=== Curt ===

After my session with Professor Mind, I came to the hotel room that Cindi and I had been staying in. We were working on getting a more permanent space, but it was rough. I wanted to live somewhere in the States, but we were both wanted criminals. She wanted a place with every creature comfort one could imagine. Except for the Tesla Coils that I said I needed to be a proper Mad Engineer. If we had more space than a hotel room, my bed might not have been covered in . . . A lot of things. Artifacts from all over the world. I couldn’t name any of them. Or even half the cultures they were from with any more specificity than “Asian” or “Middle Eastern”, et cetera. I picked one up and called out. “Cin? What’s with the stuff?”

“Don’t touch any of it!” She called out from the other room. I examined the dagger I had picked up; it was a little weird. It had a glass bottle filled with sand at the bottom. She walked in, rubbing a towel against her hair. “Curt, what did I just say?”

“I had already picked it up by the time you said that. Why can’t I touch it? We can get rid of any evidence.”

“Because Tierra and I haven’t decided how we’re going to split it up yet.” I turned to her. She was wearing a robe. Under the robe, I could see a huge purple bruise. Her eyes were slightly unfocused. I put the dagger down carefully and walked up to her, lifting her chin. She pulled away, and I let her go, frowning.

“Hard job?”

“Oh, you know how it is. A little more security than you’re prepared for and the entire plan is shot,” Cherry said noncommittally.

“Oh,” I responded robotically. I wanted to go to her and make sure that she was okay. Anything that could bruise Cindi was serious. But she wasn’t talking about it, which meant she didn’t want to talk about it. It could be because she didn’t think it was a big deal or because she didn’t want to worry me. Good luck with that. I’m always worried. I sighed, walked into the sitting room, and took out my phone, mindlessly scrolling as I considered Professor Mind’s advice.

“I think you need to take a vacation,” he had said.

“I’m already living out of a hotel. I haven’t done legitimate work in months. I think technically I’m on vacation already.”

“Do you really believe that?” He asked. I hadn’t had a response, so he continued. “You carry a lot on your shoulders. You have experienced a significant amount of trauma, and you need time to recuperate. My suggestion is twofold. You need to get away from everything. From the Acolytes, from Smash Gal, from Twitter, from everything. Take Misses Drei and go somewhere private. Then come back for more therapy. Because I think you need it.”

“What happens if I come here next time and cops are here to arrest me? Smash Gal or Thunderblast?”

“Curtis, I could’ve tried to capture you already. I could have reached out to them, and they’d be here if I wanted them to be. But I suppose it is a possibility. What if I say this: when we’re in this office, when we’re alone, in this room, there is a pact of nonaggression? That would mean that neither side will attack or detain the other.”

“I’ve never been a fan of the Pact of Nonaggression. Always seemed like if one person decides it’s not worth it to keep it up, it falls apart.”

“True enough. But that’s all I got. I can’t promise you everything will go well, but I can promise that I can try.”

“Can . . . Can I think about this? All of this,” I asked. “I don’t know how to feel about any of it right now.”

“Of course.” It was just that easy. I hate to admit it, but I think he’s actually a really good shrink. Jackass.

As I was scrolling through Twitter, against my doctor’s orders, something I take great pleasure doing given my relationship with Des, I saw the interview with my parents. I hadn’t really watched it; I was honestly kind of afraid to. This was a link to the entire thing. My thumb hovered over it. I tapped the link, and it brought me to YouTube. My mother and father, Margaret and Jay Reese, were sitting on the back patio. They had refurbished it since I had last been there. The reporter sat across from them. My mother held up the picture they’d taken for the Sadie Hawkins Dance. My red face and ridiculous, cheap tuxedo and Kari towering over me already at thirteen. I clenched my fist.

“What do you think of what Curt has been accused of?” The reporter asked. My mother began to speak, but my father cut over her.

“We taught him better than to be a no-good thief. And a commie at that. My own son . . .” He trailed off, and my mother cut in.

“He was always a passionate boy. Smart as can be. And I think that’s his problem. He sees all of these hardships people go through and wants to do something about it. Then he just decides to. Whether or not it’s the right thing. He . . . He cares about people. He just needs to realize that there’s a right way and a wrong way of doing things.”

“Smart? He’s a [bleep]ing commie!” My father scoffed. “How smart could he be?”

