Step 4.2

sys.t/ lay low until this works out

sys.d/ I'm not out?

sys.v/ negative
sys.v/ Dinah Alcott is not listed
sys.v/ nor is Taylor Hebert

Tiny miracles.

sys.d/ can I help?

Could she?

Lots of potential questions. Would the Empire attack Parian? Her family? Grue? His family? Would one of Laughter's targets go after her now that her name and face was out there?

Too many questions. Dozens came to my mind in an instant, and there'd be more as I asked.

Dinah couldn't answer all of them. Not in one day. Going more vague might broaden her results and help a bit, but that would increase the false futures she'd get. The one's that didn't matter to the reality we lived in.

sys.t/ just one for now
sys.t/ is anyone going to attack Arcadia Middle School?

It took a few seconds to get a response.

sys.d/ no

Good.

sys.t/ just lay low
sys.t/ this is all too sudden
sys.t/ I have no idea how it'll play out
sys.t/ let alone what to ask

sys.d/ okay

I closed the line and went back to looking over the pictures the Protectorate sent me.

Lots of surprises under the mask. Some more than others.

Grue being a tall and fit black guy somehow fit completely with the image in my head. Same with Sere. A middle aged office worker? Yeah, and a middle aged office worker would dress up and hero once a month and barely be active most of the time.

I don't know. Sounds kind of presumptuous, but it just fit.

I'd never think the doll girl with blond pig tails was a dark skinned girl with a heart shaped face under the mask. Doubt anyone would. Kind of brilliant actually. Not a bad idea for hiding her identity, if not for the Empire living in the same city.

Reading through her social media only made the picture worse. A practicing Muslim and a lesbian. Not particularly shy about either. Not white, not Christian, and not straight. She hit the Empire's trifecta by living her life.

The things you learn.

Laughter, or rather Lafter Frankland, was an orphan and a rather active blogger. Most of it read like teenage girl fantasy. Clothes, cute boys, that kind of thing. I never got the appeal but she had fans. A few messages referred to her as a "wharf rat." Not a term I knew. Looking it up online—urban dictionary, so useful – I got some version of illegal immigrant who slipped into the US on a boat from a country that didn't exist anymore.

Lots of those. Japan. Sweden. Switzerland. All destroyed by the Endbringers in my lifetime alone.

And that barely qualified as the biggest bombshell to fall in my lap.

Trevor is Chariot.

I sat next to Chariot for two years. Most of that time neither of us paid any mind to the other, but still. Did he know he sat next to Newtype? He said he liked her. Liked me. Weird enough knowing that, but then he's Chariot and my brain is going in circles.

He got outed. He isn't safe.

"Glory Girl just dropped Dazzler off on the roof," Triumph announced. "Martinez and Vancouver have her."

"Good," Armsmaster said. "I'm nearing Sere's address. Militia?"

"Just around the corner from Winslow."

Speaking of corners…

"Drop me off up here, Veda."

Veda guided the vehicle against the curb two blocks from Winslow. I jumped out, mask on and Purple hovering a hundred feet overhead. Middle of the day on Barton Street. Excellent for running away from bullies, and covertly stepping out of the vehicle you don't want anyone to know about.

The idea of going to Winslow as Newtype brought up some bizarre feelings. Something like a whole bunch of bees stabbing at my gut. What if Blackwell recognized me? God what if Emma recognized me? What if someone tried something?

The rules existed, but Oni Lee and Lung didn't seem to care. Hookwolf neither. And all that stuff that happened with Fleur. Capes talked about the rules, but how much did they really matter?

They came as absolute in a way. No attacking capes in their civilian lives. Even if you knew who someone was under their mask you weren't supposed to do anything, but that sounded like a bit of wishful thinking now.

Why wouldn't ABB go after Grue? The Empire after Parian?

No mask, no safety.

I ran down the street, turning the corner toward the school.

