4

"Last week, sources within the astronomy and civilian Endbringer watch community noted the disappearance of one of the most insidious threats the world has faced since parahumans first came onto the scene. The Endbringer known as the Simurgh disappeared from her position in orbit. I'm here to tell you today that we have confirmed that not only has the Simurgh disappeared from orbit, but both Leviathan and Behemoth appear to have vanished as well."

The director of the PRT held up her hands for silence as the crowd of journalists began yelling over each other in an effort to be the first to ask their question and have it answered. As soon as they settled down, Rebecca Costa-Brown continued her prepared speech. "Now, let's not jump to any conclusions prematurely. Unfortunately, we don't know for certain what this means for the future. For now, the PRT and Protectorate, along with affiliated organizations and groups, will be monitoring the situation. We can not allow ourselves to be lulled into a false sense of security. The Endbringers are cunning, especially the Simurgh, and this could be a ruse to lower our guard. We will release more information as it becomes available to us. Now, I'll open the floor to questions."

Looking over the crowd, the woman pointed out an anchor from one of the popular, safe (read: colluding) media outlets. "Yes, Ms. Kennedy."

Looking into the director's eyes, the pretty brunette smiled a shark's smile. "Director, is there any truth to the rumor of Eidolon's disappearance? And does it have anything to do with the disappearance of the Endbringers?"

The room fell dead silent.

"Where did you hear that?" The director hissed, before she winced minutely and reached for her right ear, her hand freezing halfway up. Putting her hand back down, she declared, "This meeting is over," and stormed out of the room as pandemonium erupted.

Amy, like every other person near a TV on that floor of the hospital, stood frozen in shock as the station cut to a commentator in the studio. She tuned out the talking head and stumbled away in a daze, heading for the elevator. Going up to the top floor, she made her way to the roof access and stepped outside into the cool night air. She walked over to the railing off to the side of the roof access door and looked out over the city.

Fishing into her pocket, she pulled out a box of cigarettes and a cheap lighter. She didn't smoke often, and with her powers she could modify the tobacco to be something not just less harmful but beneficial—if, yes, a bit more relaxing than a normal cigarette… But recently she had found herself indulging in the filthy habit more and more.

Modified (former) cancer stick between her lips, she brought the lighter up and flicked it. Something white flew just in front of her face and knocked the coffin nail from her pursed lips. Amy frowned.

"That's awful for you, you know. Smells and tastes like shit, too."

Looking up and to her right, Amy found the source of the voice. A small woman, shorter than her even, sat perched atop the entrance to the hospital. A tight, black body suit clung to every curve of the small woman's lithe, muscular body outlining a petite, fit build that made Amy's mouth dry up and something else start drooling.

The body suit wasn't all black, however. Over the newcomer's small breasts was a white spider. It's four upper legs reached up and circled around the front and back of her neck, around the hood she wore, almost possessively.

The bottom four legs trailed down her body, two in front and two in the rear. The front set that Amy could see terminated at the woman's waist, where she wore a utility belt of some sort with a couple of small bags. On the back of the spider was a patch of bright, blood red that glowed and pulsed like a heartbeat, in the shape of an hourglass.

The outside of the hood over the woman's covered head was white, while the inside was black with a messy red web pattern that glowed like the hourglass and spread from the inside of the hood about the woman's shoulders like a shawl. The light from the hood painted the woman's white hair in an eerie glow.

The woman's mask had an oversized set of stylized eyes that seemed somehow too expressive as she studied Amy. And on top of her head, poking through the hood, were a set of tall, triangular ears that reminded her of a dog or fox—probably real, given the way they occasionally flicked this way and that.

"Well, if you're going to check me out, might as well get a closer look."

Amy winced and started to protest, but the young-sounding woman jumped from the access area, tucked into a flip, and landed on the railing a few feet away on the tips of her toes. The platinum blonde spread her arms and turned around, giving Amy a good look at her backside as well, sending the tail of the… jacket? that acted like a miniskirt and hid her ass and crotch flaring out and up, revealing what was damn near a cameltoe and an ass Amy wanted to try bouncing quarters off of, the material actually going down into the crack of said ass and leaving each side marvelously well-defined.

Amy recognized the cape by description and from a few blurry photos on the Brockton Bay section of PHO. A newbie who had shown up at the end of June, shortly after… A few months ago, at the beginning of summer. Over the past four months and change, the cape who went by Widow had taken a massive bite out of the Bay's gang population.

