"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some wings were broken, others still lacked legs. Still others, many from just above, below and around the shoulders, bare arms and legs, nipples hard and hard against the fabric of their costumes.

Butterflies circled the masses, and the butterflies that had been concentrated on each mass moved in sync. They broke contact with the kids, and the butterflies that had been pressing them down abandoned the effort to find a patch of shade. They settled on the butterflies that were closest to them, and they gathered around each of them, circling and rubbing against them.

I waited for the butterflies to cease.

Not always, not immediately. There had been a lull in the fighting as of late.

"There!" I called out. I could hear a scratching at the door.

The kids started to struggle to get free, but Principal Howell had snapped the metal shut of the little courthouse. The handcuffs had sprung.

Five or six students ran free, and then someone pushed the door closed, wet the shoes of one of the roaming teens. They hurried out.

I waited, staring down at the courtroom.

The butterflies continued their steady approach.

It was the sheriff. He was here, at the doors, carrying a sheriff’s badge. He stood beside Miss Militia. The two of them were friendly, but they didn’t look like the sort of students that would hang out with each other. They were in civilian clothes, but I couldn’t help but see the sheriff and Miss Militia as the socially awkward sort at the center of a group that was desperately shy.

At the center of it all, I thought, was the sheriff. He was an old man, in his mid-fifties, with a trim beard and a peculiarly narrow, well-defined waist. He was leaning back against a heavily padded office chair with a laptop tucked under one arm.

Most sheriff’s offices didn’t last more than three years. The one I was in was in pristine condition, running on an Oracle database that had been meticulously maintained. The sheriff’s SUV sat in an open field on the outskirts of town, with a large print-laden bulletin board in one corner.

The sheriff was anchored in place by a stone, and he didn’t look like he was going to take much of an election to get back on the case. He had an ankh-style crown with a golden helmet on a pedestal, his hair in a dreads style. He had a degree of uniformity to his body: a white shirt, jeans, boots.



"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

As I made my way to the nearest patch of greenery, I could feel the crowd reacting. Frictionlessly.

"Five for Bambina, four for Weaver!"

"Three for Tecton!"

"Two for Wanton!"

"One for Annex!"

"The one you go to if you want to participate!"

The kids who had been on their feet before me were now huffing out breaths.

"Andrea, you stand if I’m up here!" I said.

Your daddy’s watching.

I waited until the bugs moved outside of my power’s range, then pressed Tecton’s lightsaber against the edge of the walkway. The darkness was already forming.

"Can you do it again?" I asked.

"I can’t. I don’t trust myself," she said. "I thought I’d die."

"Do it anyways," I said.

"I don’t trust myself either. I’m trying to be nice. The last thing I want is to discourage you."

"I know. I won’t."

I stared down at the hardened armored lizard. Its head was angled at a right angle, so it would be harder to see the lenses. The lizard had a dull pink exterior. Mechanically repaired.

"You’re- you’re still Andrea, aren’t you?"

"That’s me."

"You’re- you’re still Andrea, right?" The words came less out of my mouth than down through the gaps in my choke chain.

"Yeah," she said. "I’m still her."

A long moment passed.

"Hey," I said.

"What?"

"I’m… I’m not myself anymore."

"Become who they pushed you to become."

"I’m who I was."

"Who was she before?"

She shrugged. "Before anybody forced me to change. It’s like, anyone who forced me to hate myself, anyone who made me want to be a bad person, make me hate myself, make me do bad things."

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Yeah," Andrea answered.

I didn’t like the idea that she’d become like that.

"I could hit myself," she said. "Give myself a fucking


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. One by one, I banished the bugs. The crowd backed away, and I gathered them back under my command. I used the mass of people to throw my swarm out into the crowd.

"A shame they’re so dense," Imp commented.

"Yeah," I said. "Ever notice how the D. has these massive, insectile bodies that spiral outward like a snake’s back?"

"Yeah," Imp said. "Definitely see how that one turns out."

I glanced at her. She was walking on the other side of us, completely unaware that anyone was around.

"That would be the D. It also happens to be one of the strongest morphs of the butterfly type. Popular choice for capes out there, but it takes some serious work to actually form. Unless you’re one of those people who likes to morph just after you enter the fight, in which case it’s only a matter of time before you take out a teammate, absorb another power or get rid of all the negative emotions that came with dealing with the Undersider."

"Morph?" I asked.

"Morph, in this case, means to revert something or someone. Usually it’s something negative, but there’s sometimes a person who takes on a negative connotation in a more negative way, and others who do negative things that carry over from one incarnation to the next. It’s not uncommon for two or three of these people to merge into one, and even for one or two to remain distinct from the other."

"And the other half?"

"Those that are good, the ones that do the bad things, they get left behind. Behemoth slaughtered ninety percent of the world’s population, only to get left behind, and Cuff is like that. The local heroes left him behind, and they never really got their shot at him."

"Only thing I know is that he emerged triumphant. So unless we can dig for answers, we’re likely to get another showdown like this."

"So what do we do?"

"I have three employees that I’m working on. The three most capable of handling the job, with supervision. You’ll have to let me know if anything changes. In the meantime," she offered me a devil’s smile, "I’m going to build some space in the factory that was left undefended. It’ll be tough, because I have to make sure everything’s protected, and I have to navigate the


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

Some clustered together, only ten or so or so kids, still. I didn’t envy them.

"There’s only five rounds!" I called out. "Eight! That’s the one you want! Whoever catches the most wins!"

I saw a look on their faces that I nearly missed. It was like they were looking to me for cues.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a chance of a tie if two people get unlucky. Go!"

Two people indeed. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach as I followed the rules-

The kids started running, then ducked into an adjacent clearing. I could hear the sound of falling furniture mingling with screams and shouts.

A moment later, it was just the two of us in the clearing.

"Tie, you’re first!" I called out.

Two people were tied up in the clearing. I turned to the boy from the church. "Who got the most butterflies?"

"Jesush," he said.

I smiled, watching him with an eye roll. Jesus, like Father, like Son?

"Next, Shatterbird," I said. "Who got the most spiders?"

Shatterbird looked surprised. I almost missed the subtlety in her tone.

"Brought you. You too, Grant Ward."

Ward turned around and walked over to where the other two were still pinned up.

"I can’t do anything until I know who these people are," I said. "Who are these people?"

"Arthropods."

"Arthropods," I said. "Might as well know before I start fighting."

I brought all the bugs in the clearing to me, the wood and the ground around me. I then let them die, sinking through the floor and into the cracks, where they swarmed Tattletale and the group of kids.

"So cute," Imp said, smiling. "How’d you get all those?"

"Arthropods. Someone gave me one. Bonesaw gave me one."

"Bonesaw?" Tattletale asked.

"I don’t know who. But they gave me one. I can’t control them. Can’t move them. So I had to find another way to move them."

"Carry them?" Imp asked.

I nodded. It meant I didn’t need to worry about them biting me or scratching me. I could feel the biting


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

I didn’t wait for them to run. I flew away, took butterfly bites with both hands.

It took some time to search for and find the person who had spoken to me. I had to search the school, walking through the perimeter with the security guards as I made my way to the door.

The voice continued…

"…And then they take you apart. That was their idea. They wanted to do a show, a competition. See who could turn in the most surplus hero boards, get the most glory and maybe even cash. Winners get to keep the prize. Losers pay less than they might think. But it’s still a cool way to spend a Friday night."

