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</div></div><br/>Being on the outside was…different. Not unpleasant, just different. For so many years he’d known the same pod of people he’d been practically raised next to, trained next to, ate and slept next to. There were very little that left, Noah wasn’t even sure what ‘leaving’ the Program would look like. How did one<i>quit</i>being a Superhero? Or rather, Hero in training. It wasn’t like you could just turn in your dorm key at the desk with your powers. They wouldn’t let ‘volatile’ abilities on the street willy-nilly.<br/><br/>But maybe Noah was just fussing over nothing because he was nervous about getting back into the normal side of things.<br/><br/>Now that he was graduated and given his shadowing assignment, he had some time to kill before shifts. More than he’d had since he was in middle school. ‘Needing a hobby’ was an understatement, and he had no idea where to start.<br/><br/>At heart, he was a social butterfly. He liked being around people, and without the constant din of the ‘barracks’, he was itching to get back out there. It might be weird, sure, but Shy- damn,<i>Shiloh</i>, was the last friend he’d had before the Program, and Facebook created a bridge to a past he’d nearly forgotten.<br/><br/>He barely thought twice before typing out, [Hey! Remember me? Blast from the past right?] Noah was nothing but fearless and dusting aside social nerves in favor of rekindling an old friendship was easier than preventing a bus from going over a cliff, that was for sure.<br/><br/>After a bit of cursory chitchat, Noah went for it, [Messages are great, but want to meet up? It’d be nice to catch up, Sunday at four? Jillian’s?] He might be biased, but Jillian’s on fourth had the best cinnamon buns on the west side. It wasn’t like he had to worry about calories now.<br/><br/><br/>The blast of cinnamon and fresh coffee felt a bit like home when Noah stepped through the door, a little early to scope out a good table where it would be far enough away from the usual din. Jitters buzzed under his skin as he chose a back table near the floor-to-ceiling windows looking over fourth street, quietly appreciating the passerbys.<br/><br/>The city was always a hive. People rushing too and fro, but it was so full of<i>life</i>. Sometimes looking down at them all didn’t give him the same impression of sitting among them like this. When he was Serving, he had to disassociate himself a little, less the individuals take up his periphery. But days like these, when he was in plain clothes and lacking his mask, he felt peaceful.<br/><br/>His fingertips warmed faintly, and he huffed a quiet chuckle to himself and ducked his hands into the pockets of his navy jacket until he got a better handle on his excitement. The last thing anyone needed was a balmy ambiance with their coffee.<br/><br/>His phone chirped from his jeans pocket, [How’s civilian life? Clawing at your eyes yet?]. Champion wasn’t what Noah had pictured when he first say his assignment dossier. The women cut a strong figure on television, decked out in white and gold, with her strong jaw framed by a halo of dark curls. She was the embodiment of heroism, doling out shimmering justice with a power as flexible and stunning as she was.<br/><br/>[Not exactly. I’m meeting a friend.] Noah smirked, shaking his head.<br/><br/>[Huh. You have friends? Good for you. Wear a condom. Be sober for tomorrow’s shift] Complete with winky face. Noah frowned with a small huff. Honestly. Champion was nothing like her television persona. Crass, crude, and able to slam beer back enough to put any other Super under the table. But still, Noah was learning under her tutelage. That’s what counted.<br/><br/>Noah clicked his phone to vibrate, not wanting to be rude when Shiloh got here. Others might let manners go by the wayside, but the Program taught them that heroism shouldn’t stop when the cameras did. Small acts are what counted the most.