I was pacing back and forth near the side of the rooftop, my lower arms untucked and hands flexing. I was agitated and exhausted to the point that it was having quite detrimental effects on both my mood and temper. My tail was lashing around behind me.

  “Apex, we need patience. These things can only be rushed so much; shortcuts cannot be taken in most areas.” Colin’s voice was a bit tight as well. I looked over at him with a single eye. He was wearing an entirely generic and partial disguise, a PRT officer full-face helmet, his voice modulator inserted into it and activated. Indigo blue coveralls and heavy work boots obscured most of the rest of his figure.

  I attempted not to let the underlying growl in my voice bleed out too much. “I am being patient. I was patient for attempts one through three. Four and five started to grate. And now we’re preparing for six. I haven’t slept or taken a break in two days.”

  “Note to self, Apex gets cwanky when she’s hungie and seepy,” Tattletale snickered from behind her laptop. I extended a clawed middle finger at her as I continued to pace.

  “I don’t know how anyone puts up with you being on their team for any extended period of time,” Menja said to Tattletale. The space between the two when they locked eyes was virtually an instant death field for the level of body language vitriol being shot back and forth between the two.

  The day-glow reflective orange armbands each wore with the BROCKTON STRONG patch looked good on them.

  Kid Win spoke up next. “If it’s any consolation, I’m with Apex. I could use a break after this. I’m struggling to focus over here.” He popped the spring-loaded lid off his thermos open and took a deep draft of his coffee.

  “Will all of you shut the fuck up!?” Leet, also bearing an armband, shouted, not looking up from the laptop he was working on. “I don’t want to be here! This shit sucks! It’s not my fault everything else is fucked up, I wanted to be out of here hours ago!”

  Skitter turned from looking out over the edge of the roof to face Leet. “You agreed to come; nobody forced you. And you’re being well compensated for your time.”

  Leet puckered his lips like he’d just bit into a lime. I thought it suited his current look; he was cosplaying as some kid’s show character who builds things. “Yeah, well, I do this for a love of the game. You’d better not be bullshitting me with the compensation package.”

  The radio sitting on the table between Leet and Tattletale crackled to life. Eclipse’s voice came through, from elsewhere in the city. “We’re not. You’re going to get dunked on worse than last year’s semifinals match between 4Epic and OneTrue. Hope you’re ready to get taken for a ride on the school bus.”

  Leet scoffed, “Like I’d lose to a girl , much less a hero in Vee Two. I’m plat-ranked!”

  Melody came through the radio once again. “So put your money where your mouth is, bigshot. We’ll up the stakes.”

  “Done!” Leet shot back instantly.

  He has no idea what he’s signing himself up for.

  I sighed. “Status? We ready for the next attempt?”

  “Good here,” Colin said from his position near a giant rectangular steel frame of tubes, wires, and industrial parts.

  “Ditto,” Kid Win reported.

  “Just waiting on Leet,” Tattletale said with a smirk.

  Leet was furiously rattling the keys on his laptop, sweat rolling down his brow from under his hard hat and dripping into the scarf around his neck. “And done. Ready. Go.” He said after a long couple of minutes abusing the portable computer. A thick cable ran from the side of his laptop to another tinkertech contraption, a box with glowing panels, blinking lights, and an ominous air about it.

  Leet’s device was hooked to Colin and Kid Win’s device, which was hooked to a heavy, wound series of cables. The cables connected to the large rectangular device, with outer cables spitting off to that device, and inner cables being extremely securely anchored into place in several positions. The combined cable angled up over an equally robust steel frame covered in special mounts to hoist the cables over the side of the rooftop, which proceeded to sag out and across the open space between it and another high-rise building.

  We, of course, were on top of PRT HQ. We’d converted one of the helicopter landing pads over to use for this project, and this was the culmination of more than a week’s worth of work that involved hundreds of laborers, and this group we had collected here. The capes had been off and on rotation for the past 72 hours. I’d been there the entire time. Numerous other capes, with heavy participation from both the Protectorate, Wards, and New Wave, had been involved.

  This was a serious undertaking, and something we’d elevated in priority several times.

  Kid Win and Armsmaster ran a series of diagnostics on their giant piece of hardware. “Clear!” Colin reported back.

  “Still ready,” Tattletale said.

  “Going, going…” Leet tapped out a sequence on his laptop and edged away from the boxy device he was sitting near.

  That doesn’t inspire confidence…

  The lights on Leet’s box dimmed, and a high-pitched whine started to build. Louder and louder it grew, until the assembled bunch of us were all covering our ears. A mechanical CLACK! Was almost instantly followed by a BANG! Originating from Leet’s box. I saw his eyes dart nervously over towards it, but they went back to the screen as the racket went immediately silent.

  More keystrokes. “It’s good!” He reported to the group.

  “Are you actually sure this time? You said that the last two times,” Tattletale snarked.

  His response was loud and obnoxious, “Yes, I’m sure!”

  Kid Win and Colin looked at one another and nodded. Armsmaster pulled a hand-sized cylinder from his toolbelt and inserted it into a receptacle on the side of their device.

  “Firing in three, two, one…”

  Another loud bang, but this time slightly muted. The truck-sized piece of equipment the two of them were operating shook and rattled in its vibration-damping moorings. A clang, several rattles, and a whump sounded, followed by a low-pitched hum that built in volume until it was fairly loud, but not deafening.

  Colin gave a thumbs-up to Kid Win, who operated a panel on the opposite end of the device.

  “Here we go!” Kid Win shouted over the hum. He turned several large mechanical rotary switches, then pulled a larger lever. It looked like it would have fit right in on a slot machine, except it was covered in hazard tape and bright ribbon tape.

