“Hey.”

  Jack was dead, I couldn’t believe it. So much time, so much preparation, so much sacrificed and now, finally… “Yo, Lia.” I waited for something to happen, some stupid twist of fate to send me spinning back, rob me of my victory. “Hey, you good?” Was that his body twitching? Had Bonesaw put his brain somewhere else and made him effectively immune to headshots. “Uhh, sorry ‘bout this.” I had to make su—

  A whip-crack smack struck my cheek and threw my head to the side. I blinked once, twice. Turning back, I saw Zeke staring at me with a mixture of concern and fear. He held up his hands slowly, waving them back and forth.

  “You back now?” Zeke asked nervously, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of Weaver’s repeating cries.

  “I never left,” I said, shaking my head. “Sorry, I just…” I glanced to Jack’s body, then back to him. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Let’s grab Joy and J,” Zeke offered. “Make sure we ain’t seein—” A wracking cough doubled him over, and I reached out to support him. “God damn.”

  “That gas fucked you up,” I said. “Just wait here, sit down. I’ll get them.”

  “Shit was like the nastiest blunt you ever hit,” he wheeze, stifling another cough. “Knocked me on my ass, but Weaver dragged us clear.”

  “Sit,” I said, making it an order. I helped him down, then stood and rolled my shoulders. “Just breathe, I’ll get the others.”

  Zeke mumbled an affirmative and I jogged around Weaver back to the stairs, then down them, nearly slipping twice in my haste. The thick, purple smoke had cleared, and just beyond where it had been were Joy and J-Dog. Both were sitting up, but their heads were hanging. At least they were aware enough to raise them when they heard me approaching.

  “How bad is it?” I asked.

  “Bad,” Joy wheezed. “Hurts...breathing, speaking.”

  “She got the worst,” J-Dog said, then coughed. “Zeke was...at the back.” He sucked in a rattling breath. “He good?”

  “He’s great,” I said, finally letting a smile touch my lips. “Soon as you’re ready to move, I’ll help you up to the top. You’ve...you won’t believe me if I tell you.” They shared a look, then a brief coughing fit.

  It took them a few minutes to recover enough to slowly stand, with some assistance. Both of them leaned heavily on me as we climbed the stairs, something that took longer than when I’d been doing it with Jack attacking me. When we finally reached the top, they were horrified to find Weaver trapped and screaming on repeat. I explained what happened, throat tightening.

  Weaver hadn’t deserved it. I wasn’t sure why she decided to take the hit instead of me, and now I’d never know. The sound of her cries made me shudder, and I helped Joy and J over to where Zeke stood, if only to get away from them just a little.

  “Hey, how you two holding up?” Zeke asked as we approached. “Look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” Joy rasped. “You too.” Zeke chuckled as I helped them down. Once they were seated, I took a step back.

  “So,” I said, taking a deep breath and pointing to the mound of bloody containment foam beneath the obelisk. “Jack’s dead, we did it.” They turned slowly, eyes widening at the sight.

  “That’s…” Joy pursed her lips. “Really?”

  “Zeke laid the charges himself,” I replied. “And threw the confoam grenade that trapped him. Really did it all.”

  “Couldn’t have done it if you weren’t a damn good distraction,” Zeke said, leaning over and smacking my knee. “That guy loved to talk, and you kept him yapping.”

  “I try,” I said with a tight smile. “Nice trick with the glove, by the way.”

  “The glove?” J-Dog said, giving Zeke a look.

  “Stuffed my glove in his mouth and zipped it shut,” Zeke said, sounding a little bashful. “He was saying shit ‘bout how we lost, how his crew was gonna gut us and shit. Got tired of listening to it so…”

  “So...now what?”

  We all fell silent at Joy’s question. It was a good one, one I didn’t really have an answer to for once. For all my planning, my prep, my thinking, and my attempts; I’d never once considered what I was going to do after. And with Taylor down, I was in charge once more.

  “Let’s get to the perimeter,” I said at last. “Get word to the Protectorate about what—”

  “Amaranth!” a furious voice shouted.

  I frowned and turned to see Tattletale storming towards us, pistol in hand. She was trailed by Grue, Imp, and someone I sure as hell didn’t expect to see here. Flechette trailed behind the Undersiders, cradling an oversized crossbow in her arms. Her costume was different to the one she’d worn in the Wards, a darker shade of purple with silvery piping along the seams. They climbed a set of steps and joined us in the square.

