MIRA

Right down a few blocks or so was Town Square, Stephens Park, and with it, a plaza of shops surrounding it. The coffee shop that Henry had been referring to was Barkley's Brew. It was less commercial of an establishment, with an assortment of mismatched furniture in a modern color palette in neutral tones, with plants everywhere.

Henry bought coffee for the two of us as we took a booth near the main window of the shop.

"You didn't have to do that," I said as we sat down.

"You said you didn't get to try things like this." Henry shrugged. "You deserve nice things, you know."

I blinked. Once. Twice. I still didn't know what to make of that. It was against what we had been taught.

"Not the saviors of the city," I whispered, staring down the paper cup with guilt churning my stomach. "We're supposed to be above simple pleasures. We were only supposed to train or be educated. But only where it was relevant. Our only leisure was combat games to prepare us for our future. There wasn't time for anything else."

"You weren't even allowed to have things you liked to do?" His lip curled, his hazel eyes were shining. His grip tightened on the paperboard cup with the logo of Barkley's Brew on the side.

His anger made me uncomfortable. "Well, we're tools. Not people."

He reached a hand for mine. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that."

"Like what?" I did not pull my hand away.

"Like you're an object, or you can't have feelings. It's just— it's so messed up."

I looked to my hands in my lap. My voice sounded so small, coming out, that I didn't even recognize it. "It's all I know, Henry."

"I— I'm not angry at you." Traces of that anger still flashed in his hazel eyes. "I don't understand the Sentinels, or Atomic Energy at all. None of this is okay."

"You don't have to understand it." I sat up more primly. "Besides, we have work to do. A mission."

Henry opened his mouth, looking as if he were going to argue further. Then he seemed to think better of it. "You're right."

He set Heretic's file on the table in front of us. The printouts spilled out slightly. I pulled it open to see a rather large stack of papers greet us.

"I didn't realize she was so prolific." I scanned the records. "Both as a hero and a villain."

"I remember when she was a hero." His hazel eyes were somewhere faraway. "Did you ever hear about what happened to her villains?"

"No." That part had been missing when we were informed about Heretic by Dr. Banning.

"She talked to them, and some retired," he said. "Some like Mastermind— one of the first villains. She had a way of getting to the heart of everyone. Partially because she was such a good person. I used to think she could do no wrong."

"And also. . . " I didn't say it because we were in public, but I understood it nonetheless.

"Yes, because of that." Henry caught on immediately. "But I guess we should get to work, shouldn't we?"

"Yes, right, sorry." I grabbed the

First was the aftermath of what happened with Dr. Electra. The first file reported that Heretic helped the cops search out the hideout that was abandoned. And it was located in the old site of Kingsbury, from before 1979.

Paper clipped to the article was a police note— inside there was some technology created or repurposed by Dr. Electra.

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But some of it was untouched, and bore the logo of Atomic Energy.

"You need to take a look at this." I passed the photo to Henry.

He visibly paled. "I recognize the place."

"But look at the logo—what was Atomic Energy doing with equipment like that?" I prompted.

"Oh my God." His hazel eyes widened. "What did Verity say—'they're lying to you?'"

"Yes." This wasn't anything substantial, but it was something that caused unease, something that could not be easily explained away.

What was Atomic Energy doing in Old Kingsbury, in an abandoned site, and why did they have equipment that Dr. Electra could use for her twisted experiments?

"I don't know what it means," I finally said. "But it isn't good."

Henry ran a hand through his hair and nodded. He was spacing out—I wondered if it was because of his kidnapping all those years ago.

"Let's put a pin in this, we'll come back to it later." I flipped through to the next major incident. The big one—the defining moment of her career, and when she shifted from hero to villain.

The fire at City Hall. She'd killed an archivist, an Ophelia Browning. The daughter of the police chief, I noticed.

The records of heroes and villains had been completely destroyed. There were no backups, so everything we knew about the Mutated in our city was gone.