  Skitter, Menja, and I looked out over the rooftop anxiously. The lights on and in the building across the street from us clicked on several floors at a time. I followed the matching steel structures on its roof over to another side, where the cable continued onwards. The next building lit up in bits and pieces. I walked along the edge of the PRTHQ building roof, following from building to building as they lit in sequence. Four. Six. Eight. Ten. Twelve…

  Come on, come on. This is where everything failed last time.

  Thirteen lit, and the sequence continued.

  Good, good, let’s keep going. Come on, Leet, be actually useful for once, god damn it.

  I grabbed one of the radios and held a hand out to Skitter. She took it and hopped up. I hopped straight off the edge of the rooftop and took to the air to better follow the sequence as it was no longer within direct line of sight of PRTHQ.

  Contractors, volunteer laborers, and dockworkers' voices radioed in with each update.

  “Fourteen’s lit.”

  “Green across the board on fifteen.”

  “We blew two panels on sixteen, but the rest are holding!”

  Twenty came and passed. There was a partial failure on twenty-one, but it was contained to the building itself.

  A panicked-sounding voice shouted over the radio: “We’ve got a fire in twenty-three!”

  “Do we need to abort?” Colin’s voice radioed right back.

  “Hang on!”

  Twenty-four, twenty-five, and twenty-six lit.

  “We isolated the circuit and shut it down. They’ve got the fire under control with portable extinguishers!” Twenty-three radioed back.

  “Keep an eye on it,” Colin radioed back.

  Twenty-nine, thirty… Thirty-one and… thirty-two!

  “That’s all of them,” Colin said.

  Kid Win came through next, saying: “Point-to-point grid is reporting stable. Initiating failover connection test.”

  I held my breath as I flapped along. The moments dragged by at a glacial pace.

  Finally, Kid Win again: “Failover complete, network reporting stable. That’s a success!”

  I let out a triumphant roar, did a mid-air backflip-slash-loop, spun around in a brief dive, then leveled out and popped a few barrel rolls. Taylor was shrieking on my neck, but I knew she loved it. She never failed to double down on the midair acrobatics. Proper adrenaline junkie, that one.

  I flew back to PRTHQ’s roof, flying in below the level of the roof, then pulling up and lightly ‘hopping’ up and over the side and onto one of the other landing pads.

  “Alright, I’m calling it. I am OUT. Mission success, I’m going to take mandatory downtime,” I called out to the assembled task force on the roof.

  Colin was fiddling with a tablet with stubby antennas sticking out of the top. He looked up at me and nodded slowly. “Apex, Kid Win and I will handle it from here. We’re coordinating with the rest of the teams to diagnose the issues in some of the towers and put an action plan into effect. We took longer than we expected to get this operational, but we also managed to succeed without any major disasters. This is a big victory for the Bay.”

  He wasn’t lying, but I felt like it was just another stepping stone on a very, very long path towards restoration. We’d completed surveys of critical electrical infrastructure in the downtown area around PRTHQ, the part of downtown that wasn’t currently a literal lake. The underground power and data networks were toast, except for the fiber networks. The fiber network would be the easiest to restore to a limited operational status, but it was also a lower priority than water and electricity. Some might disagree, but the general consensus is that non-toxic water is more important than high-speed internet. Cellular was rock solid, as the towers were highly redundant and exclusively located on the highest points surrounding the city.

  So we devised a plan to run overland lines between downtown towers. We inspected dozens of them in the downtown area for structural stability, interior damage, available space & amenities. Cutting them off from the existing grid was easy. The part that had been a pain in the ass was all the ‘little’ unidentified issues of grounding faults, broken conduit, and unexpected water damage.

  Both Tattletale and Leet had been instrumental in helping fix those issues. Tattletale was able to sus out electrical issues and pull factors we weren’t considering out of her ass to troubleshoot and diagnose. Leet whipped up a device from scratch, and he named it his “Network Fault Interrogator.” I didn’t have the faintest idea how it worked, and he zealously kept Kid Win and Colin away from it whenever he cracked it open to work on it. All I knew was that it made a lot of noise, it made Colin nervous, and there was a non-zero chance it could explode when used.

  It hadn’t, though, and had been correct more times than it had been wrong.

  Kid Win and Colin had gutted one of the large industrial generators I’d flown in from Boston and did… tinker things to it. Dragon had assisted. All I knew now was that it produced an enormous amount of power and didn’t run on hydrocarbon fuels. The generator was heavy as fuck when I brought it over for them to work on, and then when I had to transport it up to the roof–because it was way over the cargo elevator’s weight and size limits–I’d had to break out Mega Blue with the eight wings.

  Mega Blue, what I was now calling the form variation my power had cooked up to fight Leviathan, didn’t come out often. If the original Apex had been some kind of really nice sports car you could buy, then the new Apex was like a race car, or something. Leaner, meaner, faster, stronger. More of everything, but with hard edges and no concessions for comfort or luxury.

  Original Apex had been… extremely difficult to acclimate to. I did, but I did because I had to and not because I wanted to. But being held under the surface, lungs burning, arms and legs thrashing and flailing had changed me. What Jessica would probably call exposure therapy had forced me to adapt, to change, to reconsider, and reassess. And when I did, and gave things an honest shot, I’d come to appreciate it. It had the things I wanted, even the things I didn’t know I wanted, or didn’t think I wanted.

  Then new Apex had come along and smashed right through the wall unannounced. Even bigger when size was problematic. Far heavier when weight was an ongoing issue. New Apex threw aside the little remaining humanity, tossing my almost-Morgan face over a shoulder and leaving it behind. Alien. Strange. Creepy. Scary. Unnerving.

