I was standing alone.

  Behind me was the flat image of a beach seen being projected from up above. There were people milling about, fussing over lights and cables. I knew that Jenny and Shay were somewhere nearby. We were doing the charity calendar and posters for Metas are Human. Chuck said he’d do his another day. We’d gone through some of their focus groups. The results were mixed.

  Thunderblast is hot and people really like him, I reflected, frowning. They wanted to see more of him in general, which makes sense. Professor Mind was kind of all over the place. Some people felt that he was preachy. Others liked his generally less violent approach to problems. Jenny’s been popular since before she was the Cannoneer. We’d known most of that before we started. The most surprising thing was me. People just don’t know what to make of me right now. Hard on crime and hard on the cops. Hard on Esvanir and hard on Bion. I took a few deep breaths, trying to find the inner peace that Suiren and her grandmother had worked so hard to teach me. It wasn’t all bad. People liked me. I still had a lot of fans and a lot of engagement. But Kevin thought it might be good to consolidate my image a little bit better.

  And I hated the thought. I’m not an image. I’m just a person. An influencer, sure, but I’ve always struggled to be anything but myself. And now I found myself on a photoshoot stage. Alone. Most of the photos I took were candids and they did well. And I’d done a few photoshoots before, but not really since I became Smash Gal. Mostly things alone in my bedroom, where I controlled it. For Tiktok. The only directed photoshoot I’ve ever done was Energy Bomb and that was a disaster.

  A person walked onto the stage, camera around their neck, and handed their coffee off to someone who took it without a word and stood there at the ready, available to return the coffee in an instant. I tried to get their vibe, but couldn’t manage it. They wore a blue suit that was exceedingly well-tailored, but gave no hint to what anything covered was shaped like; their collar bone was fully exposed, and they were bald but had thick, sparkling eyeshadow. Everything else about them was ambiguous; I noted a pin on their lapel that said “Any/All”, which answered one question for me. They had sharp features and sharper, almost predatory eyes. But when they looked at me, their face broke out into a bright grin. They sauntered over and shouted, “Smash Gal, dahrling!”

  I must’ve jumped a bit because they laughed musically. “Uh. Hi. K-Kari, please.”

  “Kari,” they repeated fondly. “Of course. I am your makeup artist, your wardrobe, and your photographer today. Ryany.” They extended out a long-nailed hand and I took it, shaking it carefully.

  “You sure wear a lot of hats,” I said, chuckling lamely.

  “Oh, dahrling,” they began, waving a hand. A bowler hat in the same dark blue as their suit appeared on their head. “You have no idea. Now, let us discuss what our goals are here. Consent is king, of course.”

  “O-okay,” I mumbled. Something about this person set me off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It wasn’t often that I felt someone was so much bigger than life around me. Normally, I was the bold one.

  “Firstly, for your wardrobe,” they continued, reaching over and fingered my cape, pursing their lips. “I think we start out with a few in your normal costume, because that is how we are known. Then a few in different styles. I think something casual, something summer-y. Perhaps a little more risque, depending on your comfort levels.”

  “M-more risque?” I asked, suppressing the desire to pull my cape from their probing fingers.

  “Yes. Something to replace those dreadful pictures of you floating online, hopefully.” They said, meeting my eye with sharp, golden brown ones.

  “What are you talking about?” I forced myself to stand a little taller. I towered over them but still somehow felt small.

  “Your wardrobe malfunction a while ago,” Ryany responded almost boredly. “I think you should have something more curated out there to contrast them with.” Their eyes met mine as they searched my face for something. “Don’t you agree?”

  “I . . .” Words failed me for a moment, before I gathered myself. “ I don’t want those photos out there in the first place!”

  “That bridge is well beyond kindling, Kari,” the photographer replied sympathetically. “The only thing to do now is control the narrative. And I think I can help you with that.”

  “And you think showing more is the answer?” I couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of my tone.