Miss Militia's bike sat on the side of the road, right behind a plain looking black sedan. Ramius waved me over, rolling the passenger side window down as I got close.

"I'm keeping watch," she said. "Miss Militia already went inside."

I nodded.

"Purple. Fly a perimeter."

"Okay okay."

The dot on my HUD moved away from me, starting a circuit around the building.

Looking back to Ramius, I asked, "Is there a plan here besides just walking into the building?"

"Not really. Miss Militia is going to get him from the front office," Ramius explained. "The Principal should have called him out of class. Then she'll bring him out here and I'll drive him back to the Rig discretely."

"And what do you plan to do about the forty-nine people watching us right now?"

Ramius blinked. "Forty-nine?"

Purple highlighted them on the camera feed. All stood in the front of the school looking out the windows. Probably more than forty-nine honestly. Those Purple saw were the ones close to windows. On the lower floors we were perfectly visible from the back of a room.

"Probably more than that."

"Nothing," Ramius said. "Let them look."

"There are a lot of gang members at this school. They could tell their bosses what your car looks like."

"Hitting a PRT transport is brazen," Ramius replied. "I doubt the gang's will make that sort of move in this situation. The immediate danger is someone low on the ladder thinking they can move up by doing something stupid."

She said it like a fact and pretty convincingly. She also said, "At this stage the gangs are more likely to try and force recruitment than outright attack anyone."

Looking up at the building I took a deep breath.

No way but one way. "I'll go make sure everything's alright."

"Front office," she said. "I'll keep an eye on things out here. Get Chariot straight to me if anything happens. I'll hightail it to the Rig."

I nodded and stepped through the gates.

Finding the front office? Easy. I'd been there dozens of times. I heard the crowd before I saw it. At least twenty or so students.

Didn't they have classes?

Someone spotted me, tapping a boy beside him and asking, "Who's that?"

Greg Veder of all people turned, eyes bugging as I approached.

"What do you mean who's that?! That's Newtype!"

The heads turned, all the people who stood by and did nothing as Emma tore the world down around me. Speaking of her, I saw a few bits of red among the heads. That sent chills up my spine. Emma might be the one who would guess Newtype and Taylor Hebert shared a face just on a glance. She saw my face nearly every day for years.

What good did slapping a visor over my eyes really do?

I soldiered onward. Emma might have chased me out of school, but letting her chase me from being a hero? Fat chance in hell.

I'd deal with it when it happened.

The voices chattered around me, oblivious to my worries.

"Is she with Miss Militia?"

"What's going on?"

"Why are they both here?"

"When are you going to join the Wards?"

"Can I have your autograph?!"

If only they knew.

No one really tried to stop me, the crowd parting as I approached the door. A group of security guards stood on either side. Most I'd seen of them in two years.

The bigger of the two looked down at me, his arms crossed.

"Who are you?"

"I'm with Miss Militia."

"Blackwell said no one goes in or ou—"

The door cracked, and a flag covered face poked her head out.

"Newtype. Good."

She pushed the door open, and Milita stepped aside to usher me in. Phones went up throughout the hall as I did. Blackwell and her secretary both assessed me. I kept my head high and my face straight.

For the moment, they didn't matter.

Part of me didn't really believe it until I saw it. There he stood. Nervously tapping his foot, running a hand over his head, mumbling to himself.

Trevor looked how I felt.

Strung out and exhausted.

Fucking Mondays.

I glanced to Blackwell. Other than an initial once over, she paid me little mind. She looked lost in thought, and thoroughly displeased. Beside her, her secretary just looked nervous. Not part of the job description I guess.

Miss Militia closed the door. "Chariot has been deciding what to do."

My brow rose under my visor. "What's there to decide?"

"Technically, I can't force him to come with us," Miss Militia noted. She turned to him, saying, "But it is highly advisable."

Trevor shook his head.

"It's a mistake. I'm not, what's his name, Chariance?"

My jaw slackened. Not every day I met someone who lied worse than me. Not even sure I'd have the gall to try in this situation.

