Secret identities are a tricky thing. Once the cat comes out of the bag, there’s no putting it back in. For the Guardians and corporates, that’s not a terrible issue, thanks in large part due to their comprehensive protection programs.

For indies and villains, though, your identity being out there means you’re boned. Sure, they might not act on it first, but the moment you got a little too far, or the Guardians want you a little too much, it’s midnight raids on your house. It’s your family being taken hostage. It’s a Washer, coming to turn you into a goddamn remote-controlled vegetable.

Don’t slack if you’re not a villain, either. Do you think you alone can protect everyone that matters to you?

Spoiler alert: You can’t.

- Interview with corporate hero Ashwind during his debut, eight months after he began his career as an independent

#

“Mantis, was it?” Sunrise asked.

His voice was too familiar. He was too familiar. The hero had changed, of course, but it wasn’t enough for Vivian to not remember.

He’d been on outreach that night. As a Guardian, he’d accepted the duty to deal with vulnerable minors who had experienced profound loss, and the death of the second direct family member in the same year had certainly qualified.

Then, she had thought he wasn’t helping, but he had stuck with her even as she had tried to reject his kind words, kicking and screaming. Over time, Vivian had come to appreciate what he was trying to do, if not the actual execution of it. She hadn’t stopped trying to get him to give up on her.

Now, Vivian wondered if that had been a ploy. The Guardians were nothing like the image they painted of themselves. There were good people within the organization, but her interactions with them after becoming a hero left her second-guessing every interaction she’d had before.

When Sunrise had come to comfort her, had it been because the Guardians had known that she was at risk of gaining access to a vial? If she had manifested powers that night, would he have taken her to the San Francisco Guardians’ Washer team like Alexander had?

Vivian realized she’d been silent for too long.

Moment of truth. If her voice changer didn’t work, she was boned. It had been a while since she had last talked to Sunrise, but there was no way he had forgotten how she sounded.

“Mantis is fine,” she said, cringing inwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

“She’s a Kinetic,” Lycoris said. “Super important in helping us take down Jekyll. He’s dead, by the way. Amazon carried out the kill order.”

No flicker of recognition at Vivian’s voice. Good. He cocked his head in apparent surprise at Lycoris’ comments, but nothing shook Sunrise. It never did.

“I recognize the name,” he said. “The pleasure is all mine. You haven’t been active very long, have you?”

“Only a month or so,” Vivian admitted. “This is my first time leaving the town I’m based in.”

“West Lafayette, correct?” Sunrise asked.

A chill ran down her spine. Why did Sunrise know that? Nobody had announced Vivian’s presence, and she’d literally arrived in Chicago yesterday. Why would he be looking her up?

“Yes, that’s correct,” Vivian said. Her ears warmed, like she was a kid caught lying to her dad. “Why do you ask?”

“I have a friend there,” Sunrise said. “Around the same age as you two young ladies. I’m glad to know that the city is in good hands.”

Vivian tensed, then forced herself to relax. The hero’s statement induced an odd mixture of relief and fear within her—on the one hand, it looked like he hadn’t recognized who she really was, but on the other hand, he’d mentioned her real identity. Did he talk about Vivian often? She sure hoped not.

“The best of hands,” Lycoris assured him. “Alright, that’s introductions done! Want to come observe the scene?”

“Please show me the way,” Sunrise said.

Just as they were about to go up the stairs, the doors burst open, and two Southeast Asian looking children scurried down the steps, each of them carrying a backpack and two plastic shopping bags. Their mother followed after, burdened down by four or five separate black trash bags of what Vivian presumed were personal belongings. Last in line was Barbarian, who gave the family a brief set of instructions and led them outside before hopping right back up the stairs.

“You’re evacuating the building?” Sunrise asked. “Was it destabilized?”

“One apartment was super damaged,” Lycoris said. “We’re following protocol. Just to be safe and all. It’s your guys that are going to handle that, I think.”

“It is,” Sunrise sighed. “I assume you called it in to the SRU? If not, I can handle it.”

“I did,” Lycoris said.

