2103:11:22:02:11:01

  “Hi Millie,” I said.

  Her mouth hung open in shock. If only I had a peanut or something to throw in it.

  “You’re Jester?!”

  “No, clearly not,” I deadpanned.

  “Oh, shut up,” Millie said, rolling her eyes if her head movement was anything to go by. She went for the chair and grabbed it. “Ugh, couldn’t you have done this another way?” she said, placing the chair and herself next to me. “You like nearly gave me a heart attack! And put your mask back on! There’re cameras in this room. They’re off now, but still; be more careful with stuff like that!”

  I shrugged and put on the veil again. “Then why aren’t you wearing your voice changer?” I accused.

  “Ugh,” she huffed, though there was a tinge of embarrassment to it. “Do you know how annoying that thing is? If I’d known they’d stick one in my cheek, I’d have picked a full-cover mask. Besides, normally,” she narrowed her eyes at me, a genuine look of disapproval on it as real as it was rare for Millie, “masked don’t just blurt out another’s identity right after they recognize it.”

  I winced. “Sorry,” I said. “It just… didn’t feel right to know without you knowing mine as well.”

  Millie sighed and looked kind of awkward at that, fidgeting in her chair. “Well, yeah, I agree, but… Man, I don’t know. We’re told to be veeeery careful with our real identities around other masked.” A lesson that hadn’t stuck, apparently. “Hell, I don’t even know the names of some of my teammates!”

  “What about non-masked?” I asked.

  My question hit right on target.

  She sighed and tugged at her hair nervously. “It’s not like I wasn’t planning on telling you or anything… It’s just- it took me more than a year to tell Jolie and Saga, and by that point we were already besties, and I didn’t find a good moment to tell you, and-”

  I interrupted her rambling. “I’m not angry, Millie. I mean, I’ve known you three for basically all my life and I didn’t say anything.”

  “Ugh, you gotta stop making that joke Sam. It’s not as funny as you think.” She might be saying that, but I could see her doing her best to try and hide her smile. And it helped clear the air some.

  “Never,” I replied. “It’s vintage by now.”

  “More like stale.” This time, she failed to suppress it.

  She sat up again and faced me. “Anyway, you’ve got to tell me about the vigilante lifestyle. Like, how did you even meet Crowsong and stuff?”

  “Hmm,” I hmm-ed, “I don’t know.”

  She shook my shoulder. “Youuuuu goooot tooooo,” she whined, sounding a bit like a ghost.

  So, I did. From getting my costume, to my first night out and meeting Crowsong, my first night out – with her laughing at how I broke my nose, how mean – to me asking Crowsong to be my mentor. I explained my power, how I got my forms – including the episode at the zoo, which, again, much laughter from Millie – and the many moments I spent training, patrolling or fighting Jannacht and Motorgang together with Crowsong.

  Millie explained some of her own experiences. How her power was at first a human lie detector that turned out to be a general, flexible and growing psychokinesis, including telekinesis. Very impressive, which led me to ask why I hadn’t heard much about it. Then she went ahead and blamed circumstances and me of all people. How it was my fault she was still benched after the whole Mauvist thing – which was her own fault, really – and how because of it, she’d missed the ‘excitement’ of the Jannacht expanding into Charm and got her ‘big break’ cancelled.

  I could tell she wasn’t serious about it. Well, seriously ticked off, but she wasn’t serious about blaming me. She did blame me for getting her dragged out here in the middle of the night – really, what was the Prospectus’ policy towards children doing night shifts? – but I said she should take it up with her manager. Which made her chuckle for some reason?

  At some point, she started talking about the other Prospectus members when we were suddenly interrupted. The door was thrown open and Crowsong barged in, fully clothed in her now-dry costume – she even had her swords back – and carrying mine underneath her arm.

  “Jester!” she shouted, clearly agitated. “Let’s go, we’re done with t-” she paused, seeing me and Millie next to each other. “Oh no, don’t tell me you…” she groaned.

  What?

  Millie jumped up out of her chair, fist to her sides and chest puffed up. “Do not worry, valiant vigilant vigilante! Your protégé is safe with us!”

  The room turned silent for an uncomfortably long moment. Long enough for even Millie to start to flag under its weight.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Crowsong said. “Jester, please don’t tell me you-” She clamped her mouth shut before she finished.

