Sophia was lounging around the old Witterly estate when John appeared next to her, as silent as a mouse. He was very good, even into his sixties, "Sophia," he said, his voice quiet.

"John," Sophia said, smiling at her mentor without trying to make herself look like she had seen him.

"I have some information I want you to take a look at," he said. She followed him immediately down into the subterranean base of his. It was a large bunker, built by his parents during the old Cold War, with extensive fortifications.

John's tastes in decorations were mostly icons of various saints, including a few people who had been beatified by the Episcopal Church in their resistance to the Seraphites. There was no record of his own triumphs here, though sometimes she would pass a piece or two in honor of a fallen comrade. As they reached the central computer hub, one of Tristan's old Hellhound uniforms hung in plain view.

The massive computer screen honestly seemed more than was usable to Sophia, but she said nothing as he pulled up a map on it. "I thought I had caught the pattern of these robberies," he said, pointing with a mouse cursor to a string of numbers. "But then I couldn't see it any more."

The numbers were marked off and Sophia looked them over. It took her a few minutes to remember where she recognized this string from, "Oh, this is that big string of heists Mom did," she said after a moment. "Six years after the Seraphite wars? I wasn't little, little. I don't think you ever pinned her for all of them."

John nodded his head in assent to that, "That explains it," he said after a moment. "But your mother is still in jail." Her mother's picture and a status marker appeared on the screen.

Sophia did not say 'thanks be to God' though she thought it in the privacy of her own heart. Her mother did not need to be out roaming the street, that served no useful purpose. "So who is it?"

"It's hard to say," John said, looking at the wall. "It could be a rival, trying to one up her, that's not totally out of character for theme criminals. It could be an admirer, someone who wants to follow in your mother's footsteps."

"Mom was past her glory days by the time I was born," Sophia said, which was harsh to say but obviously true. Hooking up with Cypher had itself been an act of desperation and they hadn't even been able to make that work. "Wouldn't an admirer want to emulate her best crimes and not, like, a series of underwhelming thefts like this?"

"Can you think of any other places in this string of robberies?" John asked.

Sophia counted them up slowly, putting herself back in her own seven year old shoes. She had been helping the jobs, most of the time, but only in a provide cover for a security check kind of way. She tried to think back to any of her little family outtings that weren't on display. "Do you have the museum?" she asked after about ten minutes. "That was the last one we did."

John shook his head, "That was Lynx?"

"I'll admit Richard the Lion Heart was a bit of a stretch in theme terms," Sophia said.

"It often is," John said. "Get to work, Sphinx," he said with a smile on his face before turning to his computer for a second.

Sophia made sure to vanish before he turned back around and notified her team.

***

"I haaaate stake outs," Gate complained. The adrenaline bonding of combat made Sophia quite fond of Gate, but she could admit in the privacy of her own mind that they would probably not be friends if they were not both part of the order.

"I'm the one whose going to be sitting in that little nook," Sophia said, trying to assuage her team's concerns.

"It's just the museum has insurance and security guards," Gate pointed out. "If we were protecting somebody, okay, sure, but we're just sitting here to protect what – Some cat statue? So what if it goes missing?"

"You're getting paid hundreds of dollars an hour to sit on your phone, why complain?" Boy Titan said.

"See it's a huge expenditure of Order resources Sphinx, come on," Gate complained. "Why do we have to work some B&E?"

Sophia looked to Nereid, who gave her a sympathetic look but said nothing. Nereid knew that this was related to her mother and thus important to Sophia but there wasn't any way to explain that without revealing Sophia's own identity. Her vows of humility prevented her from doing that unless it was urgent to the needs of others, so they were straight out of luck.

"If Sphinx wants us sitting on our butts, it must be important to somebody," Wands opined.

"It's important to the owners, at least," Boy Titan offered.

Sophia quietly appreciated the backup, but this wasn't up for the vote as their many hunches had been. She'd gotten this from Hellhound, so they had to work on it. They headed to the museum that was being targeted in east Jersey and went with it.

