Carol Dallon was currently popping her top off directly in my face. Quite literally flushed an ominous shade of ruddy pink, her nose inches away from mine. She was trembling and poking me in the upper chest with an index finger repeatedly as emphasis for the words she was practically shouting in my face. As if that alone wouldn’t get the point across.

  Five minutes ago, she had stormed in on me and my mom in the operations center we had at the station and demanded that I change and put some clothing on for an immediate and private meeting with the Dallon family. Mom went to invite herself to the meeting as well, and Carol had shut her the fuck down. I was the only Rivera to attend.

  I had a very good idea why that might be, and told Mom that it was fine, I’d handle it, and not to worry.

  Now I stood in very casual athletic wear, getting stripped down by Carol in an office on the first floor. Carol, Mark, Amy, and Vicky were present. Mark had his arms folded over his chest and was half-leaning, half-sitting on a desk facing Carol and me. He looked rather miffed. I couldn’t pin Vicky’s facial expression under my claws. Disappointment, maybe? Amy looked humiliated, but I knew her better than that. That wasn’t the only thing under the surface.

  “How long have you been welcome in our house, you and your sister coming over for sleepovers, and your parents visiting and grilling in the backyard!?”

  She didn’t give me a moment to answer. She clearly hadn’t intended to. As livid as she was, she was ever the calculating and downright cunning woman that she was.

  “All that time! Everything that has happened, especially in recent months! And you-you!”

  She jabbed me again. I could take it, but she was pissing me off.

  “You slither in like a snake behind our backs and do this!?” Her voice nearly cracked at the tail end.

  I tried to defuse the situation, at least a little. “I feel like I should be offended by you likening me to a snake like that, but I’m not sure what to even call it. Speciesism?”

  It didn’t work with Carol. “You think this is a joke!? This is a betrayal! She’s my daughter!”

  I wasn’t going to be a doormat in this encounter. Not just because I had a fancy job and title, or because I had a reputation within this growing community we were in. This was a deeply personal issue, and I’d damn well stand up and fight for myself when pressed to do so. I stared into her eyes, unblinking and unwavering.

  “She is your daughter. She’s also eighteen. Which means she’s an adult and can make her own decisions for herself. That’s well-established by law.”

  “Oh, that’s how you want to play this?” She snapped back.

  I am starting to get more than a touch heated.

  I took a deep breath to try and calm myself and let it out slowly. “No, Carol. I don’t want to play this at all. I’m here right now, honoring your very rude demands because of that respect you were just yelling about.”

  “You respect me so much? You respect Mark so much!?” More jabs to the chest. “You respect us so much that you’d just come in and fuc-”

  My temper flared, or maybe more accurately, it erupted. I’d been trying to avoid this happening, because I was afraid I’d do something I’d regret if I did. Time to find out.

  A growl tore out of my throat, and it was not at all a Morgan growl. Carol’s mouth snapped shut like a rat trap, and she didn’t finish her sentence. My lips were pulled back, and I burned holes through her eyes. It felt like I was looming over her all of a sudden.

  “How dare you make demands that I come here like this, and then expect me to stand idly while you treat me like your verbal punching bag, all because of your inability to actually listen to what it is your daughter wants.”

  Carol flinched like I’d slapped her square across the cheek. I wasn’t done.

  “Amy is an adult, not a ten-year-old, that you get to dictate must follow what it is you want anymore. You can’t even make the tired argument that it’s your house and your rules.”

  She glared back at me. I still wasn’t done.

  “Finally, you want to preach to me about trust and respect? How about you show some of that to your own daughters and husband? About how long we’ve been close as families? You don’t even know how many times I’ve talked to Victoria and Amy when they’re crying or upset because their mom can’t give them the trust and respect enough to listen to them. Years Carol! Years!”

  She took a step back, her composure faltering.

  “You don’t get to throw a tantrum and project at me over your issues. Fix them. Do better. Be better!”

  Carol looked like a week-old party balloon at the moment.

  Mark cleared his throat. Carol looked back at him, then decided that standing next to him might be a good idea and repositioned.

  I covered my face with my palms and willed my temper back into its hole. My face was hot, and I knew I was flushed. Another deep breath and a very slow exhale.

  I dragged my palms down my face, parted my bangs, then took stock of the situation.

  Carol was standing next to Mark, close enough that their thighs were touching. Amy and Vicky stood together to the side.

  Carol looked stressed out now that she’d blown off some steam.

  Mark looked protective of her, but also like he had things he wanted to get off his chest.

  Victoria had a hint of a smile teasing her lips.

  Amy was blushing. The contrast with her freckles was very cute.

  “Okay,” I said. “Can we please discuss the actual issue here and not the subjects around it. What is the actual problem?”

  I looked between Carol and Mark. I expected Carol to respond, and I was correct.

  “Sarah and I have worked too hard to build what we have to have our members sniped out from under us.”

  Wow, Carol. There are times I have major respect for you, and this isn’t one of them.

  “..And I don’t want to see problems arise in our home between potential conflicts with teams or loyalties. What we have works well.”

  Amy looked like she might say something, then hesitated. I spoke instead.

  “Correcting the framing, or the assumption here, because it’s important. There seems to be either a miscommunication or a misunderstanding, or we’re not being trusting and respectful of one another and the truth.”

  Carol glared at me at the implication that she was lying.

  “Namely that this isn’t team sniping, which I would agree, in this context, would be especially shitty.”

  Let’s throw her a bone. If that’s what was actually going on, yeah. I’d hate me too.

