Trying to calculate the true size of the Underworld was an exercise in futility.

The nineteen cthons occupied several thousand kilometers of twisting tunnels, interspersed with caverns, both natural and man-made, ranging from compact nooks and alcoves to behemoths that could fit in entire neighborhoods. Nobody really knew just how many sublevels there were – the tunnels were carved at a slight, nigh undetectable slant, and the caverns seemed to change size several times a month – the general opinion varied between several dozen and over a hundred. Underworld's denizens have long since given up on trying to map out their home and prioritized memorizing the few routes that they used in their everyday routine. It was an urban rumor – though not one actually disproven – that as long as you maintained a firm idea of your destination and didn't focus too much on the journey, you'll always reach your goal, regardless of which tunnel you enter.

The area outside the cthons was a vast, unexplored wilderness. Every once in a while, brave souls ventured into these unlit tunnels, but few of them ever returned. They brought tales of shifting shadows that seemed to disappear the moment one looked at them and of suspicious stains resembling prehistoric cave drawings, of ominous chanting that sounded differently to everyone who heard it and of being tapped on the shoulder – only to turn and find that there was nobody behind them.

While arguments raged regarding the veracity of these reports, there was one thing everybody could reach a universal consensus on.

Don't travel beyond the light.

They're waiting.

***

We fell upon the gang's hideout like a tidal wave.

The lookout had been silenced and dragged off into the darkness without a single noise, so a vengeful cowled bursting through the stone wall caught the raiders completely by surprise. With the majority of the gang still at the Grand Pyramid, it wasn't even a contest. Between the former thrall's raw power and Kirin's skill with all kinds of weapons, the struggle ended in under a minute. I let a few gangsters escape past me after tagging them. When not used in an active manner, my connections lasted a little over forty-nine hours, so the runaways would give me some extra eyes and ears in the enemy's camp.

“Sophie!” The very moment the fight was over, the cowled rushed to a crumpled blond figure lying among the rest of the haul pillaged from the Grand Pyramid. “Sophie, wake up!”

I knelt beside her and put my hand on the girl's head. It was hot.

“She's alive,” I told the older sister.

“She's not breathing!”

“She has several bullet wounds in her chest,” I shook my head. “The Cluster put her in a medical coma until it fixes the damage. Feel her skin – it's downright blazing.”

She hesitantly followed my directions.

“Nanites work out heat when they're active,” I explained. “Not enough to cause damage, but enough to feel like you've got high fever. That's how you know your sister will live. Nanites are machines, they don't give false hope.”

“We have to go,” Kirin returned to the room as silently as he left. “The locals will soon crawl out to investigate. I don't want them to be able to identify us to the rest of the mob.”

I hesitated.

If I stalled them here, Kirin and the cowled would have no choice, but to fight the Honests, giving me a much better chance of rescuing Blythe than if I did so on my own. Fighting a gang of this size without a plan, though... That would just be suicide.

I nodded.

“I know a place where we can wait things out.”

“Wait things out?” the heroine repeated, confused. “I... no offense to any of you, but I want to get out of this place as soon as possible.”

“None taken,” I shrugged. “But the closest Katabasis is in the Grand Pyramid, and that's not really a place you want to be in right now, particularly with an unconscious teenager.”

“What about the others?” she asked desperately. “I didn't come here through this one.”

“A wandering Katabasis?” My eyes narrowed. “Can you describe it?”

“It was... In an alley?” the brunette replied hesitantly. “There was a street nearby, and I couldn't see the ceiling.”

“Nothing else?”

She shook her head.

I sighed. A new entrance to the Underworld would have been an expensive, useful kind of information, but that wasn't nearly enough to pinpoint it.

“There are two other stabilized Katabasii,” I admitted. “But one of them is under control of Duke Yama, all the way in Diyu, and passing through is a hassle and a half.”

“And the other one?”

“In Irkalla. And that's one place nobody with a shred of intelligence goes to willingly,” I noticed Kirin turning his head in interest and explained. “It's King's domain.”

“Yeah, that... I'm not bringing my sister there,” the cowled grimaced.

“Then we need a place to stay.”

Which, conveniently enough, gave me the time to prepare my arguments. After all, they were a hero and a mercenary. How hard would it be to get them to help?

