Antionette Richards smoked a Camel White outside of a hole-in-the-wall Northwest Bank. She wore only white and carried a paper bag. She brushed her straight white hair out of her face. She tapped the toe of her white stiletto on the ground. She looked across the street and saw a scrawny guy about her height. He was selling Vicodin to a 14 year old. Antionette pretended not to see. Her dark skin glowed in the afternoon sunlight. She threw her cigarette down and stamped it out before walking in. It smelled of stale carpet and fresh paper. She asked to open an account and poured $25,000 out onto the table. The teller gave a shocked expression before adjusting her glasses and reaching for the phone. Antionette held up a hand before she could start dialing.

“I inherited this.” Antionette said. The teller drew her hand back.

“From whom?” The teller asked.

“My mother.” Antionette brought a tear to the eye. “She got lung cancer a few months back. Wasn’t long before the funeral came around. She put a few dollars into her mattress every day. This is all the money she had in the world.”

“All the money she had in the world was exactly $25,000?”

“She took out the difference from her retirement.” Antionette’s leg bounced on the ground as she stared into the middle distance. “I guess she figured she don’t need it.”

“Alright.” The teller said, gesturing. “Alright, I’ll open the account.”

“Thank you so much, miss.” The teller gave a wave of the hand and a roll of the eye. Once Antionette filled out all of the paperwork, she walked out of the bank, smirking. As she lit up another cigarette, she heard a blasting cap go off in the distance, then a long piece of fabric fluttering. She saw purple and yellow out of her peripheral vision. Siren silently landed next to her. They walked about half a block before Siren broke the silence.

“That was a good story.” Pittsburgh’s resident crimefighter said.

“What?” Antionette asked.

“‘I inherited this.’ Playing into their sympathies. That’s smart.”

“I don’t have to answer to you.”

“Believe me, I’m not prying. You found that briefcase fair and square. I was just making sure that it went into good hands. You probably need it more than who had it before.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“I didn’t get your name.” Siren stopped and extended a gloved hand. Antionette faced her, grimacing.

“Antionette,” she said, “but my friends call me Nette.” The two shook hands.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Nette. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“How exactly did you find that money?”

“What was it about not having to answer to you?”

“Fine, I’ll be honest about the prying. But I do have to ask, what are you planning on doing with that money?”

Antionette stopped and sighed. “If you must know, I’m leaving my... boyfriend.”

“Need a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Cause there’s this place down the block: Morrison House.”

“I said I’ll figure something out.” Antionette waved a hand and left Siren behind. She lit up another cigarette. On the way back home, she did actually pass Morrison House. It looked like an old rec center or something that they turned into a shelter. Some people were outside playing games. Others could be seen meandering about inside. She sighed when she heard a young voice from her left.

“Could I bum one?” The voice asked. Nette turned around. It was a short redhead in a hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. She couldn’t have asked for a more harmless kid. She gave him a Camel and they ended up chatting. His name was Jason McMurray.

“So you used to work for the suits, huh?” Antionette asked.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Jason answered, exhaling smoke. “Another way you could say it is that I did one bust with them and they let a supervillain murder my family.”

“Christ.” Nette sighed. “Is it just me or are things getting worse out there?”

“I think they are.” Jason reached into his pocket. “But what do we do when things get worse?”

“What?”

Jason pulled out a snub nose and handed it to her. “We adapt.” Nette looked back and forth before taking the sidearm and stuffing it into her white leather purse.

“You want anything for this?” Nette asked.

“Just be careful.” Jason shook his head. Dark clouds began subtly forming on the horizon. “Storm’s brewin’. It’s a dark day in dreamland.”

————————————————

It started to downpour just as Nette made it back to her house. The place smelled of incense and ganja. Various people’s clothes cluttered in a sea on the floor. Nette was bombarded with surround sound speakers playing trap music and shooter games. Skittles sat in the middle of the couch in front of her. A woman was draped on him, his chapped, pasty lips on the end of a blunt.