  I’d been new Apex for three weeks. And… I loved it. I loved myself. I cracked ironic jokes about my appearance to haters, but at some point I realized… I wasn’t joking. I actually did like the way I looked. This body had taken a thousand-pound concrete barricade to the face and shrugged. I fucked with and played cat-and-mouse games with capes who would have trashed Phoenix Strike . It was raw substance over style.

  New Apex took original Apex and turned all the dials up to 11. Mega Blue was different. Not an evolution of the race car, but a different type of vehicle entirely. Mega Blue was industrial equipment. A bulldozer, maybe. Still mobile, but far slower. Still flight-capable, but a cargo plane instead of a jet. I’d fist-fought and wrestled an Endbringer. Not once or twice, but over and over again. Shrugging off blows that pulped other capes. But the costs were steep, high enough that it didn’t warrant consideration outside very extreme or specific circumstances. Like lifting thirty or forty thousand pounds of tinker-generator more than thirty stories.

  I lay down on the landing pad, eyes sweeping over everyone present. “Express flight to the Station, now boarding, final call,” I announced to the entire rooftop.

  Menja cracked her neck, strode over to my side, and proceeded to mount me with a vaulting jump and flip of her legs. Like she was a warrior princess and I was some kind of grossly overgrown warhorse. I was having an increasingly difficult time trying to get rid of her. She invited herself along to both projects and patrols I went on. The constant holier-than-thou bitchy attitude remained ever-present, but she was working when she came along. I didn’t know what her deal was, but as long as she was making herself useful, I didn’t care about the rest.

  Tattletale unplugged a cable from the side of her laptop and clicked the lid closed. A big sticker with her eye motif from her costume was on the lid, front and center. It was a good design. Simple, but iconic. She stuffed her laptop into a satchel and hooked it over one shoulder. She paused on her way over to me and turned to Kid Win and Colin. She planted a hand on one hip, then blew the two a kiss with one of her trademarked shit-eating grins plastered on her face. “Toodles, nerds. Smell you later!” She slipped a hand down to the side of her satchel and pulled something small out, maybe a thumb drive. She tossed it underhanded at Colin, who caught it. “I think you dropped this earlier, Armsy-poo!”

  He didn’t say anything. I sincerely hoped that it wasn’t what I thought it was, which was a tracking device. Not everyone downstairs was overly happy with the BS armband situation. This wouldn’t work long-term if people kept fucking about with little games and sneaky shit. Almost as if she was confirming my unspoken suspicion, Lisa adjusted her extremely visible armband, then I helped her up to sit behind Taylor.

  Leet was pulling wiring harnesses out of his contraption and packing up his own laptop, stuffing both into a bulky backpack. He’d eyed the rooftop fire escape and the freight elevator doors several times. He clearly wasn’t keen on flying back, but whatever calculations he’d done seemed to have come down in favor of flying back rather than risking a trip through PRTHQ solo with only his armband to protect him.

  I didn’t like Leet. He was one of those outspoken internet misogynist trolls, both on- and offline. He’d been caught flat-footed twice now after making comments. Once by Lisa, and once by Taylor. Both of them with sharp tongues and sharper wits. He’d been keeping his opinions to himself since. As much as I didn’t like him and his “bro-bro,” Uber, they had come to the Station and asked nicely. They’d followed the rules. Word was getting out, both on the internet and via word-of-mouth on the streets, that the Chosen had stepped up to the Station and gotten bodied. They hadn’t said anything about that to us in their visits, but I assumed that they had likely reconsidered what, if any, schemes they had upon finding out.

  Lisa had been stopping in since our meeting in the park. Largely social calls, from what I could tell. Smarmy, smug, and the smirk might as well have been glued into place. There was friction between Amy, Victoria, and Lisa, but it was kept to taking catty verbal swipes at one another. Funnily enough, Lisa and Melody had hit it off pretty much right off the bat. I didn’t have a problem with Lisa. I didn’t trust Tattletale, but Lisa was alright. She and I had a growing repertoire of cracks and japes.

  I stuck Leet on the base of my tail and strapped him in. He grumbled under his breath about the seating arrangement, but there was a non-zero chance he’d say some shit sitting right next to Menja’s central spot and she’d wind up strangling him mid-flight. No thanks, we’ll take preventative measures on that one.

  Taylor glanced down at the back of my head when I didn’t get up. “Final call!” I called out once again.

  Colin and Kid Win shared a look. Or their helmets did, at least.

  Tinkers, I swear.

  “You are coming, right, Kid Win?” I crooned in one of those dangerously sweet tones.

  I’d been trying to get the Wards to come over so they could actually get away from their families, away from the ever-present, around-the-clock work. So they could cut loose and de-stress. So far, Vista and Flechette had come over. Flechette nearly daily, actually. Probably because she didn't have family or friends here in the Bay. Weld, Kid Win, and Clockblocker had been making excuses.

  I saw Chris shuffle over closer to Colin.

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  I directed my attention towards the two, picking their whispers out over the background hum of the generator.

  “Do you think I have to go?”

  “If you’re asking, I assume you don’t have a good reason not to. Have you been asked before?”

  “Yeah.”

  “More than once?”

  “Yeah, uh… three times.”

  “Difficult tactical position. She’s technically your boss’s boss. Social call, not a work function. What is making you not want to go?”

  “It’s just, I don’t know anyone over there, I’m more at home in my workshop, and… there are villains over there, too.”

  “Hm. I understand those concerns. I am probably not the correct person to be asking about this. Standby.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I would decline, but I am being told that is the incorrect decision, and that I am being a poor mentor at the moment.”

  “By who?”

  “Someone I trust who handles these situations better than I do.”

  “Guh, fine. I’m going. Keep an eye on the telemetry while I’m gone?”

  “I’ve already written a diagnostic and monitoring application for it, don’t worry.”

