=== Chuck ===

Someone had left a voicemail on my office line late at night requesting an appointment. That wasn't so unusual. He said he had been referred by a doctor. Which was also not weird. What was strange was that he sounded exactly like Curtis Reese. The Esvanir. But that wasn't possible. There's no way that Reese would be that stupid. But the name he had left had to be fake. Bob Demoise? No one would ever go by such a silly name. Usually, I wouldn't be the one to make the call, but I was curious. I called him back, and he answered blearily.

"Hello?" It still sounded like Reese.

"Hello, is this Bob Demoise? This is Doctor Berry."

"Oh, right." His voice cleared up a little bit. "Can you fit me in, doc?"

"Yes. There was an opening in my schedule for this week. Are you available?" He was. Most of the week up until then was exactly the same as every other week. Tedious. Except for the few times I went out with Kari. Some on patrol and some on dates. Kari was apprehensive about it but also seemed to enjoy herself. And I was content. We had dinner as Smash Gal and Professor Mind. I would have preferred to be Kari and Chuck, but with her identity and celebrity status, it just wasn't feasible. One of our dinners had been interrupted by a bank robbery, which almost resulted in us dining and dashing. We had managed to resolve that, fortunately.

When it finally came in for 'Bob's' appointment, I was not surprised to see Curtis Reese sitting in my waiting room. His leg was shaking, and he looked exhausted. His quaffed hair was a little shabbier than usual. A spike of apprehension spread out through my chest when he looked up at me. Especially when his eyes narrowed. He pursed his lips and stood up and held out his hand. "Doctor."

"Mister . . . Demoise." I took his hand and shook it. Fear, anxiety, anger, fatigue, and paranoia all hummed through him constantly. There was also pain. A lot of pain. I can sense some level of both physical pain and emotional pain. Physical pain is just a faint phantom sense that echoes in the area where the other person is experiencing it. I can block it out. Emotional pain varies. People feel emotions differently, and it affects the way their bodies react to them. Even without opening myself to his feelings, this man was overwhelming. His body was strained; his muscles were all tight, especially around the jaw and neck; his stomach was roiling from not eating. He held his anxiety in his shoulders and chest. I took a deep breath, closing him out slowly. I'd still be able to read the emotions, but I'd never be able to focus with the constant waves coming off him. I led him back into the room and closed the door. He didn't sit. Instead, he looked around and examined everything. I made my way over to my chair. I didn't sit until he did. "Is everything okay, Mister Re- . . . Bob? Do you prefer Bob or Robert?"

He didn't answer immediately. He just continued to look around. "Mister Demoise?"

"Oh, uh. It doesn't matter. Don't stress about that." He looked at the overstuffed couch I had in the room as he sat down. I sat down across from him and watched him.

"So, what brings you in today?"

"I . . . I've been informed that I am not handling my stress in a reasonable way. It was suggested I reach out to someone, and you were recommended by a fri- . . . By my primary care physician." I smiled at him. Doctor Desai, no doubt.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"They have a point. I just don't know that there's anything to be done. I'm pretty stressed out but in my line of work . . . I'm in IT, so I get a lot of demanding people constantly wanting me to do impossible things all the time," he added defensively. Even if I hadn't known who he was, I would have picked up on that lie.

"Is there anything else that you're stressed about, or is it just work?" His leg was shaking again. He kept glancing around the room. "You could always get another job. You seem like a smart, capable person. I'm sure you could do some good in the world."

"It's not really an option," he said. I could see him trying to find a way to justify his lie. “I . . . Uh . . . What I do in IT . . . It helps people. I'm pretty good at it. Second best I've ever met. And if I just stopped, a lot of things would . . ."

He stopped, staring at my face for a moment. He didn't make much eye contact, but I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable when he did. The way he focused on things. Between that and his sharp, angular features and the possibility that he finally realized who I was, I couldn't help it. I pushed myself back into the chair. I could feel suspicion coming off of him in waves. He sighed and took a breath, and looked down. Paranoia, I thought, possibly narcissistic personality disorder. Anger problems. Trust issues. I sat there puzzling out the things I had seen in this man, both on the news and from our previous interactions. Should I even be doing this? I know him. I know who he is. But if I say that I can't help him, where could he go? He's obviously struggling. And he obviously needs therapy. But we won't get anywhere if we have to talk behind this false persona. Navigating that is too hard. Then again, if I push too hard, he'll bolt. He chose teleportation as a power for a reason. Running away for a reason.