Sphinx was watching the big art installation on the history of big cats for the third night straight, sitting up in her perch, concealed from everyone. It hadn't exactly been comfortable from the start and after three nights it was feeling incredibly cramped. She had cased the joint herself and evaluated how she would get in. Still, Sophia didn't know if the copy-cat Lynx (her mother would appreciate the pun) was coming at all.

That's when she saw a shadow flitting in the dark. Sophia smiled under her helmet and messaged her team. They'd be here soon enough so she climbed down from her perch using her climbing claws and moved toward the shadow.

It didn't spot her – She managed to move closer and closer. Her Sphinx mask was showing her the situation through its infrared goggle function. There was a thin, youngish boy in an all black suit using a laser pen to bypass the pressure sensitive glass.

"Give up kid," Sophia said, annoyed. Sophia pushed a button to set off the closing down of the museum. She had thought it had been some sort of grudge match with her mother but this was just a kid. That meant they really were a theme criminal – Nobody else was fool enough to do this sort of thing.

The kid didn't bother to stop and have an argument with her, much to her dismay. He dashed his hand inside the box and grabbed out the small, obsidian statue from it. Unbeknownst to him, it was a fake.

Once he had the statue in hand, he burst away from the box with a running sprint and Sophia took off after him. He was wearing plain black clothing, not adaptive fiber, but he was still moving as fast as Sophia was if not faster. She had felt an immense surge of frustration – Why did people with such immense talent decide to waste their lives as theme criminals?

She hurled out some of her containment bombs, spreading the foaming paste across the museum floor. He dodged and laughed, something halfway to the thrill laughter she remembered from her mother and father's lives of crime.

Theme Criminals were all alike in their own way. She moved along after the kid who for his part did not appear interested in violent crime. "You'll never take me alive, copper!" he said, darting toward a window on the outside of the museum.

Wasn't that a movie quote? There were so many movies these days with Altia, she couldn't keep up like she wanted to but she felt sure it was a movie quote. "Giving up is much safer!" Sophia shouted after him.

He laughed again, grabbing a mechanical hammer and putting it against the giant glass wall on the outside of the museum, "Statistically speaking, of course, it's still the safest way to travel" he replied as the hammer started breaking up the safety glass. That was a movie quote too and Sophia did her best not to mutter angrily about it.

Several moments later, the whole glass wall started coming down and the kid burst through it. Sophia dodged out of the way before she could catch up with him and the thunderous drop of glass over the physical space took up too much noise for her to think.

It was an extremely loud moment before the silence hit her again, almost as wave like as the sound before it. She stood up and looked out the window, where the theme criminal seemed to have disappeared. She cursed again. She disappeared often enough on her enemies but it was much more embarrassing when it happened to her. "Team, this is Sphinx, he's gone."

By the time they arrived, Sophia had carefully picked all the glass debris from her suit's feet. Nereid slid over to her and threw an arm around her, "Better luck next time, Sphinx," she said, giving her a hug.

"Did you get a good look at him?" Boy Titan asked.

Sophia wobbled her head, "Sort of. He's a theme criminal, I think," she replied. "He had those red-and-blue old-school three-dee glasses."

"So we're looking for a man in his late thirties, clearly past his prime," Wands said.

Sophia shook her head, "He's younger than us."

That made the group fall silent. They'd had an experience arresting the neo-vigilante who was their own age and, even if she had killed six people, it had been sort of haunting. They were about to have to do it again, which was nobody's idea of a good time.

"You got a strong sense of what age he might have been?"

"Younger than our apparent ages, sorry," Sophia replied. "Maaaybe sixteen? I'd honestly be surprised if he was older than that."

Gate shook her head in disappointment at that statement and handed Sophia a bottle of water. "Drink up, Sphinx, I know you wanted to get him tonight but you'll get him. You're a Knight of St. Galahad."