“Well if it isn’t Camel White?” Skittles asked. He smiled, showing his multicolored grill.

“I told you not to call me that.” Antionette said. She took off her jacket, revealing a white corset.

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I wanna call you. Where were you?”

“Out.” Nette walked toward the kitchen. Skittles followed. The length of his bright orange raincoat flowed behind him. Nette started making a sandwich.

“Were you doing something with that money?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She plopped down a dollop of mayo. A young blonde walked past them, trying to block her face and holding the bump on her belly. It didn’t stop Nette from noticing a black eye. “What did you do to Zoe?”

Skittles chuckled, blocking Zoe from going into the living room. “Now I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Antionette approached him.

“You are such a son of a bitch.” She growled. Skittles grabbed Zoe by the throat.

“What in the shit did you just say to me?” Zoe could barely squeak out “please” in between breaths. Nette reached into her purse and pulled out the snub nose. She aimed it at his head.

“Put her down.” She ordered. “Right now.” She pulled the hammer back on the pistol. He backed away from Zoe and pulled out a pocket knife. Nette shot him in the head before he was able to stab down at her. The kickback sent her back about half a foot. There was a ringing in her and Zoe’s ears, accompanied by the thunderous downpour. They were splattered with blood and brain. Slowly, all the other girls in the house started flowing into the kitchen. Nette stood there with tears welling in her eyes. She held the gun, shaking. She dropped it next to Skittles’ body, smoke still billowing out of the barrel. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her white wig. “Get rid of it.”

“What are you saying?” Carmen poked out from the corner.

“Get rid of the body.” Nette said, picking up the gun. “I don’t care if you chop him up into little pieces and put him in a fucking Wendy’s dumpster, just get rid of him.” She went over to Zoe, wiped the gore off of her face. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.”

————————————————

Cobalt and the Charade were soaked when they got back to the book-cave. Cobalt’s blonde hair was draped over his blue goggles. The Charade’s black wig was frizzy and all over the place. She struggled to pull it and her white bauta mask off of her head. A small stream of water followed them in as Tanner Bishop let out a yelp, jumping up from his supercomputer.

“Hey, hey. I got expensive equipment over here.” He said.

“I already shut the door, dipshit.” Cobalt said, peeling the wet bandana off of his face. “God damn, it is raining cats and dogs out there.” Eric Petersen shook his head, letting droplets fly from his hair and beard like a golden retriever.

“Fuck cats and dogs.” Izzy Guevara-Robinson said, taking off her black blazer. It did little to stop the rain from darkening her red button-up a few shades. “Everybody always says it’s raining cats and dogs. Why not other animals?”

“It’s raining rats and ferrets?” Eric asked, stepping behind a shelf at the end of the room to change into his civvies.

“That could work.” Izzy said. “Ferrets do murder rats after all.”

Tanner turned around with a shocked expression on his face. “Do you know that from personal experience?” He said, slapping his knees for emphasis.

“No, but-” Izzy’s phone buzzed. It was dripping when she pulled it out. “Shit.” She flung it onto the cot by the door and started damping it into the bedspread. She took short, quick breaths. The springs of the cot strained audibly under the pressure. “Shitshitshitshitshit.”

“What is it?” Eric asked.

“It’smymom. She’stryingtotextmebutmyphoneisruined. Ohgodohgod. Fuckfuckfuck.” Tears slowly streamed out of her eyes. It was then that Siren entered the book-cave. Only a small pool of water followed her into the basement. Her purple boots squished ever so slightly. She immediately took off her mask and let the panicked eyes of Liz Moto scan out the situation. Eric suggested getting some rice before going upstairs. Liz crouched next to Izzy and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “WhatdoIdo?WhatdoIdo?WhatdoIdo?” Izzy rambled.

Liz pulled a cell phone from her utility belt and made a call. “What’s up, S? Staying dry?” answered Dani Guevara from the other end of the line.

