MIRA

We met on the rooftop, right after I'd changed into my new disguise. I ran a hand through my shoulder-length brown hair, trying to get used to to the feeling of it. I'd been so used to tying my hair back, and the weight of this was different.

"You look good—like a normal person." He nodded his approval, then tilted his head to the side and squinted. "What about the hat?"

"Oh, this?" I snatched it out of the backpack, feeling the acrylic blue-gray threads beneath my fingers. "Wasn't sure how to wear it."

"I can help you." He hesitated, however, in reaching out. "Do you trust me?"

I knew it was just about helping with my civilian look, something I'd never been trained to do. That's all it was for him, at least.

But that wasn't the case for me. I felt like I was standing at a crossroads, a threshold, a point of no return. Like for some reason, what I said would change the course of history completely.

Did I trust him? Enough to betray my handlers, my parent company by working with him without their express permission?

"Yes."

It wasn't a reluctant answer by any means. But it was a leap of faith all the same.

He gently took the hat from my hands and adjusted it towards the back of my head, so it looked more like a halo in the imagery of saints on my head, and was more floppy than I'd tried.

"You look like a normal girl," he promised. "No one will think that you're a Sentinel."

I nodded. "Good. Where are we going first?"

"City Hall, to the official archives," Henry said as I set down the backpack and closed the abandoned pigeon coop. "They'll have copies of any public statements and declassified police records on the fire with Heretic—that was when she became a supervillain, defined her career. They have nearly everything, including all the birth and death records in the city."

I nodded, following him to the fire escape once more.

"So, how did your day go?" He asked, as if we were two perfectly ordinary people, doing ordinary things.

Which I guess we were pretending to be, but still.

"Stopped a car-jacking." I didn't know why I was telling him that, but it spilled out all the same. "Saved that poor old lady from some thugs. Had them captured before the police actually showed up, or the rest of my team, for that matter."

"You handled it on your own then?" He sounded surprised. "I thought most Sentinels would wait for backup."

"Not my team's strategy," I admitted. "I'm the only speedster among them, so they can't get to the scene of things as fast as I can. Sometimes they don't show up, because they know I can solve a petty thief problem before they could even try."

"That explains a lot," he muttered.

"Like what?"

"Why you're able to be here, without getting yourself in trouble." He hesitated before his next point. "Why you're more independent than the others."

"I guess it does," I said softly.

We were quiet on the rest of the climb down, and then the short walk to the tram station outside of the Silver Spires and North Kingsbury High School. The zoning was certainly convenient for parents who lived in the neighborhood.

I found riding on the trams rather exciting. Henry and I listened to another musical while I looked around at all the people. They were doing ordinary things, like playing on their phone, knitting, chatting, or reading the latest edition of the Daily Crown.

And yet it was interesting, just to see them doing what they did every day. Not as victims, or as problems to solve.

It was then that I realized that maybe I didn't used to see them as entirely human either. But not anymore.

These were the people with full lives and colors, that I was supposed to protect.

And I would with my dying breaths, just as I'd been trained to do.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The energy of the center of town was different, when I wasn't a hero in battle. City Hall and Stephens Park thrummed with life, pulsating with the rest of the city. Henry gestured for me to follow him up the marble steps and into the antechamber.

High vaulted ceilings displayed painted tile work in bright colors, contrasted with the more muted tones of the tiles at our feet and the uniforms of the city staff. Fake potted plants were everywhere, and there were far too many elevators, although on the left there was a grand staircase lined with polished wood. It even had a golden rug that went down the entirety of the stairwell.

It reminded me of the city bank simulation— like one of those spot the difference games Dr. Banning made us play to test our perceptive skills.

Henry stopped at the secretary's desk.

"Could you tell us where the public archives are?"

"To your right, and up on the second floor." She peered at us over her glasses. "You two are a bit young to be looking through those dusty old files."

"We're doing a school project," I said quickly. "On crime statistics with superheroes to compare for an analytical effect."

"Aren't you a smart cookie," she said condescendingly.

"Come on, Mira," Henry said, putting his arm around me. "Thanks, ma'am."

As we climbed the steps, he whispered, "You don't have to get so specific. In fact, please don't. I have to remember our lies."

"Not one of your powers, then?" I teased.

