My mission bag was all in order. Two clean sets of my black bodysuit were packed, the accompanying silver accent pieces were accounted for, the strange metal scarf the girl from my old school had given me was laid over them along with my filter mask, my backpack and hip cases were loaded up with my unique ammunition, and my knives were secured together with their matching bandolier in a case. With my shield next to the bag, I was ostensibly ready to go.

I didn’t feel ready.

I looked over my shoulder to Elle and was unsurprised to find her sitting next to her own bag, waiting on me to finish. Having far less equipment came with its perks. I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I eyed the giant mushroom seat she had fashioned for herself.

“Ready?” I unnecessarily asked, trying to quell the unease in my gut.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a bob of her head before tilting it. “I don’t think you are.”

“My bag is,” I countered. A full sentence with no stumbling. How easily I used to take that for granted.

She slid off the mushroom to her feet and crossed over to me, taking my hands in hers. I tilted my head up to look at her—a novel feeling I was still coming to terms with after her recent growth spurt and my own lack thereof—and she leaned in to plant a peck on my lips.

“You still don’t like Emily.”

I sighed and looked away. “You knew?”

She gently tugged me forward, and I relaxed into her arms. “Yes. Wanted to ask, but I was afraid I might make it worse.”

“‘Worse’?”

“Jealous?”

I frowned as I processed that for a moment. “Oh. No? May-bee a beh-tah jell-us, but…”

She waited without speaking as I trailed off, trying to make sense of what I was feeling. Before I could come up with an answer, a knock at the door pulled our attention.

Elle pulled back, and I regretfully let her only to squeak in surprise when she ducked in to give me a quick, heated kiss that left my legs feeling like jelly.

“Come in,” she called out as I balanced against her in a slight daze.

Melanie opened the door and slipped inside with a canister tucked under her arm. She fixed us with a piercing look and a raised eyebrow. “I see you two are done checking your bags. Perhaps you’d like to get started on loading them?”

“Yes ma’am,” Elle replied, giving my arm a quick squeeze before moving to grab her bag and leave.

I made to do the same, but Melanie held out her hand to indicate I should stop. Once Elle had left, she continued. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about what keeps our crew together and where we draw the line.”

I tensed. “I’ve been good!”

“You have been, yes. I’m not saying you haven’t.”

Her reassurances eased my nerves, but my anxiety refused to die out altogether. Melanie had made it very clear to me last November—or more specifically, after I held an entire neighborhood hostage to ensure our escape from the Protectorate—that I had come dangerously close to crossing the line like Aisha had. Just thinking about it made my stomach twist in a knot.

“Then why…?”

“Because Sabah attacked Masuyo,” she answered, ticking off reasons on her fingers. “Because we may encounter the Teeth. Because we’ll be in your hometown in a few hours. You’ve done very well after your rocky first month, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t have this discussion with you. If you need to sit this one out—”

“No!” I blurted before I could stop myself. Melanie gave me a look, and I winced. “No, ma’am. I’m good. I’ve been do-eeng good in th-air-a-pee, and I… I think I have it under con-tuh-roll.”

“You’ve been doing well in therapy.”

I gave her a stink eye, and a small smirk crept its way into her expression.

“You slipped into a fugue at the hospital, earlier.” I winced again. “It’s happened over twice as often this past week compared to last month.”

“I… I, um…”

She turned away, and my heart skipped a beat. Was she taking the decision out of my hands and benching me? Was she finally giving up on me because of all my baggage? The crew was everything I had! I couldn’t—

Melanie shut the door and turned back to face me, an eyebrow rising as she looked at me. “Is everything okay?”

Fuck. She wasn’t… Fuck. I did my best to take a deep, calming… Well, it was a deep breath, anyway. A fugue was starting to sink into me, so I quickly pulled the coin from my pocket and started playing with it. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay.” Her expression was unreadable but for her eyes briefly flicking to the coin I had pulled out, which just as easily could have been her noting its presence and nothing else. “Can you tell me what it is about Emily that’s bothering you?”

“I didn’t say—” I cut myself off with an annoyed grunt, looking away.

“You didn’t have to.”