“Not particularly,” Liz said in the cadence of Siren. “Izzy’s phone got wet and died as soon as you texted her and now she’s kinda freaking out.”

“Okay, okay.” Dani said, stashing files away at her precinct desk. “Just put Izzy on the phone. And while you’re at it, get her walkman. That usually helps.” Liz followed the directions. Izzy shakily put the phone up to her ear as her mentor rifled around in her backpack. “Hey champ. Everything okay?”

“I th-th-think my phone is broken.” Izzy used her free arm to hold herself in the tightest grip she could. “I didn’t realize it was r-raining this hard. I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.”

“Kiddo, kiddo, don’t worry about it. It’s an act of God. We can get you a new phone. I was just wondering where you were and now I know you’re in the book-cave. No hard feelings.”

“Okay.” Izzy took a deep breath, still shaking. “When did you want me home?”

Dani looked out at the pouring rain. “I don’t know if I want you walking home in this weather. Why don’t you just stay with the capes tonight? They have a bed there right?”

“Ar-are you sure?”

“Yeah, I trust them and I trust you. I’m probably gonna stay at the precinct until this storm blows over. I’ll see you tomorrow morning alright?”

Izzy sniffled. “Alright.”

“Te amo.”

“Te amo también.” As Izzy hung up the phone, Liz passed the walkman. She put the headphones in and hit play. Some sustaining piano chords rang out as a song ended. The tape picked right back up with the acoustic version of Motion City Soundtrack’s Fell In Love Without You. Izzy took some deep breaths as the track played on. Eric opened the door to the basement, walking down with a Monopoly box.

“No rice,” Eric said. “but I brought some entertainment in case the storm keeps holding up.”

Izzy looked down at the ground, contorting her foot around and about. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Liz asked as Eric started setting up the board on the floor by the cot. Tanner looked over, groaned, and pulled up Civilization VI on the main monitor.

“I’m sorry that you had to see me like that.”

“Don’t ever apologize for the way you look.” Eric said. “Now are you playing or not?” A grin crept upon Izzy’s face.

————————————————

When Nette woke up the next morning, birds were chirping outside. She got up, took a shower, and made a fresh pot of coffee. She drank most of it while practicing the draw on her snub nose. The entire kitchen smelled like bleach. They ended up dumping Skittles in a 7-Eleven dumpster. Then they spent all night cleaning up the blood. The linoleum was still a little orange. The way marinara sauce never comes out of tupperware.

She was greeted by every other girl in the house sitting in the living room, waiting for her. She scratched her head and pulled her oversized shirt over her underwear. Zoe looked up at her.

“What do we do now?” Zoe asked. Nette grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table, reaching over a few girls on the way. She lit one up and scratched her eyebrow.

“We need to look out for each other.” Nette said, exhaling smoke. “That’s why we’re in this shit, right? ‘Cause I was looking out for Zoe. But if I didn’t do what I did, he could’ve killed her and her fucking baby and I can’t just stand by and watch anymore. We’re on our own, guys. The cops aren’t looking out for us. God knows the fucking wonder twins aren’t looking out for us either.”

“Nette, you still haven’t answered our question.” Carmen stood up, angry. “What are we going to do?” Antionette took a long puff off her cigarette, nodding.

“I know what we’re gonna do.” She said. “I just put some money away. I’m gonna take a good bit out.” Nette walked over to her purse and pulled out the snub nose. “Everybody’s getting one of these.”

“Why do we need those?” Someone asked. This caused the room to softly erupt into a flurry of questions. Antionette raised her hands up and shouted over them, eventually they stopped.

“We need them because shit stains like the one we mopped off the floor last night are still out there and it’s only a matter of time before one of them comes for us.” She went upstairs and the room was left in a dull silence. When she came back down, she had on her white wig. The straight hair waved softly over her camo shirt. She tucked the snub nose in the back of her pants and went for the door.