  “I do,” they said without a doubt. And something clicked into place. The way they spoke, the way they just said things with utter confidence, it reminded me of someone. Of Buck Cherry. This was exactly how she acted. Perpetually confident in whatever situation she was in. God, how I hate her for that. I took a deep breath. “The way I see it, those photos are already out there. They already have captured the public’s imagination against your will. There’s little we can do to take them off the internet, as Britney Spears and Janet Jackson have learned before you. And I’m legitimately sorry about that. I wish there was something we could do about their existence. But we can replace them. With something controlled. Curated.”

  “I . . . Damn it!” I muttered. The photographer raised an eye at me. “I . . . I hate that this makes sense to me.”

  “If you don’t want to do it,” they began somberly, leaning forward to squeeze my arm. “We don’t have to. I just hate to see wardrobe malfunctions dominate the attention sphere. It is your decision, ultimately.” That’s something that’s not very like Buck Cherry at all, I thought, a soft smile spreading across my face. “I don’t want to make you too uncomfortable, after all.”

  “But you want me to be a little uncomfortable?” I asked, raising an incredulous brow at them.

  “We are here to create art, darling!” They exclaimed, only an inch or two from my face. “And discomfort, in moderation, creates art. We must push boundaries. See what we can get away with sometimes. Otherwise we’re not doing anything worth doing.”

  I shook my head. That’s much more like Cherry. “I . . . C-can we take some photos before deciding?”

  “Of course, dahrling. Of course!” The strange exuberance they’d began with crawling back into their tone. “Right. We’ll start with your normal costume.”

  We spent a lot of time taking pictures for what seemed like a long time and Ryany’s demeanor shifted. Their pouty lips began to curl unpleasantly as the day went on. Eventually, they broke down, their nails scratching fecklessly at the camera. “No, no, no. This won’t do at all!”

  “What won’t?” I asked, floating down. They wanted to capture me flying, since that was one of my preferred ways of taking pictures. I always felt more comfortable in the air.

  “None of these are coming out right.” I frowned at them as they did the same down at their camera.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not used to . . .” Something occurred to me. “Ryany . . .” Slowly, morosely, their gaze crawled up to my face. “About pushing boundaries . . . I think I have an idea.”

  I led them out to the roof. The sky was a beautiful blue with clouds floating lazily off over the city. It was loud and there was a gentle wind which blew away the anxiety that had been lodged in my chest. I stepped off the ledge and floated up a little. Ryany watched me for a moment, spinning in the fresh air over the cityscape, considering. They snapped a few pictures and looked down at them, still frowning slightly.

  “Almost,” they whispered, staring down at the digital display. “But I don’t like the skyscrapers in the background. Too recognizable. Too . . . ordinary in a way. Wonder if I could get a crane here. Get us up higher. Outside of all of this noise and pollution.”

  “Do you trust me?” I asked, a smirk spreading across my face, almost adding ‘Princess’ to the end. They snapped a quick photo of this and considered for a moment, before nodding. I gathered them in my arms, princess-style, and we flew up in the sky. I heard the shutter of the camera snap a few more times as we did. After a moment or two we stopped and I floated with them for a moment, as we gazed around. “Is this high enough?”

  “I suppose,” they replied, with a nervous giggle. They’d become stiff as a board in my arms, refusing to move their head at all, lest they accidentally look down. “But my perspective is a little limited right now. I don’t know how interesting any of the pictures I can take from here can be.” I closed my eyes for a moment, concentrating. Then I landed. I felt them shift to peer down. “What did you do?”

  “One of my powers is to create little forcefields. I’m not as good at it as Professor Mind, but it’ll give you a place to stand.” Ryany looked a little green as I began to set them onto their feet. My forcefields were invisible, unlike PM’s. So, it must’ve been pretty spooky for them. They kneeled down and knocked the barrier, trying to get used to it.

  “Okay . . .” They said, not quite able to keep the fear from tightening their voice.

