Nicholas

---

Peeking over the top of his lunchtable, improvised shelter that it was, Nic saw that the beast was momentarily disoriented, perhaps made pensive by the biting cold burst. That was the right move, right? His angel wasn’t an angel, so he supposed that he could take that as validation, to one extent or another. Natalie, the one that had been at the dance with Archie, had latched onto the werecroc’s leg. But she was about as effective as a python trying to crush the ribcage of a big rig’s front tire.

Fortunately, she seemed to be invincible. Or at least close enough. Either way, she was seemingly going to do a better job protecting his angel than he could. That was, until he could finagle something more powerful. Completely unarmed at this phase, it seemed illadvised to continue in that particular melee. As he leaned against the overturned table that held him, he decided that when he got out he’d have to look into what sort of weapons or self-defensive measures were legal onboard. And if there was nothing he’d find a way to make his own.

Using the scalpel that he’d added to his first aid kit, he loosed the screws on the underside of the lunch table. About forty-five seconds of tooth-gnashing twists later, he had liberated a pair of steel chair legs from the table, each about three feet long, hollow and straight. Excellent. He slid them into the backside of his pants before thinking on how to extract his angel. But brainstorming for Operation: Rapture was put on hold when he heard the sound of gunshots. He’d have to have a little faith in Wonder Girl for the time being, he supposed.

Nononononono, he thought as he crept for the exit. Wherever Archie is he’d probably never forgive me if I let his girlfriend get killed to protect my angel. It then dawned on him precisely how much of a possessive sociopath he sounded like. Worry about that later, that’s what hell is for. He decided to proceed anyhow. It was novel being in a combat scenario without communications with his father to guide him. Maybe novel wasn’t the right word for it. It was terrifying being in a combat scenario without communications with his father to guide him. Exaggerated by the fact that he didn’t have eyes on anyone in the vicinity. He felt completely blind.

At that, he felt his antennae perk up before violently emmitting a stream of his retroviral carriers into the air. They smattered against the ceiling before spreading out over the room like a cartoon soundwave. It was an involunatary physical response. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t busy fearing for his life and everyone else’s. That is, everyone else who wasn’t already dead.

He saw an imposing man with his gun at the ready happening upon the girls. He said a few words that Nic couldn’t hear. Probably dabbling in some villainous monologue. He’d have to send the Devil a Thank-You card sometime to demonstrate his appreciation for the fact that what he’d thought was a nonsensical fictional trope was, in fact, an ironic reality. But before the guillotining gunman could seal his peers fates, Nic darted in from the loading bay before diving behind a large plastic garbage cart that the janitor had never quite put away.

In order to conceal his position, he tilted his skull and jutted out another stream of carriers to imply he was positioned closer to the opposite end of the cart before, a split second later, flinging one of the steel chair legs directly at the man’s skull, sentencing him to death, shouting “Angelus enim meus!”

Amelia

---

Amelia had been swimming in grief and turmoil. She almost didn't hear it when Lynn started to protest weakly. Amelia suddenly froze with a gasp as Lynn began to cough, and her protests became more audible. Amelia had a look of relief on her face, but it didn't last. The sound of movement and gunfire moving into the cafeteria set her back on edge immediately. Glancing around worriedly, Amelia leaned down and lowered her voice. "Hey. Hey! SHHHHHH! We aren't getting shot at right now but we aren't out of here yet. Lynn you're....." Amelia looked away for a second, not quite able to tell the truth. "You got fucked up. I'm gonna get you to the hospital but we need to get clear first. Just....hang in there and be quiet."

Amelia peaked around the corner and got a look at the oncoming terrorists. Two of them stood out, and were getting disturbingly close. Amelia swore under her breath, and reached for the rifle again. "If I get out of here, I'm learning how to shoot a gun, or at least fight," she muttered to herself. She looked over the rifle like an archeologist holding an unfamiliar artifact. She wasn't even sure the gun was still loaded. Amelia took two deep breaths. She took the gun in both hands, holding it as steady as a traumatized teenage girl possibly could. "Dumbest thing I've ever done..." With that, Amelia swung around the table, intent on gunning down the oncoming threat.

Amelia then immediately ducked back behind as there was a scuffle. Amelia knew where her talents lie. Anything short of a surprise attack would be met with a painful death. So instead, she held down behind cover, holding tightly onto the gun. She braced herself, preparing to strike when the fighting died down. As silence echoed, she prepared to dart around and shoot, but froze as she heard a familiar voice.

"This is Hardin. One down outside, one down inside. We have at least two survivors. Loading bay unknown."

FUCKING GENNEDY!? The persistently sarcastic voice in the back of Amelia's head could help but comment to herself, Oh great. Now we owe Gennedy our life. GREAT. In truth, Amelia was just relieved they had back up at all, even if it was from one of the people she despised on some level. Amelia made no effort to hide the rifle on her person. She wasn't letting go of this shit. Still, it didn't seem like Gennedy seemed to care. Amelia gave a quick nod at his command, getting back over to Lynn. "She can't walk, but I can have us follow behind. Her spine is...I think it-HOLY SHIT LOOK OUT!"

Amelia caught sight of a flying steel chair leg, and a bit further off heard some madman screaming in...was that Latin?! Reflexively, she held out her arm, trying futilely to do something, anything before it struck the man who actually knew how to use a gun.

Only, to the shock of no one more then herself, it wasn't futile at all.

Amelia felt...some sort of energy, almost a tingling, pass through her fingers and out towards the flying chair leg. The sensation was so strange. It felt like she was flexing a muscle outside her body. With a familiar scar in reality, the chair leg instantly vanished and reappeared a few feet to the side. It wasn't very far, especially with the assailant still looking at it. But at the very least it was enough to get Gennedy out of its trajectory. Still hyped up on panic and adrenaline, Amelia popped up from behind the table, and aimed her rifle down from the direction of the throw. "COME ON OUT HERE YOU TERRORIST FUCK SO I CAN PUT ONE BETWEEN YOUR EYES!" She paused, surprised by her own fury, before adding, "Also Gennedy please don't be mad about the gun. I needed it."

While on the outside Amelia seemed zoned in, inside she was spinning with confusion. Most notably the thought of how the fuck did I do that? dominated. Amelia shook her head. Questions for when she wasn't still dealing with maniacs trying to kill her.

Lynn's arm itched. She looked down and there was something in the crook of her right arm. Something. She tried to focus her eyes on it, but her eyes were not cooperating. She blinked. Did she? Did she blink? Something wasn't right with her vision. She was forgetting something. She was cold.

"You always were almost adorable." Lynn frowned. She'd heard that voice. The clinking of ice in a glass. Lynn looked up from her arm, eyes tracing over the orange jumpsuit pants that hung baggy and loose from her legs, though none of the other girls had ever once been fooled into thinking Lynn was a half pound heavier than she was. That sweatshirt had never fooled anyone either. It was just a hoodie to tell the world how rich and tall she wasn't. The jumpsuit told the jury what decision to make, if that silver collar hadn't. On seventeen counts of arson, eight of petty vandalism, three of petty theft -

Lynn was in a living room. There was a couch littered with cigarette burn marks opposite her. She must have been in the easy chair, then, the one that had more quarters than a pinball machine in its cracks. They fought over who got to sit there. Lynn lost intentionally. To her left was the window, barred over, broken through.

Lynn looked across the room and saw a man sitting there. A girl lay sprawled across his lap, strung out to oblivion. He had one hand cradling her neck, idly toying with her hair, and the other swirling the whiskey in his glass. To their right, a fireplace crackled and stirred, even though Lynn knew there was no fireplace supposed to be there. No fireplace in a meth house, Lynn thought. She felt like she was swimming. She felt like she was looking through stained glass, watching rain drizzle down. But there was no water. Only the clinking of ice cubes in glass. Something was wrong. It was too empty. There was always a junkie or two hanging around, some debtor or would be disciple girl to their resident prophet. But it was so empty. She was cold.

The man had olive skin, the wisps of an unformed beard and mustache clinging to his face. His cheeks were pudgier than she remembered, but she was thinking that was more that she'd remembered wrong, than that he'd changed. His eyes were dark and seemed to soak in the firelight without turning warm. Lynn went to pull herself up more in her seat but her arm caught. She turned back and saw there was a handcuff around the side of the easy chair to the crook of her arm. Some distant back part of her head started to hurt. That wasn't how the chair's arm was, Lynn thought. There was nowhere for it to hook in, this isn't right, who's that girl, why is there -

"Lynn." Che said, voice smooth as the whiskey swirling in his hands.

"Fuck off." Lynn muttered, looking around, fidgeting. There was nothing to grab, in a house full of needles there was nothing she could get in her hand. She had to - Lynn stopped for a moment, mind whirring. She had to do something, didn't she? But she couldn't remember what. Was it Che? There was someone else. There was a gunfight, and -

"You're safe."

Lynn turned and looked back at him. The woman in his arms was stirring, just barely. Lynn had seen that before, you know, the ones who might need naloxone, who might pull through. "Who's she?" Lynn said. You never answered their questions. You just deflected. Found something else.

"You know."

Lynn stared at the woman. Tattoos. She was familiar. She'd seen her, yes, at the -

"Drink?" Che asked.

Lynn was looking around. "Where's Clarita? Megan? What did you - "

"Lynn," Che said again, and Lynn felt her voice flicker out her like the flames in the pit. The left side of the room was dark, only lit by the fire. Her eye wasn't working right. "Just relax a minute. You know where you are."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Home."

"This isn't right."

"Was it ever?" Che asked, sipping. No matter how much he drank, it always stayed steady. That's not right either, Lynn thought, feverishly. Clarita poured, I never got to, I would've set it on fire, but she's not here, and - "You're dying."

"Nothing can kill me," Lynn said, but the lie felt weak even to her. She was, suddenly, she knew, just as she knew this house was not as she remembered it. She was shivering beneath her jumpsuit, and she felt clammy. The left side of the room kept growing darker. In the fireplace, the logs had burned to white ash. "I don't - let me out of this chair."

Che smiled. "I taught you how to pick locks."

"You taught me to fuck off and die. Give me the key."

Che shook his head. "Doesn't work that way. Don't you want a drink?"

Lynn stared at him. "I'm sick of these fucking games."

"Because you always lose?" Che grinned, cocking his head to a side as he looked her over, and Lynn could only think of the clothes melting off her, how bare and bone thin she was. Not like those other girls. Not like - there was a blank space in Lynn's brain. I should know, she's so strong, she - the first day, she had a collar, a...a necklace, I...and she - she broke my shoulder, she -

Fuck this.Lynn screamed with anger, trying to reach out to the fire, to make it roar up to life, but the flames stayed put. There was a second in-between her willing the fire to life and when it should have happened that she remembered something happening, she remembered reaching out to a flame, farther than she'd reached before - it had been the cafeteria, there were bullets, and -

Lynn looked back at Che. There were bullet holes all against the wall behind him. The woman coughed and murmured something incoherent. He ignored her. He always did. "Drink, Lynn."

Lynn looked down at the cafeteria mug in her hand. Water, boiling, boiling. There hadn't been a mug there before. She was cold. "What the fuck is this, Che?"

"I'm here to help. I can unlock that thing."

"Then do it."

"Not yet."

Lynn stared at him with all the doubt she could muster, but there was some part of her that almost believed it. That was Che's trick. He could tell the devil, I'm so sorry, Mister Scratch, I need my soul back for just one hour, I promise, there's a con job, and I can get us twice as much, I just need a little upfront, trust me - and he could've made it work. He grinned, sipping at the whiskey. From the left, she could hear the glass breaking, and a few bottles rolled into the room. There was the sound of a car screeching and taking off down the street outside. Lynn could only hear - the left side of the room was untouched by the firelight. "Yeah?" Lynn asked, almost wanting it to be true. On the one hand, the prison uniform scratched just as bad as it had that day - that last day she'd seen him, sitting in the courtroom, collar to her neck, shaking, livid - but a part quiet down murmured that there had been no one that had pretended to have the answers since then, either. What was better? That was the question Lynn had wondered about staring at the bunk above her in juvy all those nights. Is it better to have a liar who pretends to give a fuck, or no one at all?

"Yeah," Che said. "I'm gonna get you off the Promise."

All at once. Lynn felt a sudden surge and snap in her gut, like she'd been stopped halfway down the drop of a rollercoaster. The woman in Che's lap coughed and begged for someone to stop, that she didn't want to fight. Lynn looked down at the cafeteria mug, remembering, and something warm started trickling down Lynn's face. "No," Lynn murmured. "You weren't fucking with me, I'm - "

"Half your brains are on the cafeteria floor." Che sipped at his whiskey. She'd forgotten how it sounded, the ice, how many times she'd heard it sitting in that room. "I want to help you Lynn. You need the help, you know. This - " Che gestured with the whiskey glass, fingers twirling the woman's hair, "Is every last little ounce of that parahuman blood of yours keeping you up on the ropes. It's all here in your skull trying to keep a few neurons firing."

She looked over at her arm, handcuffed to the chair.

"Your temperature's eighty nine degrees right now. And you just lost your right hand to frostbite."

The firelight flickered more. When she looked back at Che he was wearing a suit, black and silky and smooth as a raven's feathers. He'd never once owned a suit in his life, no matter how much he'd bickered about needing just one more drop off or a few more pockets picked before they'd have made it. Lynn tore more copper wiring off exposed generators than she could remember to finance that dream, the idea that if Che was successful, he'd pull them all up with him. He's fucking lying, be smart for once in your stupid life and stop listening, Lynn wanted to snap at herself. But the other part of her felt cold. "You fucked me over," Lynn whispered.

"We've all made mistakes," Che said. Somehow, that sounded right, even though the snapping part protested. We all make mistakes but we don't fucking do what we did, it said, but it was quieter, and colder. He gave her a crooked smile. "You don't get anything back at all if you don't let me help."

"I'd rather put a bullet in your - " Lynn stopped. The fever was getting worse. The room was getting hotter.

"Remember?" Che whispered.

Lynn touched a hand up to the side of her head. It was wet. She felt where half her skull should be. There was no more hair on her head. "No," she murmured. She turned and looked at the fireplace, which had crackled back to life. The white logs were thinner, now. They were too thin to be fireplace logs, and white.

"I..."

"You did."

"I didn't know."

"You were happy to do it. What'd you say? Something about the Great Wall?"

"Che, he - Che how was I - "

He held up a hand and Lynn stopped talking. She was little again. But he was listening to her, and that meant something. The protesting part was farther and farther away. He leaned forward, and the woman slipped off his lap onto the floor. She shivered, choking on her spit. Her head looked nearly as fucked as Lynn's. Bruised, beaten in. Her clothes had been melted off. "Lynn, you don't have much time left."

Lynn said nothing, staring forward.

"Even if one of them manages to keep you alive. You have a matter of hours. If none of them sits with you in the hospital - which they won't - they'll pull the blanket off and let it happen. Another tally mark for the terrorists. You know what's coming."

Lynn looked down at the handcuff around the crook of her arm, her head feeling swollen and heavy. She was so cold.

At his feet, Salamandra croaked for mercy and Che put a perfectly-shined shoe to her throat and silenced the noise. Lynn turned to the fire to look away, and the bones of the Chinese boy roasted brighter as she did. The gun melted, it melted onto his shoe and he couldn't - "Christ, Che, I don't -"

"Do I seem better now? Now that your hands got a little dirty?"

"I never - I never fucking - your own sister, Che, your own fucking - "

Lynn's voice trailed off. The bottles from the window rolled further into the room. The geometry of the room was melting and running, but Che hadn't noticed. The firelight burned brighter as the bottles rolled in, oozing out kerosene onto the floor. Her nose hurt, across the bridge. "I know."

There was quiet for a minute. The heat was starting to get oppressive, now, sucking the air out her lungs. She could feel the heat against her but it didn't make her feel any less cold. The handcuff was in her arm, going into one of her veins. Lynn lifted the mug to her lips and stopped before she took a sip. There were cracks down the ceramic. Che watched her curiously.

"You're still alive somewhere, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Could ask you the same thing."

"You're in my head."

"Never left."

Lynn closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't know if him being a hallucination made what he said more or less true. Are you gonna ignore yourself, Lynn? He only knows what you do. That means what he says is what you're thinking.

The walls started to melt on the right side, but Lynn couldn't see anything on the left at all. She tried to keep her eyes from Salamandra's body or the one in the fireplace or the bottles on the floor and that left nowhere to look but right at Che. "Do you know how many people were in the house? When you made me throw the bottle?"

"Made you?" Che asked, kicking Salamandra over to face her. Lynn steeled herself, even as she felt her head swaying. Her toes didn't hurt any more, and she looked down and saw the black rot of frostbite creeping up to her ankles. Don't be a bitch now. Don't die like a little bitch. "Do you think you get off the Promise without another Salamandra?"

Lynn stayed quiet, feeling the mug in her hand and the sweat that was coursing down her skin. She shivered, her breath misting. The room was so hot. "No," she said, softly. "I have to do it again, don't I?" Somewhere outside, she could hear more gunshots, she could hear screaming in a language she couldn't understand. A woman screamed. There wasn't any pressure on the left side of her skull any more.

"How many more?"

"I don't know, Che."

He leaned forward, and suddenly the floor was melting down and they were being pulled closer, no matter how hard she dug her frozen feet into the bed to stop it. "What if this happens, Lynn? What if you find the kids, and they're all around, Gennedy and the others? What if the woman in the woods comes? What if you have to let them go back into their little cells, or you can - " he sipped at the whiskey. "You can stop all that for them. It's not hard. You know how easy it is now."

He kicked Salamandra and she rolled over closer, through the kerosone and across the firelit floor that was running like watercolor right to the base of Lynn's chair. "Shut the fuck up, Che, I - " But it was like everything he said, it snaked in and coiled around and never, ever, went out. What if, Lynn thought, and she was in a little prison room with Clarita right in front of her, looking up at her with a bloody lip, and there was gunfire outside. You already killed one kid, Lynn, someone said. What's a few more? It's already too late.

Che leaned back. The ice in his drink was still cold. "We didn't want to wind up here, you know. You and me."

"I'm not here," Lynn said. "There's not a fucking we."

"You can go." He gestured to the oozing, utter black of the left side of the room.

Lynn leaned back, closing her eyes. Her eye. Christ, her eye, it was gone, that was why -

"Do you think when you wake up you can ignore it? What happens? Are you just gonna die? That's it. That's all it boils down to. You would rather live and light thirteen year olds on fire than do the right thing and kill you-"

"Shut up," Lynn whispered.

"Four people. Ash." he snapped his fingers. "Because you wanted to feel strong and stand over Salamandra with her skull caved in. And a kid. How old was he? Thirteen? Twelve? You saw the rifle shaking in his hands, didn't you? The terror in his eyes behind that ski mask? You did all that. Not Gary and his wandering hands, not me, not any one of the bitches in juvy. Just you, Lynn."

Lynn stared, her brain running like the room around her. I burned Gary's hand, he tried - I burned someone's hand, recently, the mall, I burned him, I didn't mean to, I shouldn't have, I didn't -

"I meant it when I said I wanted to help, Lynn. You always fought harder than anybody else. It's what made you so useful. Like Smokin' Joe. Tougher every round. Every ring of the bell. Are you smokin' yet, Lynn? It's the fifteenth round. There's no time left." Che stood up off the chair and stepped across the floor, gliding across the ground that melted and ran like molten wax. Lynn could smell, for a brief minute, a dizzying rush of smells - Christmas pine needles, dumplings steaming and sizzling, iron and salt, gunpowder, sweat. Everything was starting to tilt, now. Che alone stood still, like some kind of anchor in all the dimensions of space, as the bottles rolled into the fireplace with the sounds of police sirens and a gavel slamming and the feeling of glass in her face, in her nose, blood running down her throat as she tried to breathe. Everything was cold as the fire spread across the room. Lynn couldn't tell the boundaries between her senses any longer. They fumed and flickered like a fire catching on to deadwood. Salamandra's body went next, and Lynn saw there were four more bodies turned to ash inside the fireplace as she went, ripped up shreds of a Chinese menu. And a Chinese boy, dressed like a toy soldier, crackling, burning. Then Clarita, and Megan, and Eli, and Keaton, and Amelia, and Natalie, and him -

"Stop it, stop it, Che, I don't - "

"It doesn't fucking stop," Che snapped. He was right next to her chair, standing over her, and she was small, small as she ever was, and Lynn tried to shove him away but her hand slipped into the black of the suit and kept going and going and going as the other hand stayed bound to the chair. She pulled back and her hand was gone was like her eye. At least it wasn't cold anymore. Che leaned over her as the rest of the room ran into the fireplace and then the fire started running back, crawling up the walls and across the floor. It flickered in Che's eyes and in the whiskey glass as he poured it into Lynn's little ceramic mug, ice clinking as he filled it to the top. "That's the thing. It never stops. The first time you sat on a street corner and looked for cops when I made a deal. It never stopped after that. Not once."

There was nowhere else to look but him. "You should've just killed me," Lynn finally said.

Che smiled, something wide as his whole face, his teeth now straight and shining. "Maybe. You were never gonna get out, Lynn. That's what nobody told you. None of the guidance counselors or prison therapists or kids on the Promise. You were never gonna catch up. They were nice. They smiled. They ate lunch with you. But none of them were gonna say you were a fuck up from the day your mother left you at the hospital when her baby's eyes changed color."

Lynn stared at him.

"You were never going to get out. Not out of that neighborhood. Not out of juvy. Not out of here. You may as well have stepped into a casket instead of that fucking rocket ship. Even if you get to a pod. Even if you get through the atmosphere. Even if you land." He shook his head, smiling wider and wider and wider. There was no way to tell where the dark of the suit stopped and where the dark from her left eye started aside from when the fire flickered between them. "I'm in your split open skull." The only thing steady was the whiskey in her mug. Her hand was back. It was holding it. The other was still cuffed down by the IV tube. "You killed a kid, Lynn."

Lynn said nothing.

