Rhys frowned, then glanced at his phone. He re-read the code he'd gotten from James, and punched that into the number pad next to the door. The door clicked open, and Rhys ducked through the doorway, walking up to the fourth floor.

His visits to James' place should have been often enough that he remembered the code by now, but he always forgot for some reason.

He came to 407 and knocked. After a few moments, the door was opened for him, revealing the tired, but happy face of Saori Itamoto, and she smiled when she saw him. "Rhys. Welcome. James was waiting for you."

Rhys smiled back. "Hi, Auntie."

He stepped through, and the short Japanese woman gave him a hug. It always felt nice, even though Rhys was considerably bigger than Saori herself and she couldn't really get her arms around him anymore. He squeezed back, and after kicking off his shoes at the entrance, he followed the woman towards the living room, then took a left, charging through James' door instead.

"Here's Johnny!"

"Fuck off, Rhys," James said, completely unperturbed. He stood up, and clasped hands with Rhys, and patted each other on the back.

"How've you been?" Rhys asked, and James shrugged.

"Pretty good, all things considered."

"Oh, yeah, you finally asked out Liv, didn't you?" Rhys smirked. "And how did that go?"

"She left me an hour in."

Rhys laughed. "Unlucky, mate. Why did she leave?"

James frowned slightly. "Workplace emergency."

"Ah, that Firestorm in Narrabundah." Rhys nodded.

"Yeah. Unless it's yet another huge coincidence," James shrugged. "How's work?"

"Shit," Rhys replied. He'd gotten himself a new job at a nearby pizzeria for the summer, but the place was sketchy as hell. Rhys was looking into alternative employment as a result of that.

"Boys," Saori called from the kitchen. "Do you want to be in charge of buying dessert? I forgot to."

"Sure," Rhys said with a smile.

"Once Liv comes," James amended, and Rhys glanced at him. "Said she'd be here by half-past-five, so… about twenty minutes from now."

"You invited her?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"Nah. Just didn't think you'd have the balls."

James snorted. "Stop trying to wind me up. It's not going to work."

"Anyway. You said you got the newest Smash Bros. game." Rhys made grabbing motions with his hands. "Give it to me."

James smirked as he booted up the Nintendo Wii, and proceeded to kick Rhys' ass. It was nice, having some mundane fun with sanitized violence. The twenty minutes flew by and there was a ring of the doorbell. Rhys and James glanced at each other, then with a grin, the former jumped off the sofa and ran to the door. James shook his head, and forced himself into a calmer walk, despite his inner excitement.

"Olivia! Why, you must have come to the wrong house," Rhys could be heard saying.

"Rhys, fuck off," James called. "Hey, Liv."

"James," Liv smiled. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Hey, we're friends."

"Just friends?" Rhys sang. "Maybe more than friends? Friends with benefits?"

"Christ. With that kind of attitude, no wonder Emily rejected you," Liv snarked, and Rhys pressed a hand to his heart. "Hi, Miss Robinson."

"Itamoto," Saori corrected, with a hint of a scowl. Liv cringed at her mistake, but Saori brightened immediately. "Or you can just call me Saori. Or Auntie, even. That's what Rhys calls me."

Liv smiled shyly. "Thanks, Auntie."

Saori's smile widened ever so slightly. "I'm going to need you kids to do something for me. I forgot to buy dessert, so I need you to pop over to the store and get something. Here." She slapped twenty dollars into Liv's hand. Liv blinked. "You seem a lot more trustworthy than the boys," she confided, and Rhys shot her a dirty look.

"I am trustworthy," Rhys said indignantly. "I have a five star rating on Airbnb."

"I'd give you three at most," Saori replied, and Rhys squawked. "Now get, all of you. Don't be out too late."

Liv stepped back outside, while Rhys grumbled and James smiled at her. Liv smiled back, then looked at each of them. "So, where do we go?"

"Market's about a fifteen minute walk from here," James said.

"And what should we get?"

"We should get a cheesecake," Rhys suggested, and Liv raised an eyebrow.

"You seem like a chocolate cake kind of person."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you're a child." Liv imagined Rhys smearing chocolate all around his mouth, and decided it was quite fitting.