Sophia nodded in thanks as she took the water. She had wanted to get him tonight but it hadn't worked out like she had planned. She thought about how unfair it was that a kid that young had gotten wrapped up in theme criminality. Some of that was probably projection. Even so her parents had always seemed nearly as tormented by their themes as she was.

"I guess we'll have to figure out some other plan to solve these situations," Sophia said, wiping the sweat from her face as she took off her helmet and put it down on the stone ledge. She started drinking her water and it almost immediately vanish into her stomach. "Let's had back to the Ziggurat."

John was waiting for her when she arrived. "Hellhound," she said, bowing half her body to her mentor when she saw him.

"Sphinx," he said in a deep baritone.

Sphinx looked over her shoulder at her team and smiled, not that they could see it behind her mask. "Team, dismissed," she said.

There were some half-cocked smiles at the change in tone but they all complied. Nobody acted exactly the same around their mentor as they did around their peers. Once they had drained off, John turned and swept along. The reds and blacks of his costume were intimidating to most of the world, but to Sphinx they were a symbol of hope.

"He got away," John said.

"Yes sir," Sphinx said, feeling her shame roiling in her stomach. She knew John wouldn't hold it against her but years beneath her parents tutelage had taught her that messing up was tantamount to abomination.

"What is your self-assessment?" John asked.

"I believe that I had an adequate basic plan for a trap," Sophia said. "A cordon would've resulted in no robbery occurring at all. He was extremely quick, indicating intense or compulsive training. My projectile targeting needs work. I both under and overestimated his speed, combined with his zigzagging motion. It was an impressive pattern, sir, but I also practice everyday and could have done better."

"I think that your assessment of the basic facts is correct," John said. "But you are being too harsh with yourself. Tell me, how are you feeling Sphinx?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Sophia was surprised. She hadn't expected that kind of question from John. It wasn't that the original Hellhound didn't have feelings, it was that he viewed them as problematic for his attempts to cultivate impartial love for all humanity. "I'm… Honestly, I feel a little emotionally confused."

John gestured them into a conference room, "And why is that?" he asked as they slipped through the crystalline structure's opening portal.

"It reminds me of my mother, I guess," she said. "And I felt confident I could handle it but it weighs on me."

"Lynx is a complicated woman," John said by way of agreement.

Few people were as complicated as Sphinx's mother. She had been difficult to live with, even at the best of Sophia. "The guy turned out to be young. Younger than me. I don't know, I know objectively that my mom started stealing things for profit when she was about fourteen, but its stranger when you see it in person."

John took off his helmet and showed the gray hairs and wrinkled face of an aging prize fighter. "That's a reasonable feeling. You say stranger, do you feel angry? Sympathy? What's the feeling that's new?"

"Pity, I guess," Sophia said after a moment. "I was so mad at my mom for dragging me into her life for such a long time. It was different to see it when it had barely begun."

"Feeling pity, or compassion, is important to every person's calling. I hope you feel it more for both the people you help and the ones you fight," John said, his eyes compassionate. Sophia looked away in shame. She still couldn't bear it when people looked at her like that. Her father and mother had been proud people who had never done so, at least as far as she could remember. They had condemned compassion as condescension and given it up entirely as a personal practice.

"I let it distract me from my mission," she said, balling up her fists in an act of will. "I won't do that again."

John put a hand on his shoulder, "Sphinx, it is not good to force away your compassion," he said, his voice soft and even handed as he spoke. "We've talked about this."

Sophia knew that was true. She heard sermons to that effect on nearly every Sunday morning, she spent her days with people who made her proud of who she was. If you had asked her on a test, 'Is it good to feel compassion on yourself and others' she would have gotten the answer right. But Sophia also felt brittle in a way that she did not think John, who had always done the right thing as far as she was concerned, would understand. She worried that if she forgave herself, she would no longer be able to force herself to greater and greater heights. "I know, sir," she said instead.