  “Yeah, make room!” Kid Win called out and trudged over after handing off his thermos to Colin. He wasn’t wearing his full tinkertech exosuit, just his helmet strapped underneath his chin with the rear attachment points exposed. I gave him a few tentacle loops to use as a ladder, then secured him over my hips and stood up.

  I did a quick stretch on all fours and waved to Colin. He did his typical stoic thing and dipped his helmet.

  I looked back at Kid Win. “So, Kid Win! First time riding the Apex Express, huh? Tell me, do you like roller coasters?”

  “Son of a bitch!” Lisa grabbed her satchel and hugged it to her chest for dear life.

  Leet was shaking his head back and forth rapidly, crossing his arms over his chest to grab the opposing backpack strap in each hand. He didn’t realize that I already had a tentacle securing his backpack and had already checked the straps and zippers. I was a considerate flight hostess like that.

  Chris spoke up over Lisa’s furious cursing under her breath. “Yeah, my family went to–”

  Taylor shook her arms out, leaving them loose and free.

  I compressed my upper arms and shoved off the helicopter pad, adding to it with a kick of my legs, and performed a very high arcing backflip up and off the edge of the building, head facing straight down from thirty stories up. We dove, and I flicked my wings out, doing a barrel roll so we were facing away from the building. The HQ building windows were partially mirror-coated, but the looks on people’s faces as a group of screaming people shot past their offices? Priceless.

  Also priceless? The way my wings allowed me to fly. I didn’t pull out of the dive or level off. I just took off in whatever three-dimensional direction I wished to go. Like right now, where we were facing straight down, five stories up, and flying horizontally through the air above the street. From my reference, I was just flying straight up. Easy as can be.

  Vectoring, bitch.

  I’d looked that up online.

  Vanessa belted out some tribalistic she-warrior battle cry at the top of her lungs as I performed a few more mind-fuckery tricks on my captive audience. Then I flipped us around to a more traditional orientation and flew us straight back up and over the top of PRTHQ and into the city’s open airspace. I watched Colin tracking us as we rocketed past the roof of the building.

  My passengers enjoyed themselves on the flight over. For the most part. You have to blow off a little stress every now and again, right? Lisa liked to swear and complain, but I’d caught her grinning on more than one occasion. She wasn’t fooling me. Vanessa had hold of one tentacle and had been tugging on it like I was a horse or something. Chris had hit some respectably high notes initially, but fell right in and was leaning and swaying along to bobs and weaves on the way over.

  And I had fun. Between fucking with my passengers and the simple joy that was flight itself. It was late Thursday afternoon, and the weather was honestly fantastic at the moment. Most of the city didn’t look too bad from up here. Brockton Bay had a Venice vibe from the sky; the flooded streets looked like rivers from above. I was taking more advantage of my multitasking abilities as each day passed. While flying over and doing some simple joyride sorts of maneuvers, I was holding a conversation with Taylor and Lisa, pointing out different projects that were currently underway.

  I was also texting in my hair.

  Me: Going to assume that was you being the voice of reason a few minutes ago. Thanks for that. I’d force C to come as well, but the ankle jewelry sitch still isn’t resolved.

  Big D in the C: It was. And yes, it’s probably good not to push too many boundaries at the same time. C isn’t happy, but he isn’t suffering, either. Doing what I can to help him out with that.

  Me: I know he isn’t. What he did was fucked. On a P. note, I hope he’s aware of just how fortunate he is to be where he is right now and not, say, in other places.

  Me: I know he’s sorta splattered on the ground floor and floundering/wallowing, but I think that’s probably a good thing. Him eating an entire humble pie while he’s there P. good for him. I know it was for me.

  Big D in the C: It was. You know I’m strongly opinionated about Villain and prisoners’ rights. Nobody deserves what happened to those people. And while we’re not exactly in alignment with one another on everything regarding C, I think you’re right about the pie.

  Big D in the C: Having had a chance to distance himself from the event, and the benefit of hindsight, he’s remorseful. He’s changed, and still changing. I’m talking with him constantly because I want to see that change going in the right direction.

  Me: Same. Frowning faces inside the tower about me spending time with him, but ISO has never fixed any problem, ever. Some are miffed about me pulling him from ‘his space’ to work on projects. It’s good for him & we desp. Need AHOD.

  Me: I don’t tolerate ignorance from people more concerned about preening & pecking order shit. This is a disaster & I got 50 things cooking. I wanna hear about issues, but don’t waste my time w/ dumb shit, you know?

  Big D in the C: I know, and agree. Just reminding: Honey & Vinegar. You know all this, not harping. You’re doing well from what I can see, but be careful spending social dollars, and when touching hot-button issues, like C.

  Me: I am, and thanks. I try and pick and choose my fights and keep it narrow-focus. That reminds me, need to talk to you on some personal s, and want to set up a vid call or remote, or something w/ you. Adall has cooked up something I think will interest you, and maybe you have some ideas. Techy project, but more squishy parts. Fig. might be up your alley.

  Big D in the C: The line has not changed, and will -always- be open for you. Let’s talk soon!

  While I was doing that, I shot off a few other messages.

  One to Faultline to catch up with her in a not-strictly-business manner.

  Another to Colin.

  Me: Do you know how painful it is to me to watch you try and navigate social situations?

  Corn Wall: ?

  Me: You, Mr. “difficult tactical position”

  Corn Wall: It’s not polite to eavesdrop.

  Me: I know you’re not about to try and sell me on your helmet not having audio amps, editors, and filters for that exact purpose.

  Corn Wall: It’s one thing to have them for work, another to use them on allies.

  Me: I also know you’re not about to tell me you’ve never used them for that, either.

