I’m hungry.

  No, you’re not, because I’m not hungry.

  Don’t tell me that I’m not hungry when I am. Let’s order another pizza and more wings! Oh, and soda. I want soda, too. And breadsticks. Marinara sauce, garlic butter, and honey mustard for dipping. Get the cheesy, crusty ones. Maybe a double order with plain ones for variety.

  I’m not–

  Oh my god, I bet they have cannolis or cheesecake too. I’ll destroy a whole-ass cheesecake.

  Are you trying to kill me!? Err… us?

  Oh, boo-hoo, I gained weight and don’t look like a skeleton anymore, whatever will I do?

  That isn’t what I meant! And you know I was talking about the gastric distress, too.

  Sounds like a you problem, I don’t have any issues.

  Because you’re cheating!

  Just because you can’t use my ability doesn’t mean that it’s cheating when I do. That’s sore loser talk.

  You’re such a bitch. How did anyone ever like you?

  Style, pizzazz, looking damn good, and knowing it. Having social skills, friends, and allies. You know, all of that, plus a whole bunch of other stuff.

  I hate how smug you always are with me.

  Yeah, well, walk a mile in my shoes, sister, and you might have some of that yourself.

  I rubbed my face and groaned.

  You don’t even wear shoes! You’re a giant fucking…

  Go on, finish the sentence.

  …Superhero.

  Uh-huh. We both know where that was going originally. It’s fine, though. I own it. It’s not a costume. Playing dress-up human is the disguise. The sooner you realize that truth about yourself, the sooner you’ll start making some progress of your own.

  I’m not like you. We’re not the same.

  No, we’re not. You’re the me with all the interesting parts cut out. The hard parts of my life? The pain, the misery, the self-loathing. Poof. Not knowing who you even are on the inside anymore. Losing your mind so hard you thought life was a big game. The swerve in my life that closed so many doors and opened so many others. The powers and all that brought, both good and bad.

  I–I didn’t choose this. Stop taking all your… shit out on me!

  The other me in my head went quiet when I snapped back at her. I could still feel her lurking, this presence in there somewhere, watching what I was doing, experiencing what I experienced. Backseat driving. I knew because I’d experienced it myself when we swapped places, and I stayed alert and awake.

  The late nights where she’d come out and order takeout, then gorge herself on food that’d feed a family of four. I could feel her doing things with her ability when she did. The feelings squicked me out. Feeling parts of your body that you normally don’t feel. Things that were supposed to be fixed in place, now shifting around. It made me cringe internally when she did it, but for her, it was second nature.

  Not to mention her near-obsessive, furious scrolling on my phone as she browsed through PHO wiki pages, old forum board postings, and news articles dating back years. Trying to make up for lost time.

  It all seemed so… technical, and nerdy, but also filled with rumor and nonsense, not to mention boring. I attempted to follow along while she was doing it, but I lacked context for so many different things. I asked questions to try and learn, but she’d make annoyed growling sounds at me, in our head.

  She was short-tempered and irritable in general, and seemed like a grumpy, bitchy pain in the ass.

  I was in the apartment currently, and was looking through rental properties on a borrowed laptop. I… enjoyed staying here. And the sex was amazing, to put it lightly. It was nice, feeling like I had friends and lovers near me, but at the same time, I still felt slightly out of alignment with them. They’d make jokes, and I wouldn’t get the context. Be it about cape life things or past events. I’d be sitting there awkwardly smiling. Sometimes other me would explain it, but then it wasn’t funny.

  I looked up from the laptop and out the big windows at the skyline of the city. Late afternoon sun, Taylor would likely be home in a couple of hours, and Amy at some point later. Taylor hadn’t been joking when she said that Amy was a workaholic. They both were, which made that description even harder-hitting to me. Taylor was at least here within a somewhat normal hour, on the days when she wasn’t doing night patrols, or training, or meetings, or whatever else it was that she did. Here physically, but not always mentally.

  She might as well have been epoxied to her phone, and there was usually some status light blinking for unread messages, emails or alerts.

  She did make time for me. To mostly unplug. One thing I’d learned was that cape life never ceased. They were always permanently on-call, even if they technically weren’t. It seemed like the only time they got any real separation from work was when they took vacations and physically distanced themselves from their respective workplaces.

  On one hand, I pitied them. The thought of being that wired in, all day, every day? It terrified me.

  On the other hand, part of me longed to be as needed as they apparently were.

  The other night, Taylor and I had been watching an imported film together and snuggled up on the couch. It was very nice, then her phone rang. She picked it up and answered, “Hebert.” There was the chatter of energetic voices on the other end, then she just went, “Turn the reactor down to fifteen percent output. If alarms are still lit in 15 minutes, call me back. Bye.”

  I just gawped at her with my mouth open, like a fish out of water.

  “Don’t worry, they’re probably not going to level the downtown area,” she’d teased.

  She didn’t get a second call, but it’d ruined the mood and my ability to remain immersed in the film. I was constantly reminded of just how… important all these people around me were.

