Blacklight banked out of spectre on the outskirts of Atlanta. Before him stood a large, dirty amphitheatre, enclosed by towering forestry. Even in the dark, he could outline the dimensions of the stage, rows of poorly painted seats and peeling food stands.

His attention, though, was on the quartet in the sandpit.

Though Blacklight would never admit it, the Chaos Committee unnerved him. It was like looking at four perfect copies, which he supposed was the point, given the way it confused opponents. They'd even accidentally sync movements.

This from a Hero clad in pure black.

At least they have the coloured pauldrons, he reasoned.

Green was the one to notice him step out of the shadows. "Do you sleep in those?"

Blacklight glanced down at his suit. It was crisp and new, a necessary replacement after spending half the week pulling civilians from rubble. "The threads?"

"The bush."

Blacklight rolled his eyes. "Please. I'm a department store guy."

"Huh?" said Green.

"Don't want to forget my crowbar, in case someone needs their head pried from their a–"

"Thanks for coming, Blacklight," interrupted Red. "Traffic?"

Blacklight's mask eye arched. "Funny. I've got fumes in the way of intel, though. What's the word?"

"Isaiah Livingston," explained Red as they made their way to the exit, toward the group's van.

Blacklight squinted pensively. "Livingston... ah. Freelance Weaver?"

Red nodded. "One of management's crumb trails led to his doorstep."

"Terrible trail," snarked Blacklight, glancing up at the Atlanta skyline.

"Either way, Isaiah's done well for himself. In an intriguing turn of events, he purchased an eight thousand-square-foot mansion seven months ago. This, of course, after buying a Range Rover, two Mercedes and a private helicopter in cash."

Blacklight cocked his head. "Shady, but these are big fish. Property and wheels seem small for a house call."

"Agreed. Management thought the same and dismissed it until CCTV IDed Gel and Sonnet five blocks away. Then four, two weeks later. Six more times, all within three months. Never on his doorstep, but near enough to warrant investigation."

"Gotcha." Blacklight nodded, remembering his brief scuffle with the two Rogues. It felt like years ago. He tapped his chin as the Heroes filed into the van. "So, what? He knit Tacti some boots?"

"Potentially. But when painting a case picture, assumption is delusion. The facts are that he received massive injections of capital right when terrorist-sympathizing Rogues suddenly started supporting the Hawks. Given his glaring lack of education or formal business ventures outside a small metal-working shop he founded two months ago, we suspect foul play."

Blacklight nodded. "Understood. But why bring me?"

This time, Red hesitated. "That, I'm not sure. I mean, this is a Weaver. They're slippery and can occasionally be irritating, but sending all four of us, let alone you, feels a bit extreme."

Green scowled. "Hell you mean, let alone you?"

"It's a fancy way of him saying I'm better than you," Blacklight supplied helpfully.

Green snorted but caught Red's expression and stifled his reply.

"If they're paying him that much," said Yellow, "he's important. Even for something like the Family, money will be tricky. With everything digitized, every transaction they make is at risk of discovery. They need to be clever, so they wouldn't throw so much in a direction unless it leads straight to the promised land."

Blacklight nodded. "Alright. Onward, then."

The ride took ten minutes. Red drove slowly and smartly so as not to draw attention. He killed the engine in a playground parking lot in one of the arboreous, well-to-do parts of the city.

He peered through the windshield and pointed down the street. "The new one. Boxy, gray and black, lots of glass."

Blacklight located the house. "Copy. Orders?"

"You don't report to me," chuckled Red.

Blacklight studied the front yard. "You don't believe that."

"Use your shadow trick. He might try and book it. Make sure he doesn't."

Blacklight offered a lazy salute before diving into the void. "Aye, aye."

The Chaos Committee jumped out after him, checking their surroundings carefully before sprinting for the property.

The fence was fifteen feet high and buzzing with electrical insulation. The Committee vaulted it with comical ease. Blacklight did a quick lap to familiarize himself with egress points. There were doors in the back, sides, roof and even underground.

This house was built with escape in mind.

Comms got finicky in spectre, so he circled back to the Committee once he was satisfied with his recon.

Red had them pressed against a wall. They all paused for signs of detection. When none came, he whispered, "Blacklight, you there?"

Blacklight floated up to the 'surface' of the void. His body would still be invisible, but his glowing red eyes wouldn't.

"Jesus," grimaced Green. "That's fucked."

Sound couldn't leave the void, so Blacklight didn't bother retorting.

"See who's home, and be prudent. You never know."

