"Here's how this is going to go, Ms. Cross, you're taking credit for Shayde's defeat, I'm sure there are heroes on the station that will be more than glad to take credit for it being stabilized. You don't mention what you saw and I'll make sure that the rest stays quiet." Isto said.

"What?"

"I didn't stutter. I'm not a hero, not licensed, not involved."

"But - "

"No."

"How can you just choose inaction?" Mallika demanded.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't stutter," she parroted, "you kept the station from falling, and I wouldn't have been able to cast the containment spell I did on Shayde if you hadn't given him the thrashing you did. The GSO would license you provisionally, no question... why -"

"Ms. Cross, if I wanted to sign up I would. I don't, so I haven't. That's all there is to it. You said it yourself, being a hero for the paycheck isn't a very good reason, is it?"

Mallika crossed her arms, hovering inside her magical barrier with another containing the remaining darkness of Shayde orbiting her.

"Doing nothing is worse than doing it for money," she spat.

Isto rolled his eyes.

"Look, I've done the 'try to save the world thing' a few times, doesn't always go how you think it will, or how it should."

"So you're just going to quit?"

"Work a dead-end job for a couple of hundred years and let me know if you want to keep doing the same damn thing, then ask me that question."

"I've been doing the hero thing for thirty years, Isto Raita. Some days are better than others, some are bad, but making a difference is always worth it," Mallika said.

Isto shrugged, the ethereal emerald dragon overlaid on his form mirrored the motion.

"You know, if more GSO hirelings thought as you did, it might make a difference, that being said, emergency crews are sure to be on their way, we don't have the time to sit here and debate..."

"Or else you'll be caught out here having to explain how you're alive in the vacuum of space?" Mallika interrupted.

"And I would rather not do that, Ms. Cross."

Mallika eyed him curiously.

"Fine, we'll handle this your way... under one condition."

"And what condition is that, Ms. Cross?"

"You tell me the rest of your story."

"And I did just that, Mal," Isto declared.

"Don't you get it, Isto? We tried it your way, we have been trying it your way... I don't think it's the right way," The Supplier said after a prolonged pause.

"Then why did you quit Mal? Oh, that's right - "

"For fuck's sake, Isto, I know. It happened to me." she snapped.

"Remind me then," Isto growled.

The jeering and catcalls followed Red Magus wherever she went. It wasn't always the other heroes, or the villains, or the civilians, but it was always there.

Sometimes it was a "What are you going to do, sugar, seduce me to death?"

Other times it was "Damn, devil-woman, you got 'em good!"

Or, her least favorite, "She's a pretty good hero, for a woman."

It was nearly 2025 and the expectation was that she show up to banquets in a slinky dress and her super suit be a barely present layer of spandex.

"Fucking pigs," Mallika muttered.

The more challenging the foe, the more dire the disaster, the more critical a lens the media had her under, but the latest superstud? Gets into a fight with some oversized rosebush, levels a building, and gets celebrated.

Red Magus though, "But she used my parked car to swat aside a meteor that woulda leveled the block waaah"

Mallika seethed as she walked through the halls of the GSO Central HQ. Another infraction hearing no doubt. As she rounded the corner, a familiar scent snapped her from her brooding. Her eyes trailed up a perfectly tailored suit, slate grey with a pristine white shirt, and a black silk necktie.

"Pencil Pusher?" she asked. His intense, focused eyes and blonde hair would have given him away if his face had changed over the last twenty-some odd years.

"Not anymore, Ms. Cross," he reached into his suit jacket and produced one of the highest quality business cards Mallika had ever seen, "private practice now. Let me know if you need anything... anything at all."

"Cross! Get in here!" Director Viskol, the most recently appointed Director of the GSO, bellowed from his office.

"Good Luck," Isto offered as he strolled away.

Mallika walked into the office and slammed the door shut behind her with a swipe of her tail, "What is it Director."

"Sit down, Cross."

"I'll stand, thanks."

"See, this is part of the problem with you Cross, you don't listen, don't follow orders, the media has a fucking field day with your interviews and your division is hemorrhaging funds with all the settlements being paid out..."

"What is this about, Viskol?"

The Director grew red in the face with anger. He was normal, a civilian, but he did have superhuman anger management issues.

"It's you! You're the fucking problem Cross. Your bullshit magic, people don't understand it, it scares them, they sue us every time you're involved -"

"I've got the highest close, capture, and thwart ratings on the villain chart and the gap in success between me and the next asshat on the 'Natural Disasters Subverted' chart is over seventy percent, Viskol, how am I the problem?"

