Spencer eyed him as she approached. "No beer today?"

"I'm as sober as a priest."

"They drink wine."

"How about nuns? Are they sober?" Mike clapped his hands. "I know, I'm as sober as an imam."

"A what?"

"Muslim priest."

"Oh. I guess that works. Just be careful at airport security."

Mike grinned. "If I do go into an airport, I'll try not to yell 'Allahu Akbar' while boarding."

"Maybe you should just drink at airports to be safe." Spencer folded her arms before her. "So . . . what are we training tonight? I assume you're somehow teaching even though we have equal experience with the talents."

"Probably not equal anymore. Training talents has been my job and my hobby ever since Marius left."

"Then back to my question. What are we doing tonight?"

Mike retrieved the sticky note and held it out for her to take. She frowned as she read. The instructions didn't offer much comfort. 'Erica lessons. Play catch using coronas - do not use vasting. Work teleotic talent by freezing water. Also heal slice and stab wounds.'

"I'm fine playing catch and freezing water, but I'm not getting knifed," she said.

"The slicing ain't as bad as you'd think. Stabbing is rough."

"You already did this?"

"I trained yesterday with Srinivas. We played around with broken glass." Mike took the sticky note back. "How about we do an alternative lesson plan?"

Spencer shrugged. "I'm listening."

"Parkour."

"I don't understand."

"Sometimes called free running? Basically, we make ourselves lighter and then run around jumping on roofs and shit."

Spencer nodded. "That . . . actually sounds like fun. Too bad we aren't strong enough to fly."

"Believe it or not, this might be better. It's an incredible rush. Just remember the rules: exclude the head and the legs when you push up with your corona."

"Yes, yes, I know that already."

"Well, if you're going to be impatient, let's just get started. Race you to the top of the incline?"

She turned to face the direction he pointed. A stairway led up to a covered walkway that crossed the busy road and entered the bottom station of the incline. From there, two sets of railroad tracks climbed the hill, above which stretched the cables that would move the cars. At the top of the steep slope squatted the top station in a line of buildings. "You want to climb the hill?"

"I want to race up that thing like a crazy person," Mike corrected.

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In lieu of a response, Spencer sprinted towards the stairs. With a chuckle, Mike followed on her heels. As she began to leap up the steps five at a time, Mike jumped straight up to grab the railing, then launched himself up to seize the edge of the roof and perform an animas assisted muscle up. His feet pounded across the metal roof as he sprinted, using his corona to propel himself forward, no longer lightening his body but instead compounding his momentum so that even a slight misstep could be disastrous. At the end of the stretch, he hopped onto the roof of the station, ran forward again, and then jumped down onto the track. A few bounding steps later, he heard Spencer land on the tracks just behind him.

The two of them charged up the track at a hectic pace, night time scenery blurring past them on each side, the icy wind of their movement roaring in their ears. Mike reached their destination first, shimmying up a drain pipe to reach the roof of the top station. He flopped onto his back and waited for Spencer to appear, breathing heavy. She collapsed to her knees beside him out of nowhere, wheezing. "That . . . was . . . insane."

Once they had caught their breaths, they hopped roofs for a few blocks before hitting the streets at a spot no one would see their oddly slow motion falls. They wandered through the neighborhood, using massive amounts of gravitas to affix pebbles to any concrete they could find. Mike giggled for five minutes after spelling out 'turd' on a jersey barrier with larger rocks. That Spencer couldn't keep a straight face while she insulted his class and intelligence only made it better.

They climbed back down the slope through a wooded section, using animas to control their descent, and then made their way to the riverside trail for the return trip. As they approached the parking lot, Mike noticed the lights of a third vehicle present and slowed the pace. Spencer slowed to a halt. "That's a police car."

Mike stared at the car until the outline of dormant lights became evident on its roof, barely visible due to the beaming headlights illuminating their own vehicles. He resumed the march forward. "I'm not letting them impound my car," he muttered.

A door slamming announced the emergence of a law enforcement officer when they got closer. He strutted at them with flashlight shining towards their eyes and another hand hovering closer to the holster on his waist. "Are you two the owners of these vehicles?"

"Yes, officer," Mike said. "Is there a problem? I wasn't aware of any restrictions on this parking lot."

The light directly in his eyes forced Mike to squint while the officer rattled off another question. "Where have you been tonight?"

"Just walking along the trail," Mike said.

"I got a call that someone was trespassing on the incline. Did your walk happen to take you in that direction?"

"No, sir," Mike lied.

The light swung to shine in Spencer's face. "Where did you go on your walk?"

As Spencer began to stutter a reply, Mike filled himself to the brim with nous and let out a powerful unstructured meme-cast. His brain-blast caused Spencer and the cop to go instantaneously slack-faced. While both of them swayed in an enforced stupor, he reached out with his corona towards the officer's car. He found the battery and pulled the wire off the negative terminal and moving it aside so that it would remain out of contact. Then he reached towards the spark plugs and began yanking off the caps one by one until the engine began to putter. Mike released his brain-blast just as the car's engine whimpered and stalled.

Because the battery had already been disconnected, the headlights went dark. All three of them looked towards the car and the police officer muttered an unprofessional curse.

"What's the matter with your car, officer?" Though he couldn't see it, Mike knew a scowl was directed at him. The feeling of power buoying his ego, he kept talking. "Want me to take a look under the hood? Or if you prefer, I can give you a lift."

The cop made a chopping motion with his arm. "Just get out of here. Park somewhere else next time."

As Mike entered his vehicle, he replaced the caps on the spark plugs with deft touches of his corona. The officer was speaking into his radio when Mike drove away with a smile on his face. So this is what it is like to be Tyler Marius, he thought. A buzzing informed him a text message had arrived. Noticing the display indicated it was from Spencer, he gave it a quick read. 'Did you break his car?!'

He tapped out a quick response. 'Not permanent.'

Another text message arrived. 'I am not going back to that parking lot.'

Mike tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and turned on the radio.