  And it made me feel like shit, if I was being honest with myself. Guilty. Like, I didn’t deserve their time and attention. When I brought it up, they tended to swat away the idea and insisted that they wanted to be there and do things with me. The doubt and guilt still crept around in my head, though. Among other things. The place was feeling downright crowded at times.

  It’s four thirty. We need to get ready to go.

  The other me, Apex, was back. I wanted to think of her as me, just slightly different, but even through the condescension and smug arrogance directed my way, I could still tell that she had a point.

  What? Why? Where?

  Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually paying attention when I’m in the driver’s seat, or if you are just daydreaming and fucking off back there.

  Listen, once again, I don’t need or appreciate the attitude. I try to pay attention, but I don’t have half a clue what you’re working on at times, and it all blurs together.

  She growled at me in what I was learning was a quiet way.

  I texted Lily yesterday about stopping over to visit our sister today. Plus, I’m going stir crazy, being cooped up in here, and in here. Nice view or not, I want to get out and stretch my wings.

  I blinked rapidly and uttered “Buh… wha?”

  Relax, princess. Just a figure of speech. You know I’m trying to keep things on the down low, and soaring around through the air, while more common than it used to be, still draws more attention than I want right now.

  I feel like you have ulterior motives you’re not telling me about.

  Always do, babe. Get used to it. Now, do you want to get dressed and drive us over there, or should I?

  I’ll take care of that, thank you very much.

  Apex seemed entirely way too happy to wear clothing that I felt like I’d die of shame wearing around. As if it was just an afterthought to put on something decent, and not dress like she just walked out of a dumpster dive in pyjamas.

  The address is in the message history. We’ll need to take a bus or hire one of those fancy phone-taxi people.

  A bus will work just fine.

  Could always text Victoria. I’m sure she’d love to fly us over and visit.

  I blushed just at the thought.

  Too easy.

  I wound up picking out a cream-colored skater dress with floral print and short sleeves, along with a pair of black leggings and ankle boots with a low heel. The leggings helped my insecurities with how my legs looked by masking them with the dark color and matte fabric. I liked the low heel, too. It felt like everyone in my immediate circle was so damn tall.

  The bus ride over was fairly uneventful; it seemed like it was mostly office workers and commuters riding out to their homes or the cheaper parking areas. Their place wasn’t terribly far, on the outer rim of the downtown area. If I was in better shape, I’d have considered walking over and back. Right now, I don’t trust myself to arrive without wobbly noodle legs.

  The building was another high-rise apartment tower, but not nearly as shiny or exclusive as the one Taylor rented. Or was it Amy’s place? I wasn’t actually certain. Regardless, it was still a well-maintained and nice-looking building, very modern and stylish, and probably significantly more affordable. All I knew was that the PRT must have paid pretty well, because nothing even remotely near here was anywhere in the price ranges I’d been looking at, even for tiny studios.

  Alright, princess. I’ll take over from here.

  I did what I could best describe as a mental shrug-and-shuffle and stepped back. She, Apex, took my spot seamlessly. I could still hear, feel, taste, and everything else, but rather than being the one to will my arm to move, I instead just felt my arm move itself. It was weird, but not nearly as weird as I’d have expected it to be? The whole backseat driver thing really summed it up pretty well.

  I put my hand into my handbag and pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and scrolled up a few pages on the text dialogue with Lily. There was a seven-digit code and instructions. I punched the number in and hit the green button next to the keypad. A tone, then a phone ringing on speaker, fairly loudly. A moment later, it picked up, and Lily’s voice asked: “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Morgan,” I said.

  “Oh, hey! You made really good time! One sec, I’ll buzz you in, and then you’re taking the elevator right in the front to nineteen, left out the door, then right at the tee.”

  “Buzz, front, nineteen, left, right, got it.”

  An obnoxiously loud tone played from the keypad speaker, and I pulled the door open and stepped inside the lobby. Bulletin boards, mailboxes, and a front desk were the only really notable things. I followed the instructions and a few minutes later was walking down a hallway with Lily’s head peeking out of one doorway and waving at me. Us. Her. Whatever.

  I smiled and waved back, and she stood aside to let us into a cozy combined kitchen, dining room, and living room.

  I unzipped my ankle boots and left them by the door with the other footwear, and Lily started speaking while showing me to a seat on the sectional. “So we’re on different shifts currently at work, she’s working earlier, and I’m covering the graveyard, but there’s a couple of hour overlap here in the late afternoons.”

  I was looking around at photographs, newspaper clippings, and what looked like promotional materials that were hung on the walls all around the livingroom. It was mostly Eclipse and Flechette, but there were some Melody and Lily present, too. One front-page newspaper headline caught my eye, hung in a large frame, so it was fully visible.

  Dynamic Duo Continues Streak! Broken Teeth Everywhere!