"I worry about you, beloved," John said, his voice a little sad. "I know you had a hard childhood and a hard life. I know that you have not always behaved the way you wish you had. But I also know that you have a good heart and you want to do the right thing. When your heart tells you to be compassionate, you should listen."

Sophia wanted out of the conversation at this point. "I know," Sophia replied, her eyes welling with tears of frustration that John couldn't see behind her helmet.

John frowned and the compassion in his eyes made the whole thing even worse. "I will try to stop lecturing you. I know you need to sleep. Think about how to bring compassion with you on this mission, please?"

"Yes sir," Sophia said. She got up and left, heading to her apartment.

A morning's worth of sleep in the dark of her apartment did not manage to make Sophia feel much better. She was still tormented by the thought of the young theme criminal. On paper, the Knights of Saint Galahad were dedicated to reforming and redeeming criminals, as much as to catching and stopping them. Even theme criminality was, in some sense, reformable but it tended to escalate. If she wanted to help this kid, it meant that she would have to catch him and convince him to get into a program. Sooner was better than later.

The next few days, Sophia missed training more than she should have trying to figure out the copycat. The copycat had duplicated a string of heists her mother had pulled when she was eight, even ones that she had gotten away with cleanly. Sophia still didn't know how it was possible to manage that – Nobody should have known about those.

It was possible that he was some kind of retrocognitive, but theme criminality was only mildly associated with preternatural abilities. She made a methodical list of everyone who might know. Her mother, her mother's prison mates and guards, fences, and possibly – possibly – clients.

It was easy enough to cross reference those people with a matrix of male children between the ages of thirteen and sixteen. "I've got a list," she told Gate as they both sat in their conference room in the early afternoon.

Gate looked up and grinned, "That's great. How do you want to handle it?"

"It's only got about six people on it," Sophia said, holding it up. "But I need a pretty face to do the investigation for me."

"Why? Can't you just take the mask off and investigate?" Gate pointed out. "That's your whole bit. Its the one way your vow of humility pays off."

"No," Sophia said tersely. She wasn't about to explain to Gate that her mother was closely connected enough that even Sophia would draw suspicion.

"Just no?" Gate asked, raising her eyebrows and then shrugging. She stood up and extended her hand, "Let's go investigate some bad guys."

They made their way out. Gate was in her usual fashionable jeans and jacket while Sophia followed behind in her full suit from a substantial distance. The first two kids were duds, they weren't the right height or the right age range. The third one was the son of one of her mother's guards, a thin kid named Stephen Hawker, and even a few minutes of observation made Sophia suspicious of him. "That's our guy," she said into her communicator.

Gate gave her ear a scratch that served to say message received and came back from observation, "That's our guy, huh?"

"Yeah," Sophia said. "He must have gotten the details of the heists from his dad somehow." Sophia had to wonder about that. She had hoped that her mother was serving her time quietly but that did not appear to be the case. If the guard hadn't reported her for her crimes, he must have been getting something pretty good out of it. The Order provided substantial inducements for true reports of criminal activity.

For her part, Sophia and the Hellhounds had not seen much of a reason to report it when she was already in prison. If people knew how much money her mother had managed to make over the course of her criminal career, they might be induced into a life of crimes themselves.

Sophia climbed into Hawker's room. It was immaculate, as clean as her own room was. She was actually somewhat impressed with that fact – How many teenage boys kept their rooms clean? It was a neat trick. She did her best to leave everything undisturbed as she worked through the room methodically but quietly. As Sphinx, she didn't have any need to hurry. If a member of the prison services questioned her right to a search, they were going to get in trouble in ways they couldn't even imagine and they all knew it.

So she had been a little surprised when she heard the elder Hawker's voice from downstairs, "You finally back you idiot?"

She froze up. Did he think that she was Stephen? She supposed a family member of exceptional ability wasn't too unlikely for a theme criminal.

"Dad," a younger voice said in a whining tone. Sophia recognized it instantly – That was the voice that had quoted at her in the museum. "Do we have to do this right now?"

