At the La Perdita Hilton Hotel, a small group of strange individuals known collectively as the Vanguardians contemplated their next move. The Complex was destroyed, the company was effectively dissolved along with it, and the group had just received the official notice they were all expecting that new zoning laws would prohibit the old Dawson Apartments/Complex from being used as anything but a residential area. After several months of metahuman-related property damage and general aggravated mayhem, Vanguard was getting kicked out of its own headquarters...
Five Vanguardians sat around having breakfast at the Hotel diner. The notice from the La Perdita government sat untouched in the middle of the table, but that wasn't the only thing that was bothering the group. Another letter now in Grissom Montag's hand, having just been read out, had silenced all of them.
"I've lost my appetite," Ed Cicciotto said, pushing away a plateful of spaghetti.
Brianna Finula shook her head and said, "Did he provide a reason?"
"Seems fairly obvious to me, m'lady," Rama "Mason" Avatar replied as he rearranged the pieces of curry chicken around on his plate without taking a bite.
"I'm surprised he stuck with us as long as he did, really," Phil Smith said, staring at a piece of toast with one bite taken from it.
Grissom Montag said, "Prob'ly stayed out o' guilt after what 'e did... er..." Phil flashed him a warning look, and Grissom continued, "...I mean, 'e must've felt 'is promises for the prospects o' the company never quite matched up t'the reality."
The table fell silent once more.
Ed Cicciotto, the most senior Vanguardian, raised his glass and said, "To Kit Piper. May he find the kind of success in his next venture he never found in this one."
"To Kit Piper!" everyone agreed as they clinked their glasses together.
"Now, about housing," Brianna said. "What're we gonna do?"
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I've already got a nice villa of my own," Mason said. "I picked it up before I joined the team, in fact. You'll notice I never actually lived at the Complex."
"Eddie and I need a place to live," Ed Cicciotto said. "Some place stable, away from the madness of the Complex."
"If any of you're worried about funds," said Grissom Montag, "please don't be. I'll spot all of you until we get back on our feet. This goes above and beyond business interests, y'understand. You're my family."
Mason laughed, "You're not the only one who's independently wealthy, lad. I may not be rich, but I'm well enough off to help out with anyone's rent for as long as they need it. Money is never an issue."
"And the team?" Phil asked. "Since we're effectively locked out of the Complex, even if it wasn't destroyed, where are we going to base the team?"
The table went quiet again. Finally, Mason said, "What team, Phil? Danny's gone, Victoria Xiang is dead, we've got members leaving left and right, we have no headquarters, and the company is effectively liquidated. What's left?"
"We're left," Grissom muttered. "Y'know what we've lost, Mason? Overhead. That's all. The team isn't the company. The team is us."
Cicciotto added, "We never needed anything more back in the old days, when there was just five of us."
"I... I guess you're right," Mason said, taking a sip of his drink.
There was a bit of chuckling around the table, causing Mason to raise his eyebrow out of puzzlement.
"You really have changed, Mason," chuckled Phil. "A few months ago you would've pushed the table over and bellowed an angry retort before having your bird shit on Grissom's head." A slight chuckle went around the table.
"We've all changed," Mason said in a serious tone after a moment. "Everything changes. The glory days always fade away before we can even recognize them. Such is the nature of life..." Mason took another sip of his drink, swallowed, and said, "Sic transit gloria mundi..."
"...So passes the glory of the world," Grissom said.
"Aye, lad. Aye."