  “Tattletale.” I reached for my own gun and found it missing. Dammit, probably caught by one of Jack’s strikes. “You sound way too pissed considering we just won.”

  “And what’d it cost?” Tattletale demanded, gesturing sharply to the screaming Taylor.

  “She...saved me,” I said slowly.

  “I’m fucking aware,” Tattletale snapped. “Why the fuck didn’t you see it coming you twit?”

  “It’s…” I swallowed and lowered my voice. “It’s my first time getting this far.” She narrowed her eyes, then they widened and she took a step back.

  “Shit on me,” she swore, glancing nervously between me and my team. “And how many—”

  “Later,” I cut her off. “Please just...we need to report to the Protectorate before they bomb the place.”

  “Bomb it?” Tattletale scoffed. “That was never their plan, they were waiting for someone.”

  “Someone?”

  She pointed up and I followed her finger, swallowing hard. A pinpoint of golden light was rapidly growing on the horizon, the snow having lightened just enough to see. All the chaos, all the bloodshed, probably comparable to an Endbringer attack. Had that been his plan all along? Then it had been that close.

  “That’s…” I swallowed against my dry throat. “Holy shit.”

  “We could use a hand,” Joy wheezed, grabbing my arm to help herself up. I hooked my arm around her back and gripped her belt to steady her. “Got hit by...by one of the Nine’s clones.”

  “Nyx,” Tattletale said, looking Joy over with a cold gaze. It softened ever so slightly and she sighed. “Yeah, come on.”

  Grue helped J-Dog out, and Zeke was well enough now to limp along under his own power. As I looked them over, I realized all three had nasty cuts that had been hastily bandaged. Now the gauze was darkening as they bled through it, but none of them complained. When I pointed it out to Joy, she just said she hoped there was an ambulance waiting.

  The walk away from the square was...strange. We won, we’d saved the world, so why did it feel so...hollow? All I felt was tired, sore, and sad that I hadn’t done it perfectly. Eighteen times and for what? For Reese to lose a leg? For Taylor to get trapped in a hellish timeloop like I was?

  I could try again. Now I knew where everything was going. It would be easy, at least easier than anything else I’d done over my past attempts. I knew Tattletale would be here, I knew Grey Boy would attack when we reached the top of the stairs. It would be so easy…

  “Hey,” Joy coughed as we headed up the street. “Know what you’re thinking. Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I asked, suppressing a frown.

  “We won,” she muttered. “Don’t give that up.”

  “But you’re hurt,” I said. “Reese is crippled, Weaver is…” I chewed my lip.

  “I’d give my life for a result like this,” Joy said firmly. “Saving the world? It’s worth it Lia, don’t you dare give it up.”

  “Fine,” I muttered. “I just...I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Joy said. “We won Lia, we won.”

  I tried to beat that into my skull as we headed to the Protectorate’s lines.

  “Stop right there!” a commanding voice bellowed. “Identify yourselves!”

  “Tattletale and the Undersiders,” Tattletale called back, stopping in the middle of the road. The rest of us halted behind her, staring at the line of heroes and PRT troopers ahead. “With special guest: the Terriers.”

  “Can you verify your—”

  “Hyena Sour Eighteen, and what the hell is that supposed to mean?” There was a brief pause after she rattled off presumably some Master-Stranger code I’d never been given.

  “Proceed, but keep your hands away from your weapons.”

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. Like we were in any state to fight. A break in the line formed as we approached, but I saw every trooper tracking us with their weapons. Hopefully they were just paranoid about us being disguised clones. If not...well, I guess I’d be on my way back to the Birdcage pretty quick. As we passed through the lines, I saw two familiar heroes waiting for us.

  “Amaranth,” Miss Militia said, looking us all over. “You’re injured.”

  “Did you engage Jack Slash?” Chevalier demanded, all business. I took a deep breath and drew myself up as best I could, still supporting Joy.

  “Jack Slash is dead,” I said. “My team engaged and killed him. It’s...it’s over.”

  “Is this true?” he said, looking to Tattletale.

  “I saw it,” Tattletale confirmed. “They made sure. He’s not coming back.”

  There was a long, heavy pause. A sudden whoop broke the silence, soon joined by cheers from the troopers that heard, then more as the word spread. Soon the entire line was celebrating the victory. I stared at them silently, numbly, then Joy smacked my back and started me out of it.