Oddly, Widow was active much of the day and night, implying that either she didn't work, or she didn't care about her civilian identity. And despite being out during the day, every photo to date was a blurry mess—not a Stranger effect, but more like she knew she was being photographed and moved at the last second every time just to screw with the photographers.

"So, what're you doing up her, miss healer?" The spider-themed cape asked, leaning backwards in a way that Amy felt should have probably broken her spine and would have made professional gymnasts cry at the unfairness of it as she rolled backwards, showing off a level of flexibility that was mouth-watering, before settling down into a squat on the railing.

Amy shook her head. "Smoke break."

Widow simply stared.

"News just announced that the Endbringers disappeared. I don't know whether to cheer to start looking for the other boot to drop."

"Oh right, that," the other girl nodded, as though the news didn't really effect her and Amy might as well have told her the election results for a foreign country—mildly interesting but not something to get worked up over. The shape of the mask over Widow's face became a smile and her oversized eyes scrunched in a way that emphasized it. "Sounds like a good reason to celebrate. Want to go out and have some fun?"

Amy considered the offer for a moment before shaking her head. "Sorry, I've got patients to tend to."

"No, no. It's fine. I understand," Widow said, in a voice that said it really wasn't fine. "I just thought maybe we could go out, kick some heads in, talk about our favorite hentai, get something to eat, that sort of thing."

Amy froze where she stood, her heart going still in her chest for a moment. "Mis—"

"Up up up," Widow shushed her, putting her finger over where her lips would be. "I have no idea who that is," she said, completely deadpan. "So, stranger who I've never met, want to go grab a bite to eat and have some fun?"

Amy stared at the girl across from her for a moment. Pulling out her phone, she hit speed dial 1. The phone picked up after the third ring. "Hey Ames, what's up?"

"Yeah, Vic, I'm going to leave the hospital a little early and meet up with a friend."

Smelling something juicy, Vicky asked, "A friend or a 'friend?'"

"It's not a date," Amy groaned.

"It's totally a date!" Widow called, loud enough that there was no way Vicky didn't hear.

The blonde seemed to perk right up. "Amy, who was that?"

Amy sighed. "Hanging up now. I'll call if I need you for anything."

"Enjoy your daaaate," her sister teased and Amy rolled her eyes as she hung up.

Turning her attention to the spider-themed cape, she glared. "It's not a date."

Widow shrugged. "If you say so. But so what if it were?" Not giving Amy a chance to answer, she dug into one of the pouches on her belt. "Now, this date does come with caveats."

"Not. A. Date." Amy growled. "And what sort of 'caveats?' If you pull out a blindfold, I'm running for the door."

"Ooh, kinky! I'll keep that in mind for later." At Amy's glare, she hurried to continue. "Ground rules. Rule one: no touchy."

Amy caught the pair of plain latex gloves tossed her way. Looking between the gloves and the spider-themed cape, she began to suspect there was something the other girl really didn't want her to know.

As if reading her mind, Widow explained, "I want a chance to talk and explain first, before we get handsy."

Wary but curious, Amy nodded and put the gloves on. "Any other rules?"

"You can't repeat anything you hear to anyone."

The healer raised an eyebrow at that. If she was right, it may just be worth agreeing to that stipulation. "Fine. Anything else?"

"You're going to need to take your phone out and pull the battery. We'll stay in public, where people can see, but I can't risk your mom having installed listening software or tracking our location."

That was almost a deal breaker. Amy nearly said no right then and there. But the possibility that her missing friend, one on a very short list of those, had come back and was reaching out to her—and likely hadn't reached out to anyone else yet, or she was sure she would have heard about it—was too much to just walk away from. "I need some sort of assurance that I'm not walking into a trap."

Widow hummed quietly. Finally, she murmured, "I know why you hate Dean."

Yeah, that sealed it. Amy fished her phone out and yanked the battery. "Let's go."

Widow watched her head towards the stairs for a moment before asking, "Where are you going?"

Amy paused. "Elevator?"

Widow chuckled and hopped down off the rail. "Want to take the express?"

Frowning at that, Amy asked, "You fly? Everyone knows you're a Mover of some sort, but no one has any proof about what kind."

"We prefer 'falling with style,'" the shorter girl answered, before turning around and holding her arms out a bit. "Hop on."

"Piggy back?" Amy asked, a bit incredulous. Vicky usually carried her bridal. Which was both embarrassing and left her stomach fluttering.