"Mister . . . Demoise. Can we please speak frankly for a moment?"

"W-what do you mean? I thought we were already."

"We're not. We haven't been for the first . . . twenty minutes of the session," I responded, glancing at my watch. "I think I can help you. But the issue is that you're lying to me. And I get it . . . Mister Reese. You're an international criminal. Esvanir."

He jumped up and held out his hand, the hand that Kari had broke. It was in better condition than it should have been, so quickly. His device wrapped around his hand. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing heavily. "Mister Reese . . . I'm not going to turn you in. Please. Hear me out. Sit down."

He did so, but he didn't put his device away. I eyed it. Until he said something. "You seem pretty calm. Do you often work with terrorists on most-wanted lists?"

"No." I took a deep breath. "No, I do not. But I also don't believe you're a terrorist, Mister Reese. And this is a special circumstance. I want to help you."

"I'm not going to stop. You have to know that, right?" He asked, rage coloring his voice.

"I understand that, Reese. You believe what you're doing is not only right but of the utmost importance." He soured at my wording, and I shook my head. "I didn't say I disagreed. Some of my favorite people in the world do things that are . . . illegal but important."

"So, you're a fan of capes," he accused.

"Capes?" I asked.

"C'mon. You're obviously smarter than that. You . . ." He squinted at me again, trying to piece something together.

"This is going to come up eventually. You'll figure it out," I sighed. "Please do not run. Hear me out."

I transformed. I shifted from my dress shirt and slacks to my superhero costume. Reese didn't look surprised. But he did look angry. He started glancing around the room, waiting for something. "Well, where is she?"

"She?"

"Don't play fucking stupid!" He shouted. I closed my eyes and blocked out his rage; I had prepared myself for this. I had been mentally training in case we got into another fight, and the training paid off.

"Kari isn't coming, Reese."

"Do you honestly think you can take me without her?" He asked, raising his hand.

"I don't want to, Mister Reese. I am not here to capture you. I wasn't even sure it was you until you showed up in my office. But I do think that I'm one of the few people who can help you."

"And why would you do that? After everything you've done to me, how could I trust you?" He asked, deflating. His rage was still there. His anger. His pain. But they were all overwhelmed by exhaustion.

"How long have you been on the run?"

"I don't know. Six months? Whenever Kari streamed that time I broke my hands on her ridiculously hard head." I laughed; I couldn't help it. He glared at me.

"I'm sorry, Ree-"

"Drei," he corrected.

"Drei?" I asked.

"I took Cindi's last name."

"Oh. That's unusual. Why do you think you did that?"

"Because she wanted me to. So I wanted to. 'A rose by any other name', and all that. She has her brand to worry about."

"Technically, so do you." This time he laughed bitterly. "That's funny?"

"I never wanted to be a brand. I was content to be in the shadows. Kari ruined that. Now I'm stuck being a cultural touchstone of sorts. And it's getting people killed." I thought about it. He never really seemed to desire the spotlight. That makes narcissism less likely.

"I assume you're talking about the Acolytes. That terrorist group working in your name. You don't have any affiliation?"

"No! I don't operate like that. C'mon, Mind. You should know better than that. I kill people in self-defense. I don't blow up buildings. I've never needed to." I left the fact that he had almost killed Smash Gal, Bion, and I unsaid. He probably did consider that self-defense. I suppose it is; I remembered what he said back on the Grignau planet. I don't like killing people. She tried to kill Cindi. If it were just me, I wouldn't care, but she hurt the woman I love. Then I remembered that his parents had been interviewed. Kari had talked about it. She said that they hadn't treated Curt at all like what the interview said. I put all of the pieces together. His childhood was difficult; his parents were verbally and physically abusive, according to Kari. Given his overall paranoia, that seems pretty likely. He grew up poor and miserable. He raged against people in power who weren't doing what he felt they should. Unable to stomach it and unwilling to let someone else do it, he took it upon himself. He figured out how to do it. It's not arrogance or narcissism; It's trauma. He doesn't trust anyone else to do what he does. Probably not even Buck Cherry. Not entirely, anyway.

I looked at him. He hadn't moved. But he was still primed to disappear at the first sign of trouble. I had to do something to earn his trust. His friends were right. If he wasn't careful, he might end up like those Acolytes. He had been on the run, constantly fighting and struggling for months. And I hadn't helped with that at all; I had made it worse. Gods, help me.