  “Can we get a medic?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the cheers.

  “Of course,” Miss Militia said, pressing a finger to her ear and speaking quietly.

  “Are you in need of immediate medical aid, Amaranth?” Chevalier asked.

  “I mean, my arm’s bleeding, I can’t really catch my breath, and I feel like it’d be easier to fall over than move another inch.” I shrugged. “I’m fine, all things considered.”

  “Then I’d like you to lead us to the site of your battle so we can confirm things.”

  I sighed and nodded, no way I was getting out of this. I turned Joy over to the care of a medic when they finally arrived, then turned back the way we’d come. Chevalier, Miss Militia, two other heroes I didn’t know, and a PRT tactical squad fell in behind me, and I led them back to the square I’d come from.

  It took a little while, I hadn’t been kidding about the state I was in. My arm was throbbing, the line Jack’s knife had cut burned as it bled freely down my limb. My muscles were stiff and painfully sore, forcing me into a stilted limp. Not that the heroes cared, their eyes were constantly scanning for any remaining threats, looking anywhere but me.

  Probably didn’t want to acknowledge what a villain had done for them. Whatever, I wasn’t in this for glory or recognition. Jack was dead, the world wasn’t about to end anytime soon, and for once I didn’t have to worry about what came next.

  A bark of laughter escaped my lips, and I got a few odd looks from the heroes. What came next? God only fucking knew, and god only cared. I was free. Even if I went back to the Birdcage tomorrow and lived out my days in a cell, I was finally unshackled. I didn’t have to sacrifice everything for a tomorrow I dreaded. Now, every choice I made would be for me, not for any greater good or supposedly just cause.

  Selfish, no doubt, but I could finally afford it. Fuck the heroes and villains, this whole shitty system. All it had done was screw me left and right from day one. The best friends I’d had were on the outside of things, and that was where I’d found my place. Maybe we could go to Gimel and stake out on our own, find some peace for ourselves.

  “What’s that noise?” Chevalier asked as we approached the square, jolting me from my thoughts.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I replied, gesturing to the monument atop the small hill. “Screaming.”

  It wasn’t easy to ignore, and that only got harder the closer we got. The heroes ordered most of the troopers to remain at the base of the hill, following me up only after a quiet, tense conversation. Obviously worried about some trap or another, but we made it to the top without incident, and the heroes were horrified by the sight.

  “Is that…” One of the unknown heroes swallowed hard.

  “Weaver,” I confirmed. “She saved me, probably helped save everyone. I don’t know if there’s a way to get her out or—”

  “It was Grey Boy?” Chevalier asked.

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod, gesturing to his body, laying next to Taylor’s bubble. “Flechette got him, I think. Jack’s over there, just past Weaver.”

  “Inside the confoam?” he said.

  “What’s left anyway.”

  I led them past Taylor and towards the bloody blob of confoam that encased Jack. At a sharp order from Miss Militia, a PRT trooper wielding a spray gun stepped forward. He flicked a switch and started hosing down the confoam. I caught the smell on the breeze, the stinging scent of solvent. It took a couple minutes, but soon the foam sloughed away from Jack’s body and revealed his remains to the heroes.

  “The outfit is consistent with previous observations,” Miss Militia said as she studied the body. “Evidence around of strikes from his power as well.” I stepped over to the headless corpse and knelt beside it, scanning up and down. “What are you doing?”

  “Ah.” I reached out and pried the knife Jack had cut me with from his hand. I studied it as I rose. A glittering, black blade with an edge that seemed to disappear when I held it at the right angle. “This was it, broke my projection and cut me pretty bad.”

  “That’s a dangerous weapon then,” Miss Militia said carefully, holding out a hand. I drew the knife closer to me. “Amaranth…”

  “Consider it my fee,” I said sharply. “I lost every weapon I had today, I’m not leaving here unarmed.” The trooper with the confoam sprayer turned towards me, raising his weapon. “Let’s put a pin in this for now, okay? I’m outnumbered and outgunned, and I’m not going to turn this win into a loss, okay?”

  “That’s unacce—”

  “Very well,” Miss Militia cut Chevalier off, getting a sharp look from the head of the Protectorate. “I believe we can afford to be lenient, for now.” I sighed and offered a small grin.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t make us regret this,” she said gravely.