“Where are you going?” Zoe asked, wobbling to stand up.

“I need to take care of something. I’ll be back in a minute.” Antionette walked out into the street. The summer sun was baking the concrete, sending steam up as she walked down to the Northwest. She got her money out and then heard a voice.

“Oh shit, it’s the Pimp Popper.” Antionette turned around and saw the pill slinger from yesterday. His laughing mouth showed the gap between his front teeth. He hobbled over to her. “Are you making a withdrawal?” He asked. “How about a deposit? I’m sure you got Skittles’ stash after you dusted him.”

“How long?” Nette asked.

“What are you talking about?” Antionette pulled her snub nose out and aimed it at his chest. She grabbed his collar and led him into a nearby alley.

“How long have you been selling pills to kids?” She asked, pulling the hammer back.

“I don’t w-wanna be rude.” He stuttered. “But I don’t think that’s any of your business, lady.”

“What’s your name?”

“L-lamont. Lamont Defruene.”

“How much are you holding, Lamont Defruene?” Lamont gave Nette a bag full of pills. She walked out into the street and dumped it into a sewer grate. She kept the gun on Lamont and walked up to him. “If I see you selling drugs to kids again, you’re a fucking memory.” She whispered. “I know your name, and it’s so easy to find people these days.”

————————————————

Izzy woke up the next morning to Ms. Jessica Dillon walking down into the book-cave. Izzy had her trench coat draped over her in lieu of a blanket. Ms. Dillon, the owner of the Yorba Public Library, was carrying a tray with a small breakfast on it: half a sandwich, an apple, and a cup of coffee. Izzy sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“It’s almost 11 o’clock.” Ms. Dillon answered. She picked up an empty Coke can and placed it gently in the wastebasket next to Tanner’s battlestation. “Your mom called Liz again, she said she’s worried about you. You should probably get home.”

“Okay.” Izzy gathered her things in her drawstring bag and started towards the exit when she turned around. “Ms. Dillon, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” Jessica sat down on the stairs, smiling.

“What’s it like being the mother of a superhero?” Izzy felt the mask in her bag poking her in the spine.

“Oh my.” Ms. Dillon shook her head. “You know, it hasn’t been easy. I wouldn’t say that it’s a burden, because it’s not. It’s truly a blessing to have a child that is so courageous and strong and principled. That said though, I worry about her. Some nights I have to take some melatonin to fall asleep because I’m up thinking about what might be happening.” She took a pause and looked up at Izzy. “Have I ever told you the story of when I found out she was Siren?”

“No. What happened?”

“I was furious. I couldn’t believe she could keep that secret from me. That was right after they took David Allen in. The part I was the most angry though, was that Eric was sleeping on our couch at the time as well. I found them both changing into their costumes in the basement one night and I screamed at both of them. I almost kicked Eric out onto the street until Liz talked me down. After I heard about the way they were helping people, though, I saw the bigger picture. I’m sure that your mom sees the bigger picture too. That’s why her and Liz get along so well. You better get home, kid.”

————————————————

Over the next few weeks, crime in the five block radius around Antionette’s Knoxville house went down. She gave all the girls guns. Some glocks, some snub noses like hers. Then she gave them all a homework assignment. Every night, patrol the street and keep people safe. Antionette would often go out on patrol with a squad of girls, wearing all white. She split the rest of her briefcase money. One half she saved in a tin can beside her bedside table. The other half would go to helping people in the neighborhood get groceries. The house ran like clockwork. They made more in that month than in the past three when Skittles was still around. Besides that, none of the girls were hurt during those weeks either.

“So, they’re calling her what? The Pimp Popper?” Sam Trent asked, shoving a breakfast sandwich into his mouth. He was riding with Dani Guevara. They were going to the house to question Antionette about Skittles’ disappearance. Turns out he was an informant.

