6

The park was quiet at this time of night. Too far from bottle depots for the homeless and checked too often by police, it was empty when they arrived.

I laid Armsmaster on one park bench while taking the next one for myself. Oni Lee stood as always. The bike parked as close as it dared to its rider.

A few minutes later, I heard a vehicle park nearby. I heard the faint cursing of Chinese as he tried both to hurry and also to be careful with what he carried.

"Lee, what is his name again? The one fetching the box for me?"

"Jin."

"Ah, thank you."

Jin came around the bend, power-walking and puffing as he carried the gray plastic box towards me.

"You made excellent time Jin," I said, as I took the box from him and placed it behind the bench.

He stood at attention, his pride obvious. "Thank you, sir. Can I do anything else?"

"Yes. Return to the vehicle and wait. Do not attempt to intervene with what happens tonight."

He nodded at this. "If things go wrong, should I try to get this box back?"

I blinked. A good point. "If things go wrong..." I tapped at my chin in thought before nodding. "Yes. I will try to lead them away from it. Retrieve it if you can. Now go."

He left, and I began preparations. Instructions were given to Oni Lee, and I carefully, carefully pulled the items out of the box.

---===---​

I heard the van approach. Clever, using the groundskeeper's route so they could drive the vehicle directly in.

"Lee, shift the items so they face the left."

He obeyed while I prepared the remnants of the shuki. The tokkuri was broken long ago.

I was blending traditions, rather, I was mangling them; this wasn't a tiny cramped tea hut in which we'd talk, and she isn't Japanese, but, I had to have this as far from what she was expecting as possible. It was the only way I saw this night ending the way it must.

And so, I watched the reinforced PRT van come to a near stop twenty feet away and turn to the side. Was she intending to use the van as cover, or was she preparing to turn the vehicle around when she was done?

The lights were dim in this part of the park, and the two torches I had carefully placed behind me on both sides ignited with a twitch of my ears.

And yes, voice inside me, I did practice setting things on fire with my ears. When you get stuck in a pit for weeks on end, you'd be amazed on what you practice to pass the time.

The extra light revealed the colors of this country draped around the driver's face.

Red white and blue.

Miss Militia.

She got out of the van and stopped by the front tire, keeping the engine block between her and me. In her arms an AK-47, her eyes wary.

I had to fight the urge to smile behind my mask at her. She might hear it in my voice.

"So you've come, as agreed." I kept the accent going strong.

She nodded, then looked at the crumpled man on my right. And then at his arm laying next to him and the remains of his halberd.

An eyebrow was raised.

"He started it." Why was I feeling sheepish? I covered it up with a shrug. "He really should have known better."

Something was wrong here, that's why my instincts are telling me. But what? She was here, alone, as agreed. I saw no heat of another person in the van. A machine? A trap?

No, it was something else, something obvious, and it was galling me that I hadn't spotted it yet.

"Come, and we shall bargain for his life." I turned and fetched an earthenware jug from the gray box. The seal was still on it. Suginoya Sake, one of few remaining bottles in my possession. I delicately tore the seal and opened the bottle for a smell.

Oh, hush you, let me savor this.

I lifted the jug and placed the square masu next to me, directly in her field of view. I rushed nothing, getting more time to think, and placed my sakazuki in first. Then I poured, slowly, letting it overflow the cup just slightly. I doubt she'd understand the ritual, but still, it helped me.

Then I brought the small cup to my lips and drank, showing her that there was nothing amiss with it.

Still she did not move. Interesting.

As I carefully placed my cup down it hit me: Why was she still using an AK? It's not like it'd hurt me, and it would be far too awkward to face Oni Lee with it, so why...

The wind changed course and then I understood.

[Cordite!]

Oh.

Oh.

I'll admit that, since I've never personally met her, I didn't know her smell yet. And this one, she smelled of many interesting things.

Cordite, gun oil, things I've smelled a thousand times around a firearm. Many of my men reek of these things.

