Passthrough had run away when the fight got serious, leaving the guard and I standing empty-handed at an abandoned checkpoint with no further orders. The city was covered with the smell of smoke from all the bombs that had gone off, and now a rolling thundercloud was coming in fast. With no obvious next move and one of the biggest domestic attacks in our nation's history ongoing, I was left with just one question to ask.

"Well... what now?"

The guard walked over to where our van was parked and tried the radio, finding only static. He made me wait a good long while then before he finally decided to speak his thoughts. "They're jamming our communication. That's step one in any takeover... They'll probably follow-up using Kaiser's playbook if they want to succeed in a first-world territory. That means taking mass amounts of hostages." He seemed to shudder at the thought.

"They can't get away with that, right?"

"If they're fast, they can. They'll plan to keep them long-term as slaves and cannon fodder. They might implant explosives in them like we saw in Panama recently, then they'll demand shipments of supplies as they rape the women and put the men to work building whatever fortifications they have in mind. Those who have loved ones will be coerced into fighting as soldiers. New Marion will end up being just one more battlefield in a world of battlefields."

"That's... horrific," I said, and truly meant it. That anyone would go and fight to make such a hell out of this peaceful city, merely so that they could lord over the ashes, was beyond my ability to comprehend.

So pointless.

I remembered that the guard had said his wife took the kids and left the city, meaning there was no one he was itching to go and save personally. He seemed weary of everything that was going on, but his own death didn’t make the list of his concerns. Instead, I picked up just the vague annoyance that came with being saddled with a ward.

He slid down to sit at the foot of the van's door, and then he explained his perspective, "The way I see it, my standing orders are to protect you. There are a number of safe houses in the city we could use. Although, they're not likely to be safe for much longer."

"Yeah," I agreed, and took a seat beside him. "But we can't just do nothing."

"What's the alternative," he asked, surprise in his tone. "We go wading into the fight?"

"Yes. Exactly that." I was confident that this was the right thing to do here. I'd done it once, and I'd do it again. “We can make a difference, maybe slow them down enough that the big leaguers don’t have to worry about so many hostages.”

"Well... I commend your bravery. Not many people would survive what you did and then turn around to do it again."

I nodded, showing my resolve. "It's my goddamn city. Nobody else can have it."

The guard just chuckled. "If that's how you feel about it, then I can relate. That's why I got into the service in the first place. 'My country, my obligation' was what I said back in those days. A lack of powers didn't even stop me. But Headcase, I have no authority to tell you that you can go in and act like a hero. If you weren't in my custody, you wouldn't get into any trouble for vigilantism during this shitshow, that's for sure, but as it stands, I would have to release you for that happen, and I can't rightfully do that. My friend just died to these bastards you know, so I'd love to get my hands dirty more than anything, and to tell you the truth I hate that I’m stuck with you. I'd really make these guys fucking bleed if I could. But orders are orders, and as far as the law is concerned, you're a civilian and I have to keep you as far away from the conflict as possible."

This was difficult. It's not like I was going to try and escape from my guard, even though I had considered it before. For one thing it'd be futile with the injuries to my feet. More importantly, however, I wasn't so full of myself that I felt justified in playing hero if the law said 'no'. Last time I had entered the fray with the explicit knowledge that my power was the only thing that could turn the tide. But in this case, there were countless heroes and villains in play. Sure, I could be of use, but not particularly more than anyone else.

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Besides, this was no free-for-all. The objectives in this conflict would be far more complex and delicate than simply killing a madman.

Recently, I'd done some things I was proud of and some things I was not so proud of. It was clear by now that I was riding a wave of emotions, and I couldn't let them get the better of me. After three years of total dissociation from reality, my legs itched to carry me into action and truly feel alive.

Yet, if I didn't play it smart right now, I was likely to be more of a hindrance than a help. Maybe there was a way that I could have my cake and eat it too, though?

An idea had sprung to my mind. One did not need to be a psychic to change another's mind, I remembered. They just needed a good enough sales pitch.

"What if..." I said, "the safe houses were compromised?"

The guard tilted his head at me and seemed to mull over the question. "Then I would try to get you back to the Heroes' Operational Building, I guess. Which is also where I would need to go to re-establish contact with control and command so I can get back into the fight."

Yes, I thought. If we get there, I can stay involved without doing anything too stupid or rash. I can be a hero without going rogue.

I decided to shoot my shot. No playing coy about it. "Then let's do that. Let's go to Hero Command."

Again, the guard seemed surprised at my forwardness. "And what, just ignore the safe houses entirely?"

"It's up to your judgment, isn't it?" I wished that I could use my power to speak, since having to stop and measure my words so frequently made them feel less persuasive, but I was confident that I had the advantage. All of this was already what the guard had wanted, and people jumped at the opportunity to be given permission to follow their desires. They rarely fought hard against the logic of that permission.

He took it into consideration. "These are unprecedented circumstances," he said. "Our departure from the hospital was known by the villains, even though it was supposed to be a covert op. There's no telling what else may have been compromised."

I smiled. "Safe houses aren't easily defended, are they? Their strength comes from their secrecy."

He knew exactly what I was doing at this point, but he didn't seem to care. He had bought what I was selling to him. We were both in on the conspiracy to bend the rules now. "Yes, that’s true. If their location is no longer secure, then the best option... for keeping you safe, of course... is the place that is most heavily fortified. And that's the Operations Center."

"Where you can also receive new orders."

“Yes."

I clapped my hands out front. "Then we have a plan, don’t we? A good plan."

"Seems like, new kid." The guard stood up and pulled off his helmet, revealing a head covered in matted, sweaty black hair. He was a plain looking fellow, built like a tank but otherwise nondescript. All except for the tattoo he had at the corner of his eye; a strange square, with a circle at each corner. "Since we're going to be moving through hostile territory, I want you to be able to track my movements in case we become separated. I can trust you not to mindfuck me, right?"

I opted not to use my power to speak, even though it would have been more convenient. He needed to see that I would stay out of his head. "On my word, I won't mindfuck you."

He had seen my records, which meant he knew that I had gone years without doing anything too nefarious using my power. Who could have guessed that holding back all those years would pay off?

"Good. I'll let you know my name is Chris, then. Alright," the guard continued. "Come watch me hotwire a car. Maybe you'll learn something."

“Chris,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Call me Sixes when we’re working.” He withdrew a smaller black mask that clipped onto his face. It hid his identity, but it was not quite so suffocating as the anti-psychic dome.

We found ourselves an old truck out of the lot, one which he said would be easier than a new model to work on, and then he got to work. I tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but in the back of my mind I was tuning into my psychic sight, trying to get a lay of the land and anticipate any problems ahead.

I still had a lot of juice left in me, which was good, because this was going to be a long day. I had to conserve energy if I wanted to last through it. Not wanting to throw around too many large sonar blasts then, I could only make out a mile or so around me with focus. Passthrough was long gone, which was a weight off my shoulder, although this didn't mean he wouldn't try again with backup. The sooner we got out of here, therefore, the better.

By the time I was done searching, the truck revved to life, and we were ready to go. Chris seemed pleased with his work, and proudly shifted into gear so that we could pull back out of here and head towards the highway.

The Heroes' Operations building was smack dab in the middle of New Marion. It was a solid thirty-minute drive from where we were, but that was the least of our problems. We were heading right into the center of this villainous takeover, and we'd be lucky not to get roped into combat before we got anywhere close to our final destination. Hopefully, we could run into some heroes on our way there and get an update on the situation, but that was unlikely. The enemy far outnumbered us, after all.

"Buckle up," Sixes told me. "This may get bumpy."