=== Kari ===

After leaving Ren’s dojo, I flew around the city. I opened up my senses and watched people break minor laws. Jaywalking, speeding, turning right on red. I watched people get into accidents, heard people fight and scuffle. Avalare was big. Bigger than me. I couldn’t be everywhere at once. Ren’s grandma wouldn’t give me the name of Lady Blade. I wanted to stop her. I have to. To keep Ren safe. The thought echoed through my head. But I don’t know if I can beat her. She’s a better fighter than I am. I landed on a building somewhere and stared out at the cityscape in front of me. The pain in my arm had faded, and the lines were gone too. I thought about it for a moment. Even the scars Curt caused when he tried to saw off my arms and legs were mostly gone. Benefits of Grignau DNA, I guess.

A call brought me back to reality; I glanced at my phone. It was Harold. I answered. “Hey, Thundy, how’re you?”

“Doing better than you. Heard you got your ass kicked by that crazy fire sword lady.” I grimaced and consciously did not clench my fist. I needed to work on my anger issues. “I’m doing an event at a hospital in a bit. Was wondering if you wanted to come along. I’m sure the kids would love to meet the Smash Gal.”

“Kids?” I asked.

“Yeah, just raising their spirits or whatever. I’ve done it before. It’s a blast.”

“Okay, yeah. That does sound fun,” I responded. Harold gave me the details, and I was in my full super suit a few hours later. Red cape, pink shirt, pink skirt, red boots, mauve stockings. There was a lot of press at the hospital. They were taking pictures of Harold. His suit was tight on his body and gave the impression of a lot of muscle. It was primarily purple with red accents. It was almost like a skintight tracksuit. He didn’t have a mask and wore a huge smile as he took questions from the reporters. He met my eye and motioned me over.

“I’m sure you all recognize my girl Smash Gal,” he said, grinning at me as I pushed my way through the reporters and stood next to him. It was still kind of weird to think of myself as a celebrity. The people surged forward with questions for me, and Harold and I tried to keep track of them, but Harold was much more adept at it. He was a natural interviewee. After a few moments, we broke off and went into the hospital.

A camera crew followed us in and filmed us as we interacted with the children. We went to a wing with twelve kids, all somewhere between seven and fifteen years old. All of them looked sickly and gaunt. A few had no hair and were obviously going through chemotherapy. But they were all excited to see us. A few even yelled “Harry!” when Thunderblast entered the room. His media smile was gone, and something far more genuine had stretched his lips wide. He fist-bumped one of the kids as he walked past, gave one a high five, and then stood in the middle of the room. I joined him. A few kids did whisper “Smash Gal” as I came in. I smiled at them. I felt stiff and uncomfortable.

A few kids came up and talked to me and showed me little projects they were working on. They had done a lot of drawings; There were even some pictures of me in there. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I spent my time carefully lifting some of them up. The doctors and nurses panicked some, but the kids had a blast. Some of the older ones were less excited to see us there. The fifteen-year-old boy looked especially disapproving. I tried to get him to come out of his self-imposed isolation, but he just returned to his book. Curled up and separate from everyone, he reminded me of Curt. I sighed. Even the thought of him raised my hackles. After an hour or so, Thunderblast and I ended the session. A lot of the kids were tired out from the excitement. When we were walking out, Harold asked, “Do you want to grab a bite? Catch up? It’s been a minute since we kicked it.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, then grinned at him. “Do you want me to carry you over there?”

“I’m good,” he said, matching my grin. He bought a car with some of the money from the tie-in deals that Jenny had arranged. It was a pretty big SUV, but he had kept it a classic black color. It had been adjusted in other ways. The stereo system was replaced, and the windows were tinted, which was technically illegal, but I didn’t say anything. There were so many more significant issues than tinted windows to deal with. He had also added his logo on the doors and the hood. I sat uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat, impatient to be there. Not because I didn’t enjoy his company. I just am not used to moving so slowly anymore. We got over to a lovely Indian restaurant, and we sat down. “So, Smashy, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know, been busy.”

“Yeah, taking on Bion and that dick Esvanir.”

“Oh yeah, you fought him.”

“I caught him. The cops let him escape. Honestly, surprised they didn’t take him to get a cheeseburger before they booked him.”

“You think they let him go on purpose?”

“I knocked his tech out. How else could he have escaped?”