  A big woman was standing between Eclipse and Flechette, wearing what could best be described as wasteland cannibal biker gang shit. One part tactical rigging, one part samurai armor, lots of leather and even more bones, teeth and skulls–most of which appeared human. A kabuto-style helmet was strapped on her head, and she had on a lower face mask that was styled like a fire-breathing oni’s mouth. Only parts of her upper face and eyes were visible, and she was staring at the camera in a look that said pure hatred.

  A bulky black polymer collar shaped like an omega symbol with LED lights on it was affixed around her neck, and she had on a pair of clearly brute-rated cuffs. I wasn’t sure if she was flexing or straining against the cuffs in the photo, or if she was just jacked.

  She looked scary as all hell.

  I let out a low whistle and thumbed in the direction of the newspaper. “Wow, look at you two. That must have been a hell of a day and a celebration afterwards, huh?”

  Lily rubbed the back of her neck, and her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, it really was. We both got a lot of recognition for doing a live capture on Butcher Fifteen. Everyone was on edge while they were being transferred, but they were successfully committed to the Birdcage. That’s when we cut loose and threw a party.

  She bounced in place, her eyes lighting up as she recounted: “You should have seen it! We were all pretty well fucked up by this point, but Squealer and Deadlock got into an argument that turned into a twerk-off, and Weld was nominated to be the judge!”

  I broke into a grin and chuckled along. Lily’s energy felt infectious, even to me, in the back seat.

  I remember seeing you reading up on Squealer, but who’s Deadlock?

  Do you remember Clockblocker? Probably not, if I had to guess.

  I saw him in the museum. White costume with the clocks on it?

  She’s a her now. Deadlock is her cape name, Desiree her civilian name.

  Lily fell back against the couch cushions and wet her lips. “So… does this mean you’ve gotten your memories back? Or…” she trailed off.

  I held out my hand and rocked it from side to side. “Bits and pieces, but it seems to be coming back to me. I’ve been reading up on things too, and that’s helped jog things a little.”

  Why are you lying to people you trust about this? If anyone’s going to have your back, isn’t it going to be them?

  My mouth was moving, and I was conversing back and forth with Lily, but my attention was more focused on this inner dialogue between us.

  I didn’t get her, but I wanted to. Maybe… she wanted to get me too, even if she was shitty about showing it.

  You’ve never been inside a parahuman asylum before. I have. Trust me when I say that it’s not someplace you want to be forced to live in.

  But I’m not crazy, and neither are you? My inner voice was expressing the confusion I felt pretty well at the non-sequitur.

  You might not be crazy, princess, but let me be the first to tell you the bad news: us parahumans? Not all one hundred percent with it, if you catch my drift. We’re cracked. Damaged goods.

  So you’re not telling them, because you think that they’re going to throw you in an asylum for being mentally ill? Even though you’re like, beloved and famous? And stop calling me princess!

  What am I supposed to call you? Snowflake? Daisy? Rice in a icestorm? The Ghost of Christmas Pas–

  How about my name? Morgan?

  Yeah, because that won’t be confusing. I’m sticking with princess for now.

  Whatever. Get back to the topic.

  I’m not the one derailing it, now am I?

  Oh my god, I want to strangle you right now.

  Heh. Anyways. Let’s say that I go around telling everyone I trust that I remember everything and I’ve got my power back. What then?

  I don’t know, I guess you could… go back to doing hero stuff sometimes, and we can take turns, as we have been.

  Uh-huh. And heroes have what?

  A job?

  Yes, but not what I was asking.

  Costumes?

  No, dummy! Enemies! Heroes have enemies, usually of the villain sort, but sometimes regular-ass folk, too. Now what? You’re taking your turn, and someone pulls their hand out of their pocket and shoots a freaking laser out of their palm at you unexpectedly. Except you’re, well, you. So instead of being cool and getting thrown through a wall like me, you just… break in half, and die. The end.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I mused on that a moment. I hadn’t really been spending a lot of time thinking about the future implications of this predicament.

  Here lies Morgan Two, she’s remembered and loved by her friends and family. Rest in pieces. She died as she lived, falling apart.

  I’m still thinking. And that’s rude.

  Well, while you’re still thinking about that, here’s something else to stuff in your pipe and smoke. What happens if I tell everyone I’m back and I’m doing super cool shit with my power, and everything’s peachy? Then one day, you wake up, and I’m not here anymore. And you don’t have a power, and you also can’t remember all this stuff you’re supposed to know.

  Not here? Where would you go? What, like, you just split off on your own, or something? Is that even possible?

  Maybe back to where I came from, if the prison warden finds out I’m missing. And I don’t know if it’s possible or not. Not to mention the MAJOR ISSUE that might come up if I figured out how to do it.

  You know I’m not in the know about all the laws, rules, and regulations you learned in your life as a cape.

  Unrestricted self-replication, as in, not temporarily or a mirror image or something? Bird. Cage. Or worse.

  What could be worse than being put in the Birdcage?

