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I rolled my eyes inside my helmet, keeping the air cannon trained on the doorway while my bike idled under me.

The capes inside had hastily finished up when the darkness guy had felt my shot, hauling two bags out into the main room. The beast person stroked the snouts of the creatures while the other villains hefted the bags onto them.

As much as the Butchers were raring to jump in and start cracking skulls, I forced myself to stay outside. The beasts alone would be a problem for me to deal with, let alone whatever other powers the group might have. It'd be better for me to let them move away from the hostages before starting a fight.

Not to mention the Protectorate would be sending somebody as soon as possible thanks to my phone call- time was on my side here.

In the meantime, I could keep slipping bugs in here and there to try and pick up details. Besides Beast Master and Dark Helmet-

"Ooh, Spaceballs!" Firecracker interrupted. "We've so got to watch that again!"

"Later," I snapped. "We've still got a fight to deal with."

-the other three villains had their hair exposed, which gave me more to work with. One had short curls, and their blood silhouette seemed more masculine than the others. The other two were girls- the only real distinction I could make out without more insects was that one had much greasier hair than the other.

"And we still don't have a clue who they are or what they can do," Tactical grumbled. "We're going into this situation virtually blind."

Bearskin nodded. "It doesn't get any better than this," he agreed with a cheerful growl.

I considered their words, even as they started bickering, then unlocked my flail from its place on my belt. The beasts inside were as tall as horses, but much broader- the cannon probably wouldn't do anything to them, so I'd need a backup.

Inside, the villains were mounting up, hauling themselves onto the beasts. The unknown girl went behind the beast's master, and the curly boy accompanied the man in the helmet, leaving the greasy-haired girl to mount the third creature by herself. It seemed odd to me- the beasts were all carrying a bag of loot, and Helmet and Master were both larger than Greasy, so why did she get a steed of her own-

Quarrel shouted at me just as the beasts began to make for the door "Line of sight!"

I gunned the engine and veered away from the door as the creatures stampeded toward it. I heard thundering footfalls behind me as the creatures hit the road, and pulled the bike into a slide to turn. There was a moment where the bike made it out from the layer of darkness covering the road, and the squeal of tyres suddenly became louder. I pulled my cape off as the bike came to a halt, snapping it out into a shield.

I got my first real look at the villains and their rides- three monsters, built along the lines of a tiger, but far larger and brawnier. No skin or fur or scales covered them; instead they were a mess of exposed muscle and spikes of bone. Their heads were elongated, and their muzzles were packed with irregular teeth that jutted out at weird angles, yet were all sharp-looking.

Dirty Rotter whistled appreciatively. "Fuck me, look at the size of 'em!" he marvelled. "They make Animos look scrawny!"

The riders didn't seem to have a theme to them- I immediately picked out the beast's master, a stocky person in a cheap plastic dog mask, with a thick jacket and heavy boots. I could see the unknown girl behind her, leaning past her to see, blonde hair hanging loose.

"Dogs," Nemean muttered. "If those things are dogs…"

The darkness villain was the largest- a man in black motorcycle leathers, with a matching helmet sculpted to look like a skull in the front. More of that darkness was pouring off him, blurring his outline- I couldn't make out the boy behind him at all, only the yellow rod across Skull-guy's chest as the smaller boy held onto him.

The third dog had one rider- a girl with greasy black hair that hung almost to her waist. Her costume consisted of pockets, mostly- a sleeveless jacket, a belt hung with pouches, and baggy cargo pants. Her only concession to a costume was the bandanna covering everything from the eyes down, but I could see something small and silvery passing in front of her-

Danger sense flared in front of me. I couldn't bring the shield up fast enough, and something clipped the side of my head hard enough to knock it around a few degrees. Just as Quarrel had thought, the girl was some kind of Blaster, riding alone so she could get a clear shot.

I poked the cannon out past the edge of my shield, pointed at Pocket Girl. "Drop the money and surrender!" I bellowed.

The darkness cape exploded with vantablack clouds, flooding the space between us. In less than a second I was engulfed in it, utterly blinded, only able to rely on bloodsight and the poor senses of my insects. Sound was muffled and echoing, and my movements felt a resistance in the air.

I pulled the trigger on reflex, but the beasts were already in motion, and the shot just slapped against a flank as they turned tail and galloped away down the street.

