Madrono City was the second settlement on Izanami. Founded when Saint Century had begun to get overcrowded, Madrono was heralded as a second coming. Designed to surpass Saint Century in every way, it instead dealt with drugs, crime, and corruption. The drug known as O-Zone actually originated on those very streets and OverHuman gang wars were nightly occurrences. The population disparity between OH's and normal humans was so high that there had been a pair of OH serial killers that had run amok across the city ultimately resulting in its destabilization. The turning point occurred when a member of the previous parliament of Izanami was found murdered within city limits. The government acted swiftly and martial law was declared as the killer, or killers, were hunted down. Criminal elements within the city handicapped any manhunts and, as such, it was decreed that Madrono City was now a "No Man's Land" and considered beyond saving due to its large OverHuman population—the majority of which had been declared enemies of the state. All bridges and roads leading out of town were blown up and barricaded. Watchtowers were placed along the coastline and Madrono had become the first maximum-security OH prison. Any OH that has been caught committing a crime is sent there after a trial; no one has ever escaped. They say the oldest OH in recorded history still resides there, buried deep in the bowels of the city; The Monster of Mad City.

-excerpt from Mad City: how hope became a literal prison by Seth Moxley.

Corina Kyle stood sipping wine while being surrounded by endless sycophants. She was hosting a fundraiser, designed to raise awareness for disadvantaged children currently living in the slums and her heart just wasn't into it tonight. Her thoughts were on that meeting with Roxanne and Central One. Knowing that infection, or whatever it was, was out there right now had made her paranoid.

Everywhere she looked, the back of her mind wondered if those people would explode into black ooze or not. What a treat that would be, she mused quietly, seeing all these elite muckity-mucks tearing each other apart. Corina chastised herself for such crassness. She asked herself if she was feeling this way because of how young Roxanne was. Sure, that girl put out some airs about her, and a lot of it was just for show, but she was just a kid. Trusting her with the safety of the species was a big ask. Still, Corina Kyle didn’t need a reason to be snarky; she hated these black-tie affairs and anything to distract from that was welcome.

Even if the distraction was potentially an extinction-level event.

Corina was wearing a tight black dress that went down to just above her ankles. There was a slit cut in the middle to show off one of her legs while the rest of the outfit was held up by a single strap around her neck and tape—a good amount of tape. Being so tall and muscular she had a wide frame, which forced Corina to have all her clothes custom made for her, formal wear especially. If she had her druthers, she'd be happy to show up in a more business-like suit as opposed to this; her people told her that doesn't play with these sorts of people.

Corina thought that was stupid, and if all it took was dressing down to get rid of most of these vultures she would have done that a long time ago. No, this was her life basically; like it or not. The crowd around her had given up on faking they cared about what the entire gala had been about, they crowded around her.

They were like drones, mindlessly pattering on about whatever affected them that day, month, or even year. Some dared to talk to her about problems they thought she could personally solve. No matter what Corina Kyle had done or said, most of the elite of Saint Century saw her as little more than a personal heavy they could call on to solve some dirty work. It also never mattered how many times she would turn such things down, whether politely or impolitely because they always kept hinting.

The group gathered in front of her to talk about this local menace they all dealt with as if being annoying, or not of the same class, was reason enough to label someone a 'villain'. Corina thought it was almost comical if they weren't so earnest. How people like this even survived was always a fascinating mystery. Most of them don't even decide what to eat for themselves, it was a wonder they knew how to breathe.

Corina peered above their heads searching for some kind of lifeline, only to make eye contact with the last person she ever wanted to talk to, Justice Jones. Jones was a blowhard political pundit who loved to trade on his OverHuman status to wag his finger at society as a whole but he saved the majority of his ire for his fellow brethren. He started as a rival for her brother, a big meathead with lots of strength who traded on ancient iconography in place of a personality. Ever since Michael died, he rode on a wave of respectability thanks to a decent eulogy straight into a gig speaking his mind about stuff he literally knew nothing about.

He fit right in, that only made her despise him even more. He was fully kitted up, dressed like his old self; a blue jacket with an asymmetrical zipper and a white star painted on his shoulders. The stars were within blue circles connected by parallel red and white stripes that went across his chest. He was such a rip-off of her brother it sometimes made her physically ill. He was always pandering and using old symbols too; an old system that crashed and burned centuries ago.

A small minority of humanity worshiped it under the guise of “heritage”. Corina just thought they were using it as a mask for bigotry, and Jones was exactly the kind of useful idiot they all loved.

"Corina," he said as he approached, munching inelegantly on some finger foods and spitting as he talked.

"Jones," she replied coolly, trying to hide her usual disgust. And failing.