  “Art is about making us a little bit uncomfortable, right?” I teased. They glared up at me without heat then shooed me a few feet away. We tried several different positions as I floated up in the air and they directed me.

  “No . . . Something is still . . .” They mumbled as they were cycling through the photos they were taking. “Oh . . . That’s it. Kari. A few more, but this time, I want you to try to do this expression.” They motioned for me to look. It was the picture they’d taken of me with my smirk.

  “You really want that?” I asked, uncertainty spreading through my stomach. I looked smug.

  “I think it’s the truest form of who you are. A little condescending, but warm and friendly.” I snorted and rolled my eyes. They smiled brightly at me with sharp teeth. I flew out again and floated in the middle of the air, trying to maintain that gentle smirk. And it did feel natural. The air itself was my home in a lot of ways and everything felt right up here. They snapped a few more pictures and walked around to try to get the angle correct. They seemed to have grown used to being thousands of feet in the air too.

  So much that they moved around, trying to get another angle and didn’t bother checking to see if my barrier was still there. Their foot slipped off one and they went hurdling towards the ground. Ryany started to scream as they careened down towards the city streets far below. I panicked for a second, thinking about what I could do. I could create another forcefield. But slamming onto that right now would really hurt. Fuck! I charged down, still trying to work through what to do. Ryany had stopped screaming, and was just staring up at the sky behind me as I charged down at them. As I closed in, they raised the camera and snapped another photo.

  “Really!?” I demanded, gathering them in my arms and we landed on the roof of their building again and they pushed themselves out of my arms and kneeled on the ground, trying to catch their breath.

  “Alright . . .” they managed, breathlessly. “Boundaries pushed. No more sky adventures . . .”

  I looked at them and their hands were shaking. I put a comforting hand on their shoulder and they looked up at me, tears in their eyes. “I’m sorry, Ryany. I . . .”

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  “Oh, no no no,” they insisted, weakly. “Let’s take five. I’ll look through the pictures and see what we have. Then we’re going to do the other sets.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, my guilt not quite assuaged.

  It’d been a few days since my fights with Bion and Thunderblast. I had mostly recovered and had been a little high-strung. Bion can track me. I need to do something to prevent that. He was still in the hospital, my anti-Smash Gal rod having torn through one of his already damaged lungs. But that doesn’t mean he can’t send one of his drones my way. Shame it didn’t hit his fucking heart, I thought bitterly. Damn thing’s probably even more atrophied than the rest of him.

  The solution that I’d come up with in the meantime was to send a cloned version of my phone through several different other sites at random intervals, never sticking in one place for more than a few minutes at a time. It was incredibly wasteful, but until I was sure I wasn’t being tracked, there was little I could do about that. Some part of my technology required geolocation and that was just hard to hide, to one degree or another. Think I’ll have to go with the old criminal standard: burner phones.

  Unfortunately, Bion wasn’t my only worry. There were the Acolytes. Tierra and Cindi had been handling a lot of things and we had broken up into teams. I was constantly sending people out all over the world to offer aid in various forms. Sometimes it was defense from corporations trying to reclaim whatever tech we’d stolen. Sometimes we stood against police forces cracking down on protestors world-wide. It wasn’t all violence, though. Sometimes it was installing pumps and offering food. Sometimes it was delivering materials to make sustainable changes in parts of the world that needed it.

  And I’d help where I could. But I couldn’t be everywhere, unfortunately. Not even with the ability to teleport. Cindi had done a lot of work to get them to resemble something remotely useful to me, creating several small teams and had started deploying them. She’s actually a surprisingly good team manager. Tierra helped her, I guess, but even still, I’d have never predicted that.