  “I’ve not joined them,” I said, hurt that she thought I would.

  “That’s not what I-” she again cut herself off before she finished the sentence, still as still as a statue. She observed me, turned to Millie, then to me, to Millie, before finally levelling her gaze at me. She groaned. “Ohhh, you did, didn’t you. God fucking- of course you did. And of course they sent her of all people for the pitch.”

  “What did I do?” I asked. Had I done something wrong? What could she have had figured out just by looking?

  She looked agitated- no, she looked apoplectic yet struggling with letting it all out. Her body was moving up and down slightly in frustration, her fist clenching and unclenching. I could imagine that, beneath her beaked mask, she was opening and closing her mouth, failing to find the words.

  What those words were, though…

  “Know what? Fuck it,” Crowsong said, kicking a foot back to slam closed the door behind her. “Fuck it! Why did I even bother with this shit!” She threw a quick couple of knives to the corners of the room.

  We jumped out of our chairs, but before either of us could stop her, before we could even ask what she was doing, Crowsong unlatched the bottom of her beak and threw off the top half as well.

  This time, it was me that froze in disbelief.

  “No. Way,” Millie said. “Amber?!”

  Amber looked red in the face and angry, scowling to a degree greater than was usual. “Yes, great idea Millie, shout from the rooftops that you know me. Real great idea there.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I’d always known the mask did something to her voice, but now that she’d pulled it off… how could I have missed the similarities? Despite similar ages, heights, me clocking Amber as a candidate for masked from the beginning, and a similar kind of energy to them, they’d always remained two clearly separate entities in my mind. That, the Treaty and my respect for Crowsong wanting to keep masked and private life separate made sure I never dug too deep.

  “Wait, you knew my identity?” Millie asked. “Since when?”

  Even now, with the secret out in the open, part of me still couldn’t believe it. I’ve been her protégé, her apprentice, her sidekick for nearly two months, and all this time she’d been my deskmate-turned-friend too?

  “I met you once before, remember? Lady Mercy was first responder when Blackhawk… well, you know.”

  And she didn’t tell me? It bothered me. And it bothered me that it bothered me. With Millie, I wasn’t upset despite her not telling me while sharing it with Jolie and Saga.

  “Oh, right, I remember that. You didn’t talk much for obvious reasons, but I- wait, how did you recognize me from just that?” Millie asked.

  Why wasn’t this the same? Maybe if Amber had just been my friend, I wouldn’t have been upset. But Crowsong was my mentor. I respected her. I respected her a lot, and trusted her completely. If she’d asked me to share my civilian identity- well, I’d think she was testing me, but I would’ve given it if she’d genuinely asked it of me.

  “I’ve got a thing for voices, and your voice and speech is very, ah… recognizable,” Amber said. “Especially when you’re not wearing your mandatory voice changer.”

  Milie scoffed at the chastisement. “You’re not my mom.”

  But she already knew both my identities, both Jester and Samantha, and had chosen to remain silent about it. Why?

  “You knew from the start?” I asked.

  Crowsong met my gaze for only a moment before looking away and down.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I said.

  Amber fidgeted under my stare. “I just- you know how I feel about the Treaty and identities. It was how my mentor taught me, what he told me about his own experiences in the Guardians,” she explained. “I’ve never told anyone – not my parents, my siblings, my old friends. I never wanted to tell anyone at all.”

  Multiple questions arose in my mind from that, but I started with, “If you wanted to keep that distance, why even accept me at all?”

  Her fidgeting turned to something more like anger. “God, you know how hard it was to find anyone? No one wants to become a vigilante. They either go hero, villain or rogue, depending on how heavy they weigh money against their own morals. Those that do decide to go vigilante either have a chip on their shoulder with the government, or are suicidal, bloodthirsty maniacs, future villains, or lone wolves with the projected lifespan of a field mouse.”

  Crowsong exhaled heavily, frustration leaking from her body. “And the few that remain?” She smiled bitterly. “Well, who in their right mind wants to work under a teenager? Even if that teenager has more experience in a single one of her toes than they have in their entire goddamn lives. Isn’t it just embarrassing to get talked down to by some someone like that? After all, they can just join the Sentinels if they really want someone to teach them – and they’d be better off for it too.”

  I blinked in surprise. Crowsong was usually much more confident around me.