I remembered holding her weapon when it was a bowie knife. It was alive, a part of her.

And it didn't smell, no matter what form it took. Nor did it leave any residue on her.

This was not Miss Militia. This was a woman with a painted AK-47.

---===---​

So where was real one? I mused on this as I prepared her imposter a cup. Nice and slow.

Now, I'd chosen this park because it was a nightmare to actually snipe. The lack of tall buildings, the excess of trees, the hills that cut the traffic noise obscuring clear lines. It was a boon for the drug peddlers and the whores in the warm summer months.

Her drink was ready, and I carefully stowed the bottle away, buying more time.

What would she use? Certainly nothing that might risk Armsmaster. Flamethrowers, grenade launchers, and nuclear weapons were out at this range.

[Fusion!]

Wait, she can do that?

Neat. And scary. Never taken a nuke before.

[Doable.]

And why hadn't she attacked?

Plenty of ways to hit me without hitting him. Unless...

He's in the way.

I gestured at the bike which had taken up a flanking position. "Taking the bike as well in that van? Very well." And looked at the van.

You could fit a lot of gun in that van.

You could seal it and keep me from smelling or hearing anything inside of it.

Could you cool it?

"Lee, disarm. Place them on this bench where she can see."

He didn't hesitate. Knives, grenades both fragmentary and incendiary, the revolver, the smoke bombs, the ice-picks, and so much more. The fake Militia's eyes grew wider and wider as more and more weapons entered the pile. It was always interesting to see just how much he could hide amongst his person.

Finally, he was done. Now forty pounds lighter, he looked at me for guidance.

"Take this," I lifted the cup I'd prepared. "And give it to her so we can proceed."

Now, there's no way I can whisper orders the way that I am, I'd tried, and subtlety does not a minimum Brute 4 be.

But I could disguise it. I looked at the imposter and said in as friendly Japanese as I could manage. {Van, do not kill.}

And Lee, bless his heart, still remembered the routine.

---===---​

A lot can happen in the six seconds it takes my friend to turn to ash.

Oni Lee's heels snapped together audibly, signalling to me that he had already teleported and that a clone was in front of me. Swivelling, he bowed to the imposter, as formally as he would his own mother (if he knew who she was), and then to me.

I still remember how annoyed he looked as we practiced this. Though to be fair my instructions were a bit lacking.

<"Be more Asian damnit?!?" You actually said that?>

His hands swept up and out, like he was preparing to play a grand piano, then curled into an almost prayer-like motion.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the reinforced van quietly shaking. Excellent shocks on it, I must say.

By this point, the bike had finished translating what I'd said and swiveled towards the van in what I could only describe as alarm. It didn't honk, a shame, I wondered what Armsmaster would use for a horn.

His hands almost touched the cup before he collapsed into ash. My other hand was over it though, so no bits of Lee would get into this cup.

I tossed the sake back like a shot and watched.

The imposter was starting to panic now, and was trying to both use her comm and bring the weapon to bear, and was failing with both. Then she saw the van moving.

And it was moving, and there was muted swearing -which had to be rather loud shouts- as Miss Militia, the real one, found out just how many knees and elbows Oni Lee can bring to a brawl.

And since the imposter wasn't looking at me, which is a dire mistake as I am far, far more deadly than Lee, I put down the cup carefully, and cleared my throat.

"Excuse me, 'Miss Militia', you might want to change that weapon to something of higher caliber." Thankfully the rumble I could put into my voice didn't convey sarcasm very well, it'd be a poor sign of a host. "That won't do anything to me but itch."

Her eyes, wild and full of panic, snapped to me and then down at her gun. Then back to me. I let my eyes glow a little, a trick I found worked well with panicked people. She didn't look away, even when the back of the van opened and Miss Militia -the real one- fell out, with three Lee's jabbing her with tasers.

And then there was a Lee behind the imposter as well, taser crackling.