“I guess so.” Dani replied, exhaling smoke and turning the corner. Her Mitsubishi Sigma squealed as the power steering tried desperately to turn over.

“I’ll never understand those people.”

“You mean the media?”

“Yeah, right. The media.” They pulled up at Antionette’s house. There were two girls sitting on plastic lawn chairs on the porch. The detectives walked up and asked for Nette. After some haggling, she eventually came down, clad in a tank-top and sweatpants.

“What can I do you for?” She asked.

“We were wondering if we could ask you some questions.” Dani said, pulling out a notepad. “Where is Garfield Scotch? Isn’t this his house?”

Antionette sighed and lit up a Camel. Dani took a deep breath as the smoke wafted over to her. “Skittles is out of town.” Nette said.

“Got any more specifics than that?” Trent asked. “Where was he going? How long has he been gone?” He sniffed around a bit. “Is that bleach I smell?”

“I don’t know where the fuck he was going.” Nette answered. “He just up and left about a week and half ago, I think.”

“That was the night of that flooding, wasn’t it?” Trent slicked his blonde hair back. “We got reports of shots fired out here but couldn’t get a squad car out in the rain.” He approached Nette. She blew smoke right in his face. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“We were playing video games.” A squad of patrol girls came around the corner, stopping across the street from the officers. Dani noted them. “Call of Duty. Shit like that.”

“It was so loud during a rainstorm that it was reported as a shot?” Dani asked. Trent put his hands on the back of his belt. Antionette nodded. A little boy ran out into the street and pointed at the cops. His oversized hoodie dangled over his arm.

“Leave Miss Nette alone!” He squeaked. “She helped out my mom.” Trent reached for his sidearm. Before Dani could get her hand up to block him, ten girls were aiming guns at them. Antionette stared them down, smoking and smiling. Dani instinctively put her hands up a bit. Trent stashed his weapon and backed towards the car. Nette walked down and came face to face with Dani.

“You never point a gun at one of my own.” She put out her cigarette on the concrete. “Skittles skipped town. Probably because of all the heat you were bringing him. Now, unlike him, I don’t talk to cops. If you really want to know what goes on in this house, come back with a fucking warrant.”

————————————————

Dani Guevara sat on the fire escape by her apartment, smoking. Each time she finished a Marlboro, she tossed the butt down into the street, watching as sparks flew over the asphalt. She ran her hands through her hair and looked down at her watch. She told Siren to come meet her, alone, at 9:25. It was 9:43. That’s when she heard slight footsteps followed by leather gloves sliding down metal.

“How are you holding up?” Siren asked, sporting the kind of grin you’d see at a funeral.

“Fine.” Dani lit up another cigarette. “I haven’t looked at the news. Is it that bad?”

“They’re running Trent through the mud, that’s for sure. Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. You on the other hand, people are having a hard time landing on.” Dani sighed and hit her cigarette for half a minute. She blew it away from the superhero.

“Can you give me a quote?” She asked.

“You want good or bad?”

“Bad. I should know what I’m up against.”

“I don’t know if I can remember any verbatim.”

“I want a quote, S.”

Siren sighed. “‘Dani Guevara would like us to believe she stands for hope and justice, but deep down she’s just like every other cop.’” A silence fell between the two, only interrupted occasionally by a yell or a car horn. “What are we gonna do about this Pimp Popper character?”

“Nette. Her name is Nette. As far as what we do, I’m not sure.” Dani lit up another. “She told me to come back with a warrant. With all the media around this stop, that’s gonna take a bit. Do you think you could go talk to her?”

“I’ve met her before, I don’t know if I would have much clout.”

“Well you would certainly have more clout than me or anybody else in the goddamn department for that matter. Look, I’ve been helping you out for how long now? Could you please just do me this favor?” Siren nodded and swung off. A few blocks over, she put a finger to her ear.

“Turing, did you get that?” She asked. Back at the book-cave, Tanner Bishop sat lonesome at his battlestation, pulling up the address of Nette’s home.

