"Waving helps."

I jump a little as a lilting laugh follows the voice. I turn to see Laserdream drifting next to me in a red blouse and casual jeans, an entirely too satisfied grin on her face. She waves at the crowd and they roar in approval.

"See?" she says, smile barely moving.

Yes, a wave would be one option. On the other hand, then it looks like I'm just copying Laserdream. Then the narrative becomes 'White Rose is a socially awkward cape who needs help interacting with the public.'

I would prefer to fight my own battles.

I think, staring out over the crowd. What is one thing I can do that no one else can?

My gaze falls on one of my trees. Maybe something on a smaller scale?

I lift my hand and fill it with the head of a rose, sized closer to a cabbage than a flower. I focus and divide the petals as thin as I can until they're paper-light with rounded corners. Then I sever the connections between the petals until only surface tension holds them together.

A hush falls over the crowd.

I hope this works.

I toss the flower forward. It fragments into hundreds, thousands, more pieces than anyone could count. A breeze comes by and spreads them further. Sunlight filters through the petals, turning them almost peach.

I just covered the crowd in flower petals made of bone. The screams of joy seem to indicate that was a good move.

"Is it always this easy?" I ask quietly, almost to myself. Surely maintaining a good reputation has to require more effort?

"You've killed a known gang leader who basically everybody hated and lived to tell the tale," Laserdream says, still smiling as I deal with the sudden mental whiplash. What? "You have a power that can be used for healing and you haven't been in the cape scene long enough to scare people. You're playing on easy mode right now."

I deflate a little at her systematic and frank analysis of my success. Should've known. Then I jump as I feel a brief pressure on my ass. I turn towards Laserdream, who is still fucking smiling at the crowd. Did she just...

"Easiest part of you to reach, don't read anything into it. That, and chill out, you're still doing good. Part of the public relations game is momentum, and you've built up a lot of it for yourself. Now we should probably head off, unless you want to actually go down there," she says, tilting her chin towards the crowd. I shake my head almost imperceptibly, a knot of apprehension forming at the thought of walking among them, hearing their questions and concerns, being expected to answer them.

No, I think a degree of separation is required.

Laserdream flies off, slow enough at first for me to keep pace. Once I begin to catch up to her, she speeds up. So do I. The meaningless race escalates until we're deep into downtown and I have to descend to street level due to the lack of safe rooftops. Laserdream, Crystal now, joins me, hovering off the ground to help decrease the height difference between her and I. My mask hides my grin, but when a few people on the street freeze in place at the sight I nearly burst out laughing.

After a few blocks of quiet walking to catch our breath (well, I walk and breathe deeply as she floats patiently next to me), she decides to break the silence.

"You okay? Like, from the bombing," she clarifies, her voice as casual as if she were discussing the weather. Given that her family fights crime for a living, talking about violence might actually be that mundane for her.

I hope they know a good therapist.

"Isidis healed me," I answer. "There wasn't anything particularly life threatening. I think that she received more severe injuries anyway." I pause. "Does she have an armored costume?" I ask. I think she's the only one from New Wave who doesn't have a Brute rating or force fields besides Flashbang, and I can't imagine Amy hasn't had to play battlefield medic.

"Yeah, but she usually doesn't wear it to lunch," Crystal says, shrugging. "Also, she's healed a lot of local villains during Endbringer attacks. Attacking her is a bit of a no-no." Her voice goes hard. "Especially outside of a fight."

It's ironic that the team of public superheroes are the ones most concerned with the unwritten rules. But irony is usually funny, and the end of the New Wave project was only funny if you forget the human cost that was paid.

"Anyway, we've got plans for a little payback. Nothing huge," she says dismissively. "More like some rescheduling to increase the frequency of patrols in ABB territory. What's left of it, anyway."

"If you'll have me, I'd like to join you," I say, cautiously optimistic. This sounds personal enough that the patrols might be a 'family only' venture and I don't want to intrude on that. On the other hand, it seems like we definitely have a common enemy here.

"I don't make our schedules, but I'll let them know you're open to cooperation," Crystal says. I take this as code for 'we're still not over the whole debut-with-a-murder thing' and accept the decision. "Have any plans for the rest of the day?" she asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head. "Hospital is doing fine and I have a lawyer coming by this Thursday to knock out the last of the legal barriers to setting up my shop." That conversation cannot come soon enough. I'm itching to get a proper source of income. Not because I need the money, but because it will be another thing I have control over again. That, and the front step still needs fixing.

"If it's not too personal, how's school treating you?" Crystal asks.

"It's not," I respond flatly. Fortunately she gets the message and stops talking.

I hear some cameras go off and look up. We're nearing the Boardwalk. That's a lot of ground we covered in the race, but then I remember that we're both Movers. How long it will take before I'm no longer surprised by the mundane utility of powers?

"What about you?" I ask, trying to reopen the dialogue. "Classes going well?"

