If people tended to miss what was right in front of them, they certainly were not likely to notice what was in the sky. In the year 2035, M.A.G.E proposed the use of widespread police drones to monitor up to one square mile of New Langshir every five minutes. The logic had been sound. The right kind of category 1 gift—the most common level—could kill just as easily as a concealed pistol. Why wouldn’t a concerned citizen want surveillance protecting them 24/7? The problem lied in verbiage. ‘Monitor’, ‘surveillance’, ‘big brother’, charged terms everyone was afraid of. The common citizenry did not care to be safe. They wanted to feel safe.

The motion was shot down. Drones monitored by human beings? What about my human rights? Supes and enhanciles with observation equipment and a flight gift? People waved as those flew by. Some even tried to take selfies with them. Perhaps it was serendipitous that flight was not too common a gift. If a person on the sidewalk were to be asked why they were okay with Ace Pilot or Hawktress or Everest with his jetpack watching them from the sky, they would answer, ‘Well, I know them’.

But it was nighttime. No one saw a moth-human and the young woman she was princess-carrying zip past in silence.

“You’re really warm,” Penny remarked.

“Get your face out of there,” Amelia said. “It is not fur. You do not want that stuff in your lungs.”

“Where are they going?”

“To the outskirts, where there is a trove of derelict buildings the city has not approved yet for demolition.”

“You mean no one has leased the land yet,” Penny said. “We could probably catch a lot of criminals just by watching this area.”

“Yes, the entire fifty mile stretch of this place.”

“I think I see our officers’ car.” Penny shook her head. “They’re too far behind. I think they’ll lose them.”

“We cannot call them again. We are not supposed to be doing this anyways.”

The van had taken them on a journey, making circles around city blocks, entering highways only to exit a minute later, before finally turning into the many abandoned buildings New Langshir harbored. There was no running water here. No electricity either.

“I don’t think I’ve actually been here before,” Penny said.

People lived here. Even at this time of night, she could see little figures push unsteady carts around with junk in them. There were little spots of light pushing the darkness aside as well; garbage can fires, surrounded yet more people. How they survived, she could not guess. Technically they couldn’t be called homeless since they had shelter. And the word didn’t sound nice to the people who lived in the rest of the city. So the term ‘those with disadvantaged housing’ was used. There was a difference between referring to them, and actually seeing them.

“There’s so many,” Penny said cheerlessly.

“A lot of people never recovered from Rachminau,” Amelia said.

They touched down on the rooftop of a ten storey structure and watched as the van slipped into an underground parking space a few buildings away.

“Our Anti-Kidnap Unit friends seem to have lost the plot,” Amelia said. “I will call them again.”

“I’m going in,” Penny said.

“What?”

“It might be too late if we wait! Thousands disappear yearly from organ harvesting operations.”

Amelia seemed pained. The rules, the regulations, the code that defined an effective hero. She came from a family of accomplished heroes. If she were to be reprimanded for borderline vigilantism a month into her first year at M.A.G.E…

“I’ll wait for you there,” Penny said. Green vines shot out her belt, anchoring into the gaps in the concrete. Amelia had not even noticed that Penny was wearing the equipment she had received from the games, a belt filled with pouches of dirt and seeds modified by Penny’s gift.

Penny slid down the vines, arriving at the ground in seconds, and ran towards the target. Amelia considered the situation. There was much to lose here. It was possible to make a mistake right, and do the right thing wrong. There had been more than one case of criminals pleading a misapplication of heroic privilege, leading to a lessened sentence, or even outright freedom. She was not even a hero yet. And she had much to live up to.

Amelia watched Penny run towards the dark, hollow structure. Its windows were empty portals into an unlit unknown, where criminals may lie in wait. In one flutter of her wings she dove down, catching up in an instant.

“Hi there,” Penny said over her shoulder.

“Shut it,” Amelia replied without venom.

They stopped by the door to the side of the building.

“Not locked,” Penny said. The door opened a crack. A rattle could heard on the other side. “But there’s a chain blocking the way.”

A pale edge extended from between Amelia’s knuckles like a knife pulled from a scabbard. She swiped it down onto the metal links through the slit in the door, parting it cleanly. Penny reached out and grabbed it before it made a loud clatter on the ground. They walked into what might have once been a parking garage.

“Hear that?” Penny asked.

“A motor,” Amelia said. “For electricity.”

“Can you see anything?”

“Everything.”

Amelia’s eyes were barely-visible greenish disks bobbing in the dark, brightening and dimming depending on at what angle they were seen.

“Oh right,” Penny remarked.

“Grab my hand.”