“Buck Cherry. He gave her some tech like his,” I said simply. “You really think the cops would just let him go? He’s dangerous. Especially after attacking that same precinct before, when he helped Marcelli escape.”

“I’m just saying. Lots of my folk don’t get off that easy.” I frowned at that thought and pursed my lips.

“Can I ask you something then?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

“If you think that the cops are that . . . corrupt, that . . . racist, why do you do it?” He frowned at me from across the table. He studied me, thinking through his answer carefully. The waitress came by and put our food down; I grabbed a fork and dug in.

“I . . .” He hesitated. I motioned for him to continue. “You sure you want to have this conversation, Smashy? Might be a little heavy.”

“All the more reason to have it. I don’t want to hide from tough subjects. And . . . I think that’s part of the problem. People aren’t willing to have those tough conversations anymore.” Skepticism played across his features, then he shook his head.

“Alright. We’ll try it,” Thunderblast began. “The day we met . . . That could’ve been it, you know? I . . . I was so scared. Captured by some fucking bank robbers on one end, and on the other, guns pointing at me by a bunch of cops, ready to end me then and there. And you’re there, bulletproof, faster than any of them, and you hesitate. You don’t want to hurt cops. You know I’m innocent, and you realized what could’ve happened. I saw it on your face. And you got me out of that; you saved me twice that day. But you hesitated. Then those Grignau attacked. You weren’t there to help me. You were off fighting your own battles uptown. No one was coming down to save us.”

“I wou-” I started, but he cut me off, swiping his hand through the air.

“Kari, I know you would have if you had done it. But you can’t be everywhere. And we weren’t the priority down there. And more importantly, I don’t need you to. I have the power. I like you, girl; I do. But I don’t need Super Karen bursting through the ceiling to save me. You inspired me to be a hero, but it’s twofold, right? You showed me that people can use their power to try and make the world a better place, but you also reminded me that there’s some hesitation there from white folk. But I don’t have that same hesitation. I see injustice, I'll do something about it if I think I can. I can’t always rely on you to be there for me and mine. But I can be. I can challenge this system. Both as a black man and as a meta. Be there for people who need it. Protect them from those that mean us, all of us, harm. If I’m involved, at least I can trust myself to do what is right, even if I can’t trust the cops. Or you.”

I sat there for a while, silent, considering his words. He took a few bites of his Pad Thai in the meantime, then met my eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. I looked away and sighed. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He asked.

“For . . . Hesitating. I . . . I can’t justify that.”

“Yeah, well,” he stirred the food on his plate for a moment. “Do better next time. That’s all we can do, right?”

“Yeah,” I muttered softly.

=== Cindi ===

The sound of guards collecting outside almost drowned out the sirens, which were shut down after a moment. Louder footsteps echoed out over the stairs and stopped on the other side of the door. I couldn’t hear what was going on. I looked back at the painting. I had already tripped the alarm. Tierra just sat there, looking between the door and me. I took the bag and looked into it; there was a box cutter. I considered it for a moment. We could just cut the painting, edging around the frame . . . I hesitated. But then we have to stretch the canvas, and it’d damage the canvas. Damn it! The door started to open. “Tierra, darling. Do your thing.”

She nodded and held out her hands, then stumbled. I looked back; she had fallen on her ass and looked horrified. A man stepped inside. He was huge and had tanned some since the last time I had seen him. He grinned at me, which made me feel slimy. “Misses Drei. How nice it is to see you again. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Oh, Marcelli. I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d pop in on an old friend,” I said, stepping between myself and Tierra. What am I doing? I thought. Risking myself to make sure Tierra lives? Why? But I knew why. Curt had gotten to me. Marcelli stepped forward, popping his neck. I stretched out my limbs, ready to rush forward at a moment’s notice.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, looking around the room. His eyes trailed over Tierra lasciviously. I shuddered. “Where is your dumber half? Or have you traded up in the world?”

“Curt’s not here. He’s off dealing with more important matters.”

“Ah. I can’t say I’m disappointed,” Marcelli said, shrugging his massive shoulders. “But at least now, I can punish one of you for what you did to me.”

He charged forward; Tierra rolled out of the way; I phased through my clothes and dived forward. I was aiming to go through him and catch him by the neck, but I slammed into something and was thrown back into the wall. Through it, actually, where I felt the buzz of electricity try to grasp me. I became solid again. Drywall shattered around me, and I fell to the floor, coughing. Marcelli smirked down at me. I pulled myself to my feet and shook my vision clear. That hurt.