“It’s always a pleasure to work with competent partners,” Sunrise said.

“Aw, you really know how to butter a girl up,” Lycoris said.

The hero deigned not to respond to that. “Lead the way.”

“I’m going to stay here, if that’s alright,” Vivian said shakily. She was pretty sure her voice changer was on, but she really didn’t want to risk Sunrise recognizing her. Also, she really didn’t want to go up those stairs. “I have a gunshot wound that I’d rather not reopen.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Sunrise said. “You’ve done well, kid.”

“Thanks,” Vivian replied, surprised by how much she meant it.

She spent the next while sitting alone in the lobby, watching as the stairwell alternately depostied heroes and civilians. About ten minutes on, a group of vans showed up outside with SRU stenciled onto its side in big bold letters, and a group of well-dressed men and women with suits and badges got out to talk the people outside and take them away.

Vivian frowned when they arrived, then flagged down Lycoris when the other heroine stepped back into the alleyway.

“Didn’t we have to stop at the edge of the lockdown?” she asked. “Why can the SRU just pull in?”

“The lockdown is s a joint effort by the SRU and the Guardians,” Lycoris explained. “We’re not on their shit list, but we’re not their best friends, either, so we don’t get to break the rules. If you’re in the organization, though… rules for me, not for thee. That’s how the saying goes!”

Well, wasn’t that bleak.

Vivian hoped that they were being taken to a shelter and not a waiting mind-control super.

All in all, it took them thirty minutes to clear out the civilians, and another ten to make sure that the SRU squad dispatched to their apartment was the body team, not under enemy influence, and equipped to cart three barely intact corpses down multiple flights of stairs.

It was bloody work. Vivian was glad she wasn’t the one doing it.

The Echelon group plus Sunrise reformed just outside the lobby after they’d gotten everything sorted out. The building didn’t look like it was at immediate risk of collapse, but given the current state of this section of the city, it was likely going to be a while before someone qualified to examine it could be brought in.

“What’s going to happen to the people who evacuated?”

“Temporary housing in the Guardians HQ,” Amazon said. “Though given the number of people displaced by the suicide supers, there may not be room for them.”

“Where do they go instead?”

“Holding cells,” Lycoris said. “Jail, basically. It’s that or come back. This will totally shock you, but most people choose to go back instead of staying in jail.”

“So the evacuation was for nothing?” Vivian frowned. “That sounds wrong.”

“Image, image, image!” Lycoris chirped. “That’s the number one rule of superheroing, right after the number one rule that says ‘don’t die.’ It doesn’t just apply to us—the SRU and the Guardian Agency get to think about it, too!”

Vivian really should not have been surprised by that, but she found that as low as her opinion of the Guardians already was, it could still get lower.

“That’s not an entirely fair description of the situation,” Sunrise said, hovering over to their group.

Vivian’s face heated. Had he been listening? She’d made sure that her voice changer still worked, but with how broken the helmet looked, there was every possibility that she was one wrong move aaway from it fritzing out forever. She didn’t want to speak more than she had to.

“Unfair, maybe, but accurate,” Amazon said. “Is there anything else you need to do here, Guardian?”

“Not particularly, no,” Sunrise said, somehow managing to make an otherwise curt statement sound warm and authoritative at once. Vivian called it his teacher voice. It was scarily effective at getting him what he wanted. “I did want to get to know you, though. You’re corporate?”

“Echelon,” Shockwave said.

“You were assigned to be executioners?” Sunrise asked. “Am I right in assuming that?”

“Basically,” Barbarian said. He sounded bored. “Anything else? Or can we go home now?”

“I flew from San Francisco because the Guardians here needed another executioner,” Sunrise said genially. “If you are assigned to carry out another kill order, then I will be working with you again. Killjoy’s is coming, I think. It’s good to get an idea of who your friends are.”

This was not the Sunrise Vivian was used to. The voice was the same, the tones, even the body language—but the Sunrise she knew had talked about baseball games and the stock market and recent technological breakthroughs and books.

This was Sunrise, the Guardian.

Why did that damn organization seem to corrupt everything it touched?