"I need both hands for this. Now, come on," she said, wiggling her ass from side to side.

Amy gave in and climbed on. She raised an eyebrow as she felt something squeeze against her lower back and thighs, but before she could question it, Widow ran to the edge and jumped off.

Amy was not too proud to admit that she clung on for dear life and screamed like she was on a roller coaster. Or that the scream went from 'this is scary' to 'oh God, I'm going to die' about halfway down the building.

Then Widow's arm flicked out and a white stream of something shot out and connected to a building nearby. Their fall became a swing as downward motion became lateral, and Amy took a breath and squealed again as they began to rise. Then, they settled into a regular rhythm of ups and downs as they swung through the city.

"Okay, so she's a screamer. Going to need a gag to go with that blindfold," Widow snarked. Amy thought the comment was meant for her, only for that to be disproven a moment later as she answered what sounded like half a conversion. "Mm, yeah. I like the sound of that. You do it to me often enough."

Must be a headset. Radio or phone, Amy realized.

"So, you hungry?" Widow asked, and this time Amy knew it was meant for her.

Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was early night now. "Yeah. Did you have something in mind?"

"Mexican? There's a nice little place on the Boardwalk."

Amy recognized an olive branch when she saw one. The Boardwalk was perhaps the most patrolled area in town at this time of night. It was public space and there would be lots of people around. And likely Wards, too.

"Sounds good," she agreed.

The direction of their swing changed as they started heading east at the next intersection. Within a few minutes, they were descending as the buildings immediately around the beachfront and the Boardwalk dropped in height, before touching down in the middle of a crowded street full of people.

The pressure around Amy's lower back and thighs disappeared and she slid off of Widow's back, finding that as she did that the smaller girl had been holding her in place somehow. Around them, people were taking out phones and snapping pictures. Reflexively, Amy pulled her hood back up from where the wind had knocked it back.

Widow smiled and waved to the gathered crowd like she had done this for years. Laughing, she held up both hands for attention. "Okay, okay! Come on guys, let us through! We're hungry."

The crowd parted and allowed them to walk through, but people still approached from the sides and asked for the occasional selfie or autograph—the first usually with both of them, the second usually individually. The ones asking for autographs, Amy knew spent lots of time here doing exactly that and made a killing selling them online, but if Widow knew (which she likely did) she didn't seem to care.

They entered the only Mexican place on the Boardwalk and were quickly shown to a booth in the back. They looked over the menu and gave their order, and it was all Amy could do to keep her questions in long enough for the waitress to leave.

Before she could ask anything though, Widow reached up and pulled her hood off. The face revealed beneath was beautiful, with small, pouty lips, a button nose, eyebrows that matched her hair, and sky blue eyes. The canine ears, she saw, were real—giving her both a normal, human set of ears and the larger set, which still flicked occasionally at sounds in the restaurant.

It just… Wasn't the face she was hoping to see.

"Hey, hey, don't look like that," Widow soothed, reaching out and taking her hand. Her gloved hand. Amy suddenly resented the girl for that, feeling lied to and disappointed— "Amy, look at me. Look."

Amy met the sky blue eyes across from her and blinked when they shifted to forest green, then back again. Then the girl winked. "Keep it to yourself, huh?"

"What- but how?"

"Later. For now, I have a story to tell. About someone you know."

Amy sent the girl an exasperated look, taking her hand back. "Fine. But this had better be good."

"Fine, fine." The other hero paused as the waitress returned with their orders then scurried off. Cutting off part of her chicken fajita, Widow popped it into her mouth, only to frown and pull a face.

"What's wrong? Is it bad?"

Widow shook her head. "No, I was just reminded that no one this far north knows how to cook anything approaching decent Mexican." She paused, tilting her head sightly to the side. "… Okay, yeah, or anything from south of the Mason-Dixon. … And exactly whose fault is it for spoiling me on food in Dallas and New Orleans? That's right, I blame you. Now shut up, she's looking at us funny."

Looking back up at Amy, Widow smiled. "Sorry about that. Went on a bit of a road trip recently and my friend has been bitching about the food ever since we came back. … Even if he's right. I mean, what kind of retard hears 'sweet tea' and thinks that means 'pour a cup of sugar into a glass of cold tea?'"

"You were going to tell me about a friend of mine?" Amy reminded.

