“That’s it right there,” I said, pointing out the tall, concrete apartment structure where Masuyo lived. I’d been right in my initial assessment—she really didn’t live far from Palanquin. I’d noticed previously that she lived relatively close to the university, just north of downtown, and only a bit west of Palanquin. In hindsight, Palanquin’s placement probably explained why it was able to draw such large crowds. It got the college aged partying crowd and the office workers who want to let loose after a hard day’s work. I tried to imagine Masuyo dancing the night away at Palanquin in the sorts of skimpy outfits I’d seen at the club but couldn’t quite manage it. Maybe she was secretly a party girl, but from what I’d seen so far, I had her pegged as the straight-laced type that would hang out awkwardly at the edge of the room, dragged there by friends if she even went at all.

Gregor pulled into the parking lot nearby and angled the mini-van towards a free visitor parking spot. Like Faultline’s car, all of its glass was tinted, but beyond that it really was your garden variety mini-van. I had chuckled when I first saw it and jokingly asked Gregor if he had aspirations to be a soccer mom, which had pulled a chuckle out of him.

“You said you do not have much to move?” he questioned as we climbed out together and he pulled up the hood on his hoodie, casting a bit of shadow over his face. It wasn’t late enough for the sun to really be setting yet, so anyone who paid close attention would still notice he was a cape.

“Yeah. I never really had much, besides some clothes and a few other things.” After a few moments, I remembered to throw in, “And hey. Um, thanks for driving me.”

“You are welcome,” he quickly replied. I would have thought he was uncomfortable, but he sounded at ease when he said it. Like he was used to it, expected the words. What was up with that? Did the rest of the team depend on him a lot? “Please lead the way.”

I pushed my musings aside and made my way to the elevator. I could count the number of times had I ridden it up to her apartment on two hands. It felt a little weird that this would be the last time for the foreseeable future. I had only just moved here not even a week ago, resigned to the fact I was moving away from the only home I had ever known in my life. Well, not the only apartment, but Brooklyn had always been home. I doubted Brockton Bay would ever come close.

The doors slid open at the right level, and I led Gregor down the hall and around the corner to Masuyo’s apartment. I tugged open my bag, and the key readily flew into my hands. I could feel a pants button and a pair of stud earrings moving around in the tiny kitchen left of the apartment’s entrance that I tentatively pegged as Masuyo. As I unlocked the deadbolt, I quietly informed Gregor, “Cousin is here. Lemme talk to her first.” He nodded and stepped away from the door to lean casually against the hallway wall.

“Welcome home,” Masuyo cheerfully greeted me from my left. Far too cheerfully, considering I hadn’t been back here since yesterday morning and hadn’t called. Even if the school hadn’t cared enough to inform her I didn’t show up earlier, she doubtlessly would have noticed I didn’t sleep here yesterday. She had to be faking it, but what would be the point? Some misguided attempt to make up for the other night? We hadn’t spoken since I blew up at her beyond exchanging awkward “morning”s yesterday. I’d felt kinda bad about making her cry and had wanted to clear the air, but it was a situation I had no real reference for. Mom had usually been drugged up out of her mind, and the few friends I’d had over the years were made of sterner stuff, so I hadn’t expected Masuyo would take it so poorly or known what to do about it. The smell and sound of sizzling meat drew my attention to the stove where several hamburger patties were browning in a large skillet. There were also some fresh toppings like lettuce and tomato on a cutting board nearby next to some ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise bottles. This was too much food for one person—was she expecting company? She couldn’t have known I would be arriving now.

She eventually looked my way when I unintentionally let the silence linger too long and seemed to understand my unspoken question. “A friend of mine from class is stopping by in a bit to study. Have you eaten yet? I have enough meat to make you some patties too.”

I shook my head. It’d been bad enough I had to rely on Masuyo for my first few meals here, but Faultline had given me a small advance on our next job once I’d explained I had nothing to my name after my fight with Lung. I’d get food later. “I’m actually just grabbing my things. I need to pay you back too.”

“You don’t—” She paused for a fraction of a second, a look of frustration passing over her face, then immediately switched gears. “What’re you grabbing?”

I opened my mouth to reply but paused when it hit me the blunt response I’d been about to give would likely lead to her getting upset. Again. And Gregor would be here for it this time. Fantastic. I wracked my brain for a way to avoid that but came up blank. I just didn’t know her well enough, an issue complicated by her acting like we did. I’d couch surfed at a friend’s once for a few months back when mom started having regular orgies at the apartment, and it’d been no big deal when I peaced out after Mom finally decided she was done with that lot. If you’d asked me a week ago, I would’ve thought moving out of Masuyo’s would be like that but for the complication of Social Services being nosy. Now I knew better. Or rather, I knew how much I didn’t know about her. So my options were ‘take a shot in the dark and hope I can lie through my teeth well enough to avoid her suspicion despite the fact I am literally taking all of my shit with me,’ which was liable to make her more upset if—when—she realized I was lying… or I could just go stick with tried and true ‘blunt as fuck.’

