To Lyger 0: Leïla's parents aren't quite that old – maybe in their mid-thirties. Remember, immigrant communities tend to have more children and younger. And, I mean, it's not like there was all that much else to do during the Chaos…

"So… what do you do for fun?" Thierry raised an eyebrow, glancing to the side at Sacha, and took a long swig of his soda. The sun shone brightly around them as they walked down the sidewalk above the Seine, watching the crowd of people sitting and lying along the beach that had been set up along the riverfront below. In the crowd, Thierry could see a handful of his friends – Laurent and Marie; Jacque almost a block down from them, watching a group of lycée girls playing volleyball. A couple of smaller motorboats drifted past, moving upstream; on the front of one, three girls lay on towels, sunbathing. A little closer to them, Thierry noticed a few younger kids building a sandcastle close to the edge of the beach.

Were it not for the constant traffic noise from the street next to them, he could almost imagine that they were back in Deauville.

Finishing off his own soda, Sacha shrugged. "I… read, mostly," he answered, a troubled look on his face. "Ever since… well… this… I've been trying not to go outside – or at least not too much." He snorted humorlessly. "Actually, even before, I didn't go out all that much," he admitted.

Thierry cocked his head in surprise. "Really? That… sounds kind of boring, to be honest."

"Not really." Sacha glanced over the rail and down at the river. "Ondine and M. Damocles both have a lot of books, so I've been working through them, ever since I moved in there. Although Ondine seems to prefer more of the classics – especially Pride and Prejudice and the like. So I've read a lot more of M. Damocles' books. It's… interesting, seeing some of the things that he has. A lot of books about superheroes, and even a biography of Knightowl."

Thierry hummed. "That does sound interesting," he agreed, nodding. "I have to say, even though I've actually met Knightowl, I really don't know much of anything about him."

"It's a fascinating story!" Sacha told him eagerly. "Did you know that he fought in the Spanish-American War, both World Wars, and Korea? There's even some speculation that the Ghost of Haiphong was Knightowl in disguise."

"Who?"

"During the Vietnam War, there were a series of high-profile assassinations of Communist Party leaders: a couple of politicians, an industry coordinator, three military officers, even the undersecretary of the Communist Party," Sacha explained. "It's all in the book. No one ever claimed responsibility for it, but a couple of the wounds used sharpened blades, and the tip of a blade broke off in one of the victims' injuries. They could never prove it, but there's a conspiracy theory that it was from one of Knightowl's boomerangs. And someone saw a shadowy figure disappear into the harbor at Haiphong, just after the last attack. Right around the same time, a US Navy submarine was spotted by a Vietnamese coastal observer, slipping underwater."

"Seriously?" Thierry's eyes widened. "That's pretty crazy!"

Sacha nodded. "Of course, there were a number of Knightowl sightings in and around New York City, right around that same time, so it might not have been Knightowl after all," he continued. "And it would have been pretty wild for the US to send a superhero undercover like that to commit assassinations."

"I hope that's wild…" Thierry muttered under his breath. He grimaced. "When I agreed to do this, they never actually said that we could end up in a war like that. I don't know if I'd really have it in me to do something like that… assassinate foreign leaders…"

Sacha shook his head ruefully. "You and me, both," he agreed, looking down at his hand. "I'm having enough trouble wrapping my head around my powers, around the fact that I don't need to wear the collar anymore, without trying to imagine myself actually trying to kill!"

"Still," Thierry pointed out, clapping him on the back, "you did a really good job the other week. And in Lyon. I don't know how it felt for you, but from everything I saw, it looked like you were in complete control the whole time."

He grinned, seeming to straighten his back. "It… it felt good," he replied. "I was terrified the whole time – but it felt good."

As they continued down the sidewalk, following the river, Thierry rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to work out the tension that had set in after yesterday's training session. He had arrived at the Champ de Mars a little after dark, expecting to find King Monkey waiting for him. Instead, it had been Nabatala and Nyagwai'. That was when M. Damocles had told him that instead of being trained, his task for the evening as to train the other two. He had started off by sparring for a while with each of the girls in turn as a warmup, before having them spar together while he observed. In the weeks since he first started sparring with her, Nabatala had advanced rapidly, adapting well to fighting both with her harpoon and without it. Last night in particular, she had gotten in a couple of really good hits against the Owl – he rubbed the back of his shoulder, trying to hide a wince.

"You okay there?" Sacha asked, raising an eyebrow at Thierry.

He grimaced. "Just… hazards of the job," he replied. "Nabatala packs a mean punch when she wants to." Sacha quirked an eyebrow. "Training," Thierry added wryly.

"I see."