---===---​

While it sounds like I did nothing but stand there and drink, I was in fact keeping the most dangerous person present from doing anything, and I wasn't talking about Armsmaster, even though he was awake. This close, I could hear the shift in his breathing, his heart rate. But he was out of the fight and knew it.

"This night perplexes me." I said aloud, seemingly to no one, though we both knew better. Lee had placed the disarmed imposter back in the van, gagged and tied carefully, and had turned to the real Miss Militia. While he dragged her over I had placed the items we would need on the ground. I think these items were what was keeping them from attacking, as much as who I was.

"Does it perplex you, Dragon?"

Armsmaster couldn't help but twitch. The motorcycle tried very hard to look like a motorcycle.

Miss Militia groaned as she found her knees meeting a pillow. Oni Lee started wrestling her shaking body into a sagging cross-legged sitting arrangement. He was good at it still.

Later, when this is over.

"You see, I know you weren't there initially. The bike attacked me, yes, but like a weapons platform and not like you did against my men."

I placed my own pillow down and started assembling the little wooden folding table in my hands.

"I confirmed it when you stopped when Oni Lee waved at you." I gestured to Lee and he walked over to start putting all the weaponry he carried back on his person. It'd take a while, but I wasn't worried. Especially with two heroes now helpless and extremely burnable.

"But you weren't there beforehand, which means he didn't tell you," My finger pointed at the broken hero. "Which means you found a way to sneak monitoring code that would warn you when he got seriously injured."

Armsmaster tried to raise his head to glare at somebody, either at me or at his bike, and failed. Broken collarbones don't help with that. He grunted sourly, and I was rewarded with the bike flinching as if it-she- were struck. Or hit a speedbump.

"Then you had to break into his bike and take control of it." Armsmaster's grumblings were overshadowed by my amused snort. "How scandarous." I happily mangled the word. "Letting another man ride you, what would your father say?"

The bike's headlights, which could swivel to keep light on things during high speed maneuvers, focused on me, dimmed slightly, and shifted from white to yellow.

Individual LED's started turning off, first putting a small hexagonal ring of seven dots in the middle off, giving each light a pupil, then trimming the round lights the illusion of eyebrows. Angry ones. The bike blinked, as the battered speaker on the bike hissed and crackled slightly, before a voice known the world round from cartoons and a multitude of public broadcasts came forth.

"I wouldn't know, they haven't dredged up his body yet."

I smiled, though the mask didn't let it show. I'd have to work on that, especially if I was going to talk to people more.

"Nor mine, but don't let that stop you."

Indeed you do. Now quiet.

"In any event, as soon as I realized you were present, I reasoned that a simple threat would make you stop. At that point you must have retreated, heard my phone call to her," I pointed to the slowly recovering Miss Militia, "and then concocted... this plan."

I glowered at the bike, letting my displeasure show, and the mask really did help there. "What on earth made you think this," I gestured to the downed parahumans, "was going to accomplish anything?"

The bike was silent for a moment, before it whispered a response.

"You were telling the truth on the phone."

Ah, fear. I knew that tone better than any other, even if it came from a bike.

I nodded for her to continue and it was like a dam within her had broken.

"After I left the bike I went to get reinforcements, but it was late and I found the call you made." Her voice was slowly picking up speed. "I ran your conversation through the lie-detector and you were telling the truth about the trade and of killing him if anyone tried anything." I nodded again, but she kept going without pausing to breathe. "I tried to contact Strider and the other Movers but they wanted cash in advance after that escapade in Quebec, and the banks I had locally would transfer the money with an hour's delay and with almost all the PRT Heroes on the east coast either sleeping or unable to teleport the distance I couldn't rely on them and the Simurgh had swatted down my last laser satellite and I couldn't get enough solid booster fuel to aim one over Brockton Bay in the time I had, so I had to contact Miss Militia and see about coordinating the whole thing while I gave her real-time information about you and then you had that box and I didn't know what was inside it-"

Later, but keep a note on that.