Marcelli tapped his belt. “Do you like it, Misses Drei? It rebounds most forms of strange or dangerous matters and energies back at whatever is doing the throwing. I imagine that’s why your friend here was on her back when I walked into the room. Or perhaps, she was just preparing herself for what is to come. She is a pretty one.”

I almost gagged. Fuck! What am I going to do? I need to get us out of here . . . I can’t . . . I won’t let him touch me again. I won’t let him touch Tierra! I clenched my fists, taking in the room. There were hundreds of pieces of art. Marcelli is a collector, but he’d probably be willing to sacrifice a few if it meant capturing us, I thought. My bag had the glasses and system Curt had given to me. I had been practicing keeping it on even when phasing, but it was far from perfect. Truthfully, the only times I managed to do it was when I remembered that they were a gift from him. The idiot, I muttered internally. Then I had another thought. Marcelli had been closing in slowly. He had been saying something, but I didn’t really care. Nothing he said could matter. All that mattered was getting out. He lunged for me. I dodged out of the way and rolled. I came up on my feet and dashed, then slid over to my bag. I grabbed it and thrust my hand into it. Marcelli was hot on my trail. I grabbed the two cases that mattered and discarded the bag roughly. He slammed his fist into my back, and I stumbled and bashed my head against one of the cases. My head swam in the pain. But I had what I needed.

I threw myself to the side as he slammed another fist down. It missed and shattered one of the displays. I slid my hand into the bracelet, and it clipped into place. One band around my wrist, one around my palm, and two capping off my middle finger and thumb. I put the glasses on, and the AR display started focusing on several things throughout the room. Tierra, Marcelli, and some of the faces on paintings and statues. The man closed in again, and I dashed back and started mentally selecting things. The glasses would mark them with a blue outline matching Curt’s portals' edges. I dodged under another blow from the man and held up a hand. “Marcelli! Stop now!”

He laughed as he loomed over me, raising a fist. “And why would I do that? I’ve wanted to kill you for months. Now’s finally my chance.”

“Because if you do that, you’ll never get your collection back.”

“What idiocy are you going on about now?”

“This,” I responded, smiling at the man as I snapped my finger, mimicking my man. A hundred or so portals opened up at the same time. They were all different sizes. There was a loud clatter as hundreds of pieces of art fell into them. Marcelli whirled around, cursing.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I just robbed you, Marcelli. The biggest robbery in the world,” I muttered. There were entire chunks of the walls missing where the paintings had been. He lunged at me again, and I disappeared and reappeared behind him. I didn’t quite judge the distance correctly and bounced off his barrier. I slammed to the ground and looked up as he whirled on me. I took in Tierra, marking her. I then snapped my finger, but nothing happened. An error message came up.

Energy Low!

Countdown:30 Seconds

Countdown:29 Seconds

Countdown:

28 Seconds

"Fuck!" I yelled. I had maxed out the energy usage on the teleport system. And now I had to stall this madman for half a minute. He slammed a foot down, and I rolled out of the way and jumped up on my feet. I went to kick him, but he caught my leg and squeezed hard. I grimaced and started to zap him. The energy pulsed and then came flooding back into me, causing me to convulse violently. He slammed me to the ground and then threw me across the room. I rolled and slammed into a display. Miraculously, my glasses had stayed on. Only four seconds had gone by. I looked up blearily. Marcelli was charging forward. I started to sink through the ground, but I could feel the buzz of electricity running through the floor. I grimaced. But another thought came to me. I dipped my hand through the floor and gripped one of the live wires, my arms shaking violently. I pulled on it, and just as he got into range, I dodged his slam and pressed the wire against him.

His barrier glowed for a moment, then the house was plunged into darkness. I could only see his vague shape above me, but I took a guess and slammed a kick up. It landed exactly where I wanted it to. He groaned and collapsed to his knees. He reached out to grab me, but I danced out of the way. I called out to Tierra, "Ti, you still there?"

"I'm here," she responded, sounding scared. I made my way to her. There were still fifteen seconds or so left on the timer. I groaned as I heard Marcelli get up to his feet. I grabbed her hand and snuck over to my bag, gathering my clothes. The lights flickered back on, and I saw Marcelli looking directly at us with rage and hatred in his eyes. I pushed the bag into Tierra, grabbed her hand, and snapped.