  I continued. “Amy and Victoria both know how desperately we’re struggling in the Protectorate and Wards currently. We simply do not have enough people to be able to functionally respond to issues in the city right now. We, here,” I gestured around, indicating the Station. “...Are picking up a lot of the slack and things that are falling between the gaps. We all know this because we’re all working our asses off. ”

  Nods all around. Very good.

  “But our group here at the Station is also not trying to cover the entire city all at once, all the time. And as you all know, the PRT has different priorities and expectations, both internally and those placed on them by the rest of the Fed. We have higher expectations, fewer people, and a wider area. I’ll be candid with you, Carol. It’s a mess. It’s bad. Director Piggot has even authorized tinker stimulants for us in the Protectorate, just to try and bridge the gaps in what way we can.”

  Carol sighed.

  “Can I ask you something?” She looked up at me, then gave a quick nod.

  “Why is it you don’t have a problem with Victoria volunteering with the Wards, but you have a problem with Amy volunteering with the Protectorate?”

  Victoria shifted on her feet and didn’t look at any of us.

  Carol extended an accusatory finger at me. “Because you're pressuring her to do it, and have been for weeks, maybe months.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. I have been pressuring her for weeks, maybe even months. But I think you’re drawing the entirely wrong conclusion about it. I’ve never pressured her to join the PRT, Wards, or leave New Wave.”

  “And, she just decides one day that she doesn’t want to be Panacea anymore. She’s world-famous as Panacea. She doesn’t want to heal people. She instead wants to start going to the gym and training with you, and with her uncle Neil in close combat skills.”

  Carol was getting her second wind, placed a hand on her hip, and leaned forward.”And you expect me to believe that it’s all unrelated?”

  “It’s totally related. One-to-one.” I shook my head. “I have been pressuring her to stop bottling up her feelings and to actually pursue doing the things that make her happy, and to put aside the things that she dislikes.”

  Now it was my turn to point. I flicked an index finger at Mark. “When Amy decided all on her own after I’d pressured her to make changes in her life, she went to Mark. He had similar concerns, Carol, but his primary concerns were Amy’s well-being and happiness. Whereas you seem to be more concerned with her well-being and success.”

  Carol took it on the chin. I had something of my own I had to get off my chest. “Carol, you and Mark are like… Both Melody and I see your home as our home-away-from-home. I’m not going to get into my feelings anymore on this subject right now, but I will tell you: I can’t be your family counselor or intermediary, or for that matter, your scapegoat when it’s convenient. We’re in this weird position now where I’m some kind of pseudo-peer for your team’s leadership, and it’s weird. I know that more than anyone.”

  I looked at each in turn, but my eyes remained on Carol in the end. She was who I was really having this conversation with. “If I had ulterior motives or was cracking some plot against you, you think I wouldn’t just bring it to you directly, and instead scheme from behind others? I thought you knew me better than that.”

  Carol looked momentarily taken aback. I’d gotten through to her on that point as well. She pursed her lips and looked at Mark. This argument and subsequent conversation with her had taken a lot out of me, emotionally. I was frustrated and exhausted from the ten thousand other things happening simultaneously in my life already, and having to verbally bitch-slap my virtual step-mom wasn’t on my to-do list today.

  The fact of the matter was, I had other life-sapping, soul-sucking shit to do today. I checked my phone. Always a time crunch.

  “I have to go. I have other commitments.” I squared my shoulders. “Carol, my door is always open for you. I understand your concerns, but they’re off-base. Please sit down and talk with your family.” I glanced at Mark and Amy. Mark met my eyes, and Amy glanced away. “In a way where everyone is contributing and heard. You’ll figure out what is truly going on.”

  I wanted to say more. Things like Mark, be a better moderator. And Amy, stop letting your mom cow you with her antics. Victoria didn’t have a problem speaking her mind, but she did have a problem with Carol not actually listening to her. That wasn’t Victoria’s issue to fix, though.

  I left the downstairs office and went upstairs, using the clinic’s little private bathroom because I wanted privacy, and it was never used. I shut the door behind me, leaned against the door, and slid down until my knees were at chest level and my butt planted on the cool floor.

  I have to keep my shit together. First, the flashback and episode. The… things that came after.

  I propped my arms on my knees and rested my head on my forearms. I needed to talk to Jessica Yamada. That was another relationship that had suddenly become awfully complicated with my new job. I didn’t want to think that I’d had a PTSD episode and a mini-relapse because of stress. I knew it was probably the case.

  I had a plan to address that, but I’d just been procrastinating on it a little.

  I’d already asked my power for changes to reduce the amount of sleep I needed, and it had been effortless. I was eating more, but I already ate a ton, and the difference wasn’t drastic. When I’d made the change, I’d considered trying to eliminate sleep entirely, but opted for the safer bet. Or well, maybe it was more that I was trying to test things incrementally. My power was historically a bit temperamental, although I had been experiencing that far, far less since my transition into Apex.

  If I wanted to reduce my stress levels, having more time would give me more breathing room and the possibility of taking some more time for myself each day. Having more hours on the clock would help that.

  I wanted to lock myself in here, turn out the lights, and just shut out the world. I wanted to cry, and maybe to yell.

  But I had three teams to run. The Station needed me. The Protectorate needed me. The Wards needed me. Beyond that, my friends and family needed me, the city needed me, and I was trying very hard not to think about the hundred or more emails I’d be responding to in the office overnight.

