123 Blackrose Street. It was a place that had gotten a lot more attention lately, though the nosy people around knew better than to try and test the vigilance of the armed guards patrolling the area. One of the facility's inhabitants was looking for something to do, bored out of her mind. The mutated rodent passed her head through the doorway to the warehouse that had been turned into an impromptu training room, and something instantly caught her eye.

Rapidly moving from place to place was a black blur, passing by faster than she could track. Oddly enough the mass made no sound when it collided with any of the surfaces it bounced off. The only noise in the room instead was the wooshing of the displaced air in the mad race.

Watching the bizarre spectacle were two of her siblings, one noticeably larger than the other. The rat who stood up to a man's waist when on her hind legs scuttled towards them, her bent tail carefully kept close to the rest of her body to avoid falling victim to the unstoppable force at play.

Thankfully for Foudre, her siblings had the kindness to make space for her to stand in, even her younger brother, though it was clear he didn't make as much of an effort as their older sister. Though, for once, his dismissive behavior didn't seem to result from his prickly personality, but rather the intensity with which he was watching what had to be their adoptive father doing something weird once again.

"So, what's dad doing?"

The taller rat, with metallic streaks in her fur, was the one who answered first.

"He is currently training to adapt to high speeds. He wishes to be ready for future opponents like Pierce Evil, and hopefully match them. While he can rival the knight in output, he still lacks control and reflexes."

Just because Lucille answered first didn't mean David stayed silent.

"Also something about shadows moving or whatever."

Foudre tilted her head. She wasn't surprised by their patriarch's actions, if anything she planned on doing something similar herself later on given her preference for ending fights in a single rapid counterstrike, but rather that her tempestuous brother had noticed something their more controlled sister had missed.

"And are you sure it's safe? I love Dad, but yesterday we still had black fireballs running amock.

David scoffed, and Lucille explained.

"We told him. He's going out of his way not to get close to us. Let your eyes unfocus, you'll notice it."

Foudre had her doubts, but she knew her sister wouldn't trick her. Well, not this sister in particular. She did as she advised, and was surprised to see that the blur she had been struggling to keep track of turned from a single moving mass to a more diffuse thing, a general zone of shadows with occasional darker spots, a zone that the area around her and her siblings as well as the path to the exit had spared.

"Father told us about this phenomenon, how not trying to track a rapid object could occasionally be more effective than focusing on it."

"Couldn't tell much about it, though. The old man isn't the sharpest tool in the shed."

"David."

"What? It's true."

Foudre shook her head. Usually, Lucille would have joined her, but it was clear her overly serious sister was far too engrossed by what their father was doing to despair at their youngest brother's terrible attitude.

"And what are the two of you doing, then?"

"I am following in father's footsteps. By following his fast movements, I aim to improve my ability to see incoming strikes."

"And I'm just here to count how many times the old man hits a corner."

Foudre had an inkling her brother wasn't quite as careless as he wished to portray. The fact he was just as diligent as Lucille in his observation didn't scream lazy bum in search of entertainment, nor did the occasional twitching of his fingers when James got particularly close. The runt of the litter may have been the most unruly of the siblings, but he could easily focus when it came to fighting.

"And how long have you two been here?"

"I dunno, an hour or two?"

"Forty-eight minutes, with some seconds to spare."

Foudre hummed.

"Can I join in?"

"Of course. Just know we prefer to watch in silence."

"I want to hear the thud when he stumbles and hits the wall. What have you been doing, anyway?"

"I lent a paw to Blanche to style her fur, and Goliath needed me to tailor my new weapon."

"A new sparkly thing? Again? How many of those do you need? You can shock stuff yourself anyway."

"I may not share Blanche's obsessions, but I do prefer to keep my claws clean. Not everyone enjoys showering in blood. Besides, I like the extra reach and the gizmos he comes up with. He apparently has been fashioning a sawblade into a shield, either for me to power up or Blanche to throw should her powers improve."

Foudre's older sister promptly reacted to her words with the closest thing a mutated rat could get to a raised eyebrow, though she still didn't let her gaze leave her father's fast-paced movements.

"Do they?"

Foudre grimaced as Lucille's question.