Red's concerns were for nothing. Just a fat, balding man slouched on an expensive, rounded couch. An even bigger television built over a fireplace provided him with entertainment as he helped himself to beer and a pizza pocket.

Blacklight snorted. Wealth, it appeared, couldn't cure everything.

He swam through the rest of the house. Blacklight noticed, with a touch of amusement, that there were unopened condom packs in most of the bedrooms.

Even with all the money in the world, Livingston hadn't deduced the puzzle of women.

"Just him," Blacklight told his colleagues upon reforming outside. "There's a security room, but nothing that crazy." He frowned. "I don't get it. They're paying him in millions. There isn't even a doorman."

"Trap?" suggested Green.

Red grumbled pensively. "Maybe. We still need to learn what he knows, though."

Blacklight nodded. "Lead the way."

They skulked over to the front door, where Green poised to Crush it. He paused, though, and turned to Blacklight. "Aren't you supposed to be off duty?"

Blacklight rolled his eyes. "Blow the door."

"Suit yourself." Green clenched his fist, and the door shrivelled to a plum.

"We grilled Floodgates. He hasn't cracked, so Skies wanted leverage. I switched out with Nova and was on the most stressful break of my life before getting the call."

They walked into the living room silently. Isaiah didn't even notice until Red stepped directly into his line of sight and turned his movie off.

"What the fuck?" barked Isaiah, jumping to his feet. His robe stretched to contain his gut as he noticed the rest of the Committee. He paled further at the sight of Blacklight.

"What is this?"

"An intervention," Blacklight said, motioning to the nearest guest room. "You don't really think you're going to be using any of those, do you?"

Isaiah blinked, then went red. "How dare–"

"Mr. Livingston," intoned Red, "sit."

"No. I will not–"

A single finger from Red was sufficient to Push Livingston onto his couch and pin him. His yelps of protest dwindled as Red slowly increased the pressure, Pushing hard enough to crack the couch frame. Livingston was screaming by the time he let up.

"Wanna try again?" asked Green, pinching his fingers together. Livingston's beer can flattened into a coin.

Livingston swallowed. "Whatever you think I did..."

Red's mask eye arched. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"I don't fucking know!" shrieked Livingston. "You have no right to invade my home! There are laws for things like this!"

"What about mass murder, hmm? Are you familiar with those laws?"

"W-w-what?" stammered Livingston.

"For first-degree, death is the immediate penalty. However, since you didn't exactly land the blow, a life sentence is much more likely."

Livingston licked his lips. "I didn't kill anyone, nor did I–"

"Do you usually ski, Isaiah?"

"I... what does this–"

"Answer the question."

"Sometimes."

Red nodded. "Sometimes, he says. Hmm. Well, previously, the answer would actually have been 'no'. At least before February of this year. What spurred this? Triple, sometimes quadruple-digit ticket prices. A five-star hotel. Luxury amenities. How was that scented hot tub, anyway?"

"Is this what everything is about? Jealousy?" Livingston laughed. "And here I was worrying. You want my money? Name a price."

"That's just the thing," remarked Red. "You don't have any. At least, you never did. Until this year. Wanna know what I think?"

"No," swallowed Livingston. "I want you to leave."

Red ignored him and continued. "I think you made powerful friends. I think they told you inspiring things. Things like how they needed you. Things like how important you are to their cause and how they'd do anything to keep you. I mean, it's not like they'd pay this kind of money to just anyone?"

"You're wasting your time," growled Livingston. "Just because I chose not to work with SWORD doesn't–"

KRRAK!

Livingston almost jumped out of his slippers when the unoccupied end of his couch popped like a balloon.

Yellow held up an apologetic hand. "My bad. Allergies. The smell of bullshit makes me... twitchy."

"It's a serious condition," Red warned gravely. "Who knows what could go next?"

Livingston trembled. "You're all fucking crazy! You know that? You're absolutely– AAHH!"

This time, Blue Pulled his TV off the wall and crashed it through the glass table.

"Who writes your checks?" growled Red.

"Me! I work for myself! Just... just be... I... fuck..."

He trailed off as Red once again dialled up the pressure against his chest. The couch couldn't endure and collapsed. Livingston flopped to his carpet floor and heaved desperately for air. Red didn't let up, Pushing until blood was trickling from the corners of the Weaver's mouth.

"There are many organs I could target. And as an Alpha, even a weak one, you'll make it. That's not even discounting your limbs, none of which you require to live. It only took a finger to crush your couch like a walnut." Red crouched. "Honestly? I don't think you're all that far behind."