  Right. Time for emotional body blows, round two. Let’s do this. Takes more than a hysterical cape mom to crack this bitch, bitch.

  I stood up, wiped my eyes, and tidied myself up in the mirror. I fucking loved my not-makeup skin pigmentation. I looked like I’d just gotten done touching up my lashes. I flashed myself a big grin, my slightly-too-large canines gleaming in the bright lighting. I didn’t want to strip, fully change back, then fly to where we were going, then change back, then get re-dressed.

  Fuck that. Power, I want to fly without changing the rest of Morgan Rivera, and crank my strength while you’re at it.

  Of course, my power didn’t listen or work with words in the slightest. Images, ideas, and concepts. So I whipped up the mental picture of Morgan Rivera, the concept of flying, and the concept of carrying someone else while doing it effortlessly, and sent it across. Then I whipped the door open and headed to the dorms at a brisk pace.

  Taylor’s door was open, and she was inside, lying on her back on top of her covers, a book held in her hands. She looked over at me as I basically pounced into the doorway, took a breath, and sighed.

  “Is it time?”

  “Bet your slender ass it is. Let’s bust a move,” I told her with a grin.

  She dog-eared her page, set the book on the bed, and stood up. She had her hair free around her shoulders, thick and curling and shining in the light. She was wearing a gray tank top rocking the Brockton Strong motif with a plaid-patterned golden yellow long-sleeved shirt. The sleeves were rolled up around her elbows, and it was unbuttoned and loosely fitting, looking a size or two too large on her, which was to be expected with her build. The contrast between the well-fitted tank and the oversized shirt was a nice choice. Jeans that actually fit her properly and comfortable-looking running shoes completed her outfit.

  She looked good. Attractive. For as much as she was a self-loathing mess of shit posture and even worse clothing choices, she seemed to be trying to take the constant nagging advice the rest of us girls were badgering her about. I’d tell her to square up and quit hunching at the table. Vicky would tell her the baggy pants weren’t doing her any favors. Crystal practically threw brightly-colored clothing at her in her size. Where she managed to get them, I’ll never know. It was like the girl had a bottomless dumpster of clothing and accessories.

  She was getting better about taking compliments and not shrugging, shirking, or side-stepping them. I think that being in this big social group was doing good things for her internally. Shit was bad, we were packed in here like sardines to provide space and support for the full group that was The Station, but the one thing that we had on lockdown was being there for one another at the drop of a pin. You didn’t ask for help here. Because you didn’t have to. It was provided, without question, and without expectation of payment or reciprocation. That was something core to the group, our rules, and our mission.

  I’d seen to it myself.

  I held my hand out to her, and she walked over from her bed and took it.

  I smiled at her, and she started to smile back.

  Then I yanked her by her hand, pulling her into forward momentum, and prepared to put her in an arm bar.

  Her eyes flared wide, and my smile only grew wider.

  She stepped forward, then brought her weak leg around and kicked the back of my strong leg’s knee, hard. My knee buckled forward, and my alignment for the arm bar was thrown off, keeping me from getting into a control position.

  “Good!” I called out, then hit her with something she hadn’t seen yet, which resulted in me spinning her and wrapping her torso from behind with my arms and upper body.

  Her hair was in my face, and I took a deep inhale. She huffed in response to my antics. I gave her a squeeze and let her go with a laugh. She stepped away and straightened her long-sleeved shirt, which didn’t need it. I stuck my tongue out at her, and she rolled her eyes. Then we headed upstairs to the landing pad access.

  “It’s a good thing you’re getting some muscle memory in, responding without thinking about it, especially when you’ve got your defenses down,” I complimented her as she pushed the door to the roof open.

  “As much as you obsess over training time, I don’t know how I couldn’t have learned something,” she responded, her tone mild.

  Now it was my turn to snort. “By not giving a shit, that’s how. One of the many things I like about you, Taylor. You give a shit about things, even if you don’t think they might be immediately applicable or relevant. You like learning, and you’re smart, so combined with the effort, you pick things up very quickly.”

  We strolled out into the pad, and I got ready to activate my power, which was enthusiastically sloshing around with my outstanding request. I could feel it queued up, my back itching with the desire to warp and change. Taylor turned to look at me, and I pulled my shirt up and slid my arms out of the holes, leaving the shirt around my neck like a scarf.

  Taylor’s cheeks colored brightly, and she quickly averted her eyes.

  “Psh. I’m not even getting naked. Something new today.”

  I allowed the change through. The itching became a blooming heat, and the sensation of downright strange things happening on my mostly bare back. I stood and stared at Taylor, grinning like an idiot. It was uncomfortable more than it was painful, but there was certainly some of the latter present. Four things were growing out of my back, stretching out and enlarging as they went. I knew what they were without looking. There was a handful of pops and crunches, and I rolled my shoulders and worked my shoulder blades when they finished growing out. There were still some muscles and other bits growing and attaching at the base of each wing.

  “Do you do this just for fun, or what?” Taylor asked me after letting her eyes wander.

  “I usually only change myself when I have a practical reason or immediate need for it. It’s rather unpleasant when I don’t take it very, very slowly.” The heat faded, and I gave each of my four insectile wings a flick. I made a fist and flexed my arm. Yeah, check that box as well. Even though I could have dressed up and passed as Phoenix Strike, well, without the wings, there was no comparison. I wasn’t a homo sapiens sapiens under the hood, not remotely. My old body took to changes well, like a trained swimmer doing laps, thanks to a lot of time spent tinkering and experimenting with my power after triggering.