  The Acolytes were responding. One of the projects that she’d set out was to give back copies of all of the reclaimed technologies that I had doled out and the copyright owners had taken back over the years. The corporations didn’t always do that. Sometimes, they’d extend a hand to help those underprivileged people with their needs as a publicity stunt. Or maybe, faced with the reality of malnutrition, dehydration, and death, the enforcers’ hearts grew three sizes bigger. But I, for whatever reason, doubt that it was their hearts guiding them. Especially when several of these projects would still be reclaimed after the cameras were no longer capturing the events.

  But, under Cindi’s careful eye, the Acolytes had given a lot of technologies, like water filtration systems, vaccines, and various tools to make every day life just a little less shit, back to those who needed it and left behind some people to fight back any pesky people looking to take what we’d fairly stolen. Though, maybe it’d be better to train the people themselves to defend against these things. I sighed, and not for the first time, thought, This is too much. I shouldn’t be making these decisions for anyone else.

  I found Cherry sitting, bare feet on the desk. One of the Acolytes, Billy, I think, was standing just to the side of her, holding a plate of grapes. Tierra and Des were cuddled up on the couch.

  “Essy, darling!” My wife exclaimed. “You’re back. Have you figured out the . . . whatever you were doing?”

  “I have continued to diversify the GPS standards we use, but I haven’t figured out a way to hide the energy signature of any individual teleport. The energy usually dissipates pretty quickly, but I still don’t like it.” I explained eyeing my wife being fed a grape by the man to her side. “Billy . . . I . . .”

  “Oh, do you want a grape, sir?” He asked, smiling brightly, offering the tray. I heard Des titter behind me. I took a deep breath.

  “Billy, you don’t actually have to stand here and serve us grapes.” I managed to keep most of the exasperation out of my tone. Cherry’s lips twitched in a strange way, an expression I couldn’t quite place. Billy stood there for a moment longer, before placing the tray on the desk and making his way out. He looked scared. I sighed. “Thank you, Billy.”

  He paused at the door, for a moment. “Of course, Esvanir, sir.”

  “Just . . . Esvanir’s fine.” I deflated.

  “Madam Cherry, is that true?” He asked, looking past him. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Des and Tierra both suppressing mighty giggle fits. I looked to Cherry, who nodded, sagely, at the boy. He smiled brightly and left.

  “Madam Cherry?” I asked. Cindi smiled up at me brightly.

  “It’s just for fun. The boy looks up to me.” She walked through the desk and kissed me on the cheek. “To you too.”

  “I don’t think we need to encourage this worship. What are you trying to set yourself up as, Queen Cherry?” I asked.

  “More God-Empress Cherry, may she reign forever,” my wife said, mischievousness dripping from her lips. I pulled out of her arms.

  “Okay, your highness.” She pouted at me but I directed my attention to the other problem in the room. “Des, why are you here?”

  “You missed your follow-up. Again.” I rolled my eyes. After my fight with Thunderblast and Bion, Cherry and Tierra had both insisted that I see the doctor. Which was unnecessary then and even more unnecessary now.

  “I’m fine. If I need a follow-up, I’ll text you,” I replied with a shrug, looking over some proposals that were spread across the desk. Despite not being an official organization, the desk was covered in a bunch of paperwork. I sighed and shook my head. How the fuck do I do more paperwork as a criminal than I did in IT? I asked myself. Most of what was there were updates and requests for approval on the actions of the Acolytes.

  One of the proposals was from Ruth. She wanted to provide faster internet to some of the war-torn areas so that they could stay connected. She was recommending Gaza, Ukraine, and Lebanon. It’s not a bad idea. Maybe possible. My mind started racing. We could replace the supply lines that allowed those pagers to be replaced with bombs. One of the easier ways would just be to steal a set of cellphones, but that comes with its own risks. They can be mitigated, but it’d require some work, but I wouldn’t have to do it alone. Hell, she may even be able to handle this project herself, once I explain my idea.

  Another thought occurred to me. I could use the decoy teleports to disguise shipments as well. Runs the risk of them being tracked down, but it’s less wasteful. It wouldn’t even be hard to figure out how to do that. Still probably need some man-power to protect anything, but that’s better than nothing. I stretched my stiff neck.