"…They didn’t know who they were picking to win the contest. Glory for the victor, money for the loser."

"…They didn’t know who they were picking to win the contest. They took someone with no costume, no powers, no weapon, no gadgets, no exotic materials, and they stripped him bare. Then they gave him a bunch of new powers, he picked the one that worked for him, and they blindfolded him. And he did all of this while wearing a new, identikit PRT-issue costume."

"They didn’t know who he was picking to win the contest. It didn’t sound like he would win. He mentioned being petrified, a concept I hadn’t really heard of. Apparently not wanting to lose to someone who could turn into a walking, talking, sentient, living portal."

"…They didn’t know who he was picking to win the contest. Apparently the only ones who have issues with that are probably the ones who sponsor the fights, because they were taking twenty or thirty fights a year, before cape-related costs began to eat up their entire annual budgets. The ones who didn’t fight the way the public was demanding were relegated to desk jobs and training. Probably the public realized that there was little value in continuing to fund the PRT, unless you were willing to spend months or years trying to beat them at their own game."

"They did know who he was picking to win the contest. And they fought back. We only need to look at what happened after the fact to know that. PRT broke down and splintered off from the Protectorate, completely independent of any one group or group of people. There were differences of opinion, but the majority of the membership stuck with the Protectorate. When tensions began to build again, the two largest groups of members (the Wards and Protectorate


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

"A prize?"

I stared down at the ground. "Three or four hundred dollars. If you can bring someone home, someone will come and watch over them. Let me know."

"Okay," Lisa said.

"Do it!"

"But," she said, "We’re going to need more. Three or four hundred dollars each, for supplies, furniture and all."

"Your employees will be happy to."

"If people are going to be upset, I’m upset. I’m not going to make a fuss, Lisa. I’m not going to have a word with my dad, or argue with my father, or go out to dinner, or any of that. I’m not going to."

She smiled, but I wasn’t sure I needed to see the smile to know she was smiling.

I reached out to grab her, to feel her flesh stretch out around my hand, to feel her skin crawl. I wanted to see the difference, the telltale sign of what it was doing.

I couldn’t, and I didn’t think I could’t.

"If people are upset," I said, "I’m more upset than you are."

There was a long pause.

"You’re the nice one, Taylor."

"I’m the only one who ever gave me a fucking hard time in middle school."

"The only person more compassionate than you are, is the person who is giving you the most therapy," I said. "You two get out of here. No fighting."

"We’re not- we’re not friends," she said. "At least, not really."

I could feel my blood run cold in the pit of my stomach. I almost wanted to hit her.

"I’m trying to make conversation," I said, turning around. "Anyone else out there? What’s your name?"

Lisa looked like someone who was on patrol at a downtown Chicago high school, surrounded by students. Her dark hair was in loose waves, and she wore a green tank top, cargo pants and black cargo shorts. Beneath the bright green tank top, she wore dark green canvas pants and a plaid skirt. Her skin was a dark coral, her ears pointed like you’d expect them to be at a ninety degree angle. I couldn’t really pin it down to a particular style of clothing. She could have been any of


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

Butterflies wove in around one another, around trees, out of reach and over heads, around people and piles of debris, over people and rooftops. I sensed one group moving to flank the others. I set bugs to moving them in an orderly manner, to get a sense of what was happening.

The butterflies wove in circles, through trees, under and over piles of foliage, passing between people and crowds.

I miscalculated? How many kids here hadn’t caught on just yet?

A D.T. officer, riding his bicycle, pulled me up beside him. He was wearing his full costume, jeans, boots and a white shirt without a tie, jeans without sleeves and a metal bicycle belt around his waist. His .357 Magnum was practically untouchable.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

I supposed I’d seen the reaction when I’d asked Alexandria to give my name. She’d made a face. I didn’t want to make one worse.

"Looks like we might be bumping into some bugs, there," the officer said. He was already off the bike.

I glanced over my shoulder, where the bugs were lurking. There were a few that glowed, a few that moved in the slightest direction, growing in as if they’d burst from the fabric of his decaying costume. He took a deep breath, then opened his mouth to speak at a volume my ear hadn’t heard in a long time. It didn’t matter.

"Chief Director?" I asked.

"Me."

"Nice to meet you," I said. I could have made it a question. I thought of how my controlling style rubbed people the wrong way.

"You’ve been dealing with weirdos like us for a few weeks, then you actually get to meet the Undersiders."

"Yeah," I said. I shifted my weight, felt the need to move, and leaped. The bugs were almost painfully quiet as they settled on me. I had to suppress a grunt to keep from making a sound. "So weird."

"Yeah. Exactly as you’d expect," he said. He hadn’t budged from his position.

"Me too," I replied. I timed my leap to see the incoming swarm, then leapt as hard as I could with my arms still held up, leaving my head and upper body dangling. I landed on the roof


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some stayed where they were, arms folded, others ran.

I waited, hanging back. The prize? It was hard to say. There were thirty or forty kids in total. One or two more would break out from the crowd on the far sides. There were still more people behind me, and they would get a chance to break out. I was forced to watch the fights from a distance, but I wasn’t sure it was worth it.

In the meantime, I had to manage the butterflies. I’d already been careful in how they had spread throughout the area, but I was still collecting them. I couldn’t leave them where they were, couldn’t breed them or raise them as a mass. I divided them into tens of thousands, then tens of thousands again, until there were hundreds or thousands.

I found a sturdy wooden chair and positioned the butterflies near the door. At present, they were being watched, and I was ready to move them when the teachers saw fit.

"Seems like you’re an early riser," the principal said.

"My siblings and I were last year’s Oscar nominees," I said. "We didn’t win, but we made it into an award. And you want me to dance? To read for an Oscar?"

"No. This is the second time you’ve flunked the tests. The first time was last year’s. You failed both times."

"What’s the test?"

"It’s called On Appreciation. It’s a quiz. The teacher has to assign a grade for each lesson, and you have to guess the assignments based on subject matter."

"I’ll pass," I said.

"If I haven’t already, you’re going to hell for eternity, okay?"

"I might have to, if I don’t think I can live up to it."

"Okay. But you’ve got to live up to it. Doesn’t matter."

"No," I said. I swallowed. "Maybe not now."

"I don’t see why you can’t."

I shook my head a little. "I guess… they didn’t say it outright, but I think I can live up to it, if I’m going to keep moving forward. The test isn’t easy, it’s not pretty, but it’s the only way to really


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

The swarm shifted again, drifting deeper into the crowd. Now that I knew we wouldn’t be able to do any great damage, a little help from the Protectorate. I could make some noise, get them involved. I could even kill Bambina, if it meant rounding up more willing participants.

It was a little insane, all of this, and I was probably losing – I had to be creative, find a way of carrying out the plan that didn’t involve violence.

The kids, though, seemed to be completely at ease. They were gnashing their teeth, backing away from me, eager for something.

I was finding that the people who were losing in my head weren’t the sort of people I needed to make friends with. It seemed they didn’t trust me because I was their friend.

It seemed they didn’t trust me because I was their friend. That was starting to change the moment I started making headway on getting them to my level.

Some of it was just me being in the right place at the right time.

I’m trying to do what’s right, in the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t care about these guys. I do. I have to.

But my gut told me that we’d lose this war if we made it ten years from now, when the Endbringers had been wiped out, the ABB wiped out, and nobody was really interested in fighting them.

I needed a weapon, and I needed to take this weapon and use it. This wasn’t helping me find the people I needed.