“Yeah,” he answered. “And honestly, I’m not sure what to make of all of this, Liz. I think she had the right to point that gun at Dani. If you’re going in for a fist-fight, consider this my resignation.”

“Noted.”

————————————————

It started to rain just as Siren swung into the neighborhood. Approaching the house, she saw a squad of girls in raincoats leaving. She used her thermal vision. There were only about three people inside. She climbed in through an open window. A queen sized bed sat in the center of the room. Across from it was a desk. A bag of red crystals lay upon it. Siren took a sample and stashed it in her utility belt. Just as she fastened the pouch closed, Antionette walked in. She was smoking a cigarette, wearing her white costume. She held a gun in her hand, covered in white ball gloves. She sat on the bed and crossed her legs, her white fishnets creating a criss-cross pattern. She chuckled, exhaling smoke.

“So they pulled a gun on us and then sent in the banana ninja.” She said. “Ain’t that rich?”

“How’d you start?” Siren asked.

“Smoking or killing?”

“Let’s try both. Start with smoking. We can ease into this.”

“I bet you’re one of those people who gets up on a soapbox about smoking, huh?”

“As a matter of fact, my boyfriend smokes.”

“Is your boyfriend the nerd in the blue?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Siren crossed her arms, then her legs. The crimefighter gave an easy grin.

“If you must know, I started smoking when I was thirteen.” Nette said. “Same reason as everybody else, anxiety and stress.” A silence fell between the two. Nette took another hit of her Camel. Blue smoke wafted past Siren, the light from a small lamp beckoning down between them.

“What happened to Skittles?” Siren asked.

“Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know. I’m trying to forget about it myself.”

“So you did kill him?”

“I didn’t fucking say that.”

“I’m just trying to get the story straight here.”

“You want your fucking story?” Nette flicked her cigarette out the window. “Skittles was a dumb-fuck, shit stain, piece of garbage who threatened one of my girls. He pulled a knife on me so I painted the kitchen with his brains. I’ll testify to that.”

“If that’s the story, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about, self defense is-”

“I know what the fucking law is, okay? Do you think I don’t know how to Google shit?”

“I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Well, I’m sure as shit offended that you’re even here in the first place.” She lit up another. “You saw what was in that video. Got a few different angles from the passersby. He tried to pull a gun on an eight year old boy, so my girls pulled their pieces to get a fucking message across.”

“And what message would that be?”

“That we’re done being trampled on. You think you’re so fucking righteous, don’t you? You and all your super-friends think you can throw on some flashy costume and that means we can trust your judgement.”

“I think my judgement can be trusted.”

“Really? You’re working with scum like Sam Trent busting people for arbitrary laws that nobody agreed to in the first place. You are a tool of the system, Siren. You may think you’re bringing order and justice to this city, but you’re not. If you’re lucky, in the next few years, all you and the arrow guy will be are tourist attractions. You’ll end up like that fucking lizard on Hollywood Strip. Just coming in every few days to have a grudge match with a dude with lasers for fists or some shit. And what happens to us then? If I had taken your advice and gone to Morrison House and started my life over, what would Zoe have done when Skittles beat the baby out of her? What would have happened to little Mason when Sam or some other fuckhead eventually pulls a gun on him? What happens to people like me when you’re not around to save us anymore?” Antionette adjusted her wig and stood up, holding the cigarette in her mouth. She examined her gun. “Get out. I’ve said my piece.”

“But I haven’t said mine.” Siren said, standing up. “Once I’ve spoken, I’ll leave. We’ve come this far. How much can a few words hurt?” Antionette turned around.

“Fine.” She said. “You have sixty seconds before I put a bullet in your purple head.”