"Wow, okay. I could make a joke about body image issues and celery sticks, but I suspect you'd lynch me if I tried."

"Probably would," Liv said breezily. "What do you want, James?"

He shrugged. "Cheesecake sounds good."

"What about your mum, then?"

He frowned slightly. "Also cheesecake? She's not picky, but she doesn't like things that are overly sweet."

"Alright. Since it was your mum who gave us this money, let's get something she'd like."

Rhys nodded at the wisdom of that statement while James made a noise of assent, and the three of them began walking towards the shopping center. The afternoon sun was still sizzling on their skin, and the light in their eyes. James covered his brow with his hand, staring into the still-blue sky. His eyes lingered on Liv a little longer than he might have liked. She dressed fairly simply - Liv clearly enjoyed matching various articles of clothing like coats and boots, but neither were particularly desirable in the summer - in a pair of denim shorts and a baggy shirt that reached down to her thigh, almost concealing her shorts. Her straight blonde hair had been recently brushed, and was loose, swaying at the small of her back. Her legs were toned and fairly muscular, not unlike those of a short-distance runner. She was… very attractive. James found himself swallowing discreetly as he forced himself to turn away from her frame, inspecting the empty fields of long gold-green grass that shivered under the light breeze.

"So," Rhys asked, "what does your job involve?"

"Serving coffee," Liv replied almost immediately, and James frowned, wondering if his guess had been incorrect.

"And you serve coffee in the evenings too?" Rhys asked. James didn't need to look at his face to know that he was wearing his trademark smirk.

"I work at a restaurant."

"Hm," Rhys hummed. "And you're absolutely certain your job doesn't involve searching and rescuing civilians trapped underneath-"

Liv's hand had snapped out and grabbed a fistful of Rhys' shirt at the collar, and she glared at him. James paused. It was mildly terrifying, but he could also see a measure of fear in Liv's eyes. Rhys had stopped as well, raising his hands.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone," Rhys said, sounding utterly unperturbed.

Liv slowly relaxed her grip on the fabric, letting her arm fall. She looked a little lost. "Please don't," she finally said, in a quiet voice. "It's… it's all I have."

Rhys blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Seriously. I won't tell anyone. Neither will he, because he's a cape too."

Rhys pointed at James, and Liv slowly tracked his finger to look at James. James fidgeted uncomfortably under her disbelieving gaze. "Seriously? No shit?"

"No shit," Rhys said. "Not a villain, if that was what you were thinking."

"Thank God." Liv stared at James. "Who are you then?"

"Wisp," James and Rhys said at the same time, and Liv blinked. She glanced between them, seeming incredulous, but neither of them allowed their faces to betray their emotions.

"Now you're pulling my leg."

"Have you ever seen Wisp, Liv?"

"No, but, she's a girl, right?"

"We have our very own Tinker on the Canberra Heat, you know," James said casually. "Not that difficult to alter our voice."

Liv stared at him, then at Rhys, both of whom were doing their level best not to reveal any of their inner emotions on their face; eventually, Liv made a sound of disgust, threw her hands in the air and stomped away. Rhys and James glanced at each other and shared a smirk.

"Slipstick!" Liv whirled around suddenly, snapping her fingers and pointing at James in one fluid motion. James pointed at himself in a 'who, me?' gesture, and Liv nodded, more to herself than to him. "There have been relatively few vigilantes in Canberra, one of them was Fox and now he's gone. That must make you the one that's not gone." Her face fell. "I liked Fox. I wonder if he's…"

"He's not dead," James said, and Liv stared at him.

"How do you know?"

"Who do you think trained me?"

Liv continued to stare. Rhys, too. This was new information to either of them, it seemed.

"You got trained by Flying Fox?" Rhys said incredulously, taking care to keep his voice low, not that there was anyone around. James shrugged. "What's he like?"

"Pretty chill, most of the time," James said. "When he was actually training me, though, I contemplated suicide on more than one occasion."

"What, did he make you do a Rocky-style montage, or…?"

"He printed out worksheets and made me solve them," James said flatly, and Liv gave out a bark of startled laughter.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"I mean, it was only the one time, but…" James shrugged. "He also made me get a first aid certificate, and stuff like that."