  Corn Wall: I didn’t say that. I said it wasn’t polite.

  Me: I’m mostly screwing w/ you right now. Thanks for giving him a nudge, even if you did have to be told to by a 3rd party.

  Corn Wall: I know you are, it’s fine. And I was only honest with him.

  Me: He needs it. I’d make him if it wouldn’t defeat the purpose. Need to get the rest of the holdouts, too.

  Corn Wall: That’s your personal opinion.

  Me: No, C, it isn’t. It’s a plain old fact. We got different styles and approaches. I recognize how you operate, but you’re super wrong about 1 big thing.

  Corn Wall: And that is?

  Me: Morale isn’t a 2, 3, or 4th-order issue. It’s a first-order issue. Morale rn is like -999. Can’t fix the place being a rotting dump, can’t fix schedules being fucked. Can fix Morale. Fix that, lessen impact of rest.

  The writing symbol came up, went away. Came up, went away. Repeated several more times. Finally, my phone vibrated in my grip.

  Corn Wall: Might be right about that. I’ll think about it more, and we can discuss more later.

  Me: You should, for realllllll. Also hope you realize when your sitch gets resolved, you’re not exempted, he he he!!!

  Corn Wall: We’ll see about that.

  Me: Don’t make me beat you up to do it. I 100% will.

  I circled around the blocks surrounding the station from high up, taking a close look at things. It was a habit I’d forced myself to develop. Not letting myself get tunnel vision on departure and arrival. Foot traffic on the streets was at a moderate level. The water was an honest to god serious health risk to anyone with open wounds that might be exposed to it, and wading through even a few inches of water was dramatically more tiring than just strolling down the street.

  The weather was nice, though, and people were tired of being cooped up, so I saw more people out on rooftops or traversing makeshift walkways between roofs than on the streets.

  One of the big projects we had going on right now was a project to find the areas of the city where the storm drains were pulled out of the streets, then locate the nearest intact water drainage areas. From there, we had to either try and breach where the tunnels had collapsed to get drainage going, locate where the next point of failure was down the line, or try and remove any dams that formed.

  Simple in theory, exceptionally dangerous in execution. Even though most of the city only had between half a foot to a foot of water, the stored energy of that dam system was terrifying. We had to get people posted near any storm drain access points or the drains themselves, and make damn sure nobody approached them. You might see a little eddy or bubbling coming from the drain at the surface, but the drains could suck an entire person through a space the width of your hand.

  You’d never be found, even if you managed to survive the violence of getting sucked into the underground channels. There one second, gone the next without a trace. Rescue? Impossible. The handful of civic engineers we had available to explain this stuff to us in briefings were super clear. Mr. Bernoulli and his principles didn’t give a shit if you were a parahuman or not. If you needed air and an intact, functional body, you were at risk.

  So that project was being taken very slowly, very carefully, and very methodically. There were a handful of locations in the city where drainage had been restored and was operating around the clock. Water was flowing and draining. And in those areas, it was flowing quite well. But the estimates were that there was between eight and twelve billion gallons of mixed seawater that needed to be drained. That was… an astonishingly big number.

  One step at a time. We’d get there. Each additional outlet we got running was a bump in the overall rate, and removing days, weeks, or months off the giant red X on the calendar all the project managers were looking at. The date at which the water level was low enough to safely access the subterranean infrastructure of the city to begin the process of gutting, replacing, and restoring it.

  I dropped us down on the street outside the gate with a light thump and jostle, and the gate was already open. I took my passengers into the courtyard and dropped to my belly next to one of the large platforms so they could hop down while keeping dry.

  Lisa was the first off, shaking herself loose and groaning loudly.

  Taylor leaned forward while the others worked their way off. “Are you going to change? Do you want me to grab your stuff from your room?”

  I rocked my head from side to side while mulling it over. “Mm, yeah, sure. Thanks, Tee.”

  “The usual?” She asked, and I bobbed my head.

  While she climbed down and headed up to my room to grab some clothing for me, I was left with Chris. The rest had either headed inside, left, or otherwise gone about their business.

  Chris was just sort of standing next to me, looking extremely out of place and awkward. He was still looking around the inside of the walls. It was a fairly bustling hub of activity, especially in the mornings and evenings when the weather was nice.

  He looked over at me as I stood back up.

  He’s lost. I’ll see if he wants a little structure to get himself started and make some introductions.

  “Hey, so I’m going to go get changed and dressed real quick. If you want to wait for me, just follow the platforms to the main entrance. I’ll be down in a few minutes, yeah?”

  He nodded without saying anything else and headed over to where I indicated. I walked around to the side of the station and hopped up to the roof of the engine bay. It was weird to consider that I’d hopped up on top of a roof that was twenty-five feet off the ground. Like a dog jumping on top of a sofa. I walked over to the side of the station by the helipad access and kneeled with my upper body erect, then started my change.

  I reached up to my hair and pulled out my phones as I was shrinking down, setting them on the rooftop next to my shin. I was rushing things a little, but I’d mostly gotten used to the pain, discomfort, and soundtrack at this point. Shocking scenes stop being shocking well before you’ve seen them a hundred times. The door opened while I was blind, and Taylor tossed an oversized beach towel over my shoulders. I personally wasn’t super concerned about it, and I should be mostly out of sight for everyone else, but it was still a nice gesture.

  When my change was done, I slipped on my usual fare. Taylor had grabbed a pair of dolphin shorts and a BS tank for me, along with the rest of the accoutrements. I stood up and stretched, then grinned at her. She was back to her mask-off, glasses-wearing self.

  She takes her disguise off, while I put mine on. Ironic.

  “Miss the days when it was just the two of us strolling around inside, in various stages of undress, asses hanging out without a care in the world?”