"Right," Widow nodded, glaring at her plate like it had betrayed her somehow as she forced herself to eat it. "So this friend was kind of stressed out. What with school and… extracurricular activities. Her home life was kind of crappy because her parents were fighting and going through the first stages of a messy divorce."

That sounded exactly like Missy to Amy's ears.

"Well, one day, she met a guy. He was in a bit of trouble, so she offered to help him out. He had just gotten powers and got the absolute shit end of the stick as a Case 53." Amy winced. She had seen a few and knew that sometimes, they weren't exactly pretty to look at.

"He got—What did you call it? … A one-shot pre- and post-cognitive snapshot of about forty years worth of time. Some of the details were not quite right, some were just plain wrong, but for the most part they seem to have panned out. He told her some things and, after some thinking on it, she decided that so much of the day-to-day bullshit she was dealing with just didn't matter.

"So she left. Tossed it all away to try to make a difference under a new identity. Except she screwed up. She's kind of stubborn, so it took a while to figure out, but she realized that maybe she should have told her friends not to worry. Kept in contact."

Amy shot the girl across from her a flat look. "And why did she have to leave at all?"

"Do you think her parents would've let her just step out on her own? Quit her 'after school club?' That the 'club' itself wouldn't get involved and try to keep her from quitting?"

That was true. Missy's parents would have shit a brick, and did. The PRT would have definitely gotten involved, and had. As the last person to speak with her, Amy had been questioned extensively. Thankfully, as Panacea, she was almost beyond reproach and Carol had eventually stepped in when it became obvious they were barking up the wrong tree. They hadn't quite given up the search, but it was getting to the point where they would start shifting their focus away from the missing persons case.

On the other hand, powers were bullshit. If someone acts fine one day and suddenly changes the next after meeting someone else, the obvious answer is 'a Master did it.' Which Missy would have known.

And she's still in contact with the guy. So there's some physical element she… No, he doesn't want me to know about, because he knows how my powers really work, because Thinker bullshit. Something I would probably immediately suspect is evidence of Mastering. But they had to know that, and yet they still came to me for some reason. The question is, why? What does he want? Or is Missy just trying to talk to a friend? Ugh, this is why I hate Masters.

While Amy thought it over, Widow paid the bill. Then, the two of them left the restaurant. Outside, they found a small crowd had gathered, along with three people neither Panacea nor Widow particularly wanted to see.

"Hey sis, how's the date going?" Victoria Dallon, in her costume as Glory Girl, checked out the unmasked spider-themed cape—along with the other two parahumans present and lots of people snapping pictures.

Widow simply grinned, offering a hand to Glory Girl. "Pretty well, so far. If I'm lucky, we might even have a little," she looked around, before leaning in slightly and mock whispering in a particularly naughty tone, "lewd handholding."

Playing along, Vicky rocked back and fanned her face. "Wow, so far on a first date? Should I be worried about your intentions towards my sister?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh, I like her. Say, do you think I have a shot?" The costumed form of Clockblocker cut in from where he and Gallant were standing nearby.

"Not for all the time in the world," Widow countered instantly.

"Ouch," the boy hero sounded aggrieved, wincing and putting a hand over his heart.

"Hello," Gallant said, extending his hand towards the new hero. "I'm Gallant, this is Clockblocker. We're with the Brockton Bay Wards team—"

"I know who you are."

The response this time was several degrees colder than the one she had given Clock or her sister, Amy noted. She's still not completely over that crush, is she?

"Do you have some time? We'd love to sit down and talk. It's hard being an independent hero, especially in the Bay. This is the first opportunity we've had to speak with you—"

"That's because I've been actively avoiding you." A murmur went through the crowd around them. "I don't want to join your team. Nothing against the people on it, but I don't want to be micro-managed. Nor do I want to be turned into a walking publicity stunt, relegated to the safest areas of the city and kept well out of danger. I've been pretty successful on my own, so I'd rather keep the 'independent' part of 'independent hero.'"

"Are you sure? It's safer to have a team who has your back," Gallant tried.

Widow shook her head. "I'm not going to be Vista's replacement. Sorry. Thanks but no thanks."

She yanked her mask down over her head, situating it properly before pulling her hood up and fitting her upper ears through. Turning to Amy, she asked, "Shall we?"