“You’re right.” Siren said. “The system can’t be trusted. Why do you think I put on this costume in the first place? And when it comes to a lot of people in the capes and tights community, they don’t care. They just do it for the glory or the thrill or the revenge or what have you. But Cobalt and I are different. At least, we’re trying to be. We don’t just uphold the laws, we try to uphold what’s right, regardless of whether it benefits some higher structure or not. We aim to make people’s lives better through what we do. As for what will happen when we’re not around to save you. Well, that’s a good question isn’t it? People have to be self-reliant after all. If you can’t protect what you love, then what can you do really? I respect what you’re doing, Antionette. A lot actually. If I had been in different circumstances, I would like to think that I would do the same thing. I don’t agree with your methods, but I don’t think I have room to judge.”

“My girls have never killed anybody. The only casualty in this has been Skittles. We have a code. Don’t draw your weapon unless you’re in immediate danger.”

“That’s good. There aren’t a lot of people that I can trust to do what you do.”

“What are you saying?”

“This is your neighborhood. I think that you should be able to do whatever you want in it. You’re protecting what’s important to you. I’m not going to stop a group of citizens fighting for what they think is right. Especially if they’re being smart about it. I think this Pimp Popper thing-”

“I am not the Pimp Popper.” Nette took a long drag off her cigarette. “I am Astrea.” Siren cracked a smile, heading to the window.

“I’ll see you around, Astrea.” As Nette listened to Siren’s grapple gun go off in the distance, she practiced her draw.

————————————————

Izzy Guevara-Robinson brought a paper bag full of Spak Brothers Pizza to her mother. She was listening to Eric’s tape, bopping along to Smashing Pumpkins’ 1979. Dani was drunk when her daughter entered the living room. She kept flipping between channels. Didn’t even notice Izzy there. Izzy approached slowly and crouched down. She placed the paper bag in her mother’s lap. Dani jumped.

“Izzy.” Dani exclaimed, grasping her bottle. “I didn’t see you come in. How was Katie’s, honey?”

“It was f-f-fine, mom.” Izzy said.

“Strategies.” Dani pinched her nose and then looked down at the food. “Meatball calzone?”

“Yeah.” Izzy said, embarrassed. She looked over at the TV. It was the news. “Is it that bad?”

Dani cradled Izzy’s head in her arm. “It’s worse than you could ever imagine, kiddo. But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this.” Dani let Izzy go. She drunkenly fished the cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one up. Izzy tried to speak up, but Dani waved a hand, exhaling smoke. “Izzy, please. I need this right now. Can you please just let me have this?” Izzy stood up and went into her room. Once Dani lit up another, Izzy emerged in her Charade suit. She brushed the black curly hair of her wig out of her face and made a way for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go deal with something.” Izzy said in the cold voice of the Charade. She put on her mask in the hallway and walked out through the roof. She pulled out an iPod Touch and pulled up a picture of the standoff. She saw the panic in her mother’s eyes. She quickly diverted her attention to the address number. It looked familiar. She could be there in just a few minutes. She jumped down and started on her way. After a few steps she heard a projectile land in a wall, followed swiftly by footsteps.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Cobalt asked, stashing his bow.

“I’m going to have a meeting with the Pimp Popper.” The Charade said, clenching her fists.

“Siren already did. Everything’s sorted out.” Cobalt approached and faced her.

“Did she turn her in?”

“No, it didn’t shake out that way. Turns out vigilante justice is in this season. We don’t feel the need to stomp on anybody’s choices.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Eric?” Charade asked with a scowl. “She pointed a gun at my mom. She has to pay.”

“World’s not that black and white, kid. Your parents aren’t always in the right. I would think that you would know that by now.”

“What are you saying?”

“Listen, I’m not very good at playing the authority figure, but I have to step in here. You are not roughing up Antionette Richards.”

“You’re just doing this because Siren told you to.”