  I nodded and quickly scavenged Jack’s body for the scabbard, on his belt unsurprisingly, then stepped away and left the PRT to their work. The scabbard was heavy and cold, with a pale, teardrop gem in the center. Looking closer, I could see a patterning in the metal, not quite pictures, but too regular to be random. A beautiful cage for a dangerous blade.

  The knife went into the scabbard, and that went into my pocket. The PRT guys had put Jack in a body bag and were taking pictures of the area like it was a crime scene. Chevalier and the other two heroes had gone back to Weaver and were examining her prison. God, I really hoped they could find a way to get her out. I had no clues…

  “So, what happened?” Miss Militia asked, looking at the slowly freezing pile of liquefied confoam. “I know your team was working independently of us, and Weaver informed us you were moving into the square, but that’s all.”

  “Well…” I took a deep breath.

  It was fresh in my mind, but describing it still felt almost dreamy, like it was just a delusion I’d had. I told her about the approach, Nyx’s surprise attack, Weaver’s sacrifice, and finally Zeke’s ambush and victory. She called Chevalier over and made me repeat the fight with Jack, as though she couldn’t believe it. But I was clear: Zeke had thrown the grenade, Zeke had killed Jack. I just fought and distracted him.

  “You understand why I find that difficult to believe,” Miss Militia said once I’d finished.

  “It was hard for me too,” I said, shrugging. “But I went with my gut, and I’m sure it was the key. Jack’s never been beaten by a parahuman right? Even the Triumvirate couldn’t stand a chance. We threw our best at him and he always got out. But a regular person with a bit of training?”

  “He’d never see it coming,” Chevalier said thoughtfully.

  “No one would,” I said. “And maybe that was the point, it’s so counter-intuitive, you’d have to be crazy.”

  “We’ll need to get his side of things,” Miss Militia said. “Do you think he’ll cooperate?”

  “I think it’ll be hard to shut him up,” I said dryly. “Go easy on him, okay?”

  “Go easy?” Chevalier scoffed. “I think that will be quite difficult, considering the praise he’ll be getting.”

  “So...we’re good?” I asked hesitantly.

  “There’s going to need to be a discussion about what happens to you,” Miss Militia said. “In the mean time, you’ll need to be put in custody.”

  “Come on,” I groaned. “I’m on the team that saves the world and I’m going back to prison?”

  “We’ll see,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Will you at least cooperate so we don’t have to shackle you?” I sighed and nodded.

  They led me back to their lines and into a van, sending me off to another jail. At least now I had nothing to worry about…

  When Miss Militia had said ‘custody’, I expected a cell like the one I’d been thrown into after breaking Werwolf’s back. Instead I was put up in a suite in the New York City Protectorate’s headquarters, like the one I’d lived in after Leviathan laid waste to Brockton Bay. They’d informed me the door was locked and there were guards outside, but that didn’t really matter to me, I’d only asked about my team.

  Apparently they were in the infirmary being treated, so I could rest easy. I didn’t even bother to removed my ragged, sodden clothes. I just fell face down on the bed and passed out. No dreams, no night terrors, nothing but silence for the first time in a long, long time. Hours passed I started from my dreamless sleep suddenly, a chill running up my back.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I pushed myself off the bed and twisted around, fists raised. But I was alone, the room was empty save for me. I practically jumped out of my skin as a knock rang out from the door, sharp and loud. Sighing, I rubbed my tired eyes and strode to the door to find out who was disturbing me.

  “Amaranth.” It was Miss Militia, looking bedraggled and exhausted. “May I come in? I’d...like to speak with you, if that’s alright.”

  “Do I need my lawyer?” I asked, half-joking.

  “It’s not that kind of conversation,” she said, sounding mildly hurt. I frowned and took a step back.

  “Alright, come on,” I said, turning around and heading inside.

  I peeled off my shredded jacket and dumped it on the floor by the closet, then took a seat at the small dining table nearby. My arm throbbed and I adjusted the bandages to make it a little more comfortable. Miss Militia sat across from me and pulled down her mask, studying me quietly.

  “So,” Miss Militia began after a moment. “Now what?” I snorted.

  “Now?” I leaned back in my chair. “I go back to the Birdcage, I guess; no reward for the wicked. The world moves on, everyone forgets about this when the next disaster happens.” A smile touched my lips, but didn’t make it to my eyes. “But we won, so who cares?”