Amy cast a glance at Vicky, who shrugged, telling her that Vicky had no stake in the Wards being there and she was there for her sister—and maybe Gallant. The brunette eventually nodded and followed after the platinum blonde, the crowd allowing them to pass. They took a set of stairs off the Boardwalk leading down to the beach, and it wasn't until they were walking in the sand and well away from other people that Amy said, "You were pretty hard on him, Missy."

"Like you've got any room to complain, miss 'I'm getting NTR'd by my sister's boyfriend and I can't decide if I like it or not.'" Amy glared, but she could tell that the other girl regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. "Sorry. Too far. He just rubs me the wrong way."

Amy worked her anger back down to something manageable before she likewise said something she would regret. Yanking off her glove, she held out her hand. "Hand. Now."

Stopping on the beach, Widow turned around and eyed Amy and her outstretched hand. "So… This is it, huh?"

Sighing, the shorter girl pulled her own glove off. "We await your judgment," she chuckled mirthlessly, taking Amy's hand before the brunette could think to ask what she meant by 'we.'

And then Amy's power told her something impossible. There were two people standing in front of her. One of those was her friend, Missy. Oh, there were some very interesting changes, but it was still Missy at the end of the day.

The other was a man, sort of. A man in the form of a girl layered over, through, and inside Missy. In every nook and cranny, seemingly touching every cell.

The costume? The second cape.

The (functional!) parabolic ears? Other cape.

Everything she saw externally and a whole lot of things no one but her would see internally? Second cape.

"That's the Case 53, isn't it? He doesn't have body of his own and needs a host, and you… Volunteered? Do you have any idea how many ways he could have Mastered you with physical access to your brain?!"

A signal was passed directly to the audio center of Missy's brain, responsible for interpreting sounds. A moment later, the girl wearing a second face raised an eyebrow. "No more than you could. It's not that you can't do brains, but that you're afraid to. Because … Oh wow, really? You sure I should just— … Okay then."

Her attention turning back to Amy, Missy said, "You're not your dad. No matter what your adoptive mom thinks."

Amy let go and jerked her hand back. "How the fuck—"

Missy laughed. "Welcome to my world. This asshole told me the civilian names of every Ward on my team the day we met. And then dropped an info nuke in my lap that I'm not even going to get into."

Looking around, Amy spotted a bench not too far away, walked over to it, and sat down. Missy, in disguise, followed. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Wherever you want. I'll answer what I can."

With a nod, Amy asked the most pressing question first. "How do I know you're not Mastered?"

"I hate it when he's right. You just lost me ten bucks," Missy grumbled. "That day I came back to school looking like hammered shit? That was after our first night out together. … And brain-melting tentacle sex, but that's beside the point. … What do you mean, it's not? … 'Classic conditioning?' That assumes you have contact with someone for a prolonged period of time. You can't condition someone in a single night without some kind of Master bullshit super sex. Everything I did was by my own choice."

Missy rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Amy. "I'm not Mastered. Yeah, there are some really shitty side effects when we separate, but they pass within a day or so and there aren't any sort of cravings or anything like with drugs. Well, no cravings beyond wanting to be bulletproof and capable of juggling tanks. But that's psychological, not withdrawal. Last time we separated was last month and we decided we wouldn't any more unless it was necessary."

"And if I asked you to separate right now?"

Missy sent her a flat look. "I'd tell you that's fucking stupid and I'm not doing it on a beach just to prove a point. Maybe in a secure room or something, but not otherwise."

She doesn't seem Mastered… But that's the problem with the 'a Master did it' argument. They'd be a pretty shitty Master if the person they've Mastered seems Mastered, and there aren't many ways to actually tell if someone is or not. It could be exactly as she says.

Amy eventually gave up on that line of thought. Smarter people than her had tried and failed to work out a solution to the Master problem and as far as she knew, there wasn't one that applied universally. What worked against the victims of one Master had no effect on another set of victims.

"Okay."

Missy raised an eyebrow under her living suit. "'Okay?' That's it?"

"It's either that or assume you've been Mastered and it's permanent, pervasive, and persistent. So… What now?"

Missy hummed, considering the other girl for a moment. Her mask shifted away, leaving her (false) face exposed. "I'm putting a team together and I'd like you on it."

"Who's on it already?"

"A Shaker 9, Changer: yes, and a Tinker with an explosive personality. I'm looking to recruit about four more. One… Isn't ready yet and may never be. The others are you, a girl from New York, and a girl I'm going to need to sound out first."

Amy sent the girl beside her an amused look. "Did you count yourself twice?"