  They’re called Kill Orders, and all you need to know is in the name.

  Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? It’s not like you’d be using that ability and going around stealing from art galleries, or something.

  Overreacting? Maybe. Not everyone is buddy-buddy with me. There were people in the PRT who pretty much hated my fucking guts outright; they just couldn’t do anything about it. Politically, too. The point is, you don’t buy a box of bullets and then go put them in the magazines of your enemy’s guns, silly girl.

  I… I hesitated for a moment.

  I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with that, and that you feel like you need to fear for your career or life.

  Eh? Don’t be. I chose the life, and I’d choose it again. It’s the only thing I give a shit about in terms of career and all that jazz.

  It still sucks for you.

  Heh. Life sucks, but you’ve only dipped your toes into the shallow end of the pool. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been through some shit too, but girl, trust me when I say this: you don’t know the half of it. And that’s a good thing.

  Gears were turning in my head as I chatted with… myself, and as my self chatted with Lily.

  In all the photos I’d seen of her, she was always smiling and happy. Even the pictures of her as Apex, the fearsome beast, were sort of goofy. Had she just been faking all of it? Miserable and pessimistic on the inside, bright and smiling on the outside?

  Maybe it would just be best to ask her?

  Morgan?

  Yes, Morgan? See! Confusing! Yes, princess?

  I thought about the difference in our hair colors.

  I’m silver, and you’re gold. I’m awesome, and you’re mold.

  Oh my god. I always knew my banter game was bad, but is this how bad I used to be? Karma really is a bitch!

  Yeah, but names. My hair’s silver. Yours is gold.

  Eh? Works for me–but only because gold is so much more valuable.

  Yeah, yeah. Anyways, uh, Gold?

  Yesss, Silver?

  In all the photos and stuff I’ve seen of you, you always seemed really bright and happy. Were you uh… You know, faking it?

  Hah! Hahaha! She started cackling. I felt embarrassed at asking, as it was, and her response was like throwing gasoline on that fire.

  Ugh, nevermind.

  Hah! Hoo. No, I looked happy because I was happy. Are you kidding me? Being alive is fucking amazing! There are some things you can’t appreciate until you feel like you’ve lost them, or wasted the opportunity. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, yadda yadda.

  But I don’t… I feel like I still don’t really understand what you mean by that.

  Mmm. I suppose you should know, but not now. Not here. This isn’t the time or place for it. I have some ideas I want to test out, too. Later.

  Okay. Do you know how long you’ll be over here?

  Probably not too terribly long. I need to talk with my–our sister briefly, and then I’m going to scratch that pizza itch. Carbs, here I come! I’m craving some New York style with big, greasy pepperonis so bad right now, you don’t even KNOW.

  There was a thump outside the apartment door, and then keys rattling in the lock.

  Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

  Lily stood up with a smile on her face. I did too, and the two of us made our way over to the entryway of the apartment while Melody lugged in a heavy-looking backpack.

  I saw the look on her face shift when she saw me. A slight crease of her brow, her lips thinning, and the corners leveling out from where they’d been upturned a moment ago.

  “You didn’t tell me–” she started to say while glancing over at Lily.

  “Surprise!” Lily exclaimed.

  Meanwhile, my face was decidedly neutral.

  Melody gave Lily a definitive chat later look, and I stepped forward to greet Melody. She stood and squared up a bit, looking down her nose just a touch at me.

  Crack!

  Before I had a chance to take stock of what was going on, I’d slapped the shit out of Melody, square across the cheek. My right hand felt like someone dipped it in fuel and lit it on fire.

  Melody’s hand came up to clutch her cheek, and she slowly turned back to face me. Her black eyes were boring into mine. Meanwhile, I stood there with a freaking sneer plastered on my face.

  The room was totally silent, save for the sounds of some kids chattering down the hall being muffled by the heavy front door.

  I leaned in and stuck my index finger straight up in her business, inches away from her nose. The sound coming out of me sounded like it was half snarl, half growl, and all rage. “If you ever repeat what you said at Mom and Dad’s house again, I’ll fuck you up so bad that you’ll need a body cast just to avoid oozing all over the place like a boneless flesh-blob. So help me, Melody, I’ll fucking do it!”

  I thought I was dead. Melody’s face was frozen in a look of outrage for what felt like an eternity. It was probably two seconds in actuality.

  Then her eyes welled up, and she bear-hugged me so tightly I thought my ribs were going to shatter, leaving my toes dangling off the floor. Then she sobbed right in my ear and made a noise similar to what I felt a dying buffalo might sound like.

  “Morgan!” She warbled.

  “Ah! Put me down, you titty monster oaf!”

  She sniffle-laughed and put me down gently. My hand was transitioning from a burning to a slow, steady superheated throbbing sensation. While she unwrapped her arms from around my torso, she transitioned to holding me by my shoulders.