“June?”

Blunt and honest it is. “All of it. I’m moving out.”

Her cheery expression vanished in an instant. She’d definitely been faking it. She had to for it to fall away like that. “What’re you talking about?”

“I got a job, and I can afford my own place,” I smoothly lied. It was close enough to the truth. The best lies were. “How much do I owe you for the food and phone? Rent too.” I’d almost forgotten the last bit. I had money and the promise of more to come, so I didn’t want to freeload on rent either. Wiping the slate clean and starting over on a level playing field, I could maybe see myself developing a real relationship with Masuyo then, not this pseudo-shit she’s got cooked up in her head. I’d never known any of my relatives besides Mom, so it might be nice.

Might not be too.

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “You don’t… What are…” She shook her head, clearly unsure where to start. “Huh?”

Heh. Eloquent. “I mean it. I’ve got a job. You don’t need to do anything for me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair starting tonight.”

“I really don’t understand your fixation on this. I’m glad you got a job—work experience could be good, really—but you don’t need to worry about that sort of stuff. That’s my job as an adult.”

I clenched my hands at the condescension but did my best to ignore it. I didn’t want to make a scene with Gregor here. “Whatever. Agree to disagree. I’m still moving out.”

She ran a hand over her face. “June. That’s not how this works.”

Losing patience with her, I dismissively replied, “I really don’t have time for this,” and started towards the hallway and rounded the corner to the closet. My clothes and my secondhand, battered suitcase were both stored in it. “We have places to be.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

Gregor apparently took that as his cue to come in. I felt the metal on his jeans slowly round the corner, and he cautiously asked, “Is there anything I should take down while you pack?”

“No, no. It’ll all fit in my suitcase. Just gotta pack it real quick.”

“Who are you?” Masuyo demanded, strangely undeterred by the unknown man entering her apartment. She probably figured he was relatively safe since he was with me, but still, she had more guts than I had thought. “And what—”

She gasped, having probably seen his skin. I ignored her, expecting a mutter or exclamation of ‘cape’ to follow, and started to shove what few clothes I had extracted from the suitcase so far back into it.

“This is your fault, isn’t it? You’re with them, aren’t you?” The skillet left the stove. “Why can’t you bastards just leave June alone?!”

Woah, wait—what?

I abandoned my suitcase and quickly returned to the living room and matched visuals to what my power was telling me. The patties that had been in the skillet were piled in a lump on the edge of the burner where she must have haphazardly dumped them in her haste to arm herself, and I could already see smoke starting to rise from the mass of meat. More concerning was how Masuyo was menacingly waving the probably still burning hot skillet at Gregor, who had his hands in the air and was backing away slowly towards the door.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” he replied, but she either couldn’t hear the honesty in his words or just didn’t care, since she made another threatening swipe at him.

“Masuyo, what the fuck?”

Her eyes flicked my way for only a moment before they immediately returned to giving Gregor a death glare. “My phone is in the other room. Call the PRT. Hurry!”

“Please calm down, miss.”

She swiped at him again, and I growled out, “Put that down now, or I’ll make you.”

“There is no need for that,” Gregor hastily replied, his eyes on me. “If you can handle carrying your things, then I will wait outside.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, since Masuyo’s eyes flashed with something like understanding. “A master…? Get out of our home! I’ll never let you monsters have her!”

I saw red. She made to lunge at Gregor, and I tugged the skillet sharply left. Now swinging too hard and too quickly, she lost her balance and yelped as she fell to the floor in a heap. The skillet slipped from her fingers and slid towards me. “I told you to leave him alone!” I snarled. She made to reach for the skillet’s plastic handle, and I sent it skidding further into the living room with a negligent flick of my power.

“J-June?”

There was fear in her eyes, and the sight brought me up short. Intellectually I’d known that her eyes looked just like mine, but seeing the fear in them now… Suddenly all I could think of was drowning in the graveyard and how afraid I’d been. The wind out of my sails, I averted my gaze and gulped. “Stay down,” I commanded, much softer than I was originally going to.