Miss Militia's eyes frowned.

"I'm afraid this is serious Mr. Medina. The website has been taken down, but Blue Cosmos could have offline backups, and we don't know who may have copied or saved the released files."

"But I'm not him!"

Blackwell deigned to speak up, but she didn't make it far before Trevor threw his hands up and turned his back.

"It's a mistake! I'm not a cape!" He turned to Miss Militia. "You need to fix it! Tell reporters or something. I'm not a cape! There's Empire just a block over from my neighborhood. If they hear about this they'll kick the door down and—"

Okay. Wow. That…that hit like a rock.

My worst fear, realized for so many other people. Hadn't considered that angle. Realistically, I knew my fate. Even successful capes died young. Never looked it up specifically, but how many capes lived to thirty? Forty? Not nearly as many as put on a mask in the first place.

That's how it is. No matter how carefully I planned or prepared, sooner or later I'd die.

Didn't mean I wanted to. Certainly, I didn't want any of it to blow back on Dad.

Looking at Trevor, I suppose I might do the same thing. I never asked him about his family, but I assumed he had one. He wasn't White, or Asian either which just made things even worse.

However obvious the lie, but the truth seemed so much worse. Deny. Deny. Deny. I did that when mom died, at first. Refused to accept it.

"Parian got outed today," I said.

Trevor turned to me, and worries about him recognizing me didn't factor in.

He needed to accept reality.

"The file was online for all of fifteen minutes before Aryan Nation started spreading her real name all over social media. She's Arab. She's Muslim. And she's a lesbian. How much mercy do you think the Empire is going to show her?"

He recoiled slightly, face grimacing.

"You're outed," I continued. "Everyone whose name was in one of those files needs to assume someone knows. If one person knows, anyone can know."

A thought occurred, and I hesitated. Did I want to do that? No, but did it matter? What we wanted flew out the window in the face of immediate danger.

"Did you know a teacher here is a member of Blue Cosmos?"

That got more of a reaction than I expected. Miss Militia, Blackwell, and Trevor all turned to me. I didn't mention her name. All things aside, Mrs. Knott didn't seem like she wanted to hurt anyone. She didn't even tell anyone about me, yet. I doubt she got on board with whatever scheme this was.

I steeled myself, pressing forward to make the point.

"It's not just the gangs. What about the crazy end of the cape geeks on PHO? People who hate capes? You going to wear a suit of armor twenty-four seven?"

If anyone recognized Taylor Hebert standing in the room, they didn't make it obvious.

"Maybe no one noticed you in the stack of hundreds of files that went online, but are you really going to take a chance? What about your family?"

And the fight just flushed right out of him.

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll go. But I'm still not Cheerio or whatever his name is."

Miss Militia relaxed, saying, "Right now we can take you to the Rig. We've already moved Parian and Dazzler."

"What about my mom?"

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yeah. At work."

"Call her." Miss Militia pulled a phone from her costume. "Use this. Give me the address and I'll inform what people we have. They'll get her as soon as they can."

Blackwell spoke up, asking, "Am I to understand the Protectorate is removing Mr. Medina for the day as a matter of public safety?"

Miss Militia turned to her and nodded.

"Very well."

Sometimes I wonder if Blackwell ever wanted to work in education. She seemed to have no problems letting students vanish as they pleased.

Trevor stepped off into the corner with Miss Militia's phone, and Militia talked into her radio.

"Armsmaster, Chariot is with us. We're getting ready to move him now. Can someone get his mother?"

"LaFlaga."

"Just tell me where to pick the lady up."

I crossed my arms and waited.

Trevor wouldn't die today, hopefully.

