Episode 3: Going Somewhere? Or, the Rallying of the Observers

Mallory dragged Rory down onto the lower floors Celene padding anxiously behind. Moments after the creature had gone, the normal flow of electricity was restored, and the elevator resumed its route. Which was good, because she didn't think Rory was going to be able to make the trip down the stairs. Broken ribs for sure.

"Good thing I'm in a hospital already," Rory chuckled, then wheezed. She peered forlornly back at the room they had left, where the machine had a slight dent but otherwise seemed unharmed. "I was going to lead that thing into charging the MRI. It's basically a giant magnet."

And the thing clearly had some sort of electrical properties. She nodded, patting Rory's shoulder soothingly. "It was a good plan." Not that it mattered now.

She still didn't know how Spindly Legs kept vanishing into thin air. It didn't make any sense. It had to go somewhere.

They untransformed, and Mallory lowered Rory's backpack for their third party-member to climb inside. "Sorry. Time to get back in the bag."

Celene grumbled, but since she fitted she sitted. Just Little Cat Things.™

They loaded off the elevator to the second floor, where she carried Rory about halfway down the hall before going after Carmen herself.

Things seemed to have calmed down. There was no longer that disruptive B-note ringing in the halls, but it didn't look like everything had gone smoothly. There was a nurse crying in the hallway, head in her hands. Flanks of others filed from room to room with clipboards like a procession.

When she saw Carmen, the girl was wiping red eyes, sweat glistening on her forehead. She looked positively wrecked. Still, she stood tall shoulders straight in a way that reminded Mallory that she'd spent more time as a soldier than she had. "Hey," she walked up to her as she neared, voice thin. "What happened? Did you beat it?"

Wish I had better news. She shifted awkwardly. "No. It disappeared. We're not even sure what it was doing—dude just plugged into the wall and then whammied us. If it was just looking for electricity, why come here? There's a power plant on the other side of the city."

Carmen groaned, bringing her hand to her forehead. "The outlets, of course."

Mallory took a step back. "Am I missing something?"

"It used the outlets as a conduit to access the medical equipment. Anyone who was plugged up to anything at the time of the attack is now comatose."

She stiffened. "Oh. Shit." Even the ER patients were probably hooked up to something. That had to be, like, everyone.

Carmen rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Luckily, the hospital is hooked up to two separate grids, and so half of the building was excluded."

She clenched her fist. And she'd been thinking they'd gotten off light. "That's still a hell of a lot of people." Not to mention whatever horror show had gone on in the rooms behind them.

Carmen followed her gaze, and her expression crumpled. "We saved some of them," she said, "but not all of them."

"I'm sorry." A moment of silence hung in the air, but the static of restlessness on her chest was writhing. "We've got to figure out what's going on here."

They all headed for the exit, nothing left to be done. Mallory thought at the last second to check on the intensive care unit, nervous about what a double dose of energy sucking. She also told Gwen she was going to come back, crap, she'd forgotten about that.

She flung open the shutters with more urgency.

The room was empty of anyone up-right.

The coma patients seem unchanged, on a positive note, but Gwen was nowhere to be seen. She left anyways. Mallory couldn't help but be annoyed; she'd had more questions she wanted to ask, and she didn't appreciate her very simple instructions being ignored anyways.

Frowning, she peered towards the beds. Maybe she could leave a note with this 'Gina' and instructing her to contact her back later. She examined the charts in the general area Gwen had indicated, looking to identify her friend. And the next one, and the next one.

After several moments, Mallory turned to a haggard nurse, suspicions building. "Excuse me," she huffed. "Which one of these patients is a 'Gina?'"

The woman paused, then shook her head, bags under her eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't believe a Gina has come in yet. We're working on transitioning the new patients in, but—"

Mallory had stopped listening.

There was not a single 'Gina' in this ICU.

She slammed her hands down on the side table, causing the nurse to jump.

Rory and Carmen, hovering awkwardly by the entrance, stared in at her. "Um. Girl, you good?"

Mallory shook from head to combat boots. "I've been freaking bamboozled!"


On the other side of the city, Narma carried her print-out to the gate. She tried her best to avoid getting any wrinkles in her finest kurti as she grasped her portfolio protectively to her chest. She held the paper out to the security guard working the hut. "I'm here for an interview."

He nodded her through, and she entered the gates.

The institute was very modern, all clean lines and soft, fashionable gray paints. She moved through the courtyard with a sort of awe, entering the building even though something inside her said nope, you are not meant to be here, they have called you by mistake.

"Welcome," said a young man by the entrance, typing away at his computer. He peered up to her, and she already felt underdressed compared to his designer glasses and crisp black suit. "How can I help you?"

She gingerly moved to the front desk, shaking the tension out of her shoulders. She was never this timid! She needed to buckle down and get with it if she wanted to impress these people. "My name is Narma Anand. I'm here for the internship? The interview, I mean. I haven't gotten it yet."

The clerk sat back, giving her a crisp nod. "Ah, I see. Mrs. Greenwood is expecting you on floor 4. Her office is straight back; you can't miss it. She should call you back when she'd ready for you."

She thanked him, and took the elevator up.

Holy crap, holy crap! This was actually happening! It seemed like a bit of incredible luck when the Institute had decided to expand their set-up to Seattle, but she never thought she'd have an opportunity like this. She didn't even know they had junior internships.