“We make decisions together. We’re a team. A team that I thought you were a part of. Now you can go do what you’re gonna do. I won’t stop you. But understand this: if you use force against someone that we’ve deemed isn’t a threat, you’re off the team.” Cobalt stepped off the roof and fired a grapple arrow across the street. Before he fell he was able to squeeze out “Think about it, hero.” The Charade sat down. She looked down at her iPod. Observing the surroundings, the house was just about a block away. She took a deep breath and then took off her mask, then her wig, then her gloves. She stored them in the breast pocket of her suit and made her way down to the street. She caught a bus downtown. She was barely able to connect to a McDonald’s WiFi when she approached River Vue apartments. She brought up Facebook and messaged Katie Kohl, telling her to come to the ground floor. While she waited, she adjusted her curly, faded orange hair. She sighed, pulling a pen apart and putting it back together.

“You just come from a wedding or something?” Katie asked from behind her. Izzy turned around and scanned her. She had on flip-flops, sweat-pants, a night shirt and a bathrobe.

“No, no.” Izzy blushed and looked down at her loafers. “I was just in the neighborhood and-”

“Is it your mom?”

“Kind of.” Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. “She was drunk and, and… a-and I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. I just feel like I should do something, but there’s nothing that I can do. I just need to do something.” Izzy’s eyes began to swell with tears. Katie smiled and brushed her tangled, silver hair out of her eye, approaching Izzy.

“Sometimes all you can do is just be there for someone.” She said, wiping a tear off Izzy’s face. Izzy brought a hand up. She quickly leaned in for a kiss. Katie’s eyes lit up on impact. Izzy quickly realized what she had done and backed away.

“I am so sorry.” Izzy said, waving her hands for emphasis.

Katie chuckled. “It’s okay.” she said. She walked up to Izzy and put a hand on her shoulder. “What brought that on?”

Izzy turned her head. “We’ve been on three dates. My friend Eric says after three dates is a good time to kiss someone. I’m sorry. I’ve never really dated anybody.” Katie turned Izzy around.

“Are we dating?”

“I don’t know. Are we?” Kate grabbed Izzy’s hands and brought her focus in.

“Is that something you would like?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Not everything works out. That doesn’t mean things aren’t worth doing. And Izzy, I want to do this with you.” Izzy smiled and gave her a straight answer. In the course of a few minutes they went from friends to girlfriends. Izzy took a bus home. When she got back, the TV was still going. There were cigarette burns in the recliner. Izzy tried to rub them out with a damp thumb.

————————————————

The next morning, Antionette got a package in the mail. After digging through a massive amount of bubble wrap, she came across a flip phone. The only contact in it was Siren. It came with a note.

“Call if you need anything

-S”

She stashed the phone in the desk in her bedroom. She watched as the sun rose on her neighborhood and she smiled her widest smile.

————————————————

Sam Trent was put on administrative leave after the incident in Knoxville. He spent the next few days stuck in his apartment, ordering takeout and going through his watchlist on Hulu. Eventually, he didn’t even get dressed for the day anymore. About a week after the incident, he was going to bed when he heard something coming from the living room. He pulled out a pistol and went in.

“You’re not going to shoot me with that, are you?” a deep, raspy voice greeted Sam. There was a man in a hoodie and a trench-coat standing at the edge of the room, holding a snow-globe in his hand. He placed it back on the counter. Claws protruded from his fingers. His combat boots squeaked as he turned around. “How many people have you shot, Sam?”

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” Trent asked.

The intruder placed his hands in his pockets. Suddenly, a thick cloud of smoke came billowing from beneath him. He disappeared and rematerialized behind Trent. The intruder grabbed him by the throat and put him up against the wall. Sam’s glasses fell off his face, but he still got the image of razor sharp teeth and white, glowing eyes facing him. “I think you know exactly what I’m doing here, officer.” The intruder slit Trent’s throat with his claw. Sam gagged as he was lifted into the air. Blood splattered down into the intruder’s maw. Once the cop was drained, the man in the trench coat threw him onto the ground and left the same way he came in, as smoke through the window.