I huffed out a small laugh. It seemed I was, as ever, an open book. “I’m… not en-tai-err-lee sure. She see-ums… nuh-eye-ss, but…”

Melanie let the silence hang between us. Maybe she was hoping I’d continue, maybe she was collecting her own thoughts. I wasn’t sure.

I wanted to fill that void, to explain why I disliked Spitfire—Emily. But I couldn’t. How could I explain something that I didn’t understand either? I knew I should like her. She and I liked the same type of music from what Newter had mentioned in passing, she got along well with everyone, and she’d been nothing but nice to me, even when I was in one of my fugues. But at the end of the day, I just… didn’t.

“You really don’t understand why, do you?” Melanie finally said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Am I incorrect in guessing you didn’t discuss this with Dr. Drovanch on Thursday?”

It was a wonder everyone couldn’t tell what color underwear I was wearing given how shit I apparently was at hiding anything. “No, ma’am,” I admitted, hoping in probable vain that my embarrassment wasn’t obvious.

She stepped closer and held out her hand. “What keeps our crew together?”

What she was talking about finally clicked… and just as importantly, that realization led to another. Oh my fucking god, I am such a goddamn idiot!

It’s a special sort of moment when you not only realize you were the asshole all along but that realization helps you realize why you were being an asshole in the first place.

It took me a moment to gather myself as I internally berated myself over and over. I took her hand and shook it, doing my damnedest to look her in the eye as I assured her, “I will tuh-alk to her.”

“Good,” she said. “Last thing. I need you at your best while we’re out of the Bay. Minimal fugues—none if possible. If there’s anything I can arrange for you to help with that, then say the word.”

I silently nodded in reply, and she turned to leave, clearly deeming it a good enough answer.

Because she trusted me.

It had taken me a long time to realize how important that was. Back when I joined the crew—when I shook Melanie’s hand that day—I did it for money, pure and simple. But money wasn’t what drove the crew to rescue Elle and me from the Eight. Money wasn’t why everyone put their necks on the line to help me save Masuyo from the ABB. It wasn’t why we hung out together, why we ate together.

They count on me too, and I’ve been letting them down.

I huffed out a sigh and sat on my bag before lifting it into the air and navigating us through the back stairways to the loading dock. Palanquin was busy even on a Sunday like tonight, and with the hallway sharing a wall with the main room, some of the din from the music was managing to penetrate the soundproofing. Downstairs I passed a pair of employees, the older of them giving me a polite nod in acknowledgment while the younger, who looked extremely frazzled, stared wide-eyed and mouth agape before his companion subtly jabbed her elbow into his side. I only recognized the older one, and even her only by sight, but I gave them as cheery a wave as I could manage before ducking through the ajar door leading into the loading dock.

Inside I found Gregor already loading some of the gear into the back. Newter was nowhere to be seen, which either meant he was already in the van and therefore obscured by the tinted windows or else getting some last minute enjoyment on the club balcony. Elle and Emily were chatting off to the side, and while I needed to go talk to Emily, Masuyo was closer and peeled away from whatever she had been doing with Melanie to walk over to me.

Even before she reached me, it was painfully obvious she was worried about something. Was there more—? Wait, of course there was more. She’d said as much, and I had told her to tell me later. For a moment, I had the urge to insist she not tell me whatever it was. If she was this worried after admitting my dad was a Butcher…

“Hey,” she nervously said.

I opened my mouth, primed to deflect this discussion to later… But no. Fuck that. Hadn’t I just been thinking about how I was letting everyone down?

“What was it you want-ed to talk ah-buh-out err-lee-er?” I forced myself to ask, trying to mimic the sort of reassuring tone I could see her using. I didn’t think it suited me well.

“You, uh…You and I…” She groaned. “I have no idea how to say this.”

“Tuh-ake your tie-em. It’s okay—” I stopped, inspiration striking. “No. Buh-and-ay-duh.”

“Wait, what?”

I couldn’t channel her, but maybe she could channel me. “If you duh-oh-nt know how to say it like you, thuh-en say it like me. Ruh-ip off the buh-and-ay-duh.”

She silently stared for a moment, and just when I had begun to suspect I hadn’t come across clearly due to my speech problem, she blurted, “Fuck it. We’re half sisters. The PRT paid me to spy on you. Your last name is Anderson.”

That… was certainly ripping off the band-aid. And also more than I expected. Masuyo was watching me carefully for my reaction. “Ehn-der-son?”

