Chetachi had considered killing her.

He acted all genial, but he’d revealed his true intention in the way he’d glimpsed the knife. Had she tried reaching for it, he would have grabbed it and raked it across her throat.

He hadn't done it, her small inner voice said. You shouldn't lump him in the same category as the others.

But she hadn't given him any reason to consider it in the first place. So why had he?

Because humans love to hurt the weak, a louder voice answered. That is the way society operates. That is the manner in which you were raised.

The recessed lamps flickered, glinting off the mirror on her desk.

The Hero Council knew. She was sure of it now. They’d uncovered the full details of her past and had informed Chetachi in the process.

Who else was in the know? Alewo? Obong? Toye? The base was no longer a haven for her—not that it ever was. She'd only been deceiving herself.

Ava climbed out of bed. The cool tiles met her socked feet, sending pleasurable jolts shooting up her legs. Her wardrobe hung ajar, strewn with the clothes Catherine had gifted her. The woman had selected styles she thought suited Ava the most. But Ava didn't wear hoodies and distressed jeans by choice. She liked frilly dresses, lace and summer skirts too. She’d never indulged in them, however. Not when the majority of her schedule involved being on the run. But she liked them all the same.

Ava moved away from the wardrobe and untucked the upper part of her costume. The vest went flying, disappearing somewhere beneath the bed. She stood in front of the vanity desk and glared at the mirror. A scrawny, collared girl glared back at her.

Get your shit together, Ava, the louder voice said.

She shouldn’t grow comfortable here. Her experience with the Heroes felt nice while it lasted. But the things she really liked tended to blow up in her face.

Just like the fiasco with the Castaways.

She dipped her fingers into her watch pocket and fished out the slip. The crumpled paper bore a number scribbled in a fancy hand—a parting gift from All Mine, who'd slipped the note into her palm minutes after leaving the cafeteria.

Ava held the piece of paper up to the light, clucking her tongue. If All Mine was interested, all she needed to do was ask. However, All Mine hadn’t delivered the note demurely. Her message wasn’t an invitation to talk; it was an act of compulsion. Which begged the question: Who in the SRA wanted to speak with her?

“Definitely no one good,” Ava said, tossing out the note. She didn't even own a phone.

Her vanity desk called out to her—an ode to high artisanship, and the one feature she loved about her room. She delved into the top drawer before she could stop herself, shoving various accessories aside.

The ring sat in its casing in the same position she’d left it. She picked it up and sat back on the bed, rolling the jewelry piece between her fingers. It wasn’t anything fancy: three bands of gold ran interlocked in a circle. The ring held no centerpiece to dazzle the eye. And yet . . .

Ava shoved the ring into her pocket, choking back a sob.

She was done with her past. She'd made that promise to herself. They'd parted ways and she didn't care what they got up to. Sure, she’d been surprised to hear her old friends were active in Newtown. But if their criminal jaunt ended up becoming their waterloo, that was their problem. It had nothing to do with her.

Right?

Yea, the louder voice said.

You're wrong, the other replied.

Ava curled in on herself, draping her arms around her knees.

The lamps flickered again and went out, plunging the room into darkness. The air conditioner ground to halt.

“Real funny, AV,” Ava muttered. “I'm not in the mood for jokes.”

AV didn't say anything through the PA system.

The bastard cut power to her room anytime she refused to rouse. Sure, Catherine put him up to the deed. But he was still a bastard for going along with it.

Ava riffled through her waist pouch for her radio. “Haha, jerkface. You can turn the power back on, now. It's the middle of the day and I'm sweltering. I didn't do anything wrong.”

Static.

So, not AV then. Had the power gone out on its own? The backup generators should have followed instantly.

She waited on the edge of her bed in the darkness. Five minutes turned to ten, and ten to fifteen. Fuckers.

The ceiling reverberated. Once. Twice.

Ava stilled, waiting for more.

Nothing.

Yeah, it was probably nothing. But a queasy feeling pooled in her gut.

She fumbled through the dark for her top. Her domino mask lay somewhere on the floor, but eh, whatever. She slung her vest over her shoulder and shuffled out into the corridor, relying on memory.

A profound blackness hit her, stretching like a gaping maw. She placed one palm on the wall and made her way into the passage separating both dorm groups. A ray of light pierced the dark in the direction of the distant catwalk—a flashlight if the way it bobbed was any indication.

She approached it, keeping her palm on the wall.

“A-ava?” Alewo called, the moment she appeared.

“Yep. That's me.”

“Oh, good. Do you know what's . . .” he trailed off as the spill from the light beam settled on her. Then he spluttered, and the flashlight jumped around in his hands. “Why are you naked?!”