"Did you honestly think that was going to work?" Needler asked. I rolled my eyes at her even as I jammed the cannon back onto my belt, reattached my cape, and rammed the accelerator.

The bike took off after the villains, but not fast enough- the darkness was slowing me down. The gap between me and them was closing, but only gradually.

Then I burst out of the cloud, and the world exploded back into being- streetlamps lighting the night, and the thunder of the beasts paws hammering against the ground. The bike found new life too, leaping forward without encumbrance. My cape billowed out behind me from the speed.

The darkness villain glanced back at the roar of my engine, then shouted something to the lone girl. She twisted from her place atop the third dog to see me and pointed an arm.

I didn't need the flare of danger sense to tell me to start dodging, swerving the bike back and forth. High-pitched cracking sounds rattled out in a staccato rhythm as whatever she was shooting at me shattered on impact with the road. I could see more of them orbiting the girl, visible as little silvery streaks zipping around her body. At one point she reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful more, little shiny balls that flew out of her hand to join the cloud circling around her.

Even with the dodging, I was still narrowing the gap, almost close enough to reach out and grab the beast's tails- they each looked like a couple of spinal cords attached end-to-end, long whips of bone and meat. I pulled the cannon off my belt again and set it to pepper-dust rounds. Tripping the creatures at this speed would almost certainly kill the riders as they were flung off, but stinging eyes and noses would slow them down.

Then Pocket Girl threw her hand out- and the road ahead of me was hit by a clump of shots all at once. Flecks hit my visor and scraped across my front, and I swerved hard on instinct, struggling to steer with one hand occupied by the cannon.

Darkness Guy threw out another cloud, and the bike slowed as it hit. I could still see them with bloodsight as the darkness villain shouted something and the beasts suddenly turned hard to the right.

I came out of the darkness a second later, in time to see the beasts take a run at a building and leap up to latch onto its surface. Massive claws dug into the brickwork, and the creatures hauled themselves up quickly.

"Magnificent," Vladimir breathed, watching the creatures make the climb with insolent ease.

I checked left and right, but there weren't any side roads or alleyways near here for me to drive down. I swung myself off the bike, barely remembering to turn the engine off, and flicked my grapplers out to fire them at the building's roof as the creatures disappeared over the edge.

The lines began to reel in, and I sprinted with them, running up the side of the building to land in a crouch on the roof.

The creatures were already on the next roof as I straightened up and pulled out the cannon, flicking the selector and firing a pepper-dust shot after them; a touch of Quarrel's power helped it arc over their heads to burst open in front of them. I didn't wait to see if it affected them, yanking on the grip to load a new round.

Behind the darkness villain, the second boy looked back, dressed in white that stood out against the black. He waved a hand at me.

My leg buckled under me in a sudden spasm- the muscles jolted like they'd been electrocuted. I fell to my knees.

The boy's power? It had to be- but I didn't have time to worry about that. I raised the cannon, still on my knees, and fired again. This time I dipped deeper into the aiming power, drawing a line straight to his back.

The villains were disappearing into the distance, but I saw the boy in white wave his arm again. This time my arm spasmed, flinging the cannon out to the side. The tunnel of altered space that Quarrel's power created strained and snapped from the sudden movement, and I barely managed to keep a grip on the cannon. By the time I looked up again, the villains were gone, only a slightly darker patch of night there to show where they'd been. They were out of range of bloodsight and my insect range.

"Fuck," I growled, putting the cannon away again.

"You really need to find an excuse to start using the other powers, because that was just embarrassing," Stoneknapper commented blithely. I gave him a shove and flipped my middle finger up at nothing so they could all see it.

"We should get back and check on the people there," Flinch sighed. I stepped off the roof, walking back down with the grappler cables trailing behind me.

The streets were quiet as I drove back to the site of the robbery. The darkness was still hanging in the air, and I went through them more slowly, keeping bloodsight on the whole time.

The building came into my range soon- the hostages were moving around, and there were more people I hadn't tagged yet. When I made it out of the last cloud of darkness, I saw a PRT van and two police cars parked outside.

"Yeah, now the pigs show up," Anchorage sneered.

I parked the bike and stepped off, heading for the door. As I approached, two silhouettes inside came out, revealing a PRT trooper guiding a woman in a sequinned purple dress. Her makeup had run and she was clinging to his arm as he gingerly walked down steps still obscured by the darkness.

"Hey! Excuse me!"