"You burned him alive. He died screaming with metal in his face and molten steel boiling through his feet."

Lynn turned away.

"I never did that. I tried to hustle you all, sure. I even hurt you. I won't lie. But I never fucking lit a kid on fire." Che sipped at his whiskey, still just as full after filling her glass. "Do you think it hurts for long, Lynn?"

"Shut the fuck up," Lynn whispered, the mug shaking in her hands, but the whiskey never spilled.

"This is my help, Lynn. The only thing I can give you."

"You're in my head. This is - this isn't - it's a Salamandra dream, I've had a - "

"You've had nineteen."

The fire grew and grew.

"Salamandra let you hesitate, you know. And that kid. And all the others. But Arianna won't. Gennedy won't. Do you want my advice?"

"How did I live?" Lynn asked. You deflect. You don't let them control the conversation. But it didn't matter, because Che was always the conversation. He could play the game better than she ever could.

"Think."

Lynn closed her eye, the sweltering heat thudding against her, digging its claws in and pulling at her. She was so cold. "Someone got me out," she murmured. "Not Keaton, or Eli, they couldn't have..." she paused, thinking more. "The lizard. He would've killed me." she paused, feeling the whiskey in her glass, wanting so badly to take a sip, to feel something cold, she knew it would make it all stop melting and all hold still. "Spoons would've...gone crazy, I..." It clicked. "Amelia."

"Why?"

Lynn paused. She felt the fire start to creep in the hole in her head, and she could feel it slither down her throat. She was still cold. Why would Amelia have gotten her out instead of saving herself? "She's afraid." Lynn stared. "Afraid of me."

"It never stops."

Lynn tried to breathe but there was no air. She could still speak, which she didn't understand. Cold. "Does Keaton know? Eli? That I...killed..."

"Who? Any of them? Not yet. Maybe Keaton suspects. But Keaton will put it together. The kid. Salamandra."

"How, I - "

Che hushed her with a look, the way he always could, and nodded.

"Gennedy could've given her a tip."

"No, no, she wouldn't - "

"You haven't been caught yet. Did you really think you were that clever? You're fucking failing every class."

The cold got deeper. You stupid girl. You stupid bitch. Lynn lowered her head. "Eli?"

Che looked down at her. "She pities you. She heard what you sputtered out at the party. If she remembered half of it, Keaton knows the rest."

Lynn stared at her glass. What did I tell her? "It never stops."

Che shook his head, and the rest of the room melted away. It was just fire, and Che. "It never stops."

"What was your advice?"

Che smiled at her, and pulled back the jacket he was wearing. His .45 was tucked into his waist. Lynn felt the pain in her knee as fresh as the day she'd gotten the scar. The pistol made her shake and clench. Her knee. Christ, her knee. "Don't turn your back to any of them this time."

Lynn thought he was going to slide the jacket back over, but she realized it was an invitation. Lynn reached out with the arm that was cuffed to the chair, seeing that her right knee was oozing blood through her jumpsuit as she did. She wrapped her hand around the pistol. It and the whiskey. The only cold things in the room. She pulled it out from his waist, uncomfortable with how close it brought her to him, again, and pulled back into her chair. It was cold steel, and there were leather straps binding her to it, and electrodes against her skin. There was talking somewhere out the window. A voice she recognized. A man. She couldn't place it. The sound of something crashing.

"If you wake up," Che said softly, "You'll try and break them out, won't you?"

Lynn nodded, barely. She was shivering.

"And then what? Do you take them home? Do you get them back home? Do you have a plan to get them home?"

Lynn looked away. Her plan was always just...she...

"You never wanted to get them out did you, Lynn? Not really."

Lynn felt sick. It wasn't true. She didn't want it to be true. It just sounded so right.

"You just wanted to feel like a good person before somebody with better aim than me put a bullet in you."

There was nothing for Lynn to say. There was just fire and Che and cold. He always was right. She never could outsmart him.

"What's your plan now, firestarter? If you're unlucky enough to wake up."

"I - " Lynn said, feeling something trickling down the left side of her skull. "I...get the others, out...out the way. On the pods."

"There's something useful you've done, at least."

"Then I - I go. And..." For a moment the room seemed almost steady. The handcuff on her arm slipped away, but Lynn didn't notice. "..and we see how good their aim is."

Che smiled. "Better than me, for sure. Don't feel bad. Maybe you'll do it. You always did pull something out in the fifteenth. If not, hell's warm enough for you." His eyes flickered as the fire started dancing across him, too. He clinked his glass against her mug.

"Have a drink?"

Natalie Ellis

---

---

Natalie, as she was pulled along, and fell onto her back, realized she hadn't thought this through very well. She had just been trying to stop Archie from hurting anyone. Now, she was in danger. She felt the weight of the foot and the 9 foot lizard attached to it press against her chest and felt the wind escape her lungs. She gasped, and grabbed the foot just as she felt her ribcage almost creaking. Luckily, she was strong enough to push against the foot and not just relieve the pressure, but slowly raise the foot.That's when she felt it start to move away voluntarily, and she let go, before rolling away and getting back to her feet. She didn't know whether any of what just happened was deliberate or accidental, so she watched Archie cautiously from where she was standing. She looked over to Eli and Keaton. They both seemed to be unharmed. She looked back to Archie, slightly scared. In full control of her mind this time, she understood the threat he posed.

"Archie, can you hear me? It's Natalie. I'm here. Because we made a promise to each other to never let each other go too far. Remember that?"

---

A scream interrupted a peaceful night in Arizona.

Lights flickered on down the hallway in a quaint suburban home. Out of the room emerged a woman in a cotton nightgown. Her hurried steps carried her down the hall. Her arms reached for the handle to a white door with a purple E painted on it. With just a turn of the knob and a pull, she found herself in a room with purple walls. It was dimly lit, illuminated only by a star lamp that stood in the corner. It's light cast constellations against the ceiling, bookcases, stuffed animals, and a crude blanket fort made by placing a blanket over a desk. Her eyes turned immediately towards the bed, where she found the huddled form of a young girl right under the constellation of Orion.

"Eli? Honey, what's wrong?" Her voice, although slurred by drowsiness, was as smooth as silk.

The little girl's head rose from her knee and her arms hugged her knees tighter. A small river of tears flowed down her cheeks and her eyes were wide with fear as she saw her mother in the doorway. "I had the dinosaur nightmare again," she whispered. "But this time when I woke up, it was in the closet." Her hand rose from her legs to point at the dark, open closet on the other side of the room. She took a stuttering breath, staring at the dark space as if the creature would reappear.

While something like this may have frightened a little child, it did nothing to scare the strong woman that stood in the doorway. Her mother strode straight towards the closet, and to Eli's surprise, reached straight into the abyss. The light within clicked on with a simple pull of a string. Eli immediately hid her face into her knees again.

"Eli... Look, honey. There's nothing in your closet. See?" Her voice was soft, and soothing.

Eli slowly lifted her head, whimpering as if she'd see the beast again before she felt relief pass through her when she opened her eyes. There really was nothing in the closet. Nothing but clothes and a toy box. She sniffled again and rubbed her puffy eyes with the back of her hand. "But it looked so real, mommy."

Her mother gently made her way towards Eli's bed now. She crawled under the covers with the girl and Eli climbed into her embrace as she sat back against the headboard. Eli gratefully hid in the crook of her neck. She was warm, and the little girl could smell her lotion wafting from her skin. Vanilla. Her mother always smelt of Vanilla. She held on tightly, still recovering from the frightening nightmare. Her mother's presence was slowly easing her back to sleep.

She felt her mother kiss her forehead, and then her fingers running through her hair. With a sigh, she finally felt her racing heart slow to a calm pace. The room was quiet for a few moments. She listened to the distant nighthawks chirping in the Arizona desert, until her mother's voice filled the room. She sung softly, some lullaby that her own mother sung to her years before. By the time she reached the second chorus, Eli was already peacefully asleep.

---

"Archie, please."

As brave as she was to continue projecting illusions into Archie's mind... as strong as her will was to continue to stay focused amidst her terror, Eli's resolve shattered the moment the beasts arm crashed into the wall beside her.

The impact was deafening. A terrified cry escaped from her throat. Eli felt her entire body shake as ripples of energy passed through the wall, and she shrunk into nothing but a small form against it's base. The pain that flared in her calf was nothing compared to the panic that took control. Her hands came up to cover her head, as if to they could hide her from what was about to happen next. This is it. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as they stared down at the blood spattered ground. The memory of the beast lurking in her closet came to mind, and she felt just as scared as she had when she awoke from the dream. The kind of fear that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and left a tight, painful feeling right in the middle of your back and your shoulders This was the first time Eli yearned for her mother's embrace in years.

But the monster never emerged from the closet. The light came on, and the hot breath of the monster above her never came an inch closer to her. Slowly, like a mouse trapped in a small crevice, Eli turned her shaking body to look up at the beast's mangled face. This close to him, Eli could see every scute and scale on his body. A droplet of blood dripped down a broken tooth and fell to land on Eli's hand. She flinched and felt it's heat as it dissipated against her skin. She couldn't look away from him. She wasn't sure why he hadn't killed her yet. Why did he throw his arms up like that? As if it was meant to stop him from crashing into her.

Did her illusions work? Had she broken through to him? She was utterly shocked, and yet still completely terrified. What would he do now that the illusions were gone? Would the rage return? Out of fear, she remained frozen in place, cowering beneath him as if any sudden movement would draw attention to her once more. She felt like a little girl again, and she desperately wished that she could crawl under the covers and be safe from this nightmare.

Then another explosion rocked the room. This time it came from beside the beast. She returned to a fetal position against the wall once more. Surely the beast would come crashing down onto her now. Only, he didn't. She looked out from behind her blood-matted hair to see that one of his arms had clawed it's way down the wall and onto the ground. A moment of relief replaced her terror when she saw the huddled form of Keaton on the closer side of it's massive foot. Keaton had been there the entire time. Why hadn't she seen her before? She saw shrapnel sticking out of the beast's arm and, for a second, she was almost convinced that he'd done it to protect her. That couldn't be true... right? Her eyes grazed over Keaton. She was unharmed... besides the blood that stained her denim jacket.

"Keaton!"

Fueled by the hope that spread through her, Eli began to crawl towards her friend. They had to get out of there, somehow. They had to get as far away from Archie as they could. Maybe in this moment of clarity, the beast would let them go.

The ray of hope was gone in an instant when the beast's body jerked once more. She cowered again, feeling as if she'd provoked him by moving, before she realized what had happened. His massive shadow was gone. Somehow, he'd been pulled away from them, and when she looked to see why, she saw Natalie gripping his leg. So, Natalie had super strength... and Archie could turn into this. The girl appeared behind the beast for a moment before it turned it's attention towards her. Natalie saved them from whatever was about to happen next, but now she was alone against Archie. Eli looked away as his foot descended upon Nat's chest with a grimace.

"K-Keaton... We have to go," she managed, her eyes desperately pleading Keaton to jump into action. She couldn't make it on her own. She wouldn't leave her friend behind. What are the chances we survive, Keaton? What's your head telling you now? She just about reached her when she heard Natalie's voice. Her head whipped around, and she stopped in place when she saw that the monster hadn't crushed Nat.

Even though Natalie's words were touching, Eli wasn't sure if they would get through to him. Even if the illusions had stopped him before, it seemed like every sudden sound or movement would set him off again. They had no idea what would trigger him next. Would it be Keaton and Eli as they tried to escape? Would it be The Promise's staff, finally arrived, and aiming rifles at Archie's enormous form? Were there still gunmen in the cafeteria? So many possibilities. So many ways to die. Eli felt like her head was spinning. Or was it the bloodloss? Would she even make it far enough before collapsing?

No, there was no escaping this. She had to face it head on, like she'd done the gunmen earlier. She swallowed. Disorienting Archie wouldn't help. It would only send him into a deeper state of rage. If she took away his sight or smell, he could easily thrash his body until it found something solid to hit. They made a promise? It seemed that the two were closer than she expected. She'd relish in the thought that her advice worked for Archie later. Now, she could only hope that their bond was strong enough to bring the real Archie back.

If there was a difference between the two.

"I have to t... try something, Keaton," she murmured, reluctantly closing her eyes to the scene before her. She thought long and hard about Natalie. She'd only ever been in the same space as her a few times. They hadn't even spoken to each other that much. She could only rely on the image of her, and the words Nat spoke to Archie just now. She remembered how Natalie looked at the bonfire. With her pretty dress, sleek black hair, and perfectly done makeup. She'd looked amazing. Like a dark angel...

It was the image she chose to show Archie now, and Natalie's words about their promise drifted throughout the illusion. Even if doing this took the last of her energy, used the last of her blood left in her body, Eli knew that it was the right choice. They'd all be okay if Archie came back. He needed to come back. She couldn't stand feeling this way about him. This fear. While she could never look at him the same, she thought that if they could get him back to the way he was, she could stand to be around him again.

"Come on, Archie..."

Archie

---

"Archie, can you hear me? It's Natalie. I'm here. Because we made a promise to each other to never let each other go too far. Remember that?"

It's desperate, it's needy, it's paranoia wrapped in fear with anxiety on top.

It saw her, but it saw her, what she was those days ago in his mind's eye. He felt her touching his hand in her beautiful homecoming dress that was dirtied because he, a silly, stupid country boy decided to take her to a bonfire rather than a dance.

"Archie, please."

It's a name, it's a calling, it's a worry, it's an ask, it's a prayer to a god he doesn't know if he believes in but would happily sacrifice everything to if it meant that he didn't have to be this.

It was weird. When the giant fought, he didn't remember the details. He certainly didn't remember the fear. The reptile was strong, fast, fierce. It would bounce back from nearly everything short of anti-material ordinance. It didn't think, or feel, or care if people had families or thoughts. It was driven by pure and unadulterated desire to survive and dominate. Archie, on the other hand, was just a man. A young man who cared too much and thought about too little. He could be manipulated and hurt and there was sometimes nothing he could or would do about it. The world goes white. The scent of iron burns in his nose.

The searing pain in his shoulder returns as if he'd been shot again. The mammoth reptile steps back and away, but doesn't immediately turn. The adrenaline, the pain, the scent of blood fills the air so thoroughly it tastes like he's sucking on a coin. It’s too silent, it's too loud, it's too bare, it's too raw, it’s too broken, it's too bloody. For the first time in his life Archie, the real, human Archie is at home in the reptile's body, in control rather than held over by emotion, but unaccustomed to the sensory overload. He bellows, pounding the ground on accident with a meteor sized fist. He didn't turn back to his human state, but he didn't have to. Within moments of the giants retreat the doors to the launch bay were opened, and the reptile was filled with enough sedative to put an elephant down by the first wave of guards. Archie went down hard, and did not get back up again.

The first on the scene was Gennedy, who directed first-responders to the prone forms of the girls. Lynn and Amelia were already being loaded onto stretchers and hauled off to the hospital, and the survivors of the launch bay wouldn't be far behind them. The world was spinning. Everything was too bright, too fast, too sudden. Healers were working overtime, not spread quite as thin as they had been during the breakout but the injuries were just as severe.

---

---

Gennedy puts the phone down, and sighs into his hands. Utterly exhausted.

It had been five days since the incident that had rocked the world, and The Promise was reeling as much as parahumans down on Earth were. The world had all of its preconceived notions of that the space station was, shattered during the attack- which had been live streamed from the perspectives of several of the shooters. The world had seen what happened before they had even cleaned up the bodies. Thousands of people watched their children die, or be injured. The PR department was likely experiencing what could only be described as a nightmare in real life.

But the worst came with how the world reacted to it. Sure, there were those that reached forward to help. Donations, charity, words of endless affirmation... but it was drowned out by what felt like an overwhelming outcry. Parahumans were, in the best countries around the world, second class citizens. Similar enough to the far more common humans to not be outright exterminated but different enough to be detested. A successful attack on what had been considered the most secure establishment from external pressures in human history had bolstered the confidence of other groups with similar ideologies to The Silent Court's. Rather than direct the resources and energy into dealing with that caused such syndicates to rise (which was to say, the lack of proper relief from incidents), Parahumans- the easy scapegoats that they were, were blamed.

Too dangerous to themselves and the world around them. Too destructive to property and person. A person with power abused it and thus invited the challenge of power. The rate at which academy programs were attacked increased, and it seemed as though the world was returning to a level of strife that it had not seen since the days when Parahumans first appeared on Earth.

The world was changing again.

Academy programs became more militant across the board. What had once been establishments that taught power control, were now also teaching self defense like they were some sort of special forces unit. The Promise had been no different- except martial law had become a fact of life. When The Silent Court had struck, their attack came in two parts. The first had been the attack, but the second had come later. Food, water, medical supplies… they had been compromised or destroyed or hadn’t even delivered at all. Supplies were spread thin, and after the incident rationing had become a necessity.

You got your food and water from a designated place at a designated time. What had been over the counter medication required clearance. People were to be indoors after a certain time. The works.

All things considered, the last one had been less a result of the attack and more so an upscaling of the ongoing manhunt that Jacob Radvi had pioneered before he had gotten himself shot in the skull. The evidence he had submitted had been compelling enough to warrant some degree of investigation, but now the world’s eyes were on him, and the search had intensified.

Gennedy groaned, and ran his hand along his beard, and then returned to his paperwork.

---

T H E P R O M I S E

---

"Mister Black, White, what do you think about endings?"

”Necessary.”

”Bittersweet.”

A little boy places his paintbrush down on his easel, and sighs. He turns around on his seat to face his father figures. "I was reading about the concept of the hero and the clown. How the hero struggles against unbeatable odds in spite of it. And how the clown exists to mock the hero's struggle. Sometimes I think that the desire to control works against the hero."

Black and White just glance at each other.

”The concept of ‘control’ varies greatly.”

”For many, it can be... poisonous.”

Matthew hums.

"I'll have visitors soon, seeking control, I feel."

Matthew turns to his painting and frowns. It's the point of view of a baby in their cradle, looking up at two dark figures.

"I think what they're really looking for is change."

Lynn and Archie

---

When Lynn woke up, there were names swimming in her head, threatening to pour out the weeping eye socket that was packed with gauze and bandages.

Gennedy. Radvi. Arianna. Che. Che. Che.

One swam out to the forefront.

Lynn blinked her eye open and turned, breathing shallow and gasping on the respirator. Her throat - her throat was sore. Like someone had made her swallow sandpaper. Feeding tube, Lynn thought for a moment, lifting the arm that was bound by an IV to enough rolling fluids to keep her hydrated until the end of her life.

“Wrrtrr,” Lynn choked, gasping. She coughed and coughed, turning. Ash splattered out onto the bedsheets. Get it together you fucking bitch, Lynn wanted to scream. You’re not dead yet. You have a few more hours. Lynn looked at the room around her. One thing she had learned in prison, growing up, anywhere - any few moments you could take to gain some kind of knowledge about your surroundings was invaluable. She looked at the room, blinking, bleary. My eye, she thought. I got my eye -

The kid. Burning. Burning. The gun melting through his -

Lynn closed her eye and leaned back into the pillow, trying to keep her breathing steady. Christ. For a beautiful moment she’d - she’d almost forgotten, and -

She opened her eye again, staring up at the ceiling. “Cara,” Lynn whispered, hoarse as a dead man.

“Yes, Lynn?

“Water. A nurse. And….” Lynn closed her eye, gripping the side of the hospital bed to force some kind of stability into her bones. They’re shooting me full of something, Lynn thought, her thoughts swimming. All of them swam up and rippled out across the front of her mind. All but one.

“Anderson. Please...call Anderson and tell him to come here.”

“No need. He is in this room with you. He will return from physical therapy shortly.”

Lynn giggled. She giggled until her throat, raw from the feeding tube, coughed and hacked again. “That was funny, Cara.”

“...I’m sending for a nurse immediately.”

There was a bit of a bustling sound against the door, as if someone was fumbling around outside rather than simply turning the door handle. Eventually whomever was on the other side managed to get a grip. Archie, clad in a shoulder sling that seemed to stiffen and brace the shoulder, stumbled through the doorway muttering a string of shoot, dangit, and hell’s and shut it gingerly behind him.

He just about jumped out of his skin when he turned around and saw Lynn sitting up in her bed. The noise he made, halfway between a squeak and a yell, was almost pitiful if not funny considering the source was a five foot nothing girl… but Archie was not a brave man inherently. Not like she was.

“Lynn…!” he said, eventually regaining his composure. “You’ve been-” he trailed off, his mind racing somewhat. Between all of the things that had happened over the past several days and the last time he had seen Lynn, it… probably wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that she had gone in and out of consciousness more than a few times. Or that she had seemed to be in pain when she was. Or that she had said names of people that he didn’t know. People she had never mentioned to him. So in an act that was strangely emotionally intelligent for a man that habitually grabbed the hands of living suns and super strong girlfriends, he didn’t. At least not in that moment. “I- I’m glad you’re up. Are you, y’know, feeling okay?”

Lynn stared at Archie with one eye that flickered between light blue and soft red and sunshine yellow the sort of way she had never looked at anyone. You were always a stupid girl, Lynn thought, You thought he was like Che. “Back from the dead,” she said, coughing again. A nurse entered with a cup of water and some instructions and medical terms Lynn didn’t listen to. As long as she had a pulse and food in her stomach, she would live. Lynn sipped on the water slowly as she left, then put the cup on the table. “For a little while.” Lynn looked over at Archie, just looking for a moment. This will not get easier the longer you wait, she wanted to say, and she felt like the corner of the room, the visiting chair to her left that was gone to her sight - she felt like Che was sitting there, mocking her between sips of whiskey. “How are you?” she asked quietly, drinking more water. His hand is bandaged. He won’t get any closer to you. He knows better.

Archie shrugged, or at least tried too, moving only the unrestrained shoulder upwards. “It’s my first time taking a bullet. At least, when I’m not covered in scales.” he explained. He sighed but grinned for her benefit. “It felt weird. All that stopping power. Been hit all sorts of times, big brother used to beat the hell out of me when we were kids, but I didn’t even feel the bullet. One moment I’m getting ready to say hello to a bunch of new kids and the next I’m bleeding out on the floor.”