"In short," I cut her off, as someone was going to notice she hadn't taken a breath once throughout that. "You panicked. You panicked and you didn't trust Miss Militia, a fellow hero, despite the truth in my voice."

She froze, then the eye-headlights dimmed. "Yes."

"A good lesson you have learned then."

"Have two laser satellites next time?" She joked, or at least I hoped she was joking.

"How?" came a pained whisper.

I looked down at Armsmaster. "Yes?"

His head struggled to look up at me, but only got midway. "How did you know my name?"

---===---​

I sat back and said nothing. Nothing out loud that is.

But on the inside I was seething.

And that, is why you do not gloat unless you are holding his severed head in your claws. Villain 101!

You were, and you are now.

I reached for the bottle and poured another cup. It was tempting, but I didn't fill the entire masu and slam it back.

"I could," I began carefully, looking at the little cup and lamenting the fact that I'd probably never get another cherry blossom to land in it. "give you the same explanation I give my men. I could say that the 'How' is your problem and the 'Why' is 'Because I am Lung', but I won't."

I sipped again, then looked at him. "Instead I will answer your question with another question, and hope you will learn."

I looked at each in turn, swivelling slightly in place as I did. Satisfied that all eyes were on me, even if Armsmasters couldn't raise that high, I began.

"Why," I drew it out slightly, "does Arexandlia," I had practiced that mangled name for simply ages, "Have a tower on her chest?"

They weren't expecting that.

"She is named for a library. A burnt one admittedly which amuses me to no end, and yet, when people see her, think of her, they think 'flying brick'. And so, she puts the tower there, where she knows everyone is looking, to remind them."

I raised my voice to as high a falsetto pitch as I could, which was slightly below Armsmaster's normal speaking voice. "I got brains too y'know!"

"You have a Thinker power?!" That was a poor time to shriek Armsmaster, I think I heard a rib poke something important.

"How do two capes keep all those little gang fragments together, when they should be vanishing like sand from a clenched fist?" I asked the air instead of answering him.

"How do I avoid all those pesky snipers, all those enemy capes, the PRT, and still manage to be an omnipresent force?"

"How did I know your name Colin?" They all flinched at the name, the violation of secrecy, and at the harshness of my voice. There was no fire yet, but I could feel the scales itch inside.

"Because I am Lung, and the bigger I get, the smarter I get." My lips twitched and I had to resist the urge to add 'you wouldn't like me when I'm smart.'

"You wouldn't believe what I know."

I knew his visor was pinging Truth at that.

---===---​

"I shall be brief, as I think I heard your spleen rupture." Eyes left me to look down at him. At how pale he was. "When I fought Leviathan in Kyushu, I was quite likely the most intelligent being on this world. And there was plenty of time to think while we fought. Thus I have made plans, many plans. Plans that are mine, alone, to know."

"And because of your hunger, your starvation," he flinched at that, "your life is now being bartered. Originally, I was going to ask two things of Hannah," Hearing your name out loud like that always makes capes uneasy, and she was no exception. "But since I can't have you dying while I bargain with her, I will adjust the deal."

Hush.

"I will take one favor from Dragon, now, and she can take you to the hospital. Then I shall speak with Hannah, sorry, Miss Militia, for the remaining one."

He said nothing, but he was paying attention.

"And, this is for the lie detector I know you have built in there." I carefully raised his head up to look at me, ignoring how the bones in his neck and shoulders ground together loud enough for even Miss Militia to hear. "I will not harm her in any way unless she attacks first. This I swear."

I let his head fall slowly and turned to Dragon. "Agreed?"

The bike looked at me carefully. "What do you want?"

---===---​

What do I want from Dragon? So many choices...

A bike, stylized off of one of the Kamen Riders?

A giant metal duplicate, a MechaLung?

A 'Zord' of some sort, that I could pilot and punch Behemoth in the face with, with rocket fists in case I had to deal with the Simurgh?