  But she wasn’t done with the self-deprecation yet. “I tried, you know? Ever since my mentor died, I’d been looking for someone to pass on his legacy. It was my life’s mission. But everyone I found was just… dogshit. You know who the last one I tried it with was?” She asked and I shook my head. “Drake. Fucking Drake of all people. And even that little shit turned me down. Others did as well, all preferring something other than me.”

  She took a few steadying breaths before continuing. “And then you came along. And at first I thought, ‘no, she’s too close’, but then-” She scratched the side of her head. “Look, not to sound like a dick or anything, but you were a perfect blank slate. Achronally displaced and without memories, with powers that you thought were lackluster but clearly weren’t, a straightforward attitude, a good heart and for whatever reason a dislike of the more standard hero teams… well, that’s worth a lot more.”

  “Why tell me now?” I turned to Millie, then turned back. “Why tell us now?”

  “I guess after I figured you shared your identity with Millie, I thought ‘why do I even bother’ and decided to just… throw it out there. It’s difficult enough to hide a secret…” She hesitated. “Especially with people you’ve grown close to.”

  What was I even supposed to think about that?

  “What about me?” Millie asked.

  Should I feel glad she finally confessed it to me? Was confessed even the right word?

  Amber shrugged. “Right place, right time I guess.”

  “Awww.”

  As Amber said, the Treaty was paramount. I had no right to demand her to tell me her civilian identity.

  “Besides, I figured it was only fair to share my identity when I already knew yours. Sorry it took so long, I guess?” Amber said.

  And she did share it in the end. Even if the method seemed a bit… abrupt. More Amber than Crowsong, in that way.

  Millie snorted. “That’s one of the worst apology I’ve ever heard.”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “It’s the one you’re getting.”

  Besides, there was a big upside to all this. “This is good, actually,” I decided. Millie and Amber both turned to me.

  “What is?” Amber asked.

  “That you’re you,” I said. “I can say to Mom that we’re hanging out and I can join you on weekends during daylight hours.” Or we could hang out for real, but Amber never took me up on it before, so I didn’t say it.

  “Always so quick to forget your old friends,” Millie teased.

  I shrugged. “Then you should’ve told me you’re a masked sooner.”

  Millie stuck out her tongue. “Good luck convincing your mom,” Millie said.

  I grimaced. “Right.” One day on the weekends every so often was fine, but Mom wasn’t… quick to let go.

  “We’ll work something out,” Amber interjected. “But for now… we’ve got one more thing to do.”

  Amber put her mask back again, fixing the lower jaw to the rest with a click. “LieSpy,” the newly gruff-ified voice said, Amber turning to Crowsong. “Could you leave us for a second. We’ve got a call to make.”

  Millie – or LieSpy, now that we were all in-costume again, shrugged. “Sure, sure. Go and contact your super secret augur friend,” she said, then left.

  She’d been listening in?

  Crowsong turned to me and threw my dried Jester costume on the table. At a glance, it seemed fine – ripped in places, but nothing a visit to Evergreen's Periodically Appropriate Dresses couldn’t fix. My jester’s scepter/baton, however, was bent well out of shape, to the point it was about to snap.

  Meh. Wasn’t like I used it much anymore.

  “You told them about Nth-Sight?” Crowsong asked, snapping me out of my examinations.

  I nodded. “Was it supposed to be a secret?” I said, grabbing the clothes.

  “Know what? Not my problem,” Crowsong said, with no small amount of malice. “Go and get dressed. I’ll make the call after – you never know what an augur might see.”

  I stared at the clothes, then back at Crowsong. She stared back, and I could feel her lift one eyebrow at me. Did she want me to change with her in the room?

  She must’ve read my mind, because she rolled her head and said, “Really? We literally change clothes together all the time after gym class.” Seeing me stand still, she continued with, “Fine. One minute should be enough,” before leaving the room.

  X

  “Well. Fuck,” Nth-Sight responded.

  “Really, ‘well fuck’? That’s all you have to say after nearly getting us blown up?!” Crowsong shouted, and had been shouting so much her voice was getting hoarse from it.

  She’d been getting more and more heated during the explanation, and that might’ve been the worst response Nth-Sight could’ve given.

  “What else do you want me to say? You know my vision gets wonky around your apprentice.”

