“What is this nonsense?” mutters Banks as Rita steps out of frame.
Porter hushes him.
Evan is next to appear. The number of viewers has now surpassed five digits.
“Serving this city with Station 47 is the greatest honor of my life,” he says. “I’ve known our captain since we were rookies, and we have spent more than a decade growing with this station. These people inspire me every single day and I genuinely don’t know who I would be, or where I would have ended up, if not for the opportunities that Station 47 has offered me.”
He nods a little awkwardly, then steps off screen. Short and sweet, just how he likes to keep most of his conversational contributions.
Noah appears next.
“For the love of God…” grumbles Banks.
“What exactly is the problem?” snaps another council member, a forty-something man known as Zimmerman. “From what I see, nothing inappropriate is occurring, Banks.”
Pelavin steps in. “They can’t just hold a live press conference like this without warning or planning.”
“Well, it’s not a press conference, is it?” counters Porter. “Now, hush. I’m listening to the handsome young man.”
“—and my time with the Marines was challenging, to say the least,” Noah is saying, looking more somber and focused than I’ve ever seen him before. “When I got back home, I felt lost and purposeless. I wanted to be useful, but my mental health couldn’t handle another overseas tour. But when I found Station 47, I knew I’d uncovered my true calling.”
“True calling? Tossing kittens into trees and then pretending to save them?” Banks sneers, crossing his arms.
“He didn’t—” I begin.
“Quiet, Banks,” snaps Zimmerman. “You’re acting ridiculous.”
Banks opens his mouth to respond, but something in Zimmerman’s gaze silences him.
Hope flares in my chest.
“Many of you watching will know me as a bit of a goofball,” Noah states. “I’ve always been the class clown sort of guy, and even in the most harrowing situations, I’ve had an inexplicable habit of looking on the bright side of things. That’s the only explanation I can really offer in regard to the fact that many people believe I’m unable to take things seriously. But I am serious about my passion for Station 47 and serving the citizens of New York. I would do anything for you. I would, without hesitation, die for you.”
And, fuck, I know it’s true. Not just because you can see the conviction burning in his eyes even through the screen, but because I know who Noah is right down to the marrow of his bones. It’s why I kept him around after the original scandal instead of dismissing him as nothing but a troublemaker.
Just like him, I wouldn’t hesitate to die for this city. In a lot of ways, we’re opposite sides of the same coin, and I suppose Evan is the alloy that keeps us all together.
Noah gives the camera a winning smile, devoid of the twinkling mischief that is usually present there, and steps away.
He’s replaced by Lila.
Something slick and eager twists in my core when I see her appear, dressed in a lovely burgundy suit, her wild hair just barely contained in a clip.
The viewers have skyrocketed to six figures. Banks looks like he wants to rip the projector screen right off the wall.
Pelavin is now glaring at it with hands tightly fisted. I fight the urge to shove him to the ground, to do something drastic… like blind him, so that he can never look at her like that again.
“I’m Lila Hart, as most of you will probably know by now,” she begins, smiling brightly in her sweet and playful way. “I’ve only been working with Station 47 for a few weeks, but I have seen them all risk their lives over and over, without hesitation and without complaint. As soon as the alarms go off, they are on their way. When help is needed, nothing else matters except that they get to you as fast as possible. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and I’ve shown you the proof of where their hearts lie as best I can with Save A Hero.”
Banks shakes his head, stomping over to Pelavin. Harsh whispers are exchanged, but all other eyes in the room are glued to Lila.
“You may have heard rumors about this station’s lack of devotion,” Lila states, gaze so ferocious that her green irises seem to glow. “Half-truths, perhaps. Headlines designed to get clicks, stir controversy, and fuel reelection campaigns. But here we stand, telling our stories to you, so that you can hear for yourselves how genuine and courageous and unwavering the people of Station 47 are. Those who point accusatory fingers sit behind their desks in comfort, but these heroes are out there, actively making this city a safer place with their own two hands.”
“Hmm, it’s true,” murmurs Porter, glancing over at me. “I couldn’t do what you do, Captain.”
I incline my head in polite thanks, but Lila captures my attention again.
“So, I ask the people watching to hear our stories and to think critically about the true goals of the messages you’ve heard. Station 47 endeavors to convince you of their goodness because they are good people who want to continue being able to serve this city. In contrast, this station’s adversaries seek only their personal gain. If you are a New Yorker, I encourage you to call your city council’s office right now, no matter which borough you belong to, and urge them to support Station 47’s continued funding.”