"You know, I've got a lot of numbers saying that the people out there want people like us to team up."

"Team-up?"

"Yeah, like a group of some kind. You, me, that Spydalow person; I’m sure we can find a few others," he replied. "All of us who are visible and got our names out there, so to speak, need to be public faces for the masses.”

“I think I’ve got that covered,” she replied, sipping on her drink.

“Well, we'd make a pretty powerful lobby if anything!"

"Uh-huh."

Corina took this moment to just stare right through Jones, hoping that maybe he would just go away if she acted like he wasn't there. He coughed and said, "Your people tell you the same thing, surely?"

"Actually," she grinned. "My people know better than to bother me with that."

"PIG!"

The voice arrived at the same time as the drink. It hit Corina square in the jaw which caused the glass to shatter and the fluid, wine, to drench her. She was stunned; the person who threw the drink was already being subdued by security. She was a petite woman—a member of the wait staff—with short curly black hair that was at that moment being pulled as she was shoved into the ground.

Others gathered around Corina to gawk and make comments but she had blocked it all out. All she could hear—all she wanted to hear—were the guttural screams of the woman who continued to spit venom in her direction despite the three burly guards trying to pacify her.

"SELL-OUT!"

"FASCIST!"

"STOOGE!"

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Those resonated but there were certainly more colorful epithets. Corina stood watching the entire thing unfold, she ignored any offered towels and just let the dark liquid drip down her face and pool upon her dress. Eventually, the woman was dragged away, and the majority of the guests resumed their old conversations.

Corina turned to Jones, who wore a specific type of shit-eating grin that almost caused her to pop him in the mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get cleaned up," she said before turning on her heels to leave the ballroom.

As she made her way through the guests, she spotted Alex off to the side trying to chat up a different server. Alex had never met a woman he didn't want to flirt with, including her; Corina respected it; no one else had the muster to even try. She caught his attention and he nearly choked on the little cocktail weenie he had been nursing. Alex met her near a pair of double doors that led to the kitchen and all the servers and cooks working tonight.

"What's up?" He asked.

She looked back out to the crowd one more time before saying, "That girl, the one who threw the drink?"

"Yeah?"

"She doesn't need to spend any time in jail for that," she replied. "Make sure she doesn't."

He nodded and said "On it.", before walking off. Corina passed through the double doors herself and into the kitchen. Men and women in white coats hustled around open flames and shouted orders at one another while others clad in all-black uniforms yelled for their orders or fought over tickets. They were all so busy no one paid her any mind, just how she liked it.

She was feeling sticky as she made her way past the main cooking stations and found the lift doorway nestled in the back wall marked 'Private' in big bold red letters. She approached the door and her eyes were immediately scanned; with a chime, the door slid open and she walked inside. The lift only had a single destination so it moved as soon as she was safely inside.

The wine had dried and Corina clucked her teeth while she looked down at the stain. Silently, Corina willed the thing to move faster but, considering how fast it moved regardless, it was already there by the time she finished the thought. As she stepped off she told the penthouse AI, "Have a fresh set of clothes brought to my study please."

Formal or Casual? Corina considered for a moment; she’d had enough party for one night.

"Casual, please," she replied and walked over to the window. She loved nights like this in this room; dual moonlight poured in from the outside and bathed that portion of the room in a soft white glow. Being so high up allowed her to avoid the typical light pollution the city gave off and just enjoy the night sky. She debated stripping down and just plopping down on the couch next to the screen but figured she could wait the few moments it took a robot to scrounge up pants and a shirt.

She held her arms close to her, suddenly becoming aware of just how cold it was in here. Bumps raised on her skin like busted asphalt, she figured it was because of the wet clothes and just continued to stare out into the city.

She was wrong.

"Youyouyou honhonhonorederedered herherher, whywhywhy?" The voice came from behind her; deep and familiar enough to feel like it personally took a stroll down her spine. Corina spun around. A figure sat at her desk completely covered in shadow and she couldn't make it out.

"Lights," she breathed; nothing happened. The room remained drenched in shadow.

"Youyouyou didn’tdidn’tdidn't knowknowknow herherher, yetyetyet youyouyou honhonhonorederedered herherher," the figure said. "Whywhywhy?"

"You've got five seconds to explain yourself," she threatened. From behind the desk, the figure jerked upright and stood; even in the darkness, she could tell it moved like it was unsure of itself.

“Sorrysorrysorry," it said. "Surelyssurelysurely youyouyou recognizenizenize mymymyy facefaceface ififif notnotnot mymymy voicevoicevoice...?"

