Campus life didn’t seem real. M.A.G.E supplied everyone with meal plans, healthcare, living expenses. It was its own microcosm beset by a world of debt and taxes. A haven of like-minded individuals. A commune. And like all communes there was a certain unified expectation that came with being matriculated.

One of the most alienating feelings Lyssa had ever felt was during the seminars. Sometimes people were asked to come on stage and share why they chose to be a professional hero. The reasons varied, of course; everyone had their own version of justice, of peace, but there was always a tinge of something uncomfortable behind those spiels, something unspoken. She had looked behind her shoulder during one of those speeches and saw TV cameras. They were being filmed. Of course they didn’t talk about it. The tragedy. Because she of all people would be able to recognize when a human being was harboring a deeper, more powerful motivation than hope and belief. It was the little twitches, the moment’s focus into the middle distance, the insincerity of their words that no one else could detect. The telltale mannerisms of a human lying not out of maliciousness, but because the truth was not TV friendly.

The ones who were sincere and unmotivated by tragedy? Those were obvious. Those were the ones that liked to stare at their balled fist as their speech reached some climax about friendship or righteousness. And then the next guy who came up had to come up with different material that echoed the exact same sentiment without sounding like a rerun.

The only thing people did not seem to mind repeating ad nauseum was who made them sign up. Victory. Peregrine. Giantsbane. The big three. An individual’s choice of personal hero was supposed to be common ground. It made no sense to Lyssa. No one could force her to pick anyone to idolize. Least of all a hero like Victory.

She tiredly walked back to her dorm. Her soul searching session with Lian had left her quite drained. Maybe that was why she was filled with cynical thoughts at the moment. She opened to door to see her two roommates conversing with a third familiar face.

“Carrie?” Lyssa said.

“Hi, welcome back!” Carrie said as she stood to give Lyssa a hug.

“How did you…?” Lyssa began.

“I’m the fourth roommate in this unit,” Carrie said.

“Huh. Why did your move take so long?”

“I pulled some strings so I could room with someone I knew.”

Carrie had no shortage of female friends when Lyssa had known her. Did none of them make it into M.A.G.E? Lyssa did not press the question. She smiled.

“Well alright then,” she said. “That’s great.”

“We now have a fourth for Catan,” Penny said excitedly. “Come on Lyssa, pull up a chair.”

“I-”

“No you don’t have homework. It’s week one.”

“Okay.”

“Well do not force her if she does not want to,” Amelia said.

Penny was not paused.

“And every time you lose resources to a robber you have to also take off an article of clothing.”

“What?” Lyssa frowned.

“I’m down,” Carrie said.

“No,” Amelia said.

Penny made mocking face.

“Oh Amelia, ever so proper.”

“No! You know how hard it is to take clothes off with my physical form.” She gestured with four hands at the complex system of zippers her clothes had to accommodate her arms and wings.

Alcohol became the compromise. A shot every time the little stone statue stole from them. There are other rules too at Penny’s behest. Such as personal favors as an acceptable currency in trades. Cards were tossed. Accusations were thrown. A neighbor came by to complain about the noise, twice. Before she knew it, Lyssa’s face was sore from smiling. The game stayed with her like a warm buzz, drink aside. And she felt a strange kind of sadness when a winner was finally declared. She would not have minded if it kept going for a while longer. But it was 10 p.m., which was usually when she would have started to get ready for bed.

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“Where are you going?” Penny said, slurring a syllable here and there. “We’re headed out.”

“Oh. Where are we going?”

“I dunno.”

Lyssa forgot her usual inhibitions. She went with them. Amelia walked with Penny to make sure she did not run into a mailbox or a street lamp. Pedestrians gave them a disapproving look and as wide of a berth as they could in the populous streets of New Langshir.

Carrie stayed by her side, her eyes lowered, always searching. Lyssa broke the silence.

“Why did you transfer to my room?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Carrie said. “I thought you would be alone. But you’ve somehow found a couple of delightful people to look after you.”

“We were barely friends in high school. Why do you care about me?”

“Do you know why I wanted to become a hero?” Carrie looked Lyssa in the eye, with as serious of an expression as she could muster behind hours of drinking.

“Why?”

