The psychic, Kairon, looked down at the main entrance of the Gnosis compound. The surrounding blocks were cordoned off by police, and now biomechs scurried around on the street while Summit capes looked down from above. Kairon and several other capes took position on the nearby parking garage—the same one that apparently housed the Binary Brotherhood’s new base of operations.

While the Brotherhood had donated a considerable force to the Summit and to this particular stakeout, there didn’t seem to be any pause in the coming and goings of drones from their base. Psychics knew more than most, but even Kairon or Ryder weren’t privy to everything in the Summit, nor did they know the true extent of the Brotherhood’s resources. Despite the overall mixed feelings about the Brotherhood’s forces, almost every cape was thankful for their support. Summit leadership hailed the partnership as generous—altruistic, even—but the Brotherhood clearly wasn't hurting for drones…

Was it really that generous of a donation if the Brotherhood had resources to spare?

It was going on a half an hour of waiting now—almost an hour since the intruders had broken into Gnosis—and Kairon and the other capes were getting restless. To Kairon, listening to surface thoughts felt like watching bubbles rising out of a lake. There were people swimming beneath it, but most of the time, all Kairon could see or hear of them were trails of thought bubbles. The person’s inner thoughts were hidden just beneath the surface.

If a psychic really wanted to, they could peer through the water—peer into someone’s mind—but that required effort. And intuition told Kairon to save his strength.

As the stakeout drew on, bubbles of agitation rose to the surface all around the lake. Capes were getting restless. The biomechs were too, and that was beginning to worry Kairon.

As far as anyone in the Summit knew, the biomechs were basically machines. Sure, there were organic parts inside it—namely a brain and something akin to a spinal column and nervous tissue—but everyone thought that biomechs were closer to drones than people. Even Ava Savanus and the Brotherhood believed this.

Kairon, Ryder, and the other psychics knew they were wrong.

Most psychics reported seeing the thoughts of others as abstract images rather than reading a transcript. For Kairon, he saw thoughts as colors. Anger was red, while different types of anger, like jealousy or irritation, were different shades. Sadness was blue, and so on. Most human thoughts could loosely be categorized in the standard box of sixty-four crayons.

Just like psychics could see the surface thoughts of people, they could also see the surface thoughts of animals as well. Most animal thoughts weren’t nearly as complex. Their emotions fit inside the small box of eight crayons—the most common being happiness, sadness, anger, fear, surprise, hunger, and disgust. A pigeon didn’t feel something as complex as melancholy or existential dread. Kairon hadn’t met a great ape or a dolphin, so he couldn’t speak to more intelligent animals. On the whole, an animal’s emotions were more bright and primal than the varied shades of emotion that human’s experienced.

Biomechs were closer to animals than people. Their emotions were raw and bright as they bubbled up in Kairon’s psychic sense.

It was one thing being around an angry dog or a cat hunting a mouse—it was another to be around a ten ton mech practically screaming various combinations of Hungry, Angry, Kill. And it wasn’t just the heavy mech. A disturbing chorus of thoughts bubbled up from the dozens of biomechs on the street.

To Kairon, it felt like the roofs and streets surrounding Gnosis were buzzing like angry hornets.

Gunfire erupted in the distance—around the Easternmost hidden entrance to Gnosis. The chorus of thoughts coalesced—surprised, excited, hostile—before turning—panicked, frustrated, helpless. The biomechs fared only a little better—angry, sadness, fear.

One psychic signature rose above all the others. The reality warper, Invarius, was reaching out toward the other stakeout groups. Invarius could close the distance between them and shunt them all over. The intruders might be able to get through a smaller group, but there was no way they could get through the combined might of the Summit and the Brotherhood.

Or so, that was what Kairon thought until he felt the sudden changes in the chorus of thoughts. Then Kairon’s thoughts had changed. Excited, satisfied, impressed—gave way to—dismayed, panic, dread. Certain emotions were naturally brighter than others, and Invarius’s panic eclipsed even that of the biomechs.

Invarius and the others were in trouble.

Kairon focused. He latched on to Invarius, reaching under the surface of the psychic lake like he was reaching for a drowning swimmer. Despite Invarius’s eyes, ears, and throat closing—despite feeling like he was drowning—Invarius was still trying to bring the other capes across the Eastside.

Kairon latched onto that sense of duty and bolstered it. Panic and doubt and dread battered Invarius like a storm, but Kairon bolstered the cape’s mind from within.

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Invarius grasped for Kairon as well. The reality warper was bringing him over next.

Kairon felt the world lurch—

And he lurched with it.