  My new body? The Apex-in-disguise I was currently? It’d be like trying to teach a whale to swim. Swimming, change, was its very nature. And like Apex, under the surface level of Morgan I showed the world, this Morgan facsimile, was built like a machine, purposefully designed for violence under the hood. When I was going about my day in human disguise, my mimicry was exquisite (or so I’m told) and presented the same disadvantages, weaknesses, and vulnerabilities as an average, everyday person. Hit me in the head with a brick, and I’d have my skull smashed, and maybe even die if I couldn’t change back quickly enough.

  But I could juice this human-mimic body when I wasn’t telling it to be primarily concerned with passing itself off as a perfect copy of my old self. The changes were effortless. They still took time, energy, caused discomfort and pain, of course. But the struggle to form a mental image and cohesive idea, and get it to actually work? Gone. I could do anything I wanted in this body. As I was discovering more by the day. Like right now, when I decided human-me was going to go flying with a passenger.

  “Ready?” I asked Taylor. She nodded, and I stepped up close to her. She put her arms around my neck, and lifted her off her feet into a princess carry.

  Then we flew across the city.

  There was far less air to move out of the way, and although it was a little bit of an awkward posture to fly leaning forward, it worked just fine. Part of me wondered if there was any orientation or type of flight these giant dragonfly wings didn’t work in. But now wasn’t the time. One nice thing about this new setup was that getting around was virtually silent compared to Apex flying around. Then again, I suppose the two of us barely even registered in terms of relative mass.

  Taylor was silent. Her hair was blowing over my shoulder, and she was looking out over the city. I knew she had a lot on her mind. I did too. We all did. A tiny part of me, a reedy voice in the back of my head, talked about the what-if scenarios. Things had changed between us very rapidly and rather dramatically. On one hand, I felt like I was closer to her than ever before. On the other hand, her quiet and often introverted nature was atypical of most of my social group and friends, and made me have to play whack-a-mole with internal doubts.

  “You’re pretty relaxed right now. Not afraid I’m going to drop you?” I asked her with a smirk plastered on my face.

  She turned to look at me, her face unimpressed. “You’re a brute, aren’t you? Worried your PRT rating isn’t high enough to carry me?”

  I blinked rapidly at her, and she tilted her head.

  She has no idea, it’s just a coincidence.

  I laughed loudly.

  “What?” She asked, now puzzled.

  “You know, I don’t think I ever told you the details of why I got more-or-less fired, did I?”

  She frowned.

  “Armsmaster denied my Protectorate invitation because my testing scores were too low to merit the slot.”

  “I-”

  I shook my head and snickered. “I know. Don’t spare a thought about it. It was funny to me, though.”

  I took us lower as we approached our destination. Captain’s Hill. The city had just finished the memorial to the Endbringer attack victims, and it opened on Friday. It was now Wednesday, the 25th. We’d talked about going to The Station, but collectively decided not to go as a big group, because we didn’t want to disrupt the experience of the other residents while we were there. It was a somber place, with a beautiful obelisk set up overlooking the city as it sprawled to the north, east, and south, between Captain’s Hill and the waters of the bay.

  Even at the places you’d least expect it, there’d be some too-excited fans breaking decorum, and I wouldn’t put it past that, also including what amounted to a graveyard.

  So we opted to go in small groups on our own. It was more private, too. I didn’t land us right at the memorial, taking us a little deeper into the park, so I didn’t get glares from annoyed housewives for being in my sports bra. We landed, and I tried to get my tank top on around the wings. It really wasn’t going to work, so I wound up pulling them back in and tugging my shirt over my head. With that, we headed for the memorial.

  Being a fairly early weekday afternoon, most people were busy working what jobs they could, where they could, or were caught up otherwise, rebuilding or just plain surviving. There were people coming and going, but not more than two dozen or so at any given point. The obelisk was positioned near one of the scenic overlooks.

  Four-sided, black granite, cut and polished. The top rose to a point, but was roughly hewn and unfinished. It was supposed to symbolize the regrowth and potential the future held for the city. There wasn’t a ceiling keeping us from rising up, however high we liked. The names were carved into the stone and filled with gold leaf.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Taylor and I both walked around the obelisk, reading over the names in detail, commenting on the ones we recognized. I got a bit weepy on more than one occasion. Taylor, for her part, was fairly stoic.

  At least until we rounded the final face to look at it.

  It was all the parahumans who had died. Their cape names, and then their legal names, when it was known and didn’t violate the wishes of their family, or, barring that, close associates.

  There were a lot of names. There were too many names on this memorial, period, but when we came around to the side that had the ‘first’ entries in alphabetical order, it felt like my stomach dropped out of my gut.

  I had been so overwhelmingly busy the past two weeks that I’d done a very successful job of putting these things out of my mind and focusing my attention forward. Right at the top, in the first few entries, was his name.

  Aegis / Carlos Vazquez

  I swayed a little. I needed to sit down. Taylor’s arm hooked around my back. There’d been a moment’s hesitation, then she pulled me in tightly. I rested my head in the space between her shoulder and neck, and I cried my eyes out. Dean’s name had hit me hard. So had Shielder, Vicky, and Amy’s cousin, and Velocity’s names.

  My stupid, empathetic ass even got a little sad seeing Menja’s twin sister on the memorial.