With that, it stepped into the moonlight. The face appeared pained and was covered in black veins that strained across its skin. He was dressed in a simple black three-piece suit; white shirt, black tie, and black shoes to match. Over that was a black long coat with red inner trim. After a moment she recognized the face but found this incongruous with what her senses were screaming at her.

"You're Gibson's kid," she told him.

Wes grinned, the pained sort of grin that made Corina wince internally. "Moremoremore ororor lesslessless," he said, the echo ricocheting off her skull. It was the same voice from 5 years ago too, she was sure now.

“You’re also the Nameless.”

“Yesyesyes.”

Corina didn't hesitate; in less time than it took for most people to blink she had already charged forward to subdue it. She placed hands upon both of his shoulders and he stood there quietly; the rictus grin never-ending. Briefly, she thought about how this was easier than she had expected but she instantly regretted it. The physical body faded away from her grip, melting completely into the shadows and leaving a featureless figure in its wake. Pulsating black cables hung loosely from the body and led directly into the shadows like umbilical cords. A living void was now in her hands and it morphed its ersatz shoulders to encase her hands within itself.

Corina attempted to heave herself free but couldn't. Undeterred, she tried again because nothing in the verse could hold her against her will. The floor underneath her cracked as she exerted, yet she failed again. Fifty eyes on the void’s face opened at once and blinked at odd intervals.

From the ether came a voice, "Sorrysorrysorry, werewerewere wewewe supposedposedposed tototo fightfightfight?" A small tiny tendril leaked out from the void and climbed up Corina's arm; followed by another; and another. Corina gritted through panicked teeth, planted her feet, and tried again to pull herself free. Once more the floor buckled—she was sinking in now—still, it held. More oil snaked out from the emptiness, it hit right at her chest and then flowered out from there, spilling across her body until she was covered in total.

"Wewewe cancancan findfindfind aaa betterbetterbetter replacementmentment."

***

Roxanne's eyes fluttered open, she was in the white room again. She sat up quickly and checked herself over, she was wearing her street clothes; Have I been fired already? As she stood she reflexively dusted herself off and she immediately felt absurd. She called out, "Hello?"

Light swirled in a spot in front of her before Azonne winked into existence, they stood there with their hands on their hips. Roxanne stepped back, for a construct it sure had a lot of attitude. Not here too, she thought. I can’t get lectured here too.

"What's the deal?" She asked. "Why am I here and not awake?" Azonne stayed silent, it felt like it dragged forever; with how time worked in this place Roxanne couldn't be sure if it was for a second or five minutes.

"What are we doing?" Azonne finally answered with a question of their own.

"I don’t understand."

"You were beaten because you continue to hesitate,” Azonne told her. Roxanne breathed inward heavily in response, enough was enough.

“No, I was beaten because you distracted me and doubted me! I had it, I know I did!” Silence drifted between them. Azonne took a step back, folded their arms, and closed their eyes. Roxanne took a deep breath herself. She was taking this too personally and letting past traumas dictate her present mood. Both came to the same realization; none of this was helping.

"This doesn't work if we are at odds, Roxanne."

"Yeah, I get that," she nodded. “Look, you believe in me right? That’s why you chose me.”

“I didn’t choose you, Roxanne, the Balance did.”

“And you believe in the Balance, I need you to believe in me too. I know I can do this.”

"Tell me," Azonne said.

She looked at her hands, "I felt it back there. It was-it was like having a word on the tip of my tongue; I felt so close. You doubting me while it happened just completely threw me off, ya know? Like, I get it—I really do, but it's only impossible because you’ve accepted that it is.

“I can do it Azonne, but I need you to believe in me. You have to let me try, like really try," Roxanne was pleading as she said this. “Look,” she folded her arms, “I’m just sick of hearing that everything is how it is and that’s it. I never advocate for myself; I am now.”

Roxanne stood pat and waited for a response. Azonne studied her. Once upon a time, she didn’t feel supported. No ring bearer should ever have to feel that way again. The decision was easy.

"Then let's try," they said.

Roxanne did a little celebratory dance. She slapped her fist into her open palm and said, “Wake me up, Azonne; let’s do this."

Azonne pointed at her and Roxanne lit up a beautifully bright white as her uniform appeared on her once again. Energy pulsated out from her and blinded her momentarily before exploding outward in a massive flash. Roxanne blinked and found herself back in the Gibson penthouse. She stood in the center of a scorched little crater while emaciated pools of black sludge cooked and evaporated around her. This time when Roxanne dusted herself, debris came off.

"We need to find where Wes is right now," she said once done.

Agreed.

Roxanne paused to consider something, "I suppose I could be using the Sight, right?"

Indeed. But I don't believe you'll have to.

"How come?"

I'm getting reports of Lady Steel attacking civilians.