Apparently that was the right question to ask because Crystal starts breathlessly chatting about parahuman psychology and biology. I should've known, honestly. I mean, what other courses would you take if you were a cape?

Most of what she says goes over my head. Like, I understand the individual words in the phrase "independent thematic correlations in trigger events" but the meaning behind them escapes me, as does the significance of some powers fixing minor physical defects upon triggering. Then she starts talking about the mindsets of the various different types of capes and I snap back to attention.

"Could you go over that again?" I ask. When Crystal shoots me a quizzical glance I clarify. "The mindsets of the various different categories of cape." That seems like fairly critical knowledge for anyone who has to deal with capes.

"Well, in broad strokes, people in different categories want different things that tend to correlate with the category their power falls under," Crystal says, steering us towards some food trucks. "For example, Strangers can get away with a lot of stuff, so they often act without a care in the world. They tends towards bold moves and egocentrism. Again, this is in broad strokes," she adds, flipping a hand over dismissively. "Like, there are plenty of Protectorate Strangers that have a cool head and are plenty cautious. It's just that when you give the Ring of Gyges to people they-"

"-will go off to kill the king and fuck his wife," I interrupt quietly. Mom didn't spend a lot of time on the Republic but it briefly came back into vogue when people tried applying its theories on the ideal state to managing a society of capes. Some Thinkers, some Masters, and other capes with organizational powers at the top in the gold group, most other capes as auxiliaries in silver, and everyone else in the working class. It held up until Vikare died, the stock market plunged because Flipcoin decided to mess around with a few numbers, and the scarier capes started showing up and wiping small towns off the map in fits of pique.

Crystal blinks once before breaking into a smile. "So you were listening," she teases before tapping a free table with three chairs. "Mind saving the table while I order some food? I'm starving." I look to a nearby clock on a taco truck. Guess the race must have taken up more time than I thought. I nod and sit down, folding one leg over the other. Crystal drops to the ground and walks over to a truck with faded pictures of Greek food on the side. I stare off into the distance, processing.

It's ironic, isn't it? That the powers people get don't usually match the goals they have. I think about Lung. What could've happened to make him like he was? What drove him? He came out of nowhere, a non-entity until he picked a fight with the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate, won, and 'unified' all the Asian gangs in the area, but why? If he'd wanted money, there must have been half a hundred ways for him to get it without painting such a large target on his back. If he'd wanted power, why stay a small-time crook in a relatively tiny New England town? Why not go to New York and gain rep picking fights with Legend and surviving? Why not travel to Africa and carve out some territory for himself?

I think about Crystal's Stranger example. People who can disappear from sight, one way or another, and they want to be the center of attention. What would a person who could escalate endlessly want? To stand out? No, if he wanted to stand out he'd go to Endbringer fights and be the cornerstone of the defense against them. I can only imagine how much he could scale up to then. Or he could go to LA and fight Alexandria, or Chicago or Houston or Philly or any city bigger than Brockton Bay where the Protectorate capes are less capes and more forces of nature. Like, Armsmaster is the seventh strongest hero in the Protectorate, but Chevalier? Myrddin? There are bigger fish, sharks even, that he could cut his teeth on. So why settle down by the one man who won't give you a fair fight? Why challenge a Tinker, the second worst matchup you could have besides a hard-core Master?

Why would a dragon who could fight off entire teams of heroes slumber in Brockton Bay? After a moment of wool gathering I shake my head. I don't know enough about Lung to ask what he would do. I change the question.

What would I do with that level of power? The answer comes to me in an instant.

Peace.

The answer shocks me. It's so natural and it fits. Why did Lung avoid fights? Because he didn't want them. What he'd do with all the free time peace would grant him is anyone's guess. Maybe he was a massive anime fan and just wanted to finally sit down and catch up on all the shows archived in the wake of the sinking of Kyushu. Maybe he's a thinker, lower-case "T," and wanted time to put together a plan that would gain him enough power to etch his name into the history books. Maybe his power gave him immortality and he just wanted to wait his enemies out. What did anyone actually know about Lung?

I start laughing, hard enough that my abdomen starts aching. I can't help it. I'm not sure what instinct cracks open my mask and forms teeth, but I'm thankful for it. Otherwise I'm not sure I'd be able to breathe.

Crystal walks back with a wrap in each hand, an eyebrow raised. "Is something funny?"

I shake my head one last time, slowly and carefully. "I just realized how reasonable some people are." Figures. If I hadn't started anything with Lung he probably would've let me do whatever I wanted so long as I stayed out of his way. Bad timing. Really bad timing. If I had left earlier, or later, or taken a different route...

"Well, I got you a gyro," she says, rolling one of the wraps across the table. "On me." I take it and nod in thanks. Good thing too. I didn't think to grab any money for lunch. I remember about the bag of cash lying in the basement. Last time I checked there was a few thousand dollars in it. Not the most secure place in the world but I don't have a bank account yet. That, and there's something about seeing stacks of cash that's viscerally pleasing to me.