“Naked?” Ava said, chuckling. “You haven't seen a sports bra before?”

“Just . . . put something on!”

Ava sighed, draping the hooded vest over her head. “Alright, I'm decent now.”

“You sure?” he asked, not looking.

“You don't want me to be?”

“Well, I mean . . . Ah . . . err . . .”

Haha. What was this reaction?

Ava looked around the base. “What's up with this anyway? Some scheduled maintenance we heard nothing about?”

“No,” Alewo said, “AV would have warned us. But he is not responding, and I don't like that. Not when you consider that we might be the only Supers left in the base.”

The queasy feeling in Ava's stomach doubled. “Can't you use your phone to call someone? Kabash? Catherine? Anybody?”

“Well . . .” Alewo rubbed the back of his neck.

“Where's your phone, fam?”

“Ugh. A power outage was the last thing I was expecting. I was playing this mobile game and dozed off without plugging it in.”

Ava took a calming breath. Both inner voices urged her to hit him.

“Not to worry though,” Alewo said in a rush, sensing her rage. “I have a ton of power banks in the workshop. I was actually headed there when you came.”

“Can we get in? I thought the whole damn building is automated.”

“It is. But the entrance through the dorms functions as a regular trapdoor. Come on.”

Alewo led the way to an alcove, hidden between the male and female halves of the eastern wing. He passed the flashlight to Ava and hunkered down over a latch. The trapdoor swung open with a soft whirr.

“I heard some explosions,” Ava said. “That’s not a good sign, yeah?”

“Yeah. But don't worry. I doubt any blasts can harm us in here.”

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“That doesn't fill me with confidence.”

Alewo chuckled. He grabbed the handle of the stairs and climbed down into the chasm below. Ava followed after him, flashlight in hand.

The workshop opened up like the gullet of some cavernous creature whose innards were forged from solid steel and concrete. The narrow light beam failed to pierce the expansive darkness. Dust motes flew across its shaft.

“Flashlight, please,” Alewo said.

Ava handed it over.

Alewo guided her to a couple of desks cluttered with electronics. A power bank sat on one of the desks, and he placed his phone on its surface. The display came on.

Ava rubbed her hands and looked around the room. A single mechanoid arm blinked atop the table. Beyond that, plugged into a power terminal, Alewo's mechanized walker waited.

“Okay, got it on,” Alewo said, grabbing his phone. He dialed a number on speaker. “AV—”

“Alewo?!” AV rasped. “Why haven't you been picking?”

“Umm—”

“The Four-oh-Four is attacking the base!”

“In broad daylight?!”

“Where's Ava?”

Alewo glanced at her. “She's right here.”

“Good. We're trying to resolve the power situation. But you need to hide and await further instruc—”

“Wait. The Four-oh-Four is here?” Ava said. “Like, right here?”

AV grunted. “They hit the gate some minutes ago. They are somewhere on the premises as we speak.”

A shiver crawled up Ava's spine.

“Who else is available?” Alewo asked. “Among the Supers, that is.”

“Just the two of you and Elixir,” AV said. “I reached her earlier but . . . hold on. I'll get back—”

The line went dead.

“This blows,” Ava said.

Alewo climbed into his walker.

“You're going out to fight?”

“No,” Alewo said, donning a helmet, “but between your collar and my Player-type abilities, we're two seconds away from death. I've fought the Four-oh-Four. You don't want Manbite bearing down on you with only Panzer for defense.”

“Got any weapons I can use?”

Alewo fiddled with the controls. “Yeah. I tricked out an electroshock staff. Got inspiration from Rabidor's halberd. It should be on the desk. Second to the left.”

Ava found the device. It was a burly-looking thing filled with all sorts of widgets. It would have to do.

“You can flick the switch in the upper third to send electricity surging up the tip,” Alewo explained. “The staff serves as a melee weapon that way. The lower switch uses a pneumatic mechanism to fire wireless darts. Toggle the upper switch to charge or discharge them. You get ten shots of two max.”

Ava nodded.

Neviecha ambled forward in his walker. Its large claw arm jerked, sweeping items off a desk. “Whoops. Still need to work out some kinks on the Amos here.” He lifted his phone with the claw and grabbed it with his real hands. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”

Ava leaned against a desk.

“Any idea what the Four-oh-Four is doing here?” Neviecha asked. “This seems pretty brazen, even for them.”

Ava's stomach turned. “I dunno, fam. Revenge?”

You know. They came looking for you.

Neviecha muttered a curse. “Revenge, huh? I can see that being a reason, but why did they let Volley go during our fight?”