He laid on the floor staring straight ahead for what felt like a while but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. He saw people jerk and fall, some managing to hobble up or move. Some didn't. Amidst the chaos he saw Lynn get shot twice in the chest, the force of the bullets just about taking her off her feet. One landed home on Amelia's upper body, where her neck connected to her shoulder. She fell, and he couldn't see the damage and if it was fatal or not. His eyes flashed to Eli just in time to see a round enter and exit her left calf.

Archie shook for a moment, suddenly violently uncomfortable with the memory. “I, uh… I watched people die. Watched you and other friends get shot and- and apparently when I turned I-”

He felt his stomach flip, and he took several brisk steps towards Lynn’s side of the room where the sink was and released whatever he had eaten for lunch. He had killed people. He had killed people and he didn’t even remember their faces. People that had lives and families just like him that he had snuffed out just like that. Yeah, they were bad people who hurt other people. Who hurt him- but he couldn’t shake the idea that he was like them because he had killed them. He had almost killed Keaton and Eli and that Nic kid, too.

Archie reached up and turned on the sink when he was finished to run his stomach contents down the drain. He rinsed out his mouth too, but since that day… There was a muffled scream that was instantly choked as the power of Archie's jaws forced his teeth through skin and bone vice grip. Like being caught in a giant bear trap that rent flesh and shattered bone. He remembered the feeling of his jaws sliding shut.

“I can’t get the taste of blood out of my mouth.” he said, half to himself and half to Lynn. That thick, metallic taste seemed to hide in some hidden crevice. Faint but omnipresent and lingering like some hidden putrid scent.

Lynn watched and said nothing. He’ll have the Salamandra dreams now, she thought bitterly. If she had ever believed in Santa Claus, she would have felt like she was telling him the truth of it all now. There’s no magic under the tree. Just lights that go out when the timer’s done ticking. Even with one arm in a sarcophagus of a sling, his muscles tensed and flexed as he gripped onto the side of the sink. He was tall, and broad, but he looked younger and more scared than someone a third his size. Lynn didn’t know what to say. She realized, like she always did, too fucking slow. She wasn’t smart like Keaton. She couldn’t put it together in time. Not then, not ever. She should have told Archie this on the first day. “You need to get out of here, Anderson.” Lynn said, quietly, watching him. “Don’t go back to your room, don’t get your shit, don’t - “ she stopped, coughing again, placating her throat with another sip of water. “Don’t pass go. Just leave. This - the - “ Lynn felt her arm rattle as if she was slamming Salamandra’s head into the wall all over again - “it doesn’t go away. You just…” Lynn leaned back into the bed for a minute. “I mean it. I know I’m - just go. Get to the pods and - something, okay. This isn’t where you should be.” Lynn had not noticed her voice wavering. The morphine, the part of her that had stared Anderson down and wondered what he’d done to get put in those restraints on the first day told her. But the rest knew better. Archie was just Clarita and Megan a few years older, a few inches taller. “Please. Because - “ she stopped, turning away for a moment. She couldn’t gather her thoughts. Whatever they’d given her made them keep slipping away.

“That’s not really an option,” Archie stated. “Aint got no family or friends to go back to. Ma’s gone, Pa’s dead. Brother’s in jail. The night or two before I came here I woke up with my illegal step dad pointing a shotgun at my face, ass naked in the dead of night, caged and surrounded by a town that had tried to kill me.” That probably would kill him if he went back, he mused. “Lotta people come up here and have the worst separation anxiety cases recorded in human history. ‘Cause you leave everything you’ve ever known behind, y’know? Cara checks in on you every day to make sure you’re not curling in on yourself like-” like a naked man in the woods peppered with birdshot and burnt by torches. He breathed, hard and heavy.

Lynn bristled, listening to him. She hadn’t known. It twisted her even more, knowing - you never should have been here. You’re not a bad person. In a cage. He was a kid. It made her angry, angrier knowing there was nothing she could do. Someone should have kept you safe.

“...but coming up here was easy. Had nothing left. All I’d do is go home and die. Only difference is it’d be alone in the woods as opposed to not alone in the woods.”

He managed to pull himself together enough to push away from the sink and grab a chair, which he pulled up so he could sit next to Lynn’s bed. “You always talk about knowin’ things,” he began. “First day I thought you were gonna bite my head off just for sitting at the same table.” He almost did bite her head off. It turned his stomach again knowing that he would have. “But I don’t know much about you. You’re always acting like someone’s gonna slink out from behind and-”

He remembered how she acted when they found the body. No cops. How angry she got when Natalie had called them. How she had acted when they were interrogated after they were released. How she had jumped and burned him when he took her hand. How she was talking now, as if she knew shit that he didn’t. It bothered him to no end- because he had just physically and metaphorically spilled his guts to her and yet here she was telling him to do this, that, and whatever from some unknown position of authority. Archie was tired of not knowing Lynn. He was tired of calling her his friend when he knew she didn’t for a moment feel the same way about him. Normally he wouldn’t ask, or press. He’d be sweet, dumb, good kid little Archie. But not right now. Right now he deserved some answers.

“Who’s Che?”

Something inside Lynn went cold, cold like she’d never felt even on the floor of the cafeteria, and Lynn couldn’t look away. Ice cubes clinked in a whiskey tumblr, somewhere far away. This was it. This was pulling the oversized hoodie off her and showing how rail-thin and hollow her body was to the whole world. Who’s Che? “How - who…”

“Kept sayin’ it in your sleep. It and few others.”

Lynn leaned back into the pillow. Her first instinct was her oldest one, the safest one, to tell Archie to fuck off, to stop listening, to mind his business, that - but it passed. The bed beeped and the next dose of whatever liquid ecstasy they were pumping Lynn full of coursed into her, and the girl’s body temperature was low enough to keep it more or less chemically intact.

And somewhere in the fuzz Lynn had a crooked grin. It didn’t matter. She could tell Anderson anything. There were only hours left, now. The question was whether it would be Arianna or Gennedy or a handful of terrorists. Or maybe a nurse slips too much of this drug, and there’s one less headache for all of us. She’d always thought so - since the day she’d come onto the Promise, since the day she’d entered juvy, since the day she played lookout that first time - but she knew it now. There were only hours left. “Okay,” Lynn murmured. “It’s a long story.” Lynn was quiet for a few moments. It was impossible to answer. Who is Che? It was like asking how the sun rose and fell. You could say, “it just does”. You could break down the orbit of the earth. You could tell a myth. They’d all be true. Che just was. He was every ticking rule of the universe that kept things in line. He was more superhuman than she ever was. All true.

“When I was eight years old my hair was down to my waist because every time they tried to cut it the scissors would melt.” Lynn said. Her skin felt far away from her body, now, and there was some warm cloud that was filtering through all the memories and making them almost giggly. Lynn turned and stared at Archie and the warm cloud pushed away the knowledge that she was more wretched to look at now than she ever had been. She didn’t care. “I never knew my folks. I - isn’t it funny? You talk about your brother beating you and I’m jealous.” Lynn giggled, then blinked. She didn’t like this. She didn’t want the drugs. She fumbled at the needle in her arm but it wouldn’t move, her fingers wouldn’t grip. “I wish I hadn’t...I wish you hadn’t gotten put in that cage,” Lynn said. It was just juvy, really. The same as hers. Just different. They’d made Lynn get naked too, small and bone-thin and hosed down, her almost-bald hair sticking to her skull. “That wasn’t…” Lynn blinked, and the rush was starting to simmer. “I think I killed people when I was ten, Anderson. I threw a bottle. And they had me throw it because things burn better when I…” Lynn blinked again. She closed her eye and forced her thoughts into line, some kind of iron vise tightening around them. She opened it again softly, speaking slow. This was the only thing she thought she’d said that really mattered, aside from theories with Keaton, and even then nothing she’d said had helped. Always too slow, Che chided. “When...I mean, I don’t have to tell you. It sounds like your family was fucked. I didn’t really have any. I was in foster care from the minute they pulled me out. I - a lot, you know, are. Paras. When the first thing your mom sees is blue hair they…” Lynn drifted. “Anyway. Not a lot of homes kept me. Because I was a shit kid. Breaking stuff. I couldn’t...things burned and I couldn’t help it. I burned a house down, one time, on Christmas. They had candles, and I wanted to play and they…” Lynn fumbled with the needle, but it wouldn’t move. “You know my first name, Cordelia, it...it’s Shakespeare or some shit. It’s supposed to be the good little sister. I fucked that up, didn’t I?”

“I...when I was ten, I met Che. I grew up in a shit city, and in the shit part of that city, and...I dunno. Anderson I...there wasn’t anybody. Like even the other fuck-ups, at least, they weren’t para fuck-ups. And the only other para fuck-ups I knew…” she paused. “They go away. Here, or...I dunno. Here there’s always someone watching and listening. But when your school doesn’t have enough money to keep the lights on, it’s like...they can’t keep track. There’s not enough money. We never really knew. I guess now, they got caught up in gangs, or some fucker sold them off to a billionaire who likes their paras pint-sized. I don’t know.” Lynn breathed again, the world still fuzzy around the edges. “I keep...I keep dodging the question. Che’s not his real name, he...he called himself that. ‘Cause he led all of us. Like Che in the...the one in the books and stuff. He - he saw me on the street one day. And he asked me to do him a favor. I just had to keep an eye out. For just a minute. And…he was, he was the first one who saw me on the street and didn’t look away. So I said sure. And then there was another. And another. And it’s not, like, who the fuck else was there? I was in a different house every eight months because the microwave burned through the wall or I had a nightmare and singed the sheets, you know? And I was a shit kid on top of that, I stole and I - I fought kids. I was always little, and they - you have to show them you’re not a bitch, or... “ Lynn blinked again, unaware her head was swaying as she spoke. You’re making a fool of yourself, she heard, faintly, through the drugs, but that slipped away. “Anyway. He...he took me under his wing. I did things for him. I was happy to. I was good at something, now. And occasionally I’d have a foster parent who would keep an eye on me, but never for long. I got shuffled around. There were others, too. The names, I - Clarita. Megan. They were like my little sisters. I took care of them, you know. I was only eleven or twelve, but I could fight.” she sipped at the water, holding it to her chest, staring at the wall. “I fought, like adults. There was a warehouse, and I’d go, and they’d put down bets, and - and I always won, because no one thought I could. And you know what’s funny is Che always won those bets but we never had any money, figure that the fuck out.” Lynn paused for a moment, eyes flickering red, but it passed.

Despite himself Archie managed to snort a bit. “If I uh…” he said. “If I didn’t know you any better I wouldn’t have thought you can hit nearly as hard as you can.” This one had stood up to the lizard. He always had to remind himself of that- the two tiniest people he had met were probably some of the strongest in the world.

He scooted up a bit closer to the table and, as gently as he could, put his hand on her arm. Archie wasn’t sure what he was doing- in fairness though he rarely was. He just remembered a day many, many years ago when his adoptive father put a hand on his shoulder after lowering his actual father into the ground and it just felt… nice. He ran the pad of his thumb along her bicep but didn’t meet her gaze, more focused on the catheter in her hand. “Sorry I- continue.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be surprised by your weight class too,” Lynn said. When Archie put his hand on her Lynn tensed, but took a breath and kept going, nodding. “I...I don’t know. It was a gang, I mean, but that’s not...people don’t get it. It’s like these were the only people that gave a fuck. The teachers just looked at you and you knew that they didn’t give a shit. You were the two or three kids every year they got to write off, because of course a few kids are gonna fail. And slowly the foster homes get in worse and worse parts of town, and sooner or later I don’t know anybody who ever really gets out. I don’t know anybody older than nineteen or twenty. I wound up in - this guy named Gary, he was my last foster parent. This guy was a piece of shit.” Lynn started chuckling again, wheezing. Cara had told her a funny joke about Gary a while back. “Heh. Sorry. I just remembered something funny. He - he tried to do things. And...he got burned.” Her tone had melted back to serious before she knew it had. “I...I freaked out. I went to Che. And he said that was fine.” she paused for a moment. “Because we had that, over him, you know. Like blackmail. And he - he couldn’t do anything about it. And I thought that wasn’t right. But I said...I said okay. So from then I was with Che all the time. I didn’t have to check back in or anything. And that just became everything. I stole stuff or broke into cars. We jumped people. I kept doing the fights. I helped Che expand. See, the other gangs didn’t have any paras, because that brought the feds down on you. But we were small enough to get by. There was always just one more, one more thing, you know. One more wallet. One more deal. One more fight. But like, he told me, I was always keeping us safe. I was doing the right thing. I was keeping clothes on Clarita and Megan. Like if we could just get a little more we could fix it all. And every time it was a little bit more. A little more...I don’t know how to…” Lynn paused again, shaking. The drugs were swirling in her head. “I wanted him to be proud, Archie, I wanted to be good at something. I wanted...I wanted him to want me...no other guy ever wanted to touch me…he just always knew what to do, or to say, and he could make anything sound like a good idea. And it was, it...” she drifted off again, quiet for a few moments, before she found herself. “Eventually, I...I get to be fifteen or so. And Clarita and Megan, they’re like, they’re like the kid sisters I always wanted, but they’re not really kids any more. I taught them how to tie their shoes and walked them home from school when they still went and everything, you know. And I’m walking back from something one day, and it’s late, way too fucking late, but I haven’t been to school in a month at this point, and Clarita - she’s, she’s Che’s sister - she and Megan are waiting on the sidewalk. And they’re, like, waiting. Not just dicking around.”

Lynn stopped again, steadying her breath. “I...he’d put them out there, to...to.” She couldn’t finish the sentence. “His own fucking sister. I went right to him. I said what the fuck was the point, of, of picking pockets and mugging people and everything if this is what we were doing? It was the only time I ever said anything back to him. Everything else I just said okay, because I thought he knew, but - and I could see in his eyes he was angry, he was so fucking angry, but he said okay. And I believed it was, because I wanted it to be. Because who the fuck else was there.”

Lynn shifted her weight and pulled up the hospital gown, just an inch or two. Her legs were bare, short and pale, and the vicious scar on her knee stood out clearly. “So about a week later, Che says there’s a job we gotta do. Just the two of us. Down at the warehouse. Is it a fight? I ask. No, he says, just roughing up some guys. Nothing I hadn’t done a thousand times before. We go. I go in first, like we always did when we were breaking in somewhere, because I could take the hits, you know, and I go in, and there’s like three dead guys in there. Rival gangs, I don’t remember which, and they’re all burned. Burned bad. They’re dead. And I go to say, ‘What happened?’ and there’s a gunshot. And…” Lynn laughed again, as bitter and empty as a laugh could be. “And my first thought was, they’re behind us, they got somebody behind us. And I tell Che to shoot them. But there’s nobody else.” She paused for a minute, breathing. “And that’s not the kicker. The kicker is he stands there for a second until we hear the sirens. And then he goes. They take me away and the whole time I can’t - I can’t make sense of it. I didn’t get it. There was just some puzzle piece I was missing, you know? Because I was fucking stupid. And so I’m in holding, and I’m talking with the public defender, and the whole time I’m thinking if I could just talk to him we could sort this out, something didn’t make sense. But it made sense. Sooner or later I was gonna say no. Sooner or later I was going to realize I had more firepower in my left hand than he had in the whole gang. And sooner or later I was going to put those together, and he put it together before I did.”

Lynn emptied her water cup but held it closer to her, shaking. “So we go to trial, and I keep thinking, surely - surely one of them will say something. How could I have done that, you know? There’s - there’s no way. And there was a slew of other stuff, arson and shit, anything in the area they could throw, because nobody wanted to think about paras running around uncontrolled. And…” Lynn stopped again, her whole frame shaking. “Not one of them did. They all got up, they’d been busted for some dumb shit a week after, and they all flipped. All of them swore I’d done all of it. My guy, he even proved, like, I would’ve had to be in two places at the same time for half of it, but….but they all swore. They all swore to God. I couldn’t look Che in the eyes. I still thought there was something I did wrong. I just had to sit there and listen.” Lynn stared ahead for a minute. “I taught her how to tie her shoes, Anderson. She told those people I put her out there.” she took another deep breath. “Then juvy. Then...then here.”

She drained what was left of the cup and put it back down. “I don’t know shit,” Lynn said again. “I just know one thing. If you put anybody in that position they do what they do.” She turned and looked at Archie. “I thought you were running some game on me, you know. The first time, in the hospital. But I was wrong. I was really wrong. You’re the kind of person who throws up after what just happened. Not the kind of person who burned a house down when he was ten.” Lynn stared at him. Maybe this is it, she thought, swimming to stay coherent through the drug-induced stupor. Maybe you never get to any of those fucking kids but you can get to him. Let one decent fucking person get out of here. Christ if you’re even real let me just have one thing. “Anderson you brought me flowers. No one….” she breathed again, trying to make the words say what she needed them to, but they wouldn’t, they never did. “Each time,” she said, shaking. “Each time you - each time some shit goes wrong we’re both there, have you noticed. And I stayed away from you because I burned you, and I didn’t mean to, I just…” she closed her eye again and focused. “Anderson we’re not gonna both keep getting lucky, okay? And you don’t need to spend the rest of your life throwing up in the sink. You’re a good person, you’re not...I…” she paused, and it was the moment, the Che thing, it all could’ve been a lie, some morphine-made fever dream, but this was it. She reached over and grabbed Archie’s hand and leaned in close, close so that Cara couldn’t hear, she prayed, she dared, and whispered, “I killed Salamandra, Che. When she said she was going to - to rape you. She begged me not to. But I did. And then she blew up and those people died. Because of me. And in the cafeteria. I...I lit one of them on fire, after he shot me.” her fingers were numb but she dug them into him with all the strength she could muster, but she knew it wasn’t enough, it never was. “It was a kid. He burned to death, Archie. I killed him. You can still get out, and I - I - I know back home, there’s no fucking home, but you’re not a bad person yet and that’s what this place will make you. People like me and people like you can’t...you’re always gonna get burned. And I don’t want to burn you. And I think sooner or later something worse than that is gonna happen. And I…” she pulled away and leaned into the pillow, shaking. “I hope it’s me. I know what I am. I hope it’s not Eli or Keaton or Amelia. I hope it’s not Natalie. I hope you don’t know that’s what we’re all like deep down. But somebody will. You’re the kind of guy who walks through the door first. And we always get shot, Anderson. Always. Please get off the station. Just find somewhere. Anywhere else. I know - I know back home is shit but you…” she closed her eye, trying to breathe. She was out of breath.

“Lynn.” Archie said, effectively cutting her off with a firm but incredibly gentle tone. She was feeling the drugs they were giving her and he knew it, but he hoped beyond hope that she would understand him- or at least would remember. Maybe what he did next was stupid, given what had happened last time. Given what she had told him. Given that it would very well blow up in his face a validate every one of her fears for him- but he slid his hand from her arm to under the small of her back and hugged her as best he could with one arm.

Lynn didn’t have hair like normal girls, and she didn’t smell like perfume or shampoo. She smelt like ozone, and smoke, and cinders. She smelt like some of the nicer memories that he had as a child- in the woods with friends and acquaintances getting blasted out of his mind and throwing up on the beach. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and waited to speak- to feel the heat that her whole body emanated from every pore. It was subtle, but a comfort that was unlike any other person that he had ever met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. He felt her go stiff as a board, but he didn’t pull away. He held her there, close and intimate until he felt the weight of her arms settle on his back.

“Bad things happen.” he mumbled into her neck. “But you aren’t a bad thing. I’m so glad that I met you.”

It was a simple sentence, but it carried weight to it that many didn’t. To give someone that gift of just being right there. To say what was happening. You’re a great friend. You mean a lot to me. You make me happy.

He pulled away, but kept his hand on her shoulder. He believed her now. At least, more so than he did before. If Lynn thought that they needed to get off this ship then, well, she was probably a lot better at sniffing out a shit situation than he would ever be. She was smarter than him, and more experienced, and he knew it. “I know you don’t trust easy. But… if we get off this station and go… somewhere, if I walk through those doors first… you better have my back. Every step. You hear me?”

He breathed and met her eyes. Well, eye. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

Something in her twisted, around and around and around, and Lynn could not begin to tell where the knot began or where it ended. Her heartstrings and her gut and her ribs were all bound tight, so tight she couldn’t breathe. She had let herself, for just a moment, hug him. Just relax in it. It was all she wanted. Then it was gone. You aren’t a bad thing. I can’t, she wanted to whisper. Nobody can, Archie. Lynn couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him that. He’s too dumb to know, she thought. I’m just another Che. “Anderson,” she said. “If you get the chance to go you take it. I…”

Lynn paused. She closed her eye. She tried to pull back that feeling, of the hug, when she was a good person for a few heartbeats that drummed against each other. If I was beautiful, Archie, would...could it…? “Okay,” she said softly. I will burn for this before everything else. “Can you get the others? Are they - “ she hadn’t considered they weren’t alright. The drugs, she wanted to blame, but she knew the truth of it. Ice cubes clinked. “I...we should all meet up. Keaton will know. Where we talked about throwing flour on the floor.” Lynn could not meet his gaze. Just one more lie and it’s over, she thought. It’s better to lie to Anderson now than...than he gets in a situation where he has to be like me. If they met there, they’d wait a few minutes. Of course Lynn would be late. Keaton might suspect something. She was early, normally, but maybe she’d be lucky. Maybe Keaton would need a minute to piece it together. Maybe Eli or Amelia says not to worry. But sooner or later Keaton figures it out. Lynn’s not coming. If Lynn could come to the conclusion she had - that things were fucked, fucked now and fucked until they were all dead - they had to get off. And she’d know Lynn couldn’t go. Not when there were dolls left in the woods. And - Lynn prayed - she’d run the math on that, and realize it was smarter to -

Through the drugs, Lynn forced everything soft and swimming to turn to iron. Hold it together, she wanted to scream. Just a few more minutes. You won’t fuck him over. You won’t let that happen. But if you all have to stay together you will. You burned him before. Just like the kid you murdered.

