Sunday, January 31

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“Annie, your phone’s been going off for the last twenty minutes,” Bianca said from my bedroom door. “It’s Rocko.”

I buried my head deeper under the covers where I’d been hiding. The migraine I’d been fighting wouldn’t fade—if anything, it was worse. I squeezed my eyes shut, crossed my fingers, and silently wished she’d go away.

She didn’t. She pulled on my blankets instead, and we had a brief tug-of-war before they slid off the bed and onto the floor with a whump. I blinked at the sudden light and the exhausted-looking Bianca looming over me. Then I shut my eyes again. If I pretended I wasn’t awake, maybe she’d leave. It was worth a shot.

Then something thumped down on the end table. I cracked an eye and smiled. “Bee, you’re the best.” A trio of ibuprofen and a glass of water sat there, and I struggled upright, popped the pills, and drained the glass in one long pull.

She handed me a slice of bread. “If you get crumbs on my side, I’m gonna kick your ass worse than yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah…sorry, I thought it’d work.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was a good idea, but we didn’t execute it correctly. We’ll talk more about it later. For now, bread, water, drugs.”

“Thanks.” I chewed the white bread, swallowed, and took my pills.

“Honeycomb and Vigilant Vow both got pretty beat up last night. I’ve been texting her, and she says they got in over their heads, and it wasn’t my fault. Guess who they’re blaming?”

“Me?” I groaned.

Bianca grinned. “No, dumbass,” she teased. “The villain in the Episode, who probably won’t ever appear again, right?”

I flushed red. My first thought was to push back. I needed Dark Girl Shock and Awe; she’d already made a statement about seeking justice and trying to wake people up, and she was necessary for…whatever our little rebellion had been and would turn into. But when I told Bee as much, she laughed. “I don’t think so. Your mom was right. That power set’s just not practical in a place with any population at all.”

I set down the water cup and slowly pulled myself out of bed. “Thanks again,” I said, smiling weakly.

“No problem. Now that that’s taken care of, you should probably check your phone,” Bee said. “Rocko’s been blowing up our lines. They want us back out there. No mention of last night. None. Zero.”

I grimaced at the wall of text messages.

And on and on. I finally read the last one, blood boiling.

Bianca flicked on the TV; we hadn’t watched anything in a couple of days, and it was time to catch up. Still in my nightie, I padded out to the couch, found ‘The Diary of Golden Goose’ on the coffee table, and opened it to a random page. But before I could focus on the words, the muted news story on the TV caught my eye. Bianca unmuted while I stared at Dr. Mindstorm. She stood at a TU podium, flashbulbs going off around her.

“…my immediate resignation from Tokyexico University’s faculty. I’ve been suspicious of the Ilneats for a long time, and with Golden Goose’s diary, those suspicions have been reinforced. I am also declaring my…contract…with the Ilneat Network void, as well as the terms of my treaty with Mister Felsic. As of noon today…Mindstorm is back in business.”

The news anchor took over. “Mindstorm’s statement yesterday, while initially unique, has been followed up by a dozen other superheroes and villains in the minor and major leagues over the last eighteen hours. Golden Goose’s diary seems to have changed the entire superpowered landscape, with powerful heroes and villains coming out in support of their Ilneat production studios and against them. The biggest heroes in Tokyexico seem inclined to stay with their studios, including Stella-Lunar and The Triad. However, a couple of big-name villains have followed Mindstorm and declared their contracts void.

“It remains to be seen how this shake-up will play out, both in terms of the Third Power War and the future of the studio system in general. However, TCNN will be there to cover these world-shaking events as they happen.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The screen went blue on one side and red on the other, and pictures of Stella-Lunar and The Triad appeared on one side. I shut the TV off as Mindstorm and McHammer’s portraits appeared on the other side. This was what Golden Goose’s killer meant by the whole mess being exposed.

I stalked into the Green Room. Bianca followed me, a tray with cereal on it in her hands. She set it down on the conversation pit’s coffee table and went to the two computer screens. “So, uh, what’s going on?”

I stared at the two screens; where they’d once featured our rogues’ gallery, they now showed the same two lists I’d seen on TV. As I watched, two names appeared on the first one, right below McHammer’s: Gourmet and The Crumb. Then another popped up under The Triad’s: Dr. Mays.

“They’re picking sides,” I whispered.

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As the rosters filled out, with heroes and villains from across Tokyexico City and North America choosing their sides, I stared at Rocko’s door. The star on it didn’t look quite as shiny as it had a couple of days ago, and I had a sudden thought.

I’d go talk to them. They’d explain everything, how the abuse Snowball had heaped on Jasmine Saxton was just one bad apple. It’d make sense, and I could go back to doing what I’d been doing. But would it be the truth?

No, it wouldn’t be.