"I mean, that's kind of a necessity," Liv said.

"Oh, yeah? What do they teach you in superhero school?" Rhys asked.

"They teach us combat training, first aid, de-escalation training." Liv ticked off her fingers. "They also teach us the correct way to coordinate with the police, and rescue crew."

"Do they teach you how to go on catwalks and smile for the cameras?"

Liv rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she grumbled. "Back when I had braces they didn't want me to smile with my teeth so that I wouldn't look too young and seem like the government is forcing children to fight. Which, I mean, is what they're doing, but they didn't want to give off that image."

"They've put a lot of effort into this," James commented.

"Wisp was made to wear raised platforms when she was younger so she wouldn't seem as short, as young," Liv added. "I think Alloy said that when he was younger they wanted him to make a full-face helmet so he'd look more like futuristic super-soldier than Spy Kids."

James snorted. "Spy Kids."

"Dude, you haven't seen pictures of Alloy when he was younger. He had these huge goofy front teeth," Liv giggled. "You definitely got the Spy Kids vibe from him back then. Didn't help that he had a magnetic strip on his back that carried his Tinkertech lunch-box."

"Damn," Rhys laughed. "And he just showed them to you?"

"Alloy's a very laid-back person."

"Maybe I should pretend to be a cape and sign up," Rhys said, glancing at James. James gave him two thumbs up and an encouraging nod. "That way I can hear all these stories for myself."

Liv snorted. "We get at least one fake claim every day from a so-called Parahuman, you realize," she said. "Some shady hobo comes in claiming they've got future sight, or a kid thinks they've got magnetism powers when really they just don't shower often enough to the point their body's a bit sticky."

Rhys and James cringed at that.

"But maybe they'll believe you if I vouch for you," Liv smirked at Rhys. "What's your superpower?"

"I'm pretty good at pissing people off?"

"We already have Duke for that."

"Yeah, he's totally an asshole," Rhys said. "He's my personal hero."

"Of course he would be," Liv sighed.

The shopping district was sprawled out across several blocks, dominated by wide but squat, single- or double-level buildings that housed supermarkets, pharmacies, bookstores and other retail stores on the inside, and smaller stores - restaurants, fast food, and so forth - accessible from the outside. Many of hte smaller storefronts were closed for the national holiday, though the bigger ones were open well into the night. Not many shoppers today, on account of them probably being home and throwing a barbecue with their family or friends or something. Liv led them inside one of the buildings and frowned.

"All the bakeries and stuff are closed," she reported, and James looked around. That was true.

"Well, what can you expect?" He shrugged. "We'll just go to Coles."

They entered one of Australia's biggest supermarket chains, and went to the freezer aisles, looking for desserts. The frozen cheesecakes were kinda small for a special occasion like today, so Rhys voted to purchase a combo of apple crumble and vanilla ice cream instead. This was met with enthusiastic agreement from the other two, and they did precisely that, and Rhys snagged a bottle of Coca-Cola on the side. After going through the self-checkout, the three of them began to walk home, with Rhys pressing the ice cream to his cheek to cool himself down.

"You'll melt it unnecessarily," Liv pouted.

"We're gonna stick in the freezer for two hours anyway," Rhys retorted. "Nothing wrong with what I'm doing."

Liv harrumphed and turned away. Nobody was out today, although it didn't feel particularly lonely - rather, the atmosphere was relaxed. The gangs had been quiet, for maybe a week, almost two - people were in a celebratory mood and the three of them were free to discuss whatever they wished without fear of being overheard.

"So how long have you been working?" James asked. "You debuted pretty early, right?"

"March 2007, yes," Liv confirmed. "My legal issues were a clusterfuck, though, so it took like three months to officiate all of this stuff. In reality I've been with Parahuman Law Enforcement since December of 2006."

"Long career. Almost as long as Duke," Rhys mused. "How long has the Man in the Mirror been around?"

"Mirror Man debuted in… January of last year, I think? So he's been on the scene almost two years now," Liv said. "Wisp debuted about three months before Mirror Man did."

"So what does Mirror Man actually do?" Rhys asked. "I've read and heard about it… I don't really get it."