=== Cindi ===

With Curt out and about, I had some free time to repay the favor I owed to Tierra. She was still in town playing with Des. And that should be payment enough for both of them, I thought. But I am a woman of my word. Sometimes. I contacted her. She answered the phone tiredly, "Yello."

"Tierra, darling. How is Des?"

"At work," Tierra answered. "They don't want to just live off of my kindness. Can you believe that?"

"I can. Between them and Curt, I think we might have fallen in with a bad crowd. People who believe in things and want to make the world a better place."

"God, don't remind me. They're cute, though," Tierra said fondly. "Curt, too, I guess."

"You don't care for him, do you?"

"He's just . . . really intense. His emotions are always so . . . raw."

"Hmm. That's strange, considering how he processes everything so carefully. Tries to reason through everything."

"Probably an overcorrection. Anyway, enough about your husband. Can't believe you let someone pin you down. Jeez."

"I do the pinning most nights. And if I am pinned, it's not usually his decision," I said, grinning.

"Enough, breeder. What's up?"

"Thought we could get your painting back. Was wondering if you wanted to see how the world's greatest thief does her thing."

"World's greatest thief? Cherry, sugah, surely you don't mean you. I've never been caught. Especially not by some vanilla." Her tone was filled with disgust. I saw what Curt meant. Metas like me and Tierra underestimate people like him. And yet he is constantly around proving us wrong. Though, he's hardly your average person.

"Well, it just so happens that we are going to see said vanilla."

"You gave my painting to . . ."

"Are you in, or are you out?" I asked, examining my nails. Truthfully, it would be better to have her on the job. I needed backup. If for no other reason than I needed someone to stop me from doing something stupid. Curt levels of stupid.

"Of course, I'm in. How else will you learn the truth?"

"The truth?"

"That I'm better than you and your husband combined." I could hear the grin over the phone. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"Of course. Be ready in ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, I appeared in the hotel room she was keeping in Avalare. She was wearing her outfit; it was black on black on black. But she did make it look good. We disappeared and reappeared several time zones away. In Europe. Curt had kept track of where he had been staying. Mainly to avoid him. After all, the only person that pissed Curt off more than Smash Gal was this man. I could see the mountainous silhouette through the window and gritted my teeth. The only one who hated him more than Curt did was me. I almost teleported directly to that room and killed him then and there. Tierra put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, Cher?"

"Yeah," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Bad memories is all. Let's go."

We walked over to the gate. There were guards in a little station just inside the walls. This was an older building, and they had retrofitted many of the man's more absurd security measures. In some cases, it was a matter of choosing between aesthetics and security. Surprisingly, he opted for aesthetics in several instances. To cover for that, he had hired more guards. Which was where Tierra came in. Several men were cycling through their watches. She stretched out her arms and released a wave of calming energy. I didn't know how else to explain it. It wasn't enough to knock anyone out. Just kind of kept them from being really enthusiastic about reacting. I noticed some of the effect on me. I pushed it away. You could do that if you were ready for it. They hadn't been.

I teleported us onto the villa's grounds. The doors didn't have any glass, so I couldn't just teleport sight unseen inside. I could've maybe estimated it, but Curt said that was dangerous, so I refused. I took out my thieves' tools. It had actually been one of the wedding gifts he had bought me, with real money. He's so cute. Tierra asked, "Can't you just phase through?"

"Maybe, but more and more people are using those electric currents in their security designs. And this man knows that's one of my weaknesses."

"Is he expecting you?"

"He probably is." I picked the lock. Curt had made me practice a lot. And it was a good idea. This one was very complicated. As I opened the door, I did start to phase through it, just to see if I could have. I felt the familiar, disconcerting buzz of electricity running through it. I frowned and stepped in. The bottom floor was a mishmash of different cultures thrown together haphazardly, with no concern for history or even basic design sense. This isn't art. It's a display of control, I thought, frowning. Opulence. We wandered through several rooms, all of which were overstuffed with exhibits. Some from each culture. The statue of Baast was prominently displayed. I froze, staring at it. How had he gotten it out of the country? I wanted it. But first things first. I had to get Tierra's painting. It was in the same room. A vast, heavy display of a Don Quixote charging at windmills off in the distance. I never liked the painting. But Tierra wanted it. I examined the frame and the wall around it. The wall was actually built around the piece, which would make removing it a pain in the ass. I put my hand on the wall and started to phase through, only to feel the same electric buzz. "Damn it! Even on the display walls!"