=== Chuck ===

My session with Reese . . . Drei, I mentally corrected myself, ended on as positive a note as I think it could have. I suggested that he take a little vacation. Get away somewhere and do something that wasn't thieving and wasn't just surviving. He needed it. He said he'd consider it. When I asked him if he'd see me again, he also said he'd think about it. I hope he does; I think he could really use it; He and Kari are so similar in some ways. Both were entirely devoted to doing what they thought was right. Completely unwilling to see things in any other way. The most significant difference is that Curt was taking all of this personally. I thought about it for a moment. Were they different in that way? Kari had always been fighting him, even before she knew what he was, with no control, no respect. She almost killed him countless times. Curt had escalated the situation, but that was only after she had gone way farther than she ever should have. He's a criminal, sure. I guess at his worst, he's a murderer, but more often than not, he's just a thief. And she was using deadly force from the start. I frowned and considered what I wanted to do. He's planning on killing her. I can't let that happen. I don't know if he can, but it won't help anything to just let him do that. But can I get Kari to step down?

I flew off into the night. I had texted Kari, asking if she wanted to meet up. She had already grabbed dinner with Harold. That's fine; I'll just grab something on the way. After doing so, we met up in the city. We were just going to patrol a little. She filled me in on her fight with Lady Blade. I didn't tell her that I had met with Mister Drei just yet. I didn't know how to broach the subject. Something she said brought me back to reality. "We need to do more."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. Something about how she worded the statements raised alarms in my head. It reminded me a little of Scott. When I had been shaping his emotions, he had become much harder on crime. More violent. She was also tense and stressed out. It's understandable with what she's been going through lately, but still. It's spooky.

"Just that we need to do more," Kari responded. "I was talking with Thunderblast, and he said he didn't really trust me to do what's necessary to help people. And he's kind of right. I hesitated when I saw those cops harassing him. And I've never really stood up to them as much as I should."

"You're just one person, Kari."

"I have more power than almost anyone in the world. And I'm not doing enough." She said, back straight, fists clenched on her hips. Her cape flared out behind her. She was the spitting image of everything a superhero should be. And, as always, her heart was in the right place. "And I need to take the kid gloves off with Lady Blade. And with Curt."

"With Curt?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. He's a thief and a murderer. He needs to go down. I'm so sick of hearing his self-righteous rants and his followers tagging me in things, harassing me. And now he has a cult! One that blows up buildings in his name. Taking him down will solve a lot of problems." She turned to me. I had tried to school my face and make it passive, but I must have failed. "What are you thinking?"

"Kari . . . I . . . Something happened today. And I need you to hear me out, okay?" She frowned but nodded at me. I took a few deep breaths; she was nervous, and so was I. I put up my mental shield and blocked most of her emotions out from my preternatural senses. "I met with Esvanir today. He came to my practice."

"That's great!" Relief poured off of her. "I didn't see anything on the news about him being turned in. Did you keep it secret? It might stop Buck Cherry from breaking him out. Give us time to plan around that."

"I . . . I didn't turn him in."

"Why not!?" She asked hotly.

"Because he was there as a patient. He was trying to get help. And turning him in when he was trying to get help would just shut him down in the future. It wouldn't help anything."

"He's a murderer, Chuck! He kills people."

"Yeah," I agreed, sighing. I sat down on the edge of the building we were on. After a moment, she sat next to me.

"Then why didn't you turn him in?" She asked. She was trying to keep a cap on her emotions, but I could feel her annoyance, her fear.

"What do you want him to do, Kari?" I asked.

"I want him to stop stealing things. Stop hurting people. Stop pretending he's so damn noble."

"Well, he's already doing one of those things."

"What do you mean?"

“He . . .” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. Her emotions were pushing on me. She tried her best to be patient, but she just wanted to rush off and catch him. Impatience, anger, and betrayal all washed off of her. "He doesn't think what he's doing is noble. Just that it's the best option. He saves people . . . In his own way."

"And kills people to do it. He's just like Lady Blade!"

"No!" I scoffed. "You can disagree with his methods, but he's nothing like her. He rarely kills when he doesn't have to as a necessity for what he's doing. You know that."

"I . . . Curt still kills people, Chuck. I can't excuse that."