  Fenja / Jessica Biermann

  Menja, Vanessa, was a giant bitch, there was no doubt about that. Stuck up, pampered, spoiled rotten, and used to being lavished with both attention and cash for her frankly stunning good looks. Her and her sister could have very easily been models. Underwear or online models, but still. The fact that they were also very capable fighters with a shared, powerful parahuman ability? One percent of one percent, and she knew it.

  I wasn’t convinced that she’d see reason, and ever truly pull her head out of her backwards-ass ideology. She’d been a pain in my ass basically daily the entire time she’d been living at The Station. But she’d swallowed that enormous pride and asked for help. And despite the fact that we were making her work, and she slept in late and kept getting stuck with kitchen shifts, she still stuck around. Was she using us? Probably. But there was a chance something good would come from it. Not a huge chance, but I’d take what I could get.

  I couldn’t help but picture myself in her boots. How I’d feel if my support network had crumbled around me with constant infighting–something she admitted about the Empire after Kaiser died, although very reluctantly–and my twin had died? I’d be… I’d be fucked up. Bad. So yes, I got a little sniffy seeing even a dumb nazi bitch on the memorial.

  It wasn’t the fact that Carlos had died that was hitting me so bad. And I was properly torn up at the moment, ugly crying. Taylor had shuffled us over to a park bench to sit down, and I leaned into her. What was killing me was that, like after I’d gotten kicked from the team and had to move fast and break things in my personal life, I’d gotten this comfortably numb distance from my former close friends. I wasn’t thinking about them daily, because I had other demanding things on my plate. And I’d done it again. To the same person.

  I drew a shaky breath in, and Taylor squeezed me.

  Her voice was soft, and her breath brushed against my hair. “I don’t know how to ask this right. Sorry. Who was it?”

  “Aegis.” I choked up a little, coughed, and cleared my throat.

  “Carlos. I got along well with everyone on the team. I was the closest with him, with Missy being a fairly close second.” I kept my voice low, partially so I wouldn’t lose my shit again, and to keep sensitive subjects quiet for the sake of security.

  “Carlos was a good guy. A great guy. You never, not for a second, ever had to doubt him having faith in you, or having your back. He’d bend over backwards to help you out, with anything. Gave his all. That’s… that’s so…”

  I tried to put my thoughts together.

  “It’s easy to say, and it sounds cliche, but it’s just the truth. But beyond that stuff, the team stuff, he was just a plain old good person. Compassionate, positive, as happy to see others succeed around him as be successful himself.”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I’m going to miss him. Tears me up thinking what an incredible life and career he had ahead of him, and he just got killed like… some bug. Stepped on. To have been such a bright star, and to be extinguished like that, it’s just, ugh. Hard to swallow.”

  Taylor rubbed my back a little, and I looped an arm around her waist.

  She broke the silence between the two of us. “There was a… guy.” She paused, started, and kept pausing intermittently as she spoke. “He was on his back, in the water. Inhaled some water, maybe. Was drowning, and I was right there. His eyes–”

  I side-hugged her.

  “He was holding out his hands to me, looking at me, my mask lenses. I wanted to help him so badly. I know CPR. I… there was a good chance I could have saved him.”

  She sniffed, but I didn’t look up at her.

  “There was a wave coming. Dragon was counting it down. I didn’t have time. I ran and took cover, saved myself. I told him I was sorry, but the sound of the water coming in, and my mask covering my mouth… There’s no way he heard me or read my lips.”

  She stopped talking for long moments. I squeezed her again, and she returned it with one of her own. I licked my lips. I was afraid I’d gotten some drool on her overshirt when I was crying.

  Why am I suddenly self-conscious about that, of all things?

  “I think about him a lot, and sometimes it wakes me up at night. I didn’t know him. Never met. Didn’t know his name, even. He was the first ah–”

  Her breath hitched.

  “There were others, others who have died since the time I first went out in costume. Some good. Some bad. Some who deserved it, and some innocents. But I think he was the first that… with the situation, you know. I felt like I killed him.”

  I looked up at her, and her eyes were wet under her glasses. She glanced down at me. I placed my free hand on her cheek, gently turned her face towards mine, and tenderly kissed her on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, but I took the opportunity to stare into her eyes. Her cheeks colored, and she didn’t recoil or pull back. I did, then ran my thumb over her lips to wipe a bit of moisture I’d left there. No doubt from the tears.

  She still held me, and I held her; we were close enough face-to-face to kiss, but I searched her eyes instead.

  Just above a whisper, I said: “If you ever dare to hold yourself responsible for the death one of those horrible abominations caused, I’ll beat your ass up so badly you won’t have a choice but to think about nothing but the pain.”

  A tiny smile graced her expressive lips. “Are you certain you’re a hero?” She asked.

  I snorted a little.

  “Besides, I’d rather be distracted thinking about other things.”

  An innocuous enough comment, but I was nearly positive I knew exactly what she might be referring to. I narrowed my eyes at her, and the smile crept further up and into her eyes.

  A girl nearby cleared her throat. It came from behind the park bench, and as I sat upright and wiped at my eyes, I felt the air move next to me, and then someone sat on the bench next to me, opposite Taylor, taking the remaining space.

  I cleared my eyes, dabbed at my nose, then turned.

  She sat with one leg crossed over the other, elbow on the armrest, head resting on her palm, looking as casual and as comfortable as someone sprawling on a couch watching a movie.

  Blonde hair. Freckles. Distinctive green eyes and a big, shit-eating grin.

  Tattletale.

  “You two lovebirds sure do pick strange places to make out.”