  “I mean what comes next,” she said, her tone dropping a few degrees. “What more do you remember?”

  “Miss Militia…” I sighed and shook my head. There was one thing and...well, maybe she deserved to know. “Okay, one more secret to tell. But, nothing about it leaves this room. It’s too dangerous, not to other people but to me.” She took a deep breath, then offered a slow nod.

  “Alright,” Miss Militia said. “I believe you’ve earned that much at least.”

  “Thanks.” I swallowed and scratched the back of my neck. “So, I’ve talked about my...precog stuff before, but there’s another angle to it. Yes, I remember events from a story, but nothing from the past...I don’t know, nine months? It’s all been off the rails, and tonight was no different. Except this wasn’t the first time I’ve fought this battle.

  “Every time I die, I go back in time,” I continued, ignoring the fear clutching my chest. “And I died a lot to see this through. Leviathan, the Nine back home, Behemoth, it was the same with all of them. I got good at dying, and eventually I figured out surviving, and now I finally figured out how to win.

  “I don’t want to tell you,” I said, voice trembling. “And now you know why. If I died now, because someone decided the results weren’t what they wanted, look at what we’d lose, what I’d lose. So don’t let this slip, I...I can’t do this again.” I wiped at tears as they snaked down my cheeks, staring down at the table.

  “My god,” Miss Militia breathed. Glancing up, I saw her expression was sorrowful. “By dying, do you mean…?”

  “I mean I’ve been stabbed, shot, burned alive, melted by acid, drowned, drowned, drowned.” I grimaced. Yeah...no wonder the idea of swimming made my heart pound. “I’ve felt my life slipping away quickly, slowly, painfully; I’ve heard the last breath leave my lungs more times than I can count. Worse, I’ve had to do it myself, after watching the people I love die. They’re still alive because I did, but I still remember.”

  “You’re not lying...are you?”

  “Not anymore,” I replied hoarsely. She reached across the table and gripped my hand firmly. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “I won’t,” she promised. “Thank you Lia for...for finally trusting me.”

  “Wish I could have earlier,” I muttered. “Would have saved me some trouble.”

  “Maybe so,” she agreed, her grip on my hand tightening. “But I understand why you didn’t.”

  “That’s the whole story,” I said, feeling more exhausted than I had after fighting Jack. “So I have to ask you, Miss Militia: now what?” She pursed her lips, pulling her hand away from mine.

  “I suppose you mean what happens to you?” Miss Militia asked.

  “In part,” I said, shrugging.

  “We’ll see,” she said, her tone studiously neutral. “This...isn’t exactly an incident with precedent.”

  “Escaping the Birdcage to save the world? Yeah, I guess not.” We shared a smile. “At least I won’t be uncomfortable while I’m waiting for you to decide.”

  “Is there anything you need?” Miss Militia asked as she rose.

  “Any healers around for my arm?” I said.

  “I’ll ask if Pandora can bump you up her triage list.”

  “Amy’s here?” I felt sweat pricking at my back. “No...no it’s fine, don’t bother her; it’s really not that bad.” I couldn’t…

  “Are you sure?” Miss Militia said, sounding concerned.

  “I’m fine, really.” I swallowed against my dry throat and offered a weak smile. “Besides, a scar’s a souvenir.” She knit her brows for a moment, but didn’t push it further. We said our goodbyes and I was once again alone.

  That, at least, I knew I deserved.

  When I woke again, it was dark out, the lights of New York dimmer than they should have been. I rose and stretched, wincing as my joints popped and my arm stung. Checking that my knife was still in my pocket, I walked into the kitchen for a midnight snack, then nearly jumped out of my skin.

  I wasn’t alone. Sitting at the table, hands folded in front of her, was Contessa. The boogeyman stared quietly at me for a moment, cocking her head. I didn’t bother drawing my knife, this wasn’t a fight I could win; at least, not with any conventional weapon. Instead I sat at the table across from her, scowling.

  “How nice of you to drop by,” I said with as much sarcasm as my tired, aching body could manage. “If you’d called ahead, I’d have made tea.”

  “Don’t be coy, Amaranth,” Contessa said coldly. “You know why I’m here.”