Maybe Vivian was making too hasty a judgment, but she didn’t recognize this version of him. It was the same person, with the same face, but the words coming out of his mouth were impossible.

How could someone talk about carrying out murder so easily? How was it that he sounded less serious when he was talking about the formation of a literal assassination squad than when he had analyzed the end of Grapes of Wrath?

She shook her head, trying to keep the motion unnoticed as much as possible. Not the time, not the place.

“We may work with you again,” Shockwave said. “Do you have our profiles?”

“The local Guardians have been kind in providing me information,” Sunrise said, nodding. “I haven’t looked at it yet. I will.”

“Would you like to train with us?” Shockwave asked.

Vivian looked from Shockwave to Sunrise and back, hoping her dismay didn’t show in her body language.

No, no, no, no, no. She could not train with Sunrise the same way she had with the other Echelon folks. If they revealed her identity to him—

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Then what? What was she so scared of?

“I’m your friend,” the mind-controlling freak said.

“Nobody from my old life remembers my name anymore,” said Alexander.

She couldn’t let that happen again. The Lafayette Guardians knew who she was, but the data hadn’t spread far. The agency seemed to have its own troubles with intra-department communication, which meant that it was highly likely that San Francisco had no clue who she was.

Vivian wanted to keep it that way. Sunrise personally knew her dad. He knew her. He knew who Vivian was on her worst, darkest days.

She couldn’t let him know who she was now, and it wasn’t in the same way she couldn’t let Dad know.

Sunrise was a Guardian, and Vivian could not trust the Guardians.

“I’ll have to decline, unfortunately,” Sunrise said. “I have a list of targets, and… are you aware of the situation with Indianapolis?”

“We are,” Lycoris said. “You’re investigating?”

“Chicago Command thinks that I’m a natural choice for it,” Sunrise said. “I’m fast, I’m powerful, and I’m durable. I agree with them. So, I’m going to spend most of the rest of my day flying with Indianapolis superheroes and taking back the lockdown zone.”

“Best of luck, boss,” Barbarian said, giving the hero a sloppy salute. “We’ll see you the next time we need someone to laser a baddie’s face in.”

Sunrise took that comment in with his usual genial behavior. “Of course. Until next time. Call Director Williams if you need me.”

He dropped his hover, crouched, and jumped. His flight kicked in a few feet above the ground, and the radiance around his body intensified.

“Seems like a nice dude,” Barbarian said. “Is that our jobs done for today?”

“For now, yes,” Amazon said. “HQ has nothing new for us.”

“You know what that means!” Lycoris crowed.

“No I don’t,” Vivian said.

“It’s time for my favorite part of the day!” Lycoris said, throwing an arm around Vivian’s shoulder. “Social media!”

Vivian shuddered.

#

They returned to Echelon HQ without any further incident. Vivian felt like she should have been more emotionally impacted by the extremely gory deaths of three separate supers, one of whom she had forced to overdose on a drug that might have been cocaine or Dance, but in all honesty?

It was getting easier.

That scared her more than the process of the actual killing did. Vivian wished she had a more physical power. Super strength, maybe. Something like Amazon’s without the horrible, horrible self-harm part. That looked like it made it feel real.

Amazon hadn’t quite been able to hide the quaver in her voice after, and that was enough for Vivian to know that despite her tough, cold facade, the A-rank Brawler had still felt the impact of the death she’d caused.

It was a fucked up thing to want that, wasn’t it? It was better for Vivian’s mental state that she didn’t regret what she did. It was better for her sanity that she wasn’t going to have nightmares about it.

But was it better for her?

She thought back to Sunrise, who had been charming and cheerful and friendly and had just now casually discussed who he was going to kill next.

Was that what she wanted for herself?

Pointless philosophical questions aside, she had gear to repair.

The temporary costume that EHC had made for her worked really well. She kind of felt bad for thinking that when Lachlan had spent so much on her first costume, but the new one had more breathable fabric, and she didn’t feel like she was nearly as exposed wearing it.