  “You don’t get to make that decision!” Des shouted, cutting through my thoughts. They disentangled themself from Tierra’s arms, who glared at me. I shrugged as a half-hearted apology. “You collapsed with a concussion, broken ribs, god only knows what else. You need rest. Short of that, you need me to make sure you’re on your feet.”

  “What I need is to make sure we’re safe,” I retorted without heat. “I have too much work to do! I can’t run to you every time I get a nosebleed.”

  “Has your nose been bleeding?” Des asked, seriously.

  “No,” I lied. They narrowed their eyes on me. Cherry was also looking at me suspiciously. “Fine! Let’s do the checkup so that you can return to your pouting girlfriend’s arms and I can get back to things that actually matter.” Tierra’s expression sharpened. I met her gaze easily. She rolled her eyes, tongue clicking.

  We went to a private office and Des went through their extensive checklist on my health. Ultimately, their prognosis was the same as always. “Your blood pressure is high and you need rest.”

  “I can rest when I’m dead,” I shot back.

  “Which will be next week if you keep this up,” Des countered.

  “Then we can schedule the follow-up for a week after that,” I said, heat quickly fading from my tone.

  “Have you talked to Professor Mind again?” Des asked, changing the subject.

  “No, not really. It’s been a little busy around here.”

  “You can’t keep burning through yourself at both ends like this. Fighting superheroes and running . . . whatever this is.”

  “Tierra and Cin are taking care of a lot of it,” I mumbled. “Whether or not I want them to.”

  “Let them,” Des muttered, sitting next to me. “You don’t need to do everything.”

  “I’m not doing everything!” Even I could hear the defensiveness in my tone. “Just what I can.”

  “Curt,” they muttered, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Shut up.” They were silent for another long moment. “What about another vacation?”

  “I just got back from vacation!” I exclaimed, pulling out of their grip. “That was only . . .” I froze, trying to calculate how long it had actually been. It does feel like years. Fuck. “Six months ago?” Des just stared at me, their point proven. I shifted out of their arms and crossed the room. “I-I’ll think about it, okay?”

  They stared at me for another long moment before nodding. “Good enough, I guess.” The door opened and Crowley poked his head through the gap.

  “Ah, good. Mister Reese. I’ve been looking for you.” He eyed Des, puzzling their existence. For their part, Des was doing the same to him. I rubbed my face for a moment, trying to wipe away the fatigue, the irritation.

  “Des, we done here?”

  “Yeah. Ti and Cindi were talking about getting dinner later, though.” I shrugged. Truthfully, I didn’t really want to have another dinner with Tierra. She’s capable and I’m glad that Cin and Des have her in their lives . . . But she fucking hates me. And I can’t blame her for that.

  “I’ll see if I can make it. I still have a lot of work to do.” Des left the room and Crowley stepped in.

  “Who is that?” He asked, eyeing them as they did so.

  “My proctologist. They’re a pain in the ass, but worth it,” I replied. Des flipped me off as the door closed. “Mostly.”

  “Ah,” Crowley replied. “I need to talk to you about the direction of our organization.” I sighed, turning away from the man to stare out the window.

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t like the direction you’re taking us. None of this will change anything.”

  “Community organizing helps a lot of people.” I muttered, barely having the energy to bother with this conversation. I didn’t care about the man’s opinion. “So much so that when the Black Panthers did it, the breakfast programs were so successful, they forced the state government to recreate them, just so us dirty communists didn’t get the credit.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar,” Crowley replied, his mouth twisting. “But they were never going to make real change. And neither are we, if we don’t actually start dismantling the power structures.”

  “We’ve been getting supplies to people all over the world. Some of them are weapons.” My counter was half-hearted at best. “But we’re not an army. And I’m not going to be a part of some half-cocked terrorist group.”