Archie nodded. “I’ll gather the troops,” he said, but instead of jumping up to his feet and running off to start their mission, scooched a bit closer to the bed. “I’ll send the text. In a while.”

Archie leaned forwards and hugged Lynn again. She was doped up, and probably wouldn’t remember it, but he wanted to show her. To show her that he trusted her, and that he trusted that she wouldn’t burn him. For now they- or at least she, would rest. “We’ll go together in a while.”

Lynn’s heart sunk into her stomach, but it raced at the same time. The part of her that played with candles at Christmas lifted an arm up around Archie. This was not too much to ask for. Even if she lied. I begged you to fucking listen, Anderson. She turned, feeling his warmth against her. She was not used to feeling someone else’s warmth. I burned you, she wanted to say. [/i]I killed a kid.[/i] But the other part of her wanted to grip tighter. Somewhere in the delirium of the painkillers, a part of her wondered if he would tell a soul if she twisted his face to hers and pressed her lips against his. I would’ve kept you safe. Are my lips warm as the rest of me, Anderson? And for a half-blurry second her hand started to, but she stopped. The cold knot in her stomach pulled her back. Che would be proud, wouldn’t he? Lying to the boy one minute and kissing him the next? Lynn pulled back, blood thundering in her head. I’ll fuck it up, Anderson. I’ll fuck it up. Why can’t you just fucking go. Just one thing. The others swam into her mind. Amelia and Eli and Keaton. She hoped they’d made it. She hoped they got off the Promise. Some people could make it out.

It was just that Lynn was never going to be one of them.

---

Some time passed, and eventually everyone’s phone dinged- the same group chat that had been used on Homecoming night.

Archie Anderson: Hey, Lynn and I need everyone to meet up. Where Keaton said they should spill flour on the floor. Ask Keaton if you don't know where that is and don't see any of us on the way.”

---

Eli was alone. Surrounded by pitch black nothingness except for little stars that danced across her sheets and legs. She was sitting in a bed, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. There was a presence, somewhere out in the dark. Her eyes drifted lazily as they searched. Her body felt heavy. Her calf was like a tight ball of muscle. She thought of nothing but to find the source of the presence.

What was out there? Was it her mother? Was it Radvi? Keaton? Lynn? Her head turned to look behind her, but there was nothing behind the headboard but the same blackness. She frowned. What kind of place was she in? Am I dead? Disappointed and lonely, Eli turned back around intent on burying her face in her knees. She looked out into the expanse one last time, and her eyes finally met what she was looking for.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to race. She wanted to run, but her body was heavy and didn't move an inch. She was stuck. She could only stare into the eyes of the beast that stood in front of her bed and let her mind run for her. Archie... please.

A bloodcurdling scream erupted from every direction, but it wasn't her own. The darkness suddenly vanished and all that was left was the monster and the constellations that danced across his face. She heard a tray clatter to the ground, and the panicked cries of a woman. Run, she thought, briefly wondering if it was the girl from the loading bay. Run!

She was waking from a nightmare, but the beast didn't go with the dark. It remained in her hospital room and stared at her with wild eyes. In the corner of her wide-eyed vision she could she a nurse stumbling backwards towards the door. Eli wanted to go with her, but she couldn't move. Her head was swimming. No... Archie stopped himself. He isn't here. This isn't real...

"Amy, what's wro-" Another nurse rushed in, but immediately stopped short at the sight before her. "O-Oh... U-Uh... She's using her power... I-it's nothing but an illusion." She didn't sound confident, but she was right.

An illusion?

Eli blinked, and the beast was gone. She was coming to her senses, even if her head still felt dense. Her eyes shut tightly and she focused all of her will on keeping the beast away. Her hand slowly moved up to run itself across her face. "I... I'm sorr.." She couldn't form a sentence.

"I can't be in this room unless she's sedated, Chelsea!" The first nurse shouted with a shaky voice. "I can't deal with this type of para. They can't control themselves when they're like this. You saw what happened to her on the broadcast. Imagine what she's dreaming of. I can't do it!" She was practically spitting her words as she stormed out of the room.

Broadcast?

Eli opened her eyes again, squinting into the bright room. It was actually quite peaceful looking, now that Eli had a grip on reality. She looked up at the ceiling and felt shame coat her mind in a fresh seal of wax. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she heard the remaining nurse walk over to her.

"Don't mind her, sweetie." The voice was soft, but Eli could pick up that she too was scared of the girl in the bed. She felt the light touch of a hand on her wrist. Her pulse was being taken. "The anesthesia should be wearing off soon. Your surgery went well. You should be up on your feet in a day or two." Eli swallowed, the events of the welcoming day flashing briefly through her mind. She flinched, and the nurse flinched too. "W-well, how about I get you another tray of food and some water. The IV can only do so much." Eli was silent. The nurse cleared her throat softly. "When you're feeling better, I'll let you call your mother. She's been worried sick about you."

Mom. Eli thought, and she felt the tears spill over her bottom lid and down her cheeks.

---

An hour later, Eli had a full stomach and a clear mind once more. She sat upright in her bed, although her shoulders sagged beside her in a portrayal of how defeated she felt. She'd gotten a good cry in before the nurse came back with her lunch. Now she sat alone in the room with a full stomach, and her eyes stared at the portable phone that laid on the bed next to her. Inhale... Exhale. She breathed before picking up the phone and dialing. It rang for a while, and Eli anxiously picked at a loose thread in the sheets as she waited. She wasn't sure what she was going to say. There were a million thoughts that ran through her head. She only knew that her mother was aware of what happened, and that she desperately missed her now. There was a harsh click on the phone before a worried voice filled Eli's ear.

"H-hello? Is this the doctor? Is Eli awake? How did the surgery go?"

Eli's throat was tight, but she managed to speak. "Mom," she managed. "It's me."

There was a heavy sigh on the other line. Her mother sounded relieved. "Oh, Eli... Eli I'm so sorry, honey. How are you? Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I... I saw everything. I've been worried sick about you. Please tell me you're alright."

Eli closed her eyes and listened to her moms voice. As anxious as she sounded, her voice was still as soft and warm as ever. "I'm..." She wanted to lie to her mom. She wanted to tell her she was okay. After all, she only was shot in the leg. It was all better now, despite the white scar that remained. Even that would go away. But the memories wouldn't. That day kept flashing through her mind, in bits and pieces. The tears returned until she couldn't hold them back any longer. "Mom, it was awful," she croaked, beginning to sob into the phone. "These men came out, and all of my friends were getting hit-" She brought her hand up to rest her head into it.

"There was so much blood, a-and my leg hurt so much. One of them was going to kill this girl. She'd just gotten onto the station but I stopped him and then he was gonna kill me and-and I-I had to kill him and-" She caught her breath, and she could hear that her mother was crying on the other end too. "Mom, I killed him. He was right on top of me and I shot him. I-I'm a murderer."

"No, Eli, you're not." Her mom interjected, her words just as strained as Eli's. "He had a body camera on. We all saw you. You were so brave, baby." She sniffed. "That girl's alive because of you." Eli bit her lip. She was still shocked that her mother had seen her do it. That the whole world had seen her. She couldn't believe it. "I don't feel brave, mom. I didn't even do it on purpose. He came at me after I'd gotten his gun and I just squeezed and it was over." She shook, and the two sniffled over the phone for a while.

"I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so so sorry. You did what you had to. Those men did horrible things, and he deserved it. Your father thinks so too." Eli's breath hitched in her throat. She was silent for a moment, tears running down her face. "He does?" She asked, her voice small and fragile. "Yes, Eli. He called the second it was over. He's worried sick about you, just like me." Eli sniffed and wiped her sore eyes. "I don't know if I can talk to him, yet... Would you just tell him that I'll call when I can?"

"I will, sweetie. I will. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to. We can talk for as long as you want. About whatever you want. I just want you to do one thing." Eli sniffed again. "What is that?"

"I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened... And I want you to get as much rest as possible and call me whenever you feel sad. Can you do that for me, Eli?" Eli nodded, her free hand gripping the sheets beside her. "Yeah... I'll try." She could tell that her mother was calming down with every word she said. "Good, honey. Thank you. I love you so, so much. To the moon and back. To pluto and back." Eli managed a shaky smile. "To Andromeda and back." She could tell that her mother was smiling too.

"That's my girl."

---

A day passed, and Eli had the same nightmare again. This time the scream was her own, and the monster wasn't Archie, but the man with the gun. The same nurse from before, Chelsea, was the only one that came into her room. She managed to calm her down enough to give Eli her own cell phone to call her mother. The two women cried together again, but this time when she hung up the phone she felt much better than before. Still pretty shit, but better.

Another night or three passed and Eli dreamed again, but no illusions appeared in the room. She didn't even scream the last two times. When she called her mother on the fifth day, it was to tell her that she was being released from the hospital on a good bill of health. She cried again. Only because she wished that she was going straight home instead of to her lonely apartment. She wanted off of the station as soon as possible. She'd heard a rumor that a shuttle of supplies were going to arrive in a month or so. Surely they would allow some students to return to Earth with it after what had happened. She just needed to talk to her advisers and apply to leave. That wouldn't be too hard, would it?

She stepped out of the hospital, once again wearing borrowed scrubs because the clothes she'd worn into the hospital were covered in blood. Outside it was oddly quiet. She could see the sun shining through the station's glass panels. The spire's white hull glinted in the sunlight, and Eli swallowed. She recalled her little investigation a while back, and she made a note to text her lead once things were settled. She began to walk towards her apartment. Each step with her healed leg felt like it wasn't her own, but she was glad to be able to walk freely again. She recalled the times when she'd take walks just for the hell of it. Back before the breakout, when she just wanted some fresh air. Even after, when she'd walk the streets with Arianna's chip in her phone in search of revenge. Now she walked just to make it home. She wanted a long, hot shower, and a fresh set of sweats and a t-shirt. She just wanted to feel clean again.

She'd just made it almost three quarters of the way home when she felt her phone buzz in her hand.

Archie: Hey, Lynn and I need everyone to meet up. Where Keaton said they should spill flour on the floor. Ask Keaton if you don't know where that is and don't see any of us on the way.

Archie.

Eli immediately stopped moving. She stared at the screen for a moment, but all she saw was her friend morphing into what plagued her nightmares for the past five days. Her heart began pounding in her chest, and she instantly felt like she was back in the loading bay. No, no, no. Not here. Her head lifted, and she desperately searched for a place where she could be alone. She began to move and was soon sitting against a wall between two shops along the street. It was hard to breathe, but she made sure to take deep breaths in through the nose and out through the mouth to keep her pulse steady. She wasn't having a panic attack. It was somewhere in between that and a calm state. It was just PTSD. She'd been warned of this by Chelsea. It was sadly suiting that a text from Archie would be the trigger. She had to remind herself that last time she'd walked home in scrubs, Archie had been there to help her home. Her eyes closed, and she thought of those memories of him to keep her from thinking of what he'd become on welcoming day.

Would she go to meet him and the others? Could she handle seeing him so soon after what had happened? She'd thought about him a few times in the hospital, but she hadn't talked about him with her mom. Her mother didn't need to hear that side of the story. If anything, Eli wanted to put it far behind her. On one hand, Eli felt like she would carry that fear with her forever. That being close to him again would do nothing but bring that fear back to a boil. But, on the other hand, he was still just like her. Just like how her illusions were slipping into reality, Archie's ability had slipped out too. She'd come to the conclusion that he'd only reacted by instinct. That the monster was just a side effect of his own fear and anger. There was no way he'd been in control. She and Natalie were able to bring him back, in some way. The real Archie.

Thinking these things soothed Eli. She calmed down again, but she didn't open her phone to respond. As she continued towards her apartment with the intent to just visit Keaton to find out where the meeting spot was. She wanted to see how she and Amelia were doing. A brief memory of Radvi's comatose body in a bed made her think of Lynn's bloody face. It'd looked exactly the same as his. Was Lynn even okay to make it to a meeting? Surely she was, if Archie said that he and Lynn needed to see everyone. She was going right back to the hospital after she recuperated at home. She had to see Lynn before she did anything else. Before she faced Archie again. If Lynn was okay, Eli could be okay too.

Natalie Ellis

---

---

After helping the others get to the hospital, Natalie, as a key witness, spent the next several hours talking to Gennedy, filling him in on her version of events. After that, she went straight to her dorms and went to bed. For the first noght in a very, very long time, she got a good night-s sleep. She never once woke up screaming in a cold sweat, with her knuckles bleeding. She woke up at 10am, and she felt calm. Better than she had felt in a long time. And she knew why. She'd been pushed over the event horizon. So long of being scared of herself and paranoid and anxious until she could take anymore, and then...pop. It was all gone. Even when she thought about what she'd done. The people she killed. Not in self defense. She vividly remembered hunting down the gunmen, just like she hunted down the scientists of Project Lion. And now, in neither cases did she feel guilt, or shame, or fear of herself. She knew she was a monster, but now she'd let go of her fears and was....happy that she'd killed those people. This is what Project Lion made her when they broke her mind with two years of torture. She didn't need to be afraid of who she was. Didn't need to be afraid of losing control. Was she always in control now? Or never in control? It didn't matter. She now had mental consistency and didn't think she'd be flipping from one to the other extreme again.

Everything was going well until the broadcasts. They included footage of her callously hunting down and killing the gunmen in what clearly wasn't self-defense. It looked more like vengeance. And Natalie felt nothing watching it. And that worried her. She should watch this and feel sick. Just a little bit. But she didn't. And that wasn't normal.

And that's when she started to notice.

For the rest of the day, she was given a wide berth. Staff members watched her carefully. Other kids her age tried not to be within fifteen feet of her if they could help it. Everyone who saw the broadcast knew that there were people still in the Promise's prisons who weren't crazy or murderous enough to be able to do what Natalie did, the way she had done it. Natalie wondered if they all thought she should be in the prison too. Maybe she should be.

By the second day, the distance and the stares, and the mutterings were starting to grind on her. She started to get increasingly irritable and at several points snapped at people demanding that if they had something to say, say it. They would always flee. She sighed. Later that day her therapist had a guard standing behind her and explained that he was a nullified. Natalie didn't listen to another word, and walked out of the room.

The next days followed a similar pattern. By the fourth day Natalie was starting to get used to it. She still went out every day, went shopping, started putting more care into her appearance, dressing better. Screw trying to fit in. She was free of fear for the first time she could remember. She was determined to have fun to spite this atmosphere.

Then, Natalie got a text out of the blue one day;

Archie Anderson: Hey, Lynn and I need everyone to meet up. Where Keaton said they should spill flour on the floor. Ask Keaton if you don't know where that is and don't see any of us on the way.

She grinned. Finally, her friends were meeting up! She was looking forward to having a social life again. To take advantage of her newfound mental peace to truly enjoy other's company. And she did want to see Archie again, but she wouldn't know how to broach the subject of how badly she'd fucked up their relationship before it started. Meeting in a group was preferable to her right now. But what did this Keaton clue mean? Natalie then texted Keaton.

Natalie: Hey, so I just read Archie's text. Any idea where he's talking about?

Cordelia

Lynn lay next to Archie for as long as she would let herself. Why did he have to stay? Why? Why couldn't you make this any easier?

Lynn leaned back, unable to keep her mind from what it always did. There was always another corner. There was always an angle. The girl was jumpy. The girls who weren't didn't last particularly long in parahuman juvy.

Juvy. Christ, if those bitches could see me now. I'll bet anything any one of them could eat Paw Patrol upstairs alive and -

Lynn's eye opened. If Archie was paying attention, he would have felt her heartbeat triple in the span of a few seconds. Che was gone, for the moment, at the edge of her perception, right where the drugs were keeping all the pain, but they were wearing thin. Lynn let her mind race for just a moment, picking pieces apart and putting them back together.

Then she waited.

The waiting was the hardest part. Every few seconds, she would feel herself start to slip, and have to cement the cracks in her resolve over again. You have not done everything you've fucking done to pussy out now. They can get off. They have a chance. They need a window. Lynn closed her eye and focused, trying to think as far ahead as she could. Damn you, Denim. Why couldn't I have been half as smart.

Lynn feigned slumber, which was easy enough to fake, given that she dozed off for real. She woke when Archie was untangling himself to use the restroom, and Lynn forced the stupor to pass from the drugs. A second. Do you have to do this? He - he would come back, and lay down, and -

Lynn punched the call nurse button. The nurse came in smiling.

"Hey, ma'am," Lynn said, hoarse and croaking. "I have...it's...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called."

"No - what's wrong?"

"I just, um." Lynn turned away. The bandages over her face made it a lot easier. "It's...it's silly."

"Tell me. Do you need more pillows?"

"No, it's just - I know I've been here a few days, and, um, I could really use a toothbrush."

"A toothbrush? Of course, but - "

The nurse looked around the room for a moment, noting Archie's absence. She gave Lynn a quiet smirk. "Just a moment, sweetheart." The nurse disappeared and returned, a cellophane-wrapped toothbrush in hand. It was pink.

"Thank you," Lynn said with a smile. "I - " she paused again.

"Yes?"

"There's footage, isn't there?" Lynn asked. She let her head sway.

"...you don't need to watch that right now."

"I just..." Lynn shifted, making sure her tattooed arm was beneath the sheets. "I'm worried my parents might, they..."

The nurse came over and gave Lynn a kiss on the forehead, pulling her in an embrace. It was all the opportunity she needed, really. She felt something she'd never felt before - the same iron twist in her gut that she'd felt lying to Anderson. Damn this, fuck all of this, I have to do this, stop being a pussy about it. Christ, you are not going soft now. Lynn put a hand on the back of her head, holding her for just a moment more.

The nurse pulled away and brushed a strand of Lynn's hair out her face. "Just get some sleep, okay? I'll hold him up in the hall if you need a moment to brush your teeth."

Lynn gave her a smile.

The nurse returned to the hallway, short her ID card and a hair clip.

"See, Clarita, you do it smooth, so they don't notice, not until you're in the clear," Lynn murmured, pulling the tube from her arm and blinking a few good times. "Now you try. That guy's got a rolex. Rolex. Hey, the fuck happened to Fish?" Lynn shook her arm, unsure if it would make the drugs wear off faster but it at least felt like it would. She grabbed the notepad from the bedside table and the pen. Archie would be back quick.

Her heart thudded in her head again.

Just one more lie, Lynn told herself. Then you don't have to bother them anymore.

Or she could tell the truth. Half of it.

Anderson,

I'm going to see my dealer. Go to the picnic table by the woods down past that coffeeshop we Lynn felt the twist again. He brought flowers. went to last time you busted me out.

It curled tighter.

See you guys soon.

Then Lynn hobbled barefoot to the door and slipped into the hallway.

---

The supply closet took the card, but the clothes cabinet took the clip.

Lynn held the toothbrush in-between her teeth, stripping and staring at the racks. The sanitized air was cold on her bare skin, but she couldn't help but look for a moment.

The smallest scrubs still dwarfed her.

"Thmfck?" Lynn spoke around the brush, shaking her head and tying the strings around her waist an extra time, rolling up the cuffs. Where'd my hoodie go?

---

There was a stairwell Lynn stumbled into, her senses recovering quickly. She felt her hair warm around her, more intensely, the light on the concrete walls dancing to meet her. How much food had they pumped in her the last few days? Enough? Lynn ran through the steps in her mind again. She might make it work.

She found what she needed. There was a concrete corner.
Scrape. Scrape.

"Cell block e," Lynn mused. "How proud you'd be."

---

Radvi's room was unoccupied. There were dying children and he was a vegetable if ever there was one.

"Don't worry, fuckface," Lynn said. "I'm gonna do your job for you." Lynn leaned in close and put the shiv to his head. His hair had grown out. Lynn sliced a bit off, and then cut off a piece of her gown. She pricked his arm - perhaps a touch more forcefully than was strictly necessary - and dabbed it in the blood. Lynn grabbed the notepad beside his table and scrawled two messages. The first was simple - RADVI WAS RIGHT. MASS KILLER ON PROMISE. KIDS IN HOLDING. STAFF DOES NOTHING. MUST HELP. She wrote the day's date on it.

Lynn paused. No, that wouldn't work. They wouldn't give a shit, the cops would only care about -

Ah.

Lynn thought for a moment, two, heart pounding and sweat running down her brow. Anderson would be back any second now, she had to just do it.

THEY'RE GOING TO CRASH THE STATION INTO THE EARTH. SEND HELP IMMEDIATELY. DON'T STOP ESCAPE PODS.

She paused for a moment. The iron coiled again around her gut.

TELL THEM I'M SORRY. TELL -

"Stupid," Lynn said, picking up the pen. "Stupid."

Lynn folded the note and tucked it into the scrubs pockets. She jotted again.

"Cell block e," she muttered. "How ashamed you'd be."

WE ARE ALL DEAD. RIGHT ABOUT ARIANNA. GETTING ELI/others off SHIP. THEN GOING FOR KIDS. HELP ME OR YOU'RE NEXT. -LYNN FUCKING HOLMES."

Lynn folded the note and tucked it under the cop's body. She paused for a moment, checking the sheets. Fresh. She had a day before they switched them. Or was it twelve hours? Eh. Long enough.

"Wakey wakey," Lynn said, turning and walking out.

--

Lynn walked down the hallways quickly and with purpose. One of the few times she had felt blessed with the body she was given was now - even with flickering hair, a five foot girl is easily lost in the crowd of a hospital in times like these. She fumbled to avoid being impressed into service with moving a stretcher down the hall and kept moving back towards the stairwell, doing her best to project as many inconspicuous vibes as she -

"Lynn Holmes?" a voice asked.

"Oh, fuck me," Lynn whispered, turning back around.

The doctor stood there, pamphlets in hand. "I heard you were - "

"I was on my way to the cafeteria."