The Director slammed both hands down on and then across his desk, sending paperwork and trinkets flying before storming toward Mallika, hand raised, and stopping.

She didn't flinch.

"What, aren't you going to hit me? Rough me up? Teach me a lesson? Hm?"

Viskol took a step back and lowered his hand, still seething.

"No? Is it because it's the actual wrong thing to do, or because I'm a woman? I think we both know that it isn't the first one, don't we?"

"Get. Out," he growled.

"Yes, sir," Mallika said mockingly, "you want me out? Happy to oblige."

Without another word between the two, Mallika stormed out of the office and toward her division, the Arcane Division.

"Highest performer forced out for doing too well, then villanized in the papers," Isto summarized.

"Well... humanity wasn't ready for magic, so I took it back."

"And again, more proof as to why we can't make these decisions, Mallika."

"That's bullshit, Isto."

"No, it's not Mal, you took the Arcane Division of the GSO, and three acres of GSO owned land, and you put it into a place outside of space and time that no one, but you, could get to because you took magic from the world after your boss yelled at you. You affected the entire world in a mood," Isto shouted.

"Doing nothing is just. as. bad," Mallika contended.

"And what should we do? Bring back Magic? Reveal the presence of Dragons in society? Burn the whole fucking thing down and start over?"

"That's not what I'm - "

"Becuase we can't do that Mal, if we - "

"Will you just shut up for a second?" The Supplier shouted.

Isto sat in stunned silence for a moment.

"I'm not suggesting anything so drastic, I'm just saying that we need to do something, anything. Save Sorli, for starters? You made that boy a promise, didn't you?"

"I..." Isto started, "I did. I promised him that we would tell him what we're doing and why."

"And you can't keep that promise if his mind is broken and he's been killed, can you?"

"No, no I cannot."

"And we don't know if Verna Riggs and Catherine Knight are actually going to do anything to help him, do we?"

"We don't know that either," Isto admitted, "but we also don't know that they won't."

"I'm not sure if we should rely on them taking action. You want to keep your promise, right?"

"Goddamn it, Mal. Fine. Let's do this."

Sorli collapsed to the cold concrete floor.

"Get. Up," the booming voice demanded in his head.

He groaned and attempted to get his hands underneath him, shards of glass dug into his palms and forearms as he dragged them closer to his body.

"Fuck."

"I'm getting tired of this, Mr. Grimmarson. I don't know what you're doing to keep me from getting what I want, but you will submit to me," Psycher said.

"You are Vidar, you are vengeance, the one to survive the All-Father, to smite the great wolf. This... bitch, she is nothing. Get. On. Your. Feet," the voice boomed again.

Sorli's heart pounded in his chest, and with the circulation of blood, some vigor returned to him.

"I don't know what any of that shit even means," Sorli grumbled as he got to his knees.

Psycher grunted with effort, attempting to do... something from across the room.

Sorli felt nothing.

"What's wrong, Psycher, outta gas?" he asked.

"What have you done?" she demanded, "What have you done!"

Sorli got to his feet.

"I didn't do... anything, but you Psycher," Sorli growled as he limped toward the woman, "you have done a lot of things, to a lot of people, haven't you?"

Psycher arched an eyebrow.

"A lot of people, that you violated, stole from, broke," Sorli menaced, "a lot of people... who want revenge,"

Psycher's eyes went wide with fear as Sorli's pupils burned like the heart of a flame. Her expression shifted, hardening.

"Is that what you think you are? Vengeance? Please, you and every other gravel-throated-ineffective-street-level piece of trash that comes through my interrogation chamber. You think that your little speech scares me?"

"No," Sorli said, "I don't. But that's your problem. You're too comfortable, here in your little lair, just like..."

"A villain? Please, Mr. Grimmarson, spare me the lecture."

"Like someone who's forgotten what being in a fight," Sorli finished.

He kicked a chunk of concrete at the interogator, who deflected it harmlessly with her telekinetic ability.

"No!" she shouted.

Sorli stood, planting his domino mask back on his face. The smoldering feathers rushed over his body, supporting his tired muscles, and the sword made of the same burning feathers sprang forth into his right hand.

"What, are you going to kill me? Mr. Grimmarson?"

Sorli slammed the flat of his blade across the bridge of Psycher's nose, knocking her out and onto her back.

"No, no I'm not. What the hell am I going to do?"