“I'm just saying.”

“Yeah.” He looked around the workshop. “It is weird for this to happen right after we agreed to destroy the Four-oh-Four. Almost as if they were seated at the meeting with us . . .”

Ava gripped the staff.

“Oh, snap,” Neviecha said. “That's it, isn't it? They've got a mole on our side.”

“You can't be sure.”

“Think about it. Everything went wrong with that Evans mission too.”

The lights came on.

“Huzzah,” Neviecha cheered.

It went off again.

A distant bang followed, muffled but audible. Neviecha and Ava exchanged looks.

“That can't be good,” Ava said.

The ground shuddered, and the bang repeated, going off every few minutes.

“Dammit,” Neviecha cried, moving in the dark.

“Where are you going?”

“That's the sound of fighting,” he said, voice grim. “I can't stand back and do nothing. People are dying.”

“Woah, hold on,” Ava said, pushing off the desk. “Like, chill out. This isn't the time to play hero.”

“Is there ever? Yet we do it anyway.”

Ava ran a hand through her hair. “Why not call AV first? Check the situation with him?”

Neviecha tapped his phone. His features curved into a grimace in the light of the display screen. “No answer. Tried thrice.”

The workshop shuddered again.

“How do you intend to get that machine out of the room?” Ava asked.

“Via the side door. It has a lever built in for emergencies.” He disappeared into the cavern. “Can you grab the flashlight for me? I should be able to locate it.”

The workshop buzzed. Indicators came alive on electronic devices. Tiny bulbs lit up on the ceiling, providing illumination, however dim.

“The power's back?” Ava asked, squinting.

“No. A backup,” Neviecha said. “Probably solar.” He reached the entrance of the workshop. “Nice. The door's working again.”

The heavy steel door slid sideways. The lights hadn't fully returned out in the entrance hall, but the few of them that had ensured sufficient visibility. Ava killed the flashlight.

“You stay here,” Neviecha said. “I'm going topside. ‘See if I can help.”

“There's nothing you can do that the Combat suits haven't already done.”

Neviecha frowned at her and loped off toward the main exit.

“Come on, man,” Ava said, hurrying after him. “We don't know what's happening out there. We should hide and wait for reinforcements. Besides, who's going to protect me if the Four-oh-Four breaks in?”

“They can't break in. The walls here are too thick.”

“And we thought they weren't bold enough to attack our base in the middle of the day, yet here we are.”

Neviecha glanced her way. “What do you want, Bazaar?”

“Maybe your phone, for one? If you're going to leave me alone, at least give me a means of communication.”

“Denied. Kabash was very clear on the rules of your probation. You aren’t allowed near a phone. Even if you wanted to call on heaven.”

“Even at a time like this?”

Neviecha sighed. “Look—”

The main exit parted. Three people stood in the gap, spread out to avoid an ambush. They all wore half-face respirators, but that was where the similarities ended. The largest of the three was a big, white ape who growled from his position on the left. To his right, a tattoo-faced man stood, eyes narrowed. His loose black cloak framed armored boots, and an unconscious person lay slung over his shoulder.

A woman rounded out the Villains’ number, masked the same way, and built like a runner. Her hair hung in a mono braid over her shoulder. Rough carapace peeked out from beneath her tank top, running up her neck and the top of her face. She raised her eyes to meet them, and Ava’s heartbeat stopped.

Cnidarian and Neviecha moved at the same time. The latter leveled a cannon at the Villain right as a wall of corals ruptured the ground. The resulting wave of light and heat chipped the corals and smacked Ava back to the present. She turned, making a beeline for the workshop.

Manbite scaled the coral wall in a single bound, landing in her path. He reached for her, a snarl escaping from his throat. A vortex ring exploded beside him.

“Run,” Neviecha yelled, piloting the mech between her and the Villains. He fired again.

The third Villain—the one with a body slung over his shoulder—stepped into the path of the vortical ring. The chemical explosion warped around him. Fire and light vanished, dissipating in a weak rush of air.

Neviecha backpedaled, raising his cannon. Manbite lunged up at that moment, and Neviecha dodged, pulling off a fancy twirl. Cnidarian raised a wall of corals, and the Amos stumbled—on course for collision with Tattoo-face.

Tattoo-face ran his bare hand through the walker's digitigrade leg. The bottom half clattered to the floor. He sidestepped the toppling mech with ease. Then he raised his hand and plunged it through Neviecha’s chair, straight into his back.

Neviecha gurgled, spilling blood onto his dashboard.