Blackwell and her secretary stood off to the side watching us, and part of me wondered if she'd been in this situations before. Did the PRT just waltz in one day and give her the rules for how to handle Sophia?

sys.v/ I am concerned

I turned my head to the side, pulling the phone from my pocket and typing on the screen.

sys.t/ what's wrong?

sys.v/ I am monitoring social media

A web page came up on my visor, someone's Facebook account. Terry, in this case a girl, Herren. The name sounded oddly familiar. Someone from one of my classes? Yes. Last year. She called me a "heb" once, which told me everything I needed to know about her.

The comments on her Facebook page confirmed the vague memory. Lots of racist garbage, and a few violent fantasies that sounded like something out of the news.

For the moment, I focused on her latest post. A vague comment and a picture of a black girl facing the front of a classroom. Girl's room second floor ten minutes, it said. I'd be baffled, but I'd been attacked in the bathroom enough times to know Emma probably sent out dozens of these texts.

sys.v/ that is Aisha Laborn
sys.d/ Grue's name is Brian Laborn

My heart tensed.

sys.t/ daughter? sibling?

sys.v/ siblings

And they were going to attack Grue's sister.

Today sucks so much.

"Militia."

I pulled the page up on my phone and showed it to her. I kept my voice low, not sure how close any of this came to breaking the rules.

"Grue's sister," I whispered. "This account belongs to one of the local neo-Nazis."

Her eyes frowned.

"She's going to attack the girl after the bell."

Militia thought for a moment.

"What's her name?"

"Aisha Laborn."

Miss Militia turned to Blackwell.

"Could you pull Aisha Laborn from her class?"

Blackwell raised her head.

"Another one?"

"No," Militia answered. "Newtype is monitoring the social media of some of the more colorful students here. She inadvertently noticed some planning to bully the girl between periods."

Smooth.

"Very well."

Blackwell turned to the hard line phone and picked it up.

Trevor finished his call, and handed Miss Militia her phone.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"I'm grounded for life," Trevor grumbled.

Tell me about it. Dad is going to freak.

"Ramius. We're coming out. Any problems?"

"None," Ramius answered. "Though we've got spectators. They saw Newtype entering, and probably you as well."

I checked the feed from Purple's cameras. Aside from a single blond girl on the street, I didn't see anyone around the school.

Miss Militia nodded. Reaching for her back pocket she pulled out a piece of black cloth.

"You've already been outed, but there's no need to make any more spectacle of this than necessary."

She handed him the mask and Trevor took it. He pulled it over his head, only his eyes visible from inside the Balaclava.

"So, the Rig, huh? That's kind of cool. I guess."

"We can offer a tour once your there." Miss Militia looked to Blackwell. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Just get this mess out of my building. The gangs are bad enough when they don't have reason to be riled up."

"We'll be going then."

"We will?"

She wanted to leave. Just calling the girl into the office wouldn't protect her. Not with someone like Blackwell in charge. I'd know.

Might have a grudge against the Undersiders, but Aisha Laborn never did me any wrong.

"We have our orders," Miss Militia said.

"I can think of another group that liked using that line," I mumbled.

Militia flinched, and we spent a few seconds staring at each other.

"Um, are you two going to fight?" Trevor glanced between us. "'Cause that would be totally bad ass, but maybe now isn't the time for a girl cape throw down showdown?"

"No, it's not." I turned to the door. "Go ahead and follow your orders."

Stepping back into the hall the crowd parted again. Looking at the picture, I recognized the classroom. Ms. Jones' freshman civics class.

sys.t/ can you contact the Undersiders?

sys.v/ yes

I formulated a plan quickly.

Extract the girl from the school and get her a few blocks over. Leave her somewhere to be picked up that I could watch from a distance.

sys.t/ Aisha Laborn is in danger
sys.t/ I'm removing her for safety
sys.t/ I need somewhere to drop her off
sys.t/ and I don't want to see Tattletale

sys.v/ contacting All_Seeing_Eye

All Seeing Eye? Yeah, had to be her. Tattletale has been commenting on my PHO thread. Wonderful.

"This is unadvised," Armsmaster warned impotently. "The Undersiders might interpret your actions as an attack."