"What? No. We totally count as separate people for things like this."

"I'll think about it," Amy sighed. "Maybe I'll help out or something, but I don't think I'll have time to do much. Not all of us can just quit school."

"Well, you could… But I won't push."

Amy appreciated that. She got enough 'pushing' from Carol. "Is it okay if I tell Vicky?"

"Sure. Actually, why don't you call her and get her to come here. Alone. Then I can see her face."

Chuckling, Amy hit her speed dial for her sister. "Hey, I'm down at the beach not far from the Boardwalk. Can you come pick me up? … No, everything's fine. … Thanks, Vicky."

She put away her phone and, barely five minutes later, Vicky came barreling in from overhead.

Coming to a stop just above the sand, the blonde eyed her sister and the girl she was on a 'not a date' with. Didn't know Amy liked girls. Why didn't she say something? I guess that's why she was so awkward any time I set up those double dates, or introduced her to boys. Or maybe I'm overthinking it and it's really not a date and blondie there is just teasing. Either is possible, really.

"Hey Big V," the spider-themed cape waved.

Vicky responded automatically, "Hey, Little V."

Widow's lips quirked up into a smirk. Amy looked to be holding in a laugh. Vicky… Went back over what had just happened. "No."

"Yeah," Amy confirmed with a nod.

That was all the prompting Vicky needed to launch herself at Missy, scooping the smaller girl up in her arms and laughing as she spun them around. "We thought we'd lost you!"

"Well, I did kind of try to lose myself," Missy admitted.

"This is great! We should tell—"

"No one."

Vicky blinked, pulling away from Missy and setting her back on the ground. "I'm not 'back,' V. I have my reasons, but I'm not coming back, except as Widow."

"But… What about the team?"

"Like I told Dean, I can't do it any more. Not that team. Not under Piggy or the PR Team. I'm working on putting my own team together."

Looking between her friend and her sister, and seeing her sister nod in confirmation, Vicky sighed. "You'll hang out and team up with us though, right?"

"Sure. As long as the Wards aren't involved."

Vicky nodded at that before turning a teasing grin on her sister. "So, you're not really gay."

Amy palmed her face and groaned while Missy laughed. Having enough, Amy let out a frustrated noise and kicked sand at her sister and their friend. "I don't know!" she yelled, causing the laughter to die down.

Taking in a deep breath, Amy let it out in an explosive sigh. "I don't have a problem with guys. I actually like them. I mean, the right guy with a handsome face, a nice ass, and a six pack? Yum."

"Then why don't you like any of the guys I've introduced you to?"

"Because your taste in men is shit!" Amy admitted.

Looking hurt, Vicky turned to look at Missy for denial. Instead, the girl nodded. "It really is, V. I cringe a little every time I'm exposed to one of the idiots you think would be a decent match for Amy. They all follow the same type: moderately wealthy, self-absorbed, pretty fuckboys."

Looking like she wanted to add more, Missy opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. Finally, she added, "Like Dean."

"Dean is not—"

"No, he's not. Not entirely. He's not self-absorbed. He's the exact opposite. A Nice Guy. He's a genuinely decent guy, but he puts you on a pedestal and puts your wants first without consideration for his own. I should know, I watched that shit from the outside for three years, wishing it was me in your position. Thinking that I wouldn't be dumb enough to dump him because he said something dumb, or couldn't look up my ass and read my mind when I didn't even know what I wanted. I was… super jealous for the longest time."

With an aggravated sigh, Missy continued, "Then I left. Got out and met different people. Got laid. Figured out what I actually liked in a man, or a woman. Seeing him again today was just a reminder of all the things I've found I don't enjoy in a guy. You should figure out what it is you want, too. Because your taste in men is suspect at best."

Amy stared at Missy. "You're bisexual?"

The younger blonde rolled her eyes before turning a meaningful look on Amy. "I want you to think back to our conversation earlier and ponder real hard on why that could be. There's exactly one guy I'm interested in and we share girls."

Vicky had gone wide-eyed at that, wearing a dumbfounded look. Amy's face lit up in understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" Standing up, Missy stretched out and popped her back. "Alright, I'm going back on patrol. I'll send you both a text so you have my new number. Just don't say anything you don't want your parents seeing."

"Night, Little V," Vicky called.

"Night, Big V, Amy," Missy waved over her shoulder as she walked off down the beach.

"So…"

"Not now, Vicky. Take me home, please."