"Maybe, but I wouldn't know." We turned where she said to. "I never know what I pick up until I have to use it. Got more injuries than I can count where I thought I picked up a power I didn't actually get."

"How does it work?" I was suddenly fascinated.

"We can talk about that later." He looked away a moment, and then realized his arm was still around me. It retracted limply to his side. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright." I found myself reaching for my shoulder, trying to recreate the warmth, the pure sensation of human touch.

We entered the Archives. Brightly lit, it was made of a labyrinth of beige filing cabinets, arranged alphabetically. Some files, I suspected, were not so public, as they had keyholes in them. But the majority did not. At the end of the room was a large computer terminal with a full office suite of copiers, printers, and the works. As far as I could tell, we were the only ones in the room.

This was all the knowledge of the city and its inhabitants. I wondered if my own birth record was there. We'd been given up as children, for the greater good because of our powers, or so we'd been told by Dr. Banning.

For the first time I wondered about my parents, and if I could find them in there.

"Well, we should grab Heretic's file."

"I doubt we'll be able to take that," Henry argued as we followed the alphabetized trail to the H's.

"That won't be a problem."

"There are cameras," Henry said, pointing at one. "No audio, but they will still catch you."

He then waved to it very quickly before returning the task.

"Not what I meant, but I guess we can cross that option off."

We stopped in front of the H section. And found an entire drawer on Heretic.

"There's no way we're carrying all of this out."

"Come on, you took super-strength from someone, it's in our database," I said.

"Database—" he then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"We have access to everything the city has."

"I don't like that the city has all this information on us," he said as we pulled open the drawer. "Like I don't have enough to keep me up at night."

I blinked. "I'm sorry. I— I appreciate . . . everything you're doing to help me. Even if you don't care for the others like me."

"I wanted to help your friend," he confessed. "I wish I could get through to Heretic. But I can help you."

"Well, still, thank you."

"Ahem."

We looked up to see a distinguished elderly gentleman and a tall woman in a green dress and black leather jacket holding a tablet and a file.

"Oh, Ms. Lancaster, I forgot you were working here today, I should've let you know." Henry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You're not going to be able to take the paper files out of the building, sonny," the elderly man said. "We only lend out digital copies now, where all of the database is stored. It's the policy after the fire."

"We also thought you could use this." Ms. Lancaster handed Henry a file. "And quieter voices. You're lucky you were only heard by others like you."

"Oh." I paused. All civilians were supposed to register with the city when they discovered their powers. Schoolchildren had it registered for them, if they developed them in public schools.

Obviously, most hadn't done that, since the City Hall fire, although I wasn't sure why. After all, Atomic Energy had promised to take them in and train them to be Sentinels. Although I'd never heard of anybody actually joining the Sentnels, come to think of it. . .

"You guys. . . You're heroes, then?"

The man laughed so hard he started coughing.

"I have a file here," he finally said, a sly grin on his face. And then he walked away.

Ms. Lancaster stood over us, supervising as we closed the drawer.

"Henry, you ought to be more careful." Ms. Lancaster, however, was looking at me as she said it. It was the way she was looking at me that had me puzzled, though.

It was like I was a ghost.

"I will be," Henry promised. "Thank you—how did you know we were looking—"

"I had a feeling you've been wanting some questions answered a long time ago." Ms. Lancaster smiled to herself. "You know where to find me, if this doesn't satisfy you."

With that, she turned and walked away.

"How do you know her?" I whispered.

Henry blinked, hesitating. Then he looked away from me. "Just one of my mentors, at the college."

I didn't really have any information to ask further, so I just shrugged and changed the subject.

"Well, that was easier than we thought—where to?"

"Do you want to go to the coffee shop nearby?" Henry asked. "There's one here, in Town Square, around Stephens Park. We could sit there and read."

"Sounds good to me."

I was just happy to have a lead on all of this. Then I looked to Henry—I was surprised at how much he intrigued me.

"So you go to college classes?" I asked as we headed down the stairs."I thought you were in high school."

"I do part-time college classes," Henry admitted as we hit the ground floor. "High school gets kind of dull, after a while."

I still wondered if dullness might be preferable to missing Verity, to the loneliness that was coming over me after her death.

No one else seemed to care that our friend— our sister— was dead.

No matter, I thought to myself as we started for the coffee shop nearby. I would change everything.