I turned to see a man in a red bodysuit waving at me. Racing stripes went down either side of it, and two more stripes met in a V at the chest.

This could only be Velocity, the fastest guy in town. His power let him shift into a hyper-accelerated state that could outrun anything short of a bullet. It made sense that he'd be the first hero to respond.

Muramasa checked the edge of my vision as I headed over toward Velocity. "Interesting," he noted, eyeing the subtle shape indicating a lack of armour below the belt.

I flushed inside my helmet. "Oh my god Muramasa, not the time!" I shoved him into the dark with a force born of sheer embarrassment.

The Butchers howled with laughter as I stepped up to Velocity. "Maybe it's more aerodynamic!" Vladimir chortled.

"Brave man," Bearskin snickered. "Imagine a nutshot at super speed!"

"Elpis, right?" Velocity asked. I hastily shoved the worst offenders into the dark and cleared my throat.

"Yes," I squeaked- cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, that's me."

If Velocity did notice my fumble, he was polite enough not to react to it. "Good to meet you in person at last. Sorry it's not under better circumstances."

"Mm. I tried to chase the villains who did," I waved an arm at the lingering darkness, "all this, but they got away."

"You let them get away," Needler noted snippily.

Velocity folded his arms. "Yeah, they've done that before. They're called the Undersiders."

I frowned, then realised Velocity wouldn't see it and opened my helmet. "I've never heard of them before. Are they new?"

He shrugged. "Nah, they've been around for something like six months. It's just that they're low profile, small-time. This is the biggest thing we've seen them pull off yet, robbing a casino."

I glanced at the building, still coated in darkness all over the façade. "Is that what it is? I couldn't see."

"Bold choice," Tock Tick commented. "City like this, there's usually some proper security in gambling places. I used to be on contract to a couple, keeping their vaults locked and their booby traps stocked."

"That's part of the problem with them- Grue's darkness gives them cover, and Hellhound's dogs give them an escape. We've got close to them a couple of times, but they either vanish before we arrive, or they slip through our fingers."

"Those are their names?" I asked. "Grue and Hellhound?" The latter tickled something in my memory- or rather, something in the shared memories.

"That's it." Nemean snapped her fingers. "Hellhound- I heard about her. She turns dogs into monsters, roams all over the state. I thought she could be a fit for the Teeth."

Velocity kept talking even as I dipped into the memories of articles about Hellhound, trying to remember something useful. "Those are the two we know the most about. They've both been active a couple of years, pulled small jobs here and there. It's the others we don't know anything about- especially now they've got a fifth member we don't even have a name for."

I glanced over at the door again as more civilians were led out by armoured troopers. It was strange to see that kind of light touch in men the Butchers remembered as hardened troops fighting with batons and rubber bullets and steel-capped boots.

"Did any of the civilians catch anything about them?" I asked.

Velocity shrugged. "Not that I've heard yet- and honestly, I'm not keeping my fingers crossed. These folks weren't expecting any more excitement than losing some money at blackjack- it'll be a wonder if they can remember anything clearly.

"Which is part of why I'm glad you're here," he added. "You said you chased them, right? Did you get a good look at them, or see them use their powers?"

"Besides darkness and dog monsters? There was one girl- long dark hair and lots of pockets. She shot some stuff at me- I don't know what it was, but she had to pull it out of her pockets, so we know she's not creating her own ammunition."

Velocity hummed, then turned and gestured to a trooper, who jogged over like he wasn't wearing heavy body armour. "Sergeant, can you ask the police to check the road surface? There might be some residue left over from the villains."

"Yessir."

"Good, thank you." Velocity turned back. "Anything else?"

"There was a blonde girl- didn't see her do anything. And there was a boy in white- I don't know what he did exactly, but he made my leg give out and threw off my arm when I tried to shoot at them. Maybe some kind of telekinetic?"

"No real firepower besides the dogs," Tactical mused, "but a good mix for thieves. Darkness for cover, the Blaster as a threat. The boy in white trips people up, and Hellhound provides the muscle slash escape route. Interesting."

"Could be." Velocity paused. "When you say you tried to shoot at them…"

It took a second for his meaning to click. "No, I mean with the air cannon," I said hastily, tapping the stock with a finger. "I figured I could slow them down with a net or whatever, but the kid just flicked a hand and suddenly my arm was all over the place."