"P...pl... please..." choked Livingston, eyes bloodshot. "Ca...can't...plea..."

Red let him writhe for five more seconds before releasing him. Livingston gasped like a beached fish. Blacklight guessed he must've inhaled enough air to ventilate an apartment building. Blood dripped from his head as he struggled to crawl to a sitting position.

Red crouched down to his level. "Those were strikes one and two. At three, we'll see if you're reptile enough to regrow a leg."

"They'll kill me," wheezed Livingston.

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"And we won't," Red replied. "But you'll pray every remaining day of your short life that we did. Cough."

"FUCK!" Livingston ground his teeth hard enough to produce more red. "At first, it was just armour. They brought me the Cruisium. They even gave me a lab. For months, that's all I did. Over and over and over."

Red glanced up at Blacklight before refocusing on the Weaver. "What changed?"

"They needed me to integrate a... platform? I don't know. They had geeks number crunching. I didn't see all the blueprints, just the shit relevant to my part. Spent hours putting it together."

"What was it for?" demanded Blacklight.

"Thermal redistribution and alignment," replied Livingston. "I'd done something similar for a sleeve set earlier. The overall design was the same, so I guess it was for the same guy, just... bigger."

"Do you still have the plans?" asked Red.

Livingston smirked, wiping blood from his nose. "Too late. The computer they gave me has a built-in, biweekly auto-wipe."

"The physical prototypes?" prodded Red. "They burn those too?"

Livingston hesitated. "I..."

"Heh. Where's the lab?"

"Constantly moving," Livingston spat. The blood was pouring now. "They never keep it–"

"It's probably his shop," pointed out Green. "He goes there every day."

Red's mask eye arched. "Oh?"

Livingston was shaking. The blood hadn't stopped, and now it was leaking from his eyes. The realization hit, and Livingston fell to his rear. "No..."

"He's spiralling," realized Red. "Shit!" He tapped the side of his mask. "Pommel, get me a med–"

"It was more than a wipe," murmured Livingston. "Of course they wouldn't just stop at a–"

BOOM!

Explosive impact caved the roof above them, raining glass and brick everywhere. Blacklight reacted the quickest with a shield, protecting himself but leaving his allies open to the sizzling wave of electrical energy. The Chaos Committee, however, were bowled off their feet and sent spinning into appliances.

Blacklight's night vision did not extend to piercing the massive dust cloud raised by the roof's destruction. He kept it in sight while throwing quick glances to check on his allies, and was debating on whether to investigate when a glowing purple light caught his attention.

The light stretched to form a human silhouette, then stepped forward and sharpened into a familiar woman.

Blacklight groaned. You've gotta be kidding me.

"Izzy," scolded Crackle disappointedly, "how could you do this? We had such high hopes. We gave you so much. All it took was a few threats?"

"They forced–" he managed to choke out before Crackle blew his chest open.

Blacklight narrowed his eyes. "Zara. You're looking well."

"You think?" snorted Crackle, motioning to her new costume, which Livingston, ironically, likely Weaved himself. "I mean, just look at my legs in this thing. Jason is going to go feral ."

"How did you know we were here?" he demanded.

Crackle flashed him a wink. "Next time, love. Make sure to remind Jason what he's missing."

"No."

Crackle scowled and punched out a blast. Blacklight sidestepped. He replied with a lance that arrowed through empty space, as Crackle's body had dissolved into electricity and reformed five feet away.

"Fuck," grumbled Blacklight, recalling her upgrade.

Crackle laughed as she floated off the ground. Blacklight noticed, with some revulsion, that her new costume bore accents of white in similar running to Nova, though still dominated by the unsightly, bright mauve.

"Taste of your own medicine, eh?" mocked Crackle.

She turned to ascend, only to be ripped through the back wall by Red and Blue's conjoined Push and Pull.

"Forget her!" Red bellowed to Blacklight. "She's here for cleanup!"

Crackle recovered and met his eyes. She wasn't here for them. She wanted to erase evidence.

"GO!" screamed Red as Green rooted Crackle in place for Blue to clobber with debris. "Get to the shop!"

Crackle exploded with energy, flattening what was left of the house. The light of the blast erased shadows and temporarily destabilized Blacklight in spectre. She was airborne a moment later.

Blacklight cursed and kicked into high gear himself. He could not allow Livingston's shop to perish. Especially not by Crackle. He'd never forgive himself, and worst of all, Nova would hear all about it later.

Move it, Blacklight.