Pah, tempting as they all were, I needed something more. And I had to start with something painful.

"Your price will be precious to you. I will take a sliver of joy from your life."

The bike blinked.

"I know who you really are, and who your father was." I paused so I could word this next part carefully. "I know that he never gave you a name, a real one, so busy was he."

All attention was on me, as it should.

"I know that you are, at best, no older than thirteen at this point." Sentience was such a bitch to pin down to a date.

I also ignored the 'urk' that Armsmaster uttered.

"And so I shall name you, one dragon to another."

"Western Dragons, like Smaug, sleep on treasure, burn cities, and often kidnap virgins."

Wait... had I even read that book? Pah...

"You do none of these things, unless Armsmaster wants to tell me something." I said as teasingly as I could with my voice.

It took the man in question a few seconds to get it, but he answered as he should. He gave me the finger, which is quite impressive considering how twisted his one remaining arm was.

"No." I said seriously, and I was quite good at that tone. "I shall name you for what you are."

Chinese dragons have only a burning pearl.

"You are the coiled dragon that has not ascended to heaven." I stated gravely. "You are the lake dragon that drifts onto the fields of land, immaterial and without form, who leaves only the morning dew as proof she ever existed at all."

"I name you 蟠龍."

And with that, I turned to Lee, gesturing to the van. "Untie the imposter."

I carefully lifted the broken man into the back of the van, then went back for the arm. "Don't bother calling for Panacea, she will most likely be already at the hospital if you check."

"How did you-"

"Goodbye Panlong." I looked down at the bike. "We will speak again."

---===---​

I waited until the van had left before returning to the matter at hand.

The park was empty save Lee, Miss Militia, and myself.

Two pillows, a little table, some sake, two still burning torches.

And two generals, each on opposing sides of a great and dreadful battlefield.

I didn't know the method the Kurds used, but I hoped she knew at least vaguely what I was trying to do here.

I knelt carefully on my pillow, reached over to pour the two cups and winced at what I saw.

"Your boots." I said carefully. "Could you please take them off?"

"Afraid I'll dirty your pillow?" She teased.

"Yes." I nodded gravely. "That is -was- my mother's pillow."

She flinched and got up carefully, and undid her boots. "Apologies I-"

"Didn't know." I finished for her. "The fault is mine."

Boots off, she looked down, debating on kneeling like I was.

"It's hard on your knees." I told her. "Sit as you wish."

She gently sat down cross-legged once more and reached for her cup.

"To what are we drinking to?" She asked.

"Memories," I answered.

"To memories then."

We drank, her using her power to make a small buckler appear to cover her face. She grimaced slightly at the bitterness of the sake.

"It is an acquired taste, one I doubt you'll be able to get." I shrugged ignoring the complaints within me. "Considering Leviathan threw me into the brewery that it was made in, before the land mass sank."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Don't be." I retorted. "You didn't sink it."

I poured us both some more.

"Now Hannah I-" Ah, she was flinching again. I needed this to be more equal.

I looked over at Lee. "Lee, do you mind?"

He thought for a moment, a long moment, then shrugged.

"Thank you."

I turned to Hannah, Miss Militia, and reached for my mask.

"So that we are all on a first-name basis." I removed it. "My name is Kenta."

Lee reached for his mask. "I am Lee."

"Fun fact," I said with a small smile. "He used to be 'L-I' Li, but changed it to Lee because of a famous actor."

Sadly, Lee didn't flinch, flush, or even seem to care. His gaze returned to his watch.

Her fingers crept to her own mask and gently pulled it down.

"Thank you." she whispered.

"After what I have to say, I doubt you will feel that way." my voice was dire. "In fact I-"

"Five minutes." Lee was not one for subtlety when he was on timekeeping duty.

I sighed, which I know sounded like steam escaping a small train.

"Thank you, Lee. Start packing up at the two-minute mark." I looked over at the one across the little table. "I suspect I sleep nearly as little as you do." I grumped. "And yet there never seems to be enough minutes in the day."