“Masuyo, is everything alright?” a voice from the hallway said. “I heard shouting…”

I glanced up and saw it was one of the neighbors, a little old lady whose name I couldn’t remember but whom I vaguely recalled being introduced to by Masuyo when I arrived last Friday. Gregor didn’t turn to acknowledge her, likely to avoid another person freaking out over his unique appearance. Masuyo was already trying to get the PRT involved, and that was the last thing I needed. That meant I needed to undermine her credibility in case she tried to ask this lady for help. It was a Thursday night—I’d known college kids to party on Thursday nights. Alcohol. “Hi again. Sorry, she’s had a bit too much to drink and shouted when she slipped.”

“Who… Oh yes, right. Jake, was it?”

I stiffened at the name and didn’t miss Gregor’s eyes flicking my way. I nearly corrected her, but managed to hold my tongue. The last thing we needed was to engage her more than necessary right now. “I’ll help Masuyo to the couch. Have a good night.”

She clucked her tongue. “You shouldn’t be so hasty, young man. It’s rude you know,” she remarked, but she thankfully turned to leave. “I’m just next door if you need any— I’m sorry, is something burning? I smell smoke.”

“Left the burgers on too long,” Masuyo shakily said as she rolled onto her side. “Sorry, Mrs. C. Won’t happen again.”

“See that you do,” the old bat loftily said. “And do be more careful, Masuyo!”

The lady finally left, and after a few beats of awkward silence, Gregor took a few steps backwards towards the door and gently pushed it closed. The smell of burning meat was beginning to hang heavy in the air, and small clouds of smoke were beginning to waft from the stove. He moved to take care of it before the smoke alarm could go off, and I turned my attention back to Masuyo, who was staring at me again. There was still fear in her eyes. I wasn’t sure if that was good or not. Either way, I couldn’t let this shit go on. “Listen up, and listen good, Masuyo,” I growled at her, clenching my fists to try and control my anger. “You have no right. You have no goddamn right. You think you can just waltz into my life, drag me from my home, and tell me what to do? To act like we have some kind of bond, when you’re just some stranger I met a week ago? To threaten my teammate and call him a monster?” My traitorous thoughts helpfully reminded me I had been rude to him when we met too, but I ignored it. I was altered, or whatever Faultline called it. It’s not the same.

“You can fight him off,” she whispered, her eyes flicking so quickly towards Gregor that I almost missed it. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You really believe that? That I’m being controlled?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once. The only person in charge of my life is me. Not you. Not anybody else. Me. Go sit on the couch and be quiet. Do not touch that frying pan until we’ve left. We’ve wasted enough time dealing with your nonsense.”

“June…”

I ignored her and returned to the closet to resume packing. It took a minute, but I eventually felt her slowly rise and move towards the couch. I carefully kept an eye on her with my power as I grabbed my iron and miniature ironing board, but she didn’t go for the frying pan. Giving the closet one last look over, I tugged the suitcase out of the closet’s floor and into the hallway as Gregor rounded the corner.

“I will take care of that. You should say goodbye.”

“I don’t think she deserves it after this,” I muttered.

“There has clearly been a misunderstanding,” he disagreed, his tone imploring. “A significant one, it seems. You will both probably feel different come tomorrow. I said it before: You should not be so quick to abandon family.”

I glared at him and I was just about to tell him where he could shove his ideals about family, but I remembered my conversation with Newter about Case 53s, and my jaw shut with a click. I glanced past him towards Masuyo, who was still staring at the two of us with wide, fearful eyes. I sighed bitterly. “Family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” I disagreed. He opened his mouth to retort, and I quickly added, “I’ll talk to her. Just… Don’t be surprised when nothing comes of it, okay?” We stared at each other for a minute in silence, and eventually he nodded and turned sideways to give me room to pass his bulk in the narrow hallway. I sighed again and stepped past towards the living room. Now that I was closer, I could see silent tears were falling from her eyes as she stared at me, and I winced. That was twice in three days I’d reduced her to tears. Why was it bothering me so much? She was nothing to me—no one.

And yet her eyes looked just like mine.

I struggled to find the words that wouldn’t make things worse but came up short. Behind me, I heard Gregor zip up the suitcase and move to the exit. Knowing we had a meeting to get to, I forced myself to pull the card out of my pocket and toss it on the rug covering the living room floor. She didn’t so much as glance at it—she only had eyes for me.

“Bye, Masuyo.”

I turned and left without another word. Behind me I heard her sob, and I quickened my pace, uncomfortable. Gregor and I left as quickly and discretely as we could, neither of us saying a word. The sun was finally beginning to retreat behind the mountains bordering Brockton Bay by the time we loaded up the car and left. It wasn’t until we were halfway back to Palanquin that I finally broke the silence. “Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t expect that reaction from her.”