"That would be rich," I answered.

I shut the communicator off. If they didn't want to help then I didn't want to hear it. I'd join back in later.

I started down the hall, turning to go up the stairs to the second floor. At Winslow the student years rotated around the building from the west wing for the freshmen to the east wing for seniors. The only exception were some elective classes on the third floor.

Should be easy to run into the girl on her way to the office.

Emphasis on should.

I should have seen her by now.

I started to circle back, stopping when Purple's camera feed caught her through a window.

The window to the girl's room.

On the second floor.

I broke into a run. The bell would ring any minute. Would Terry go through with her scheme if it looked like the target had left for the office?

The bell rang before I made it there, multiple heads turning as a costumed figure sprinted down the hall. Surreal having everyone pay attention to me without the mocking, but I'd contemplate that later.

I threw the bathroom door open. I found the same old filthy bathroom from freshman year, a low cut top, very short shorts, and the fourteen year old girl far more developed than me.

So I felt a little jealous. Sue me.

Aisha stood by the window, thankfully. Purple might not have spotted her otherwise. Unthankfully, she stood in the exact bathroom Terry wanted to attack her in.

She spun, eyes widening at the sight of me.

Into the phone she asked, "Is Newtype the one with the Alexandria knock off mask?" I frowned. She frowned back. "If you don't like it make a different mask."

Is being an ass just Undersiders genetics?

The girl held the phone out to me. "He wants to talk to you."

I closed the door and stepped forward. Only one guy on the Undersiders, so at the very least I didn't have to talk to her.

"Hello?"

A gruff voice came over the line, asking, "This isn't a trick?"

I scoffed. "I'm not the one who dumps suicide bombers on people."

"That wasn't my idea."

"Don't care. I can send you the link to a social media page where a neo-Nazi is talking about attacking your sister or I can take her somewhere for you to pick her up. I can always just drag her into a police station, but I don't think you trust the cops in this town any more than I do."

"Can you get her to the South Dock's Gym on Fifty-Third?"

I knew. The bus drove right past it, but I'd never been inside. "Is it safe to leave her there?"

"The owner knows us. He'll keep her in the back office till I come to get her."

"I'll get her there."

I closed the phone and handed it back.

Aisha stared at me. I stared at her.

I took a deep breath and held my arm toward the door. "Come on. I'm going to drop you off somewhere your brother can find you."

She scowled. "He really got outed then?"

So she knew. "A lot of people did."

"And you're not going to arrest him?"

"Not today. I'm a hero. Not an asshole."

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from me. I knew that look. Scared, but not wanting to look scared. She put on a fake smile, made a small fake laugh, and shrugged.

"Right," she grumbled. "Let's go then."

We didn't make it to the door. Three blond girls entered, one particularly tall and bulky with shoulder length hair. They tensed the moment they saw me, especially the short one in the middle.

One hand rested against the saber on my hip, and the other shot out to put me firmly between Aisha and the Nazi Trio.

What is it with this school and threes? "Can I help you?"

The girl tensed, glancing to one another and then to me. The tallest of the three, my build on a good look at her, edged toward the door fast, while the big muscly one stood in place. The shorter girl in the middle—Terry according to the Facebook page—looked nervous.

She worked her jaw back and forth a few times before speaking.

"Just using the bathroom."

I put a hand on Aisha's shoulder and kept her at my side. "I'll leave you to that."

The girls parted, apparently okay with beating on a lone black girl, but not a white girl in a mask.

The door opened, and I pulled Aisha into the hall.

The crowd noticed us instantly, and I realized I didn't have a mask to give her…Though with some of the locals already picking her out as a target I guess it didn't matter much.

"Come on." The bathroom door closed and we started down the hall. "You might need a new school."

"I'd have been fine," she objected. "Jean is as dumb as she is big, and the other two are cowards. Besides. Ruth will probably kick their asses for trying."

"Ruth?"