"Something important?" she asked politely.

"Yes." I nodded. "Dreadfully important. Mostly dreadful." I meant it. I also carefully didn't think about it.

"I see."

"I sincerely hope you don't," I told her honestly.

"Now, because of the... delicacy... of what we need to discuss, and because we have less than four minutes left-"

"Three minutes twenty-seven seconds." Lee corrected.

"Which is less than four minutes Lee." I sighed. "This means I will have to skip most of it and get to the really really important one."

"Your accent is gone." She noted, amused.

"In addition to Chinese, Japanese, and English, I also speak eleven other languages." I was slightly annoyed now. "Every language spoken in the ABB as a matter of fact."

"Twelve," Lee said.

I looked at him. Was he enjoying this? "The Filipino group came in on Tuesday."

"There goes another weekend." I groaned. "Lee, Note this: Learn Filipino on the weekend."

It was a point of pride for me, I explained to myself. Being able to have a working grasp of, and order a beer with, every sub-gang, in every dialect. Plus, it enhances the mystique of Lung. He hears all, he knows all. And so on.

"Noted."

"This night has been very strange," I grumbled. "And it is not over yet."

"And it hasn't been for me?" She was definitely enjoying this.

"Fine. The short, short version." I looked at her squarely in the eyes. "You... remember."

"I remember a lot of things," she said, though I suspect she didn't believe I knew. "What in particular?"

I didn't use my ears this time. I raised both hands and pointed at each torch.

The flickering flames on the torches shifted, then roared to life, before pulling themselves to sit over my fingertips.

The two balls of fire hovered above my fingers, then very slowly spiraled into the air, each flame not touching the other.

As they climbed and spiraled upwards they appeared to move with a horrifyingly familiar purpose.

And as they went, sparks and embers fell but did not fade out, and fell like the seeds of a dandelion.

At this level, my control ended after five feet, and it dissipated into the sky.

I looked at Miss Militia and saw that it was enough.

"Oh," she said quietly. "That."

---===---​

Indeed.

Only one more thing to do, and then he could finally sleep.

I was in the front seat of the van, Jin was driving, and Lee sat in the back.

I was writing a list in Chinese, using the front dash as a brace. And considering the cracks it was accumulating, and the splinters the pencil had, it was going pretty well.

I frowned. It was legible, barely.

"Lee, can you get these for me in the next half hour?" It was a school day after all, and if memory served me, it took a half hour for me-her- to walk home after Lung's-my- capture.

She should be in bed by now.

Lee looked at this paper. "Yes." His gaze turned to Jin. "Bags?"

"Red box."

I turned to Jin. "Let me off at that corner. I will walk."

Then I hesitated, and bits of the Warlord crept in. "Is this your van?"

He had been wincing at the crunching noises his dash had been making.

"Yes sir."

"I will pay for the repairs. Now take the box back carefully and rest."

He tried very hard to not look relieved. "Thank you sir."

---===---​

And then I was alone in the night air. Dawn would be a short time in coming.

"Taylor," I said to the empty street as quietly as I could. "Let us talk."

"I know you do."

"You know why."

"No." My voice hardened. "No you do not."

"She does." I countered. "And you are not she."

"She," I emphasized. "She is Taylor Hebert. She fought Lung."

I pressed on despite the screaming in my mind. "You are Lung, as am I."

My footsteps grew ragged, my legs shook. Still I took another step.

"Taylor, Skitter, Weaver, Khepri." I said each name with an accompanying step through gritted teeth. "And now, Lung."

"Of course it isn't fair." I said darkly. "Do you think it's fair that my home lies under the ocean? That family and friend, home and city, my mother and father are down there? Do you think it's fair that all I have left of my life is scraps and memories?"

I took another step. "Do you think it's fair that I had plans, oh so many plans, and they all unravelled and became shit thanks to my time in that Yangban pit?"