"He's a Thinker," Liv replied. "He can memorize and catalogue movements that other people make, hence the mirror theme. So he can watch a martial artist for a few minutes, and download all the information into his brain Matrix-style. Doesn't mean he knows how to fight, though, he knows the movements but he has to learn to string them together in the correct sequence."

"Damn," Rhys whistled. "That's actually pretty cool. I'm a fan."

"Doesn't apply to just combat, either. He's insanely skilled at origami now, for example," Liv said with a chuckle. "And he can do a perfect impression of the Terminator from the first movie. You know, the really jerky, early-CGI one? And Robocop, too. He likes to do impressions when he's drunk, it's pretty funny."

They returned to James' apartment, where Saori greeted them. The dining table was packed with finger foods she'd made; a platter of sashimi, tuna and salmon and kingfish, a bowl full of deep-friend shrimp, another of onion rings and the like. There were a few dishes that James had prepared himself before his friends came over. All in all, it was an impressive collection, especially from his mother, who was undoubtedly exhausted from her work life.

"Wow," Liv breathed. "This… wow."

"Looks great, Auntie," Rhys chimed in with a genuine smile. "Thanks for making it all."

Saori smiled, tired but pleased. "James helped."

Liv turned to James accusingly. "You cook?"

James shrugged.

"He'll probably cook something for you on Valentine's," Saori commented blandly, as if speaking of the weather. Rhys snorted violently as James turned red and Liv blanked as if her thoughts had been entirely replaced with an image of a pinwheel spinning. "I was thinking we could watch a movie or two after we eat. Then we can have noodles at midnight."

"Sounds great," Rhys said. "Can we watch Black Scion?"

"You want to watch a film that involves a kid inherits powers from a dying superhero that wears all-green and is called Spirit, to fight Scion who turned evil because of evil Tinker shenanigans."

"Hell yeah."

Saori was speechless for a moment, then shook her head. "No. I call the veto on that one. I do have a nice collection of Japanese and Korean horror films that I haven't gotten around to…"

Rhys gasped in not-so-mock horror, as James sniggered. "Do you not like horror films?" Liv asked.

"Masochists, the lot of you," Rhys scowled.

They settled on a compromise, eventually - Rhys disliked horror, especially the paranormal kind, but none of them were in the mood for Black Scion. Instead, they ended up watching a thriller, and a dark comedy afterwards to lighten it up a little. The food was good, and James felt himself happier than he could recall in recent memory. Liv was starting to become friends with his mother, Rhys was a strong, reliable presence as usual. When they neared midnight, Saori pulled up a clock on the Internet and they counted down together.

At zero, they began hearing fireworks popping in the distance. Saori and Rhys stared at the only couple in the room rather expectantly, while the couple in question fidgeted awkwardly.

Still, all was good.

Jason was a free man, but also a poor man.

He would bunk with his mates, but a couple were still in jail, and the others had wives who no longer wanted anything to do with him. So, while it was less than ideal, he was bunking at his older sister's apartment. The apartment that was spartan, cold, and dark, lacking in any sort of homeliness. His sister, to his knowledge, rarely returned here. The only furniture she really had was a bed, a sofa-bed, and a work-station with a laptop and a few other things.

No TV to watch movies on, and sis wouldn't let him use her laptop to look at memes. Instead, all he had was awkward silence and a few tattered books on a shelf near the work-station that wasn't some sort of scholarly literature, like commentaries on communism and shit like that. No decorations whatsoever. Jason understood why his sister didn't have any little knick-knacks or mementos around, but that didn't mean he could tolerate the doom and gloom of this place.

"I'm bored," he said for the upteenth time.

"Read a book," Mags replied stiffly from the kitchenette. "God knows you need it."

"Ouch." Jason placed a hand on his heart. "All your books are boring, anyway."

"No, they're not."

"Yeah, they are. You don't even have any saucy romance novels."

"Those kind of books are for degenerates."

"Yeah, I mean, I agree, but that doesn't mean you can't be exciting in other ways." Jason stood up again and ran his eyes through the now familiar motion of inspecting the spines of the various books. "I mean, look at this. War and Peace? The Brothers Karamazov? Where's your sense of, you know, fun?"