"All the racist shit heads take orders from her." Aisha shrugged. "She's not into attacking kids at school. Bad for their image or something."

Well that's different.

"And I'd prefer no school," Aisha continued. "Waste of time." She looked at me from the corner of her eye. "What, no big speech about staying in school?"

"School is a waste of time," I responded.

Not the role model thing to say, but whatever. My school experiences hardly endeared me to the institution. Aisha for her part went quiet, I guess not really sure how to respond to that.

We grew closer to the stairs, and everything seemed just fine. The door to the stairwell opened, a blond girl and three others rushing through the doorway into the hall.

"I'm going to kick their as—" She stopped, her eyes fixing on me. My hand went back to my saber, an arm going out to bar Aisha's path forward.

"That would be Ruth," Aisha identified.

Ruth stared at me, and something in her face seemed off. Shock yes, but recognition too.

My heart jumped at the realization. Did I have any classes with her? Did she recognize me? I didn't remember her, but Winslow was a big school. Outside of the trio and their hanger's on, how many students did I remember?

Forcing the words, I said, "We wer—"

"Gotcha nigger bitch!"

Aisha screamed, and I swung my saber out. The blade cut on, some of the bystanders in the hall jumping back.

"Let—"

I remained in the hall. I saw Ruth, and the other blond neo-Nazi's surrounding me, but I stood somewhere else too. Somewhere with something vast lurking over me.

I've seen this before.

I glanced up at the big black thing. I'd definitely seen it before. More than once even. But I didn't remember the fire, or the unfamiliar skyline.

A golden figure darted through the sky, chased by a red streak and a man in a green cloak. The golden man held out his hand, a beam of light cutting the night. The green figure spun, a barrier forming and deflecting the blast.

The red line turned up, and dove back down. The golden man didn't seem phased by the blow, but the wave of force shattered the windows and sent glass raining through the air.

"What the hell?"

The vision faded, and I stood alone in the hall.

Well, alone save for Ruth.

Ruth slammed her hand against the wall and snarled.

"What are you doing here?"

"I—" What am I doing here?

I glanced around the empty hall, saber out, trying to remember why I'd come up to the second floor at all. We found Trevor, and…And what was I thinking about again?

"You think that just 'cause a bunch of Blue morons outed some capes you can out whoever you want?"

I turned back to Ruth, and it clicked.

My age, blonde neo-Nazi, ran the local neo-Nazis at Winslow—where did I hear that—and glaring at me like I'd kicked her dog.

Rune.

Telekinetic, can move things by touching them.

I repeated the thought.

RUNE?! Why am I up here attacking Rune?

No. Not why I came up here. I came up here to find someone.

Someone…

Why did I come up here? I shook my head at the sense of mental deja vu. Third time I'd thought that, and I still didn't know the answer. It was wrong.

I knew it was wrong.

I held my hand up. "Wait."

Empty halls? Why did Winslow have an empty hallway? The bell rang a few minutes ago it should be crowded not empty. Where did everyone go?

Wait.

Weren't there—

Why am I here?

I shook my head again and cursed.

"This isn't right."

"Fuck no it's not!"

Rune pulled her hands off the wall and floor. Brick, and tile ripped out of the building and lifted into the air.

"Fucking bitch. Kaiser's not going to bat an eye when I—"

I pulled out my carbine and fired.

Fighting Rune. Right? I'm fighting Rune why am I fighting Rune?!

The unmasked girl ran back, tiles and bricks flying toward me as I fired. My shots went wide, missing the girl as the vision returned.

I ignored it, trying to focus on the person trying to kill me, but from the corner of my eye I saw someone. A woman in a fedora watching the battle.

Wait. Why am I seeing anything?

"Rune! Stop!"

I lowered my carbine, jumping to the side to take cover behind some lockers. A piece of tile hit my thigh, and another the visor of my mask.

"Something isn't right!"

"It will be soon!"

Damn it.