“Because I think being aware of a problem while doing nothing makes you culpable. I could have helped you more. I chose not to, because I was a teenager who cared more about my own image. Hell we’re barely not a teenager now, aren’t we?”

“I suppose.” Lyssa gave a reassuring smile. “You know I don’t blame you for how others treated me. You shouldn’t leave your friends just to be my roommate.”

“Not many people I knew signed up to M.A.G.E. Guess I never saw how little I had in common with them.”

Amelia turned her head over.

“Penny would like to know if you two would like to visit a pub,” she asked.

“Sometimes I wonder if it was the best idea to move the legal drinking age to eighteen,” Carrie said quietly.

“If you can find her we might know which one,” Lyssa answered. Penny had slinked over to an alleyway. They could see her bent over. Clearly there was something fascinating on the ground.

“I think that game was just an excuse to drink,” Carrie said as she watched Amelia try to make Penny presentable before a passerby noticed the state she was in.

“It was fun,” Lyssa said. “That was nice.”

“…Yeah. Yes it was.”

Lyssa felt her pupils shrink fast enough to hurt. Air like a hot thumb thrust into her ears, leaving behind a shrill ringing. Hands were grabbing her shoulders, pulling her back up; she had been knocked over.

A shockwave. It took her seconds to realize an explosion had thrown her onto the sidewalk. An office building on the opposite street had spewed out a ball of fire. Smoke trailed into the air. She saw people on the other side of the street stumbling away. Some had blood crawling down their face.

Her hearing slowly returned.

“What do we do?” Lyssa asked Carrie.

“I…uhm… the citizen’s arrest section of the CEOR needs an identifiable perpetrator.”

“Well people could be in the building,” Amelia said. She laid Penny on a nearby bench. “Stay here. Penny’s gift isn’t useful against fire.”

“Mine is,” Carrie said. She took a deep breath. Lyssa felt her lips dry as the moisture in the air was condensed. A stream of it snaked out of the storm drains, gathering in one growing sphere.

She would not get to use her water. The fire winked out of existence in a sudden gust of air. A figure climbed out of the hole in the building, small dust devils following in their wake. They glanced in their direction, scoffed, then took to the air.

“Huh.” Carrie returned the water back where it came from.

“I’m going to check the situation from the sky until EMS gets here,” Amelia said. “Take care of Penny.” Her wings unfolded, launching her into the sky. A parked car nearby wobbled from the force.

There was nothing else to do but to sit and make sure Penny didn’t spew on her clothes. They sat on the same bench.

“I’m glad that sorted itself out,” Carrie said, rubbing Penny’s back.

“That was a vigilante,” Lyssa said. “A CEOR dissident. They just went in and fixed it.”

“Which is illegal,” Carrie said. “That’s why all of them wear hoods and baggy clothes.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about what? You can’t seriously think we should’ve just rushed in there.”

“What if they’re not wrong?”

“Wrong about what? Breaking the law?”

“You know what I mean. The law doesn’t always mean what’s right.” It hurt to say. Lyssa felt as though she was betraying a part of herself. “It just seems wrong that sometimes being accountable is doing nothing.”

“You don’t do nothing. ‘A student enrolled in a certified hero academy may perform a citizen’s arrest using the full range of their gifts towards the effect of a sub-lethal restraint.’”

“I know that,” She sighed. “It’s hard. To do something. To do nothing. To know which to choose.”

“What if you rush in and make a mistake? The academy wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

The sirens were coming. Red and blue lights spun as a complement of response vehicles came. Everest came as well, hovering in the air with his jet pack. Lyssa could hear him call out.

“You may rest now, young lady! Thank you!”

A rush of air ruffled Lyssa’s hair as Amelia landed behind their bench.

“Took them long enough,” she said. “What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing important,” Lyssa said. She nudged Penny with her shoulder. Penny fell into Carrie’s arms, unperturbed from her sleep. “Let’s skip the bar hopping and get Penny home.”

The night had been cut short. But Lyssa had had a good enough time. She did not want to ruin it with debate and hero discourse. So she kept the counter question to herself.

What if you followed all the rules and still made a mistake? A hero could be cleared of malpractice if an investigation revealed they followed the law. Failing to protect—the right way—meant being given protection. It felt wrong in a way she could not explain. The idea followed Lyssa that night into her dreams, indelible, irreconcilable.