  “Do I?” I asked, leaning back. “Our mission succeeded, we prevented the end of the world. I can’t fathom why you’d be here.” She stared quietly and my scowl deepened. “Unless I was...tattled on.”

  “You know what the actual mission was,” she said, her voice dropping a few more degrees. “And we know you can still accomplish it.” She put a small cylinder on the table. “It will be quick, painless.” I grit my teeth until I felt my jaw cramping.

  “You’re an idiot,” I spat. “Thinking I’d cooperate with you to kill billions.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “And you’re too late anyway.” As she frowned, I felt a smile touch my face. “Do your worst, I’ll see you in a minute.” Her brows knit and she grabbed the cylinder, twisting it and setting it back down before stepping through a portal.

  As the breath was torn violently from my lungs, I was able to reflect before my consciousness faded that she was wrong; it was quick, but certainly not painless.

  When I rose from my bed in the dark room of the Protectorate’s headquarters, I drew my knife and headed straight into the kitchen. The boogeyman bitch was sitting right there, hands folded, face neutral, like she hadn’t just murdered me and was getting ready to once more. I strode over to the table and slammed the knife into the center of it.

  “Try that again,” I said shakily as adrenaline surged. “Try to use your little vacuum bomb, I’ll make sure you feel it too.” She stared at me silently for a moment, then sighed and rose.

  “I concede,” Contessa said flatly. “Keep quiet about our operations, and Cauldron won’t trouble you. Come when we need you for the real end of things, and we can consider your favour fulfilled.” I blinked.

  “Just like that?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “Just like that,” she said, as if she couldn’t either. “You have a strange, dangerous power Amaranth, but it will be useful. Come when the world needs you, and stay quiet until then, that is all we ask.” Contessa rose and vanished into a portal, leaving me alone.

  A laugh bubbled up from deep within, and within moments I found myself cackling almost manically in my room. With that, my victory was secured. It cost me only minutes, and just a little more pain. But with that, even Contessa had given up.

  Lucky it had only been minutes, not hours or...or worse. I’d been pretty sure how my power worked, and this was at least some kind of confirmation. When I finally felt safe, relaxed, that was where I’d go back to. Maybe that was why, no matter how many times I did it, it was always such a jolt.

  And what safer place then a comfortable suite with a view of the city, nestled deep in the Protectorate’s fortress, secure in the knowledge that Jack was a headless corpse? I walked over to the window and took a long look out at the city, a smile on my face. It was in rough shape, there were still fires burning where major battles had taken place. The casualties had been heavy, civilian and hero alike, but it was all worth it.

  Hopefully everyone who knew my secret would see that, eventually.

  I was fixing breakfast for myself after dawn had finally come, some plain oatmeal that had been in the cupboard, when another knock came at my door. I turned down the temperature on the burner and sighed, wiping my hands before going to answer it. Could barely be left alone for an hour in this damn place without someone bothering me.

  At least this time, I was happy to see the people coming to bug me.

  “Lia!” Joy swept me up in a tight hug, startling me so much I couldn’t resist; not that I would have. My arms wrapped around her back and I squeeze her tight. “Are you okay?” she asked, pulling back and looking me over. “Your arm, it’s—”

  “A flesh wound,” I reassured her, smiling widely. “What about you? And the guys?”

  “See for yourself,” she said, letting me go and stepping inside.

  “Hey girl,” Zeke said, stepping in after her and slapping my shoulder.

  “Lia,” Reese rumbled, nodding. He had his arm around J-Dog’s shoulders, and I gave them some room to come in.

  All of them looked...fine, for the most part. Clearly tired, but the worst of their injuries had been healed. Even Reese, his right leg a stump ending just below his knee, had a smile on his face. We headed to the little living room, crowding onto the pair of small couches. I cuddled up next to Joy, against the arm of the couch.

  “This place is way nicer than where we’re crashing,” Zeke commented, looking around.

  “That’s because we were in the infirmary,” Joy said with a laugh, smacking his shoulder. “And anyway, we’re going home, remember?”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, smiling at her even as my throat tightened a little.

  “Flying back in a couple days,” she said, elbowing Zeke. “Can’t go until this guy gets his parade.”

  “Man it ain’t a parade,” Zeke shot back. “All they said was ‘ceremony’. Probably just some guy’s gonna shake my hand.”

  “I mean, you should get the bounty,” I said. “Jack’s probably got the biggest one on the planet, you’ll be set for life.”