  A passing family craned their heads around to look at Lisa. Then at Taylor and I. She was speaking deliberately, just a tad too loudly. Typical.

  I took a deep breath and sighed. Taylor sat in the seat, distancing herself from me, partially to rotate and lean forward to address Lisa.

  “Lisa, I–I’m sorr–”

  Lisa held up a hand and shook her head, tossing her ponytail around like she owned the place.

  I really sincerely hope she doesn’t, actually.

  “I have some things to say, please.” Lisa cut her off. Then she glanced at me purposefully, then back at Taylor.

  Taylor seemed to have a good understanding with Lisa, enough that she was able to partially communicate through body language alone.

  Makes sense, they were teammates.

  “She isn’t going to say anything, and you don’t need to watch your language,” Taylor told Lisa.

  Lisa quirked a brow at Taylor, then glanced over at me. I nodded once in agreement.

  “Well, isn’t that odd? I’m amazed you’re not either running for the hills, hiding your face, or trying to arrest me right now.” Lisa teased, and at a much more appropriate volume.

  “Why would I flee, or arrest you, for that matter?” I asked her.

  She waved a hand in my direction, from head to toe, all with the flick of a wrist. “Isn’t that your whole thing? Big, bad hero, out to stomp out all the baddies, and save the day? And aren’t you going to get in big trouble if this were to get to your bosses?”

  Oh, it’s always a game, isn’t it, Lisa?

  I raised my arms up and wrapped an arm around each of them. Lisa stiffened when I put a hand on her opposing shoulder and pulled her into a tight side-hug.

  “Oh no,” I gasped. “Villain cooties. If I’m not careful, they might turn me gay.”

  Lisa squirmed and tried to get out of my arm, but I didn’t let her. “One of the benefits of being a boss bitch is that I get to do what I want, you know?” I asked her, then I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek, and let both her and Taylor go.

  Lisa immediately scooted back over to her original seated position, and she had a pink hue on her cheeks. It suited her freckles.

  She held up a finger. “Okay, first, I’m not that way. Not any way, actually, as we’ve discussed. Secondly, personal space, thirdly, point about the boss bit, but we both know that isn’t strictly true. You have bosses. Lots of them, and they can hang you out to dry.”

  I nodded amicably at her. “I do. And they can, certainly. But there are costs associated with that, and I’m not sure they’re willing to pay them over a practical joke and things with very plausible deniability.”

  Lisa looked at me long and hard, then her grin grew wider. “Look at you. You’re fitting right in, huh? Getting a feel for things?”

  I bobbed my head again, and Lisa turned back to Taylor.

  “Anyways, what I had to say. Please… bear with me while I get it all out, and we can hash things out after I’ve said what I have to say?”

  Taylor nodded, and Lisa started to explain things to Taylor. A lot of things. Some of which I didn’t like hearing, and she was right about that.

  Of course, a Thinker would be.

  But she seemed to be telling the truth, fully and without a filter, and for that, I’d put up with a lot of things from her.

  She explained that she’d never been fooled by Taylor, not from the first night they’d met. She knew she had planned all along to betray the Undersiders and become a hero. She made a compelling argument that she believed Taylor’s personality wasn’t well aligned with professional heroism.

  I listened in silence, as did Taylor, and she didn’t dwell on that point, moving right along. She’d invited Taylor and argued for her to join the team, and manipulated the others into being more receptive, but had been surprised at how well Taylor had made her own impressions on them, and had fit right in. She said that in the end, she’d decided not to turn Cain on Taylor and expose her for her true motivations, because she felt like they had a real friendship, and that Taylor was far happier in the team than when she hadn’t been. She also fully admitted that they’d benefited hugely from her participation and contributions and would not likely have had quite the degree of success they'd had without her.

  That up until things had gone south, she had been satisfied as her cape self with Skitter on the team, and that it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The last thing she said before finishing her little villain monologue was that while the rest of the team was furious with her, things weren’t the same without her, and there had been some murmurs of her being missed by some parties.

  Taylor asked if Brian was mad at her. Lisa told her that he was, but it was something she could talk him out of easily enough.

  Having said her bit, Lisa hiked an eyebrow at me and commented: “You’re unusually quiet and calm, considering.”

  I tongued the side of my cheek. She wasn’t wrong. I was very level-headed at the moment, and honestly? Felt pretty good after having cried myself silly not long ago.

  “I’d prefer Taylor gets everything off her chest before you and I talk.”

  Lisa tilted her head at me, then fixed her gaze on Taylor. They talked for a long time, just the two of them. Pushing nearly an hour without breaks. I mostly minded my own business, and I had to pull my work phone and answer several calls, send texts, and answer emails to have burned most of the time with my attention focused elsewhere. Hana was kicking ass and covering bases during the day, and I was tagging in overnight and doing my fair share as I learned archaic and obtuse computer systems, protocols, and policies.

  The two shared a surprisingly tender hug when they wrapped.

  “Concerned that I’m going to steal your new recruit back, perverting her to the dark side with the lure of fame and money?” Lisa taunted.

  I shook my head slowly and sat back down, this time swapping places with Taylor, who’d taken my seat when I’d gotten up.

  “You seem confident of that!” She said, like a matter-of-fact.

  “I am. Completely. Although I also understand that she has friends outside the workplace. No, the way I see it, I think Taylor’s been doing amazingly well for herself, considering the circumstances.” I waved a hand towards the overlook and the city.

  Lisa looked like she wanted to argue the point, then gave Taylor a critical once-over. She twisted her lips to one side, then the other, then sighed. “As much as it pains me to say, I have to agree.”