***

“No.”

Kirin's answer was blunt and unapologetic.

“What if I double the pay?” I tried again.

Horus' Nest was located at the very edge of Duat, perching on a cliff where Darkwater Falls crashed down into the abyssal depths of Tehom. Looking out the window revealed little except all-pervading blackness – there was no reflected light of the sun, the base of the Falls was so far below it might as well be a bottomless pit, and nobody bothered lighting a cavern this far away from the habitable regions. Nearly three kilometers of haphazardly lit, labyrinthine passages separated us from the nearest settlement; between that and my friendship with the owner of the inn, I felt as safe here as anywhere else in the Underworld.

It was a small, private place, and those in the know liked to keep it that way. The only entrance was an unilluminated stairway from the precipice up above, and the thundering of the waterfall smothered all other sounds. The lodge itself was rather nice, though. Faux-wooden paneling, soft carpets, warm beds and good food awaited any guest staying here. The only complaint could be raised regarding the lack of vacancies – all lodgings were held in perpetuity for their owners, so the four of us had to make do with my own abode. While it had plenty of room to stretch our legs – and even enough for the owner to bring in three more beds without making it seem cramped – it had only a single shower.

One that the woman claimed first, for herself and her sister, which left the two of us standing around awkwardly in the entryway, not wanting to sully bed covers or the clean clothing, thoughtfully provided by the owner, with dust, grime and blood.

“No.”

“Triple it?”

“No.”

“Don't you have any kind of professional integrity?” I huffed. “I hired you to keep me safe.”

“You hired me to get you out,” Kirin countered flatly. “Rescue operations not included.”

“Look,” I stifled the rising frustration and started again. “Think of it this way. I still owe you a favor. If I go get Blythe on my own, there's significant risk I will die, in which case you'll never get to cash in on that favor. You're just protecting your own investments.”

Kirin remained silent, but there was something in his expression that made it feel like he was frowning.

Something rustled in the bathroom, followed by the water being turned off.

“Why do you care?” though the tone remained emotionless, the abruptness of the question betrayed his curiosity.

I shrugged.

“Sometimes I ask myself that same question. Blythe is grumpy and not too brave and he never hid the fact that he doesn't like me very much. He's all that, but...”

I remembered that moment, back at the Katabasis, when we had just started our journey to the Underworld.

Trust in me a little, as well, I told him back then. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.

“I made a promise,” I turned my eyes toward the window, peering into that all-pervading blackness. It was impossible to distinguish between rock, air and water. Anything could happen out there, beyond the reach of the light, and nobody would ever know. “Promises are important. They're a measure of who you are in the dark.”

I turned toward Kirin and shrugged helplessly. This was getting a little too deep.

“And he did save my life during our trek through the Pyramid. I figure, I should repay that debt – or who's going to want to save my life next time?”

The bathroom door opened, and the cowled woman emerged, clean, smiling and with the younger girl in her arms. Though her hair was wrapped in a towel and she wore simple sweatpants and t-shirt, I couldn't help noticing that without all the mud and blood she was a lot more attractive than I first thought. Downright beautiful.

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“Triple.”

I blinked, turning back to Kirin.

“Triple?”

“Triple pay,” he nodded, slipping past me into the bathroom.

I smiled.

One down.

***

“I don't think we've been introduced,” the cowled actually beat me to the punch, extending her hand. “I'm Thi... Flare.”

“Carnival,” I replied bemused, shaking the hand.

Connection established.

“I've never heard of you before,” she tilted her head with a smile. It was an infectious smile, the kind that made you want to smile back.

“I like to stay under the radar,” I mimicked her. “What about you?”

“I'm... new,” the heroine paused.

“You seemed to hesitate before saying your name. Don't like it?”

She grimaced in an overly exaggerated manner.

“I wanted to go by Third Law first, because it's cool and because of my power,” completely misinterpreting my glance, she explained hastily. “I can consume kinetic energy that's directed at me and... kinda release it in a burning aura? It's complicated.”

My glance actually had less to do with confusion and more with sheer surprise at her frankness. This, more than anything else, marked her as a new cowled. Power intelligence was one of the most valuable secrets in our community. Down here, the information about capes' powers was worth at least one major favor, sometimes more – unsurprising, considering that it was the linchpin of many a heist. Up top, Administration compiled the details from all affiliated heroes to have an up-to-date data bank on all active and former villains.