  “It’s you. It’s really you!” She was rapidly blinking tears out of her eyes, and mascara was running down her cheeks.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Sorta. I still have a lot of potholes all over the place, and some are more like… mine shafts.” I felt Gold do that thing, and there was a stirring sensation in my chest, followed by a warmth that radiated down my inner arm to my hand. The insistent throbbing eased away quickly afterward.

  We settled in shortly after Melody apologized, and I practically rode her ass for being a hasty, judgmental bitch. The three of us decided to catch up over dinner and ordered a meat trio pizza, a pepperoni pizza, and a veggie lover’s with several sides. Delivery was quick, and I thought Lily’s eyes were going to pop out of her head as I sat there and destroyed the pepperoni pizza, as well as most of the sides.

  I kept urging Gold to slow down and take it easy, lest I spend the remainder of the evening dying on the toilet back at home. She did the thing again with her power and told me it’d be fine.

  I learned about the roster of the current Protectorate team in the city, as well as the Wards, as I talked shop with both Melody and Lily, both of whom were perfectly happy to talk about that sort of thing.

  Armsmaster had been forcibly retired from the PRT and lost his benefits and pension for what he’d done in the Leviathan attack. He’d managed to avoid any criminal charges and had been offered a position with The Guild, which had a small office here in Brockton Bay, where he now operated under the name Defiant, along with Dragon. They were usually referred to as D & D, seemed nearly inseparable, and–despite being based here–didn’t operate locally all that much.

  Miss Militia had resumed leadership of the team and maintained it through to the present. She was cool, collected, and was better about listening to her subordinates–including the Wards–than Armsmaster had been. By all accounts, she was an excellent leader, a good boss, and genuinely gave a shit about her teams.

  Both Skitter and Eclipse had a friendly rivalry for the number two position. Melody admitted that she thought that Taylor was more of a natural leader, but felt like she needed to compete with her over it to ‘keep her in check.’ They briefly glossed over some of their accomplishments, and both of them had what sounded like an impressive resume. Two Endbringer battles each, both of which were kills. Taylor had taken charge of a small team and ran out members of The Fallen that had been slinking around in town, although they failed to capture any. They’d apparently attacked when most of the local team was deployed to New York for a major battle.

  Melody and Lily had fought The Teeth, the gang of parahumans and groupies that followed The Butcher, and then had successfully captured the Butcher, which had been previously thought to be all but impossible. It had been thanks to some custom tinkertech that Dragon and Defiant had helped make, the weird collar around her neck in the photograph. Apparently, a limited-run set of devices that emitted a Trump-type effect field in a very tiny radius, and one that dampened abilities. The tech was, unfortunately, inherently unstable, ungodly expensive to make, and unable to be replicated by tinkers who specialized in that sort of thing. After a major legal scuffle by parahuman rights organizations, manufacture had been outlawed, and the remaining units–around a dozen–were shelved and only cleared for use on Birdcage or Kill Order targets.

  Dragon had been quite pushy about keeping non-lethal options available for so-called lost cause cases. Good for her for having strong moral principles.

  Vista was third on the totem pole as far as pecking order went. Despite being nineteen, she was practically a grizzled veteran by parahuman standards for the sheer amount of action she’d seen. I’d told Melody and Lily that I was looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with her.

  Close friend of yours?

  Like a kid sister, yeah. We were tight-knit in the Wards when I was a member.

  Deadlock was doing well. Much better now that she’d figured out the root cause of her depression.

  Kid Win had kept the name despite graduating to the Protectorate and had rather dramatically improved his tinkering skills. He’d taken a few years off after graduating from high school to be a hero, but was now enrolled at university and doing a lighter workload on the team as a result.

  Weld, who had been a temporary transfer to fill the holes in the Wards roster, had ultimately decided to stay on here instead of transferring back to Boston or elsewhere in the United States. According to Lily, both Miss Militia and Director Piggot had practically broken the speed record with approvals when he applied.

  What’s his deal, anyway? I asked Gold.

  Fellow Changer and Brute cape. Excellent with PR, good people skills, does all his paperwork the same day. He’s powerful, good-looking, and dependable. Basically, a Director’s dream cape. Oh yeah, he’s virtually indestructible and doesn’t get injured either, so there’s that.

  Cute?

  Yeah, in a valedictorian sort of way. Jawline that could cut glass, in more ways than one.

  There were two new additions to the team that Gold was full of questions about.

  One was Squealer, who was a vehicle-based tinker, a former gang member, and a former literal meth-head. Gold had saved her life after she’d been left for dead by the Slaughterhouse Nine in a ditch. Missing limbs, bleeding to death, and, if she managed to survive that long enough, would have burned to death. She’d been slapped with a probation agreement instead of prison, forced to clean up, and amazingly, found a place on the team after she’d served her required time. Both Lily and Melody had found it impressive that she’d come as far as she had. Something about not having support structures in her life and some truly shitty influences.