Sadly, the part of her original costume that she did vastly prefer to Echelon’s variation was broken, and nobody at the organization was willing to or capable of fixing it.

So instead, she went into Costumes bare-faced.

It was yet another gamble, but there were no cameras in here. She wasn’t likely to see Eva and Mark again outside of Echelon, and they didn’t have much power in the organization itself, so she decided it was worth the risk.

Once again, Lycoris accompanied her.

“Mmmm… yeah, the helmet is unsalvageable,” Eva said. “I’ll get the mask. Mark, you explain.”

“With pleasure,” the other costumer said. “Right, so this is a bit of a blessing in disguise for your branding. To be bluntly honest, Mantis Shrimp is a very hard brand to sell. Like we said previously, we’re trying to lean into the first half of that name—Mantis.”

Vivian winced. “Yeah, I get that the name isn’t great. I, uh, got it from a friend.”

Mark waved it off. “It’s fine. If you were a full hero, we would do a rebrand, but as it is, you’re gaining popularity pretty steadily as an indie. The Mantis vibe works with you, too—elegant but deadly, quick but powerful strikes? Yeah, it’s good.”

“I wouldn’t think elegant when I think of the fights I’ve gotten into,” Vivian said drily.

“You haven’t seen yourself,” Lycoris replied.

“We can make you look elegant.” Mark shrugged. “Part of the image is selling—to be frank—your, uh, physical image.”

“He means your sex appeal,” Lycoris said. “Mark, you really gotta get used to telling people that. You’re totally fine when it’s the men.”

“It’s not weird when—okay, whatever. Yes. We don’t want to go over the top, obviously, because that’s not who you are, but we want to highlight what your audience might find attractive. Usually, that’s the eyes. We’ve found that in the supermajority of heroes, exposing the eyes leads to an increase of engagement of up to twenty percent!”

“Lycoris doesn’t have her eyes exposed,” Vivian pointed out. “I don’t really pay attention to eyes—”

“You think you don’t pay attention to eyes,” Mark corrected.

“Sure, whatever. I’m sure her eyes are fine, but Lycoris wears a visor that covers them.”

Lycoris took said visor off. “Ayaka when I’m not in costume, remember?”

“We A/B tested her facial features and found that her lower face works better,” Mark said. “We don’t have the luxury of time and resources to do the same with you, so our mask just exposes your eyes.”

“…Alright, then,” Vivian said at last.

It was a lot to digest. The clinical way he dissected it made it feel less organic by far. Though she liked the costume a lot, she got a lot less joy out of the process than she had when Lachlan had gone clothes shopping with her.

And the fact that they were focusing on what parts of her body they could flaunt—that set her skin crawling. She knew that it was for her own good, and the matter-of-fact manner that Ayaka and Mark both approached it with told her that this was nothing out of the ordinary, but Jesus, it felt gross.

Eva walked in a bit after Mark finished his spiel, carrying a crate that was way too large to only fit one mask.

“These should be the same as the one we had for you last time,” Eva said. “They have different functions, though, so—”

“Voice filter,” Vivian interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“I need a voice filter,” Vivian said. “People know my voice at, uh, school.”

She stumbled over the last words. Admitting that Sunrise had known her civilian identity was tantamount to presenting these people everything they needed to dissect her life on a silver platter. The words she chose were lame, but they didn’t reveal anything in particular.

“We assumed you would ask that, given your initial helmet,” Eva said. “We would like to raise the option of not using a filter, though.”

“Why?”

“Did you take public speaking lessons in high school?” Mark asked.

What kind of question was that? Why was it so accurate?

“Yes,” Vivian said. “Why?”

“You speak well,” Ayaka said. “Your voice works great on video. One of my personal editors got back to me with an edit, and it sounds gorgeous, but your voice works better when it’s not going through a filter.”

“I need a filter,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “That’s non-negotiable.”

She wasn’t going to take any chances. Not while the threat of the Guardians loomed above her.

Eva shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“It can be accounted for,” Mark said. “Take a look at your options.”