"Ah. Well, that's going to be a bitch to deal with." Velocity glanced at the casino again- when I followed his gaze, it looked like some of the darkness had faded away at the edges. "I don't know if you want to stick around and help-"

"No, I'll stay," I said, watching a man in an ill-fitting suit scramble away from his trooper escort to wrap a woman in a bear hug- presumably his wife. "I don't think I can leave now anyway."

"Thanks."

Saturday 5th March, PRT Headquarters

I put the cap back on the pen and stepped back. "I think that's everything."

Armsmaster nodded. "Thank you for coming in, Elpis. We needed this intel."

"No problem." I looked at the whiteboard again- five columns, each with a photo printed out and taped to the top.

Grue and Hellhound's columns were the most full- in his case, he'd pulled a number of small jobs over the past three years, robbing stores and acting as a hired enforcer.

In her case, she'd never had a chance at a secret identity due to demolishing her foster home two years ago, killing her foster mother and badly injuring two children. She'd lived on the streets ever since, with a number of violent crimes to the name of Rachel Lindt.

Nemean hadn't just wanted to try and recruit her for her power. The Case 53 had started her life waking up in an alleyway, and things hadn't got much better until she'd joined the Teeth. Hellhound was the sort of young and volatile villain that Nemean tended to gravitate towards.

The other three were basically ghosts- the blonde girl was named Tattletale, but other than a blurred picture that showed her costume was purple, there was nothing else.

The last two didn't even have that- no pictures, no names. Grue's darkness had made the security cameras in the casino almost useless, and Velocity had been right to assume the civilians wouldn't be able to give an accurate account of things.

In effect, I was the one most familiar with the Undersiders, so I'd filled out a lot of the columns myself. Two telekinetics of different applications made for a tricky combination to go up against.

"Maybe we should try going after this lot after we've dealt with Coil," Rotter mused. "Not too dangerous to fight, but ought to be a fun challenge. Eh?"

"One thing at a time," Vladimir chided. "In any case, the Empire will have cooled once Coil is neutralised, and we can return to harrying them."

"Man," Ironclad said, "These guys sound like a real pain in the ass." I'd brought him along because we'd agreed to meet New Wave here, and he'd insisted on a recounting of the night's events. He'd made a good audience too, oohing and aahing in all the right places.

Armsmaster nodded, as did Velocity. "They're a slippery bunch. It's frustrating that this-" he gestured to the half-empty board, "- is all we have on them."

"We'll learn more next time," Velocity pointed out. "We'll just have to wait for them to pop up again."

"True." Armsmaster rubbed his chin. "In the meantime, I should try to upgrade my suit's sensors. That could help with Grue's power at least." He shrugged. "Something for later. In the meantime, I think you two have an appointment to keep," he said, casting a glance at Ironclad and me.

I checked the timepiece inside my helmet. "I guess we should go."

Armsmaster made his excuses and left without a backward glance, while Velocity marched off in another direction. Ironclad unfolded his armour from the corner he'd been squatting in and followed me out of the meeting room.

"You've got your phone?" I asked.

Ironclad patted the armoured container on his hip that I'd made for him. "Check."

"Alright. Check in when you can, and if anything happens-"

"Fall back and call you," Ironclad listed. "Come on, I'll be fine."

"It hasn't even been a week," I countered, leading the way down the hallway.

"Ah, you worry too much," Firecracker said easily. "Kid's wearing half a tank, and he's got way more backup this time."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," I retorted. I was starting to have second thoughts about letting Ironclad go along with New Wave's outing. I knew the hero family was capable, but I still wanted to come along and watch his back.

Of course, I'd already made plans to visit the hospital again, with decks of cards for Bearskin's tricks and a few little gizmos I'd Tinkered up to wow the kids. I couldn't back out of that at the last minute.

Even so…

Flinch sighed. "Taylor, I know you're still t-torn up about Spitfire, but you don't need to coddle the boy. You've talked with him, he knows what he wants- he'll be okay."

Whatever I was about to say was cut off when a crimson blur zipped out of a side corridor and snapped to a halt in front of us. It took a second for Velocity to decelerate into a clear image.

"Oh good, you're still here," he said in a rush. "Listen, I know you've got that thing with New Wave to get to, but I saw as I was passing through the Image department and I figured I should say something, so-" He pointed an arm back the way he'd come.

Like a lot of the PRT building, the corridor was grey, boring, standard office fare. A noticeboard halfway along was the only touch of excitement- the rest was doors labelled with whatever they contained.