There was a moment of silence and Lynn felt her hand tighten in her pocket. Christ if this is how I get -

The doctor embraced her in a hug, patting the side of her head where her eye was missing. Ow. "I'm so, so proud, Lynn, we've really gotten you so far, and - "

---

Lynn stepped out of the hospital and took one beautiful second to breathe in deeply.

"Cara, where is Isaiah Marlon's dorm?"

"I must inquire as to the nature of this visit."

"I need to see if he's alive."

"He is."

Well, what was another lie. "Do I need your permission to get a survival fuck out of somebody? You don't see me stopping you from doing your thing every time somebody hits control alt del-"

"West Wing, third floor, room seventeen."

"Thanks."

The thanks surprised even her. Lynn didn't dwell on it.

--

Two knocks.

The door was opened a crack, and Isaiah fumbled with the lock for a moment.

"Christ, I thought you were dead - Jesus, you look dead."

"You know what to say to a woman."

Isaiah looked her over for a second. "Hey, why are you in scru - "

Lynn lunged forward, slamming the door behind her. She felt Isaiah's power hit her as soon as she did. Nullifier. The fire went out of her hair suddenly the pain of the left side of her face was all she could feel. That, and pissed off.

Lynn turned and pressed the shiv to his gut.

"Oh,"

"You're a terrible fucking weed dealer."

"Please, I - I don't - "

"Money. Weed. Now."

"Are you serious? I - "

Lynn pressed. To her credit, gently.

"Okay, okay, under the - "

"Bitch, you think I'm getting it?"

Isaiah fumbled, handing it to her.

"Oxy too. And the pills. Whatever you got."

"That's al-"

Lynn stared with force disproportionate to her height.

He returned.

"Good. You should probably tell Cara or somebody about this."

Isaiah stared at her in disbelief. "I was gonna cut you in, you know, but -"

"But you're a dipshit. No hard feelings. Oh, yeah, give me your clothes."

"The ones I'm wearing?"

"I meant - " Lynn smirked. "Actually, yeah, that's kind of funny."

"Fuck you."

"Christ, you're a poor sport. Give me the smallest shit you have."

Lynn turned and closed the door behind her, passing back down the hall as quick as she could.

As she walked, she slipped the note in the bag with the weed, and slipped the painkillers in her back pocket with the cash. A few hundred. Might be a few palms left to grease.

Then Lynn left.

--

"We're closed."

"No you're not."

Lynn smacked the cash down on the counter, eyes wide. For a second, she let herself feel like a little kid again, like she had before she'd made the candle dance, two nights before Christmas.

The clerk sighed and rang her up.

--

"FUCK!" Lynn whispered to herself. The faded [i]CAMP MOON LAKE[i] t-shirt was too big on her, so she had knotted it at the waist, and the jeans were cuffed up once or twice. She would've kicked a trash can if she had one ounce less of restraint. She gnawed on the back of her hand, thinking. Her brand new sneakers fit snug and cozy, and the leather jacket, although also too big, was comforting. It was nice to have something slightly tougher on her. A little more time. A few more hours. They have those guns. I just need a little more time.

"Cara," Lynn murmured.

"Yes?"

"They have arts and crafts shit here?"

"...please specify."

"Like, pots."

"Kitchenware?"

"No, I mean, like, pottery."

"...you're an artist?"

"Yeah."

"You're an artist looking to enroll in arts classes."

"Yes." Lynn couldn't resist. "As a student, not a teacher. But I'm probably qualified." beat. "I'm, like, real passionate and shit."

"...there is a ceramics course, yes."

"They, like, open?"

"...I suspect my answer is irrelevant to your next course of action."

"Christ. Where at?"

"The art wing, first floor, third room on the right. I trust you will use the kiln responsibly."

"The fuck is a kiln?"

Lynn leaned back against a post, thinking. Bulletproof vests had that shit in them. If she could, like, duct tape some in there, it might stop those tasers. She only needed it to work once or twice. Or maybe duct tape? She could bind the whole thing in duct tape and that might stop it. These Gennedy-sucking fucks probably had something stronger. Lynn was not about to believe for a moment this had nothing to do with whatever powers that be. They keep getting Anderson mad. They keep letting things like this happen. There's some angle. I don't know what.

Didn't matter. "Focus," she thought, hand on the bag in her pocket. Dogs would smell that easy. Surely they had as much security on stuff coming back as they did going out. Lynn squinted. The inside of her eye socket was itching like crazy, and she could not figure out why.

Payback for killing a kid.



The docks were crawling with security. "You stupid bitch," Lynn said, turning idly and walking back away from the cafeteria area. Things were on high alert, and why wouldn't they be. They were probably still cleaning up brains from - you better have my back

"Fuck," Lynn hissed, turning back and walking away for a moment. She ducked behind a secluded corner near a bathroom and stood still, chewing on her hand. There was no way to get the bag anywhere near anything that would get shipped back. It was a hail mary if Lynn had ever thrown one, but there wasn't anything else. Her worthless fucking case manager never wrote back on that email, and they were probably checking them now, anyway. If the others were doing what they were supposed to, they'd be hopefully trying to break through here and leave soon anyway.

She could give it to one of them. No. Don't be a coward now.

Lynn took another breath. She had to find a way to get this shit in some kind of cargo. Christ, if she'd only asked more questions at Vaquero. Keaton could piece this together. Or Amelia could just warp her over. Eli - well, that'd be a fucking cakewalk. Boat Farmer probably, like, ran moonshine or something.

"Jesus Christ," Lynn sighed. "Even Spoons would be helpful right now. We'd have to, like, hold hands after, but she'd. Fuck. Fuck." Lynn leaned back against the wall, her desperation only matched by her anger. "I did not just fucking hug that bullshit doctor to get stuck here. Think. Think."

And think fast. They can't find you. Gennedy or the others. Either one stops you.

Amelia

---

Amelia had gotten lucky. Really lucky. She had been brought to the hospital fast enough that they had been able to begin treating the gunshot immediately, and quickly start patching the burn. For the first day, she had essentially been in and out of surgery, having skin grafted over the burn. Amelia vaguely remembered giggling to herself from the painkillers, something about how her ass was now part of her shoulder. Whatever it was, Amelia didn't quite remember it anymore. Since coming off the real heavy stuff, she had been almost obsessed with her new ability.

Days after the incident at the docks, Amelia was sitting in her hospital bed, looking down at her sketch book. Amelia was thanking her lucky stars that it hadn't been damaged in the firefight, but not just for the obvious reason. Amelia tapped on it a few times, eyes narrowed in concentration. She wasn't even sure why this obsession had gripped her, but it sure as hell had. Amelia felt the impulse to close her eyes while focusing, but she bit her lip to resist it. This was something she needed to be certain she saw.

It felt almost like flexing a muscle she never realized was there. Sort of like how she noticed her normal teleporting powers at first, but now she was feeling it was more then one muscle. It was like an entire extra limb in her head that she had never noticed. With another rippling scar in reality, the sketchbook suddenly vanished, reappearing on the desk. Focusing, Amelia did it again, and this time teleported the sketchbook right up to her face. For a split second, the scar flashed right in her face, and Amelia was now CERTAIN it was there. Amelia had known about the scar she left when she teleported around. She had scene it on footage of herself. But when Amelia had moved the chair back at the docks, she could almost have sworn she saw something that she never noticed before. And now she was willing to bet on it.

There was something inside the scar.

Amelia grabbed her fancy art pencil and began frantically drawing. If Amelia had been a scientist, she'd probably have wanted to try and ask for help about this. Maybe run some sort of experiment. Amelia, however, was and always would be an artist first. So she was going to draw this, whatever the hell it was. And so for a few good hours, Amelia sat there drawing, occasionally teleporting her book back and forth to get another glimpse of the thing that was definitely there, and was not her mind trying to latch onto something that wasn't five days ago, nope nothing like that at all.

---

Amelia had been drawing for a few hours when the text came in.

Archie Anderson: Hey, Lynn and I need everyone to meet up. Where Keaton said they should spill flour on the floor. Ask Keaton if you don't know where that is and don't see any of us on the way.

Amelia was pulled from her dazed drawing and couldn't help but beam. She's ok! Without skipping a beat, Amelia slid out of the bed and on instinct went for her jacket draped over the chair in her room. She hadn't even realized the problem until she had started to put it on. First of all, she was still in a hospital gown, and would be damned before she went out anywhere like this. Secondly, and far more pressing to her sensibilities, was that her jacket was almost completely covered in bloodstains. Amelia stared, confused at the sight, until it hit her. She smacked herself in the forehead out of irritation. Fucking right! I used it to try and keep her from bleeding out.

Grumbling to herself, Amelia pulled it back off, and without much of a scene simply teleported back to her apartment. "Fucking bullshit. Cleaning stains off this thing is SUCH a pain in the ass." Draping it on a hook in her closet, she quickly grabbed some clothes she could be presentable in, and changed out of her hospital gown. She looked fine enough, but Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that she was naked without her lucky jacket. Teleporting back to her hospital room, she quickly began firing off a text to Keaton. Almost on a whim though, Amelia stopped short. Something felt...off. If just Archie had been mentioned, Amelia wouldn't have thought anything of it. But Archie and Lynn? Something wasn't adding up. Lynn didn't strike Amelia the type to suggest meeting up together. Walking into the hospital proper, she asked a few doctors about where Lynn was, and eventually heard she had gone to the cafeteria. Brushing off concerns about whether she still needed to be resting, Amelia took off and fired off a text to Keaton.

Amelia: Hey, what the fuck is this flour place? I feel like this was from when I was in my....phase. Text me where it is when everyone shows up and I'll port in. Got something to take care of first.

With that, Amelia rounded a corner into the woman's bathroom, walked in a stall, and teleported off to the hallway outside the cafeteria. Stepping in, Amelia couldn't help thinking, Huh. I've never really used my power to get around this much. This is convenient as hell! Taking a look around, Amelia's suspicions were confirmed. Wandering back around the corner, Amelia slumped into a corner and tried her best to think. Was something wrong? Or was she just being paranoid? Could very well be the latter.

Amelia tried thinking back to the attack. There was the shooting, the teleporting. She might have killed a terrorist with an assault rifle. She bailed out as far as she could with Lynn....Amelia suddenly had an idea. Lynn had mumbled something about the docks while she had been bleeding out. The docks. Dolls and kids. Some guy named Che. But the docks was something coherent. And Amelia had a decent feeling that Lynn might be doing something particularly stupid. Of course, Amelia also realized that she was probably about to do something stupid as well. "Well, so much for self awareness having its day...." Finding another bathroom to wander into, Amelia stood on the toilet and tried to concentrate. The place would absolutely be crawling with security now, so she needed to be as precise as possible. Focusing as hard as she could on some of the upper rafters in the docks, she muttered to herself, "If I'm wrong I'm gonna feel so goddamn stupid." And then there was a crack in the world. And she was gone.

---

“Forty-seven calls?”

“Forty-seven missed calls today, yes.”

“And he knows everything. Because it was live-streamed.”

“That’s right.”

Keaton stared down at the blanket, her index finger dabbing at the raw flesh on her thumb, each tap managing a prick of pain that was more small than it was dull. “Okay.” A deep, painful breath in, then out as she sunk back into the pillows propped up behind her. “Okay. Call him.”

“—eaton? Keaton? Keaton—fuck—Keats—”

“Dad. Dad, I-I’m here.” A stab of pain informed her of her blood beading at her thumb, and she wiped it on the side of her hospital gown, clenching her hand and placing it on her lap.

“Oh, thank god.” Her dad’s voice grew faint—pulled the mic away from his mouth to continue repeating that line—before returning in full. “Keats, god, thank god you’re okay.” A quick exhale passed over the phone, and Keaton broke a small smile.

“Yeah Dad, I’m okay now. I’m checking out of the hospital tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But—you were shot, so—how—”

“No, I got grazed, not shot. The bullet grazed me”—and fractured a rib, which then moved out of place and punctured her spleen, the organ she ended up shredding by moving around, which would’ve compromised her immune system for the rest of her life if not for The Promise’s medical team, who went in and swapped her injuries out for a single large bruise that made it painful but necessary to take deep breaths—“but the doctors took care of it. I’m fine, promise. I just have a bruise left.”

“A bruise? How? Do they have… para doctors up there?” He was confused, but he was working it out, a hand on his forehead as he paced around their living room. Keaton could see each microexpression cross her dad’s face, her power confirming the scene for her, outlining his thoughts and worries. At what point was it considered a violation of privacy, her ‘guessing’? At what point did it cross the line, if she could near-guarantee herself getting away with lies?

“Yeah, Dad. They have para doctors up here. It helps with efficiency.”

There was a moment of silence as her dad thought over how to raise the next topic. He didn’t want to seem like an overbearing parent, and he wanted to believe—did believe—Keaton wouldn’t lie to him since honesty, especially between family, was one of the values he’d done his best to pass onto Keaton, but Keaton had a tendency to avoid topics, and he’d always figured it better not to pry, but this time…

“Keats, what exactly do they, uh, teach you kids up there?” her dad asked. Were they teaching paras to use guns? To use their powers to kill people? Those were the questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t, because he couldn’t see Keaton going along with that. Without telling him a thing.

Keaton paused. These weren’t his ideas. He’d read them somewhere—heard about them from someone. People were panicking after the liveleak, after seeing paras—kids—killing with such efficiency, and her dad hadn’t believed them, didn’t want to believe them, but… there’d been room for doubt.

“Dad, they don’t teach us to hurt people. The staff helps us develop our powers safely, to help us learn to control our powers, or help us learn to use our powers more efficiently, like in my case.” She sighed. “The machine gun, Dad, that was the first time I’ve touched one.” Which was true. She didn’t need to mention the handgun from the one firing range she’d gone to with some college friends. She didn’t need to mention a lot of things. “I used my power—figured out how to use it on the fly.”

There was a brief silence Keaton let sit. Because. Because she didn’t need to explain herself, she figured, because the ‘why’ was obvious. And her dad sensed that. Running his own business for decades in central Los Angeles did that. Her dad prided himself on his people skills, his ability to figure out what clients wanted before they could even put it into words, and for most of her life, Keaton had thought herself just a student to the master.

“Keaton, listen to me. You were a hero. You saved people, and you prevented more people from getting killed. Anyone who thinks they could’ve done better, well, I’d like to see them try. You were a hero. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His certainty made Keaton’s breath hitch, and she blinked rapidly, tears welling in her eyes, which flicked around the room before settling on her lap.

“Keats?”

“Y-yeah, Dad. I’m here, and… Thank you. That means a lot to me. Really,” she said, smiling as she wiped at her eyes. Thank god this was just a call. “I, um, I need to go now, but I, um, I’ll call you later.”

“Later. I’ll be waiting then,” her dad said, a smile on his face. He knew—a realization that made Keaton chuckle, prompting a chuckle from him as well. “Take care of yourself, kiddo, and keep up the good work.”

“You too, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended with a click, and Keaton sank back into her pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey, Cara, can you check me out?”

“Miss Plasse—”

“I’ll drink lots of water and keep breathing like a normal person, okay? I’ve been doing fine the last two days, even without painkillers. I don’t see why I need to stay here any longer.”

“Okay,” Cara said after a pause. “You’re free to go, Keaton, but I’m holding you to the drinking water and breathing normally.”

“Thanks, Caroline.”

---

School was out and her medical leave was still another few days, leaving Keaton with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Though it was tempting to end her medical leave and get right back into it, she held back. She was perfectly in the right for taking another few days off, and plus… she really did need to sort out her thoughts. Putting it off again would have been easy, but she’d already taken the easy way out. Multiple times. She figured she’d try the other way this time, which was why she was now sitting on her bed with her notes spread on the sheets around her. Lynn had been gone by the time Keaton checked out of the hospital, which was equal parts unsurprising and concerning. Worrying about Lynn, however, was about as useful as hoping she’d get better on her own, so Keaton chose to focus on prepping for their next meeting. How did what she’d learned so far tie into what she’d known before, and was the next step to continue stockpiling evidence or to finally take some action?

The Spire—that was central to all of what she’d learned in the past month, and it should have dominated her thoughts. Instead, she kept getting distracted. All along, she’d had one goal: getting off the ship. The ‘how’ was what she was searching for, and it was easy when she was innocent and the situation looked impossible. Now, though, she wasn’t innocent, and the situation didn’t look so much ‘impossible’ as it did ‘improbable’. The Promise was collapsing in on itself, as was its system. Paras killing in self-defense hadn’t gone over well, and now The Promise was teaching paras self-defense. In a more reasonable world, perhaps, this would all be a sensible reaction to the tragedy earlier that week. Unfortunately, Keaton lived in a world where people would sooner see her gunned down, and she was almost glad that The Promise’s firewall blocked out most social media sites. Who was to say what people were saying about her and her friends? Had she been branded as a terrorist behind closed doors, as a killer who deserved death? Her dad understood her, but that was her dad. What of his neighbors and clients? What of Keaton’s high school classmates and college friends? After this, was there still a life waiting for her back on Earth?

She’d killed in self-defense, she might argue, but it hadn’t been so black and white. She’d shot to kill, and she’d shot a man who was down. He’d been reaching for his gun, but no one could guarantee he’d have picked it up successfully. Perhaps he would have fainted first, or perhaps the blood-slicked gun would’ve slipped out of his hands. Her power couldn’t confirm for her now, and even if it could, paras didn’t do well in court. Plus, there was the possibility of her father getting targeted. He was innocent, but terrorists didn’t care about that. All it’d take is one rogue gunman, one armed fanatic.

What dominated her consciousness more than her father’s death though, was that moment. The moment when she was mid-hyperventilation, exhausted and bleeding out internally, when Archie had fixed his sights in her direction, his mind and jaws set to kill. The moment when she’d realized aiming the gun in her hands wouldn’t change anything, when it seemed neither Natalie nor Eli could do anything to stop him when she just… accepted it. She was going to die, and that was alright. That’d be the end of her hopeless quest to get off the ship, the end of the fruitless search for scraps to a larger plot that might not even exist. She’d no longer need to worry about Arianna and the Faceless coming after her, no longer need to plan around Cara and the surveillance system, no longer need to pretend that she was in control or that she mattered in the greater scheme of things.

Then, Archie stopped wanting to kill her, and Eli called her name. Then, the police arrived and Keaton was whisked away to the hospital. Then, she woke up patched up and in a drug-induced stupor with a doctor asking her questions she refused to answer until he filled her in on what had happened, and… now.

Her phone buzzed with a text, and she snatched it up. Flour—the park. But was this it? The big reveal, the moment they filled everyone else in for the last hurrah? There was no guarantee the Spire was where the kids were, was what they thought it was, and there was no guarantee the Staff and Arianna were who they all thought they were either. But, after the loading bay, Keaton could see the sense in clueing everyone in. Everyone’s life was at risk, and the more the merrier if that meant more people got out in the end. If Lynn felt that it was time, then so be it.

Picking up her notes took all of one minute, and she took another burning them in the sink, her phone in her hands. However things might go, she wasn’t about to leave a paper trail. Cara might be on their side, judging by the fact that security wasn’t busting down her door yet, but Keaton wasn’t about to make anyone’s life easier.

Coming up with the text took a few seconds, given that typing the exact location out seemed unwise. A moment or two later, Keaton came up with a satisfactory plan, and the text was sent.

Picnic time. See you near the woods.

“Caroline, when they open the message, can you tell them that it’s at the park down the street from Cianwood’s?” Keaton asked, walking over to her closet.

“I’ll pass it along, Miss Plasse.”

“And Caroline, you have enough recordings of my voice to be able to fake it, right?” Keaton asked, fishing a worn denim jacket out from the back of her closet. “If I die, can you fake me for my dad? Pretend I’m planning on staying on board and becoming the new architecture professor or something?”

“… Are you sure about that, Keaton?”

“Yep. Thanks, Caroline, and hopefully I’ll talk to you later.

T H E P R O M I S E

---

She was so close that she could taste success. Months of work and planning coming to fruition.

Arianna lived for that. The exhilaration of out playing and out maneuvering everyone at every step. Knowing exactly what everyone else was thinking because she herself was six steps ahead of them at any given time. Lying, and cheating, scheming, and stealing... whatever it took to get that rush. These days she didn't experience much else, and so she cherished that feeling that she could only equate to adrenaline. Feeling so little so often meant that she had almost become addicted to the chase- and with it the ebb and flow. Like a drug that hit so hard and felt so good with that weird sweet pain that it made the rest of reality seem blunted and gray. She busied herself, always.

Arianna however, did not view herself as evil. Just... uncaring. Or maybe even self serving. Sure, she had pulled a bank heist just last week, and she had killed and killed and killed... but she forged legal documents for people attempting to buy homes, filled out job applications for others who couldn't save themselves, serviced countries, removed warlords and despots from their positions, and had at many points aimed ammunition towards the right kind of bad people. She was, in her own mind, a free agent.

And with freedom came the Lucifer effect.

This was, as all things were, a job. The job was almost done. Get in, make subject ID 'Merlin' give a man the ability to go from human to parahuman at will, and go home to collect payment. She had, as she always had, cheated, schemed, and stole her way to the top. Quite literally too. 'Merlin' lived atop the tallest tower at the end of the highest point of the spire, kept behind a steel jungle full of locked doors, fingerprint IDs, and retina scanners. She had been tasked, a knight errand (well, more of a mercenary), to find Rapunzel. There was something poetic about that.

When she finally made it through those airtight doors of six foot steel she was greeted with a feeling that she hadn't felt before. It was alien and incredibly familiar. Arianna felt like she was doing something very, very wrong. As if she was a child in a government building she have no business being in. As if someone was going to come and arrest her somehow, or shoot her in the back of the head with one of those nullification weapons, at any second. Arianna tried to brush it off, but the feeling got stronger and stronger as she paced to the opposite door- steal and lead just as thick as the last door was, and that's when she realized that she couldn't hear anything anymore. Like some awful tinnitus that was far, far more oppressive.