I, personally, kept both the extent and the limitations of my ability hidden even among friends.

“Why Third Law, then?”

“It's Newton. Newton's Third Law of Motion.”

“For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction,” I blinked. “That's the nature of your super-strength.”

“Eh,” she waved her hand. “It's not really super-strength.”

“You nullify the forces acting upon you, including momentum and mass.”

“Not nullify,” she corrected me. “Weaken. Otherwise, I would rip right through them.”

I shuddered theatrically.

“Scary stuff. Why'd you change your name, then? Third Law seems like a good choice for both your power and, you know, enforcing the law.”

“I know, right!” She actually jumped up. “I even practiced my catchphrases, like 'Stop right there, criminal scum! Third Law is here!' or 'This is the law! Third Law!'”

She flopped back upon her bed like a balloon with all air sucked out of it.

“But that's why I couldn't do it. We met another heroine – on a crime scene we were late to – and she told me that using the word 'law' in your cowl name could be taken the wrong way. Like a political statement or even that you consider yourself to be the law in its totality, court and all. So, well... I changed to Flare.”

“It's something of a contentious topic,” I agreed.

But that wasn't what she wanted to hear, and her openness deserved to be reciprocated.

“I named myself Carnival in the heat of a moment,” I offered. “There was a situation – you'll forgive me if I don't go into detail – and I was in the kind of state where I just couldn't step aside. The villains were being stupid, the heroes were a blunt instrument in a situation that required a delicate touch, and I just had a really bad day. I grabbed a full-face mask, the flashiest coat my money could buy and strolled into the plaza like the whole place belonged to me. I remember there being a lot of threats, a lot of bluffing and a tinge of ironic violence. At some point a hero asked me: 'What are you, a clown?' and I couldn't freeze – and I wanted to, because I didn't think of a name – and there was a festival going on just outside, so I blabbed the first thing that came to mind: 'I am Carnival!'”

Flare snorted, scrunching up her nose.

“Really?”

“Aha,” I nodded. “I was wild back then. Reckless.”

“So you always wanted to be a villain?” she asked, intrigued.

“Since I was a kid,” I smiled at the in-joke. “And you always wanted to be a hero?”

“I wanted to join the police force,” she corrected me.

“Really?” this time I was the one who snorted.

“See, that,” she pointed at me. “That reaction. That's what I wanted to get rid of. People think that just because we have heroes now, we don't need police anymore, which is pure bullshit! Police work might not be as flashy, they might not do dramatic chases and showy shootouts, but they're still the ones making almost sixty percent of all criminal arrests! And over ninety percent of the ones that actually stick in court, since most heroes never bother to gather the evidence that would get the offender convicted! Police officers conduct criminal investigations, settle domestic disputes and organize community events, guide people during the evacuation and provide aid during disasters. I've seen da-a-a... dat one police officer get between two armed, violent groups of Patchmen that didn't even speak the same language and talk them down into a peaceful settlement – and he didn't even have any powers!”

Nice save, I mused. And quite an impassioned speech.

“And yet, here you are,” I noted. “A cape.”

“Well, yes,” she coughed, color rising in her cheeks. “I didn't actually plan on that. And I still want to join the police! Just... in a different way.”

“You must really want to help people, huh?”

Flare opened her mouth to reply, but caught my intention a second before she could actually agree. Her eyes flicked away guiltily.

I was loosing her.

“Steven Blythe needs our help,” I lowered my voice, making her lean in to listen. It was a petty trick, but when people strained to hear, they listened. Something that was harder to get was always worth more, even when it came to little things. “He's not a criminal, not even a cowled, just a man struggling with his debt. A good man. An innocent man. And now he's in the hands of some of the worst people in the entire Underworld.”

Flare shifted on the bed, almost like she wanted to stand up, to pace.

“I... can't. I can't leave my sister alone again. Not here.”

She refused to meet my eyes.

“I'm sorry.”

***

Kirin spent even longer in the shower than Flare. Judging by the amount of steam, the water had to be outright scalding.