“Y-Yeah. I, uh, expect you don’t care about the first name.”

Well you’re not wrong. “Pee-Arr-Tee?”

“Because of your dad. Or that’s what they told me, anyway. I swear I told them basically nothing and I only used the money on you! I didn’t exactly have much money to use for you, so…”

“Sis-tuh-ers?”

“Mom… was a bitch.”

Huh. I ran over all of that. Then I ran over it again. And a third time.

“June…?” Masuyo was on the verge of tears, looking like she might implode at any moment.

I slipped forward, off of my still hovering bag, landing lightly on the worn concrete. Taking care to make sure I didn’t exacerbate her injuries, I leaned in and gave her a gentle hug. “Not hap-pee ah-buh-out Pee-Arr-Tee. And yes—muh-om was a bitch.”

“Ha,” she breathed out, half a laugh and half a sigh of relief. “Of all the words… Of course you practiced that one.”

“Got-tah pruh-ack-tiss the im-por-tuh-unt ones! Bitch, shit, fuck, douche…”

I smiled as she began laughing in earnest. She sounded relieved—free.

My attention was tugged away when Melanie’s phone rang. We pulled apart as she quickly answered it. “Yes? … How long? … Excellent. See you shortly.” She hung up and said, “We leave in ten—ensure everything is loaded, and do whatever you still need to do before we leave.”

I turned back to Masuyo. I had meant to ask this earlier, but with everything going on, it had slipped my mind. “Puh-an-uh-say-a?” Woof, that’s a tough one. Let’s try a different tactic… “Ay-me? I cuh-uhd call…”

“No, no,” she insisted, waving me off. “Melanie was so worried last time we got her involved. Burns aren’t great, but they aren’t shattered bone. With how soon you need to leave, it’s probably better if I just heal naturally.”

I nodded, secretly relieved. With the cold shoulder I had been getting on PHO, I hadn’t actually been sure I could arrange anything. I just knew I would have regretted not saying anything.

Elle left Emily to walk towards the bay door, and I took that as my cue. I stepped over to the van and waited for Gregor to give me the okay to load my bag, then I turned to where Emily leaned against the wall, reading something on her phone. I hesitated, just for an instant, then I pulled it together and crossed the room.

“Meteor?” Emily asked, looking up from her phone as I approached.

My crew trusts you… and I trust them. “June.”

“Huh?”

“June,” I repeated, sticking out my hand, and doing my best to ignore the creeping sensation of a fugue sneaking up on me. “Sorry ah-buh-out bee-ing a bitch.”

She reached out to shake hands, a small, tentative smile on her face. “I hadn’t earned enough Meteor points yet, right?”

“Still have to err-nuh moh-err,” I joked, sticking my tongue out at her.

That earned me some chuckles. “Right on.”

I gave her a quick little wave and turned towards the door, intent on going to the bathroom and raiding the kitchen before we left. I pulled the coin in my pocket out and nearly sighed in relief as the haze gathering in my head slipped away.

I’d been such an idiot. Why had it taken me so long to figure it out? The frequency of my fugues began picking up pace a week ago when we began talking about recruiting Emily.

Recruitment… Was it any wonder I’d been thinking about Aisha more lately? That I’d been having trouble trusting?

Before long all of us except Masuyo piled into the van, and Melanie pulled out into the streets of the Bay. Even with the lighter traffic at this time of night, it would still probably be twenty minutes until we were on the open road, but Melanie wasted no time getting us started.

“Gregor, please start the slides.”

He pressed a few keys on the laptop, and the medium-sized TV set up just behind the driver’s and passenger’s seats shifted from Melanie’s background image to a picture of what appeared to be a group of homeless people in a sewer. Many of them were congregated around a burning trash can, and all of them looked cold.

“These are our likely suspects for the theft—the Blinds.”

Newter took the obvious bait, speaking up from the back. “Uh, boss? Looks like some random hobos.”

“Precisely. The Blinds are a gang based out of the New York sewers that eschew costumes in favor of protecting their identities by hiding amongst the crowd. The only Blind with a known appearance is their leader, Tint, whose power interferes with cameras capturing his image.