And then she heard it, the soft hum of music that somehow permeated through those the sterile white walls thicker than she was tall. She approached the final door, which opened uncontested. The soft music didn't change in volume, impossibly. But she was greeted with another assault on her senses. The room smelt.

But it didn't smell bad. It smelt... good. Arianna's whole body ached in sudden agony, her equivalent of a thunderclap headache. Bergamot, a base of lavender, oakmoss, hints of patchouli. 'You've always loved this one. It's called Life's a Breeze'

It smelt like home. Memories she didn't have.

The door closed behind her (when had she walked through it?).

She remembers sleeping beneath the trees. She remembers dreaming. She remembers being happy. She remembers the ocean, the salty-sweet mists and the waves embedded with turquoise. She remembers a lavender sky, a setting sun. She remembers singing to the jaded hills and the thistle coated clouds. She remembers his laughter, which reminded her of cornsilk and wheat fields. I'll take you there someday, she wanted him to say.

She especially remembers his eyes, wide and bright when he smiled, full of promise and holding the innocence of all the world.

But what she remembers most is the silence of each early morning, when the sun rises one ribbon at a time and the whole world is at peace. She remembers sighing, she remembers smiling. The candy pink clouds make no complaint to her authenticity and absorb all the sound around her like cotton—all except for the beating of her heart, because the heart is never silent. It's almost strange; she flutters her hand over her skin, and the lack of stark silence telling of an empty chest tells her what she fails to believe. Its there, a heartbeat from an organ she quite literally no longer possessed. For the first time since, Arianna found herself truly missing that familiar sound. The thump, thump, thump—its absence had always been a sort of constant in her life, but it was different now. The subtle drum in her chest felt like a steady reminder of who she was and why she was and what she was meant to be.

"Ms. Jervious?"

Arianna was suddenly struck with overwhelming vertigo. As if up was down and left was up and right with diagonal. Her legs felt weaker and she suddenly needed to sit down. She fell back haphazardly- into the sheets of a bed. Her bed. She felt her fingers run over the familiar stitching and of her sheets. This was so wrong, and so right and so-

"Who, how, where-"

She forced herself to focus on the little boy in front of her. He had short, but nearly combed brown hair. He had soft features like all young children, but what struck her the most was his eyes. Big beautiful orbs, the one on the right a shade of blue that was almost iridescent, and the left a spring green that would make the fields of Ireland jealous. He gave her a toothy grin- the kind only children could give when they were too innocent for their own good.

"We're in Shanklin, on the Isle of Wight. Its... 2022, I think." the he explained. "I'm Matthew."

She looked at him strangely. This place was familiar. She had been in the UK so many times for various things but she had never been hit in the gut-brain like this before. She had just been in space, dozens of miles in the sky. Was this his home? "Yours, actually." Matthew said, replying to her thoughts as if she had said them out loud. Her head snapped from her surroundings to the little boy before her and it dawned upon her that she had traveled thousands of miles and back in time without even realizing it. All of this was not even to mention the the strange drum of familiarity that was in her chest.

"Matthew, are you who I think you are?"

The boy seemed pensive, but was truthful. "I am."

"Why are we here?"

"Because when I looked into you, I saw a million things that were lost."

Arianna's hand clenched the bed sheets at his mention of this. She gathered some of the blanket and pulled it up to her face. When she inhaled, she could smell the fabric softener and cleaner. The scent of her home, and the scent of herself. It was dizzying. "Why did you take me here?"

"Ms. Jervious, we never left The Promise."

"Then what is this?"

"I..." Matthew began, opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to form words. "I wanted to show you what you were looking for. I can't change the past but.. I can give you a snapshot."

She looked to the boy and realized at once that there was nothing she could do to him. In front of her was a reality warping, time hopping, perception defining being that- while in theory could fulfill her job, couldn't be forced to do a thing. He likely stayed on The Promise because it was all he had ever known. Just like how she had chased that feeling of superiority. To feel alive.

"And the view." Matthew said offhandedly. Arianna released her sheets and tentatively stood up off the bed she was seated on. It felt weird, standing on two feet again.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you wont remember it, but you'll remember the feeling." he said, almost too quickly. "And you have... a bigger part to play. So I wanted you to feel it again." he explained cryptically. He looked out the window of her room, a sad smile on her face. "I'm afraid whatever home down on Earth that you may have will be even less welcoming when you return." That caught her by surprise. Arianna hadn't often felt threatened. Even now when faced with a literal demigod, she wasn't feeling in any particular danger. However, there was a grave undertone to his little voice that rubbed her the wrong way. She hated when people did that- act as if they knew something that she didn't. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"That officer," Matthew said. "He started a chain of events that can't really be stopped now. You might want to look over the work of a certain Trevor Norton. His research might be of interest to you. More so than I ever was." Matthew explained. He gave her another sad smile and sighed. "Our time is coming to a close, Ms. Jervious."

"I don't want to go." she said without thinking. She didn't want to leave this. She didn't want to go back to being that. Not if she could just be normal again. She had always been jealous of how many other parahumans had kept who they were.

"I don't want to take you." he replied, and shook his head. "But... the final act calls, you don't want to miss your bow. Not for the part you've played."

And then, all at once, she was in that silent, stark white room again. That strange purgatory separated from the rest of reality by six feet of steel on either side. The doors leading to the room that she had been in but had never seen were closed. If she listened really hard, she could hear the music playing. There was a beat, and for reasons she couldn't discern she raised a hand to her chest and was greeted with more silence.

She turned on her heel and marched with a mission. Away from the music and the mission. She couldn't remember why, she couldn't even remember past half an hour, but she could feel that it wasn't the right course. Not anymore. She had a new objective: Figure out who Trevor Norton was, and what part he played in all of this.

It was time for a whole new game to begin.

---

"Lynn Holmes... Lynn Holmes. Oh, that girl. It says here that she was scheduled for release today or tomorrow, but I guess she decided to leave on her own. She's been gone for a few hours now. No official checkout or anything." The nurse scoffed and turned her head back towards the young girl standing in front of her desk. "That girl took one of our nurses key cards. If you see her, tell her that we need it back. She can keep the scrubs."

"Oh, uh... Yeah, I'll do that." Eli paused for a moment, lost in thought, before trying another name. "What about Amelia... No, I don't know her last name. Uhm, has Keaton Plasse been released?"

A few more clicks of a keyboard. "Mhm. Left with a clean bill of health and a proper checkout."

A nod. "Thanks."

Eli turned away from the desk and stared at the foyer of the hospital. It was unexpected that Lynn would have left the hospital. Let alone with a stolen key card and a pair of scrubs. What was she up to that required sneaking out of a building? Especially after a traumatic injury?

The image of Lynn slumped against a wall, blood oozing out of a gaping hole where her eye once was, invaded her mind. She blinked, and Lynn was replaced with Radvi. At least Lynn wasn't in a coma. At least Lynn survived. At least-

Eli pushed her way through the doors and gratefully accepted the fresh, cool air outside. She breathed in for a few moments until she felt calm again. At least Keaton was alright. Amelia... She was probably out too. Their injuries hadn't been half as bad as Lynn's. Her own injury wouldn't have been that bad if the bullet hadn't hit bone. She'd been in the hospital longer to let the bone finish healing on her own. Plus... She was almost considered a mental health risk for a bit there.

With a sigh, Eli continued on her way. Lynn... Lynn you nut. When I find you, I'm sending you right back here to make sure everything is okay. She pressed her lips together and drew her phone from her pocket. She had a few texts to send.

Where are you? Are you okay? I heard you stole a nurses key card.

Hey, how have you been? I was just released this morning. Are you meeting Archie?

Are you okay? Were you at the welcoming day? Please text me back.

Eli bit her lip and stared at the screen as she walked through the street. Even if Lynn had her phone, would she even text back? Apparently Lynn was awful at using the thing. Maybe Keaton knew where she was? Keaton and Lynn were close. She just needed Keaton to text back.

"Hey, watch it!"

Eli flinched. Her feet came to a halt just in time to avoid knocking into a security officer. She stared at him, probably resembling a deer caught in headlights.

"You kids need to watch where your walking instead of that screen of yours. You could have walked right into a wall the way you were looking at it." The officer shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He squinted as he looked at her. "Hey, aren't you-" He stopped mid-sentence, but gave her a cautious look over before he waved his hand and continued on his way. "Get on home. And watch where you're going."

Eli watched him walk away, a little unnerved. Wasn't she? Wasn't she what? She frowned. Maybe he was talking about the footage. Maybe he'd seen it. Maybe he'd been there to pick up whoever survived. Eli didn't remember his face. She was practically unconscious by the time the rescue efforts rushed in. She looked around at the few students and staff that littered the walkways. Had they all seen the footage? Did they all recognize her? As much as she wanted to accept that she'd saved lives, what would the people on Earth think? What were the staff thinking?

She had to get somewhere where she could be alone. Unseen. She wanted to watch the footage. Even if it hurt to see. If anything, she had to know what was filmed and what everyone had seen her and her friends do. So, she headed in the direction of a park. She settled herself at the base of a tree, holding the phone a little too tightly.

"Cara, I want to see the footage of Welcoming Day."

"Are you sure?"

A deep breath. A nod. "Yes."

"Alright. I'll start at the beginning."

---

By the end of it, Eli was hugging her knees to her chest. She wiped her sleeve against the fresh tears that wet her eyes and chin. Her heart grieved for her people, but she also felt a deep pitted hatred for the silent court. Anger for anyone that would attack parahumans just for being different. It's not like anyone asked for this. It's not like all of them abused their gifts.

"Cara, how many parahumans die from hate acts each year?"

"At least one thousand parahumans die each year from specific acts of violence. Many go unreported."

Eli shook her head. The number was too high. "How many groups like the silent court are there?"

"Fifty public anti-parahuman groups have claimed attacks in the U.S. alone. The silent court was not one of them."

Silence. Fifty reported groups. How many more hid underground? How many anonymous faces wear masks just like the court's? It was a grim feeling. "Do you think the court had any help from inside The Promise? How could they have gotten onto the shuttle without sounding an alarm?"

"I'm unsure, Eli. It is possible."

Eli frowned, and looked up towards the sky as if she would find answers there. In the distance she could see the glass and metal barrier that protected them from outer space. Past it was a void blacker than black, but dotted with little lights that stretched for eons. The edge of the Spire was always in view, but she'd never seen it's entirety. Only in pictures.

"Cara, how much is done on the Spire that they don't tell us?"

Her phone was silent for a few moments. It almost felt like Cara was hesitating. "A lot, Eli. I can't tell you any more than that."

"Would you, if you could?"

"Yes." Her voice almost sounded regretful.

---

Weeks ago…

Of all places, this was where she was supposed to meet him? Eli stared down into the black abyss through the porthole. She wasn’t sure why it was necessary to go down below, but she suspected that it was the only place on the station without cameras. So, after taking one last gulp of fresh air, Eli descended into the darkness. She felt her feet land on dry cement and felt relieved. No sewer water to wade through. She’d worn her dirtiest shoes just in case.

Cautiously, Eli turned in the direction as instructed and carefully kept her head low in case there was a sudden change in ceiling height. When she approached the meeting spot, she stood straight. She was all business, and she didn’t want to show how nervous being here made her. The risk of danger was at least at 50% for even being down here. If anyone knew what she was about to get up to, she’d definitely be screwed. Plenty of people go missing onboard The Promise. Most of them broke the rules. Let’s not become a part of that percentage.

“Jax?” She asked, peering into the dim light of the sewer.

_{“Not so loud!”} a young man- well, more of a boy than a man, hissed. He was exactly what someone would imagine as a technopath boy would be. At only sixteen, he had yet to fully grow into himself, sporting a lanky frame and a goofy grin. A sprinkling of freckles ran over the bridge of his nose, and he sported a pair of glasses. Although the left eye seemed to be less lense and more of an amalgamation of wires and other machinery. A design that was still being worked on, no doubt.

“And stop using my name! I told you to call me Packet!”

It was a term that was used to describe information when it was being transferred. Jax thought it was cool, because of course he did.

Elara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He wasn’t that young, but it still bothered her that the guy hadn’t even sprouted one hair on his upper lip yet. The guy was insanely smart, from what she’d picked up from him when they’d first met. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’d already gotten his degree in engineering or something.

She forced a smile. ”Hey, Packet. I’m glad you came.” As odd as it felt to use a codename, Eli wanted to go along with it. Maybe it would be good to keep their identities hidden.

“Yeah, no problem…” he trailed off, his eyes moving up from Eli to the currently deactivated cameras. “What do you need from me? We can’t stay too long, or they’ll notice I have the footage on loop from before we got here.”

Eli watched him carefully as he inspected the dead cameras above, and wondered if he’d run as soon as she answered his question. She had to approach the topic carefully. ”What can you tell me about the pathways that lead to The Spire? How do you get onto it from this section of the station?” Maybe once she got him thinking about it, it wouldn’t sound like a completely insane idea to break into it.

“I… don’t know. At least not exactly. I’ve never gone ON The Spire.” Packet explained, turning and pacing in a direction that led further into the depths of the sewers. “But I know of what is probably… maybe a route. And by route I mean door. And by door, I mean a locked door that no one in my group has opened.”

They walked for several minutes until he came to a stop by what appeared to be a heavily machined entryway that was built into the side of the wall. He motioned to it dramatically. “Welcome to Jurassic Park.”

A beat passed.

“That sounded a lot better in my head.”

Eli raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help but chuckle. She took a moment to look over the door before turning back to him. ”What would it take to open it? Have you all tried opening it together, at the same time?” She reminded herself to slow down, and decided to go ahead and let him in on her faulty plan. ”I’ve been thinking…” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts in a way that wouldn’t confuse him. ”None of us never really know what’s going on in there. What’s really going on.” She looked him right in the eyes. ”What if one of us went in, and told the world?” It was blasphemy, she knew. She couldn’t help but think about Trevor and the nullifying taser that was lost to the woods. What else were they developing? How were they testing the tech? The answer was probably sickening to think of, but Eli wanted to know. She needed to know. This is the part where you turn away, Packet, and tell me to delete your number. Save yourself, kid.

“I said I’ve never been ON The Spire. Not that I couldn’t open the door.” Packet said, walking over to the gate and placing a hand on the metal frame. He hummed, but didn’t say anything more. “I can open this myself. I just…” he trailed off. “Listen, I don’t know what goes on, on The Spire. I’m not exactly the daredevil type. I’m more the ‘do my homework or get stuffed in a locker’ brand.” he explained, motioning to himself. “I don’t know what would happen if you went in. I don’t know what you’ll see or find. I definitely don’t want to know why you’re asking me all this.”

He threw his hands up in the air and stepped away from the door, and then crossed them over his chest in exasperation. “I’m risking my neck over this, y’know? I don’t know how much trouble I’d get into. Or how much you’ll get into. What’s in it for me?”

Eli was staring at him, her lips parted in a little ‘o’ of shock. She hadn’t expected any of this from such a, well, a dorky kid. She blinked, trying to regroup herself. C’mon, Eli. You have to act like you know what you’re doing or he’ll think this is a lost cause. She had to give him some credit, though. He was working a deal. She had to give him something, even if she hadn’t even thought about what it might be. For him to do this and get caught, he could potentially be sent to the prisons. For Eli, it was probably a much, much worse fate. What could she do for him, even if she might not make it back?

”Look… I’m not exactly one hundred percent sure that I’m going to do this. It’s a huge risk, and if anything goes haywire, I definitely don’t want you to get any fallback.” She took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. ”I’m not sure what I can offer you. I have some money saved up from work. I could pay you, and I could also do my best to convince them that I forced you to do this. I have a bit of a record with messing with people’s minds.” She wasn’t exactly proud that she had a record, but it would definitely help her case. ”I could tell them that that is exactly what I did to you. They would definitely take it easy on you if they believed me.” She pressed her lips together and hoped that her answer would appease him. All the cards were in his hand, really.

Packet seemed to shift his weight a bit, somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. “I’ll open it, I guess. But you keep my name… well, names, out of your mouth. As far as I’m concerned I was being brainwashed.” he said. “Just… don’t get caught. Please.”

He turned and ran his hand along the metal frame of the door again. “Just tell me what you see when you get back. Speaking of back… we should be going. Soon. They’ll catch onto the cameras soon enough.”

Eli nodded and swallowed back the lump that had gathered in her throat. ”Yeah… Let’s get going.” She couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t get caught. She couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be given the same sentence as herself, if things went south. She didn’t like doing this to him, but she didn’t really have any other genius technopaths to rely on. ”Look… I can’t guarantee anything, Packet. I won’t be trying this any time soon, so don’t let it worry you too much, okay?” She gave him a small smile. ”I’ll contact you, if I want to go through with this. If you don’t want to take the risk, you don’t have to message me back. If you do, I’ll know that you’re willing to risk it to get me in there. Deal?”

Packet sighed, his whole body deflating a bit as he did so. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Deal.”

Nicholas

---

Feeling the familiar heft in his hands, he couldn’t help but smile. If he didn’t like what he saw, all he had to do was point and click. Then, with the slightest adduction of his index finger, he could crop them right out of the frame. If he wanted to. Oh, God. He was writhing with pleasure as he imagined how many problems he could solve.

Now, he was having the slightest bit of trouble making friends. In fact, every time he had seemed to find it within himself to reach out socially, at least one person ended up dead. Who knew how many other corpses the kids were bumping into. He knew that death was a part of life but he had thought that the amount of decomposing bodies he ran into would, like, generally decrease after the militia had been disassembled.

He thought about Anderson. Apparently Anderson was the werecroc, presumably sent into a murderous frenzy by the spontaneous homicide served up to him. Nic could still recall the ambience. That was probably the most dead bodies he’d ever seen at once. Some of his friends, if they were his friends, were almost amongst them. You’d think that surviving something like that would have brought them together as a group. But that wasn’t the case. Amelia, the punky one, had tried to murder him after he tried to protect her.

He understood the logic in her actions but felt a massive twinge of regret when he considered that he was apprehended by the remainder of the guards before he got the chance to explain that he had been trying to protect her. And then there’s the fact that he improvised a bomb that he tossed to Anderson. Possibly could’ve killed his aspirational best friend. He’d never had a guy friend his own age, really. Never had a bro. How fucked was that? And how fucked was it that, if it weren’t for The Cafeteria Colossus, he would’ve killed his angel by trying to protect her.

Aw, well. Life was too short for regrets. Better to just bottle that shit up and shove it deep down inside of you. All that heavy shit. All that densely ethically complicated shit. No use crying over spilled blood. He had to keep a move on. After all, if he stood still too long, all of his feelings would sort themselves out, just like blood. The only thing that kept them in the state of functional fluidity was the nonstop motion that they were always going through. Shutupshutupshutup, he thought to himself. Get your game face on.

And just like that, he felt his lips arch into a smile. One of uncommon intensity, radiating levels of sincerity so extreme that it was inhuman. He looked out across the freshly fascist-leaning fields of the fragile frontier.

“Go get ‘em son. Put all those freaks where they belong,” he heard the unflappable Nathan Adair whisper in his ear, almost feeling his dear old dad’s finger pressing on his own. There they were, pulling a trigger as father and son. He thought about it, as a juggernaut of a grin exploded through his skull and splattered across his face. He cackled as an electric crackle of “fuck it” flowed through him, jolting his muscles like a dead frog in a lab.

Nic recoiled.

---

“Aaaggggkkhhhhhhh!” Nic hucked, feeling his eyes open, he realized that he had no concept of how long he’d been screaming. His cheeks were hot and moist, like the condensation outside a cup of hot cocoa. And his throat was sore from screaming. The residual pain from the toll it took on his throat was almost enough to spark a whole new cycle of screaming. But this wasn’t the time or place for that. This was a new day. This was gonna be a good day.

“Do you know why it’s going to be a good day?” Nic asked himself as he unraveled across his carpet. “It’s going to be a good day because I’m going to make it a good day.” He crawled across his carpet with the same momentum as a man trying to find a handhold as he felt down a waterslide, only he felt the berber burn as his slithering scrubbed away at his skin. “I’m going to kill anyone who tries to make it a bad day. And if I find one more dead body, then whoever made it is going to find themselves playing the role of the second dead body I see today.”

He’d hardly left bed since the cafeteria incident. His part in casting an Area of Effect shrapnel spell in the cafeteria on a whim seemed dumber and dumber the longer he thought about it. Maybe it could’ve killed Archie. Maybe not. Needs further study.

He slapped himself. Thoughts like that coming in automatically were what he hated most about himself. The first thing he’d been taught to find out about someone when getting to know them was what their weakness was. His dad really loved all that Sun Tzu stuff. The Art of War. Every enemy has a weakness. That’s the problem with hating yourself, is you know exactly what to do to wage a war for the fucking ages.

Ironically, in his time with the counselors and psychiatrists back in Alabama, he never bothered reading anything like [I]How to Make Friends and Influence People{/I]. It was pretty much all Quentin Tarantino all the time. Drowning out his firsthand memories of violence with another man’s fantasy-fetish-violence.

He’d been escorted out of the cafeteria by a pair of guards who brought him in for questioning because he’d technically tried to kill a high ranking staff member. Which, under most circumstances would’ve seemed extremely reasonable. But this wasn’t most circumstances, this was [B}SPACE[/B], babe! And in space no one gives a fuck. They understood and let him on his way. Unfortunately, in inspecting his belongings, they had completely disheveled his first aid kit. It would actually be less work, at minimum wage, to save up for a new one and purchase it than it would to restore order to the mess that they’d made of his equipment. He didn’t even get the opportunity to help with triage since the entire space station entered martial law.

“Fuck the faculty and their food rationings. I haven’t eaten a bite since the first shot was fired. I don’t need their rations. I can just wait until things are back to normal,” he said, feeling resolved in his commitment to fast for the entirety of the next month. He’d never tried fasting before but it had no effect on his confidence.

“Actually, I could really go for a bagel right now,” so much as saying such an absurd sentiment summoned a symphony in his esophagus. “Maybe even two bagels. Yeah,” he thought as he looked in the mirror. “Actually, since food’s out of the question, maybe I can search for love.”