"So, if he was nonlethal, would you let him be?"

"No! He's still a criminal!"

"So, it's not really about him killing people, is it?"

"He's breaking the law. We can't just let people steal whatever they want."

"No, we can't. But we can also realize that the situation isn't that simple. And you know it's not. I think that's why you get so mad at him. Or . . . at least part of it." She huffed and wrapped her arms around her knees, but she looked at me, silently urging me to continue. "You get so upset with him because he has a point. He's right about how corporations do things. How they abuse people. About how people like Bion are hoarding things. How they're unethical, sometimes. He pushes on the things you believe and makes you question them. And you hate it."

"That doesn't justify what he's doing."

"Not completely, no."

"We can't just live in a society where people can take whatever they want." She said, glaring out over the city.

"He would agree."

"What?"

"That's what he thinks people like Bion are doing. Taking whatever they want. He views himself as a balance to that."

"D-do you agree with him?"

"I . . . I don't know. I think he goes too far."

"So, why didn't you turn him in?"

"Because he was scared and stressed out, and I took an oath."

"Your oath was to do no harm."

"Sending him to prison would be doing him harm."

"What?"

"Kari, come on. The absolute best thing that would happen is that he would be further radicalized. He could get hurt and maybe die. And it wouldn't do any good for his mental health, which is crumbling." She sat there for a few moments, silently. I could sense pain and anger coming off of her. But also concern and empathy.

"Is it really that bad?" She asked.

"Yeah, Kari. Probably the most on-edge, paranoid person I've ever met who I didn't advocate to be put away for an extended stay at a care facility. He's exhausted and constantly gearing up for a fight. I'm afraid that he might hurt himself if he doesn't get some help. Or someone else."

"What . . . What did you talk about?" Kari asked, then quickly added. "Right, Doctor-Patient Confidentiality. Sorry."

"That's. . . None of this is ethical, Kari. Hell, me telling you would have thrown that out the window. Besides, I think you should know." She curled into herself a little more and looked at me through her lashes. She was wound up pretty tight. "We discussed why he does what he does, a little bit about Misses Drei, and you. Most of our conversation was about you."

"I . . . Okay." She said, screwing up her face. Curiosity came through powerfully. Apprehension and curiosity.

"I asked him if he hates you." Her leg started bobbing up and down. "He says he does. He thinks that you're actively trying to ruin his life."

"What!? No, I'm not!" She roared, blasting off the ledge. She turned to me, rage contorting her face. Her arms fell down at her sides. "You know I'm not, right?"

"I . . ." I paused to consider how I wanted to approach this. "Kari, come. Sit with me. Let's talk this through."

"You," she started, sounding hurt. "You do agree with him."

"I didn't say that I did. And I don't," I cut Kari off before she could start again. "But I think it might be helpful to look at things from his perspective."

"Why should I give a damn about his perspective!?"

"Firstly, you already do. Secondly, because if you do that, you might be able to calm things down."

"What do you mean?"

"He's gearing up for a war, Kari," I said simply. She looked thunderstruck.

"What?"

"He sees you as a threat. And he thinks the only way to stop you from ruining his life further is to kill you."

"And you're still on his side!?" She demanded, pushing herself into my personal space. I glared at her and forced her back, raising myself off the ledge. She backed off some.

"Sides!" I yelled. "Both of you are totally convinced that there's some side that you have to be on!"

She cowered away. I had never yelled around her, but my emotions were frayed as well. I was also exhausted between the two of them and just the general feeling of discontentment around me. I took a few deep breaths and took control of my emotions. I didn't crush or compress them. I just wrestled them a little and sorted through them. In some ways, it was harder reading my own emotions than it was other people's. After a moment or two, with us just floating there, midair, I spoke as calmly as I could, "I'm not taking anyone's side, Kari. Not his and not yours. I'm trying to be fair to both of you. Because he needs help. He's spiraling. And because I know this is tearing you up. I know that you both need to calm down. Because I think if I can't help him, and I might be the only person who could, he will just become more desperate until he finds a way to really hurt you or dies trying."

She floated there, considering. The anger was still there, but she had gotten a cap on it. She drifted back to the ledge. "Okay. I'll try to listen. But I can't guarantee I'll agree with him. Or with you."

"Thank you, Kari."

"For what?"

"For trying."

"That's all we can do, right?"