I leaned around the corner and fired, only to see a wall of lockers flying toward me. I swung my saber toward the ceiling, cutting the row of lockers in half. One clattered to the floor, while the other slammed into my side and forced me to the ground.

That's when I saw the body.

A blond girl laying on the floor, eyes open and bloodshot.

She wasn't there a second ago.

Was she? No. No she wasn't. We were alone in the hallway, and neither of us—

"RUNE!"

I scrambled to my feet and turned. I pointed past her, another body leaning against the wall behind her. Definitely not there before.

"You seriously think I'm going to fall for that?"

She ripped another line of lockers off the wall, the half of the first lifting from the ground behind me.

The lockers flew toward me from both sides. I threw my shoulder into the nearest door, forcing my way into the classroom. I rolled back. The lockers slammed against the frame, unable to enter the room until turning sideways and floating in.

Rune followed, looking at me with a confident smirk.

"No so tough without your suit are you?"

"Would you stop and listen to me!"

I pointed at one locker.

"I'm not bleeding, are you?!"

This time, Rune did look. She floated the locker past her, and glanced at the stain of red on the corner.

My attention meanwhile went to the desk just in front of the locker, and how it moved. The locker didn't touch it. Neither did I, and unless Rune could suddenly move things without touching them.

The bodies in the hall appeared out of nowhere, but I didn't remember Rune's locker hitting them.

I pulled out my phone, lifting it up and taking a look at the screen.

The other vision played out in the back of my head, the green figure and the red streak battling the golden man as others surrounded them. One didn't wear a mask, a girl with dark skin and hair, a red dot on her forehead.

The golden man saw all of them, but not with his eyes. His eyes? Not eyes? Not a movie. Something saw all this. Watched it play out from somewhere, and that's how I saw it. I think. Whoever, or however it worked, he was distracted.

A figure hovering in the distance. Someone he knew…

"What?"

"What?"

I turned to Rune. She'd pulled the lockers back, and seemed as confused as I felt.

"What did you see?"

"See?"

"On the phone!"

Phone.

I lifted my hand, phone clutched in my palm. When did I take it out? No, I remembered taking it out, but why did I take it out?

sys.v/ beginning playback

The screen wound back, and—I glanced up at the spot beside the desk. I didn't remember lifting my phone, but how else did I managed to get any video for Veda to playback? I didn't how I ended up on the second floor either.

A power? Someone with the power to make me forget?

The splitting headache came pretty fast, but at least I sort of remembered.

As the video played I saw a boy there, just beside the desk standing and staring off into space. I looked up, but I didn't see him. I looked at the screen, and there he was. Stopping the recording, I lifted the phone again and switched over to the camera.

Still there. Staring.

sys.v/ you do not see him?

sys.t/ no
sys.t/ can you?

sys.v/ yes
sys.v/ I see all of them.

Purple's camera came up on my visor. The Haro hovered in the hall, dozens of people all standing motionless like the boy in front of me. Some held books or even hands, and a few others stood mid-step while a few lay on the floor.

I panned my phone around the classroom. The headache got worse, but I saw them on the screen. All of them. Five students and an adult.

My saber fell from my hand as the headache started traveling down my neck. Fuck it hurt. Like nails on a chalk board in my skull.

And my thoughts felt scrambled. Like I'd forget one second, only to see them on the screen and remember the next.

Rune approached me with a snarl. "What is it?"

"People," I said with a strained voice. "There's people in here with us."

"What? No there—"

I turned the screen toward her, barely managing to hang on to why I did it. Rune winced, hand going to her head as she stumbled back.

"Fuck what the hell?!"

"Parahuman power."

I fell to my knees, something trailing over my lips from my nose. Rune's stumble continued and she fell back onto the floor. I don't think she felt the boy she'd bounced into, and he just collapsed under her and remained still.

I barely managed to keep my head straight long enough.

"Veda. Need help."

My head hit the ground, and everything went black.