"I don't care much for fun."

"That's because you've never experienced actual fun. You have to unwind, sister."

"Unwind, and end up an irresponsible, homeless criminal like you?"

Jason winced. "I… God. Why does everything have to be an argument with you? I'm just saying you're stressed and need a way to de-stress. That can't be that hard to understand, right?"

"I don't need any de-stressing," Mags said. "I'm doing fine."

"You don't even bother to use makeup to conceal the bags under your eyes, to show up at the workplace that gives those things to you. You're running on fumes, sis. This one time, you're definitely wrong."

Mags turned around and glared at him. "You don't know anything about me."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure I do, considering I've lived together with you for…" Jason hummed. "Fourteen years?"

"Those fourteen years we spend together ended seven years ago. I've changed since then."

"Have you?"

That was a mistake.

Mags gripped her spatula tightly, until her knuckles turned white, her face similarly paling in rage. However, her mouth remained thinned and taut, and it was obvious she was restraining herself. "I have changed," she declared with some finality, and an undercurrent of anger.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Mags turned back to the cooking and didn't respond.

"I mean to say, you're not treating yourself enough. That's always been the case." Jason didn't really know how to word this so that Mags would listen to him. "You've done a good job so far, right? You deserve a reward. A bit of down-time."

"Perhaps. But I could also spend that time making sure people's lives are ruined by gangs." Mags began piling pasta into two identical bowls.

"Why are you home, then?"

"To check on you."

"What's the real reason?" Jason asked, teasingly.

"They gave me mandatory time-off."

"See? Your bosses clearly agree with me that you need some down-time."

"My boss is an idiot, and so are you." Mags pushed one of the bowls in front of Jason. Her cooking skills… they were as sharp as ever, it seemed. The spaghetti carbonara smelled very good. "Forgive me if I don't agree with your philosophies."

"Thanks for cooking, Mags."

Mags was silent for a bit, and began to eat instead of replying. Jason shrugged it off and tucked in himself. It tasted as good as it looked and smelled. Simple, but it had always been a favorite of Jason's as a kid.

"Your work schedule can't be healthy. You'll work yourself to an early grave."

"No, I won't. I get the recommended minimum amount of sleep for adults and get plenty of exercise. I also have a strict diet, with the necessary amount of nutrients for my body type."

Jason sighed. She didn't seem to consider the possibility of things like high blood pressure, stress, or even depression. He pointed the prongs of his fork at his sister, preparing his next statement within his mind while he swallowed a mouthful of pasta.

"I see your table manners haven't improved."

Jason set down his fork, then pointed his index finger at Mags. Mags stared at it, and rolled her eyes; Jason stifled a smile. Success! Mags was relaxing, even if just a little.

"You," Jason said.

"Me."

"You," Jason agreed. "You seem to be lacking understanding that a long life doesn't necessarily have to be miserable. You can live a long life while indulging in things that you enjoy doing or consuming. You're allowed to eat the chocolates that Duke probably gives you on Valentine's to get into your pants instead of throwing them out."

"I don't throw them out. That would be wasteful." She paused. "I give them to Alloy. He has a sweet tooth."

Jason palmed his face. "I cannot believe you."

"I don't particularly like chocolate, regardless."

"Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself that. Look, Margaret-"

Fuck, shit. Backing the hell out of there. Mags' face became stony when Jason called out her real name; he might have ruined all his progress in one single mistake. Jason hadn't spoken to Mags in a while, but he'd hoped that she might have gotten over that particular trauma just a little bit. Guess not.

"Sorry, Mags. I didn't mean to."

"Of course. I forgive you."

The way in which those words were spoken, so mechanical, so clinical. Jason suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine. Jason swallowed another mouthful as he considered what to say. The one good thing about trying to engage Mags in conversation was that she gave him plenty of time to think, without harrying him.

"Mags, the gangs seem to be more quiet these days. The last incident needing your attention was, what, that Firestorm guy? What happened with him by the way?"

"Don't know much about him," Mags admitted. "None of us could get too close because of his power, and we couldn't ID him. He disappeared in all the chaos. However, we did discover someone with similar powers had triggered in Mildura, and disappeared without a trace. It might be the same Parahuman."