~

It wasn’t teleportation, not exactly.

It was more like four long steps.

In the second it took Kairon to run across one rooftop, he’d run across eight city blocks.

The world came back into sharp focus. He was across Eastside, well into the abandoned sections. He was standing atop another roof, overlooking an unfolding battle. With his psychic powers, Kairon took in the battle quickly, and realized—

It had already turned against them.

Multiple supers and mechs were down, their voices a mix of panic, helpless, and hysterical. Without delving deeper into their minds or finding them visually, he couldn’t know who was grievously wounded or dying.

He reached out to the capes close to him, dampening some emotions and bolstering others. He softened their fear, honed their concentration, leaned on their duty to their fellow capes. He’d done similarly during the war with the Deep Ones—

But now he felt pitiful and outmatched.

Somehow, these intruders were pushing the Summit and the Brotherhood to their limits. Kairon tried to help his teammates, but there were too many capes that needed help.

So, Kairon stretched his perception. He kept his tether to Invarius—kept bolstering the reality warper so that he could bring more reinforcements. But now he had another duty. Kairon was familiar enough with the capes around him and the biomechs below that he could ignore them and focus on the intruders.

Two immediately stood out. A Gnosis test subject full of strength and an old woman with barrier powers… That couldn’t be right—if Kairon’s senses were correct, she was as old as an ancient vampire. Kairon pushed the thought from his mind and focused on the pair.

There were two others—four in total. This second pair was hidden or shielded. Clearly, artificers of some kind. Not even other psychics could hide their minds so well. But they couldn’t hide completely. The two artificers still existed as shadows in their teammates’ minds.

And that wasn’t all. There was a young gadgeteer that was sympathetic to the artificer. McGuire… He wouldn’t raise a hand against the villain.

Not unless he was forced.

The words came to Kairon like someone whispering down the hall. It was like hearing a voice when you thought you were home alone. Except, that Kairon should’ve been alone in his own head.

The world seemed to slow down around him, capes and biomechs slowing until they were trudging through molasses. Chunks of debris floated by and even flashes of gunfire hung lazily in the air.

Kairon wasn’t alone. There were others here with him.

That’s right. We’re here with you, the voices said.

Kairon looked inside his own mind and found a long hallway. At the end of it was a single door. It was already cracked, and light filtered through.

Kairon recognized every corridor and every room in his mind. Every memory, every fantasy, every aspiration had its proper place.

For the first time since he’d unlocked his psychic power, Kairon stared at a hallway and a door he didn’t recognize.

…When had that door gotten there?

A small part of the psychic knew that he should be afraid of that door and whatever might be behind it, but the voices were so reassuring.

Voices came through the crack, growing more numerous as they spoke.

You’re so good at working in a team. Together, you and the other psychics in Belport held back the Deep Ones. The Summit couldn’t have done it without you. The Brotherhood couldn’t have done it without you. None of them could.

But you’re the only psychic on the Eastside. You’re so very alone.

Kairon nodded hesitantly. He was the only psychic surrounding Gnosis. It was up to him to help the other capes. He had to hold it together, just like Invarius was holding it together.

That’s what heroes do, the voices said. They help each other.

But you don’t need to be alone anymore. We can do it together.

You just need to let us in.

The voices were right. The Summit needed help. Kairon needed help.

He was already walking toward the door.

The door was already open.

The door was already open.

The man that was Kairon turned his attention from inward to outward. Back to the battle.

This time he reached out, and the collective reached out through him. An amalgamation of souls and psyches exerted their will, and all sentient creatures on the block bent like stalks of wheat. The collective turned them all against the artificers.

The Gnosis test subject—

> They were easy. The collective fanned their flames of hate, jealousy, and revenge. He would kill.

The ancient woman with barrier powers—

> She was harder, but now she couldn’t trust them. They knew her secrets and were working against her. She might not kill them, but she could maim them.

The gadgeteer—

> He was complicated. He wouldn’t harm his friends, but he would spar with them. The collective took away all the feeling of danger and turned the fight into a game.

And all the small-brained biomechs—

> They were the easiest of all. The collective snuck into their minds like a cuckoo bird, taking their Mother’s place. Mother doesn’t want prisoners. She never wanted prisoners.

Despite the psychic and physical tempests on Eastside, a small part of Kairon knew that the door in his mind was gone. It was blown open. Disintegrated. But even if he could never be singular again, he could rest assured that his sacrifice would save his fellow capes.

The man that was Kairon became a pane of glass, and the will of the collective flowed through him.

~ ~ ~