  Lifeline was the last member on the roster and the newest addition. She was formerly a Case 53 that Gold had visited in a parahuman asylum named Sveta. She had finally managed to get her body under control enough to leave Asylum East and applied to become a member of the Wards in Brockton Bay. She was conditionally accepted and used a hollow prosthetic body, animated by her true body–composed of whiplike tentacles–inside. They’d eased her into things, starting her off with smaller tasks and assignments and letting her work her way up as she built her skills and confidence. Now, she had an actual body, courtesy of Ambrosia, and had graduated to the Protectorate team.

  I’d asked about openings and availabilities, which prompted a question about my–Gold’s–abilities. She’d answered that she felt like she could do some very minor things, but was hesitant to try to push things too quickly. Melody had explained that the PRT East Northeast was now one of the better-funded branches in the country, and that they had multiple free slots on both the Protectorate and Wards teams. There was one person who was under consideration for the Protectorate team presently, but neither of them had much in the way of details on that, as it was still in early talks.

  We also touched on the Wards team as well, since it’d come up, and I’d been interested. The team was currently six members, most of which were in their mid-to-late teens.

  There was Mirage, who was a Tinker who made physical holograms that she projected from different devices. Copycat was a Stranger and Changer, who shapeshifted into different people and was very stealthy. Fulcrum was a Trump who could amp up his teammates and allies. Apogee was a Shaker with a Striker rating who manipulated gravity in an area or by touch. Wattson was a Striker with electrical abilities and some tinkertech gadgets. And then finally, Sidewinder, who was a reptilian Case 53 with a grab-bag spread of abilities that ranged from enhanced senses and reflexes to being venomous.

  “Hmm…” I tapped my chin with an index finger. “Interesting spread of abilities on the new Wards team. Sounds like they could benefit from another member or two, though. Six isn’t many to cover rotations.”

  Melody bobbed her head a few times. “Yeah, but things have changed, too. I am honestly sort of envious, because it was just total chaos my first like… year and a half in the Protectorate. I’d rather them have a lighter workload, instead of being totally swamped like we were.”

  Lily chimed in, saying, “We have more assistance from other teams as well, which helps reduce the overall workload by a noticeable amount. New Wave is doing better than ever. Brockton Strong doesn’t usually get involved, but if there’s ever stuff like natural disasters or larger-scale incidents, they’re available. The Guild has their mini-branch here, then there’s Haven and RSI, although RSI is practically a ghost.

  “RSI? Why does that name vaguely ring a bell?” I asked.

  Melody scrunched up her face, and her cheek was still a few shades rosier on the side Gold had slapped. “I’m going to keep it real. They’re a paramilitary corporation for both unpowered and parahumans. You rarely see them. When you do, they show up, act like their shit doesn’t stink, then go right back off to wherever they came from. One of them visits Director Piggot somewhat regularly, but I do not like them. Seriously bad vibes from the whole lot.”

  “Huh. I still can’t quite place it, but I’m nearly positive I remember reading about them, or something.” I shrugged my shoulders and took the final few swigs of the 20 oz. soft drink I’d been drinking with dinner.

  Lily glanced at her phone, then sighed. “I have to get ready to head in in a few minutes,” she said regretfully, then leaned over and kissed my sister on the cheek.

  I slid my chair back and stood up, my joints protesting and popping as I did. “I need to get going as well. Ever since the diner incident, Taylor gets antsy when I’m out after dark.”

  “Can I give you a ride back?” Melody asked, covering her mouth and stifling a yawn.

  “What? No, I’m completely fine. You look like you’re less than an hour from passing out sitting upright. The buses run until one in the morning, and it’s not even eight yet,” I told her rather firmly.

  She nodded and watched Lily walk into the other room to get ready.

  “Just roommates, huh?” I asked her quietly enough for the two of us.

  She just rolled her eyes at me, then gave me a once-over.

  “Nice outfit. How are you not lugging a food-baby around right now after eating an entire large NY-style by yourself? If I did that, much less washed it down with a soda, I’d be so bloated I’d look like I was freaking pregnant.”

  I patted my abdomen and flashed her with a toothy grin. “Trade secret, sis. I’ll never tell!”

  “Pft. Fine, you keep your secrets, as long as they mean that you’re going to get healthier. Although I’m not sure that pepperoni pizza makes for good dietary material for putting on healthy weight. Better watch out, or you’ll swing hard in the opposite direction and be waddling around, jiggling all over the place.”

  I sniffed in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know that both of my girlfriends want to see me put on additional weight.”

  Melody raised her hands up and held her palms out, shaking her head back and forth the entire time. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t do throuples, polycules, none of that. One drunken night out partying with Lily answered that question real fast.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her and grabbed my handbag off the table. “That’s fine, more for me. Just wait until I have a full-on harem,” I teased back.

  She gave me the flattest of looks. “Morgan, if you knew half of the reputation one of your girlfriends has, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Melody wet her lips before responding. “Let’s just say that I don’t think it would be you doing the collecting so much as you being the one being collected, and leave it at that. I have workplace relationships to consider.”