  She snorted. “You were the one with the ‘ass out,’ I always wore at least my underwear. And it wasn’t a long-lost age, it was three weeks ago.”

  I shrugged at her, teeth still bared. “Can’t help the fact they don’t make shape-shifting clothing for us plus-plus-plus sized ladies. Besides, I didn’t hear any complaints!”

  She snickered at the clothing crack, then lightly socked me in the shoulder. I ran my hand through my hair, shaking it out.

  “Alright, I’m going to go save Chris before he flees or has a social anxiety panic attack, or something.”

  She opened the door, dropping the volume of her voice as she stepped into the stairwell. “Why’d you make a thing about him coming? He seemed like he didn’t really want to come.”

  I looked over at her and rolled my eyes. “You know why I did, you tell me.”

  She wrinkled her nose and sighed. “The stress is getting to everyone.”

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at her, and we finished our journey down one flight of stairs and popped out into the main hallway.

  “Winster!” I waved at Chris, who was down the hall, and he turned as we approached.

  “You…” he addressed me, his face still partially obscured by his Kid Win helmet. “You built all of this? While everything else has been going on?”

  I whipped an older movie quote out of my arsenal. “Buddy, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I drawled, then proceeded to blast him with a finger-pistol from the hip. He slapped a hand to his chest, then laughed.

  Better. Getting there.

  “So, you've got a real hard decision to make. And I’m mostly joking, but for real, you do have a decision to make.”

  “What’s that?” he asked me.

  I licked my lips and smiled. “The one that breaks the brain of every cape we have over here, guest or resident. Mask on, or mask off?”

  He held his hands up, palms out, trying to placate me, or something.

  “Whoa, whoa, that’s against PRT policy, and you’re technicall–”

  I held my own hand up and shook my head. He stopped talking. “This isn’t the PRT, and I’m not your boss right now. I’m just Morgan. You don’t have to take it off if you’re not comfortable, but honestly? Nobody gives a shit. People are either too busy doing important things, or they’re in the same boat as you, and are trying to put–” I gestured at his helmet. “...All of that aside, to relax in this place we’ve built. You read our rules on the flyer I gave you last week, right?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, check things at the door or take it outside, no judgement zone, that kind of thing.”

  “Bingo! You’ll see other people with their masks off, maybe you recognize them, maybe not. Some people from both sides come and go entirely civvy, and nobody is the wiser.”

  “Except for Faultline’s Crew,” Taylor corrected me.

  I nodded, and Chris hesitated. I could tell he was thinking it over. He looked around.

  I pointed to a door on the wall behind him. “We have a coat room in there with some lockers, if you want. You can stick whatever you want in there. Locks are left inside the doors with a plastic tag with the combo, if you want to lock anything up. Really don’t need to, but it’s there for your own peace of mind, if you want it. Just take the tag off the shackle and stick it in your pocket before you lock it.”

  Dressed down Kid Win stepped into the locker-slash-coat room. A minute later, Chris stepped out, finger-combing his auburn hair.

  I elbowed Taylor as he strolled over and asked her, “Hey, did you hear Kid Win is visiting?”

  She shook her head and replied, “Nope. Heard he left earlier, right after he arrived. Something came up.”

  “So, Chris! What do you want to check out first? We got wicked tech and gadgets kicking around that’ll make your brain explode. We got bomb-ass food up on two, along with a whole host of entertainment stuff. There’s a Vee two tournament kicking off tonight, and the shit talk has been real. Could get some practice matches in if you want to try your hand at competing.”

  He looked taken aback. “What, you are actually doing that? I thought that was a gag.”

  “Oh, no, that is 100% real.” I pulled out my phone to look at the time. “We’re supposed to have some additional surprise guests come over, basically any time now, to fill out the brackets.” I glanced over at Taylor.

  “I just checked with Lisa, she said there haven’t been any call-outs.”

  I beckoned Chris closer with my index finger. He leaned in, and I did as well to whisper in his ear: “Be a good opportunity to get some long-overdue revenge for the bank incident, don’t you think?”

  Chris jerked his head back, his eyes wide. “You’re kidding me, right!?”

  I couldn’t tell if that was fear, excitement, loathing, anger, or some mix of everything with sprinkles on top.

  “Nope. The Undersiders are stopping over tonight to hang! Some of Faultline’s Crew is upstairs right now, actually.”

  “Now I know you’re fucking with me,” he replied quickly.

  “Well, come on then. I think we have our answer.” I motioned him to follow, and Taylor tagged along as well. The three of us headed up to the dorms on two.

  The lounge area now had an absurdly huge screen setup on one wall with a high-end projector wired up to no less than half a dozen different entertainment devices. A random assortment of folding chairs, office chairs, couches, and loveseats was assembled in front of the projector screen. Movie nights were a several-days-a-week event. There were plenty of other displays in the private rooms and in other spots around the lounge, too.

  “Be right back,” Taylor whispered to me, and I nodded to her as Chris stood and gaped.

  “That’s an Ultra-Rez gen six projector!” Chris gushed. He looked over at me, eyes wide.

  I smirked a little. “So I’m told, yeah.” I knew damn well what it was. I’d bought it.

  “Aren’t those like, fifteen grand!? What, how do you have one just chilling in here?”

  My smirk grew in depth. “How do you think? I contacted some people and had it tossed into one of our supply run orders from Boston. Then I flew it here, took it out of the box, and plugged it in.”

  Bewilderment, confusion, and maybe a touch of annoyance or jealousy crossed his face as he tried to figure out what he was feeling in real time. “Why?” is what he asked at the end.

  I threw my arm over his shoulder and leaned in close to him. He stiffened some, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he was jumpy with the casual grab, or the fact that my boob was pressing into his arm. I dropped my voice for just the two of us.