Just past the noticeboard, one door was open, and someone was standing next to it. A girl with curly brown hair tumbling down around the plain mask she wore, and a t-shirt that said "I'm Full Of Bad Ideas!"

"Look, I wasn't there for whatever happened between you guys," Velocity said, "but I figured you should talk about it. So I'll, uh, I'll leave you to it." He nodded awkwardly and turned away.

I swallowed past the hard lump in my throat. "Spitfire?"

She took a step forward. "Hi."

"…You're looking well."

"Thanks."

Ironclad banged his hands together with a ringing crash. "Alright, elephant in the room, I'll just say it. Do you wanna talk about what happened or what?"

Spitfire glared at him. "Missed you too, jackass."

Quarrel sighed. "Go talk to her. Otherwise you'll be moping again, and I can't take any more of that."

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" I asked. With bloodsight I could see a couple of people hiding just past the doorway Spitfire had come out, leaning towards the door to try and eavesdrop.

"I think this one's empty," Spitfire said, opening a door on the other side of the corridor.

"Oh yeah, that looks really secure," Tactical snarked.

Anchorage rolled her eyes. "Swear to God, man, is there anything that'll shut you up?"

I pushed Tactical just out of hearing range as I followed Spitfire. The room inside was stacked with rolls of fabric and boxes of pins, mannequins with pieces of armour on them and sketches of various outfits on the walls.

"Hm. So this is where they design hero costumes." Needler eyed up a couple of the design sketches. "Interesting."

Spitfire opened another door to the side. "There's a changing room in here. How's that?"

"Sure."

It was surprisingly spacious, with a bench and mirrors and a wall of cubbys and coathooks. Still, it wasn't meant for two regular people and someone as big as Ironclad. After trying to fit himself through the door and failing repeatedly, much to the Butchers' amusement, he simply dropped most of the metal on the floor and walked in with only a basic layer of metal covering him. The helmet only emphasised his real size- it sat on his head, the edges reaching to each shoulder, so it looked like he just didn't have a neck.

Once the doors were closed, Spitfire sat down on the bench against the wall and drummed her fingers on her knees.

"So," she said.

I screwed up my courage and forced myself to talk. "I'm sorry."

Spitfire's head snapped up.

"You were right. You needed someone to take care of you, and I wasn't cutting it. You were living in a motel, and you weren't going to school, and I wasn't opening up to you about…" I laughed humourlessly, "anything at all. I just threw you in the deep end and I never thought to talk to you about it because I just assumed you were okay with it."

Spitfire stood up. "Hold up a second."

I almost bit my tongue clamping my jaw shut.

Spitfire took a second to speak again. "Okay. So that's true- like, you were kind of dragging me along for a lot of shit-"

I winced. "Ouch," Stoneknapper agreed.

"-but I probably should have said all that stuff before it all went to shit. Just- I was scared, and hurt, and I know I got healed but still, and somebody said Victor can drain people's emotional control or something, and-" Spitfire tossed her hands up, "I was all fucked up. I was gonna talk to you about that stuff after the mission anyway, but I just kinda had a meltdown.

"Don't get me wrong," she said quickly, "I still stand by what I said. But," she sighed and sat down again, "you guys were my friends. And even if I'd joined the Wards normally, I wouldn't have wanted to leave like that."

I'd come in here braced for an argument or some shouting- now Spitfire's words had left me utterly flat-footed.

Ironclad raised a finger- his own finger, not one of the fingers on his gauntlets. "Soooo, where do we go from here? Because I'd kinda like it if we were friends again."

Spitfire shrugged. "I'm gonna need time. But they've got me set up with a therapist, and they're sorting out a foster family so I won't just have to live in the Wards quarters, so… Yeah, maybe we can take another shot at being friends."

Vladimir's eyebrows went as high as they could- and since it was purely a mental image, that was pretty far. "Well shit, this is a lot calmer than I thought this was going to go."

I coughed gently. "Does that include me?"

Spitfire looked at me. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not a hundred percent right now, but yeah. Eventually."

My shoulders slumped with relief. "Okay. I'm okay with that. Sorry, I just didn't think you wanted anything to do with me, I mean, you didn't answer my texts or anything-"

"Texts?"

I stopped mid-babble. "Yeah? I sent you an apology a couple of days ago."

"Was that to my old phone?"

"Yeah?" I asked, unsure what she meant.