He said nothing for a moment as we made a left turn, his hands smoothly guiding the steering wheel through the maneuver. “You need not apologize for her behavior. She clearly had me mistaken for someone else.”

A beat of silence passed. “I, um… I was going to tell you. That… isn’t how I meant for you to find out.”

“I am sorry if this offends you, but I had suspected that may be the case.”

I clenched my fists and looked away out the window. “Figures,” I said. “You’re not the first, and you probably won’t be the last.”

“That is why you need money, yes? Living expenses, true, but medical reasons.”

“Ain’t your business,” I muttered, much less heatedly than I had intended to say. It was a bit rude of me, and a part of me recognized I should take it back and apologize, but when I turned to look at him I found my mouth wouldn’t form the words. I turned back to the window and stared at the buildings and people as they passed by, a quiet settling over the van for the remainder of the brief return trip. Depressing thoughts threatened to make themselves heard, but I shoved them down deep with practiced ease. I had no time for thoughts like that. There was no rest for the wicked.

Eventually we reached Palanquin, and Gregor pulled the van into one of the parking spots in a gated, private lot that wasn’t far from the loading bay. Not far away I could see the line that had already begun to stretch around Palanquin, and the music and lights inside were already in full swing. He turned to face me after slipping the gear shift into park, and I unconsciously turned to face him. “If you say you are a woman, then you need say no more, Juniper. It is so.”

The use of my full name startled a strangled laugh out of me, and I realized with a jolt that tears were leaking from my eyes and carving their way down my cheeks. I hurriedly looked away, tugged my mask from my bag, and tied it around my face. I was going to need it anyway. Faultline had warned me to wear it when coming and going with Gregor and Newter to prevent people from connecting my unmasked face with Meteor, the new cape on the team.

“L-Let’s go,” I said, stumbling over the words as I pulled the handle to open the door. Gregor began to climb out as well, and I started towards the front door but quickly had to stop when the crying got so bad I couldn’t see. “Goddammit,” I muttered, swiping at my eyes and sniffling. “Stop fucking crying.”

My bulky teammate carefully stepped over to my side. “The only person in charge of your life is you,” he murmured just loudly enough for me to hear, “but your teammates are still here to help you.” I gave up trying to hide the tears as a bad job and just turned to look at him. Strangely, instead of the condescension, disdain, or even annoyance I expected to see in his expression, he wore a sad, gentle smile. I stared, my vision still half obscured by my watery eyes. What was this? Why was he looking at me like that? I averted my gaze, and resumed wiping away the tears until they finally began to taper off. I expected him to get tired of waiting on me and leave, but he never did.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you going inside?”

He took a moment to respond, maybe searching for the right words. “Because teammates do not abandon one another.”

I scoffed. “Not in my experience.”

“You will find we are different.”

I turned to look at him again. The gentle smile from before was now an expression of calm assurance. He believed it. I could see it—he really believed that was true.

“I won’t be surprised if nothing comes of it.”

“Do not be surprised if it does.”

I critically eyed myself in the bathroom mirror one more time to make sure there weren’t any signs I had been crying. Satisfied, I slipped out of the bathroom and made my way down to the room where the meeting would be held.

“Yo, Newter, Elle,” I greeted the other teens when I slipped in. The room was decently sized without being huge and had a large, roughly rectangular wooden table in the middle with seats surrounding it, a white board with a variety of colored dry-erase markers lining its tray, and a projector screen with a metal pull-down handle. At a guess it was supposed to be a conference room, but that sort of thing was outside my experience, so it seemed more like a weird classroom to me. Faultline would be ‘teaching’ us what we needed to know about my first job, so the comparison was fitting in a way.

“Yo yo!”

“Hello, June,” Elle quietly greeted as well.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise as I took a seat across from Newter. “Today’s a ‘good day’ then?” She looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. She hadn’t been in the room when I’d woken up, so I hadn’t noticed. Palanquin had other rooms, but Faultline had placed me in the same room as Elle. I’d objected, since I was used to living ‘alone,’ but Faultline had argued it was good for camaraderie. That was the sort of reasoning that was hard to argue against without making me out as ‘not a team player.’ I didn’t think I would be let go from the team if I had drawn a metaphorical line in the sand, but I also hadn’t wanted to deal with the ostracization that might follow and capitulated. Besides, I didn’t think I would mind that much. Elle seemed to be a quiet type, and while I normally didn’t hang out with people like that, they were—by definition—quiet at least.

“I was just telling her you settled on your cape name,” Newter chimed in with a grin matching my own. “S’about time you settled on one! So indecisive!”