They explored the ruin together. Once her eyes had adjusted, Penny began to make out the shape of the place. Her ears needed no time to grow accustomed. They were getting close to a source of noise. Muffled speech and shuffling footsteps. Light could be seen spilling from around the corner.

They were close enough to discern the work lights on tripods, and the words in the voices.

“…don’t have anything. We don’t have money!”

“For the last time, lady, we’re not after your money. Shut up and we won’t hurt you.”

Amelia leaned closer.

“It does not seem like the victim is in immediate danger,” she whispered. “Maybe we ought to-”

“We’re already here. We can’t just let them be.”

“I can leave an anonymous tip. The AKU can be here in minutes. Penny, we have performed beyond our station. We-”

Amelia stopped whispering, interrupted by the soft, metallic rattle of a can being tossed. Her eyes found the glint in the very hallway they were crouched in, and she noticed its cylindrical shell, its fuze body, its empty pinhole.

The right name for the object came to mind, but it did not arrive at her lips soon enough. What felt like a full minute of sunlight condensed into a fraction of a second gouged into their eyes, followed by a series arrhythmic blasts of sound. Amelia screamed, though she did not hear herself do so. Penny pulled her to her feet and they stumbled away.

“Are you okay?” Penny asked.

“Need… time,” Amelia said through grit teeth and tears. “My eyes… regenerating.”

Footsteps were moments away behind them. How had they heard them? The question did not linger long in Penny’s mind. They needed to leave. She pulled Amelia back to where they came from and over to the cover of the adjacent building, an erstwhile sandwich shop or a bakery. Once behind the counter, she pulled out her own phone, dialed the number, and took a deep breath.

“Um, hi… yes…” Penny said as calmly as she could, even as her heart beat like jackhammer. “I saw a um white van? Might be my imagination but uh I think there were voices coming from the back… yes I think someone was distressed… I think I saw them turn into the empty districts… Okay, you’re welcome. Bye.”

The sound of concrete shattering nearly made her drop her phone. She had heard louder noises before just a couple days ago. But there was something more visceral, more real about hearing the distinct crack of igniting powder and the echoic tinking of brass casings bouncing on the ground. With every crack a new hole appeared in the very walls she thought would protect them. In retrospect she should have known. Why did heroes seemingly loiter outside of criminal scenarios for so long? Because they had no idea what their opponents were capable of. If one of the kidnappers had a sensory gift of some kind, they would not be able to hide.

“Follow me this time,” Penny said.

“You are doing the dishes for the rest of the term,” Amelia snapped.

“Stay behind me.”

They ran out the back of the abandoned store. Vines grew out of Penny’s belt as they walked. With every step the plant matter thickened. Heavier footsteps followed suit. The back door was slammed open by the thrust of a boot. A voice shouted, “Cut ‘em off!”

Penny guided them into another alley, avoiding a hail of lead. Bits of brick and warm stone fell against her skin, evidence of close misses. The vines continued to grow. When they covered her entire body, they began to harden, taking on the consistency of bark. She led Amelia behind the cover of a dumpster in time to see the other entrance to the alley blocked off by a masked figure. By now, the man behind them had caught up as well. They were trapped at both ends. But Penny’s plan had been to stall. Her vines were complete. She sprinted towards the gunman not covered by the dumpster. Hot pieces of metal embedded into her bark armor. She did not slow down, tackling the gunman to the ground.

“Go to sleep,” she said. A vine wrapped around the gunman’s neck, constricting like a python. His gun clattered on the ground as he tried to pull it off.

A burst of bullets thudded into Penny’s back, but no more. Amelia was on her feet. She grasped the weapon with a hand and crushed it. With another hand she grabbed the second man’s neck, lifting him off the ground.

“Stop struggling,” she said.

“Watch out!” Penny shouted. She saw the man draw a knife. The blade was swung, but deflected harmlessly off Amelia’s chitinous skin. Amelia tossed him into the wall, and he fell on the ground like a limp doll.

When Amelia turned her head, the greenish tinge was visible in her eyes again.

“We need to leave,” she said.

“Okay, um-”

“Do not leave your vines behind.”

Penny freed her opponent, allowing him to breathe again. He laid on the ground, gasping for air. Before he could recover, they had already taken into the sky.

For a few minutes not a word was spoken. Only the nightly air could be heard ruffling past their hair. Penny broke the silence.

“Sorry,” she said.

“That was exceedingly stupid,” Amelia said.

“The girl’s life could have been in danger.”

“It was not our job. That was too risky.”

“I mean, you’re basically bulletproof.”

“You are not! Not always.”

“I think we helped,” Penny said.

“We just committed vigilantism,” Amelia said. The realization had just come to her. “If my mother knew…”

“I won’t drag us into something like this again.”

“Yes you will. It is your nature.”

“Sorry.”