  I shrugged a little at her. “It shouldn’t pain you at all. I think only a relatively small part of it is her new career. I think more has to do with our shared other situation.”

  Lisa grinned a little and turned up one corner of her lips. “Oh? What might that be?”

  I gave her a blank look, but she persisted. “Come on, humor me. Assume I’m clueless.”

  “The Station. We’re building a community-focused group around it. It’s already quite large, I think we’re pushing 200 people. It’s open to anyone– and I do mean anyone provided they can follow the rules and keep out of making trouble inside, or for the community. I find it highly dubious you don’t know anything at all about it.” I crossed my arms.

  “You mean Brockton Strong?” Her question had me wanting to face palm.

  “Yes, she does,” Taylor said, glancing over at me.

  “The word is getting around the city, sure. The branding is good. People like the merch. What’s the story there, anyway? With ‘The Station.’” She air-quoted the last bit. I knew she was doing it just to irritate me.

  “It’s simple. People are in need. We provide. If you want longer-term shelter, need safety from whatever it may be that you’re worried about, or need supplies you might not be able to reliably get elsewhere, we provide them in exchange for work. We have a few odd people who come just to contribute, and that’s nice, but the expectation is community. Everyone contributes, everyone benefits.” I shrugged and leaned back.

  “You know that whole commune thing and tribal society thing doesn’t work at scale, right? And you all are probably getting close to the logistical constraints if your headcount is accurate.” Lisa, of course, couldn’t resist the temptation to poke holes.

  “Lisa, you’re smart outside of just having your special talents. Do you really think that we haven’t thought of this, talked about it, and taken steps to address growth concerns? Or are you just trying to get a rise out of me because this is something I care a lot about?”

  She raised her hands, palms out in mock surrender. “Hey, hey, fair is fair. We all have our passion projects. Just, you know, prepare for classical failure points.”

  Taylor shifted in her seat between us.

  I replied to Lisa. “We have a professional engineering project manager acting as the general manager of the place. She’s good at what she does. We’ll do what we can to prevent failure, but the way I see it? If we fail, it’s going to be because we’re too successful and we’ve met and exceeded the needs of people, and they have nice places to go back and move into, and jobs to work when we’re all done.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” That was all Lisa said.

  “I have a better point and question for you, Miss Woman-Who-Knows-Everything.” I wasn’t too sarcastic saying it.

  Lisa’s grin deepened, and she sat forward. “You know I love shameless bribery, feed me more and I’ll play along.”

  “Two points. You think I’m worried about you stealing Taylor away, but you have it precisely backwards. I think you should go back to your team and ask them why I haven’t seen any of them at the Station. And I’m serious. Ask them.” I tried to keep the pride out of my voice, but I just couldn’t.

  Lisa batted her eyelashes at me innocently and asked: “And why would they ever want to do anything like that, considering who owns it, lives there, and works there?”

  I dropped the tone of my voice, and I leaned forward, nearly directly in front of Taylor. I made eye contact with her and held it. “Go on. Use your power, if you aren’t already. Use it and tell me that I’m bullshitting you or that I actually give a single fuck if a member of the Undersiders came into the Station, assuming they’re going to follow the rules. Come, spend two hours volunteering, have an actual hot meal, and watch a movie or play some games with your volunteer currency. Can you? Can you tell me I’m lying?”

  She pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on her lap. “Well… no, you seem pretty certain of that. But that doesn’t mean that other people you know won’t capitalize on it.”

  I held my position. “They do that, and I’ll bounce their face off the team meeting room table. I’m making changes. And as far as I’m concerned, there are a bunch of people in The Bay that I’d like to see put straight on a reform path and able to make a graceful exit from their current status to something else. Maybe that’s the other team. Maybe it’s something else entirely.”

  I leaned back. Lisa maintained eye contact. “You’re not the final call on many decisions. You can, and likely would, be overruled or outmaneuvered.”

  Taylor cleared her throat. “You might be surprised about that, too, actually.”

  Lisa cocked a brow at Taylor. “Oh?”

  Taylor nodded. “The PRT Director of East Northeast is… rather shockingly pragmatic, actually. Supposedly, even within the PRT, she’s considered a bit of an outlier. A new team member told me about one of the other Directors. Much less open-minded on this subject in particular.”

  The drumming of Lisa’s fingertips resumed. She was flicking her eyes between the two of us. I wondered to what extent Lisa was leveraging her power right now. Taylor had likened it to extreme cold reading, on steroids. Finally, she said: “So you’re what, making a place that’s open door, all welcome, no questions asked? You think villains with any kind of rap sheet will go for that? And furthermore, that you’re not going to wind up getting someone, or a whole group of people, killed in the process?”

  “Of course it’s not no-questions-asked. We ask tons of questions. I’m not going to let some unrepentant cape serial killer in to do whatever the fuck they want,” I responded a bit testily.

  “And who gets to make those decisions? You?” Lisa asked, her own tone pushing back against mine.

  I shook my head. “It’s a group decision. The group is a mix of the capes and non-capes. When it comes to another cape, specifically, it’s made by the group of people who would be responsible for handling any issues or incidents. So security team members and cape members.”

  We had to hold the conversation as a mid-sized group of people walked past. The sun was beating down, and it was getting downright muggy out as the time ticked on.

  “No comment on that, then. Seems decent enough, if a bit naive,” Lisa said after the group had gotten out of earshot.