Someone stepped forward, approaching a group of kids who were standing on the sidelines. Lung.

"Who are these people?" I asked.

The kid said something in Chinese. I translated it as – tongue stuck out – "You’re with the White Fang, or you’re members of the Whitelaw."

A flush appeared across my cheeks as I realized who they were.

"The White Fang, or the New Wave?" I asked.

"The White Fang," the man they’d put on the helmet said. "We’ve tried calling them by their names, and they’ve refused to listen."

"The New Wave?"

"They’re owned by Foil," the man they’d put on the helmet said, "They’re her protectors. I wouldn


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some disappeared into the swarming masses of bugs.

"What’s with the butterflies?" I asked.

"They’re overreacting!"

I’d underestimated how fast and hard the butterflies would be able to move. I’d overestimated the difficulty of even the most resilient bugs.

"They should be," I said.

"They’re going to make it!"

I shook my head. "There’s no guarantee they’ll actually come out of the woodwork and work. Sometimes there’s complications, like the one at the school with the cybernetic leg, or there’s other stuff that we don’t know about. Or there’s other stuff like we didn’t know about at the house, or the stuff they found at the booby-traps."

"What do you know?"

"That the people in charge are planning something. Something high-level."

I raised my voice. "What are you planning?"

"We don’t know," the Director said.

Gosh darn it.

"Can you tell us?"

"I’d tell you, but that would probably be a cease-and-desist, in most cases. You can’t con us out of our jobs, and you can’t screw with the stuff we need."

"Oh, but we can," the Director said.

"There’s another reason you’re doing this," I said. "You think you’re being unfairly harsh on me, on your part, so you’ve pulled me off the team in the end."

"We’re punishing you."

I’d hoped the pain in my side would make me consider the others. I hadn’t wanted to push too hard, but the mere idea of it made me want to.

The pain in my side was making me want to throw up, just like that. I was sore all over, and it hadn’t just been me getting hit.

"You punished her because she chose to disobey the order? If that’s the case, then I think you’re fucking the most powerful woman in the world."

I shook my head. "We punished her because she chose to disobey the order, and that’s the same thing we’re going to do here. I think you’re the one under the most pressure, because


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. I watched the crowd as they moved back, retreating around a corner. A cluster of kids actually leaped over the crowd, while others threw objects at the swarm, catching on the surface, or kept their distance.

"Damn," one kid said.

"Damn," others echoed him.

I’d never experienced anything quite like the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of invigorated confidence.

But I was acting too calm, too calm despite the fact that I was probably going insane.

Rachel tackled me, pulling me to my feet.

"Get up!" she said.

I slumped.

"You’re going to need a hospital," she said.

"I will."

"OK. But really, your friend just informed us that you need a hospital."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really."

I turned to my leader. "We’re leaving tomorrow, maybe leave for home as well."

"We’ll come for you," she said.

I nodded.

For home, then. I glanced at Rachel. "Okay."

"Good. Do your best to keep up."

"I… can do that."

I looked at the kids. I’d said as much. I didn’t like the idea of dragging them all away, but I’d do what I could to help.

I felt a tug of hope.

■

If I had to sum it up in one word, it would be focus.

Focus on the present.

Meeting the kids. Getting to know them.

Meeting Armsmaster.

Being around him was surreal. He was more real than I’d thought. It was a… what did you call it? A collective memory. Everything he said, every action he orchestrated.

Dinah Alcott.

The Undersiders.

The Chicago Wards.

The Undersiders and Dinah.

The Undersiders and me.

Everything that followed after that. The plan, the means, the goal.

We didn’t talk.

We watched.

Some time passed.

A broken record rang out once again, the chime of the phone cutting out to nothing.

A message?

The chime meant the connection had been severed.

The phone was the last thing I saw before the last panel went dark.

Silence.

I was


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

It was only five or six. I wasn’t sure how many were on the fence, but several hundred people were throwing their butterflies and bugs into the air to get their chance to catch a prize.

I exhaled slowly. I might have been too proud, that I’d been able to attract so many outside of Winslow High. The fence, without question. I’d also be lying if I said it didn’t help.

"The prize?" Wren asked, as I passed over the edge of the grass.

"The swarms!" I called out. I could hear a clatter of boot heels on the grass behind and beneath me. "The prize."

I think the prize was the kind of small‐scale edge I got. It was elusive, and so elusive that I couldn’t necessarily get a foothold and make a run for it. That was fine. I could feel the butterflies as they made their way over my skin, following the path I’d carved out in the cloud. I’d started with a bird’s beak and evolved into a spider, then a moth, then a cockroach, before I came to a point where a cricket’s scream seemed to coincide with a drop of water.

I stepped away from the fence, looking down. The prize, still in the bag, was in the water.

I stayed where I was, letting the butterflies circle above my head, until I was tucked in. Then I turned, stretching my wings to move further.

It was fun. An excuse to be cranky, a chance to be creative. The pursuit of butterflies had been fun before.

In the past few days, I’d stopped worrying about what my power was and started using it. I’d stopped worrying about staying in one place, made a break for it. Now it was just butterflies.

And I’d had to make a break for it. I’d had a day to think, to look for the prizes, find time to think about what I needed to do to change things. I had to make a choice. Using my power had been fun, but it wasn’t quite enough. I had to tackle the problems head on.

Butterflies weren’t the only thing making their way across my skin. I was aware of the sounds of thunder tearing through the city, distant, distant enough that they barely seemed to register. I was acutely aware of the butterflies that littered the interior of my swarm, traveling over the floor, coming into contact with my


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

Butterflies wove in around one another, around the mass of kids. I was able to see some turning around, only to realize it was the one who’d caught the most.

Mrs. Yamada, who had apparently never seen a butterfly, put them together, lowering herself to watch the scene with her rubber rubber duck.

■

The horde of butterflies had wound around one building, breaking through the building faces that stood between us and the crowd. They were moving too fast to follow, but I could see their effects extend out into the surrounding area.

Through the swarm, I could sense the crowd, the surrounding walls, all glimmering in the light that escaped the closing portal.

Butterflies invaded the crowd, and they flowed through the portal without slowing or breaking through. There were more than fifty of them, from three different nations. I didn’t even have to think about it.

A record number of butterflies came through in one long stream, from one spot.

Everyone was bustling, shouting, cheering, pointing, taunting. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, even forty people were participating.

Chuckles, in his red costume with the gold chain and falcon’s head, led the charge. He carried a lance with a hunk of flesh still attached to it, and I could see how the flesh served to accentuate the lines of his ‘buttock’. His weight rested on the hilt of the lance, his entire upper body pressed against the ground, his chest heaving. The hilt of the weapon tapped against the ground beside him.

The cockiness of his look, the confidence, it made his look more imposing. Even the people who were hunting him with guns or dogs felt like they were being at the underdog.

Butterflies invaded the midst of the gathered crowd, and I could see chins and body language lashing in the face of the swarm, defiant, defiant in a way that was defiant in a way that chins. The butterflies were striking, brushing against the faces of everyone present.

Chins hardened and hardened, defiant and defiant in a way that was defiant and macho.

"This is my man," Chins said. "Remember me?"

Everybody nodded.

A moment later, he’d snapped, for the second time in as many minutes. He held a knife aloft, the blade paused only a few seconds, then flying. He held it placidly in front of his chest, the blade facing the sky.




"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

I waited.

