Eric was ten, volatile, unpowered, and frankly, Anita didn't like him. He had perfected the balancing act of whining about everything, but not in a way that would get back to dad. He started fights with all the younger kids, and could only be stopped by an appearance from Heartbreaker, or the intervention of someone bigger.

Today, day seven of the Flor project, he had snatched the remote from a crying six-year-old, Nina, and was watching porn in the TV room. Anita, sequestered in the corner under the cover of a book, watched him as he watched the screen. She knew very well that he didn't get a jot of pleasure from it; her best guess was that he thought it was important, because this was something dad did. Constantly.

Nina sniffled from her spot on the corner of the rug and said, "I want it back." She was eight, overgrown blond curls all but swallowing her delicate face. She was a crybaby, but stubborn too. She got up and climbed onto Eric's armchair, reaching for the remote. "Eric," she said plaintively.

He shoved her off, and then huffed in irritation. He changed the channel. Some violent film.

Still whimpering, Nina got up and made another clumsy grab for the remote. Eric snatched it away, smacked her, and rolled over so the prize was shielded with his body.

As Anita watched, Nina looked around the room, searching for allies. She dropped her eyes just as Nina's scan came to her, paused, and then moved on. But there was nobody else in the room.

Instead, she went up to the TV and turned it off.

"Stop it!" Eric shouted, turning it back on again.

Instead of replying, Nina stayed standing in front of the screen, holding out her arms to block it with her body.

"Nina!"

She stuck out her tongue.

With a wordless noise of anger, Eric got up and advanced towards her. Anita put her book down and slid from the room as he hit her again, she began to scream, and they started grappling, him trying to physically carry her out of the way, her kicking and scratching for all she was worth.

Just as Eric's natural laziness began to get the better of him, Anita paused in the doorway and tugged away the feeling, adding it to the store of apathy inside her power's arsenal, so recently replenished thanks to her presence for this small conflict.

Nobody asked, and she wouldn't tell, so nobody knew how subtle she could be, if she so desired. The less useful they thought she was, the less attention Heartbreaker would pay to her. The less chance of another Clara.

The fight went on for another six seconds, Nina screaming louder and louder, until Heartbreaker's heavy footsteps descended the stairs. Anita scurried into the bathroom before he passed, slamming the door and shoving her fist into her mouth as she felt the passing of his anger like an ice-cold fire. She bit down hard on her knuckles, closing her eyes, forcing herself to let it go untouched.

It's not for you, it's not for you, you're safe, it'll be okay, it's not for you.

The blossoming of fear in the living room was like a bomb, saturating the whole house. The answering prickles of anxiety from Guillaume and Nicholas as they sensed the impact on Eric and Nina. The flash of her tablet, Samuel, as he messaged her to confirm Flor had succeeded in sneaking into the vacated bedroom. He'd been tapped into both of them as the plan went down, although he was still in the tree with Imp. Most of all was the sound of her breathing, too fast, too high. She tried to focus. Heartbreaker was still standing over the other two, daring them to speak, or even move.

We succeeded, she told herself, pulling away the last vestiges of that primitive terror, the fight-or-flight adrenaline of someone angry is coming.

They'd succeeded. Everyone was tagged. Flor had, presumably, done what they'd asked, and conditioned every wife to hold their breath for five minutes before they killed anyone, including themselves.

Hopefully it would be enough for what would come next.

She got to her feet. Heartbreaker was moving back towards the stairs. She breathed a long sigh of relief, and even permitted herself a faint smile.

Halfway across the hall, Heartbreaker froze.

He turned.

Footsteps came towards the door.

She reached out and grabbed at his feelings, pulling suspicionangerthreatfocus—

Terror.

She fell to her knees and curled into a ball as everything went white.

[AN: Shortish today. We've settled into a nice Wednesday/weekend schedule over here so updates should be regular from now on.]