"The old phone that was in my costume?"

"Yeah?"

"The costume that totally burnt off and melted everything in it?"

"Oh my god," Tock Tick groaned. "We're idiots, all of us!"

I buried my face in my hands, agreeing with Tock's sentiment.

I heard Spitfire snicker, and then Ironclad chuckled, and then the two of them started laughing as I gave a little heartfelt groan. The Butchers writhed in embarrassment that we'd all missed a very simple detail.

Eventually their laughter wound down, and I uncurled a fraction.

"Okay," Ironclad giggled, hiccupping a little, "do we need to talk about anything else?"

Spitfire patted her chest a couple of times and stood up. "Actually, yeah." She turned her gaze on me again. "I want to be friends again. You guys were fun to hang out with, I like you. But if we're going to do this, we're going to need to actually talk to each other about shit, and listen. I don't want us to make the same dumb mistakes all over again."

I chewed my lip for a long while as I thought. It wasn't unreasonable to ask me to talk more, to open up. If I ignored how that brought me closer to being found out.

On the other hand, I didn't want to lose the positive parts of my life just to stay safer. I wanted to keep my friendship with them- and to do that, I needed to show I meant it. There were some things I was overdue to tell them. "Guys? What do you think?"

"The choice is yours in the end, Taylor," Muramasa said.

Rotter cackled. "Hey, the sooner you get found out, the sooner we get back home-" That got him pushed into the darkness immediately, but he laughed the whole way down.

Flinch smiled. "This is very brave of you, Taylor."

I breathed out. "Okay." I started bringing insects in toward me, setting them to search for anything like a lens or a microphone. I didn't need the PRT finding out about this.

"Alright," Spitfire said, relaxing a tad. "Now-"

"Wait a second." I raised my hands to my chin and snapped the catches on my helmet. "I should have done this before, but you deserve to know now at least. Both of you," I added, nodding to Ironclad as I unfastened my helmet from the neck plating and lifted it off, placing it out of the way in one of the cubbies.

"Holy shit," Ironclad muttered as I rolled the neck plating down and found the seam of my mask where it joined the undersuit. Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed it and pulled upward.

The world blurred as the lenses came away from my eyes- the eyebrow frames pinched as they came away, and I was pretty sure I'd pulled out one of my hairpins along the way. Still, all that did nothing to lessen the twin gasps of shock I heard.

I tossed my mask next to my helmet and opened a hidden compartment on my belt, pulling out a spare pair of glasses. Spitfire's poleaxed expression came into focus as I put them on.

"Maybe this is too late to really mean much," I said quietly, "but I hope it counts for something."

Spitfire stepped in close to peer at my face. "Holy shit," she murmured, "you're young. How old are you?"

I winced. "16 in June."

"16?!" Spitfire exploded. "I thought you were like 20! Are you still in school?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god…" Spitfire clutched at her hair frantically. "Oh my shit, this- but you were so experienced! They way you talked… And you're my age? This is nuts!"

"Well, at least she's taking it well!" Firecracker sniggered.

"What's your name?" Spitfire demanded. "Don't tell me it's something like Jane or whatever, because I couldn't take knowing that the biggest badass I know is really called Jane Smith or something."

I blinked. "No? My name's-"

"Taylor Hebert."

If my head had turned any faster I'd have broken my neck. As it was, I had to push my glasses back up the bridge of my nose to stare at Ironclad. "What?"

Ironclad… fell apart. The loose layer of ball bearings simply dropped to the floor and rolled all over, while the larger pieces rattled as they hit.

What was left was a skinny teenage boy in dark hoodie and jeans, with a makeshift mask pulled down over his face. It looked less like a balaclava and more like a woolly hat with eyeholes cut out of it, and as he pulled it off-

"You think you've got problems? I've been going to school with her," said a familiar voice in a tone of half-laughing disbelief.

"Tarquin?!" I shouted in sync with half the Butchers. The other half were swearing up a storm, or in Firecracker's case, laughing hysterically.

It was definitely him- same pale face, same messy dark hair, same dark circles under the eyes from staying up too late playing video games- or had that just been his excuse for going out at night to find criminals to beat up? In this small room I could even make out his scent with a few deep sniffs.

The biggest difference right now was his gobsmacked expression as he stared back at me.

"You know each other?!" Spitfire shrieked. "And you didn't know? What next, is your dad secretly Hero or something?"