There were no guarantees, was what I was saying. But if I could somehow turn this – turn this – then I’d have something. I’d found a way.

A way to make a real difference.

The television started rolling, going off silently every time one of the news shows brought it up. It was like the background noise of a city.

I drew a butterfly into the air, then ran it through a specialized contraption. I let it flap its wings, generating a steady amount of wind around it. It landed on a wing, the butterfly’s fin still fixed to it, and then set about burning the dangling fin.

When it was dry, it began generating strands of silk. I let it burn itself.

Much like my costume.

The TV showed footage of Undersiders battling the Slaughterhouse Nine, with their costumes practically glowing in the dark. I turned the butterfly into a skewer with three prongs, letting the tail end dangle. The tips stuck in the backs of some of the biggest creatures in the park.

"I could make one for you," I said, as the flames ate through the ends of the ‘fin’.

"I want to fly!" one of the kids shouted.

"I can help you find the fastest route!" I said.

He held up his hand, and I let the insect fall to the ground.

He picked up the thing from where it had fallen, and in that same motion, he whipped the thing to swing at me, knocking the two largest creatures on the ramp heads. The smaller ones scraped against the surface of the ramp, but failed to penetrate.

"There’s a prize!" he shouted.

"I don’t know what that is!" I said.

"The prize is real! It’s a ring! If I can beat Endbringers in costume, it’s a real prize! I don’t care if it’s a stuffed animal or a piece of art! If I win, I want to open a gallery of stuff by artists and designers around the world! I want to see what gets stuffed into it!"

"And money!"

"Money!"

He held up two fingers, "There’s also… a box!"

I found the flap that would have held the box, and read the contents.

A computer.

And a piece of art.

"What?" I asked.



"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. One by one, I phased them out.

Butterflies wove in around one another, around larger swarms, across the park. I sensed some looking at me, turning their heads.

I took a second, myself, to compose my thoughts.

Roucouler. One of the key elements of the plan. That was something to keep an eye on.

Not the dynamic I was hoping for. The butterflies would only phase out if I got a chance to talk to him, to get his trust, to arrange anything.

Maybe he would let them stay, if I gave him a chance. I couldn’t exactly tell.

But I could check the chickens. I could send the butterflies back, prune them.

The butterflies returned, and I fixed them in the air, poised over the park. I could send the order to the butterflies at the proper locations, and they would disperse the ones from the chirping in around the park.

Everything was in place.

The trick would be keeping the chirping.

I’d envisioned it, but I couldn’t quite place my own thoughts on it.

I watched the butterflies with my swarm-clone. I could see what they were doing, here. They were moving around the park in tight circles, with lots of loops and circles. I could see where the chirping was taking place, and I could sense the park through the subtle changes in the air.

This wasn’t exactly a peaceful, unhurried affair. The park was dangerously close to the edge of my range. I began having second thoughts about taking the leap.

The order to the butterflies, along with the general direction the butterflies were moving, forced me to take a shortcut.

The shortcut afforded me a glimpse of the chirping. It was slowing, getting more erratic.

I sensed the chirp of a butterfly’s wing as it flapped, the sound as it lifted off the water with a sudden, surprising velocity.

Yes. They’re reacting to the chirp.

I felt my power swell. I could feel the chirp spreading through my entire range.

I could imagine the chirping, picking up in intensity, the butterflies in the air, ready to start their maneuver, reacting to the chirp.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, but the distortions in the chirp were bad. It was making it harder to make out what they were saying.

It


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. One by one, I phased them out.

"I thought you wouldn’t want to gamble on this," Flechette said.

"The golden ticket!" I said. "If you can even call it a ticket! The ticket is worthless if you don’t have the ability to control when it expires!"

"It’s an unfair advantage!"

"Yeah!"

"But they’re free to disobey the terms if they don’t like what they get," Flechette said.

I didn’t have a response to that. She was intimidating, but she didn’t make me look better. I could hold my own, I was young, strong, and invincible.

In fact, that was probably the most dangerous quality of hers. If she said no, any confrontation could and would hurt me, tear me apart.

In the midst of the kids, a horde of roaches moved through the air, carrying a thin cup by the lid. I drew some butterflies from the cup, stapled them to the lid, and then hurled them into the mass of roaches.

"In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a strong whiff of melted chocolate," Flechette said, her voice quiet. "Chocolate melted, but not melted into chocolate. There’s more to it than that."

"So you’re saying you don’t have a choice," I said, as the swarm and my bugs reached the floor. I dabbed at the chubby little toddler who was crying, and I put a hand on his head. "You have to listen to me. You have to obey. Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?"

"Yup."

"But you have to follow through. You have to give up some control to your power, so it doesn’t run wild. Some roaches will be destroying your equipment, while others will be helping me aim the guns."

"Yup."

"When I give up those control freaks out there, the little bastards that stay in that little compartment keep getting more comfortable. They’ll ignore the commands to drop that chocolate. Or they’ll ignore the commands to go back to where they were, and they’ll ignore whatever I say. Because they never listen to me when I give orders, and they never listen to the guy who’s standing around who I ordered to do anything. So they’re doing their own thing. Fuck


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

"That was easy," I commented.

"What was easy?" Tattletale asked.

"Easy! I was already ahead! I should have predicted that you’d be stupid! Awfully dumb! I almost think you’re smarter than me!"

"I think you were pretty smart," I said, trying not to sound exasperated.

"But you lost!"

■

I didn’t have a chance to dwell on the finer points of my plan, and I didn’t feel like it.

A giant metal claw entered my torso and shattered it just long enough that I could breathe. I managed to raise my head, but couldn’t raise my own head after the sheer weight of the claw. It hurt, more than any of the thousands of pounds I might have been pulling with my arms.

My legs were painfully weak from the strain, and the tensed up tension of adrenaline notwithstanding, with the fight still ongoing and Bitch apparently unscathed.

I raised my head to look at Bitch, but she was already reaching the edge of the roof, where her dogs were waiting. I looked down and they were as still as I could manage.

"Good," I said, despite myself.

"You can call me Bastard now, I’m calling you Skitter. We’re- it’s not about the title. It’s about the fact that that line between what is and what could be is thin."

I shook my head. I’d thought the whole metaphor I’d been using might be a joke.

"Skitter," I said, carefully. It was just enough words that I was sure it would be hard to say what the pronunciation was if everyone in the building shouted it aloud.

"Bitter, like its cousin, but more bitter. That’s how I interpreted it. I think you’ll both agree that Skitter is a bitch to deal with."

"Hm?"

"She’s bratty, stubborn, and she’s reckless. Just like Shadow Stalker."

"I think I know what you’re thinking," Mrs. Yamada said. "You’ve said similar things before."

I hadn’t. I could remember in my haze of adrenaline, me saying she’d be the one to answer the question. I’d planned to give her an opening, to fill in the blanks.

But she didn’


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

I didn’t wait for them to catch on. I took the initiative and flew.

This time, I deliberately took the girl out of the fight, leaving it to the swarm to decide the outcome.

She was panting, sweat beading her brows, and she looked more human than she had in a long time. It was like a physical and emotional breakdown had revealed what she had been feeling.

She screamed, and it wasn’t the usual incoherent noise. There was only more incoherent noise, more water than usual falling down, and more noise itself than I would have thought was her.

The fight was over. She was gone, leaving swarms of small creatures to deal with.

Butterflies burst into the fight, flying just above the kids. They would have been a nuisance, but she had other reasons for fighting. They were her people. They were her proxies. They were her means.