She walked briskly to the office at the end of the hall, passing mannequins in mid-dress in various styles as their stylists worked around them. About half of the space was actual office cubicles, the rest housing rows and rows of sewing machines. The building was so huge; she couldn't even image what all of the space was used for.

When she reached the office at the end, there were other people waiting. Interviews must have been running behind. She took a seat, mentally running through everything she wanted to mention to make a good impression.

After a few moments, one boy about her age exited the office, pausing before walking out. "Sarah Bowling, you're up. Narma Anand, you're next."

A girl with bright red hair got up behind her, walking stiffly into the office. Narma drummed her fingers, the nerves surfacing the longer she waited for her turn in the office. After a moment or two, she made up her mind and removed her phone from her pocket. After making sure it was on silent, she brought up the messenger.

Hey sorry if this timing is a little weird

Thing is, I got this interview at the fashion institute

Have you heard of it?

Anyway its now and I'm kind of freaking out

Her gaze lingered anticipatorially over the screen, wondering if it was too weird to be messaging Manuel about this. Sure, they'd spoken a lot at the shop, but they hadn't spoken outside that bubble. Actually, this was probably a mistake, just going off on him out of the blue, he probably thought she was super annoying—

Oh, hey there

I was hoping I would hear from you soon

Though, this isn't exactly what I was expecting

Narma took a breath. Okay, he didn't…seem annoyed? Just surprised, maybe.

Yes, sorry. I wanted to talk to someone about this

But I didn't want to mention it to my friends yet

In case it didn't work out. Jinxing it, you know?

Not that you're like a last resort!

You're great and your hair is excellent

Narma winced. Krishna!

you're just like an objective third party or something

I'm sorry, this is horrible

please forget I said everything I just said

so how is your morning? doing well?

lol alright, then, consider my memory wiped

a bit slow

you'd think we'd be busier on a Saturday morning

I'm an idiot; of course you're working right now!

just excuse me whilst I make myself a menace

trust me, I would much rather be talking to you than anything else

Heat reared its ugly head in her cheeks.

You cad; how could you, flustering me before

I'm meant to be making myself seem competent!

And what about you? A message from a pretty girl

out of nowhere and I am supposed to be

making some guys latte?

I'll be distracted all day!

I'm gonna sue

Narma giggled. She coughed as another girl in the office peered over to her, brow raised.

so, an interview?

yeah they got this fancy internship

it would look really good in my portfolio

but these guys are big dogs

and I'm trying to get it together but I feel like

I've been sitting in this office for eons

as often as you have that sketchbook in here?

I'm sure you're going to do great

if you can charm me, those guys stand no chance

I'm a steel wall, an absolute beacon of indifference

only wooed by superior skill

Oh, you wait for that date buddy, I'm show you wooing

"I'm show" you will

Confused, Narma ready back over the last message before flushing.

HUSH YOU

OH CRAP they just called me

Good luck.

She turned her phone off, smoothing her dress as she made for the office door.

Inside, a woman sat at a desk with her chair caddy-cornered, file folders spilling out over her desk. Photographs on the will behind showed dramatic, avant-garde pieces in bright jewel tones; from her research, Narma knew these designs to be the work of Mrs. Greenwood herself.

"Please close the door behind yourself."

At the woman's prompting, Narma reached behind and pulled the door shut with a soft click. Mrs. Greenwood had an impeccable 3-peice suit in glen check, with an emerald scarf that perfectly drew the eye. "Ms. Anand, I presume? I'm happy to see that you made it. With the timing of your application, it would seem that we almost missed you."

Yikes, mentioning the timing right off the bat? Not a good sign.

The woman stood, which Narma hadn't expected and maybe she was a little too enthusiastic shaking her hand. The hand was firm, and cool with age. "It's a real honor to meet you. I hope you'll understand that is not due to lack of interest. I wasn't aware of the position until very close to the deadline, I'm afraid. I'm just happy to be able to have this opportunity."

Mrs. Greenwood sat back down in her chair, gesturing over for Narma's portfolio. Taken aback, Narma slapped the folder into her hand, the file bowing under the weight. "Yes, these things do happen." She flipped open the folder, peering over stretches and photographs of her work.

Narma squirmed in the chair she'd taken, struggling to discern her reaction. Manuel's quip about being a steelwall of indifference came to mind.

"Your skill repertoire is quite impressive for your age," she said off-handedly. "I do want to touch base with you to make sure you understand the nature of this internship."

Narma raised her hands. "I know that this is going to be mostly a gopher position; I get that. A lot of completing orders, assisting designers in residence with their chores. Even so, I know how much weight a credential with your name on it would carry in anyone's portfolio. You are one of the most innovative design schools in the country, after all. I can only imagine how much even a temporary position such as this would have to teach anyone about the business." Thank goodness this woman seemed willing to give her a path to follow; if she kept going she was surely just going to keep tripping over herself.

Mrs. Greenwood eyed her, pulling out a couple of her designs.

She'd included a real mixed bag, though the majority of her work incorporated at least aspects of traditional fashion; a lot of saris and kurtis, salwar suits, of both more classic and loose design interpretations.