  I tongued my cheek, then gave a quick nod. “Fair enough. I’m splitting and heading back. Catch you two later!”

  Melody stood and gave me another tight hug, and she whispered to me, “I can’t believe you slapped me.”

  I whispered right back: “You needed to be slapped. You fully earned it.”

  She squeezed me tighter and muttered, “You’re probably right. I’m sorry for saying that, it’s just… it hasn’t been easy, Morgan.”

  I shuffled in place, we separated, and I grabbed her by the shoulders to give her a mock shake. “No more crying today! I’m heading home. Get some sleep, you look like you need it!”

  She nodded and pressed the back of one hand to her mouth. “Mhm!”

  I waved, let myself out of the apartment, and made my way out of the building. When Gold stepped out of the front door and onto the curb, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then we switched places.

  Mmm. I needed that. And that pizza was to die for.

  I pulled out my phone and used the maps app to find the nearest 24-hour pharmacy. There was one six or so blocks away. I started the navigation and set out at a leisurely pace. Even though she said it was going to be fine, I still wanted to err on the side of caution, so I was going to pick up some stomach meds.

  You didn’t need to slap her on my behalf, you know.

  Yes, I did, Gold replied. She was being an awful, rotten bitch, and someone needed to slap that nasty, judgmental shit right off her face. You might be like a younger, more naive version of me and feel like you deserved it, or something, but that was downright vile what she said. She’s a better person than that, and I won’t stand to let any sister of mine stoop to those levels. Even if I have to beat the damn sense into her ass.

  For a long time, immediately after you slapped her, I thought you were about to get into a straight-up brawl.

  I’ve never hit her before, at least, not purposefully. Stupid accidents, sure. I think she was more shocked than angry. I didn’t think I’d ever be in a position where I felt like I had to.

  I hit a crosswalk button and waited for the light to change. The sun had dipped below the horizon, even though that wasn’t visible from here, and the last colors in the sky were fading into purples and the twinking of stars. The heat was still coming off the pavement, and the air was fairly warm, so I was plenty comfortable in my lighter summer clothing.

  I had a thought pop into my head.

  Did you go through all the setup of texting Lily and arranging a hangout just so you could box her ears in person?

  You bet your itty-bitty ass I did.

  You leave my ass out of this!

  What? Everything about you is itty-bitty, from my perspective. After a brief moment, she added, as Apex.

  Okay, that’s slightly better. At least I don’t dent pavement walking around.

  It’s all that muscle and armor. Really adds up, you know?

  I picked up a small package of antacids and some bowel stabilizers at the pharmacy, paid with my phone, and was halfway down the next block before I realized that I’d forgotten that I wanted to find the nearest bus stop for the line I needed to ride back to downtown. While I was messing with my phone and trying to pull up the bus routes on a city website that was clearly not made for mobile phones, I heard an unusual scuffling sound coming from the nearby alleyway.

  It spooked me a little.

  Gold, on the other hand…

  You should check that out.

  What, are you crazy? Why!?

  Well, I used to be a literal costumed crime fighter, you know. Chances are that’s some sloshed bum trying to take a piss on a dumpster and falling over, or it could be someone getting mugged.

  And you–you want me to get involved? Have you seen us?!

  Did I say get involved? No, I did not. I said, ‘You should check it out.’ As in, take a look, and if it looks like sketchy shit, call 911. And you do remember that I have superpowers, right? I can knock someone out from thirty feet away in one second flat.

  Fine. Fine! This is stupid, and I’m going to blame you if I get stabbed.

  Heh. I’ve been stabbed before. Really sucks. Honestly? Maybe worse than getting shot. It could be debated which is worse. If it’s any consolation, I know how to use my ability so much better now; I can fix those in a jiffy, no problemo.

  You are not making this any better for my nerves right now.

  I did my best to sneak up quietly to the corner of the alleyway and looked around. The coast was clear on this side of the street; there were a couple of people walking on the other side, minding their own business or with their noses stuffed in their digital screens. Taking a steadying breath, I peeked my head around the corner. There were some dumpsters lined up on the right side of the alley every so often, and a white panel van was parked on the left side. The back doors were open, and I could see the dim lighting of the alleyway through the front driver’s window.

  It’s probably just someone offloading stuff for a delivery, or something, I reported to Gold.

  Mmm. Maybe.

  There was another scuffling sound, like someone dragging something, but it was happening on the other side of the van from my vantage point.

  Well, we have options. You can let me drive, and I can check it out, real sneaky-like. Or you can just report suspicious activity to the police and head on your way. Or, I guess doing nothing is an option too, but that feels sort of shitty. What if someone was having a heart attack or something fairly innocent, you know?

  I think just calling the cops is perfectly fine. I can cross the street and dial 911 from over th–

  “Hey, I really like your hair. Is that hair dye, or natural?”

  I thought my heart was going to lurch out of my chest for half a second, but when I turned around, I saw a guy who looked like he wouldn’t be out of place on a midafternoon public broadcast show. Khaki slacks, loafers, a polo shirt, and neatly combed hair.