I closed the distance, and I’d seen enough of the psychological warfare. I was quicker.

Two or three seconds later, the swarm chose its own entry point. The little ones with the tattoos descended from the air, bearing what looked like sausages, pastels, or fruit. Each had been dabbed with a color to mark the position in relation to the others.

I stopped mid-leap.

The butterflies I’d formed had settled at the foot of the building, surrounded by a mass of flesh. Skin, muscle, bone, muscle and more flesh to mark the intermediate changes. The wings and bodies wouldn’t be close enough to be eaten, but I doubted anyone would stop flying halfway into Hell’s Central Prison and not come away with a clue.

No, it wouldn’t be the Wards. I’d seen them in action, and they were only slightly less terrifying, if that.

No, it wouldn’t be Tecton or Grace. I’d been looking forward to interacting with them. Seeing them on the rooftop had been a nice break from the static and the endless video of them. Seeing them on the rooftop had been a nice touch, being able to sit back and not think too hard about anything.

But I was here, and now I was here only to try to track down Tattletale, to get intel, and to decide on a course of action.

The butterflies landed in a dense cluster at the base of the building. I could feel them drawing closer, the intensity of the landing intensifying, and yet they didn’t move closer


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

I waited while they tried to organize their fellow classmates and siblings. I watched the reaction of the Wards as they organized their buddies. I wasn’t really a hero, but I could look at it that way.

It wasn’t pretty. They had a tendency, all having something in common, to stand together. At times it looked ugly.

"Guys!" I called out. "This is serious! Please go to the hospital!"

I expected a chorus of yelps, but there wasn’t any.

"They took out the monster in the school! They’re winning!" I called out.

"They took out the monster in the school!"

"I’m winning!" I called out, again. "Come on!"

Nobody arrived at the hospital until eleven in the evening. Even then, there were questions.

Was this a ploy, like the ones with the wounded, or were the casualties the villagers? Were they civilians, dying of heartbreak?

Massacre.

No, the real question was whether this would be the straw that breaks the camels back. They would suspect, no doubt, but that suspicion would only be fully realized once the hospital was occupied.

The Wards were heroes, suspicious, full of life, full of optimism. They’d be trying to help, doing what they could to mitigate the damage. They’d be civilians, bystanders, but they’d be helping.

A lot riding on this.

I opened communications to the villagers. "Villagers here have been complaining of a great deal since I arrived. Too much noise, too much movement. If I may offer my condolences for the loss of their leader?"

"Fuck you, bald monkey," the man who would later be known as Butcher said.

Butcher’s hand relaxed on my shoulder, and he faded out of existence.

"I’ll make it quick," a girl’s voice said. "I want to talk to the professor."

"Go, go."

She disappeared, and the door of the auditorium swung open.

Accord and his group exited into an area with tents and multiple stories of tents intersped with apartments and condos. Schools had been erected around the area, with wooden platforms set at intervals, with the objective of encouraging walking and reducing the need for vehicles.

Butcher, in contrast to the administrators of the larger area, was a girl with a great deal riding on the outcome of this meeting. Her hair was long


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some, still ducking and weaving in and out of the swarm, flew in formation, longer groups, deeper groupingings, with more indiscriminate flocking. I got bigger and bigger, and felt the butterflies clutch and pull against my body.

I’d almost felt claustrophobic.

"Go!" I said.

More people joined the clique. It was a mixed blessing. It was a small crowd, and I was worried people would see me as one of the losers, that I was one of the victims. It was better than it had been at the funeral, when people were still reeling from the event. Here, people were emotionally exhausted.

Still, I managed to pull myself together. I said my piece, said what I needed to say.

I dispersed the butterflies.

The crowd went still. I shifted position, maintaining my flight. The ones on my costume helped. I had their attention.

I gathered my thoughts, and then spoke. My voice was almost quiet, inaudible in the midst of this, but it was my voice that came out.

"Weaver," the Director called out.

I hesitated.

"Skitter. Thank you."

I stepped forward. My bugs crossed the floor, above the shelf of butterflies, making it a little more difficult to miss.

"What happened?" the Director asked.

I’m in charge, I thought. I couldn’t be decisive anymore.

I exhaled slowly. I didn’t exhale hard, nor did I hit my chest as I spoke. It was more like my chest had a sack shoved under it, with bugs squeezed into it. Not quite the bag of bugs I’d had Amelia hold.

"Weaver," the Director called out. I stood up.

"Skitter. It’s nice to finally meet you," I said. "I’m really excited. I’m working on getting ready, but I don’t want to be caught up in introductions. I’ll text you later and let you know progress."

"Sounds good."

"Take care of yourself. You guys… do whatever you need to do."

She texted with one hand while she stood, folding her arms, contemplating something.

The bugs vanished.

A portal opened beside her. A moment later, everyone else was through.

"Sorry," I said. I’d taken off my mask, and my head and scarf were a little higher than the


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some were still resisting, still throwing themselves to the ground and scraping the water from their skin. They gave me dirty looks, no doubt due to the fact that I was the only one present.

The adults, I could hope. The kids couldn’t. The adults were the ones in control, the ones with the guns, the one in power, the one making the rules, the one that was beholden to the group, to the leader. The kids were just wasting their time, venturing outside with no idea what they were getting into.

"A shame," Mrs. Yamada muttered to herself. Not even a comment. She was already walking away, on her way to meet up with the Protectorate members. She didn’t even seem bothered that I was there, by the way.

It was only when I was outside that I saw the faces of the kids, shocked, stunned. The adults were busy trying to make their way inside, and the faces of the kids, shocked, stunned, were the ones who were still staring.

"The prize?" I murmured.

"Mags," the principal spoke, using one hand to stop a girl from grabbing my wrist. She paused a second, just using the hand to stop me from turning around, "My daughter’s friends call her Mags. She can pick up anything metallic, and anything made of metal."

"Mrs. Yamada," the principal spoke. "I have no objection if you want to call yourself Mrs. Yamada, but you shouldn’t call yourself my daughter."

I took a deep breath, "Well, I’m not quite sure what’s going on, so I’m just going by the letter of the law."

"Quite right," Mrs. Yamada said. She looked like she wanted to say something more, so I raised my voice, "Can I call my mother-in-law Mrs. Yamada? I’ll even look her in the eye, so you’ve seen the kind of person I am."

There were a few long moments of silence.

"Okay," I said.

Again, there was a murmur.

"Thank you," Mrs. Yamada replied. She seemed more pleased at the reception she got than the thank-you.

"You could go now and be on your way, or you can sit in the corner and listen while I resolve this."

"Sitting in the corner?" Mrs. Yamada asked me.

"Not very receptive to persuasion,


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

And I did not get a single glimpse of it as the butterflies flew through the air, a single glimpse of a light that blinded and blinded but did not kill.

The final search by Chevalier and the Wards turned up nothing. On the contrary, they turned around as the butterflies returned to the building, searching for more.

An unfortunate side effect of the ‘switch’, as Weaver had described it. There was no way to track just how many bugs there were beyond the designated limit of six.

But I knew where the kids had been.

I sent the butterflies away, still searching for more, and then I recognized the spot. I’d found it in the midst of the carnage, looking for the last bastion of life.

I approached, holding my ground as the heroes looked for survivors. I saw the kids huddled together against a patch of trees, pale with exhaustion, clutching little hands that were small enough to be buried in the earth.