  “Cowardice!” Crowley closed the distance. I didn’t back up. I wasn’t afraid of the man. He towered over me, thin and willowy. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back. As quick as a viper, he slammed something into my stomach. I heard a snapping buzz, my entire body went stiff and I collapsed.

  I walked out of Ryany’s studio, taking out a vape, puffing a few times. I knew it was a disgusting habit, and I’d tried to kick it a few times, but there were few things that could relax me like a little nicotine. We’d been shooting for hours and had made great progress. But Ryany’s a perfectionist. Everything needs to be just right. He’d found a way to bring out Kari’s charms. Jenny was always charming. And he was great. And that was the problem. A lot of photographers will take a few pictures and choose the best out of what they get. But Ryany needs to see something in you before he’s satisfied. And he will pull it out of you. Even if you’re not sure you have anything to give.

  And that was exhausting. So, I leaned against the building and puffed my vape. Despite my attempts to relax, my senses were abuzz. The hum of powerlines, all of the radio signals all around me. It’s impossible to relax in the city. In some ways, I liked that. There was always something to do. But right now, it was too much. I kicked off the wall and started towards my car.

  I felt an alarm go off. It was half a block down. I closed my eyes and honed in on the signal. It was a car alarm. I dashed down the street, and found a man, or a kid, really, hunched over the window of a car, a slim jim in his hand. I stomped in front of him and he jumped, almost dropping his tool. I couldn’t quite keep the incredulousness out of my voice when I asked, “This your car?”

  “W-what!?” He demanded before pointing the tool at me. “Stay back! I’ll hurt you.”

  “Didn’t think so.” I almost laughed at the punk. It might’ve been funny, if it hadn’t been so lame. Instead, I pointed a finger and an arc flew from it to the slim jim, down the metal and into his hand. He dropped it, yelping. I gave him my most bored look and he started backing away.

  “H-hey, man,” he started, holding up his hands in surrender.

  “Don’t run,” I replied softly. He ran. And I shot a bolt of electricity out. A small one. Just enough to give him a scare. His legs locked awkwardly from a moment, as his muscles contracted and he stumbled into a trashcan, knocking it over. I walked over and leaned down. “I told you not to run.”

  I was about to call the cops, but that’s when I caught another radio signal. A police signal. I focused on it. “Thunderblast engaged an unidentified male. Heading that way.” Within another twenty seconds or so, there were two police SUVs pulling up. Four cops came out. None of their weapons were out. At least there’s that, I thought, bitterly.

  “Hey,” I began, putting on my best smile. “You guys are fast.”

  “What do we have here?” One of the officers, an older man, asked.

  “Attempted Grand theft auto,” I answered him, trying to keep my smile. “Looks more like San Andreas than IV or V.”

  “And you just happened to be here?” He asked. “Sure seems lucky.”

  “Y-yeah,” I replied, my smile fading into gritted teeth. “I was just down the street doing a photoshoot. Felt the alarm go off. Found this man with a slim jim. Confronted him. He tried to run. I stopped him.”

  “And you expect something for that, boy?”

  “No, sir.” I tried to keep a deferential tone, but my annoyance was getting the better of me. “Just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, we’ve seen the kind of help your kind gives,” another officer, a woman, added in. I watched her for a moment, eyebrow raised.

  “My kind?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

  “Vigilantes,” the first officer clarified for her. “We’ll take it from here. For everyone’s safety.” There was a weight to those words.

  “Course,” I replied, stepping out of the way. One of the officers went to cuff the man, not bothering to check on him. He stirred and the cop started reading him his rights. Something I don’t think they’d be all that willing to do for me.

  I watched them carting the man away. They kept glancing back at me, tense, like they expected something to happen. I shrugged and started on my way. They didn’t stop me, but I could feel their eyes on me still. I stood a little straighter, waiting for something to happen too. When I got in my car, I sat for a moment, considering.

  Why had they been heading my way before I even called?

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