"You stumped already?" Tierra asked.

"No. Absolutely not," I said, thinking through the problem. I should have planned more before coming. I grabbed the bag from Tierra's shoulder and took out a drill and one of Curt's batteries. I knocked on the wall, looking for a stud. There was one going entirely around the painting. I found one of the wires that caused the current to run through the wall and attached the battery. I activated it, and the lights dimmed for a moment. Then sirens started ringing, and the doors slammed and locked. "Fuck!"

==== Kari ===

I was in Ren's dojo. I stretched out the fingers on my left arm; it hurt a lot. There were marks that had laced around it from the trap Lady Blade had sprung on me. I was furious with myself. After we had gotten back, Suiren had gone immediately to bed. I saw her grandmother follow her, but neither would speak to me. I really pissed Suiren off. I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. I must've fallen asleep at some point because the sun was up when I opened my eyes. I yawned and stretched. It was one of the things that living here for a short time had instilled in me. I needed to stay limber.

I walked out into the courtyard, and several people nodded to me deferentially. I smiled at them. Suiren's grandmother stepped up to me. "Good morning, my pupil."

"Hey. How's Ren?"

"She's pretty mad at you. She thinks you let Lady Blade get away again." I stared despondently at my feet, trying to think of a response. She's kind of right, I thought. The old woman patted my arm and then started forward. "Let's get some breakfast, dear."

I followed her. We went to the kitchen, where several people chopped various vegetables and meats. They owned a local garden and farm not too far away, and their food was brought from there. The old woman pulled a cutting board out and placed it in front of me and then one for herself. She grabbed some of the vegetables and put a knife in front of each of us. I picked it up. "Why are we doing this?"

"You seem to have a lot on your mind, Kari," she said simply as she started to cut some leeks. "Sometimes doing something simple can help you focus."

We chopped through a lot of vegetables. I had to carefully regulate my speed and strength, so I didn't break the knife. My mind did start to wander not too long after. I considered the fight, frowning. I'm still not fighting as good as I can! I chided myself. I forced myself to loosen my grip on the knife before I crushed it, taking a deep breath. But the forcefields are pretty effective against her. If I could get better at those . . . I let the thought drift, considering what I could do. Chuck had a pitching machine fire baseballs at him until he got good at catching them. But I think I need something a little stronger than that.

I stared down at the onion I had been chopping. I had minced it. I loaded it off into a bowl and took another one, reaching for the knife again. I froze, thinking. Maybe . . . I concentrated and created a small forcefield in the rough shape of the blade. I sliced down. A dent appeared on the onion, but it didn't cut through. I pressed down harder, and the onion exploded, sending bits everywhere. People looked around at the mess I had made. Suiren's grandmother smiled at me. "What were you trying to do?"

"I was trying to see if the forcefields I create sometimes can be used like a knife."

"Didn't work," she remarked, pulling a piece of onion out of her hair.

"Guess not."

"Why do you think that is?" She asked, returning to her chopping.

"I think it was too dull. I've never had to create such a thin forcefield before."

"Hmm. Do you think doing that would be useful?" The older woman asked. I shrugged.

"Forcefields are what allowed me to get Ren out of there. To escape Lady Blade's weird trap.

"Trap?"

"Ren didn't tell you?" I asked. She shook her head, watching me. "Well, she started slashing at me like a mad-woman. I thought she was just desperate to catch up with me now that I can actually dodge. But I went to hit her and this weird flame cage wrapped around my arm, and I was stuck there. Until I pushed a forcefield in between my arm and the fire. Then when I pulled it out, it exploded."

"That's. . . Do you think you could remember how she slashed her sword?"

"Uh . . . Maybe?" I asked, unsure of it.

"Show me." We went out to the courtyard, and she tossed me a kendo sword. I caught it effortlessly. I closed my eyes and tried to emulate Lady Blade's stance. It felt weird, and I adjusted it several times, trying to emulate the ease she moved with. It was amazing that she could do this in a full armor set. I frowned, stepped through the first few slashes, then paused, shook my head, and started over again. I did this several times. It took me the better part of an hour to do it. But when I did it, my teacher's teacher was staring at me, concern etched on her face. "Are you sure that's what she did?"