"Mildura? That's quite the distance away."

"It is. It's strange."

"Well, anyway. The gangs have been quiet. Maybe they're in a celebratory mood too. I think it's okay if you relax a little bit, take some time off. Get some extra sleep if nothing else. I could take you out for dinner."

"And who will be paying for dinner?" Mags asked flatly. Right, Jason was penniless. Still, no amount of money was worth hearing Mags crack a joke. Jason snorted, and after a moment, forced himself to chuckle audibly in hope that she might join in. She didn't, but the corners of her lips did twitch. A partial success, then.

"You will, probably, but I can give recommendations on where to go. Do you like Indian?"

"Maybe some other time, Jason."

"Aw, come on. You always say that then hide inside a cupboard at the PLE headquarters so I can't remind you of it."

"I do like Indian."

Jason paused, his mind rapidly rewinding to about five seconds ago to make sure he heard that right. He plastered a smile on his face and beamed at her. "Great! Maybe we can go next week, or so."

"Might I make a request of you in turn?"

"Is my recommendations for decent food not worth dinner? Alright, shoot."

"I'd like you to join Parahuman Law Enforcement."

Jason paused. "I've received an offer already, but I also know that you've also heard me turn it down. Why ask again?"

Mags was silent. Instead she picked up the empty bowls, forks and spoons, stacked them, rolled up her sleeves and began to wash them. Jason stared at surface of the circular table, which was very small - his legs and Mags' legs were constantly getting tangled up - and covered in some places in minuscule drops of water after Mags had wiped it down to get rid of dust an hour ago. She finished scrubbing the dishes with the green side of a sponge and put them to dry on a drying rack.

Silence stretched.

"I'm lonely," she admitted.

Jason fought not to react. Confessions from his sister… more people had stepped on the surface of the Moon than Mags had admitted to any of her internal troubles. Jason slowly looked up at her, and left his stool to stand in the doorway of the kitchen.

To the public, she was the paragon of justice, representing the strength of the law. Her power - to stand Steadfast in the face of all adversary - was proof of that. Now, she stood, slightly hunched over the sink, her rolled-up arms folded under her chest, tight enough that it could be interpreted as hugging herself, her somewhat bland brown hair obscuring parts of her face. Under the shitty incandescent lamp of Mags' shitty apartment, she looked even more colorless, lifeless, than she already was.

A sudden cheering from outside startled both of them. Jason leaned back to check on the wall-clock that hung above the doorway he was standing beneath. "It's midnight," he said to Mags, who nodded once. "Happy New Year, sister."

"Happy New Year."

The figure covered in ill-fitting jeans and her bland, orange-and-white striped shirt remained a little hunched. Mags was a tall woman. Not as tall as Jason's six-foot-two, but not that far off either. The attempt to shrink in on herself was made all the more obvious.

"Hey, sis."

Mags' brown eyes peered out from under the loose strands of hair.

"You know, you're a bit of an uptight cunt-" Jason watched her grimace a little at his crudity, "but you're my sister. And the one person that I trust the most in the whole world."

She raised an eyebrow. "Even more than your jewelry-robbing friends?"

"Even more than them," Jason confirmed. He stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around his sister's frame. Mags stiffened under his touch, but slowly wrapped her own arms around his waist, the grip gradually tightening until Jason felt like he was a lifeguard being clung to by a drowning person. "You will always be my hero. Even if you didn't work for the government and wear costumes and punch bad guys in the face, you'll be my hero."

Mags was deceptively silent, burying her face in his neck.

"I love you, sis."

The dam broke, and Jason allowed Mags to sob into his shoulder. They stood there, for a long, long time as Mags struggled to empty herself of all the emotions that she'd kept bottled in. Jason could feel his shirt staining with her tears and snot, but he remained there. Like Mags had been for him and for the public under a different name, a bulwark to stop getting washed away by all the badness in the world.

The way they stood, under a dirty incandescent lightbulb, with Mags crying into his shoulder - it reminded him of a similar event from a long time ago.

Oh, yeah, Jason remembered. It was right after my lovely sister took a fucking axe to daddy dearest's skull.