this—actual knowledge about reality degradation and dimensional collapse. The Guardians are working from theories and models. They need your insights."
Mrs. Chen considered this, absently adjusting one of her ornate hairpins. "Perhaps. But introducing too much external knowledge too quickly could be destabilizing. Your world must find its own path to understanding."
"Even if that means repeating the same mistakes that doomed your world?" Max challenged.
A shadow crossed her usually serene features. "My world's fate was not due to lack of knowledge, but rather how that knowledge was applied. Certain... interventions... accelerated the very processes we sought to halt."
This was new information. "What kind of interventions?"
Mrs. Chen moved to a cabinet and unlocked it with a small key she wore around her neck. From inside, she withdrew an object wrapped in silk. Carefully unwrapping it, she revealed what appeared to be a crystalline device about the size of her palm, with intricate geometric patterns inscribed across its surface.
"In my world, we developed technology to stabilize dimensional boundaries," she explained. "But the power required created its own disruptions—like trying to repair a dam by diverting the very river threatening to breach it."
Max studied the device with fascination. "Is that one of those technologies?"
"A remnant," she confirmed. "Inert now, but once part of a network designed to reinforce reality at its weakest points."
"Could something like this work here?" Max asked. "With modifications based on what you learned from your world's failure?"
Mrs. Chen carefully rewrapped the device. "Potentially. But implementation would require resources beyond what even the Guardians possess, and knowledge I'm reluctant to share without absolute certainty it wouldn't worsen conditions."
Max ran a hand through his disheveled hair in frustration. "Then what? We just keep closing portals one by one while reality falls apart around us?"
"No," Mrs. Chen said with surprising firmness. "We seek a different approach—one uniquely suited to this reality's conditions." She fixed him with that penetrating gaze that always made him feel transparent. "One involving you, specifically."
"Me? Because I'm this 'Consensus Avatar' thing you mentioned?"
She nodded. "Your ability to manifest collective belief as physical reality represents a fundamental shift in how this world operates. It suggests a malleability that could be either catastrophic or salvation, depending on how it's directed."
"I don't understand how my weird rumor powers could help with dimensional collapse," Max said, echoing his earlier objection.
"Because you're thinking too linearly," Mrs. Chen explained. "If reality in this world responds to collective perception—even slightly—then perhaps it can be reinforced through properly focused belief rather than technological intervention."
The concept was simultaneously abstract and profound. "You're saying we could believe reality whole?"
"Not precisely," she clarified. "But perhaps a Consensus Avatar could serve as a conduit for collectively focused intention, strengthening dimensional boundaries at critical junctures."
Max sat heavily in the nearest chair, overwhelmed by the implication. "That's... a lot of responsibility."
"Indeed," Mrs. Chen acknowledged. "Which is why I've been cautious about sharing too much too quickly. You needed time to understand your abilities, to recognize both their potential and their limitations."
"And now?"
"Now," she said gravely, "time grows short. The acceleration of anomalies indicates we've entered a critical phase of degradation. Decisions must be made, risks taken."
Max thought about the Guardians' research portal, about Mentis's scientific approach and Lumina's compassionate perspective. "I should tell them about you," he said finally. "Not everything, maybe, but enough that they understand what we're facing."
Mrs. Chen was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded once. "Perhaps you're right. A carefully controlled sharing of knowledge may be necessary at this juncture."
"Will you come with me? Talk to them directly?"
"Not yet," she decided. "First, approach Mentis alone. Share what you've learned about reality degradation and dimensional refugees. Gauge his reaction, his openness to perspectives beyond his scientific framework."
It was a reasonable compromise. "And if he's receptive?"
"Then we'll consider a more direct exchange," Mrs. Chen said. "But proceed cautiously, Max. Not everyone who claims to protect this world truly understands what they're protecting—or from what."
The cryptic warning hung in the air between them, adding another layer of complexity to Max's already tangled responsibilities.
"One more thing before you go," Mrs. Chen said, crossing to her bookshelf. She selected a small, leather-bound journal and handed it to him. "This contains my observations about the early stages of degradation from my world. Specific signs to watch for, patterns that preceded major collapses."
Max accepted the journal with surprise. "I thought you were cautious about sharing too much knowledge."
"I am," she confirmed. "But you've shown wisdom in how you've navigated your emerging role. And sometimes, having information too late is more dangerous than having it too early."
The trust implied by the gesture moved him. "Thank you. I'll study it carefully."
As Max prepared to leave, a thought occurred to him. "The entity at the harbor—it seemed to recognize me specifically, just like you said about the university one. What exactly do they see when they look at me?"
Mrs. Chen's expression softened slightly. "They see possibility. A node of potential where reality remains flexible rather than rigid. In a universe coming undone, such points of adaptation are beacons that draw attention—both from those seeking sanctuary and those seeking exploitation."
"That's why they approach me specifically," Max realized. "Not because I'm powerful, but because I represent change."
"Precisely," Mrs. Chen confirmed. "You embody this reality's attempt to evolve in response to crisis. Whether that evolution succeeds..." She left the sentence unfinished, but her meaning was clear.
Max tucked the journal securely inside his jacket. "I'll talk to Mentis tomorrow. For now, I need to process all this."
Mrs. Chen nodded understanding. "Rest, Max. The weight of consensus is not easily borne, even by those designed to carry it."
As he left her apartment, Max couldn't help feeling that "designed" was a very specific word choice. One that raised even more questions about his origins and purpose than it answered.
But those questions would have to wait. For now, he had a world to help save—one rumor at a time.