"I glad you understand the significance of this opportunity, You may have noticed, in the application online, we did not request a cover letter or statement of intentions—that is because our acceptance into these limited positions is as much based on passion as it is portfolio. I've found that that quality is much easier to gauge in person. Tell me. You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, even on the limited notice. What are your long-term goals in the industry?"

Whoa, this was actually a lot more intense than she'd been anticipating, but she got it. There had to be tons of people going for this. "I…want to make a name for myself locally first, possibly opening a shop? But long-term I would want to work internationally. Though I would still want to be based here in Seattle. Of course, if somehow those things happened in the opposite order, I'd be just as happy." She chuckled a little, hoping the frog in her throat would get some freaking chill and settle already.

"Is there a reason in particular you'd want to remain based in Seattle? I'm curious about your motivations."

A dozen things flashed through her mind: sharing lunch with Rory on the roof in middle school; her parents, who would be heart-broken if she moved to New York or L.A; Manuel, the conversation they'd left off with his cute little smiley face. Fighting with the girls, too, the Egeria scepter in her tote bag. They needed her here to defend against whatever threats might gravitate to them. It struck her suddenly: how long would they be bound to that task? Would they be obligated to fight forever, their true identities secrets they would take to their graves, until whatever next life might await them?

Narma wanted to scream. This was supposed to be an interview for a summer job. It wasn't meant to give her an existential crisis!

Mrs. Greenwood frowned at her. "Ms. Anand?"

"Sorry," Narma burst out. "Just a big question." She decided to stick with the most business-oriented reason she wanted to stay. No reason to drag her prospective boss into her life drama, though it just kept getting more dramatic. "I really think that the local fashion scene is starving for Indian traditional styles. Not to mention all that the Indian cultural fashion as to offer for the world in general."

She really wanted to say 'middle-eastern,' and hated that she had to censor her meaning. In the current day and age, there was too much distrust; she never knew how something as innocent as a fashion-based cultural exchange might set some people on edge.

She wrung her hands in the side of her kurti. She hoped Mrs. Greenwood wasn't one of those people.

She clarified, "I think that having more staples of such in Seattle would provide an outlet of integration for the Indian families living here. I know my mother always has to order her clothes from outside the city because the boutiques that offer Indian clothing locally only offer them in very limited sizes and styles. That's the major direction I'm coming from, I guess."

The woman tucked a silver lock behind her ear. She had the aura of some kind of fashionable wizard, wise and intimidating. She nodded slowly. "I have to say, I like what I've seen here, and I think there will certainly be a spot for you here in the program."

Narma's heart leapt in her chest. Wait, she was just going to decide right now? "T-that's fantastic! Thank you so much for this opportunity!"

This had to be some kind of too-good-to-be-true scenario, right? There's no way they would just accept her straight out.

Mrs. Greenwood smiled. "I appreciate that you have such a clear vision; that's unusual for someone so young in the business. I think that this internship is going to be a great boon for you as you start looking into opening your own business. We've also got some great business seminars that will be taking place over the summer you might be able to sit in on, and our science division has some exciting guests. My one piece of advice is that you make the most of the experience. I look forward to working with you."

No catch.

They shook hands, and Narma exited the building in a sort of delirium. Once she had floated through the exiting gate, her senses caught up with her and clutched her fists close to her chest. "YES!"

She scrambled to pull out her phone, tucking her portfolio into her message bag. She brought up her chat with Rory.

Girl

GIRL!

You'll never guess what just happened!

Oh no! did you get caught in the blackout too?

Narma stopped. The smile slowly dropped of her face.

No?

Why? What happened?


The following morning was bright white and semi-cool. It was hard to believe that this was the same city that had poured rain the previous night, the trees dripping, the desperate hospital staff working through the night.

Carmen had thought about going back after they had left at midday, though she wasn't actually sure they allowed people to volunteer outside of an emergency situation.

Breathless, she pushed her bike through the park, the obliviously beautiful morning stretching out before her in shades of green. The package she needed to deliver for her father hung in a red drawstring bag from her shoulder, after-rain curling upward as fog on the path. Her father always had a million of these little tasks, and she could never bring herself to refuse when he asked. He had an important business to run—he reminded her everyday—and it felt like these errands were her own duty to the household.

If she did suggest an assistant, the way Narma had suggested...wouldn't that make her ungrateful?

She'd left the house pedaling but it was so lovely that she had abandoned the bike, desperate for the fresh air and morning calm like a dying man running towards an oasis. She pushed the bike along the path, taking in the sunlight as it filtered through the park trees, leaving lacy patterns on the walkway.

Out of nowhere, pushing the bike became a lot more difficult—stopping, Carmen looked down to see the chain broken, one of the links detached from the whole. The entire chain had become a tangled mess. No wonder!

She could probably fix this, but she would at least need a screwdriver if she didn't have to replace the chain entirely. It seemed she was going to be walking home no matter what. "Man…"

"Sorry about that."

Carmen blinked, turning to peer at the path behind her.

There was a girl sitting on a nearby bench. She was looking to the sky, but she seemed to be the only one around, so it had to have been her who had spoken.

Carmen took a step back towards her, perplexed. "Were you…talking to me?"