I made several more attempts at engaging the young woman in dialogue, but the moment I tried to circle around to securing her aid, the conversation swiftly died out. When the inn owner entered with a soft knock and a tray of midnight snacks, I desperately welcomed the respite from the awkwardness.

“Thanks, Imset.”

The owner smiled and made his way out without a single word.

Flare stared at the closed door with an open mouth.

“That was a binarian!” she burst out.

“It was,” I agreed with a nod, building myself a sandwich from the platter of ham, cheese and crackers.

“A real one!”

“Mhm.”

“I mean,” she blushed, “I've seen some AI home helpers, you know, back in the city. They could talk to you and everything, but none crossed the sentience threshold. I've never met an actual binarian.”

You probably did, I thought, but did not say. The vast majority of binarian platforms mimicked the human form, nanites forging a mobile shell around the main processor. The only observable difference between a regular human and a binarian was the reversed coloration of the eye – a luminous white pupil set inside pitch-black sclera. I never found out if this was a technical difficulty or some kind of a societal norm, but, either way, it was easily concealed by a pair of sunglasses. Given the widespread prejudice and distrust among the populace, binarians had plenty reason to hide their true nature.

“I did say this place was safe,” I mentioned instead. “Anybody wishing to harm the inn's residents will have to get past Imset first.”

Flare growled under her breath, passive-agressively poking a plate of salad.

“How do you even know your friend's still alive?” she cried out finally.

Judging by the set of her face, the cowled regretted her words almost as soon as they left her mouth, but did not take them back.

“I have my ways,” I stated calmly.

Just in case, I checked my connection, but Blythe was still alert and in transit, herded away among the rest of the captives by the Honest Men as they retreated from Duat. It wasn't sufficient information to pinpoint his location, but they passed enough familiar landmarks that I would be able to track down whichever cavern they decided to use as a base. A number of raiders peeled away from the main group, scattering in every direction, but there were still at least a hundred of them left, and they were united by their boss, a man of singular capacity for destruction.

Huh, I paused in stacking a pyramid from my snacks. I might have been working from the wrong angle.

“Do you really want to be rescued?”

The woman froze.

In most cases, cowl psychology – trying to distinguish a person's inner character by what powers they had – was a bunch of pseudoscientific psychobabble, about as accurate as drawing tarot cards or reading tea leaves. Still, when I had nothing, I relied on the tools available. Flare's power had a clear element of self-transformation, of change. The underlying motif of not letting the world push her down; the desire to burn brightly despite all adversity.

I could use that.

“You entered the Underworld as a cape, a victorious hero pursuing a fleeing villain. You were captured, ingloriously, and had to rely on outside help to both escape and find your sister. You've ventured everything and gained nothing. You failed.”

“Don't you think I know that?” she barked, jumping to her feet and sending the plate flying. “I messed up. Is that what you wanted to hear? I went in too deep, too fast and had to be bailed out, as usual.”

“Are you satisfied with that?” I kept my tone even. “Do you really want that to be the grand sum of your odyssey?”

The cowled glared at me, clenching her fists so tightly, flickers of the fiery aura flared to life around her.

“This is your chance,” I told her. “A chance to make this trip mean something. To accomplish your goals instead of falling short.”

Flare flinched, as though she was struck. I didn't know which of my words resonated with her, but didn't hesitate to press the advantage.

“The Honest Men are an infamous gang. Their name would go unrecognized by the common citizen up above – mostly because nobody with two brain cells to rub together would let them near a Katabasis – but every cape that had ever visited the Underworld had clashed with them. Capturing their leader, bringing him in for judgement... it will be a victory.”

Flare breathed heavily, like she'd just ran a marathon, but there was a glint in her eyes. Hope.

Got you.

“We don't even know if their boss will be there,” her voice was quieter, thoughtful.

The course of the dialogue had finally changed. Flare wanted to be persuaded. Wanted a chance to regain her self-respect.

“He will be, I guarantee you.”

“There's no way of knowing where they're hiding.”

“Give me a few hours to get in touch with my contacts, and I'll give you the location.”

Flare breathed out, huffing. There was the beginning of a smile on her face.

“Fine, you win. This time.”

I let a cheeky grin spread across my face.

“Business as usual, then.”

Flare flipped me off. I laughed and finally bit into my cracker sandwich.

It tasted like victory.