He punched out of spectre twenty seconds later, angled for Crackle. She was hanging fifty feet over Livingston's shop, building a charge before Blacklight connected his flanking ambush.

He managed two hooking punches to her head before she did her semi-teleporting trick to escape. Directly above him, in fact, forcing Blacklight into an uncomfortable series of twists to evade the ensuing bolts.

He spectred into the pavement and reemerged behind her. Crackle anticipated the ruse and teleported across the block, only to have shadow ropes bind her legs in place. She squawked before Blacklight drove a lightning-shaped shadow blast into her chest.

A wall fell as Crackle plowed through a line of fridges. Cartons popped, eggs cracked, and glass shattered. She was soaked with milk and ice by the time she grated to a halt.

Crackle reactively attacked the dark, speeding silhouette beside her before reforming across the store. Her electrical threads tore Blacklight's decoy apart and left her oblivious to his real body, which came out of the ceiling.

"OOF!" exclaimed Crackle as his shin clubbed the side of her head. She cut through dozens of aisles and shot out the back, forcing a laundromat to cushion her impact with a stack of suits. After shattering its front window, of course.

Crackle recovered, smoking with fury. "Fuck off!"

She powered through the low roof, only to catch a push kick from Blacklight's omnipresent boot to the crotch. Crackle had to fight to keep from flying away and, therefore, never saw Blacklight's battering ram coming.

She split two cooling pipes on her way to crumpling an HVAC unit secured to the ledge. Crackle caught herself in a kneeling position just in time to spot two Blacklights cruising to clock her. With a furious yell, she teleported behind them, then loosed a forking blast to cut the constructs in half.

Blacklight chuckled as his real hand seized the back of her head and slammed it through the laundromat's roof, blowing it apart and dunking Crackle back inside. She spluttered a curtain from her mouth, then contorted unnaturally around Blacklight's fist.

The remaining windows shattered as Blacklight's knuckles slammed into her spine, driving the Rogue into a crater. The back wall fell dramatically as Blacklight stomped the back of her head, then spectred clear of her electrical surge.

"You know what confuses me?" he asked.

Crackle spun and belted energy in the direction of his voice. As he wasn't there, she instead annihilated a pharmacy.

Blacklight materialized from a shadow in the wall, elbowed her airborne and crunched a fisted backhand to her cheek. Crackle thrashed her way into a streetlight, snapping it apart.

"It's the delusion," Blacklight told her. "I mean, you're clearly stronger than before, but not very good at making it mean anything."

Crackle screamed and produced a lightning bolt strong enough to short the crossing signal out. Blacklight met it with a convex shield, diverting it harmlessly into the brick around him. He then conjured a whip to lash Crackle off her feet and spinning into a fence.

Blacklight was on her before she could recover, landing a flying knee that took her through the mesh and into an unmarked box truck. "You love to blab all this nonsense about Prime this, Prime that, yet you hit with all the murderous intent of a dank napkin."

He gloved his fist and pounded a blow that fountained blood from her nose. "All bark. Look at your teeth. You were never meant to bite."

Malevolent purple light grew in Crakcle's eyes. "Bite this, freak."

Blacklight, for the first time that night, was slow to the take. Crackle's pulse ripped him off her body and shooting into the night. He flailed through three blocks worth of infrastructure before crashing into a small, dysfunctional fountain miles away.

Shit, he coughed, pulling himself into the shadow realm.

Crackle had only just managed to launch herself airborne when the ether spit him out and back in the fight. He planted a two-foot thrust kick in her side, but Crackle was learning and used the momentum to tag Blacklight's shoulder.

Burning and slight numbness flared in the joint as he skipped across asphalt. A spike in static energy forced Blacklight to boost himself over a nasty purple arc Crackle pounded into the street.

He countered precisely enough to force a panic teleport. She reappeared fifty feet above him, which came with pros and cons. Distance helped, as it gave him time to recover and restrategize, but allowing Crackle altitude was dangerous. He could still feel the stinging in his arm from when he'd deflected her attack.

Then, to his genuine surprise, Crackle turned away and faced Livingston's shop. Energy built around her as she reared back to blow it to pieces.

Blacklight was so astounded he barely managed to form a spear. Even as he hurled it skyward, he knew it was pointless. She was too far, he was too slow, and to his great dismay, too powerful.

Crackle dropped the building in a storm of lightning. Immediately, they both realized she'd missed, as instead of rending metal and shattering glass, there were violent hisses. Like ice dropped in a boiling pot.

Then the temperature plummeted and Blacklight realized it actually was ice.