  “Maybe if we had a non-specialist Thinker to act as a judge of character, and help make decisions as to who is up to no good and who isn’t.” I quipped.

  Taylor held her chest and coughed lightly.

  “What was the other point? You said you had two, then went off on a rant about your wonderland project,” Lisa asked.

  I glanced at Taylor, making eye contact briefly. Her face was impassive. I looked back at Lisa. “Lisa, I will tell you this respectfully. I don’t mind the sarcasm and some of your antics, but don’t be a dismissive, pessimistic bitch to me about what I work on and care about if you aren’t willing to put up or shut up.”

  Lisa had an excellent poker face. She was a very skilled liar. I still caught the change in coloration of her cheeks with a blush that most wouldn’t notice. I’d hit home with that one, and she didn’t like it.

  “The other thing would probably be best talked about elsewhere, and not when we’re coming off verbally jousting with one another. Needless to say, it’s concerning the future of you and your teammates if you are planning on staying in the city. And no, it’s not to deliver some ultimatum or lay a trap. I want to have a conversation. A real conversation. And to be clear, there’s a distinction between this and the other thing we talked about.”

  Lisa cocked her head, and Taylor nodded along, already knowing what I was getting at. She’d been part of these conversations herself. “The Station’s doors are open to you all as people. If you want to reside, if you want to volunteer for exchange of goods or services, or if you simply want to socialize where you don’t have to worry about other things. You wouldn’t be the first people on 'team black-hat' to walk in and leave freely, or to live there, for that matter.”

  Lisa’s eyes narrowed, just marginally. But I was watching her like a fucking hawk. Just as she was watching me. Not out of an expectation or apprehension of sudden moves, but in a close study of the other for tells and information. Signs we were bullshitting, or being evasive. “And who might that be?”

  I leaned in once again to drop my voice. “Am I going to get anything in return for giving you information you’re sure to use to your own ends and profit off?”

  Her lips tilted up, her head tilted down, and she looked at me through her lashes. “Oh, now you’re speaking my language. Let’s say I have maybe heard a thing or two concerning your pet project through the grapevine.”

  I nodded slowly and looked at Taylor. I tried to ask her if Lisa was liable to fuck me with only my eyes. Taylor looked at me, looked at Tattletale–and that’s certainly who I was talking to–then back to me. She said, “Just tell her anyway.”

  “The remaining giantess twin deserted. We’re giving her shelter. I honestly can’t tell you if it’s desertion or a long con or something else, but we’ve been keeping a tight watch over her. We know she’s still meeting with one of them, and who, but everything we have seen is that she’s not acting as a spy.”

  Tattletale maintained her grin. “And to what ends?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t pretend to know. Maybe she wants a place to be a royal pain in the ass and demand that she be given expensive luxuries in relative comfort. Maybe she disappears one day of her own volition and never returns. Maybe she gives up the cape life. Or she goes back. The point is, I’m letting her make that decision for herself. If she fucks around and tries to screw the community, I’ll make her life hell. If she just wants to piss me off personally? She can take a ticket. Either way, the one place she isn’t right now is with her old crew, doing the sorts of shit they normally do. Worst case, it’s still a win for me.”

  Somehow, and I honestly don’t know how, she managed to make that grin even larger, and even more devilish. Then she patted her hands on her thighs and straightened up. She let out a theatrical huff and looked over at Taylor. They shared some kind of a look between themselves.

  “She’s better at this than I thought she would be. You see a big, dumb-looking bimbo Barbie flying around, smashing things, you know, you draw quick conclusions.” Lisa said to Taylor.

  Taylor rocked her head from side to side, thinking. “I know she plays some things for effect, but yeah. She is good at it. She’s good at quite a bit. You two would get along.”

  Lisa stuck her tongue out of her mouth as far as it would go and made dry-heaving motions and quiet gags.

  “Careful, you’ll catch flies like that. Or lesbians,” I told her. “You’re practically flaring your tail feathers and strutting around for them by doing that.”

  “You’d know,” Lisa said with a smile. And it was back to Lisa. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a sequence and made a few gestures. Both of the phones in my pocket vibrated. I pulled them out and accepted the contact card. “In case it’s needed. Don’t read into it, Bird Bitch.”

  Taylor groaned.

  Lisa stood up, stretched, and shook her legs out individually. “Suppose it’s time to get back to work for me. Oh, and Morgan?”

  I stood up and readied my wings for the flight back, holding the change at the ready for when we left the immediate area. I looked at Lisa. “Two things. I will pass on the message- both of them.” She stepped closer as Taylor stood, like she wanted to bring it in for a group hug. I threw an arm over her shoulder, then Taylor's. She groaned loudly.

  While she was doing her antics, she whispered between the three of us. “Empire remnants attack the station tomorrow after sundown. They’re down some of their hardest hitters to another fracture, but it’s still a sizeable number of cape bodies, some of which are dangerous.”

  I grunted. “You have a timeframe or window, list, body count, or anything else?”

  “Just that it’s all they can muster, and it’s after sundown. They’re planning on cleaning you out for everything that is or isn’t bolted down.” She looked over at me and sniffed. “I was probably going to tell you either way. After all, it’s good for the competition to fight amongst themselves.”

  Taylor smacked her on the back, and she snickered.

  I looked at Lisa and told her: “The only way we’re competing with the Undersiders is in the bad bitch count, and even then, only because one of your members runs a pound.”

  Her eyes rolled so hard I thought she’d lose her balance.

  Taylor was grinning from ear to ear.