Kk-ckk, he clicked his tongue as he winked at his reflection.

Slipping on his yoga pants and a leotard underneath a leather jacket, Rolex in place, he picked up his satchel before stuffing a snowglobe into it. It was a snowglobe filled with specially treated rose petals that could be shaken about inside of it. And they shook violently over a painstakingly hand-painted recreation of the Promise. He spent ninety-three of the last 140 hours working on it. Looking at the literal cut corners within some of the architecture’s less obvious spots, he couldn’t tell if he was proud of that or not, but he did know that there was a very special girl out there that would probably tell him what she thought about it.

And like that, he was out the door. He was jogging along. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea where to find her. He didn’t even know her last name, but he did know that her first was Eli. He couldn’t tell if he was being a hopeless romantic or an idiot anymore. He just knew that he had miraculously found the motivation to step outside. The oddest thing happened when he was jogging around the pseudo-urban dystopia. For the first time all week, he saw himself.

Not metaphorically. He literally saw himself. He saw the way that the spandex clung to his body, just how flattering it was on him. But, around himself, he saw leaves and tree limbs, so he turned around. And he looked for a tree. There was a slight rustling.

“Archie, is that you up there?” he asked, tenuously approaching the tree. Had he infected one of the guards? Were they running surveillance on him? He tip toed up, watching the perspective shift skyward, until they were on a branch so thin it would be impossible for a person to put their weight onto it. So this was some kind of parahuman, then. “Hey, it’s okay. My name is Nic. I’m not gonna hurt you. Unless you hurt me or pretty much anyone else. In that case, I’ll kill you.”

Then, the perspective zigged. And zigged. Twisting around the wood, looping like a snake. Stopping. Starting. Turning. Then starting again. Until it was on the ground, in the grass.

It was a squirrel.

A squirrel with antennae just like Nic’s. It seemed preposterous. But there it was. It had Nic’s antennae. Now that he was looking at it, it seemed apparent that it was unusually large, to the extent that it seemed preposterous. Nic had to know what was up with this squirrel. That meant he would have to capture the squirrel. When he was a little boy, his father had assigned him the task of chasing a squirrel specifically in order to train his dexterity and reflexes. That said, he literally never succeeded in catching one.

But things were different now. He was older. Faster. More powerful.

And better at throwing things. That was the important one. He waited for the creature to turn around. Then, like David lodging a stone into Goliath’s forehead, he slung his entire satchel at the squirrel, eliciting a frightened squeal as it realized that it was being preyed upon. Shocked by the sudden head trauma, it was sluggish enough for Nic to grab by the tail and stuff into the very satchel that had landed onto it a moment prior.

The Promise, being a space-faring vessel, didn’t exactly have a standing army of microbiologists on board, but fortunately, he knew exactly one. His name was Richard Edwin. He and Nic went back a ways.

---

“So why does this squirrel have antennae like mine? I’ve never known anyone else to ever develop external antennae? Why can this affect a squirrel? My virus doesn’t do that. Does it?”

“Well, Nicholas, it kinda looks like it does. What we’ve got here is a bona fide specimen of Ratufa Astra, colloquially known as Trevor’s Flying Squirrel.”

“That’s a flying squirrel?”

“Nah. It’s a flying squirrel in the same sense that we’re flying humans. It was ’discovered’ by Jason Trevor, who realized that some of the squirrels onboard the space station were biologically distinct from the ones back home that had been taken before launch. By all conventional metrics, it’s a bit too fast for evolution, so we suspect that the population of the various onboard wildlife may have been engineered to thrive in the rigid conditions offered onboard. But that’s just a theory. It’d seem that they are alarmingly bad at record keeping and it’s hard to convince the more senior faculty that dissecting the genome of the onboard squirrels should qualify as a primary concern regarding what projects are offered funding/time with the limited equipment available.”

“Ah. So… this squirrel doesn’t have parahuman powers?”

“No, Nicholas. Can’t say it does. Say, what do you think your ‘superpower’ is?”

“I can see through other people’s eyes by emitting a virus that convinces their body to construct the facilities to transmit their sight back to my brain.”

“Close. But nope. Your superpower is that you’re always sick and your immune system is just barely effective enough to keep the virus on the ropes. ‘Your’ virus, as you call it, is actually a constantly mutating lineage of viruses. Somewhere along the line, you constructed a strain that can spread amongst the squirrel population. That’s your superpower.”

“You’re supersick,” he continued. “One day it’ll probably kill you and we’ll call it old age. Just pray to God that you don’t ever get AIDS, or geesh, you are one fucked duck. Speaking of fucked ducks, though, did you know that we got AIDS from chimps. I’m reminded of that because you have introduced a pathogen into the squirrel population. We’ve actually gotten a lot of reports of these horny little critters,” he chuckled. “Now be honest, did you fuck a squirrel?”

“Excuse me,” Nic said, given pause.

“I’m just joshin’ you. But seriously, did you ever unload on a squirrel, point blank, with your antennae. This answer actually does matter. Not for anything concerning you. Just for my research.”

“Well, first thing: No. Second thing, I’m really uncomfortable now, Doctor Edwin.”

“If I were you, I would probably just wear a hat, or you know, something to stop you from spitting that stuff out everywhere. There’s no telling what this could mean for the ecosystem.”

---

Setting the squirrel free upon walking back out the door of Doctor Edwin’s office, Nic realized that this was perfect. He had the perfect solution for finding Eli. He could just run laps around The Promise until he found her, cheating by piggybacking on the vision of the squirrels he’d infected, since evidently every human he’d ever infected had habitually drank enough to clean it right out of their systems.

There was that involuntary emission in the cafeteria before he threw the chair leg at Gennedy. So those people probably all had it now. Unless they drank which, knowing them, they almost certainly had. It only took three hours of running laps around the space station for him to coincidentally bump into her.

“Hey, it’s Eli, right? Man, the last couple times we’ve bumped into each other have been some of the worse days I’ve had in recent memory. I choose to believe that there’s no correlation in that. How are you?”

---

Packet… Packet. Packet had probably avoided any part of the welcoming day events. He didn’t seem like the social type. Lynn wasn’t like that either, but she was there. Eli frowned. Should I text him, to see if he’s okay? She glanced at her phone where it laid in the grass. No… No. Only text him if you’re going through with the plan. IF you want to risk your life to figure this out. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Was it even worth it, now? Things were going great with her mother. While before it felt like she couldn’t tell her anything, now it felt like she could say whatever was on her mind. What if she was caught sneaking into the Spire? She probably wouldn’t see her mother any more. She’d never return to Earth; that was the only hypothesis she was sure would come true. Maybe they wouldn’t kill her. Maybe they’d keep her alive, but would they send her to the prisons for discovering their little secrets? She could still get the word out from prison somehow, if there was anything to let the public know. Would they keep her on the Spire? If they were really using what Eli assumed they used to test the nullifying tech or any other anti-para instruments, would she suffer the same fate as those she dared to rescue? Rescue as in, hope the public will rage in response to their torture and demand for their prompt release.

Eli scoffed and shook her head. ”I’m going mad. Absolutely nuts. Of course you aren’t going to do it.” She grabbed her phone, shoved it in her pocket, and promptly pushed herself to her feet. ”What do I expect to happen if I do this? A worldwide protest? Viva la revolucion and all that bullshit until we’re treated a little more humanely?” She shook her head again and brushed her hair back. As much as she said it out loud, Eli still had this feeling deep down in her gut that she should just do it.

”I’m going to get myself killed,” she murmured. With a sigh, she turned and began to walk again. She wasn’t sure which direction, but she just wanted to walk. Maybe the chip in her phone would pick up Arianna’s signature, and her mind would be pulled elsewhere. Keaton might text back with the meeting’s location and Eli would have to worry more about seeing Archie again than her death wish to see the Spire. Maddy… Maybe Maddy would message her back and they’d spend the evening drinking in the woods? That would be nice. To just drink until she forgot everything. She almost missed the way things were before the prison break. Back when her life was so much less complicated. What would have happened if she hadn’t smiled at Archie that day? How would her life have gone if she’d just gotten her dinner and walked away?

It was hard to think this way. She’d gotten so close to everyone because she’d stayed to talk to Archie. Hell, she even considered Archie a good friend before… well, before he almost killed her. Was this the point where Eli decided to detach herself from him? It was tempting to make this easy and just go with it. To go home instead of join the others and attempt to live somewhat of a normal life again. The thought made her feel guilty because she knew that Archie wasn’t anything like the monster he turned into. It was the fear of being feet away from a gaping maw of teeth that made her wonder if he was just a wolf in sheep’s clothing from the start.

Give him a chance to explain himself, Eli… She countered to herself, and she nodded. Her steps slowed to a more comfortable pace. It was a fight or flight moment, and he is just a rare case. Even if it makes you uncomfortable to be near him, you have to let the guy defend himself. He’s saved your life before, for christ’s sake. Her mind felt a little at ease now as she came to this conclusion. Now you can just enjoy the fresh air until Keaton texts you back.

She then saw a familiar face emerge from a path off to the left. It was Natalie, but she looked different, and it wasn’t just the clothes though they were different too. She was wearing black boots, skinny jeans, a maroon sweater and over that, a very trendy looking leather jacket. Her hair was shorter than Eli had last seen her too. But the real difference was her demeanour. There was always something meek about Natalie before. Even when she was smiling, she seemed sad. Now, she looked like she was genuinely in a good mood. Given what had happened, that seemed a bit odd. Surely it should be the other way around.

Natalie saw Eli, smiled, and waved before making her way towards Eli.

Despite how weird it seemed that Natalie was cheerful after she’d fought her boyfriend (were they boyfriend and girlfriend yet? It seemed like they weren’t), Natalie’s smile was contagious. Eli had never seen her look so happy, and it made her feel like there was some part of the world that could still thrive after all that had happened. She found herself smiling back at Natalie as she approached. ”Hey, Natalie. I like the new look.” Not wanting to end her greeting on a note about the change in Nat’s appearance, Eli continued. ”How’ve you been? Are you headed to meet everyone too?”

”It’s been...not too great actually,” Nat replied, smile fading a little, ”but I think I’ve snapped and stopped caring about how people see me. Have you seen the footage? People, even other paras, are scared of me now, but it’s like...it’s like it’s finally out in the open and I finally have a clear head. I’ve really been looking forward to the rest of you getting out of hospital. You’re the only friends I have here. I’m excited to meet up!”

Eli frowned lightly and began to speak in a soft tone. ”They shouldn’t be scared of you. They should be scared that that group was able to board a shuttle and make it to The Promise without any warning or alarm.” She shook her head and was louder this time, her eyes looking firmly into Natalie’s. ”I’m glad you don’t care what they think, Nat. If anyone ever treats you like that in front of me, I’m going to march right up to them and give them a piece of my mind.”

She started walking again. Not in any particular direction, but just to walk so that she could release her anger through the physical action of it. ”People are just scared because they wouldn’t have been able to do any of that if they’d been in the same situation. I mean, the real monsters are those- those murderers. How can they forget that?” Her head turned to look at Natalie and she hoped that she didn’t sound like she was standing on a soap box. Or, maybe she should be. Maybe it was time someone started defending the outcasts. ”You had every right to do what you did that day. Anyone that disagrees with that is not our ally.”

Her head turned to look around at the other students nearby. She almost dared them to say something, just so she could show them what’s up. If there was anything Eli was known for, it was her fierce protection of her friends. She’d even stand up for a stranger if they needed it. When no challenge presented itself, Eli simply released the tension in a sigh.

Natalie beamed at this response. “Thanks! I really mean it. It’s so good having somebody on my side right now. But I can understand it. The monsters are gone. I’m still here. I mean, since I got here even I was afraid of me. All that’s changed is I let that fear go. I’ve given up trying for ‘a normal life’, whatever that meant. Things aren’t going to fix themselves around me. I’ve just got to find my own happiness and take it.”

Eli smiled softly, taking a few moments to mull over Natalie’s words. ”I’m happy for you Natalie.” She said finally, turning to show the girl her smile. It made Eli feel good that Natalie considered her a friend now. Especially after their first encounter with each other. She turned her head forward and suddenly thought of Natalie’s words to Archie in the loading bay. The image of Archie’s giant foot pressing down on Nat’s body came to mind as well, and Eli resisted the urge to shiver. Her eyes lowered to watch the ground in front of her, and she distracted her mind by purposefully missing every crack in the pavement.

”So… You knew about Archie’s… condition.” An odd way to put it, but she would have felt rude for calling it anything but that. From what I’ve learnt being on this station, it’s extremely rare to have an ability like that.” She wasn’t sure why she mentioned that, but it felt right to express her point of view. ”Can I ask you how you found out about it? About him?” She glanced at her before looking away again. ”Did it happen like that, too?”

Natalie’s smile got smaller, but didn’t vanish entirely. ”Yes. We came in on the same transport. He turned on the first day. You must have heard something about an incident at the Cafeteria. That was it. But….during the breakout, I was so scared I snapped, and wanted to kill every prisoner I could get my hands on. I actually did kill two of them. But I wanted to hunt them all down, out of fear and hatred. And Archie, Lizard Archie, stopped me and calmed me down. We’ve made a promise to always try to stop the other from going too far. Because we’re the same. It’s just that I still look like a human when I turn into a monster.”

Eli nodded slowly. She was starting to put all of the pieces together. Natalie was pretty similar to Archie, in the way that their ability could control their instincts without even letting them realize it. Did that make her feel better about Archie, though? ”I think it’s great that you’ve both been there for each other. I… I know it might look like you’re both… monsters, but I don’t think of you- either of you, that way.” She looked up at the sky and watched the station ever so slowly move along its orbit. ”I hate to admit this, but… I’m a little nervous about seeing Archie again. I just… I can’t get the image out of my mind.” She closed her eyes for a moment and felt guilty that she’d even said it out loud. When she opened them, she looked over at her companion. ”Am I awful for feeling this way?”

”I know you’re not an awful person,” Natalie replied, furrowing her brow. ”Maybe seeing him in a normal setting and talking about it might make you feel better. I think still having a sense of fear just means you’re not desensitized yet, and Honestly? I think you should hold onto that.”

Eli chuckled softly. ”I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling fear.” With a soft smile, Eli nudged her. ”Anyways, how are you and Archie doing? Everything going well?”

Nat’s smile disappeared and she slowed. She looked away, and rubbed the back of her neck. ”I don’t...really know. It’s complicated. After the Arianna incident I really withdrew into myself, and the next time I saw him, he was kinda mad I’d shut him out. And then….you know, this happened. In fact, that time was the last time I actually talked to him. I’m excited for this meeting but also nervous, because….I don’t want to find out if I screwed this relationship up before it started. I really like him...”

Eli frowned lightly and matched her pace. She thought over what Natalie said and shrugged. ”I don’t think you did anything wrong by taking some time to yourself. Isolation is not often a great option, but sometimes it’s needed.”

”I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Archie when he asked me for advice about you,” she started with a smile. ”If you care about him the way I think you do, you have to make sure he knows. Ask him to go on a date with you tonight. I think you two need an evening to just relax together.”

”It’s… been a while since I last dated someone. We broke up because neither of us had much time to see each other. Looking back I wish that I had fought a little harder to keep him.” She smiled ruefully before continuing. ”So my advice to you is to just keep trying. Archie would take your lead any day.”

”You think so? To be honest, I want to go somewhere private with him and tell him about my past. I finally feel brave enough to. Not much of a fun date but I think he’ll appreciate the show of trust and confiding in him. Maybe I could do that at the end of a proper date.”

Eli looked over Natalie’s expression, feeling a surge of empathy for her. She wasn’t sure exactly what Natalie’s past was like, but it must have been rough if she had to feel brave to tell her story. ”That sounds like a good idea, Nat,” she spoke softly before smiling. ”I know we don’t know each other super well, but if you ever need to talk you can come to me.”

Naalie smiled brightly, and nodded. ”I’ll be sure to take you up on that if I ever need anyone to talk to. I-” she started to say, before a boy with antennas approached them, and addressed Eli. Natalie recognised him from that day in the forest. He didn’t seem to have recognised her, from the forest or the footage. Was her change in image really that drastic? Either way, he hadn’t addressed her, so she didn’t say anything to him yet.

Looking from Natalie and now to Nicholas, Eli couldn’t help but feel a little startled. Still, she offered him a smile. ”Hey, Nicholas. I’ve been… okay, for the most part of it.” She glanced over at Natalie. ”Natalie you remember Nicholas, don’t you? He was at the bonfire.”

She turned back to Nicholas and suddenly remembered seeing him in the woods. Had he been at the welcoming day as well? ”How have you been? Were you in the loading bay too?”

Nicholas

---

He got her name right. Fuck yeah. Due to the almost complete drought of non-urgent interactions he’d had with these people, it felt like a gamble to address her as anything other than "You". Besides Archie, he couldn’t quite recall having ever said any of these people’s names out loud. But she was Eli. What was that short for? Elizabeth, perhaps. Seems probable.

He, and apparently the various squirrels that had casually spotted her in passing had been so fixated on her that they literally hadn’t even registered that there was another girl with her. Nic took a quick gander at her. She was really posh and put together but something shot her seemed vaguely familiar. He knew that he knew her face but something just wasn’t clicking. And he was definitely going to put it together.

”Natalie you remember Nicholas, don’t you? He was at the bonfire.”

NATALIE. That’s it. She was Natalie.

Though hearing her name made him feel brighter, like a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders, it didn’t jog his memory in the slightest. Was she in the forest? If so, he’d been too preoccupied by negotiating the release of the Jell-O shot in his grasp to actually sort out who was who in a timely manner. If he realized that he was going to rub elbows with these people, he’d have investigated them. Figured out what they--

Nopenope, he cut himself off. No psychological biopsies today. This was his chance to win the love of the very same siren that he had locked eyes with from all across the way at that very party. The very stars had aligned to create this moment, quite literally in fact, and there was no way that he was going to let his diabolical diagnostics ruin it for him.

He gave Natalie his best smile, Nebraska’s finest, fresh off the vine. “It’s wonderful to see you. Gee, it’s been an interesting couple of weeks, hasn’t it. With all the excitement with the loading bay, the breakout, the forest. Actually, would you mind explaining what had actually happened in the forest? I’m a little fuzzy on the details.” he shrugged his shoulder and arched his eyebrow, chuckling.

“That’s some smooth operatin’ if I’ve ever seen any. That was goddamn amicable. Nicely done, kiddo. You did that like you actually cared what she had to say,” Nic felt the warmth of his father’s familiar nonstop commentary buzzing into his right ear. ”After all, nobody beats a black bear in a fist fight but here in America the most lethal carnivore is man’s best friend.”

Nic dug his finger into his ear, feeling for a wireless earpiece that he could just claw out. All he found was ear wax. ”We’ll bag these ones just like the last couple before the raid. After all, I know we had our differences but you're still my son. And if there's anything in this world that is true, it’s that there's nuthin’ that stops you from gettin' her done."

He clawed at his ear again, desperately hoping that he was being pranked. All his pinky finger found was a vacant canal of non-electronic stillness. Was there something wrong with him? Was this the moment that his dam finally give way to the deluge of disorientation? He couldn’t make sense of it. He felt foolish. He felt embarrassed AND he felt like there was a decent chance that the girls could hear it.

Or worse. Was one of them making the noise? No. Of course not. That would be preposterous. Clearly it was just his imaginatio running rampant. Either way, he felt like he was riding right up onto the verge of looking really weird and he just couldn’t think of any right-ear-related excuses, so he shifted his posture and acted like he was swatting at a mosquito.

“Little critters are out in swaths today,” he laughed heartily, each exhalation topped with a dollop of jolly antipathy. He had to make sure that neither of them caught on to what had just happened. Should he show her the snowglobe now? Did teenaged girls even like snowglobes? Was his self-restraint holding him back from finding his place in the world or was it merely allowing things to fall into place. Damn. Damn! Damn.

”How have you been? Were you in the loading bay too?”

Thank God she didn’t notice. No. This was a time for expressing feelings, for pouring the foundation of something special. If he tipped his hand now, if he jumped the gun, he may as well just jump straight off of The Promise.

Was it Natalie that was bringing this trepidation out of him? Was she… a MIND READER? He disregarded the notion. The odds of this random girl being responsible for this extremely personal, sudden intrusion as he tried to find the means to express himself, the way to make a very specific and limited portion of his true feelings known, seemed infinitesimally low. But the chance was still there. He’d have to test her. Just to see.

As he unrolled these thoughts, he watched Natalie carefully, intent on determining whether she was reading him live. Nope. She didn’t seem to have any tells that he could pick up on. So either she wasn’t a mind reader, which was objectively extremely probable, or she had been practicing her poker face long enough to avoid detection. Given that he, himself, had been raised to be he improbable thing that you’d have to be paranoid to suspect was actually out there, it only felt fashionable, karmically savvy, to extend the courtesy of suspecting someone else might be equally as treacherous.

It then occurred to him that it had been a solid minute since Eli had asked the question. And it was incredibly rude of him to have kept her waiting.

“Oh, sorry. I thought about it a little bit and, honestly, my mind just started wandering. No--not wandering, I.. Yeah. I was there. And I’m really sorry.”

“You see,” he took a deep breath, “when Archie was doing his whole Mr. Hyde thing, I had just been stepping out of the kitchen. I’d rigged a fire extinguisher into an explosive. I’d meant to lob it into the loading bay, where those… people were coming from. But then I saw you. And, even with all of the other terrible things happening, I couldn’t find it within myself to look at anyone else. Because Archie was charging right at you. And I’ve seen… I’ve seen a lot of things but I didn’t want you dying to be one of them. So I threw it your way.

“Specifically, I threw it behind Archie. And it blew. Just like I meant it to. But I’m not sure it really did anything for you. It was kinda stupid, actually,” he said pulling up the sleeve of his jacket and showing her the scar and scab where the shrapnel had crashed into his arm. “I actually almost killed you. Because I wanted to… I wanted to stop Archie--I didn’t know it was Archie--from killing you. But ultimately, he’s the one who protected you from me.