Another step. "Do you think it's fair that I escaped that droning hell, came to this country, searched my friend, and found only a husk?"

Another. "Do you think it's fair, that everything I built in this city came crashing down thanks to a girl with bugs?"

It was hard not to shout, scream, burn everything to a pure gray ash. My voice boomed normally, and this pathetic rasp I had to use was not helping.

"Nothing is ever fair." My fingers dug into my palms until they hit scales. "And yet, here we are."

I felt the tears come again, and this time I didn't dry them. My legs were my own once more.

I walked and wept.

---===---​

We were a block away when she came back, more hysterical than ever before.

I stopped. "Do tell."

"And accomplish what exactly?"

"Do you think 'Weaver' can survive Bonesaw? Noelle? Leviathan?"

"And let your father die?"

"Do you think 'Weaver' can save the world from what I saw?"

"Well?"

<...no.>

"Exactly."

---===---​

I stared at the home. My home. No, her home. I was right on the driveway.

She didn't have to do anything.

Despite the denial, memories flooded me, swept me away.

I remembered the basement, the costume making.

I remembered my bedroom, the homework, and the plans.

I even remembered that goddamn step.

I was drowning in memories.

But, I was Lung, and I would not drown. Not even the Leviathan could do that to me.

I did curl up and grab my knees like she did, and I did close my eyes and savored the memories while I waited.

"Yes?" I said quietly.

"You mean causality?" I opened my eyes and started tapping at the air, leaving tiny candlelights floating as I did. Five would suffice.

"No." I used a fingernail to connect the fires together in a chain.

"You haven't vanished like a fart in the breeze, which means you are likely here to stay." I looped the end flame to the first.

"I am. Tell me, do you think yourself a mere record of what will be, or a memory of what may?"

"If the future, your future, is indeed immutably foretold, then I am not the master of my own fate." I shrugged. "No point to living then."

"I would." And I meant it too. Even if it'd take a lot of work.

"But, since things have changed, it's no longer a case of 'if'."

"Well, if the future can be changed, if your life is merely one path of all the myriad ways the cosmos might conform, then your power is infinite, and yet, still limited. For you could be used, but once. And in that change be rendered fiction forever more."

"Exactly." She didn't get it. So I swept the floating bits of fire away and started fresh.

"Things have changed." I drew a series of five dots and linked them into a chain. The last one I looped in a small circle back to the first. From that first dot I drew a new line to a new dot below the chain. "We are here. We," I stressed the word slightly. "Are not on this chain. And yet you still exist."

"That either we reconnect to the chain or..."

"What is done cannot be undone." I quoted some dusty old book.

"That's what I said."

"We," I corrected. "We are an asshole."

---===---​

"Done."

I was too used to his sudden approaches to even flinch. Plus there was a tiny, but distinct, surge of heat just before he arrived. "Any problems?"

"No." He hesitated slightly. "The last one was tricky, though."

Coming from him, that meant a lot.

"Good." I got to my feet, looked at him, and bit back a groan.

I forgot to specify which of the usual to bring on the paper, and so he had brought both. Classic Lee.

"Lee, metaphor check." There were still embers of the sarcastic bastard in there, I just had to know where to dig. "Should I lend you a hand, or, help you get ahead?"

He thought for a moment. Then he straightened.

"Hand." Attaboy Lee!

I took the bag he offered. "You double-bagged it too, good man."

I looked at the other bag. "We'll toss that in the freezer for a later celebration."

He said nothing and waited.

"Now, I need you to teleport me into that room. Then return here and wait for me to signal you when I need to leave."

I drew the layout with a bit of flame.

He studied it, then nodded. Then he was hanging from my windowsill by his fingertips, and he pulled himself up to peer inside silently.

Indeed. Lee is no pushover.

He returned to my side while the one hanging collapsed into ash.

Then he sat down and opened his arms.

I hated this part. No laughing now.