  “Chris, this is a special place. Beyond all the stuff we’re experimenting with on the social and political levels. Everybody who lives here gives a shit about this place. It leaves an impression on people, and even most of our guests wind up following along. We’ve got all sorts here, and everyone in this city is hauling baggage. I’m not made of money, but for something that’s going to entertain and provide needed distraction for people every single day? I don’t care what it costs. It’s worth it.”

  He nodded a little, I let him go, and we walked over to one of the couches. Amy and Lisa were duking it out against each other at the moment. Both were awful at the game, but it didn’t matter. The stream of unfiltered potty mouth that the two were slinging at each other from opposite ends of the couch while furiously abusing a pair of handheld controllers would have made members of the DWU blush.

  But they’re sitting on the same couch together. Playing a video game against each other. That itself is a victory in my book.

  “I still…” Chris took a breath and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m still not sure I get how this works here. I’m having a hard time… you know, putting things aside, I guess.”

  His face tracked Newter as he walked out of the kitchen with a paper plate and a nearly-demolished slice of pepperoni pizza folded in half. Wearing his usual getup of comfortable, baggy pants, no shoes, and no shirt. Newter stopped next to me while gnawing on a chunk of crust, with Chris on my other side.

  Newter gulped his piece of crust and licked some flour from the crust off his lips with his prehensile tongue. “Sup, Big Blue? Thought you were gonna skip out on us with how late it was getting.”

  I huffed. “You know what they say, sixth attempt is the charm. We got it, though, and nobody died or was wounded, as far as I know.”

  “Dang,” he bobbed his head, his loud blue hair bouncing. “It work out, though?”

  “Yeah, thank fuck. Thirty towers and high-rises all juiced up. Couple fires, couple blowouts, but limited and handled. We’ll be able to spread the power from the lower floors of the towers as needed to surrounding buildings and businesses.”

  “Sweet. Who’s your plus one? Don’t think I’ve seen him around here, he cool?”

  I grinned at Newter. “Oh yeah, Chris is cool.” I leaned over and stage whispered, “Bit of a nerd, though, so watch out!”

  “Psh!” He looked over to Chris, and I did as well. “Sup, dude? I’m Newter. Big blue says you’re cool, so you’re cool in my book. You play?”

  Chris just went “Uh-uh…uhhhh…”

  “I’d offer to shake your hand, man, but I sorta got this whole ‘knockout with a touch’ vibe going on, you know? No contact, and all that.”

  “Y-yeah. Yeah! I do play. Pretty rusty, you know, with the whole power being out at home thing,” Chris popped out of his malfunction loop.

  My phone rang. I glanced at it, then answered. “Yep. Yep. We’re expecting them, all good. Appreciate it. Later.” I hung up and stuffed it back in my shorts.

  Newter pointed at one of the smaller displays, and the two walked off.

  You’ll figure it out, Chris. You got this.

  Chris got the game console started up and grabbed a controller for himself. Newter stuffed the last of his crust into his face, dumped his plate in a waste bin, then hopped up next to the display Chris was sitting in front of. And by hopped up, I mean he casually hopped up and against the painted cinderblock wall, where his bare back thumped and stuck like glue. Tossing one leg over the other like he was lounging on a bed and not the wall, Newter looked over at Chris.

  “Aw, crap. Forgot my controller. Mind passing it over? Orange paint stripe with the wrist strap, make sure you hold the strap.”

  Chris was blinking rapidly and nodding. He grabbed the controller by the strap and handed it over to Newter.

  “Thanks, dude. Should be safe either way, it’s had plenty of time to dry out, but better safe than sorry, you know?”

  Amy managed to eke out a win against Lisa with a mix of cheesy spam attacks and a few well-timed ducks on the big screen. A cutscene started, and The Siberian flipped onto the screen, hopping over and grabbing Lisa’s last character, Blasto. She proceeded to lift him up over her head with both hands, then dropped him down on her knee, snapping him in half with giant sprays of blood going everywhere.

  Lisa was staring at the scene, slack-jawed. “They have The Slaughterhouse 9 in this game!?”

  Amy scratched her cheek with one hand and shrugged her free shoulder. “I have no idea, I was just pushing buttons and trying not to get hit by gas bombs the whole time.”

  Lisa sighed loudly. “That will teach me for playing Bad Apple and Blasto, I guess.”

  “Actually, that combination is considered a top-tier pick on this patch version. The synergy bonus is insane.” Leet had wandered in at some point and had been watching the tail end of the match.

  Lisa looked over her shoulder at him and squinted. “I mean uh, yeah, there’s that, but they’re a duo that requires a lot of tech know-how in the game. A lot of reliance on combo moves. Hard to get good at when you’re uh… just learning.”

  She smirked at him and turned back around to face Amy.

  I cleared my throat and addressed the two from behind the sofa. “Don’t forget your Gee Gees,” I teased them.

  Amy looked confused. “Glory Girl?”

  Lisa huffed. “Yes, yes, Mom,” she directed my way, then turned to Amy. “Good game.”

  Amy blinked. “Oh! Yeah! Good game,” she said to Lisa, then glanced back at me. “That’s what they call it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It’s a culture thing, and etiquette, too. Sort of a nice reminder that it’s just a game, and everyone’s there to have fun. Win or lose.”

  “Usually, stream chat will blow up with GG’s at the end of a match, too,” Leet added.

  I went to respond, but Brian walked in from the staircase and looked around. I threw him a big wave, and several others, presumably his team, followed along behind. Regent was easy to spot, and behind him was Brian’s sister. I hadn’t had the chance to meet her, but I’d heard about her from both Taylor and Brian himself, when we’d still been talking regularly.