Sure enough, there were at least a dozen different lower face masks in the crate Eva wheeled in. They all looked pretty similar, but upon closer inspection, they were fairly distinct. Some of them were smooth, like any standard cloth mask, while others looked more like they’d come straight out of a Renaissance fair.

There was a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the fitting room. Unlike the last time, the three others didn’t vacate the area. She wasn’t taking her clothes off, so it made sense that they didn’t leave.

Still, it was a bit uncomfortable, especially after the conversation they’d just had.

The masks didn’t come alone. Just like Mark had said last time, there was a cowl aspect to this. Now that her helmet was cracked beyond use, she could wear it.

To her surprise, the cowl wasn’t just for show. There was an earpiece embedded into the fabric—the same kind she was sure the other corporates had been using before. That could come in handy.

She already missed the convenience of the rear camera on the helmet. Vivian was going to need to figure out another way to handle that.

That aside, she did need to pick from the masks. Each of them came with an air filter, which was genuinely useful. Against Killjoy, someone who Vivian knew was a fan of using airborne aerosol drugs, these gave her a better chance to win a fight.

Apart from that, they all had different effects, some more useful than others. One of them glowed in the dark—Mark insisted on turning the lights off for that. That was also how Vivian learned that the marking at the chest of her costume glowed in the dark if she pressed a switch in her gloves.

“I’m never using that,” she said, taking the mask off. “Why would I present myself as a target when it’s dark? Don’t answer that, I know why.”

“You could film a music video in that,” Ayaka said. “I have a glowy costume that I’m doing one in sometime soon.”

Image, image, image. Vivian wondered if the Guardians also thought like this. There was so much more of an emphasis on what it looked like they were doing than what they actually did. It felt wrong, especially when there were real people dying every time they went out.

Maybe they were just brutally desensitized to it. Vivian had only gone out a handful of times now, and she was already growing scarily numb to the sight of death.

She didn’t want to think about moral quandaries now, though, so she went back to looking at the masks.

Most of the additional effects were just for show, like the green flames her gloves could trigger. She hadn’t used that feature during the Jekyll kill order, mostly because she’d forgotten it was there, and she figured that most of the other stuff here was on the same order of uselessness.

Seriously, when would she get an opportunity to use a mask to smoke? And why?

“Oh, we partner with Jewel Tobacco,” Max explained. “For people who already use their product, we have promotional costumes.”

“Ew,” Vivian said. “Er, sorry. I don’t smoke. Or vape. Or whatever.”

Max shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“You should try it sometime,” Ayaka said.

“You are a terrible influence,” Vivian replied.

Eventually, Vivian settled on a simple, smooth one. It didn’t have the fancy biometrics that the other ones did, but it had the most effective air filter, was the lightest by far, and was the only one with an effective voice filter. Rather than a simple pitch shift her voice, speaking through it gave her a mechanical lilt to her words. Vivian thought it made her sound like a robot, which was good enough for her.

“This works,” Eva said, sweeping her eyes from Vivian’s eyes to her knees. “We can make this work.”

“Thanks,” Vivian said as earnestly as she could. This entire day had left her feeling more than a little unclean, but she did appreciate getting more free stuff.

“This was mask… seven?” Mark said, squinting at Vivian’s covered mouth. “Yeah, it is. We’ll keep it on file in case you start working with us for real.”

“Thanks, everyone!” Ayaka exclaimed, nudging Vivian. “Come on. I have some stuff to show you.”

Vivian allowed herself to be pushed from the fitting room. She felt a bit awkward still being masked up when Ayaka had her full face out, so she decided to store it in her bag for the time being.

“I need a shower,” Ayaka declared. “Then we can look over what we’ve got in store.”

The rest of Echelon had gone to their own separate apartments as well. Nobody was in the common room, so the two of them went back up to Ayaka’s apartment together.

Ayaka showered, then let Vivian have a turn.

As the scalding water washed dirt, sweat, and blood that wasn’t hers off of her body, Vivian couldn’t help but think about how little everyone seemed to care.

For Amazon and Shockwave, it was a job completed. One with casualties, yes, but still just a job. Amazon had seemed to be glad that they had achieved the objective, and if it wasn’t just her imagination, Shockwave had been trying to cozy up to Sunrise at the end there.