Tock Tick hissed through his teeth. "Bad taste."

"How the hell did we not figure out we were working with the same kid the whole time?" Butcher demanded. "This is some bullshit!"

"This is far too much of a coincidence," Tactical declared. "The boy's been playing us- we need to find out what he knows."

As much as I wanted to shout Tactical down for that, I hadn't got this far without some necessary paranoia, so I flicked to bloodsight and breathed in deeply. Nemean had been able to pick up strong emotions through people's scent- fear, anger, lust and such. I wasn't anywhere near as good, but obviously, but Tarquin's scent seemed genuinely muddled, and his heart was pounding a panicked beat. If he was faking, then he was doing it impossibly well.

"So I guess I've got more explaining to do," I managed.

"Yeah, kinda," T said weakly.

"Okay, stop, hold on," Spitfire said, waving her hands. "You're my age," she pointed at me, "you're also my age," pointed at Tarquin, "and you go to school together, but you didn't know each other's identities until right now?" She collapsed onto the bench. "What the fuck. The fuck what."

Flies on the outer door handle registered movement- someone had just opened the door to the design room. I had to fight down the urge to draw a weapon.

There was a knock on the changing room door. "Um, excuse me?" came a muffled voice.

The other two jumped like they'd been hooked up to the mains. "Yes?" I called.

"Sorry to bother you, but New Wave is here, they're asking for Ironclad? And the costume team really needs to finish up with Spitfire?"

"Son of a bitch," T swore.

"We can talk more later," I said. "I'll explain everything, I promise."

"You better," he muttered, bending down to pick up the pieces of his armour. They stuck on to his body as he placed them, while the ball bearings at his feet ran up his legs to spread out over his body. "God, I'm not going to be able to think of anything else now."

"You better explain it to me too," Spitfire said. After a second she sighed and stood up again, fiddling with something at the back of her head. The mask came off, elastic straps falling to the sides.

Underneath, Spitfire's face was someone I could have passed in the street- brown eyes, long nose, a smattering of freckles across the cheeks. "My real name's Emily," she admitted.

I smiled involuntarily. "Nice to meet you Emily."

"My parents call me Tarquin," T confessed, rolling his hat-mask back onto his face, "but everyone else calls me T."

"Oh…kay?" Spitfire- Emily, and somehow she seemed to have a very 'Emily' face- looked askance at me. I shrugged and picked up my own mask.

"You've still got my number?" I asked, switching glasses for mask and fiddling with the eyebrows. "Give me a call and we can meet up. I'll buy you lunch, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Spitfire put her mask back on as well, adjusting the straps. "Wish you could tell me now," she grumbled.

I sighed. "Me too." I slotted my helmet back onto my head and redid the clasps, rolled my neck from side to side, then bounced the eyebrows to make sure they worked right. Up, down, left, right. Spitfire giggled for a second at my antics.

"Hey." I laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for giving me another chance."

Spitfire patted my hand. "Well, you gave me one," she admitted.

The knock came again.

"Alright, we're coming!" Tarquin- Ironclad- shouted.

On impulse, I stepped forward and wrapped Spitfire in a hug, gently so as not to squish her against the armour. I'd forgotten the hint of something like gasoline or napalm on her breath, but it was clear now. Her hair smelled different too- washed with something better than horrible motel shampoo.

I stepped back after a second. "The Wards are lucky to have you," I blurted.

I could see the muscles in her jaw move as she smiled under the mask. "Thanks," Spitfire said softly.

"So I'm opening the door now," Ironclad said, one hand on the handle. "Three-two-one-"

The harried young man on the other side stepped back as Ironclad opened the door and stepped onto the pile of his discarded armour- it moved up his body as his power grasped onto the pieces and pulled them into a coherent form. In a few seconds he was back to his usual massive self.

"So are you going to move your big tin tuchus so we can get out or what?" Spitfire asked.

It took more shuffling and excuse-me's to get all of us back into the corridor. The intern waved for Spitfire to follow him and took off without waiting to see if she was following.

Spitfire lingered for a second though, fiddling with her feet. "I'll see you around," she mumbled, and shuffled off.

At the end of the corridor, she looked back. I raised a hand and waved a little; Ironclad gave a thumbs-up. Spitfire waved back.

Then she rounded the corner and was gone.

"She'll be alright," Nemean said comfortingly.

"Yeah," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat, "I know."