I hugged my arms close to my body. My hair was damp from the rain, and some of it had been damp from the shower. I was wearing my costume, but I didn’t really need it. My hair was wet and tangled, and I hadn’t washed it in two days.

I’d had a bad day.

I stared up at the clearing, and the entire world caught the moment. The heroes were working together, now, a strange fusion of familiarity and security. They weren’t dying, at least. The heroes weren’t wounded, either. They were riding monsters that could spasm and spew fire out from their mouths in a heartbeat, and they had nothing to fight with.

Weaver’s song had stopped, the swarm moving onward, more or less intact, after the initial sounds of trouble.

All around me, the local heroes were hustling to catch their breath, recuperating. Clockblocker was preparing for a possible fight with Mannequin, the two were even. Glaistig Uaine was forming a swarm-clone, conjuring up illusions that were as faithful to reality as dinosaurs went, while Chevalier was recuperating in the armchair with his cannonblade in one hand.

Me? I wasn’t bothering to take cover. I’d have to get creative.

I drew out arrows and words with the arrows.

Weaver’s song resumed, but now with occasional clicks. I didn’t bother to fix the words, but just used the


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. There were too many people nearby, people who wouldn’t be able to walk without tripping the caterpillars.

"A prize?" Tecton asked.

"More credits! That’s two or three times what they gave me! Wow!"

"Wow," Wanton echoed me. "That was sweet."

"I don’t think you get any better than that," Grace said.

I raised my own cup to my lips, to my lips.

"You," Tecton said, "Are a fucking idiot."

"I’m intelligent," I said. "I can reason with people. I can reach out with my power and relay messages over the smallest channels. I’ve managed to earn a reputation with the good guys. When Dinah went up in flames, I was one of the last ones on the scene. I know my abilities."

"This is the Echidna effect," Wanton said. "When they fight, their opponents warp the water around them, changing its properties. You’re saying this is a consequence of that? A side effect of having a partner?"

I didn’t have a ready reply to that.

The room darkened. The only light was from the fire on the table and from the glow cast by the few remaining butterflies.

"What was it you said? You are mad."

"It’s not that simple," I said.

"I know it’s complicated, but you’re fighting in good faith. I’m saying fuck you."

I could sense the Simurgh moving, standing, flying and hovering. Her guns were pointed towards us.

"Fuck you, Simurgh," I said.

"Fuck you, D.W.," he said.

The roar intensified. It wasn’t amplified like that by Wanton or by the guns. More like claws scraping against pavement, ragged, ragged. Meaty, but not overwhelming. Still bloody, at the end of the day.

The screaming had changed. It no longer seemed like she was screaming in pain. It seemed to be more like… a primal, primal scream.

More butterflies were scraping against the bugs I’d set on her, biting and stinging, as she thrashed and kicked. I sensed the tendrils of tendrils extending towards us, feeling her way to a homely kind of self-delusion. A state where we were indistinguishable from the source material, where we were convinced


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. One by one, I brought more butterflies into the mass of kids. Three or four at a time.

It was like a volcano erupting. Smoke and heated air. It stirred and stirred again, and the kids began fleeing. Leaf-guards and stuffed animals leaping for the nearest piece of litter.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize at the end!"

They ran off, still more fleeing in their various directions.

"The bad news is," Mrs. Yamada said, "This is exactly the sort of situation you want to be able to see, so you can tell the others is okay and that there’s no trouble inside. The reward for catching them all is a visit from Dragon, and maybe a few will be released as well. You ask about the damage."

I reached out to the swarm, feeling them through the layers of silk, the spots where the butterflies had ripped through the cloth. They were writing in bold letters, ‘Warning!’ I had butterflies crawl across the back of my hand.

I couldn’t reach them to touch the surface, but I could feel the air moving, a breeze.

"Dragon’s here," I informed the kids. "You can’t miss her."

All eyes turned to me. I held out my hand.

I met Mrs. Yamada’s eyes.

"Yes. Let me show you."

I shook my head.

She wrote, again, in bold black letters: ‘DO NOT TOUCH.’

Her written depiction of Dragon’s typical response was blurred by the fact that she’d somehow moved me to the number assigned to her by the PRT. I knew of Dragon’s identity, now.

I’d been taken to a secure room, separate from the main group, with only the group watching. The kids were somewhere else.

"Eight more," Mrs. Yamada announced.

"We’re barely halfway there," I said. I moved my feet, aware of how unsteady my balance was. It was a lot of butterflies, but how did I manage it?

"Dragon’s power is cumulative, doesn’t it?" Mrs. Yamada retorted. "If you only had one, why did you make that the first command you gave me? Give me two commands, and you have me actively directing everyone in the school? It was a matter of PR and PR spin."

"PR spin," I


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. From the surrounding trees and bushes, I got the impression of hundreds of people running. It took some time to get their bearings.

"Sit," I said. "Be brave. I don’t want you to lose the butterfly rush. Catch every butterfly you can, and win the prize! You can earn the butterfly by beating the other team! If you fail, you lose the rush!"

If they failed, well, I didn’t blame them. They were probably itching for a thrill.

But I wanted them to stay calm, otherwise it would be another reminder of the butterflies that had gathered on me. I would have preferred to spend a few minutes serene, but the butterflies weren’t quite so relaxing after the prolonged stare down. I managed a few seconds of quiet, stillness before reaching into my utility compartment and withdrawing a change puffer.

I withdrew the comb, found the metal plug where it joined the end of the rope, and withdrew another. I disconnected the third, placed it on the butterfly net. When the net was set in place, stepped away from the girl and swung them around. The butterflies landed in the mass of people, and a few landed in my hands.

"Easy there," I said. "Just butterflies."

I could make out a dozen or so people, sitting in a half-circle. I felt a touch uncomfortable at the attention. It was even creeping me out.

I shifted the bugs to the point where they were either crawling on them or crawling on the butterflies. They were afraid, occasionally annoyed, but they weren’t stupid. They knew what was going on. Once they realized what was happening, they stopped trying to get out of my way and simply walked with their heads, shoulders and feet pointed toward the nearest exit.

I couldn’t stop them, of course. They were easy to interrupt, and I had to be careful that they didn’t get distracted by the butterflies or the rain.

"They won’t be able to run all out, but I think they’ll appreciate the courtesy."

"Probably," I replied. "Good job, Wards."

I turned my attention back to the butterflies. I’d earned a reprieve.

"Any tips for a good time?"

From the moment I woke, I’d been working on training my brain to anticipate things. Now that I knew the basics were mostly formed, I was working on incorporating new skills and concepts into my arsenal.

If nothing else, I was feeling more confident. If


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

I waited, hovering above the park, while Mrs. Yamada and Miss Militia approached.

"What is it?" she asked.

"How can someone so beautiful and unique be dangerous?" I asked. "Out of this world?"

"Yes," she said. She took me by the arm. "But that’s not the main point. I think you should know. Even if we aren’t directly interacting with them, we’re affected, like you are, by what they do. And there’s another important part."

"I don’t have a lot," I said.

"In a way," she said. "I think you’ll get what I mean. Don’t get what I mean. There’s nothing I can tell you that won’t make you laugh, stunned, your stomach churning, your blood running cold, but there’s a lot more I’d like to have in common with the rest of the country. We’re from the same planet. We’re also victims. It’s not a good sign when you get that clear."

I chuckled lightly. It was so much easier, like I had to get used to pretending to be normal.

"There’s hope," Mrs. Yamada said.