Barbarian had just seemed excited to be able to get back to playing video games.

And just like always, Lycoris had treated it as a media opportunity.

Vivian liked these people. She wasn’t afraid to admit that to herself.

But did she want to be like them?

“Hey, Viv, you good in there?” Ayaka shouted from her living room.

“Yeah, one moment!” she shouted back.

Right. She still had a video to look over.

Vivian finished her shower, toweled off, and borrowed more of Ayaka’s spare clothes, once again opting for something plain and simple.

Ayaka was sprawled out on the couch, holding a tablet above her head.

“Hey, Viv,” she said. “Did you distribute the cash yet? I realize I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, shit,” Vivian said. “I totally forgot.”

“Let’s split it now, then,” Ayaka said. “Better we do it now than earlier, actually. I bet twenty bucks that the Guardian would’ve tried to confiscate all of it for the government.”

Vivian opened her mouth to defend Sunrise—he was her friend, despite what she might say—but she closed it before she could spill too much. Instead, she said, “You think so?”

“I’ve seen it a few times,” Ayaka said. “Now let’s split.”

Vivian was glad she’d picked as large a bag as she had. There had been quite a fair chunk of cash stored away in the hideout. They counted how many bills were in each stack, then the value of each stack. They weren’t even, unfortunately, but they got a ballpark estimate.

There was a lot of cash. Split five ways, it would be much less, but she was pretty sure she was going to clear over ten grand.

Ayaka whistled. “Pretty good haul.”

That made at least, what, thirty thousand dollars in the past few days? Wasn’t that how much someone like Vivian was expected to make in an entire year?

That was incredible.

She should have been happier about it, but she wasn’t. Maybe it was because, even a few years after her family had lost half their household income, she still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of not having enough money. Vivian felt a brief hint of warm accomplishment when she saw how much she’d earned, but all she could think was, does this really matter? And will I even get the chance to do this again?

Vivian sighed deeply, as if she could exhale all her negativity away.

“You want to watch the video I got back?” Ayaka asked. “It doesn’t have much current footage, but I think it’s pretty kickass.”

“Sure,” Vivian said, not sure what to expect.

The other heroine did something with her tablet, and the TV powered on, presumably mirroring whatever was on her screen.

Vivian was not prepared to see herself on a screen. Sure, she’d seen leaked clips of herself fighting before, but this was—this felt weird. She knew that it was probably only her, Ayaka, and her editor who had even seen this video, but seeing it displayed on a television made her feel more important than it should have.

Ayaka hit play.

Vivian didn’t recognize the Mantis in the video. Just like Ayaka’s, it was a short, highly edited clip set to some catchy pop track, but this time, Vivian remembered being there.

Her memories of how the events had occurred didn’t jibe with what was displayed on the video—and hell, she hadn’t even realized half of these had been recorded.

It started with the leaked clip of her fighting the suicide super, then segued straight into startlingly high-resolution CCTV footage of her at the bank, then her knocking Whiteout out with a hit to his nerves, then finally a view from behind as she threw her cloud of black powder and chalk into the plane.

The costumed Vivian in the video did not look like the girl Vivian knew herself as. She looked badass. Not at all panicked or desperate like she’d been in reality.

“Huh,” was all she could say at the end. “That was… cool.”

“Weird, isn’t it?” Ayaka said. “We never act how we think we do. It tripped me up the first time, too.”

“Really weird,” Vivian said. “So, this video… I should post it? Do I need to make a TikTok?”

“You don’t have to, but it would really help.” Ayaka shrugged. “You want to go corporate, don’t you? It would be better to have a profile.”

Am I really doing this? The city was on the edge of collapse. They had just killed a man and watched two heroes die. There was every chance that they were going to be called out for another similarly bloody battle. Was she really going to learn how to use a social media platform in the middle of all this?

Then again, they hadn’t been called out yet. They weren’t doing anything else in the meantime, either.

Vivian groaned. “Alright. Walk me through this.”