I was still in a mood, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t so far gone I couldn’t go for the obvious joke. “There’s nothing wrong with holding out for the right one,” I replied. “I’m a girl with standards.” He chuckled at the double entendre, and I smirked, feeling just a bit better. Elle glanced from me to him and back again, and though she didn’t comment, a small smile found its way to her face. Yeah, definitely a quiet type.

Faultline and Gregor entered the room a moment later, and her gaze moved straight to me. “June, Gregor was just telling me about your trip.”

Ah fuck. Of course he told her. “Okay…”

Newter looked intrigued, and she regarded me for a moment longer before asking, “Do you need a new ID? I already gave you an advance, so it would need to wait until after this job unless you want to spend that advance, but I have contacts I can tap.”

She really is shameless about charging me money, I thought, though I didn’t mind too much. She was holding me accountable for what I owed. I was willing to bet Faultline understood what Masuyo just didn’t seem to get. If you paid your own way in the world, then you were free. If you didn’t pay, then whoever did? They owned you. “I need that, yeah. Thanks.”

Faultline nodded in acknowledgment. Newter’s curiosity was palpable now, but I studiously ignored him. Gregor took a seat by me, and Faultline tugged down the projector screen before moving to the head of the table and setting down her laptop. The projector came to life, and a blueprint for an armored truck splayed across the blank screen. “An armored convoy will be transporting a prisoner from a holding facility in Providence to the PRT building in Boston. We’ve been engaged to break out the prisoner and transport her from Providence across the border to Montreal. The prisoner is Paige Mcabee, also known as Bad Canary.”

Well, now I know why she was concerned about whether I could lift an armored car earlier.

“Wait, Bad Canary the singer?” Newter interjected. “Dude, her shit’s good. You can’t listen to ‘Lineless’ and not feel something.”

“If you’re done educating us about her musical talent, Newter?” Faultline drawled. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, and she pulled out a laser pointer—Goddamn, she’s like a real life Batman. How much random shit does she have stored in her costume?—and began to gesture at a section of the blueprint that seemed to be detailing the bottom of the vehicle. “The transfer will be occurring almost two weeks from now on a Sunday afternoon, presumably to limit the traffic the convoy will encounter will still maintaining high visibility. We will be ambushing the convoy in the city, as any attempt on the highway will be too open and at speeds that aren’t safe to engage without risking serious injury to the prisoner, guards, and drivers nearby. Based off our testing earlier, my original hope that June could remotely lift the car into the air and forcibly move it to an isolated location won’t work. June, we’ll need you to damage or remove the drive shaft to stop the vehicle then remove the rear doors so we can extract the prisoner.”

“I have no idea what that is,” I pointed out. Cars and their construction weren’t a hobby of mine.

“I figured that may be the case. We’ll practice before the mission at a junkyard, but we’ll need to do it at night to avoid arousing too much suspicion. Elle, we will discretely set up position long enough beforehand to give your power time to saturate the area in case we encounter resistance and need to fight.” She turned to Gregor next. “Assuming there isn’t a parahuman escort, which we’ll get to in a minute, you’ll need to create an adhesive to hold the guards in place and prevent them from firing their weapons long enough for Newter to get in and touch everyone.”

“Bad Canary too?” Newter asked, his tail thrashing a bit, though it seemed to avoid moving anywhere near Elle.

“Yes, it will be safer to transport her that way,” Faultline affirmed. “The PRT will have her bound in some way that prevents her from using her power, but we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hang on,” I cut in. “Powers?” I looked at Newter. “I thought you said she’s a singer?”

“Her voice is her power,” Newter explained with some enthusiasm. “Makes her sound amazing!”

“More importantly, it gives her a master rating,” Faultline added, giving Newter a look. If his grin was anything to judge by, it didn’t really seem to bother him. “Are you familiar with the standard PRT power classifications, June?”

“Kinda. Master means she can control people, right?” That raises all sorts of questions about Masuyo’s reaction to Gregor earlier…

“Not all masters control people, but yes, a ‘master’ designation means the power focuses on controlling others or creating minions. An obvious example is Heartbreaker, but a less obvious example would be someone like Blasto, a tinker who specializes in plant-based minions. Pertinently, Paige Mcabee can make anyone who listens to her music incredibly suggestible, like a form of hypnosis. The PRT have allegedly given her a master rating of 8.”

Newter whistled at that, and I gaped. “I thought the PRT only assigned numbers that high to big threats. The fuck did a singer do to get that reaction from them?”