“You fucker!” Ava screamed, aiming her weapon. The darts flew dead target at Tattoo-face, only to shatter at the last second. “Fuck!”

“Ava,” Manbite warned.

“Fuckers,” she screamed, firing some more.

“Ava!” Manbite hauled her up by the arm. He grabbed the weapon with his other hand and snapped it.

Ava gritted her teeth, biting back the tears.

The Villain who’d killed Neviecha cocked his head. He hadn’t dropped his hostage all through the fight. He stared at Ava, and she saw his nature clear as day through the respirator.

He was a killer. The kind who held no value whatsoever for human life.

“I won't warn again, Ava,” Manbite growled, as she kicked him in the knee. “Cut it out!”

“It's fine,” Cnidarian said. “Let her go. I’ll handle it.”

Ava's heart lurched. Her muscles must have slackened because Manbite let her gently to the ground.

Cnidarian walked up to her.

For one long moment, neither girl said a word to the other.

Cnidarian pulled her into a hug. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

Ava froze, blinking back the tears. “Not the best reunion, this.”

For once, the voices in her head had nothing to say.

“I'm sorry about your teammate,” Cnidarian said. “You know I'd have done things differently if I could, right?”

“We've found your friend,” Neviecha's killer said. “We leave now. Meet up with others.”

“Boil can wait,” Manbite spat.

“No,” Cnidarian said. “Invariant is right. We can't afford to dally.” She tugged Ava's hand. “Let's go.”

“Wait,” Ava said. “You came for me?”

“I came for you,” Cnidarian said. “They came for someone else. We've all gotten what we wanted, so the mission is done. Come.”

Ava chuckled. “Well, yeah. I ain't.”

Cnidarian froze. “Ava . . .”

Ava jerked back her hand. “I'm not coming with you. Fuck. This is wrong.”

“The team needs you, Ava,” Manbite said, tail swishing behind him. “Your real team. Not these pathetic excuses for losers.”

“And I told you I'm done with that,” Ava snarled. “I’m not coming back.”

“Done with what?” Manbite said, rumbling deep in his throat. “You claimed you were fed up with superhuman shenanigans. Yet, here you are: playing Hero with the kids. We heard how they alienate you, Ava. How they keep you submissive at the end of a leash. Is that what you want?”

“Shut up, Manbite,” Cnidarian hissed. She turned a soft gaze on Ava. “Can we discuss this later? This isn't the place.”

Ava's skin crawled. “There will never be a place. You fuckers killed my teammate!”

A boom resonated from somewhere in the parking lot.

“Cnidarian,” Invariant warned.

Cnidarian raised a hand. “Manbite, the purse.”

The giant ape-man pulled a purse from his shredded pants pocket. He handed it to Cnidarian, and she picked a single tube of red from it. She crossed the rubble in Neviecha’s direction. The boy twitched weakly. Blood ran down his mouth.

“What do you think you're doing?” Invariant asked, malice dripping off his form.

“Correcting your mistake,” Cnidarian said. She touched two fingers to Neviecha's neck, then placed the vial by the side of his open mouth. The red fluid trickled down.

“What did you do to him?” Ava asked.

“I saved his life,” Cnidarian said. “Elixir's blood contains healing properties.”

Ava glanced at the woman draped over Invariant’s shoulder. She hung unconscious and was dressed in plain clothes, but her curvy figure was hard to miss up close.

“She’s helped your friend,” Manbite said. “She didn't have to. But she did. What will it be now, Ava?”

Ava frowned. No. She’d abandoned this life. She couldn’t afford to get sucked in again.

The small weight in her pocket made itself known.

We didn't fully abandon this, dearie, the louder voice said.

We did, the smaller replied.

Did Not. If we truly left them, we wouldn’t stare at the gift every day.

We stare at it because we remember.

We stare at it because we yearn.

The gift . . .

The gift.

What about what I want? Ava yelled into her head.

What about her promise? That she would clean house. Start over. Get her life back on track.

An explosion rocked the building.

“Cnidarian!” Invariant barked.

Cnidarian walked up to her.

This is wrong, Ava thought, as the other girl approached. It doesn't matter what I mean to her. The lives of those dying now are equally important.

Cnidarian lifted both hands to the buttons on Ava's neck. The collar came away with a click.

“You were always meant to be free,” Cnidarian whispered. “I won’t force you. I never did, not even then. But I can't do this without you.” She paused. “We are so close to fulfilling our dream, Ava. Now more than ever, I need your help.”

Ava bit back a sob. She could never abandon them, could she? When push came to shove, her real family mattered a hundred times more than anything else.

“I'm coming with,” Ava said, managing not to choke.

She didn't look back.