  I wanted to say her name was Ashley. The girl certainly looked like she was related to Brian, if a bit of a mirror image. Brian was very classically handsome, with clear skin, a strong jawline, lofty height, powerful shoulders, and a V-shaped physique. Ashley was maybe a couple years younger, maybe a sophomore by my estimation, but already had many telltale signs she’d be as good looking as her brother. The same high cheekbones and clear skin, the same pouty lips. Where he had his V, she had quite the hourglass. Her clothing was…of debatable fashion. Not that I could really talk, I liked loud colors too, but usually not that much neon and black.

  I was really surprised to see Bitch wander through the doorway in the rear. She was scowling and looking around the place, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. I waved at her, too, and she turned to direct her scowl at me. I couldn’t help myself, I broke into a huge grin at her when I saw she had a glittering metal pendant around her neck shaped like the number nine. She was wearing typical Bitchwear, which was either the same thing she always wore, her costume, or both. A wrong-sized plain teeshirt, a big jacket, dirty jeans, and work boots.

  “Hey!” I called out, heading over to the four, no five people. The newest of the bunch was very elusive in attaching a gender label to. Tall and limber. Androgynous, certainly, very stylish, and really quite attractive looking. Black hair shaved high on one side to the bare skin, and shaved above the ear on the other side. Spiky with product in the bangs and tousled up top, and then thick and flowing in the rear, where it was gathered into a single low pony. Hazel eyes, thin eyebrows, and long lashes. They had suitably punky makeup applied, with thick kohl eyeliner that made their multi-hued eyes pop. Their lips were wide and full, with a rich matte plum lipstick.

  Their clothing choices logically followed and built upon their image. They had a very short, flowing tunic dress on with a daring neckline exposing their collarbones, a lack of cleavage, and lithe arms. The dress barely reached crotch level, and they had a pair of ripped and shredded black cutoff jean shorts that were also absurdly short. They had a number of exposed tattoos of varying design and style. I thought the Japanese-style drama and comedy oni masks on their upper arm were a really nice design.

  They caught me checking them out and lowered their eyelids with a coy grin. I winked at them, my own grin still very much in place.

  Brian stepped forward and held his hand out, and I clapped mine into it and shook it firmly. “Brian! About time you dragged your lazy ass out of bed and came over here!” I snickered loudly.

  “Oh yeah, you know me. Just sitting around, nothing to do.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but it was a warm tone.

  “I swung past your workplace right after shit hit the fan. Saw it was just totally wiped off the map, minus a few old machines that were too stubborn to be ripped out of the floor. You and your friends situated? Got your basics covered?” I glanced over the people behind him for effect before looking back up into his eyes.

  He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. We got our bases covered and needs met. Can’t complain too much, we have it better than most, but not quite as good as you have it over here.” He gestured around the dormitory lounge, the huge kitchen and dining room, and the hallway heading to the private quarters.

  “You need anything, B, you let me know, alright? We’ll work something out. You've been picking up supplies from our mutual friend? Food, hydration, and the rest?”

  He smiled and dipped his head. “Yeah. We have some supply line contacts of our own, but yeah, we have been hitting both. Making sure they’re getting out and aren’t causing problems in the process in our neighborhoods.”

  Your fiefdoms, you mean. The PRT is well aware of what's going on there. But better you than some of the other usual suspects. I at least trust your group to not be total psychos or abusing the shit out of people. But this isn't the time or place for that talk. That's still scheduled for another day.

  He gave my hand another shake, then turned to face his friends. “Morgan, a few introductions. You know Alec and Rachel,” he pointed at Regent and Bitch respectively. I smiled and waved at each. Alec was trying to do his disinterested thing, but I could see his eyes darting around. Rachel was locked into her RBF.

  “This is Aisha, my sister.”

  Damn it, Aisha, not Ashley.

  I extended my hand to her. She looked me up and down, rolled her eyes, and gave a cursory hand shake.

  “This is Jamie, I hope you don’t mind that I invited them along, they were interested in coming with.” Brian said from my side.

  “Just as long as everyone is on the same page with our house rules!” I exclaimed, then turned to Jamie.

  I stuck my hand out to them, and they shocked me by sweeping one leg forward, bending at the waist, and lifting my hand up to their lips. They kissed the back like a courtier.

  Brian laughed at the move, and I fanned my face with my hand like a proper belle. Never accuse me of not being in on a good bit.

  “Oh my,” I mock-huffed. “Such etiquette and manners, it’s making me faint!”

  Jamie lifted their head from my hand and shamelessly displayed a rakish smirk. Their voice carried a mid vocal pitch, as equally nonindicative of their gender as the rest of their appearance. “I was told you’re the Queen of this castle, and it’s only proper I show my due respects.”

  I snickered loudly and glanced down at the Edge of Eternity tattoo on their inner forearm. “Oh, shit. I love E of E! Forever Slaying was the best metal album of ‘09, bar none. Maybe the entire decade.”

  My attention was on Jamie as they went to respond, when Rachel suddenly let out a growl followed by a hoarse scream.

  There was a meaty whack followed by a crunch. I jerked my head to the side to see Taylor without her glasses on, her nose totally out of shape, and blood sprayed all over her lower face. Her face was twisted into a look of pure rage directed at Rachel.

  “OH SHIT!” Newter howled from behind, presumably still lying on the wall. “CAT FIGHT!”

  A single second of silence followed the shout, and then I heard half a dozen sounds simultaneously. Two doors slamming open from the dorms. The electrical buzz of either one of Laserdream’s lasers or one of Brandish’s energy weapons. Another buzz, this time insectile. Game controllers clattering to the floor. Something being pulled from a holster, knives and blades rasping on sheathes, and a beep followed by a whine.

  Aw fuck.