The copycat's steps were coming up the stairs. Sophia leapt into the closet without hesitation, burying herself in it while trying to keep her noise under control.

"I don't know why we shouldn't," his father replied, irritation making his voice higher and harsher. "It's my house, isn't it?"

There was a pause for several seconds. "Yeah, dad, it's your house."

Sophia felt her stomach twist. She knew the theory that theme criminality was often a way of expressing individuality in face of a repressive home life but it all felt a little too freudian for her tastes. Still, it seemed like this was one of those occasions.

"That's right," the older voice said. "And I'll tell you another thing, I don't slave away in that damn prison for you to be acting like some criminal at school."

"Yes sir," the younger voice said.

"Your teacher called again today, said you'd been quoting some dumbass movie trying to provoke him."

"I'm sorry Dad, it was just a joke that got away from me…"

"Just a joke! Just a joke, my son thinks he can blow off the school my taxes pay for. The worst part is I know you're smart, you get top grades in every test, hell, you could be a star athlete if you'd just do your work. Instead I gotta do all the work and take all the crap and listen to some can't-do bitch because you can't just sit in class nice and quiet."

Sophia's parents had never spoken to her in those exact words. The idea of Cypher even thinking about school in an approving way was ridiculous. Lynx might have thought about it but she viewed the idea of personal property as a matter of pure personal discretion. But Sophia knew what it was like to have a parent who was mad at you because you existed and blamed you for the fact they had to act like a grown up.

Sophia knew that many people had difficult family lives and did not steal or lie or break into buildings. But she also knew that she was where she was only because of grace, because someone had taken a chance on her when she had been in the copycat's position.

As the lecture downstairs got quieter, Sophia sat in the closet and considered. She could do nothing, arrest the kid, have him thrown in juvenile detention. Maybe arrest the dad too, just for being a piece of human detritus. There wasn't strictly any law against that, but it was up to her discretion. It would make her feel better.

Or she could take a chance.

When the kid reached the room, she had made up her mind and stepped out of the closet with a finger over her helmet's Sphinx lip.

Stephen froze up. He was fourteen, lanky for his age, with great big brown eyes that would serve him well in later life. "Shit," he said, wiping sweat from his brow and visibly shaking.

"Hello Stephen," she said. "I think you know who I am?" She didn't bother to tell him that as a member of the Olympian Order, she could ensure that he was well and truly cooked now.

He nodded his head slowly, his eyes darting between Sphinx and the door. He didn't say anything, as if he didn't trust himself not to make the situation worse. He was smart – His father had been right about that. "Hellhound's squire."

"I'm glad you already know the score. I wanted to offer you a chance. You're very talented and I can tell you from experience the Order would love to have someone with your skill at B&Es for its own purposes."

"Are you offering me reconciliation?" Stephen asked, sweat almost pouring down his face.

"I want you to join the Order. I think you'll find it much more amicable to someone of your talents than keeping this room spotless."

Stephen nodded his head slowly at that, as if turning the information over in his mind. "Why?"

"I'm a big believer in second chances. I got one, why not you?"

Stephen looked thoughtful at that. He was a lanky kid, tall, but he still had a whole lot of youth in his face. It wasn't that Sophia didn't when she took off her mask but for the first time, Sophia felt like she was seeing what the Hellhounds had seen when they'd caught her the first time. "Wouldn't I need my dad's permission?"

Sophia laughed before shaking her head, "Honestly, if you want me to arrest your dad, I could do that for you."

Stephen gave a sharp laugh that ended as fast as it came. "Kinda funny to imagine," he said after a moment. "But nah, I'm not a big believer in chains.'

Sophia extended her hand, "So what do you say? Do you think you could see yourself joining the Order?"

For a couple of seconds, Stephen hesitated but then he took the hand and shook it. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

Sophia felt a grin spread across her face. She was finally getting a chance to be the person she'd needed for somebody else. It felt right. Christianity was about how even the most deeply, horrifically broken people could be saved. "Awesome, I'll get your invitation sorted out."