“It’s been freely reported that she was arrested, but the PRT have been keeping the exact charges under wraps under for the sake of operational security while making security arrangements. Our employer, however, has stated she allegedly got in an argument with her ex-boyfriend and told him, ‘Go fuck yourself.’ Apparently he… brutalized himself in order to do so.” We all paled at that, and Elle pulled her feet up into her chair and hid her face in her knees. “That’s assuming our employer has good information and isn’t withholding anything.” She gave each of us a significant look. “We have no way to prove whether these rumors are true or false, and until such time as we can prove definitively that she is not a threat, we must treat her as if she is one. We do our job, and we get out of there. Our employer has quite explicitly confirmed we do not need to free her from her bonds—we need only extract her from the convoy and get her to a drop point in Montreal.”

Gregor leaned forward. “This is a PRT convoy. What resistance might we expect to encounter?”

“From the information I’ve been able to gather regarding the security measures being taken, it’s unlikely the Boston Protectorate will get involved in the transfer until the convoy reaches Boston city limits. Night and Fog, two capes with known E88 affiliations who moved to Boston last year, have been attacking some of the high poverty areas like Fenway, and the Protectorate are likely to keep their capes and PRT platoons closer to home in case of another assault. They’re sparing the armored truck and two officers to ride in the front of the vehicle, but that should be it.” She tapped her keyboard, and the pictures of three capes replaced the blueprints. “That means any resistance is likely to be in the form of capes from Providence, either because they’ve been contracted or otherwise because they feel it is their duty to ensure Paige Mcabee faces justice. Providence isn’t a small city, but the cape population is—enough that it doesn’t have its own dedicated PRT force. That narrows down what capes we may face.”

Her laser pointer danced over the leftmost image, which showed a reedy guy with a wavy blond hair wearing a blue and green outfit reminiscent of a scuba diver, though he wore boots instead of flippers. Some sort of breathing device was built into a mask that covered his face. The outfit looked ridiculous to me, especially the wave emblem on his chest. “This is Riptide. He’s publicly known to be a blaster who creates waves of water out of thin air that he can send flying at opponents. It’s widely speculated that his power has a secondary effect of causing targets hit by it to be struck silent for some amount of time. He’s never admitted to this aspect of his power, but so many reports exist asserting this effect that there’s likely to be at least a grain of truth to it.”

The red dot moved on to dance over the picture in the middle. This one featured a guy of average build wearing a red toga like someone from Ancient Greece, though the golden laurel atop his head, golden domino mask over his eyes, and golden, winged sandals would have made him look out of place or at the very least overdressed. “This is Rubicon. He’s a mover, a minor speedster with the ability to ignore gravity enough to run on walls but not fly. More importantly, he leaves burning circles in his wake that expand to a set size and burn everything they touch except for the surface itself. The circles disappear when he stops moving, and from what I can glean, the circles grow to approximately a three foot diameter.”

She moved on to the last image, and her tone shifted somewhat. “And this is Boudicca. All of these individuals have powers that can prove troublesome in the right circumstances, but she has the most potential to fail our operation. She is a brute and striker, and her power is the least well known despite her being the preeminent hero in Providence. When she strikes others, she gets stronger defensively and weaker offensively. When struck, the opposite is true: She gets stronger offensively and weaker defensively. The offensive boosts are focused on strength and speed, and the defensive boosts are regeneration and resistance to harm. All of that alone would make fighting her difficult, but she can also ‘mark’ her opponents with glowing symbols that seem to boost the effect of her powers on that person.” The woman in the photo didn’t look intimidating if you only considered her slightly taller than average height and the visible gray in her shoulder length brown hair, but her armor, a mixture of bronze plate over leather and forest green cloth, in combination with her bronze helmet, green visor, and light blue warpaint painted a different picture. “If we encounter her, then Elle, June, and I will disengage to a safe distance if possible. Newter would be our best means to put her down, and Gregor might be able to pin her down at low strength levels with adhesive, but it is best to avoid engaging her at all if possible.”

“What about capes besides the heroes,” Gregor pressed. “Is there anyone else who may interfere?”

“It’s certainly possible, and we’ll be going over known villains and rogues in the area, but before we do, does anybody have any questions regarding these three?”

“What if Rubicon jumps?” Newter spoke up. “Not even like across roofs or whatever. What if he literally jumps in place? Does that leave his shit on the ground?”

Faultline considered that for a moment. “That specific situation didn’t come up in the intel, but there was speculation the reason the circles vanish if he stops moving is because the power has a failsafe to protect him from it—that the circles vanish if one would touch him. The people pushing that idea forward argued videos always show him jumping over his circles if he has to cross where he already ran. If that is true, and it is unconfirmed, then I would imagine the answer is no.”