"Pretty sure." She twisted her cane and unsheathed the sword inside of it. She gripped it in both hands and recreated the motions I had made. Or that I thought I had made. Looking at how she did it, I knew I had made a couple of missteps. I tried not to chide myself for that. It didn't work.

"Was it like that?" She asked, her tone solemn.

"Yeah. Sorry. I . . . I'm no swordswoman. You got it in one." She nodded absently, clearly only half-listening. "What's going on?"

"That . . . The sword has several abilities. A lot of which are very risky. If she had done that to Suiren . . ." Her voice trailed off, and I thought I could see a tear trail down her cheek. I stepped forward and hugged her; She hugged me back; We broke apart.

"I don't know that she would've done that to Suiren," I said. "I was dodging her, and I think she was just trying to trap me."

"Maybe," the woman said noncommittally. "But using that in a city . . . Using it at all. She could've gotten herself killed. She really is . . . lost."

The way she said that broke my heart. I felt some kinship with her. I sat down in front of her. "I know how bad it feels to have someone you care for go down a bad path."

She looked at me, then nodded. She also sat down across from me. "She was a good girl, once. She wasn't always . . . Like this."

=== Curt ===

I sat across from Doctor Chuck Berry, Professor Mind. I had thought I had recognized him when I had looked him up, but I hadn't quite put two and two together until he summoned his suit. I had only seen his face in the dark on another planet for a moment when I was slightly distracted by a million other things. When he did change, I set up several snap points all over the hemisphere. The instant he made his move, I would be gone. Alternatively, I could just kill him. It wouldn't be hard. But he hadn't attacked. He had known who I was since I had gotten into the office. He'd implied that he suspected it was me since he had heard my message. And he had just asked me a question. And I had missed it. "What did you say?"

"It doesn't matter. What are you thinking about?"

"I was . . ." I tried to think of a plausible lie. Could you even lie to him? He's a fucking mind-reader. I froze, my thoughts shifting quickly. He could be reading my mind right now and influencing my emotions right now. Why haven't I run? He could be doing what he did to Scott Springs or Blanca White. I was spiraling. I took a few deep breaths and tried to regain my composure. "I was thinking about how to . . . defend myself against you if I needed to. I'm worried about what you did to Cannon Punch and Knight Light and trying to think of ways to resist it."

"That's. . . a reasonable concern. I guess I haven't given you much reason to trust me," Professor Mind responded calmly. I examined his body language. He was tapping his pen against a pad; a frown creased his face; his legs were crossed. Closed off. Is he hiding something? I thought. Then dismissed it. Curt, you've met shrinks before. He's being professional. Keeping his distance. The first voice countered, You still can't trust him; he's a hero; he's Smash Gal's boyfriend. The thought echoed through my head. He's a threat.

"I think this is where we end it. I'm out of here."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Professor Mind replied. There was no affectation on his tone. He was utterly dispassionate. Is he gearing up for an attack? Will he try to stop me? My thoughts paused for another heartbeat or two. Can he stop me? I don't think he can. But he's never really fought me all out before.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to modulate my tone.

"I think I can help you, Curt."

"I already told you, I'm not stopping what I'm doing."

"I . . . I don't mean the thefts. Your . . . morality would never allow that. You are a hero . . . in your own way," he began. I rolled my hand, motioning for him to continue. "Do you know what my powers are?"

"Mind reading, emotional manipulation, mental faculty manipulation, mental construct creation," I read it off the mental list I kept of every hero I'd ever encountered or predicted I would face. He sighed and was silent for a long moment, then looked up at me, meeting my eyes.

"That's a pretty good list, but it's not all of it." Before he could continue, I broke in.

"Is that supposed to be comforting? That there's more I don't know about you when you're already a huge liability?"

"Perhaps not, but it is a chance for you to learn a potential weakness or at least collect more data on me to better counter me. And you want to do that anyway." I thought about it for a moment, eyeing him. I could still escape. The menus I could access with a swift eye movement were just in my periphery. If he made any move, I could run. "I can sense emotions. I can sense them off of you. It's why I got overwhelmed when we . . . tangled at your wedding. So many high emotions can be overwhelming. Like a flashbang, but constantly."

"I don't see how this is relevant."

"I have been able to sense your emotions since we met." I froze, thinking through the implications of this. Right now, I was afraid and angry, I was probably other things, but I couldn't distinguish them. I was in pain, and I was tired. It was most of the reason that I had relented to Des' insane demand. I can't wait to hold this over their head. This is fucking hilarious. Dangerous, but hilario . . . I thought about it for a moment, leaning back. Do I have the right to reveal his secret? Should I do what Kari did to me? Hell, even she didn't mean to do it. It was more my and Marcelli's fault than hers. The shrink's words cut through my thoughts, "What are you thinking?"