“And yeah. I, uh. After that, I saw one of the other girls that you guys hang out with being crept up on by some commando type. I assumed he was one of the bad ones, so I threw a chair leg at him. But it turns out he was a security officer, so I got to spend a couple hours being interviewed about it all.

“So yeah, I was there. Are you okay? It looked like you were having a real bad time with it all.”

Amelia

---

Lynn leaned against the wall of the bathroom hallway, using the glass of the phone in her hand to peek around the corner. The loading docks were through this way, but the place was locked up tight with whatever excuse for a crime scene team the Promise had. I imagine they destroy more evidence than they collect, Lynn thought bitterly, trying to count the guards running around as best she could. Lynn spotted at least five, one dutifully snapping pictures, a few others poring over details. All of them were heavily armed. Lynn hadn’t been able to hear much on the grapevine in regards to what was changing on the station, but it didn’t take a genius to piece it together. The place had been a ghost town after she’d left the hospital, and everyone she’d run into had seemed fearful.

That, she supposed, may have just been that she looked like death.

Best Lynn could tell, there was no subtle way around the area towards the cargo crates and the hangar bay. There may be something there, some kind of log or recording of what went where. If nothing else, she’d grab somebody and convection roast their groin until they told her where all the stuff for kids went. Upstairs, Lynn remembered. Arianna told me they had something upstairs. She pulled her phone back out of view for a moment, trying to think of a way past all this. Lynn could try a more direct approach, but she didn’t particularly like her odds. Beyond that, all of this was for nothing if the others couldn’t escape. The time crunch was particularly infuriating for her. I need to figure out where to go and get this hail Mary on its way before the others show up here. If I make these security guys lose their shit, they’re never going to get off.

Lynn glanced around the walls, looking for something. Sprinklers? She could start a fire and maybe try to disorient them somehow. She wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, fully, aside from being annoying to them. She smirked. Heh. Well, actually, now she did kinda want to do it. She glanced up at the ceiling. Hmm. Rafters. If she could -

Motherfucker.

Motherfucker.

Damnit, Denim. You were supposed to be a little slower. Lynn felt her blood boil from the injustice of it all. She had just needed a little more time, a few more minutes, a half an hour, she could’ve gotten in and out, gotten to wherever it was she needed to be. Lynn pulled back into the full cover of the bathroom hallway and angrily punched out a text to Amelia.

I promise you there is nothing to tag up there. Go meet up with the others.

If the others weren’t on their way yet, maybe Lynn could shoo her off. Amelia was for sure the best chance the others had of getting off this thing. Without her -

Lynn’s phone buzzed again. “I swear, if Amelia put my fucking number on a stall somewh - “ she frowned. It was Eli. Are you okay? Are you okay? I heard you stole a nurse’s key card. Lynn’s mind raced. How? Did Anderson snitch? Did - no, no, he wouldn’t have, Lynn thought. It was as though the minute her brain started to launch full speed, all the ropes and chains that held her anger in place seized back around it. Archie wouldn’t have done that. He held me Lynn thought. The only other way is, Eli - Eli went to the hospital, and asked, but - .

Lynn closed her eyes and raised the phone to her forehead, breathing for a minute. They were making this so hard. Lynn fumbled with her phone, texting back.

Fine. Are you with Keaton?

Amelia, meanwhile, had had a very close call. She had been just a slight bit off with her precision teleporting onto the rafters, and nearly tipped over to one side upon bamfing into the room. After a bit of frantic arm waving and clinging to the rafter, she stabilized and got a look around. Following years of practice, she got low down to minimize her visibility. She couldn’t help but scowl as she ran through her mental checklist of dodging the cops While she was wearing her darker clothes, it didn’t blend her into the shadows like her lucky jacket did. Plus, it was lucky. And not here. Should have just dealt with the bloodstains.

Looking over the edge, she got a look at the patrolling guards below. As focused as they were on their investigation, they were all very armed. More armed than the usual cops she practically danced around back in the old days.Amelia suddenly felt naked without a weapon, which was a new experience for her. I really need to get myself a gun or something…and learn how to use it. Still, her practiced eyes saw that everything was as it should have been. Which meant no Lynn.

Amelia silently sighed from her perch, absently scratching her hair. This was a bust. I must be overthinking things after last week. Not out of the- Amelia felt her phone vibrate silently, and immediately got low to the rafter on instinct. Slowly drawing it out of her pocket, she took one look at the text, and more importantly its sender, and frowned deeply. Oooooor not! Getting soft up here Amelia? It’s not paranoia if someone really is out to get you. After taking a moment to think about it, she fired off a response.

You know, I honestly thought you weren’t here till you texted me.

Lynn looked at her phone. It was not often that Lynn’s face burned figuratively rather than literally, but this was one of the rare instances. Her pale skin immediately flushed a deep red with utter embarrassment. “Oh motherfuck me,” Lynn muttered, rubbing at her forehead before Amelia warped into reality beside her.

Amelia pocketed the phone for just a second, and took a longer look. Wherever Lynn was, she must have had a line of sight to her. Meaning that Amelia had a line of sight back to Lynn. After looking in the direction of possible hiding spots, she spotted it. A reflected light coming from the bathroom hallway. Gotcha. Looking back away, she fired off another message to Lynn.

For the record, I told no one I thought you were here. I told no one I’m here either. Back corner. By the ladies room door. 5 seconds. Don’t set me on fire.

Amelia pocketed the phone and counted down 5 seconds. With another quick scaring in reality, she appeared behind Lynn in the hallway, out of sight, and looking quite irritated. With an annoyed tone, she whispered, “Hi Lynn. How was your recovery? No get well card? No note? Didn’t even say hello? You almost died!”

Finally getting a clear look at Lynn, Amelia’s face suddenly blanched, and her annoyed tone died in her throat. She had clearly been recovering, but it still looked bad. If Lynn hadn’t had regeneration as a power she didn’t doubt it would look much worse, and that scared the shit out of Amelia. “Jesus Christ you’re still missing the eye…”

Amelia shook her head and composed herself. This was time for business, not panic. “Why are you even here? You aren’t at 100 percent yet, and you just needed to ask me. Sneaking where I don’t belong is what I do. I made my reputation off it!”

“I didn’t - “ Lynn stopped, smoke curling up from her ears. It was an equal blend of irritation and embarrassment. She was such an idiot. This whole thing had already collapsed. Lynn turned and walked into the bathroom where she could speak a touch more loudly without drawing the security over to them. “Look, I - I’m fine, alright? When was I ever at a hundred percent? I just needed - there was just something I had to take care of. Why aren’t you with Keaton and the others?” Lynn asked, hoping she could just talk Amelia out of this. Lynn looked Amelia over. The burn. The burn on her neck. Lynn had forgotten, partially due to having only a handful of hours since she’d returned to the world of the living. I cauterized her, Lynn remembered. The chain that had snaked down her spine and kept twisting her stomach into tighter and tighter knots ratcheted again. “Christ, your neck, you - “ Lynn paused. She’s scarred like you now, she heard that old voice say. Her jacket was gone, too.

Amelia followed behind Lynn, still keeping low to the ground out of habit. Just in case. She gave a bit of a mischievous grin at Lynn’s first question. “Well, there are two reasons for that. The first is I had a hunch. A hunch I nearly gave up on till you texted me. Secondly, and more importantly, I have no idea where that is.”

Amelia cocked her head at Lynn’s reaction at her. Amelia wasn’t that bad. She’d made it out with just some shock treatment and some antibiotics and…”Oh. Oh! Right, that.” Amelia pulled her shirt aside a bit, and showed the scar that covered her neck. “Yeah, it isn’t pretty. I didn’t expect the skin graft to leave that bad a scar.” She grinned. “Still, could be worse. It’s pretty cool. Looks like someone tried to take my head o-”

Amelia shook her head, suddenly realizing where this was going. “Ok, hold up a minute. No. You don’t get to freak out about my injuries when you were bleeding out in my arms. And after I busted my ass to keep you alive, you don’t get to run off on a suicide mission without my say so. So I’m giving you two choices. We can go back now, and discuss what you need her so badly as a group, or we tell the others nothing and I tag along so you don’t get killed.” Amelia grinned back at Lynn and nodded her head. “If what you’re doing here is really that important, you shouldn’t mind a little backup.”

“Look I don’t - “ Lynn started to speak, but stopped. “I - I bled out? What are you on about?” She stared at Amelia for a moment, trying to remember. She hadn’t - she hadn’t stopped to think about it much. She just remembered the kid. Burning. Melting. Screaming. There - she’d gotten shot in the eye, she knew, but it - what else had happened? And Amelia had to have gotten her out of there, yes, but… Lynn turned away for a moment, fuming. Damn you. I was so close. All of you could have just gotten away. “Amelia, I - look. Shit’s about to get really bad, okay. This isn’t the time for fucking around. I just - I just need the rest of you guys to get somewhere not here. Keaton will know what to do.”

Amelia looked confused, trying to get to the heart of Lynn’s point. “The hell are you talking about? I know you’re reckless, but even you’re not about to go setting these random guards on fi-” Amelia realized what Lynn actually meant, and her face fell.

Oh.
Oh.
Ooooooooh shit.

Amelia’s expression took on a face of steel. “Bitch, how ‘bout no. No shit, things are gonna get worse, but don’t you think for one second I’m running away. Not from this.” She wrung her hands nervously, biting her lip to keep her nerve. “I am not leaving this place while people are at risk up here. All my life I’ve wanted to fight for the rights of paras. Now I have a stake in this fight, and I’m at the heart of it, and you want me to bail? Fuck. That. So even if the others run, I’m not going anywhere.”

“They’re not gonna run, Amelia,” Lynn said quietly. “They’ll put Natalie up in front of a wall while her head’s in the clouds and Archie may not be far behind. Keaton will know but she can’t stop it. Maybe Eli gets it. I don’t know.” The flickering light of her hair made the shadows over her bandage grow long. “There’s no after this. They’re just going to keep coming. The people that run this place will, or we - “ she paused for a moment. She took Amelia’s phone and her own and turned them both off. “They’re watching everything.” There is nothing left to lose. Lynn could remember exactly all the reasons her brain had given her to not trust Amelia as far she could throw her, but something was fuzzy in her memory. Pressure on her face. A voice. Pain in her eye. “They have kids. They’re experimenting on them. The trail ended here. The docks. That’s why I was here when everything went to hell. Try to see if I could find something.” Lynn looked over at the wall, the anger making her heart pound in her skull. “You’re the only one that can actually help any of them get off this ship, Amelia. The only one. The only fucking one.” Lynn looked back at her. “Go meet up with Keaton. She’s at the picnic table about two minutes away from that coffee place.” Lynn needed so badly for one of them - just one of them - to make this a little bit easier. The feeling of the jacket pressed against her face. Anderson in the hospital bed. Eli sitting across from her in the Mexican restaurant. Keaton forcing her to go to the mall. Even Spoons in the fuckin’ candle shop. She just wanted them to have a chance. She wasn’t going to give them a chance to - no. She wasn’t going to give herself a chance to turn Che on them. Damnit. Damnit.

Amelia looked confused for a moment, mouth hanging open. “The fuck do you mean I”m the only one? How does that make any….” Realization hit her suddenly. A lot of comments Lynn had made suddenly make sense. “You...shit, I’ve never told you. I can’t teleport off anyone off this station Lynn. Not even myself!” She sighed. “I’ve tried teleporting off a moving truck to an alley once. Damn near broke my leg. Now imagine doing that from a station orbiting the planet! I’d turn us all into paste, if I even reached the surface at all.” Amelia rubbed her forehead, frustrated beyond belief. “If I had years more training, maybe, maybe I could get just myself down there.”

Amelia leaned in with a serious look in her eyes. “Now if what you say is true, you better fucking believe I’m helping bail those kids out. But I am not letting you throw yourself in the line of fire to do it. Back on Earth, my crew believed that no one gets left behind. And even knowing what I was, even knowing what the consequences would be, every single one of them tried to hide me away.” Amelia had tears in her eyes now, dripping down, but her voice stayed strong. “I don’t even know where they are now. But I’m not gonna be the coward who spits on that memory by letting you go off on your own. So if what you’re doing is really that important. I’m. Coming. With you.” Amelia glared back at Lynn as she finished her statement. She would tolerate no debate on this.

Lynn stared at Amelia, watching her temper rise. In truth, she’d not thought Amelia had the power of getting the group to earth from this station. She’d been thinking far smaller term - just getting them into one of the pods, or being able to stealth them past a camera or two. Lynn was forced, for what was now becoming an annoyingly frequent occurrence, to reconsider what her opinion on someone was. She’d had Amelia pegged day one as a weasel. Now Lynn was not about to admit her initial conception of someone had been wrong, because, at maximum, Lynn was only capable of admitting to perhaps two to three days of an incorrect notion at best, but she was forced to admit somewhere in the process Amelia had found a pair. She’d said the words that struck a chord. Amelia got it, in her own way, Lynn supposed. Dying was fine, but not dying like a bitch.

But the part Lynn couldn’t understand was why the hell Amelia would want to come with her. Lynn turned for a moment, staring at the porcelain-tiled walls. She let her brain run through everything again. She had absolutely no doubts that if she tried to go it on her own, Amelia was more than capable of sabotaging her, fucking them both over, or being such a pain in the ass with her teleportation she couldn’t achieve anything. Lynn didn’t like that. For a brief, flickering moment, there was a little voice that told her she could make Amelia do what she wanted, she could grab her before she teleported and - but it was gone. Lynn stared at the tile, blank, ordered.

“You’re such a fucking pain in the ass,” Lynn muttered. She slid out of her stupid jacket that she’d just fucking bought and tossed it to the other girl. “You look weird without one.” She rolled over the bag in her hand, inside her pants pocket. Her plan had always been a long shot (bonefuck moronic she heard her old celly’s voice telling her) but at this point it wasn’t even worth it. Lynn rubbed at the bridge of her nose, trying to think. If Amelia was sticking to her, surely one other person would. That would just make a whole mess of things. She had wanted - she had wanted them to be insulated from all this. Walled off. None of them, maybe aside from Spoons going full Spoons before she came here, had done anything really fucked up. That was what was going to happen if they went through with this.

Lynn felt her flimsy hopes at a plan crumble away like a house of cards in a hurricane. “Alright. Fuck it. Let’s go back and meet with the others.” There was at least some chance she could talk a few of them into scurrying. If not, there might be some way she could stay a step ahead of the others. Lynn didn’t want anybody else having to pull any triggers. Her elbows rattled with the memory of the force of Salamandra’s head going into the wall. They didn’t need that.

Amelia’s first reaction was originally going to be to pass the leather jacket back. I mean, it wasn’t like she was down the lucky one forever. It just needed some cleaning. But the relief she felt as Lynn conceded swept that away. You know what? Fuck it. She wasn’t risking blowing this small victory, she was gonna keep her mouth shut. Amelia let out a long sigh of relief, the serious look on her face melting away into one of exhaustion. “Ok. Ok. Thank you. Was all I was asking.” With that, Amelia put a hand on Lynn’s shoulder and closed her eyes in concentration, running through where’d she’d have to teleport them. “Alright, brace yourself. We’re going in 5.” Counting down in her head, she smiled faintly, and warped the two of them to an alley near the meeting site.

---

Nicholas. Eli remembered the way he looked standing at the edge of the clearing, back before everything headed in a dark direction. "Tall dark and blandsome," as Lynn referred to him. Lynn's amusing description of him had gone completely over her drunk little head at the time, but now it only made her smile grow wider as she listened to him speak to Natalie. Whether it was the drink, or the aftermath of chasing Lynn into the forest, she didn't quite remember much of him at the party. In fact, she hadn't even seen him since. "Partying isn't really something I've done much of." Why had he said that? If Lynn hadn't run off to the woods, she probably would have asked that exact question.

Eli looked him over, recognizing his tense stature that resembled a security officer. That's what she thought he was, before she realized he was another awkward, teenage para at the party. So, what could make a teenager stand in such a way? She considered a few possibilities, but it was hard to focus on the outcomes while Nicholas was picking away at his ear. Was he nervous? He seemed nervous at the party, too. In fact, she thought it odd that it would take him so long to respond to her question. She glanced over at Natalie, and wondered if Natalie had any hunches too. Was the guy just stuck in his head?

His mosquito excuse wasn't convincing, at all, and the full-bodied laugh didn't exactly sell the excuse either. Then he just stared at Natalie. A full on, almost confrontational stare. Eli's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before she looked over at Natalie. Seriously, what is with this guy? Was it her new look, or was he remembering something about her from the bonfire? Or the loading bay? She couldn't help herself, and gave Natalie an awkward smile. Should she apologize to her, after this encounter, for siccing such an odd scenario on them?

“Oh, sorry. I thought about it a little bit and, honestly, my mind just started wandering. No--not wandering, I.. Yeah. I was there. And I’m really sorry.”

Eli looked back to Nic and was relieved to see that he'd regrouped whatever was going on up in that head of his. So, he'd been in the loading bay. Maybe his mind was just a little messed up because of the trauma. Why apologize, though? Eli tilted her head to the side, and a look of concern came over her face. Despite how odd he appeared, Eli couldn't help but empathize for him. Sometimes someone just needs to get it all out, and maybe Nicholas felt that she herself was the person to trust with the dark thoughts.

And then he began to explain himself.

Eli listened closely, and found herself looking between his eyes, down at the scar on his arm, and back up at his face. So... that's where the explosion had come from. Eli felt her heart begin to beat faster within her chest as she relived the moment through Nic's eyes. She imagined the giant beast as it charged towards two helpless girls, one of them looking and acting exactly as she had that day. He's seen a lot of things? What kind of things? The apology made sense, now, in Nic's own odd way. He tried to help her, he tried to stop Archie- he didn't know it was Archie, of course- and now he felt bad because the explosion could have gotten her and Keaton too. It was touching that he would even try to help her, even if his actions had been reckless.

The rest of the details floated through Eli's mind and she assumed that the girls he was speaking of had been Amelia and Lynn. He even tried to help them, too. Eli swallowed, and found it hard to shake the feelings from that day from her now.

"It looked like you were having a real bad time with it all."

Yeah, that was an understatement. She'd been having the worst time of her life. Her people were being attacked, her friends were bleeding out around her, and her good friend hulked out and almost killed her and Keaton. Now she was about to go meet up with everyone. Even the one that Nic tried to save her from. Was she okay? Am I okay? Not really. Did she want to tell Nicholas? Not really, either, but she had this gut feeling that he was here now on good intentions. Maybe Nicholas could be the one that she laid out all of her raw emotions in front of.

"I'm..." She began, finding it hard to speak. "I'm not doing great, actually." She glanced between Nicholas and Natalie, and felt her cheeks burn from embarrassment. It was rare that Eli ever felt speaking truthfully in front of anyone about her own problems. Most of the time she was able to handle them on her own, and she never had to discuss them with anyone. She could count the amount of times she'd cried in front of someone on her hands, and most of them had been in front of Maddy. Like when she and Ezekiel had broken things off, or after the breakout when they grieved together for him. In any other instance, Eli was the one that looked out for her friends. It felt strange to admit her feelings to someone, but right now it felt right, too. Natalie was a good friend now, and Nicholas had secretly been there for her without letting her even realize it.

"I'm finding it hard to bounce back from this one, to be honest." This was too much. She was making it sound much worse than how she actually felt. Was she just lying to herself, when she told herself that she was doing fine? Reel it back in, Eli. This isn't your pity party. She recovered from the moment by giving her two friends a small smile. "I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way right now. I think I just need a bit more time to recover."

And maybe a bunch of tequila to help with it. God, when was the last time I got drunk?

Natalie Ellis

---

---

Natalie picked up on Nic's nervous energy immediately. What he was saying didn't quite make sense. He clearly didn't know or recognize her but he'd told her how wonderful it was to see her. She had spent most of her time on this station being similarly as guarded and nervous, and had made these kinds of errors, so she knew that it was just the anxiety-driven desire to speak regardless of what words were being spoken.

"I'm not really sure what happened in the forest either. I've...repressed that memory and don't really want to bring it back right now, if that's okay."

She'd then watch him, and more specifically his face and eyes, over the next minute. Something was going on in his head. He was being bothered by it, and he was putting his finger to his ear. A tic? He was ignoring the both of them now. Whatever was happening in his head was taking up his attention. Nat met Eli's eyes, and looked concerned. The corner of Nat's mouth pulled taut and she wondered if they should really just wait for him to come back to them. But before she could make any moves on this, he snapped out of his stupor and made up an excuse, which Nat made no reply to but it was clear in her face she wasn't buying.

The moment he mentioned the loading bay, she saw his eyes dart to her a lot, and even settle on her once or twice. She was now convinced that he did in fact recognize her from the footage. He might even be scared of her, but he was so nervous anyway right now that she couldn't tell. What she could tell was there was a wariness with the way he looked at her, and even though the judgement of strangers no longer bothered Nat, this was somebody Eli knew. He wasn't a stranger. His fear did bother her a little bit.

She listened to his story. She vaguely remembered being knocked down by an explosion whilst trying to keep Archie away from Eli. Hearing that he was responsible, that he had tried to kill Archie, made her whole body tense. She understood his reasoning, and she'd have done the same with his lack of knowledge, but the thought that he could have hurt Archie could not escape her mind. She clenched her fists and looked away as she listened to the rest of his recapping of events. At least he was sorry and had regret. She shouldn't be angry at him for making a mistake. She knew this. But the anger wasn't going away.

Luckily for all parties involved, Eli mentioning she wasn't doing great, out loud, disarmed Natalie, and she felt her anger leave as it was replaced with concern for Eli. She put her hand on Eli's shoulder and smiled encouragingly at her.

"Well, that's what you have your friends for, and this meeting will probably help with that. Trust me, I know from experience that right now you need your friends the most. I shut you all out and I still regret it."