“Did you know that he was a thief before his identity was revealed by Smash Gal?”

“No, he . . . he doesn’t visit often,” my mother said. She seemed almost sad about it.

“He emancipated himself at seventeen and hasn’t been back since. Was probably mad that I wanted him to work instead of going to college like I do. I run my own construction business, Reese Cons. Obviously, those Marxist professors got to him.” I turned the interview off. I didn’t really need to see more. It was a little strange how different they looked. It had been twelve years since I had seen them. But I hadn’t considered their hair growing gray, their faces becoming harder and more leathered.

Cindi curled up on the couch next to me, and wrapped my arm around her. I stroked her arm absently. “How was therapy?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question. I laid my head back. I could feel her eyes on me. “No biggie. Turns out I’m not as unstable as either you or Des think. But he does want me to go on a vacation.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. I didn’t know what she was thinking. “Well . . . we can do our full honeymoon. Something nice and romantic and hopefully on-planet. With the score I just made, we have a nice little bonus.”

“Yeah, but we should probably avoid Italy and Sicily, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Being that close to Marcelli after you just robbed him would probably be a mistake.”

“How’d you know?”

“The Baast statue was kind of a dead giveaway.”

=== Kari ===

I had listened to Chuck go through what he thought about Curt. The fact that he had shown up to a therapy session with Professor Mind on accident was kind of funny. But I couldn’t even enjoy the irony of that. He’s gearing up for war; that’s what Chuck had said. We had gone over everything that had happened between us. All of the fighting, me almost killing him several times. I had much more control than when I started, but looking back at how I had been treating him, I was definitely out of line sometimes. That didn’t excuse what he was doing. But I had almost killed him. I had nearly killed the woman he loved. When you laid it all out, it made sense why he would fear me. Why he would hate me. I couldn’t blame him for that. But what am I supposed to do? Just let him go out and steal? Kill people during his thefts? None of this is right.

I left Chuck behind. I needed time to think about this. I flew around the city, stretching out my abilities. I wasn’t really patrolling so much as just trying to be in the moment. I was really stressed out about how I had done things. Unfortunately, I was brought back to reality. There was screaming. I could hear people running and panting. I put Curt and Chuck out of my mind and sped down to earth. I landed on the ground, fist pressed into the street. Then I looked up. There was a woman in a bright yellow raincoat and enormous boots, with a maniacal grin on her face. Under her raincoat, she wore a bright red tube top and short-shorts. Next to her was a man in a cool-blue business suit. She cackled and extended a hand. Ice shot forth, freezing a man who was midstep, and he crashed to the ground and shattered. Cops circled from behind and started firing at her back. The man in the business suit waved his hand, and fire lanced out, melting the bullets before they ever came close. He stood straight and glared through his plain glasses. She cackled and clutched his chin in her hand, which ended in long fingernails. “Thank you, m’lord.”

“Of course, m’lady,” he responded in a monotone. “We should probably escalate this if our intentions are to be accomplished.”

“Right you are!” She yelled, stomping forward in her large boots; the man was fit and strong-looking but otherwise unassuming. He had black hair, combed back responsibly. Her makeup and hair were exaggerated. Her eyes were two different colors, and her hair was cut in jagged pieces and was a bright, radioactive yellow. They were a bizarre couple. I couldn’t quite get a read on them at all. She jumped onto the hood of a car and then the roof and spun, firing out several more blasts of ice. People hopped and jumped out of the way. She extended out her arms and shouted, “People of Avalare. Send out your champions. We have come to claim this land for our own.”

“You stop that!” I shouted back, charging forward.

“Aaand we have our first challenger!” She grinned down at me, pointing her long finger; ice shot forward. I dashed to the side and started towards her. Just as I got to her, fire erupted in front of me. I stopped just before it; the fire died down. Her hand shot forth and gripped my face; ice flowed from it into my eyes, nose, and mouth. I coughed and gagged. In a second, my head was encased in ice. I couldn’t breathe. Pain shot out, and I couldn’t think straight. Still gripping my head, she jumped down from the car and slammed my face on the ground. The ice shattered. She stepped over me and spun on her heel. “Is that really the best you have?”

I slowly got to my feet, shaking my head. “Brain freeze! You gave me a brain freeze!”

She stopped, eyes wide. She looked around. She took a few steps closer, wrapping an arm around my neck, and whispered into my ear, “You know you’re supposed to be dead, right? I froze your head. It’s supposed to shatter like grandma’s fine China.”