The girl's gaze dropped, and she turned towards Carmen, though she still wasn't looking right at her. "Yes," she said. Straight-forward, at least. "Your bike. I didn't mean to break it. I wanted to talk to you, so I threw a stick into the wheel to stop you. I'm sorry." Her inflection was sort of…hm. Flat? Paired with the highness of her voice, it reminded Carmen of the detached pleasantness of a flight attendant.

Carmen looked down at her defunct bike. That was just…blatantly untrue? She was sure she would have noticed the girl earlier if she had moved. Also, the likelihood of her being able to throw a stick with enough force and accuracy to break her bike chain? At that trajectory, even? Maybe not impossible, but very, very unlikely. Why lie about it?

Carmen frowned, watching the way the girl's gaze shied away from her own. Avoiding eye contact? Hm.

It occurred to Carmen that perhaps this girl was just very, very confused. Slowly, she said, "It's…alright. No harm done." No reason to argue whether this girl had actually committed the crime she had confessed to.

It was clear how Carmen had missed her at first, given how easily she blended in with the scenery. Her hair was dyed a pastel, spring-green color Carmen didn't know hair dye came in. She seemed immersed in the atmosphere: no phone, no books to read, no music. Just sitting there. Carmen noticed two of her fingers worrying a bead on the fringe of her shirt back and forth, back and forth.

Carmen glanced around the park, but there was no other movement except the breeze rustling the foliage around them. "Are you here...all alone?"

Maybe it was a weird question. The girl seemed to be around Carmen's age; there shouldn't have been a problem with her sitting in the park by herself. Still, something about it didn't sit right with Carmen. Perhaps it was a harmony thing? She just got the sense this girl shouldn't have to be alone.

The girl kicked her legs, looking back the way Carmen had come. Framed by morning mist, a plasticine structure sat tucked in along the side of the path, near the center of the park. "I was supposed to be spending the day in the greenhouse, but then I didn't want to be there anymore so I came out here." Eyes brightening, the girl suddenly looked Carmen in the face and thrust out her hand. "My name is Sylvia."

Even now, Sylvia's eyes twitched, seemingly wanting to dart away. She must have really been trying, if she was enduring something that made her so uncomfortable. Besides, even if this was one of the most unexpected first conversations Carmen had had, the girl seemed nice enough. Carmen reached out and firmly shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Sylvia. I'm Carmen."

They stopped shaking after a little too long. Sylvia grinned, her gaze darting away for a long moment before snapping back, eyes glittering. She said, still over-enunciating, "Would you like to see my beetles?"

Carmen leaned back a bit, eyeing the pocket of the girl's overalls warily. "Um. Beetles?"

Sylvia examined the bench around her with a bright smile, before slowing. She looked back up, face fallen. "I don't have them with me."

Whew. She could admit she was a bit relieved. She forced a smile. "Another time, then."

The girl's gaze drifted away again, as if she were seeing into somewhere else. She tucked a long, wavy lock behind her ear in a delicate motion.

Perhaps she was just lonely.

"You look bothered."

Carmen blinked, bringing herself back to the conversation shed been having. As she registered the girls words, something in her deflated. "Oh...do I?"

"You have a really discordant aura," she stated matter-of-factly. "You should talk about it." She paused. "If you want."

"Oh. I just...I guess I'm just stressed out about...I don't know. It's just personal issues." Carmen cocked her hip, leading her bike to lean against the bench. She wasn't totally comfortable talking to a stranger about this; she hadn't fully delved into the way she was feeling now herself. But maybe the fact that this was someone who didn't really know might make it easier?

"I suppose it's because I have this pressure on me," she pantomimed the crushing weight in her chest into something literal, bringing her hands to press down towards her. "And it's not even something I care about."

Pointedly, Sylvia skootched over. Carmen flopped onto the bench. "What kind of pressure?"

At the dinner table the previous night, and with increasing frequency, her father had brought up how he wanted her to adopt the business. That was already a thought that brought the anxiety crawling up her back, as spending more time with the arrogant, wandering-handed crew of entrepreneurs was just the last thing she wanted for herself. Every day, though, her father put so much effort into his work. She knew he had made sacrifices. Who was she to throw those away?

Still, any mental ideations of herself going down that path just…hit a wall. It was a no-through road, a future she couldn't even fathom undertaking.

"My father is a prevalent businessman," she explained. "And he just…want me to take after him? But I'm not interested in doing that at all." She sighed. "You know. Just family things."

"Family." Sylvia didn't elaborate, but she seemed to muse on the word, peering off into the gardens with a bit more distance.

"I think I want to be a nurse," she said suddenly, and found it was true. It had been lingering in the back of her mind all morning. When she'd been rallied in to help with the life support patients, she hadn't been able to help all of them.

But she had helped some. It was quite possible there were some people alive right now that wouldn't have been if she hadn't been there, and that knowledge spoke to something profound in her. It felt similar to the satisfaction she'd come to find in fighting as Sailor Concordia, but it was helping people without the violence.

A knot of familiar anxiety tightened in her gut. "My father would be so disappointed, though. He's been talking about this for years."

"Hm." Sylvia tilted her head consideringly, shade from the trees above falling across her face. "It sounds like he's been doing a lot of talking. Have you been talking? To him, I mean."

Carmen crossed her hands in her lap. From above, a leaf became dislodged by the spring breeze and floated down to graze her hand. She caught it. "I'm not sure how to, actually."