"Not as much as they would if she focused a little more on training rather than styling."

"Ah! Knew it. What about the big guy? I know playing with scraps can be hard, but he hasn't dropped the heat did he?"

"No. He uses red-hot claws to cut and fuse back the metal of the scraps he uses and warms up his paws to counteract the cold of the floor."

"Oooh, hot cuts. Shame it's him who got that, he ain't the style to harm people more than necessary, and those got to hurt."

Lucille lightly shook her head, though not enough to disturb her staring.

"You are mistaken, brother. They quite fit his merciful disposition: unlike your exsanguinating work, his attacks will cauterize wounds and thus prevent blood loss, thus diminishing the overall fatality rate. Though I cannot deny you are right to say the experience will be more painful than he is comfortable with."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Uh. When you put it like that... What about you, happy with your metal shtick?"

"I cannot complain. It is versatile, both offensively and defensively. In truth, I suspect our powers may match our personalities or vice-versa. Blanche's telekinesis fits her desire to keep herself clean and avoid efforts while your own wind bursts are perfect for your constant need to rush in battle. What about you, Foudre?"

"Lightning strikes. One blow is all it takes, a flash and everything ends. I like it. I don't care why I can do it, only how to do it better."

Lucille hummed her approval, more than appreciating the desire for efficiency, while David grumbled in his whiskers about how unfun that fighting style was. It wasn't unexpected for someone who loved playing with his prey so much when hunting, the sisters just hoped he'd be able to reign those tendencies in if they were to pursue their wish to become Heroes. Heroes didn't have fun at the expanse of criminals, it was unfitting sadistic behavior or it wasted time that could be put to use helping people.

After that, the three sat in silence for the better part of half an hour before something came to David's mind.

"Hey, wasn't it today the old man was supposed to see that chick from the park?"

"Language, David. But-"

Before Lucille could finish scolding her brother, their father rushed down from the ceiling, falling onto the ground and spreading into a pool of shadows before quickly bouncing and inflating back into his usual Silhouette shape, the darkness that had been splashed around joining back into him.

"David, what did you just say?"

"That gal, what's-her-name, weren't you supposed to go see her this evening or something?"

"Argh, I knew I forgot something. Marie and her husband are supposed to help me deal with the paperwork for your school."

"Do we really have to go, Dad?"

"Yeah, old man, do we? I don't need to know how to build a house to beat up monsters."

"Children. You will go to school. Not only is it mandatory to achieve a bare minimum level of education, but you need to have some socialization with other children. You can't just spend all your time together or with me or the employees. Besides, I have done my research. There is a theoretical test to become a Hero trainee, which means no joining the Union if you don't work at school."

"Fine. We'll go do that stupid stuff."

"And David? No harming the other kids. Yes, even if they start it."

The small rat dropped his raised paw and deflated, the wind blown out of his sails.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see Froko about that whole apartment business so it's settled before I meet with the Merries. It'd be really awkward not to have an address to give after everything I told them about us having a stable situation."

And on those words, James blasted away, turning into something akin to a missile of black smoke that left the warehouse before any of his children could react. With him gone, the three no longer had anything to stare at and thus exchanged glances.

Or, more accurately, Lucille and Foudre stared at their brother unamused.

"What? Usually, you want me to be nice and stuff, wasn't telling him about this nice?"

"Yeah, yeah it was. But you could be nicer to Dad."

"And you could stand to gain from curbing your violent urges back. Not to mention, father has been explicit about our need to partake in public education multiple times."

"Hey! Crooked-tail was in on that!"

"Hey!"

"Don't call her that. But yes, I recall her attempt as well. On that point, I am very disappointed in you, Foudre. I expected this from our black sheep, but you?"

"Argh, sorry sis, it's just... Sitting all day doing nothing sounds so boring."

"Learning is a very taxing process, Foudre. If Father is to be trusted, you won't be bored quite so easily, at least not for long. Besides, I am certain that should you share your concerns with Father, he might find a solution. I remember Miss Merry mentioning the school taking care of special needs some students may have, perhaps a way to canalize your surplus of energy or help make lessons more tolerable for you could be arranged."

"Cutter, you gotta learn to talk fast."