“My head is made of harder stuff than that,” I said, grinning at her. I gripped her hand, spun, and threw her into the air. She flew through the air, flipped, and shot out a stream of ice. It caught her, and she continued to fire out ice just before her. It spread quickly, and she slid back down to earth on her butt. She arched up her hand, creating a ramp, and flew back into the air. She dived at me. She’s going to get herself killed. As she fell, she reached out her hand and shot more ice out. I dove out of the way, but somehow, I wasn’t fast enough. Ice covered half of my body. I landed hard on the sidewalk, turning just in time to see her land in a perfect handstand, then flip back onto her feet, arms extended like a gymnast. A crooked grin spread across her face. Her companion clapped, smirking with her.

I stood up, flexing my arm and leg, and the ice shattered. I clenched my fist and charged forward. I tried to clothesline the supposed Queen, but she ducked under it, and I was blasted with fire. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I was blasted with fiery plasma and thrown to the side. I grimaced and threw it off, glaring at her. She grinned at her friend. “Who the hell are you people?”

“I’m the Ice Queen Prince, future ruler of America,” she said, grinning as she leaned against him. “Introduce yourself, baby.”

“I’m the Lord of Fi-”

“He’s the Flame Lord,” she cut him off, stroking his cheek fondly. He leaned into her touch. “Future househusband to the future ruler of America.”

“You’re not going to rule anything,” I exclaimed, charging forward.

=== Curt ===

We agreed to split our honeymoon into two parts. The first part would be incredibly relaxing. We would just do a bunch of the stuff we always want to do but never have time to between heists and recovery. The second part would be a glorified shopping trip for both of us. Finding stuff for each other, for ourselves, for our friends. “But before that, we have to visit Des.”

“Why?” Cindi asked.

“Because you got hurt on your last job, and I want to make sure you’re okay. And I want to prove that I’m not the only one who gets hurt on jobs.”

“Be honest, Curt. It’s mostly that second thing. I’m fine, really.”

“Sure, we can say it’s because I want to rub Des’ face in the fact,” I responded. “But we’re still doing it.”

“You’re such a baby sometimes, you know that.” She sighed and tried to pout.

“I’m fully aware, Misses Drei.” She glanced up at me, a small smile stretching her lips.

“Why, Mister Drei, you wouldn’t be trying to seduce me? I’m hurt. You could exacerbate the issue.”

“All the more reason to see the doctor. Get you cleared for duty. Or at least vacation.” I texted Des.

< Des

Got any appointments available?

How the fuck do you get hurt at a fucking therapy session?

Room 3.

Ten minutes later, we were in Des’ office. I had put Cin on the examination table. She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t necessary. I’m fine.”

“Would you accept it if I said that after being thrown around?” I asked, still scrolling. She sighed loudly.

“That’s different!”

“How?” I asked.

“You’d lie about it; I wouldn’t.”

“Cindi Drei, the Buck Cherry, the person who lied her way into an entire internship, wouldn’t tell me a white lie about how she’s feeling so we can go on a vacation?”

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you that,” she said, pouting. Des walked through the door, flipping through some pages.

“I’m afraid that you have terminal stupidity,” they said without looking up.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Cindi responded. “Curt, you’ve been suffering from that for years. Is there anything we can do?”

Des looked up and saw Cindi on the table. They then looked over at me. “Oh, it’s not you that’s hurt. Well, my joke still worked. What happened?”

“I was doing my job, and one of the animals I was dealing with threw me all around,” Cindi said as Des started examining her. Des made a noncommittal noise.

“And do we know this particular animal?”

“Yes, we do. It’s caused huge issues before,” I interjected. Cindi shot a glare at me. I blinked impassively at her.

“Oh?” Des asked.

“Yeah, has a proclivity for implanting people with dangerous things,” I responded, flicking on my screen.

“Implanting dangerous things?” Des asked, eyes wide. They resumed their examination much closer, then stopped after a moment. “M-Marcelli? You robbed Marcelli? After he planted a fucking bomb in you? Are you insane?”

“He had something I needed to get back for a friend,” Cindi responded indignantly. “I’m fine. Curt’s just a baby. Running to you every time he gets a little booboo, and now he wants me to as well. Ow! What are you doing?”