“So dude’s gotta keep running around if he wants to maintain any defensive advantage from the circles,” Newter summarized. “Coolness.”

“Um, I’ve got one,” I said. The four sets of eyes swiveled to me, and I took a moment to regain my cool. I would’ve thought I’d be used to that sort of thing from school, but apparently having the attention of a room full of capes focus on you was more intense. “So about scuba guy’s silence thing.”

“Riptide,” Faultline corrected. I swore I saw the corners of her lips twitch into a smile, but it was gone in a flash, if it even happened at all.

“Sure, him. If he does have that secondary effect of making people silent, then wouldn’t that affect him too if he got hit by it?”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, “but not necessarily. Powers are finicky like that. Some have built-in failsafes, like the one we just speculated Rubicon has, but not all do. New Wave tried to suppress it, but there is a video in circulation of Flashbang being shot while creating one of his namesake flashbangs, which caused him to drop it and hurt himself quite badly.”

That made me wonder what ways I might accidentally hurt myself with my power. Obvious ones like dropping something on myself stood out, but I’d heard of metal poisoning before. I think you had to eat some to get it, but it might be possible I could get it from coins rubbing on my skin when I fly. I’d have to look into it.

Faultline looked at each of us in turn. “No more questions? Then let’s review who else we might encounter…”

“June, if you wouldn’t mind staying for a moment.”

I froze halfway through standing up. Gregor, Newter, and Elle all slipped out of the room now that the meeting was over. Elle had given me a tiny wave when she walked past that I hadn’t known how to respond to, but if she’d expected a certain reaction from me, then she hadn’t let any disappoint show on her face. “Um, sure? Everything okay?”

“I just wanted to take some time to talk with you about your costume.”

“Oh. Okay. What about it?”

“I mentioned earlier that I have certain contacts. That of course extends beyond fake IDs. Although you’ve been making do with your coins and scarf, I can acquire other items for you as well.”

“At a cost, yeah?” She smirked, and I rolled my eyes. She didn’t need to be so smug about it. “I don’t have anything in mind.”

She drummed her fingers on the table, the smirk fading and a a far away look entering her eyes as she stared at the currently blank projector screen. “Aesthetics can be a factor, though I strongly recommend you focus more on practical aspects, things that will keep you alive. At least for now.”

“You mean other than a shit ton of coins, so I always have enough metal on hand?”

“I mean like dirt or powders kept in metal spheres to be thrown at the enemy as a distraction. Goggles for your eyes, to prevent an opponent throwing something similar at you. Sharp caltrops, since you don’t have the fine control needed to make something similar. You mentioned on the way back from power testing that you can only push one item into the ‘elsewhere’ at a time, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea to carry a thin, lightweight metal shield that you can easily take cover behind without needing to merge coins together first.”

Woah. I hadn’t thought of any of that. The goggles definitely would have helped a lot against Oni Lee. “Okay, you got me. That all sounds pretty good.” A thought occurred, and I added, “Actually, a mask with a… what do you call it, a filter? Think that’s right. Anyway, that would have been good to have against Oni Lee. I was choking for half that fight.”

She made a note of that on her computer. “There are construction masks with filters to prevent inhalation of dust. Wearing something like that under your current mask would probably be sufficient, but I’ll see what options are best and let you know the costs. We can discuss options more tomorrow evening.” She returned her attention to me. “Beyond that, there’s the matter of your changing genders.” I tensed, ready to defend myself despite the calm air about her. “There is a reason I mentioned to the team you are using a… I suppose it is not so much false as it is a new name. Regardless, I mentioned it because it is important to head off potential trust issues by making it clear there’s a chance someone may call you a different name. As for your gender… I would recommend mentioning it to the team, but that is far more personal, so I will leave that to your discretion.”

I groaned and shoved my face into my hands. “I’ve already had to do this shit twice now. It’s getting real fucking old.”

“I can only imagine,” she remarked with a shrug. “Gregor mentioned you may have medical needs, and you said something similar in your altered state earlier. Though it’s possible to buy these things outright, it’s very easy to under or even overdose, and there can be drastic consequences. I can’t let you take a shot in the dark with your body like that. It wouldn’t be right.”

I surged to my feet, my fists clenched. “So what, you want me to just deal with it? You think I’m gonna accept that? You have no idea what I’m going through!”

“I own several businesses through shell companies,” she answered, her expression neutral but her tone firm. The non-sequitur threw me. What did that have to do with this? “I will hire you, or rather the ‘you’ we generate false documentation for, at one of them. With you on a payroll, I’ll be able to give you medical insurance in a way that won’t be traced back to here. My sole caveat in providing this for you is that you see a doctor about your treatments and follow their medical advice. I trust that is acceptable?”