  “You saying it’s our fault then?” Crowsong said.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s your fault,” he replied. “Just explaining what happened.”

  “And you couldn’t, I don’t know, see an explosion in that vaunted vision of yours?”

  “I saw several,” he said tersely. “But most were at the Syndicate’s base. Only a few involved the bridge at all, and those that did were ones you weren’t involved in.”

  “And you did not think it’d be useful to mention?” Crowsong accused.

  “Why mention something that does not involve you?” Nth-Sight responded.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Professional courtesy, maybe?” she said. “How can we work if you don’t give us all the intel. Hell, what good even are you if we can’t rely on you to give us all the information?” she spat.

  “What good am I?” he returned just as venomous. “What good are you? I asked you to stop them before they could get to the base, and what do you do? Park right outside of their fucking door!”

  “Don’t blame your lack of ‘foresight’-” she mocked, “-on me. How about you get your eyes checked before you start speaking again.”

  “Do you know how many things I have to deal with in this goddamn city? How many times things would turn to shit if I wasn’t involved? You’d be nothing without my intel, just another blip on the radar. Just another body in a bag. And you expect me-!” he cut himself off, a series of deep inhales and exhales following immediately after.

  “Know what? Screw this,” Nth-Sight said tiredly. “If you can’t be civil about it, you won’t get anything more from me. We’re done.”

  “Good. I can feel my lifespan growing already,” Crowsong said snidely.

  “Maybe I’ll have better luck with your apprentice,” Nth-Sight finished.

  Crowsong’s phone bleeped. He’d hung up.

  Crowsong sat down in the chair and we both sat in silence for a second, quietly digesting the conversation.

  “He didn’t know I was listening in?” I asked. That’s what it sounded like at least.

  Which was weird. Crowsong had made various references to ‘us’ and ‘we’ during the conversation, and considering it was the still the same night, Nth-Sight – or anyone, really – should’ve guessed I was still here as well.

  “Rather than not knowing you were here, it sounded like he was sure you weren’t,” Crowsong mused before shaking her head. “Must’ve been relying on his powers too much; a bad habit among augurs.” She tilted her head. “Well, masked in general, but augurs’ are rarely visible and they use it to think, so they’re worse.”

  And because he’d already admitted I was a sort-of shadow to his ‘sight’, so maybe he could see Crowsong, he didn’t think I would be in the room with her… or something like that. I had no idea how his power really worked, let alone around me.

  “Either way,” Crowsong continued, “I guess you can expect more personal calls from him now?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll send you everything he sends me. He must know that, right?”

  “I don’t know…” Crowsong said. “There’s something off about him. Could just be the stress getting to him, or him overusing his powers, but he’s been behaving oddly. Very different compared to before.”

  “How so?”

  “He was always a smarmy, self-assured little bastard, but he never got this agitated. He likes to be one step ahead, sure, but he preferred to work in the background, aiming for money or favors or whatever to fuel what I thought to be some sort of lavish civilian lifestyle. Not whatever this is. Of all of Charm’s rogue augurs, he was the type where you get in, ask your questions, and get out. But now he’s meddling in the most high-profile war this city has seen in ages?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Didn’t he already explain that?”

  “Sure, but… I don’t know. For someone so removed from the situation, he sure likes to pretend he has huge stakes in this. Which makes it doubly weird that he’s only working through us – and now only through you. Shouldn’t he be spreading his info around? To other vigilantes and heroes at least? But the Sentinels haven’t heard of him, and from LieSpy’s comments it seems like the Wardens haven’t either.”

  “The interviewing officer didn’t know him either,” I added.

  “That’s what I mean. It’s one thing not to know some random rogue augur. But to not know an augur that’s proudly proclaiming that he wants to help Charm get rid of the Jannacht?” she said, leaving the rest unspoken.

  “So what should I do?” I asked.

  “Exactly what you said. We do the same as before,” she said. “Accept his requests, send them to me, and we’ll figure it out from there. Play into what he says and try to get him to reveal something. Maybe with that, we’ll figure out what he’s up to.”

  She rose up out of her chair. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

  I followed, but froze mid-step. “Wait. What about the cameras?

  Crowsong turned and we both looked at the corners of the room. Right as we did, one of them shot out thin blue sparks of electricity.

  “Meh,” she said, shrugging. “We’ll let Millie take that one.”