To say nothing of the Extras the Network had put in harm’s way, Honeycomb’s career had been sidelined by Ed because her powers weren’t adequate. They hadn’t tried to find a different job for her. They’d just focused on Jumper since the villain was at least capable and crafty. And Cartman had broken my mom, kept their job, and turned around to manipulate Vigilant Vow. I wished I could talk to Gourmet, but she’d already made her choice. Her name was under Mindstorm’s, on the side that was against the Network. So was Theseus’s.

I paused at that. Theseus and Gourmet had both taken career paths that pushed them away from the Ilneat studios. As I watched, three more names appeared on the ‘against’ list: Honeycomb’s, Vigilant Vow’s, and The Narrator’s. None of them worked well with the Network, either.

That was a headscratcher. All three of them had anti-studio feelings, but Mrs. N stayed out of these kinds of fights. If it didn’t involve her daycare, she just…didn’t engage. For her to pick sides and put herself out there, risking the daycare, meant something. I had to figure out what, though.

“What are we going to do?” Bianca asked.

“I don’t know yet. What do you think we should do?” My hand still hovered over Rocko’s studio door, and I pulled it away to join her on the couch.

“I don’t know.”

“Me either.” But that wasn’t entirely true. There were two choices. Just two. And they both had pros and cons.

The obvious choice was to join Stella-Lunar’s team. She was the best; I’d grown up practically worshiping her, and there was no telling what the Network would do to the supers who were against them.

I didn’t want to linger on that last thought. So, instead, I stood up and walked to the roof.

Really, it was simple. One side had all the power. They already had the best hero in North America, the strongest team in Tokyexico, and a lock-down meta-powered hero in Mayes. Against them, the other side had an assortment of minor league heroes and villains, a couple of powerhouses, and The Narrator. The right call was to join up with Stella-Lunar. But even so, I lingered on the roof and watched the snow fall.

It wasn’t a whiteout. The news had called for a blizzard, but instead, all we were getting was flakes swirling in a light breeze. The air smelled crisp, and I took one deep breath, then another.

“Hey, Annie, you need to see this,” Bianca called from the stairs.

I groaned. My mind was made up, and all I had to do was make a decision and get my name on the pro-studio list. Rocko had given me everything, and I owed them my career, some of my best friends, and both of my relationships. Besides, they’d never treated me like Golden Goose. I’d always been a partner in their studio.

When I went downstairs, the news was blaring again.

“Pennyworth, the financial crime-based villain currently controlling Yorkston’s stock market, has joined the opposition to the Ilneat Network,” the talking head was saying. “According to him, the Ilneat Network made the equivalent of eight trillion dollars from superhero shows last year, but the overall share given to Earth’s heroes was less than a tenth of a percent. In his statement, he apologized for not noticing the lack of pay sooner, saying that he assumed his compensation matched that of other heroes’ and villains’.

“Okay,” I said, “that could just be a coincidence, right?”

“You have no idea how much you make, do you?” Bianca asked.

“Uh, no. Rocko paid me, and I always felt like it was fair. But…” I pulled out my phone and dialed the Ilneat’s number. As it rang and rang, I thought about what I was going to ask, what I was going to say. But it just kept ringing, and eventually, I hung up. Instead, I stomped to the door and pushed down on the handle.

Or at least, I tried to.

But it wouldn’t move. I was locked out of Rocko’s studio.

Instead, a text message appeared on my phone.

I screamed in frustration and tossed the phone onto the couch, where it bounced onto the floor. I didn’t even bother checking it for damage. The bastard wasn’t helping me make a decision. And it was such a permanent decision. My name would be on a list of other rebelling heroes. No, rebelling supers. Half of each team was vils. But this choice would be permanent, unlike our attempt to wreck the Hot Zone. We couldn’t walk this back.

“Mindstorm has put out a call for any supers who believe they’ve been mistreated by the Ilneat Network to meet her at her lair if they’re in the Tokyexico City area. If not, she’ll be in touch,” the talking head said. “Is this the beginning of a new phase in the Third Power War? TCNN recommends all unpowered citizens take shelter, just in case!”

I glanced at the two computer screens. My head spun; could I walk away from Rocko and Heroics 101? It and Small Town Super had been my whole life, and it’d be easiest to keep working wi—

A new name popped onto the pro-studio list, and my hands balled into fists.

The Agent.

My throat tightened, and I glared so hard my eyes hurt. He’d chosen his side, and I couldn’t work with him. No way. He was slimy enough that if he was on one side, he knew it was the wrong one, but he’d come out ahead if it won. And that made up my mind. I started my transformation sequence, nodding at the anti-studio list. Was it the weaker side? Absolutely. But that didn’t matter right now.

What did matter was that, as Magical Girl Understudy and Fursona’s names appeared on the list a minute later, I felt good. Right, even. My phone buzzed. I ignored it, though. My contract was void.