I sat in his lap. He had to be carrying me or it wouldn't work. Stupid Manton thing.

He'd nearly slipped a disc trying to pick me up to travel. Sitting was safer.

And then we were in the room. My room. Her room.

I gestured for him to leave.

---===---​

There she was. There I was.

Asleep.

A part of me wanted to kill her, snap her neck like a chicken bone. And spare her from what is to come.

But I couldn't.

I couldn't be so kind.

Instead, I lit my eyes up, took a step, and placed my hand over her mouth.

She awoke instantly, both hands going to grip my one. She inhaled to scream.

I leaned in. "Scream, and you'll wish I burned you in the tar on the roof."

Interesting. I wonder if it's because of Skitter or Khepri?

Can you stop them?

Do it.

Taylor's eyes widened in shock. I heard something buzzing near my ear for a moment before it dropped to the ground and did not move.

"You are probably wondering how I can do that," I whispered calmly. "The answer might surprise you."

I knew exactly what was going through her mind right now.

"I need to talk to you, but to do that, I must let go." I continued to whisper, as I knew Dad was a heavy sleeper, but there were limits. "You might be able to get the black widows I sense in the basement, and you might even get through my flame and bite me." I leaned in a bit more. "But do you want to do it here, with your father so close, and Oni Lee waiting on the driveway?"

I knew she'd check, and I felt her go limp. "I thought not."

I carefully sat on the ground and adjusted my jeans. I had been sitting a lot this day. Then I let go of her mouth.

"It has been a long night for both of us Taylor Hebert." I began without preamble or accent.

Though it was amusing that she'd been a cape for less than a day and she flinched just like Miss Militia. Must be a cape thing.

"You know who I am as we've fought tonight." She indeed knew me or at least of me.

"You know what I can and will do." She feared that she knew.

"There will be no speeches and no threats. Only facts." She wasn't even close.

"You are mine now." Four words could do so much damage.

"You are mine until I let you die."

And that was that.

---===---​

I stood and looked out the window at Lee on the driveway. There was no way I was having him teleport me out. It'd destroy everything I'd started here if I made her laugh.

I opened the window instead. I should miss the car easily.

The bag I'd tied to my jeans brushed against my leg. Ah right, the present.

"Ah, I almost forgot." I untied the bag from the belt loop. "A present."

I stepped carefully around the bed and placed the bag on my -her- desk.

"Never let it be said that Lung does not give you a hand with your problems."

Present and threat delivered I went to the window. "Enjoy your school."

I dove forward, like a swimmer, and cleared Dad's car with plenty of room to spare.

I also landed flat on my back, but that was nothing, and I was on my feet before Taylor could reach the window.

I knew she'd watch me and then follow me with bugs until I left her range.

It's what I would do.

---===---​

The girl known as Taylor Hebert collapsed on her bed, shaking like a leaf.

He was gone.

The nightmare was over.

She relaxed...

---===---​

She blinked, and her alarm was blaring by her ear.

Had she dreamt it?

Had she fought Lung?

Had she survived, run away, and had him visit her bedroom in the hours before morning?

No, it had to be a dream.

And it was, until she saw the bag on her desk.

Her present.

From Lung.

With shaking hands she open the simple knot on the plastic bag.

Another bag inside. She untied it too.

Then she looked in.

And with her father having his shower she couldn't get to the toilet.

She settled for throwing up in her trash can instead.

---===---​

She buried the present with desperate speed in the small dirt flowerbed in the back yard. There was no way she could hide them in the front yard's garden.

She was done before Danny Hebert finished his morning shave.

She washed her hands in the kitchen sink to get the dirt off, then had a shower as soon as she could.

It didn't help.

Every time she relaxed she could feel the bugs moving.

Crawling all over the presents.

All three of them.

Panlong (Chinese: 蟠龍; pinyin: pánlóng; Wade–Giles: p'an-lung; literally: "coiled dragon"), a lake dragon that has not ascended to heaven.