Sylvia remained stalwart and calm beside her. She brought a finger to her chin. "Hm. It sounds like you should work on that. Figuring out how to talk, before anything else. That's important."

"…I suppose you're right," Carmen assented. Wondering what you wanted to do when you grew up—that was normal. A basic question. She had been trying to work on things, but if she wasn't able to talk to her father about normal problems, how was she supposed to address the more…foreign doubts she'd been struggling with? She wasn't sure she knew how to put those into words, either.

She jumped, and looked down to see Sylvia's hand patting her own.

"There. I'm lending you some positive vibes."

Carmen, caught off guard, giggled. It was silly, but that actually did make her feel a little bit better. "Oh, well thank you, then." Her eyes drifted back to the bag hanging off her shoulder. "…I really do need to get this package delivered soon, though."

Sylvia nodded. "Thank you for sitting with me. My sister worries when she has to leave me alone, because she has important work to do. She will be happy." Her head lifted, eyes focusing on Carmen a final time. "I'm sorry. Can you take me to the bus stop? I'm a bit turned around."

Carmen led Sylvia to the bus stop without a lot of additional words exchanged. Sylvia had given her a lot to think about, and she appreciated that she was somewhat able to better articulate what had been bothering her. "Thanks for stopping me earlier," Carmen said as they pulled up under the stop's veranda. "I think I needed to talk things through, even if I didn't know it."

Sylvia folded her hands before herself, rubbing the pads of her fingers in a soothing motion. A little ways behind them on the street, a bus peaked over the hill. "Perhaps we will meet again sometime. I can show you my beetles."

Carmen's smile tightened. Okay, so Carmen still wasn't totally sold on seeing any beetles. "Y-yeah, maybe."

Above them, the tiny light of the overhang flickered.

The bus came and went, Carmen waving goodbye as the vehicle pulled away. Blowing out a breath, she resumed the route she'd originally been on, pushing her bike up the street to the nearby post office. The transaction was smooth, Carmen handing over the little red box inside her bag and getting one back in return. As she was headed back out to her trashed bike, though, something changed.

Ahead, the sounds of traffic horns had begun to blare. Curious, she wheeled her bike up the street to see a massive traffic jam, a few cars caught in the middle. Examining the scene, she could see why: overhead, the traffic lights were mostly dead, occasionally flickering all three colors at once. Oh, the power must have gone out.

Her pulse jumped speed when the implications of that caught up with her. Oh, no, the power went out.

She had barely pulled out her phone and typed a quick message to the team (power outage near Cal Anderson / stand by) when a buzzing noise racketed through the area, and she immediately had to upgrade it.

Monster sighting at Broadway and e st. johns

Requesting backup

Anyone there?


When in doubt, go to the police.

Mallory was plenty familiar with the station, and they recognized her enough when she walked in that she heard an officer in the back of the room groan. That's right, it's me, fucker. Be afraid. The interior of the office was appropriately cop blue and she approached the security agent with hands distinctly out of pocket and swagger enough to tell they she wasn't there about to take shit. "Good afternoon, Jerry."

The guard, Jerry, took a sip of his coffee and quirked a bushy eyebrow at her over the rim of his bifocals. His voice was rough-edged and weary. "You know you're not supposed to just waltz in here, Ms. Dunbar. Especially with the Needle business a few weeks ago. Needless to say you're still on our radar." The twitching bags beneath his eyes revealed a barely restrained conniption. She couldn't help but be a little proud that her appearance was able to trigger such a primal response. That's how you know you've made an impression, Mallory; visceral dread.

She sniffed. "And I respect that, Jerry. Constant vigilance. I've just noticed you boys have been a little shifty about the anomaly on the news. I have to wonder what you know about the power outages around the city. Seems like that thing keeps showing up."

At any other time, she would have said it was too much of a gamble to go directly to the source when that source had the ability to arrest you. But this was vital information she was looking into.

They were on the suspects list. She needed to know how much they knew.

Jerry narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe there have been any reports of a second outage."

She scoffed. "People talk, Jerry. And my cousin just happens to work at the hospital downtown. She didn't want to say anything, but people tend to worry when you come home from work crying your eyes out. They ask questions." The lie slipped seamlessly from her lips. In all her time as a paranormal investigator, even before she had moved more to the "paranormal" side of that descriptor than the "investigator," she had learned that nothing was more useful than a convincing lie. You're going to have to do better than that, Jerry. "So," she said. "What's going on in this city?"

Jerry sat back, his beer belly protruding from under the table. He was the picture of a man under constant stress. "Look, you know even if we had a theory, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The incident—"

"Incidents," she insisted, glowering over her glasses.

"Incidents," he grumbled, "are under police investigation. That's confidential, understand? I'm not going to spill anything just because some girl thinks she's Jacque Cousteau."

"Really?" She leaned forward. "Because I heard that you guys think this might be the terrorists from the previous string of crimes."

"Goddammit." Jerry kneaded at the bridge of his nose. "Where did you hear that, now?"

"Is it true?"

Jerry sighed. "You saw the tapes. Those same vigilantes made an appearance at the first blackout, and there were never any arrests made the first go round. What would anyone think? Wouldn't you figure maybe those vigilantes seem to be right there anytime these things show up? In my own personal opinion—don't you dare quote me, I will sue the pants off you—I think they're doing all this for attention. I mean, monsters? Come on. They saw that bull coming out of Japan, and they wanted a piece of the action. It's projections, or robotics, or something." He set his cup down on the table with a thud, the coffee sloshing onto the table. He swore, wiping the surface with a handkerchief.