  He smiled at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?” I relaxed a bit and felt the tension come out of my shoulders.

  “I’m, yeah, you startled me. Um, it’s natural. Melanin issue, you know, lack of pigment, lots of sunscreen.”

  He nodded several times and looked very thoughtful. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You know, I actually know some people who are good at treating some issues like that.”

  I was nodding along.

  Hmm, Gold mused in my head.

  “I’m not too worried about it, it’s really not a bother,” I told him. “I should get back on my way home, though.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hold you up.” He smiled once again. He had nice teeth.

  A very large fellow came lumbering out from the alleyway I’d been peeking down moments ago. He was Asian, maybe Chinese. He had to be pushing seven feet, and was built like one of those massive, musclebound bodybuilders you saw in world strongman championships. An almost literal wall of muscle. His biceps might have actually been larger than my waist, and his thighs were almost certainly bigger. He was wearing sweatpants and sneakers, with a wifebeater tanktop stretched over his bulk and a few large gold chains around his neck.

  Huh, commented Gold, her voice dry and slightly sarcastic-sounding in my head.

  The Asian man spoke in a low, bassy rumble of a voice. “Friend of yours, Mr. Small?”

  Mr. Small flashed a sparkling grin up at the other man. “Oh, we were just having a brief, but lovely chat! What did you say your name was again?” He turned back to me halfway through asking the question.

  “Oh, um, sorry!” I felt so foolish for not telling him when he’d asked me earlier. “It’s Morgan. My name.”

  “Well, Morgan! You said you were on your way home. Would you like a ride? We’re heading that way anyway, it wouldn’t be any bother at all!”

  Gold made a mental growly grunt sound.

  I felt like Mr. Small was a trustworthy individual. He was well-dressed, polite, and seemed like a pretty nice guy. Normally, I wouldn’t take a ride from strangers, much less two men I’d just met, but it did seem sort of silly to bother with putting directions into my GPS, walking a few blocks, then taking a bus ride back home, when there was someone who wanted to give me a ride right here.

  I nodded slowly to Mr. Small, who gave me two thumbs up with another handsome smile. “Great! Mr. Big, if you’d lead the way, we can get going!”

  Mr. Big turned and walked back down the alleyway, and I followed along in his shadow. I felt much safer with a guy like that around. People just looking at him would think twice about doing anything funny. I was pretty sure he could palm a basketball one-handed. Who was I kidding? He could totally do that, and pop it, too!

  “Oh, Morgan?” Mr. Small stopped when we were alongside the sliding door of the white van.

  “Yes?” I turned and asked.

  “It’s pretty cramped in the van at the moment. Would you mind leaving your handbag here, just for now?” I looked down at my handbag, where it was half-zipped shut. I still had my phone in my hand. Then I glanced at the alleyway. “You can stick your phone in your purse too, so it doesn’t get lost.”

  Something was bugging me, and I frowned and looked at the alleyway. It was somewhat regularly maintained, but far from the cleanest I’d ever seen.

  “Don’t you think that it’ll get dirty if I put it on the street?” I looked up at Mr. Small to see if he had any thoughts on the matter.

  He chuckled and bopped himself in the forehead with the heel of one palm. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, you’re totally right! And what if someone saw it? They might get ideas! It would be much better if it were out of sight, instead! Then nobody will mess with it!” He pointed to the sliding side door on the nearby dumpster.

  Oh, of course. Nobody will see it in there.

  I felt so dumb for not thinking of it myself, and I gave him a sheepish smile. I stuck my phone in the purse, then zipped it securely closed, and dropped it into the dumpster. Mr. Big slid the dumpster mostly closed, so it’d be safe and out of sight, then turned and opened the sliding door for me on the van.

  What a gentleman, it’s so nice to meet such polite people, I feel like I’m going to wind up upsetting them by accident.

  Mr. Small wasn’t kidding. All the back rows of seats were full, except for the narrower frontmost bench seat, which was only half-width. The rest of the people in the van were a totally mixed lot: men, women, and a guy and girl who looked like they were in their late teens. Different outfits and social strata, too. Everyone was patiently waiting for their ride to get moving. It was nice and quiet inside.

  The cab of the van was separated from the back by a solid panel and a pane of glass. There was a fold-down, uncomfortable metal seat with a seatbelt strap secured to the panel that divided the vehicle.

  Mr. Small took the driver’s seat and started the van up. Mr. Big climbed into the back of the van once I was seated, folded down the tiny seat, and took a seat on it. The entire van rocked and swayed when he stepped up into the vehicle, and I was amazed that the folding seat held his mass without snapping off, or something.

  Mm. That’s unfortunate.

  Huh? What was that?

  The van lurched as it was shifted into gear. We exited the alleyway and pulled out onto the street.

  Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Pretend I’m not even here. In fact, I’m going to take a nap. Enjoy your ride.