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, I'm with murder boy on this one. You sound older than Dad when you open your mouth."

"Excuse you!"

David let out a squeaky giggle at his sister's annoyance, before promptly jumping out of the way as she whacked her tail at him. This time his laughter was much more mocking, and thus began a chase between the metal and air ratlings, their electric sister deciding to tag along, having nothing better to do.

Sitting in the new break room their latest boss had created in their old office, the duo of former Runarian Knights once known as Tristare and Medraw were drinking away cups of what could be described as the best coffee in the area, a paltry title to obtain in the slums. Not to say the brew was atrocious, the two fighters had been in more civilized parts in the past and had been to regular caffés with worse drinks, but the liquid currently flowing down their throats was far from the best they had.

Truth be told, this was the coffee only the elites of Runar's group had access to in the past, with the man himself preferring much more expensive teas, and what made the situation truly different from the norm for the two aside from the location was the fact that they weren't the only ones drinking this brew despite being the last two survivors of the now disbanded criminal organization.

They were surrounded by people of all sorts, though the vast majority wore the equipment of guards, or as they liked to call themselves, the Shadow Commando garb. The three-eyed fishman by the name of Valker in particular was disturbed by their new defenders, having experienced his first defeat in a long time at their hands. Or more accurately, his temper had been shattered by the phantasmagorical level of sheer idiocy they were capable of despite their objective remarkable effectiveness when they raided the very building they now all took a break in.

There were also some more usual ruffians, locals who did the heavy lifting now that the violent thugs of the past were gone, as well as a few of the runic scribes who worked hard each day to create the magical items that would then be sold in Silhouette's shop. Those former technical apprentices of the runemaster that operated the place had been for the most part spared from the transformative weaponry of the Commando during the raid, leading to the vast majority remaining normal and vowing loyalty to Silhouette via magical contracts. They were the rarest group to see in the break rooms spread between the floors, understandably still shaken by the change in leadership following the violent hostile takeover they had been the victims of.

Well, technically there was one more group of people present in the room, but those weren't on break. The Infused, the unfortunate ones who had been transformed by Silhouette's corruptive powers, had no true ego to speak of, being no better than soulless robots. They served as guards most of the time, with the Commando only being here on visits to socialize with the new employees to build trust and loyalty or during inspections to check on how things were going. Not that either of the two de facto leaders of the former Runarian troops had any plan to rebel, even without the soul-binding contracts they had signed they both knew better than to antagonize Silhouette again, especially when his body double was nearby.

Solvent never left the roof office, waiting silently for reports and orders from their master, as well as keeping an eye on the surroundings. They were effectively a scarecrow who doubled as an emergency contact to their new boss, but no one could deny the black goop-covered skeleton was the best at their job.

Valker shared a look with Medraw, though he couldn't be fully sure she truly reciprocated it given her lack of pupils and irises. Bug eyes weren't the best when it came to showing emotions, after all, and that was coming from someone descended from fish. The mutant cockroach had been left with no choice but to mingle with the others without her usual human disguise for a time, the magical equipment providing the illusion having been broken and undergoing repairs, and she had reluctantly gotten used to it by now, even when fooling her surroundings had become possible once more.

Well, to be more truthful, a member of the Shadow Commando had commented on how letting them know what she looked like would be helpful to deal with potential impostors in the future, as well as be a great show of trust, and had the bright idea to share it with Solvent before Medraw could give them a piece of her mind. The rule was made, and she was stuck with it. At least she still wore her leather suit, rather than being left in bare chitin like she had been when the rats caught her.

She shivered at the thought. She knew the rodents were around, out of her sight, hidden from even Valker. But she wouldn't be fooled. She knew they were the true backbone of Silhouette's empire, always watching, always listening, their claws and teeth always ready to maim the poor idiots who might decide to try their chance at fighting or betraying Silhouette.

Even now, she could spy some black fur scuttling in the corner of her eye, keeping an eye on what took place in their bizarre break room.

Amidst this sea of changes, there was one uncomfortable truth the duo had realized, one neither dared to speak out loud even though they both knew it and knew the other was onto it as well.

This was probably the best their lives had ever been.