Cryo King crouched atop the massive, smoking glacier he'd erected around the shop. Cold, piercing blue eyes and short white hair cut through the huge cloud of steam to regard Crackle with nothing but pragmatic focus.

She sneered and pulled back to reattack, but faltered as hundreds of tons of metallic debris rose around them. Cryo, disciplined as ever, had no reaction, still focused on Crackle. She, on the other hand, only had eyes for the sharply dressed newcomer floating towards her.

"By all means, Mrs. Johnson. Tir. We will see what happens," chortled Cher Fer, flicking his hand to shrink the huge ring of metal.

"You'll miss," added Green helpfully as the Chaos Committee landed around them, all with arms out to their sides, ready to bombard her the instant she twitched.

Blacklight materialized on an office building near Crackle. "Despite what your powers suggest, we all know you're not the brightest bulb in the bin, Zara. Your obsession over you-know-who is a perfect example. Do us all a favour, though? Electrify your seven little brain cells and count ." He gestured to his gathered allies. "You could fight. I'm sure your superiors expect you to. But you'll lose. And you're much less helpful to them in a box."

"And what, you'll just let me leave?" she scoffed, scanning for civilians to use as body shields. Interestingly, there were none.

"Yep." Blacklight ignored Fer's frown and continued. "We can't contain your teleport ability without endangering blanks. And you're not our current objective. You get a hall pass. It's the last one. Go back to dreaming about a man who'll never love you." He pointed up. "But not here."

Crackle burned him with a scathing glower. She spent a few seconds mulling over his offer before dissolving into a lightning bolt that disappeared in the clouds.

"Finally," grumbled Blacklight, glancing over at the shop, which was still mostly in one piece. "No one grinds my gears like her."

"High praise." Fer released his hold on the floating debris as he glided over. "Coming from you."

"Not as high as she deserves, though," Blacklight pointed out. "Crackle, of all people, stayed on target. She ignored me to take out the shop. She's never been able to do that before."

Fer frowned. "T'as raison . Hmm. This is worrying, Monsieur Light."

Blacklight blinked. "Mon... what? Nevermind. Look, we..."

He trailed off when the Committee gave the shop a quick scan before heading back to their van. The pieces started clicking together right as his mask chimed with a call from the Pommel.

"Status report, Blacklight," greeted Director Skies.

Blacklight ground his jaw. "You played me."

"No, I assigned you."

"You made me bait."

"You had to be," Skies said evenly. "They were watching the house. We knew he had something in his building but couldn't risk it being destroyed until we were sure it mattered."

"So what? You sent us on a useless house call just to distract Crackle?"

"Livingston's house is in a relatively secluded area. Collateral would've been contained. By the time they realized he was compromised and sent someone to deal with it, Cryo and Fer would have the shop cleared out."

"Then why the ruse? Why have them protect it?"

"A few reasons. I'll explain later. I need you back at the Sheath. Something's come up."

"What?"

"You have two hours. And don't engage Crackle."

Blacklight blinked. "Don't engage... Boss, she's gone. What do–"

KABOOOM!

Nobody reacted in time to stop the fork of lightning that fell from heaven and struck the shop. The power went right through and levelled the building in a blink, blowing Cryo from his construct and flailing to the pavement. Blacklight spun to see Crackle, a hundred feet above him, wave suggestively before turning and soaring away.

"FUCK!" he yelled, then remembered his call. "Wait, you knew..."

"Now they think the evidence is gone."

Blacklight stared. "I don't follow."

"We needed it to look good," explained Skies. "While you and the Committee triggered the psychic alarm they left in Livingston's head, Cher and Cryo went for the shop, just... smarter. Without alerting anyone. We also managed to relocate nearby blanks to prevent her from using them as meat shields. Now, thanks to Crackle's persistence, the Family can rest easy knowing Livingston and all his evidence is gone."

Blacklight grinned. "Except it isn't."

"We're finally ahead," said Skies, sounding incredibly tired. "The prototypes are on their way to a safehouse for dissection. As I said earlier, I need you here."

Blacklight shook his head as he started to smirk. "You are a crafty, slimy son of a bitch."

"You have no idea," sighed Skies. "See you... what's so funny?"

Blacklight, hunched over the ledge of the building, held his stomach as he shrieked with laughter. Cher observed him with concern, as did Cryo, who could hear him all the way from the street.

"A lot," he wheezed. "But... Living ston was murdered in his living room. HA HA HA HA!"

At this point, he was close to falling off the edge, causing Cher to roll his eyes, and Skies to hang up.