"I was going to use this to make fun of my friend, but then I started questioning the ethics of revealing your identity."

"And that's something you care about?"

"You've chosen a private life. Though, the longer you're around Smash Gal," I couldn't keep the vitriol out of my voice. He frowned at it. "The more likely it'll come out without my help."

"Do you hate Kari?"

"Yes," I said immediately.

"Would you like to unpack that?"

"You know why I hate her," I said bitterly.

"I know my side of it. I know what I've seen. What she's said. What you've said to her. And one conversation we had. But this is your chance to convince me."

"I won't be able to convince you. And that's a cheap trick."

"You probably won't. You're right about that," he said, holding up a placating hand. "But wouldn't you like to say your piece? This is a judgment-free zone."

"No such thing," I scoffed.

"I guess that's fair. I can't truly withhold judgment fully. But I'll hear you out and be as fair as I can be."

"She's destroyed my life. At this point, she's doing it on purpose. It's obvious to anyone who isn't trapped in the Kari-Whirlwind."

"Kari whirlwind?" He asked.

"She's funny and personable and confident. That makes people blind to all of the bullshit they let her get away with."

"Like what?"

"Ugh!" I exclaimed, deflating. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me," the doctor said. "Explain it to me."

"She doesn't take responsibility for her actions! She blows in and stops a few petty crimes but blasts off, leaving whatever destruction she couldn't prevent or, often enough, caused in her wake behind."

"She's trying to get better about that."

"Oh? Small comfort. She made a conscious decision to work with Bion to ruin my wedding. You should know that. You were there!" I shot back angrily. Professor Mind winced.

"I . . . I don't know what to say to that, Curt."

"That's because it's indefensible," I muttered bitterly.

"Do you really think she's intentionally hurting you?"

"Yes. I do. What other explanation is there?" Chuck didn't respond. He looked like he was trying to come up with something to say. "The options are either that she's so fucking stupid that she doesn't realize that her actions have consequences. And considering she's never had to deal with any consequences, I guess that's possible, or she's doing it on purpose. Those are the only two possibilities I can see."

"So, you think she's purposefully escalated against you?" The doctor asked.

"Again, I feel that's pretty fucking self-evident," I shot back.

"But at the same time, you've also escalated against her. I was there at your first fight. You dodged and evaded everything. And in your last few encounters, you've tried to kill her."

"What choice do I have?" I asked, deflating. He shifted in the seat and sat staring at me silently for a moment or two.

"What do you mean by that, Mister Reese?"

"You can't run from someone who won't stop. You can't run from someone willing to chase you across the planet, threatening you constantly," I muttered. I was barely able to keep myself upright. I felt so tired. "You can't understand what it's like."

"Try me," he responded blandly.

"She's. . . Kari has always been a force of nature. She has always gotten her way. Even when we were kids, she could do anything she wanted. And now it's worse. She's fucking scary. She scares me so fucking much. She can lift, what? Fifty tonnes? More? Fly faster than most military jets. And I'm in her crosshairs."

"Do you think she would kill you?"

"I don't think she'd mean to."

"But you do think she would."

"She almost killed Cindi twice." The anger crawled back into my voice. I clenched my fists, and they were shaking. I watched Doctor Berry shift again. "I'm sorry. I will try and keep a cap on my emotions."

"How often do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked thickly.

"Try to suppress what you're feeling?"

"All the time. I have to."

"Why?"

"You can't trust emotions. They are there. They're necessary, I guess. But they don't make good decisions."

"Do you think you've made good decisions recently?" He asked, noting something on his pad.

"I . . . Some of them aren't too bad. Marrying Cindi," I said fondly.

"And fighting Smash Gal?"

"Has to be done."

"You could continue to run," he suggested.

"I have work to do. She's put herself in the way of that."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I . . . I have to find a way to stop her."

"And how are you going to do that? Are you going to talk to her?" I laughed; I couldn't help but throw back my head and laugh.

"Talk to her? Have you ever tried to reason with a brick wall?" I wiped the tears from my eyes. "No, I'm not going to talk to her. There's only one thing she understands. Power. Strength. I will show her that I'm not so easy to push around anymore."