“W-What…?” My anger left as quickly as it had come, and I dropped into my chair. “I don’t… Why?” Her neutral expression softened just a bit at that. I stared at her, unsure what to make of her. Where was the money-grubber who was charging me for a fake ID and my costume pieces? I frowned, trying to figure out what prompted this change. “I don’t need your charity. People normally pay for that, right? Just… Just charge me.”

She tilted her head and regarded me for a moment. “‘You have no idea what I’m going through,’” she quoted. “Do you know what a hysterectomy is, June?”

Again, I was completely thrown by the abrupt, strange shift of topic. “It’s where a doctor takes out some of a woman’s baby stuff, right?”

Faultline leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. “More or less. It’s the removal of the uterus. And do you know what an oophorectomy is?”

“No…?”

“The removal of the ovaries. Those are what generate hormones in a biological female, so anyone who has both ovaries removed needs to take hormones to replace what the body no longer produces.” My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. Is she saying…? “It’s a delicate balance. Too little, and there’s discomfort, but too much, and there are consequences like cancer.” Her eyes returned to mine, and I could only imagine the shocked expression on my face. “You want me to charge you for this. As I’m sure you’ve grasped by now, I am someone who collects what is due. Still, I offer… discounts to my crew. You are aware of Case 53s?” She waited just long enough for me to nod. “Gregor is paying me to find more details, to solve the mystery. I am not charging him as much as I would a client outside of our crew who asked the same, but there is still a cost to everything. Likewise, you are a part of my crew and are entitled to the same. Regarding this particular matter, seeing a medical professional would… put my mind at ease. Accordingly, I am willing to take your acceptance of my help in this matter as payment owed.

“I will ask you again. Is this acceptable?”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” There was no other answer I could give. I wanted to ask questions, but I forcibly smothered my curiosity. It was a hassle explaining I’m trans when I didn’t need to, and if I wasn’t wrong about her… Well, I could return the favor. “Thanks, Faultline.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You may call me Melanie when we’re in private, June.”

I huffed out a small laugh. “Sure… Melanie. I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Sleep well. Don’t forget you’re running exercises with Newter and Gregor tomorrow afternoon.”

I slipped out of the room. Gregor and now… Melanie. It was weird. I wasn’t used to business associates giving a damn about my personal life. Back home, I had been polite if it was necessary but otherwise hadn’t given two shits about the people I worked with or their opinion of me, and the same had been true from their end. This crew though…

Elle was in our room when I entered, curled up against the wall up at the head of her bed with her pillow stuffed between her back and the hard surface with her eyes fixated on a book in her lap. The pillowcase, like her bedspread, was vibrant and colorful—a rich, royal purple with flowers and birds adorning it in two lighter shades of purple as well as pure white that offset them. It was notably the only decoration on her side of the room, and her bed was the only furniture besides a small bedside table and a dresser. My side only had a bed and my suitcase for now, but I already had plans to get some more furniture and a computer after I got paid for the prisoner job.

I flopped onto my bed. God, I hadn’t really done anything physical all day, but I was spent. Testing my… my compulsion—God, it still feels unreal—was bad enough, but everything with Masuyo, Gregor, and Faul—Melanie after that? I glanced at the other girl, who seemingly hadn’t moved a muscle since I entered. “Whatcha reading, Elle?”

She jerked a bit, like she had only just then realized I was in the room. “Oh, hello.” She looked down at her book and frowned a bit. “It’s about a girl who finds another world in a wardrobe.”

“Sounds fitting. For your power, I mean.”

Elle nodded absently. She hesitated, chewing on her lip for a second. “Um… I haven’t gotten very far in. Would… would you like to read it too?”

I considered how to answer. I was drained and pretty sure I would fall asleep in short order, but… there was something hopeful in her eyes, and the others had told me about how her powers affected her. Today was a good day, but tomorrow? Nobody, least of all Elle, knew what it would bring. Maybe it was because I’d learned today how easily my own powers could overwhelm me, but…

Teammates don’t abandon each other, huh? “Alright, budge over,” I said, swinging my feet around to the floor and grabbing my own pillow. “I’m really tired, so don’t get all offended when I fall asleep, got it?” She nodded somewhat excitedly and scooted over to leave some more room at the head of her bed. I tossed my pillow against the bare patch of wall and slipped onto the colorful bedspread beside her. She held out the book, and I realized with some amused exasperation she didn’t want to read to me—she wanted me to read to her. Not quite what I’d had in mind, but whatevs. I took the book and flipped it back to the beginning.

“Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy…”