Mallory pursed her lips. This had been along the line of what she had been expecting, but she didn't like where this conversation was heading, "But now people are getting hurt," she said lowly.

He eyed her, saying nothing, but the tightness of his jaw was confirmation enough.

"And not just minor injuries. People died in that hospital." And at this point, the blue jacket crew were holding the four of her own accountable.

Jerry huffed, bothering his mustache. "Goes without saying, if we catch sight of those egomaniacal fanatics again, we won't hesitate to take them down."

Mallory swallowed, before coughing. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Just then, two people rounded the divider leading into the office proper. Familiar eyes widened as they met hers.

Thrusting her hand out, she shouted, "You!"

Gwen untensed, apparently deciding she was not a threat. Which drove her crazy, by the way. "Oh, it's you." The pen and paper in her hand were left hanging by her side. Not important enough to note, apparently.

Mallory was furious, hotness roiling up to her ears. "There is no Gina!"

The police officer accompanying her put a hand on his hip. "You two know each other, Ms. King?" He took a step back, the professional consideration he had been giving her when they entered threatening to evaporate. Mallory tried not to take it personally. She knew more about this all than they did, after all.

"She's just mad because I sent her on a bit of a goose chase," Gwen strode past her, raising an eyebrow as Mallory clenched both fists. "Thank you guys, I think I got all I needed. I'll let you know if it goes to print."

"No problem, Sarah."

Sarah?!

"Let us know if you need to set up a follow-up interview."

"Thanks. Now." Gwen—if that was even her real name. Was it Sarah, then? What that another lie?—turned her deep blue eyes on Mallory, who was about ready to explode. "If you want to talk this out like adults, you can meet me outside."

Mallory tore out the station door trying to follow. "What do you think you are doing?"

Gwen(?) gave her a flat look. "The same thing you are." She tilted her chin up. "Just trying to do some investigating."

Mallory folded her arms. I call bullshit. "You lied to my face. Doesn't really inspire confidence that you're on the up and up, Sarah," she hissed.

She bristled when the girl smiled, looking away from her. "Actually, you're the one who decided to volunteer her true intentions right from the jump. Seems like a pretty risky move to me." They locked eyes again, and the other girl smoothed her braid over her shoulder. "And it is Gwen." She almost sounded a little embarrassed about it.

Mallory's blood pressure was suffering. Dammit, she was right, she had done that. Prompt, she pointed to the station behind them. "You understand I could just turn around right now and tell them you weren't who you said you were."

Gwen shrugged. "Why would my name matter?" But she continued to watch Mallory right back.

Mallory said, "Why else would you change it?"

It was silent. Gwen weaved around her, turning towards the street. Then, she said, "I suppose I couldn't stop you. But then you'd never find out what I know." She smiled, from the corner of her eye. "And you just couldn't stand that, could you?" Without further delay, she turned and vanished into the crowd.

Mallory hated that she'd been read so easily. By someone she'd spoken to once? Embarrassing.

Her phone went off in her pocket. She cursed as she saw the message.

Narma had replied first.

crap, i'm on the other side of the city!

no way to get there.

anyone else?

So, she was out. Mallory jumped in.

roger

Couple blocks away

Try to hold it off


Energy fell away from her, and Carmen could feel the difference. This was the first time she'd transformed since the big fight with the Agents of Purity, and it felt strange to be slipping back into that coat after everything was supposed to have been over. But more than that, the constant hum of power under her skin seemed to have gone up a decibel. So this is what they meant by an upgrade.

She, as Sailor Concordia, moved out of the alley, and there it was. She was momentarily frozen—she hadn't seen the creature before, but it made something instinctual in her say get back, the way electricity danced off of it. I screeched into the air, climbing over the tops of cars, it's pointed limbs digging into the metal.

She eyed the passengers along the road. Some were abandoning their cards, but others were packed too tight together or too scared and they cowered in their cars. I have to get that thing away from them. Swallowing, she called out to it. "You! Yes, you," she clarified when it's bright white face turned to her. "You're not welcome here. You should get out before I have to make you!" She wasn't even sure it could understand her. Was it sentient? More instinctual?

Whether it understood or not, it ignored her. Moving, it latched onto the bus. The ends of its electric hands curling into the metal. Sailor Concordia peered through the windows to the people inside. No, that's too many. If it activates its energy-draining ability, that's at least two dozen more people in a coma.

For just a second, her eyes caught on a flash of green in the window. With a start, she recognized Sylvia peering out at her. Uneasily, she watched the girl's gaze flick over her. She won't be able to recognize me. Still, she couldn't help but feel exposed, seen by someone she'd been speaking to only moments before.

For now, she had to think of a strategy. If I could weaken it enough, I might be able to use Pacification on it… might as well try being direct, She lifted her fingers, as though to conduct. "Harmonious Bellicoso!"

The ribbons of melody flowed from her and over the bus. The creature shrieked as it was torn from the top of the bus—her heart leapt as it seemed to flicker for a second, but it re-stabilized. Ah, thought I had it.