“Any homeless person could very well be a member, and that will make our job very difficult. As I mentioned at Palanquin, the ransom specified payoff instructions to the Blinds. The mayor stressed the importance of keeping the thieves—be they the Blinds or an as yet identified other party—in the dark about his efforts to recover the blackmail, but we have no reason to suspect he’s put all his eggs in one basket. Either the Blinds are the true thieves and will already be on high alert to keep their leverage safe, or else the inevitable increased interest of outside parties in the goings-ons in the sewers will cause much the same.”

“You mentioned we know the leader’s power,” Emily spoke up, sounding a bit anxious. “What do we know about their powers?”

“We’ll get there in a moment,” Melanie replied. “Next slide, Gregor.”

The picture changed, and my chest constricted just a bit at the map on the screen. “The mayor’s office is located at the southern end of Manhattan, and the Blinds are only known to operate in Brooklyn and Queens, hence the lingering question of whether this is a frame job. Newter, we’ll have you investigating areas known to be frequented by the Blinds in the past in the hopes of locating them. I’ve arranged for some contacts to begin similar investigations, but you should be able to move much faster than them while being discreet about our interest. Next slide.

A list of capes was next, and after a quick glance over it, I immediately noticed a name was missing and reached for the Etch-A-Sketch I left out just for this purpose. There was a good bit to say, so my speech impediment would be a huge drain on time.

“It’s a mistake to focus solely on capes when dealing with a large group, especially for this particular batch,” Melanie began to say as I handed the red toy to Elle next to me, “but it’s an understandable mistake. Nevertheless, we’ll start here because in this case the general nature of the power Blinds’ powers informs how the tactics the group as a whole uses.

“I mentioned before that their leader, Tint, has a power that interferes with appearing on camera. He’s a Stranger, and the main thrust of his power is he cannot be seen or heard by anyone who is not directly looking at him. Introducing an intermediary element like a camera results in him being imperceivable. I also mentioned earlier that he has a known appearance. Tint is a Case-53 with a normally shaped body with matte black patches covering his skin. I wasn’t able to determine whether Tint is intangible to someone who cannot perceive him—be aware that this may be the case. If he isn’t, then Labyrinth is likely our best counter.

“Next we have Cistern. He projects high pressure water from his extremities with varying effects. First, he is able to change the direction of the water mid-stream. He can reportedly do this more than once per stream, but it’s unclear if there are any limitations to this. His second and primary use is rapid movement using the high pressure release of the water. His max speed is unknown—presume it’s very fast..

“Claymore is the most deadly threat we’re aware of, but it bears repeating that there may be more. His power is forming localized bombs out of nearby material. We know he can create several bombs simultaneously and that the blast becomes stronger the longer he takes to prepare the bomb, but we’re unaware of how large his range is.

“Finally we have Mischief. Another Case-53, Mischief has the power to separate their body into rats and reform out of the same. Mischief has been observed controlling rats, but it’s unclear whether these rats are offshoots from the original body or separate and mastered. I mentioned Mischief is a Case-53, and you may recall I mentioned we only have one confirmed appearance in the group—Tint. I phrased it this way because there have been many discrepancies in this cape’s appearance in reports of encounters, with the sole unifying element being the presence of dark fur covering the skin and a misshapen appearance.”

Elle glanced down at the beginning of my message on the Etch-A-Sketch and said, “Melanie, wait.”

“Yes?”

“May be another cape.”

“Explain,” Melanie requested, all business as she steered the van through street lamp illuminated streets.

“June’s old group in Brooklyn. Says they encountered the Blinds a few times. There was a teleporter they never saw, who moved them far away. Made chase impossible.” Her speech patterns were starting to slip. If she was beginning to cycle towards some bad days, then that would be good for the job but sad for her. I reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“I see. That’s quite troubling, as it has the potential to make our job much harder. Thank you for bringing this up. I’ll see what else I can dig up on this ‘Teleporter.’

“For now though, our focus isn’t the Blinds. As I mentioned earlier, we need an alibi for our presence in New York. If we’re noticed but haven’t taken any publicly visible jobs, it’s possible the blackmailers may link us back to the mayor’s office. To avoid that, we’re going to do something very visible. Gregor?”

The screen changed, and my jaw dropped. No fucking way.

In the seat in front of us, Emily scratched her head in confusion. “Wait, New York City has a casino?”