"What?" I asked. "What did you say?"

"Hope. The notion that we’re all going to turn out okay, thanks to you guys."

"Yes," I said. "We’re going to turn out okay. No promises. Promise broken."

"No?" Mrs. Yamada asked.

"None," I said. "But I still feel like I should say it. You’re the only one who I haven’t completely seen. The others… I’m only just getting to the periphery. I’m only getting to the periphery of their experience."

"I’m feeling pretty ambivalent on that front," Mrs. Yamada said. "I think it’s very possible that I could be the exception, and I’m wondering if it’s really possible that I’m an unfamiliar face to her."

"I’m fully aware I’m not doing anything revolutionary," I said. "I’m suggesting radically different ways people deal with the issues they’ve faced and lost."

"Sure," she said. "It’s not that easy."

"So what


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. Some disappeared into the swarming masses of butterflies.

I was left staring at the golden mask. The wisp of golden light that had accompanied it cut through the swarm, but the residual effects only made it flicker. When the light was gone, the butterflies had settled back into their place.

"How do you know these things?" I asked. "I’m not usually like this."

"We see through the mask," the girl from the Wards said. She had a bit of a mouth, but no eyebrows, and her lips were pressed together. "We see what the residual effects are."

"Right."

So the mask was a projection. Except the residual effects were like hair on top of skull… no, no. There was something more to it.

I saw the residual effects in action. There was a flicker of light on the bottom of the box, and on the top. The butterflies started fluttering back into their box. I was reminded of the time I’d run out of water in one of my first attempts at making a rain barrel, only it was more of a mist than a cup. This was a limited effect, but it wasn’t one I was willing to alter in any significant way.

"What effect does it have on the kids?" I asked.

"Little eyes are scary," Rachel said, as if she could distract me.

"I like scary," I said, as the butterflies returned to their box. I glowered at the girl with the puffy pillows, but she didn’t seem to notice.

"And the mask makes the parents completely blind," she said. She gave me a smug look, and she was glaring at me.

"I’m totally blind," I protested.

"Glasses were broken as you left the room," she said. "I’m the one who did the damage, I’m the one who’s causing the agony."

"Pain in the ass," I muttered.

I saw Rachel shift position, taking a spot at the back of the couch. She was wearing gloves, but I wasn’t sure if they were intended for the hands or the face. The girl with the puffy pillows shifted to the other couch.

I looked at the parents. Did they know what was going on? Were they watching their kids, looking after the kids?

"I’m guessing you’re the one with the questions," the girl said.

"My boyfriend thinks that maybe


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

"A prize?" Mrs. Yamada asked. "You mean like candy!"

"No," I said. I turned to face her, drawing the words ‘I don’t care’ behind my back.

She clutched me tighter.

"Why did you send so many?"

From the way she was looking out for me, calculating the route to take, calculating the prize she was offering… I wasn’t positive I wouldn’t want one.

"Because I was worried some would run away and ruin my day."

"I don’t understand," Mrs. Yamada said. "I have to go running every other morning, and I’m not going to let them win!"

"They won’t," I said. "But if you ever come here again, you can meet the people who were torturing me."

I pulled my mask off, then dove into the water. I was splashing hot water into the knives that the kids with knives had impaled in their skulls. The prizes were a combination of food and drink, and both the actual knives and the cups they were plungeding in were from the box I’d brought into the school. Neither disgusted me nor worried me. Both were terrifying and totally worth doing if you were going to a hospital or looking for a quick fix.

I surfaced, then felt a minutely-better as the darkness cleared around me. I turned to see Glory Girl at the other end of the bed, with Panacea standing beside her.

Panacea had retrieved all of the food from the fridge. Glowing, she was taking the stuff from Glory Girl and Glory Girl was turning to her. Panacea held the knife that looked like an eraser – it was long, thin, and rimmed with sharp points. Glory Girl was getting the paper off the cup. I could see her shaking her head. She was mad.

"Give it to her," Panacea said.

"I wouldn’t," Glory Girl said.

"Why not?"

"She’ll be mad. She’ll throw up, yell at you, swear. And I don’t want that."

"It’s not that bad," Panacea said.

Glory Girl shook her head a little, "You’ll like it more if you see it for yourself."

"I… that sounds better than what I have right now."

"Well, I’m going to have to bite your hand


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered. One by one, I took them out of the crowd and led them through the doors that were spaced out throughout the area.

"This will teach them to hunker down," I said, as I led the way. "Take cover, you two will be gone in the next few minutes."

"Butterflies," Bambina said.

I nodded.

She gave me a hug, but her eyes were so intently watching me that I didn’t reciprocate.

When five or six minutes had passed and Bambina hadn’t offered a reply, I turned to leave. The two girls would be gone by the time I was done. I made my way out the door to head for the PRT building.

The bugs continued to swarm the pair, but they were largely gone by the time I was at the door. Bugs continued to flow through the building like a current. It cast a dark cloud over the approaching sunset.

When the cloud had cleared, there were still clouds of darkness. The lights were out. I could see the doors, the huge robot that was looming over the entrance, were firmly open.

I stepped through the cloud, and there was even more darkness. This area, where the dark had been cleared away, was where the rescue teams were. Men and women in white, standing off to one side, gathered around the largest robot, watching.

It didn’t seem to matter.

I reached the edge of the area. The area where the Wards had their assigned areas. A large building, twice the size of a skyscraper, a gaping hole in the middle, with the gaping hole marked out on the building’s facade in blood and white.

I stepped over the edge, and there was a hush. The PRT personnel who were on scene were mute, staring.

I moved on, and there were murmurs of conversation. I was careful to be quiet, so as not to draw attention.

I reached Dragon’s enclosure. A large robot, stylized, with a red dragon motif on the exterior, and a white mask with a lightning bolt carved into it. Dragon’s face, etched into the face with black on white lines. She was white, I noted, the color that had been so successfully incorporated into her body from the moment she had opened her mouth, until she was almost black. She had white skin, I noted, and a conch shell around her face. She had a conch shell around her eyes, too.

I stopped, at the threshold.


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

I didn’t do a thing, however. My mind was made up.

"It’s only five minutes before we start the competition! Go!"

I glanced over my shoulder in the direction where the competition would be. The sun was setting, the horizon was breaking through the clouds. The place I’d been mustering my power in anticipation of the challenge was fading, in my opinion. The only things that were still behind me were the protection of my bugs, my shield, my glaive, my mirror, and my utility belt. That last piece alone could save me, but it would cost me time.

If I could save myself that much, I could bring my bugs into the fray. With swarms, I could track the monsters, I could track the monsters en masse, and I could bring about the change I needed. It was a small comfort, a small satisfaction.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t bear to watch.

I’d fought against Leviathan, I’d fought against the Nine, and I’d faced down countless clones and offshoots of Endbringers. What was it to me, now, if the thought of fighting another Endbringer crossed my mind?

No, it wasn’t the answer I wanted. I didn’t want to be left alone. To have someone watch me was to invite that very presence into my life. Something I was willing to confront.

I’d faced down more clones in the course of preparing my costume, in the course of figuring out how I was going to fight Backember. I’d had little time to prepare, in large part. Now, waiting as I did the simplest things, knowing that a single mistake could mean twenty or thirty people dying.

It was better that they weren’t fighting. That I wasn’t at the mercy of an unpredictable force with weak points.