Suddenly, the thudding of boots fell in behind her. "Hey, you decided to tango with Spindly Legs without me? I feel a little left out, got to say."

She turned to see Mallory—or, Sailor Decima?—taking a battle stance.

Sailor Concordia adjusted her neck. "Well, you know. Thought I'd test the waters, at least."

The mention of water apparently reminded them both of their missing teammates, and Decima sighed. "Man, I wish Nar—er, Egeria was here."

Yeah, water would probably be helpful here, from the rundown they'd gotten on the first battle.

Decima tightened her gloved fingers into fists. "But I guess this guy could use some namastes as well."

Concordia couldn't help but grin a little, her professional exterior breaking to bit to let Carmen bleed through. If this had to be her duty, she was glad to be able to do it with someone who could keep her humor. "Oh, I would definitely say his feng shui is a bit off."

Mallory didn't seem to mind the mixed metaphor. "Guess we'll just have to get him to move some stuff around, then. Hey, guy!" She charged towards the creature, swiftly ducking when one of its spiked limbs came flying towards her. It embedded in the ground behind her. "How about you head this way?"

Carmen straightened, stumbling back as the creature skittered towards her team mate. Trying to draw it out, good. Eying her way down the lane, she spotted a pair of streetlamps, and a plan began to form. "Keep it moving!"

She shrieked as, in a motion not unlike the spastic leap of a grasshopper, the creature rounded and had boxed her in against the building. She screamed as it sent out a surge of energy—just before the pull had really grabbed her, Decima appeared behind it. Carmen couldn't see what was happening, but the thing began screaming and backed away.

Visible now, Mallory was holding a metal bar, only about as big as a ruler. Carmen shook the residual weakness from her limbs. "What is that?"

"It's a magnet," Mallory looked proud of herself. "Ror—uh, Boreas had this great idea at the hospital—"

There was little time to elaborate as the creature clawed back up the street, its arms hooking viciously into the street around the cars. Carmen immediately brought her arms up, conducting another blast. "Harmonious Bellicoso!"

The blast struck into it, the creature flinching against the onslaught as it dug into the asphalt.

"If we can keep working it back…" she gestured to the streetlamps in the distance, hoping Mallory would take the hint. She didn't want to say it out loud, just in case the creature could understand them more than it let on.

"Roger."

They darted down the street on opposite sides, a little bit at a time. The creature shot after them, stance wide an almost crab-like in a way that shouldn't have been terrifying, but the way its limbs skewered anything that trampled over filled her with anxiety. Her heart pounded, sure she was going to hear the sickening squish of sharp-and-solid breaking through something organic.

It seemed to grow more and more agitated as they moved it down the street, the humming growing in pitch with its frenzied energy. Carmen moved to the end of the street, taking the center where cars had been long diverted. She held her ground as "Spindly Legs" tore up the street towards her. Come on.

The pulse of energy was sucked up the street like waves pulling back into the sea. Her legs shook, but she kept herself standing. She dealt with worse than this. The streetlights flickered, and the bus's emergency alarms began to scream out.

"Hey!" She could hear Decima calling out to the creature behind her.

"Get ready." Carmen took a few steps back, staggering.

The creature was nearly upon her, vibrating with violent energy.

She forced her arms out, as she watched Mallory as Decima move into position, fidgeting a few steps nervously back and forth. She raised her voice, forcing it even as her faltering strength sapped her voice. It wanted energy? Let's give you what you want. "Mesmeric Pacification!"

The calming aura was absorbed by the creature and it's pull damped to a molasses-slow slurp as is slumped over. From the side, Decima's attack rang out—"Destiny chain!"

The attack was used for its most literal purpose: though the chain itself usually couldn't do much damage, it was perfectly suited for keeping something in place, if only for a moment.

The chain wrapped around one street lamp, then around the one on the opposite side of the street—trapping Spindly in between them. It screeched, the noise bouncing off the surround buildings.

Mallory tossed her a second of the magnetic bars she had acquired, and it was time to move. Bracing herself on her knee, Carmen thrust the bar forward, holding it even against the hum.

Spindly Legs screamed, going fuzzy. It's frequency glitched, the distortion intensifying until it disappeared. Carmen let her arm slacken, breathing heavily. Is…that it? Did we kill it?

"Alley-oop."

Carmen startled as Mallory hooked an arm under hers, lifting her up to lean against her shoulder.

"Good work. You think you can stand?"

"Yeah." Carmen leant against the other girl, slightly awkward due to her being several inches taller.

Mallory glanced out over the road, surveying the damage. "Hey, we should move. We've got company."

For a dread-filled second, Carmen/Concordia thought that Spindly Legs had somehow reconfigured from its disintegration. But no. Following Decima's gaze, Concordia saw civilians staring down the lane at them curiously, chattering amongst themselves. She'd never been noticed, it felt like; not by a crowd.

Near the center, she recognized a notable figure, her spring-green hair billowing behind her. She watched them dead-on, not diverting her eyes. A shiver went up Carmen's spine. It had never made her so uneasy to be seen.


To say Rory could have been more comfortable was an understatement.

She exited church with a stance anyone would have called awkward—the wrapping around her ribs made her just a little too stiff to be called natural.