Thierry gave him a deadpan look as they paused at the corner next to a bridge, waiting for the light to change so they could cross the street. Leaning back, he ducked into the meager shade of a bus shelter, wiping the sweat off his brow. Below them, a boat with a short mast sailed beneath the bridge, as a ball flew out away from the sandy beach to land in the river. The boat turned slightly toward the floating ball, and a younger boy near the front leaned over the side to grab it. Thierry found himself leaning in that direction as the boy stretched, but the boy kept his grip on the boat and just barely managed to nudge the ball toward shore. Thierry relaxed, letting out a breath.

"You really can't turn it off, can you?" asked Sacha, giving Thierry a curious look. "Once you're a hero, you really can't stop. Like M. Damocles."

Turning to face him, Thierry opened his mouth to answer, only for the words to die in his throat as the screech of tires rang out. Thierry's eyes widened in shock as, behind Sacha, a car barreled across the oncoming traffic toward them out of control. Time seemed to stand still as the car careened toward them. Thierry could see someone in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tightly in both hands. He could see the burst front tire. The horn blared. The car bounced up onto the sidewalk, veering straight toward them. Without thinking, Thierry threw himself at Sacha, pushing him down to the ground, out of the way of the car. As they hit the ground, a screeching, rending noise rang through the air, only a few meters away from them. Hitting the ground, Thierry sprang to his feet and spun around to find the car a meter away from him, the front end crushed. The railing had slowed the car's crash, but it had itself been smashed to oblivion, with the front half of the car protruding through the guardrail and sticking out into the empty space beyond. The car wheels continued to spin at full speed.

"Are you okay?" Thierry called to Sacha, not taking his eyes off of the car.

"Y–yeah…" Sacha groaned, rubbing his forehead, and pushed himself up with one hand. "I'm–I'm good. What–?" He gasped, his eyes bugging out, and stared past Thierry's arm. "What the hell?"

Thierry's mouth set in a thin line, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The car tilted forward slightly, leaning forward a little more, pivoting around the spot where the undercarriage rubbed against the bottom of the railing. Below them, Thierry could hear screams from the Paris-Plage. He scrambled forward and spared a quick glance over the edge to find dozens up people staring up at the car, most without moving. As he watched, a couple slowly backed away… but not all. "We need to do something before it falls!" he called to Sacha.

Sacha blinked, looking at Thierry in shock. "What? I–I can't–"

Thierry grabbed Sacha's collar and pulled him over toward the bus shelter, pushing him up against the inner wall. "Look," he told him curtly. "You don't have time for second-guessing yourself. I get that this is hard for you. I get that you are afraid of losing control. Well if you look out there, you'll see a man who could be killed if his car falls. And maybe he was driving drunk and he deserves it; maybe he just blew a tire. Either way, the people below him who could get hurt, they don't deserve it. I know you can do this – just like Lyon, just like fighting those thugs last week. Now you need to focus, and do this thing!"

Sacha started, blinking, swallowed, and let out a breath. Setting his mouth in a thin line, he nodded firmly. "O–okay…"

Thierry nodded, letting out a breath, and turned his attention back to the car. It rocked once more, but still it remained wedged in place. He furrowed his brows intently. "Okay, all you have to do is pull him back – pull the car back far enough for me to open the door, and keep the wheels off the ground. I'll get the driver out and see if I can stop the accelerator before you have to put the front wheels down."

Sacha swallowed anxiously but set his shoulders and jutted out his chin. "Right. I can do this. Just… don't let the power get away from me…" he murmured, squeezing one hand into a tight fist and flexing his arm. The car rocked another time, but as it did so, it shuddered, the front rising the slightest bit as it slid backward. It began to rise a little higher into the air, wiggling side to side as Sacha lifted it.

Without hesitating, Thierry ran over to the vehicle the moment the front passenger door was clear and pulled on the handle. Long gouges across the door caught his eye, the metal around the door wedged tightly: the door refused to open. Gritting his teeth, Thierry tugged harder on the handle, pulling with all his might as a metal grinding sound assaulted his ears. The car shuddered and suddenly, with a pop, the door unlatched. The driver, dazed and confused, was the only one in the vehicle. Reaching across the seat, Thierry fumbled with the seatbelt for what felt like an eternity before finally pulling out one of his collapsible Owlets and sawing through the fabric to free the driver. Carefully, he eased the driver out of the seat – the acceleration stopped immediately – and eased him out of the car to lay on the sidewalk. Swallowing anxiously, Thierry glanced back toward Sacha, who gave him a nervous look from his hiding spot in the bus shelter, before crawling into the car. Pressing the brake, he shifted the vehicle into park and turned it off. With a thud, the car's wheels settled on the ground.

Thierry let out a breath, leaning his head back against the headrest.

"Maybe I don't want my own super-car or bike!" he muttered to himself.