Sophia felt a thrill of excitement. She was doing something good and important. To be fair, Stephen would probably have to join another team – Six was pushing it and they didn't need another long tail individual on their team. But there were other teams to join and she could still act as a mentor, just like the Hellhounds did for her.

"Thanks," he said. "Uh, so do I just wait here or do we go to some central processing place or what?"

"Do you want to stay here?" Sophia asked, a little confused.

"It'd be nice to tell my dad to jump in a lake, one last time,"

Personally, Sophia subscribed to the idea that catharsis was a myth. If you wanted emotional satisfaction, you couldn't get it on the back of old wounds. "If that's what you want to do," Sophia handed over a business card to Stephen, "That'll prove I'm legit, in case you have any doubts."

Stephen nodded as he took the card, "Thanks."

And then Sphinx darted out the window. It didn't take long for the invitation to get put through, "Yes sir, I'm confident that he would be a valuable asset. He will need some therapy for the theme criminal thing but otherwise he seems fine."

"Alright Sphinx, I'll put in his probationary number."

About three hours later, she arrived and knocked on the door. Stephen's father opened the door, "Son of a gun," he cursed, nursing a black eye with a slab of meat. "It isn't enough my son lays me out, now I got the God's honest Olympian Order breathing down my neck."

"You should work on controlling your words and feelings more or you're going to keep making enemies that you'd rather not."

"Sorry, ma'am," the man said, shrinking back and down at the implied threat. Only an idiot would choose to go toe to toe with Order, unless there were absolutely no other choice.

"Where's your son, he's got a bright future ahead of him."

"Like I know," the man said, "I was unconscious for a solid fifteen minutes after this hit. There was something in the boy, fighting like a cornered bulldog, if he'd shown that side earlier I'd have thought better of him. By the time I came to, an everloving ton of stuff was missing from the house. Don't know where it went."

Sophia cursed herself internally, "Thanks," she said listlessly and went back to her car an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. For the next week, she threw herself into searching for Stephen. She hated being betrayed and being embarrassed but most of all she hated the crushing feeling of disappointment. She'd been trying to help him, to do something that was a pure kindness. Each of the others came by in turns, trying to persuade her to not be so hard on herself. It was a waste of everybody's time.

The last of the group to make the attempt was Wands. "Hey," he said, looking at her with a sad, compassionate look on his face and leaning against the doorway inside the Ziggurat.

Sophia recoiled internally from the compassion, "You don't have to do this."

"I admit that it feels a little perplexing, from an objective perspective, to be trying to cheer you up when Nereid has failed."

"Tee did a surprisingly good job," Sophia said. He knew enough Bible to be at least a consolation. Of course, Sophia wanted more out of life than righteous defeats so it had limited effect.

"I guess that's good to know," Wands said.

"It's alright, you can tell the others you did your best. I know the Knights and the Magician don't get along."

"The Knights and I have more in common than I thought," Wands said, after a moment. Sophia looked up at that to see Wands' face. He was a young man and a pretty-boy, but he looked genuinely haggard now.

"Isn't the Magician your mentor?"

"If the Magician was your mentor, you wouldn't like him either," Wands said, doing his best to look wry. "He's… You know… He's a harsh guy. Brilliant and instrumental to the order, but the reason people don't like him is… well, obvious."

Sophia processed that. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that Wands might be more distant from his mentor than she was. Processing that thought caused her brain to hiccup several times before she got out a, "That sucks, I'm sorry."

"Me too," he agreed, looking at her with a frown. "Listen, I'm not saying I went through what this Copycat guy went through, but I know what it's like to work with a guy who never appreciates you. Who holds you to impossible standards. Can't imagine what that would do to a kid, every day. I think… maybe you could've been smarter about it but... I don't know. I think you did the wrong thing for the right reasons, and that's got to count for something right?"

But Sphinx didn't know if it counted for anything at all.