“Checking your ribs. There are a few that are broken. Or at least fractured. Heavy bruises.”

“Oh, guess our vacation will have to wait, then. That’s good; I have wor-”

“No!” Cindi yelled, slipping off the table and walking over to me. “We’re going. I’m fine.”

“Vacation?” Des asked.

“The shrink you sent him to said he needs to relax. Suggested a vacation. No Twitter, no thieving. Just us recuperating.”

“She’s in good enough health to do that. It’d be good for both of you,” Des said, considering it. “How was Doctor Berry? I hear good things.”

“He seems to be good at his job,” I answered cryptically, looking away. Cindi leaned in, examining my face closely. Des looked at me skeptically. I stepped away from my wife and walked, and shrugged. “Hard to say . . . Only had one session. I . . . might go back.”

“Curt, you said you’d try,” Des responded despondently.

“I said I’d go. I went. And . . . it’s a little complicated.”

“What’s complicated about seeing a therapist?” Cindi asked, wrapping her arms around me. “I think it’d be good for you.”

“Well, I’m an international criminal on the FBI’s most-wanted list. And he’s . . .” I froze, considering. If I told them, I’d have an out. I wouldn’t have to go again. It wasn’t really my secret to tell, but I couldn’t go back. Not after discovering who he was. “He’s Professor Mind.”

“What!?” Both Cindi and Des demanded.

“Doctor Chuck Berry, psychiatrist and psychologist, is Professor Mind, the mentalist superhero and Smash Gal’s boyfriend.”

“You’re fucking kidding!” Des all-but-shouted. “What are the odds of that?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to calculate it.

“But he told you to take a vacation?” Des asked.

“Yeah . . . It was weird.”

“This is insane.”

“I told you that when you suggested it!”

=== Kari ===

I sped forward, and the supposed Ice Queen raised her hand, and a column of ice shot up. I reared back and slammed my fist into the barrier, which shattered. I continued punching until I got through. The Flame Lord was waiting for me on the other side and slammed a fiery fist into my face. I went flying backward. I caught myself and flew around the icy debris. I ducked under a blast of ice, only to be cold-clocked by a belch of flame. I spun and put it out. They continued to alternate, the Flame Lord wearing a neutral expression contrasting the Icy Queen’s maniacal laughter.

I was pounded back by their constant barrages. Their attacks wouldn’t stop. I tried to take a deep breath, but the fire burnt up most of the air. The icy air caused by the woman’s frozen flurries cut into my lungs. I didn’t know whether to sweat or shiver. I pushed forward through their attacks, and they got more and more desperate. It didn’t hurt. I could barely feel it. But it was just so fucking annoying. Something hit me from behind, and I looked around, not seeing anything. No ice and no fire. I slammed down in front of them and slowly stepped forward as they continued to blast me with alternating attacks. Fire. Ice. More flames. More frozen air. Every time I got close, they’d pour all their energy into pushing me back. It was so frustrating.

Anger boiled up in my chest, and I blasted forward with as much speed as I could manage. The air condensed in front of me. Dust, debris, fire, and ice flew away from me as I pushed through it. The couple pushed harder and harder, and I finally met resistance. Ice formed in front of me in thick sheets. I reared back and slammed my fist into it, which shattered into millions of pieces, continuing forward. When I was finally in front of them, and in one fluid motion, I backhanded the woman and kicked the man into another wall of ice that was slowly melting in the spring heat. He slammed against it and gasped as a jagged piece of ice stuck out from his stomach. She went flying and collapsed into the wall. She was still breathing, but her neck was at an odd angle. Both of them would need a hospital before going to jail.

Cops and ambulances slowly made their way through the wreckage surrounding us and checked on the status. They were loaded onto stretches, and I saw the paramedics trying to keep the man alive. Others were gingerly moving the woman. I lost control again, I thought. This isn’t right. I have to try harder. I just got so frustrated with everything that was happening. People with cell phones were filming the aftermath. They might have been around filming the fight itself, and reporters filed in and started asking questions. I flew up. As I did so, I caught sight of several men with sniper rifles on roofs. I thought about the hit from behind during the fight. It had to have been one of them. They were following me with their guns. When I focused on their faces, I could see the look of dispassionate concentration as they pivoted their weapons. I frowned. Had they been aiming at me? I asked myself. Then another thought occurred to me. Would it have been better if they hadn’t been?