"Hey, can I join you two?" a voice asks. Familiar, but not overly so. I turn. A girl in a yellow blouse and a pencil skirt with a backpack hanging off one shoulder. Lisa.

"Hello again," she says. She has a smile on her face, but it's a restrained one. Like she's happy to be here but not over the moon about it.

"Do you know this girl?" Crystal asks after a short silence, eying her up and down. Not in a sexual way. More like scanning for threats.

"Yes," I say before things can get out of hand. "Lisa. She's the one who introduced me to Luciano's. Please, sit down." I motion towards the empty chair.

She does so, dropping her bag by her chair then sliding gracefully into the seat with a smile. "It's good to see you again White Rose." Her posture shifts a little as she leans forward and rests her head on her hands and puts her elbows on the table. "So, what's new with you?"

I shrug. "Still waiting for things to come together. Yourself?"

She sighs dramatically. "Well, first, there was the bombing. Thanks to that, my work schedule is completely fucked. All. Available. Holes," she says, looking me dead in the eye before shifting her gaze to Crystal. "Then I get called up out of the blue by some person I barely know and when I try to meet with them they're completely uncompromising."

"Were you okay?" Crystal asks idly. Her tone is light, but there's an undercurrent of genuine concern in it. It's interesting how just a moment ago she was worried about me. I wonder if empathy for others is a general trait of heroes?

Lisa waves a hand at her. "I had some coworkers with me, they would've stepped in if things had gotten bad. Anyway," she says, changing subjects, "I was actually looking for you in particular, Rosie."

"Rose," I state, mentally bristling. I didn't like it from Hookwolf and I still don't like it from her.

"Rose then," she says, recovering quickly. "Anyway, I found out about a new team in town. I know you said you weren't interested," she says, holding up a hand in my direction, "But bear with me."

"Five minutes," I say, glancing at the clock and counting off the seconds. I make a mental note to maintain a greater distance from the general population in the future. No more going to lunch with random civilians, even if they offer to pay. It's a short and slippery slope to getting an unwanted cape-life counselor.

"So, the Traveler's just came into town. They've been villains for a while," I begin to get up, as does Crystal. Lisa throws up her hands in exasperation, unbridled annoyance flowing off her in waves. "They've also said they're turning over a new leaf, they haven't committed any seriously over the line offenses in their entire career, and they fought Alabaster and Victor at an Empire safe house two days ago!" she finishes. "Jeez, it's like being labeled a villain automatically makes you a bad person."

Crystal and I exchange glances but sit back down. "A new leaf, you say?" Crystal asks.

Lisa nods. "Yup. They put a post up on PHO. Their mission statement, explanations for past activities, plans for reparations to the people they've injured, everything." She grabs her bag and pulls out a manilla envelope. "Made a dossier for each member, wrote up a summary of their history, and printed off all of their promotional material." She puts on a smug grin. "Saves us all some time."

I pass the promotional information to Crystal and skim the dossiers, focusing on the powers. A strange but versatile form of teleportation (seems handy), a nearly-unlimited shape changer (well there's the heavy-hitter),instantaneous acceleration of inorganic matter? Creating a SUN? Jesus. How do they not have half a hundred fatalities to their names? They've moved around a lot, sure, but Lisa's right. Nothing worse than a few cripplings and some property damage despite the insane lethality of their power sets. Like, how do you even turn super-sonic munitions into something that doesn't just murder anyone whose not a Brute?

"Their manifesto is well done," Crystal says. I look up to see a contemplative expression gracing her features. "The language is well thought out, slanted in a way that indicates an interest in atoning for past wrongs while also pointing out what good they can do in the future. They've also apparently got new costumes already, and that certainly helps sell the fresh-start idea." I take a look at the group's outfits. Red on white, big, bright and inspiring, with masks that show at least parts of their faces. Except for the shapeshifter, of course. Genesis, apparently.

"So, watcha think?" Lisa says, smile wide. "Maybe talk to them?"

"Maybe," I answer, gathering up the materials and shuffling them together. "Thank you for your help."

Things wrap up soon after that. Crystal flies off, Lisa texts someone before heading towards the docks, and I sprint back home with Lisa's materials clutched in my hands. I still probably won't join them but maybe we can work out a joint patrol schedule or something.

Once I'm back home I spill the papers out onto the desk in the basement, right next to the sack of money. Time for some closer reading. As I flick on the cheap desk lamp by the old silver-bound mirror, I notice something flicker on the folder. I hold it up to the light.

Parts of the folder are translucent. It looks like gibberish, but I flip it over and the squiggles transform into letters and numbers. Dates, times and addresses. In the corner there's a note with another address just below it.

I know you want to play the lone wolf, but a common enemy is still a common enemy. The Travelers will be hitting these locations at these times. They'll meet at this place every time before a raid. Feel free to join them!

-Tt

I copy down the information in code into a composition book, then burn the folder in the furnace, thinking about Lisa, Tattletale and what link she could have to the Travelers.