Her mother furrowed her brows at her, her face shadowed by the brim of her hat. "Are you sure you're okay, baby? You've been real quiet today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about what we're going to do this summer."

That was somewhat true. Narma had texted her ecstatic last night about how she'd gotten the internship at the Fashion Institute. Which was great! She was super happy for her!

But it did mean she wasn't going to be seeing as much of her over the summer months. That sucked; for the previous three years they had gotten up to all kinds of stuff during the summer months, pretty much inseparable. Guess now, she was going to have to find something else to do.

we'll still spend time together! don't doubt!

She sighed. Plus, the monsters were back. Couldn't they chill for like, a couple more months? Obviously, these guys had never heard of summer break.

Mama stared at her for a moment, before seeming to concede. "Well, alright. I hope you plan to stick around—the house is so empty without Tyrell already."

Rory smiled. "No big adventures planned right now. Hey, has Tyrell mentioned when he's coming back into town?"

Mama sighed, blotting her forehead with the back of her hand. It was really too warm for fancy clothes, but church was church. "Not yet, That boy stays so busy."

Just then, Rory remembered feeling the buzz of her phone going off during the sermon. Pulling it from her purse, her heart jumped when she noticed it was the group chat that had pulled up.

Crap—that was nearly forty minutes ago! If they were still transformed, they wouldn't be able to answer! It wasn't too far from here. She looked back to her mother, who gazed across curiously when she'd stopped on the sidewalk. "Hey—I just remembered, I left my homework at my friends house, she just texted me. Meet you at home?"

Mama straightened. "…I suppose. Hey, maybe we can cook up that roast for dinner tonight. Don't be too long."

Rory gave her a thumbs up, but her mind was already elsewhere. "Sounds good. Bye!"

Turning, she took off, trying to look casual. As soon as she thought she was out of sight, she took to the alley and transformed. Can't free-run in heels!

Crossing the city rooftops she slowed when she came the intersection Carmen had texted about. Traffic was obviously in some sort of bind, but the lights were back on. Scanning the area, she spied Carmen and Mallory standing off to the side, whispering to one another. After making sure the coast was clear, she dropped from the roof and waved a hand to catch their attention. She untransformed. "Hey, just saw the text. What happened?"

Mallory and Carmen looked at each other. "That creature came back," Carmen said quietly, "but we got it under control."

Mallory turned to Rory more directly. "I knew your magnet plan had merit. We were able to trap it."

Rory perked up. "Wait, you killed it?"

The investigator scoffed, adjusting her glasses. "It vanished, but I doubt this is over. I miss when these things were made out of smoke."

Rory glanced away. Man, she hadn't felt helpless like this in a while. How long could they keep this up? Whatever was happening in the city, it was worse than the pithos had been by a mile.

Her gaze drifted down the alley, the sounds of Mallory discussing elaborate energy tracking systems with Carmen drifting in and out of her awareness. Down the way, she caught another sound, one of glass rolling on the pavement.

Peering down through the opposite side of the alley, she could see two guys standing very close. They appeared to be arguing, which didn't make her any more comfortable with the faded prison tats on their arms. As she watched, one guy passed a package across to the other, which were exchanged for a bundle of cash and a shove. A third guy entered the alley, leaning against the wall as the aggressive-sounding tones rasped down to her.

There was something distinctly off about the scene, and she eyed the bundle. She really doubted that was a package of pork cutlets.

She followed Mallory and Carmen down the street as they departed the alley. She couldn't shake the sour feeling the scene left in her stomach.

Something had to be done about this.


Damn. She slammed her fist down on the work-table, the screens registering the loss of signal as her personal transmitter was discombobulated. Grimly, the Professor watched the power level hover at a faint level two. "I don't imagine…"

"It's nowhere near enough," The Benefactor scoffed from the screen, brushing her hair behind her ear. Over the feed, she could see her leafing through a stack of folders

The lights flickered overhead, the fluorescents not as strong as they should have been, She needed to get someone in to fix them, but she'd been so preoccupied. She traced a finger over the (1) button, mourning the work she had put in.

She could feel the Benefactor's gaze, chronicling the lost feeling she was enveloped in. She could feel a dread coiling inside her like bulb filament. All, the planning, all the time, and her creation was already failing its sworn duty?

She turned her palms up. Like witnessing a schematic, a sadistic design yet unknown to her, she couldn't unfix her gaze. If she had given offerings of death in the name of a breakthrough and then was left with empty hands, she'd…she'd…

She couldn't even imagine the horrors those hands might be capable of.

The Benefactor spoke sharply. "There's no point even trying it right now. You'd just be wasting what you've gathered so far." Her tone darkened. "And the price it came at. You've seen the news reports. It's got to be them. You know as well as I do breaking through their secrecy is the only chance we've got. You've got to pull it together."

Her fingers curled slowly. "It's hard to believe such a power could even exist,"

What could outrank electric turbines, solar rays, nuclear reactors? What could make dark matter quiver by comparison? Such technology was inconceivable now, never mind 400 years from now.

This singular, extraterrestrial energy. She couldn't imagine a more innocuous appellation.

This Cosmos Treasure Box. Whatever it was, wherever it was hidden, she would unearth it. She had nothing left she was not willing to lose.

The hatchet was always there, invisible in her hand. Whatever this cost her, she was ready to give it. Piece by tiny piece.