Ophelia Browning, according to the notes, had been trying to save those when she faced off against Heretic and lost her life.

Henry frowned as he pulled the forensic results.

"She died of a knife wound?"

We both looked up at each other—Heretic had never been known to use knives. And if it was a result of her powers, that would have been listed as the cause of death. . .

"Someone else killed Mrs. Browning," Henry murmured. "Do they show a picture—"

Indeed, there was a picture enclosed. The top of the long black and silver knife was melted from the heat. But I could still decipher the symbol at the hilt, inlaid in silver. I would know that symbol everywhere, as it had watched me like a single eye all my life.

"Atomic Energy had something to do with her death." I whispered. It didn't feel like the right thing to say in a beautiful evening cafe like this one.

My parent company couldn't be behind this. I didn't want to believe it. There had to be some other explanation.

But something bad was happening. Otherwise, Verity's last words wouldn't make any sense.

They're lying to you.

Henry placed his head in both his hands. His eyes were somewhere faraway. "How deep does the rabbit hole go?"

"Huh?" I was drawn out of my thoughts by the strange phrase.

"Book reference." He waved his hand casually, finally sitting up straight again. "Means that this goes deeper than we know."

"We need a plan, then." I looked at the evidence spread in front of us. "What do we go after first?"

"I think we've got a better shot of finding something in the hideout at Old Kingsbury." He frowned at the picture of the knife. "I have a feeling that piece of evidence has long since been buried, and its photograph being included was a mistake."

"You mean that you think Atomic Energy covered it up, and the police agreed to it?" Such injustice, being above the law. . . It was unthinkable to me.

"I think that's the least of our problems at this point." He looked to his coffee. "So I guess we should plan out what we're going to do it."

I glanced at my watch. "We're going to have to plan it quick. I have to go soon."

I took a sip of the latte—-I was surprised by how much I liked the taste of sweet coffee.

"It's too bad," I said, looking out the window. "I never get to relax and just. . . See the city like this. Or just exist, enjoy myself. I guess that's a good thing. I do have a job to do."

"That's alright," he assured me. He then looked at me kind of funny. "You deserve a break, too, every once in a while."

I shook my head. "I have a duty— I can't—"

"Mira." His voice was amazingly calm. "You get to have feelings, too. You're human, for better or for worse. And that's okay."

But was I, though? I had grown so quickly— not to mention that I'd had the abilities that not many humans had.

"You're thinking that I don't understand."

I looked back up to him. "What, did you pick up mind-reading recently?"

Henry laughed. "Fortunately, no. But I know how it feels. Power, responsibility, all of that. It seems unfair at times, doesn't it?"

"I've been considering that more than I should."

"I know." He sounded so sad, I couldn't bear his pity.

"Well, what do you do for fun, then?" I desperately wanted to turn the tables on him, so maybe my life wouldn't sound so pathetic, so meaningless—

"I did tell you that I do drama." Henry sat back. "I do the technical work, though. I'm not much of an actor. I prefer working with special effects, sets, that kind of thing anyway."

"So, like, lighting, sound effects—" I struggled to recall the brief unit on theaters we were given to make it easier if we had to fight in them.

"A great many things, like that, yes." Henry smiled and nodded. "Don't tell anyone, but I also like to make and design costumes."

"So you made your—"

He nodded. "No superpowers for that."

"Wow."

"I also make short films— but please don't google those," he added hastily, turning bright red. "I'd prefer no one sees those. No one that can tell me how bad they are, anyway."

"I won't," I promised. Not that I'd be able to, anyway. Or have the time.

I then checked my watch. "So when do we want to go looking around?"

"Probably on Saturday," he said. "You have to go?"

I frowned. "Unfortunately."

"Well, that's too bad."

"I agree." I stood. "Thank you, by the way. You didn't have to stick with me, or do anything you've been doing."

"It was the right thing to do," he said simply.

"Still, I appreciate it."