I put bugs on my costume. I liked the feeling better than the actual simulation. I’d tested the bugs on the skin of my costume, and found that they could adhere to the fibers of silk I’d sewn together. I’d also found that they’d molt, defoliate, and that the more varied and persistent coloration that accompanied the natural fabrics of silk would be lost when they were soaked in water.

With this, I was effectively wearing the ensemble through the rain and the cold.

I let my head sink down against the ground, my momentum behind me.



"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

I didn’t miss the look of alarm on Emma’s face. Judging by the butterflies, I was already feeling a good amount of goosebumps. That was surprising.

"Go!" I said. "It’s a reward for helping us."

She looked around, looked back at me, "What are you talking about?"

"I wanted to see you."

"And me?" Emma asked. Her eyes were wet.

"We won!" I called out.

I could sense more kids running for the nearest exit, one group of them catching the end of a trash can to start recycling it into another group. Before the last person had finished, there was a smashing sound. The lid of the can was opened and both trash and chairs were thrown into the air. Everyone present was either shocked or completely dazed.

"Everyone okay?" I asked.

Some hands went up. I almost tripped over one.

"Are you alright?" Emma asked.

One of the older ones looked at me, but the look turned to questions.

"Do you mind keeping quiet?" Emma asked. She sounded like she was almost trying to be reassuring, "I’m not about to make an enemy out of a little encyclopedia."

I didn’t have a response for that.

Silence lingered.

"Um," Emma said. Her voice was a little faint. "Where did you come from?"

"Brooklyn."

"Where were you?"

"Brooklyn."

"I don’t follow."

"I don’t either," Emma said. "What was that about?"

"That you couldn’t follow?"

"No clue."

It wasn’t really a question. A courtesy, like letting me answer any questions before I posed them. But Emma didn’t seem to care.

The door slammed. The crowd moved aside, and I could see the scent of jam being carried past the exits.

I took a deep breath, and found myself under enough pressure, these days. Stuff like this, these situations where people were being irrational and attacking the silence, it made me feel… ridiculous. Like I was stuck in a cage with a killer and the only thing to do was to stand straight, or descend into the water in preparation for a dive.

This, at least, was something I could do. Not a question, not a situation. It was something I could do because I had the tools, the knowledge, the


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

"There’s a prize!" I said, surprised, again. I hadn’t expected that.

I didn’t catch Shadow Stalker, but she’d gone white, her wings burned black from the ambient heat. She glowed faintly.

I formed another butterfly. The one closest to our group, at the far end of the park.

"You’re not coming!?" I screamed.

"It’s too soon!", Roxanne said.

"It’s not the Nine taking the prize!"

"Then who took it!?" Grue called out. "Can you fly!?"

Roxanne turned a hundred and did, butterfly after butterfly fluttering through the air, as if the pursuit was some kind of obstacle.

I was going to try, one way or another. If the kids just made me back off, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold them.

"Three of you fell!" Shadow Stalker said, not looking up from the phone. "You hurt! You lost! Come back!"

"Don’t care!" Grue said, not sounding a little angry. "This was fun!"

"We’ll see," Shadow Stalker said. She ran towards the entrance, leaving Roxanne and I standing in the middle of the road. She slammed the doorknob on the car door and forced me to bite my tongue.

Grue went on, "This was fun! What’s for candy?"

Roxanne, blind, asked, "Who’s laughing?"

"Guys," Grue said, his voice low, "Have fun."

Roxanne didn’t seem to care anymore. "Who’s talking?"

"Riley, the candy," Shadow Stalker answered. She sat on the side of the couch. "Talk to him."

"We should go," Grue said.

"We’re not going!" Roxanne shouted.

"Riley said we should," I said.

"Riley is right," Grue said, not sounding more than mildly annoyed. He seemed to be all business, at least. "No sense in making rash decisions."

Shadow Stalker inclined her head. "Riley is right, but… I like the line we’re walking down. Isn’t it kind of creepy, walking around with giant knives?"

"I hate you," I said, without turning my


"This is happening because of you, in a roundabout way," Mrs. Yamada said. "When your secret identity was revealed, it didn’t take the media very long to discover that you’d been bullied in high school."

"Oh hell no," I muttered.

"People asked why more hadn’t been done to reach out to you and individuals like you. This was the response."

"I’m not sure this is a good thing," I said. "These assemblies and events were always atrocious, with really bad speeches."

"I saw enough of them when I was in high school, I know. But superheroes have the ‘wow’ factor, at least."

I looked at the very uncomfortable Boston Wards. They had enthralled the kids, but they couldn’t do anything with them, with the crush of bodies. The teachers seemed to be enjoying the break, sitting on the far end of the field, in the shade.

"Want to wow them, too?"

I glanced at her.

"Not a fight, but a chance to be heroic. The PR that’s been forced on your head won’t be a handicap here," Mrs. Yamada said. "And maybe it will help you feel a little more human, at a time when you’re worried about the monster inside you."

"A little heavy-handed," I commented.

"A lot heavy-handed," she said, smiling. "But it’s a chance to be outside, instead of cooped up in yet another room, without worrying your life’s at risk."

"I’ll take it," I said. "Thanks."

I ventured into the fray.

A hundred kids, all probably from one school. I almost would have rather been up against Bambina.

I called on every butterfly in the area, across the whole park. It took nearly a minute before they were gathered. I sent them into the crowd, flying over and around the mass of kids. Some of them screamed, others ducked, covering their heads.

Not quite the delight I’d hoped for.

Was this another point where I was underestimating what the effect of the swarm was, or were the kids just overreacting? It was only five or six hundred butterflies.

"Whoever catches the most wins!" I called out. "Go!"

The kids stared at me. Some were still reacting from the rush of butterflies.

"Go!" I said. "There’s a prize! A good one!"

They scattered.

I thought about it some. What was motivating them? It wasn’t so easy to figure out where.

The Mayor? Some unconscious desire to see me dead.

The killing? It didn’t fit. I wouldn’t have given it any serious thought. As a rule, villains were above suspicion. It was one of the cardinal rules of being a villain, to be unpredictable. A rule that Lady Photon hadn’t broken.

Could I have figured it out? Yes.

Had I, at the time, been driving them to that precipice? Had I been desperate for something, simply unable to give it up? I had to wait, week after week, and I had to keep waiting, until I had all the time and money I needed.

And when I did, I would find out what I was really getting, not by my abilities, but by their fruits. I’d meet the people in my territory, and things would make sense.

It had happened with Cyclonestuff, I had to remember. People still got hurt, still died. That wasn’t why I’d moved into the Docks. That wasn’t even why I’d moved in.

The fruits were there, but I couldn’t use them. I couldn’t figure out what people needed, because people demanded so much in return. Stuff they wanted and stuff they needed. Stuff they’d demanded before, after, during and after the fight. The main thing, really, was that people continued to demand it. Lady Photon had failed to get anything for the cage that had contained the kids. They’d won, but she hadn’t been able to stop the sales. She’d suffered for years with this cage and never recovered from it.

Next to nothing. I couldn’t believe they were giving her such poor service. People kept trying to take advantage of people with less experience.

Lady Photon had been successful with them, but she’d failed with everyone else.

I couldn’t use butterflies. I had to use people. There were only so many bugs I could steer away. I had to be creative.

These kids, they were scared. Aisha, I could see. She was wearing her costume and sitting in a café, talking to a old man. They were having a conversation about girls, old themes for her, when she was in costume.

Aisha was staring at me. She could bemusebrity and