  “Shit, for real?” he cackled and slapped his thigh. “You hear that? Drinks are on me for life.”

  “Settle for a new leg,” Reese said gruffly, rubbing his wound.

  “Sorry,” I said, my smile vanishing. “Really I...I’m sorry about that.”

  “S’fine,” he said with a shrug. “Should make for a hell of a story.”

  “Don’t worry man, I’ll get you fixed up,” Zeke said happily. “Long as they pay me.”

  “J, you alright?” I asked. J-Dog stirred as if waking up, looking at me with a distant gaze.

  “Just tired,” he said flatly.

  “If they don’t put you up, you can crash here,” I said. I could worry about squaring that with the Protectorate later. “Goes for all of you. My home’s yours, until they kick me out anyway.”

  “Hey, you got something cooking?” Joy asked, sniffing the air.

  I swore and scrambled back to the kitchen as my team laughed at my forgetfulness, heart happy as could be.

  “Bet ten,” Reese said, tossing a two-dollar coin onto a small pile at the center of the table.

  “Man you kidding?” Zeke groaned.

  “Gotta make sure you pay for my leg somehow,” he said with a rumbling laugh.

  “Fold,” Joy sighed, tossing down her cards.

  “Same,” J-Dog muttered, leaning back on the couch.

  I studied my cards quietly, glancing between them and Reese. It was my eighth hand of poker in my life, and my seventh tonight. I wasn’t sure whether the hand I had, full of red, was any good. But it really didn’t matter, we weren’t playing for real, and I was down to my last ‘chips’ anyway.

  “All in,” I said, pushing the four coins I had left into the pile. Zeke groaned and tossed down his cards while Reese quirked a brow.

  “You got balls,” Reese said, smiling. “Call.” He tossed four coins onto the pile, bringing him down to just two, then laid his cards on the table. “Full house, show ‘em.”

  “This is...a suite?” I said, setting my cards down. Reese’s face fell as Zeke guffawed. “What?”

  “Royal flush,” Joy said, shaking her head.

  “Lucky fucking Lia,” Reese sighed. “Man you could’ve loaned me some.”

  “Believe me, I did my best,” I replied. “Took enough tries to get us all to survive at all.” J-Dog raised his head, and both he and Reese stared at me.

  “What’s that mean?” J-Dog asked.

  “Ah.” Shit, I hadn’t told them yet. “Well...okay, Joy and Zeke will confirm all this but…”

  I launched into telling them a condensed version of the past two years, starting with Leviathan, my memories, and my many, many deaths. At first, it was clear they didn’t believe me, but the longer I talked and the more Joy and Zeke confirmed as true, the more shocked they looked. That was fair enough, it was unbelievable after all.

  “Damn,” Reese said once I’d finished. “That’s….”

  “Crazy shit,” J-Dog said. “Would say you’re full of it but...here we are.”

  “Here we are,” I echoed. “Sorry I didn’t tell you all sooner, but I was afraid. Just, keep this quiet, okay?”

  “No sweat,” Reese said with a nod. “Ain’t gonna tell nobody.”

  “Great,” I sighed. “Well let’s get back to—” A knock at the door interrupted me and I frowned. “Okay, let’s answer the door I guess.” There were a couple dry chuckles as I rose, but they were tinged with nervousness; all of us were on the wrong side of the law in some way or another, after all.

  “Hello Amaranth,” Chevalier greeted me with a cool politeness. It was a little weird, being addressed by my codename with a bare face, but they wanted to keep up their fa?ade of protecting my identity. “Is your team still with you?”

  “Just playing cards,” I said slowly, eyeing him. “What’s up?”

  “It’s nothing bad,” he reassured me. “In fact, I came here to invite you all to the ceremony celebrating our victory. It will be happening this evening.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. When was the last time a hero had given me good news? “Sure. Um, you want to come in and talk to them?”

  “If that’s alright,” Chevalier said, stepping in when I made room for him. He came into the living room, apparently ignoring or unbothered by the suspicious looks from my team. “Terriers. I can’t say it’s good to meet you, considering what I know about your past, but I am glad to be here today; and that is, in part, thanks to your efforts. That deserves recognition.

  “There will be a ceremony at the city hall tonight,” he continued. “Awards and recognition, followed by a press event and dinner. Zeke would be the guest of honour, but all of you are welcome for the parts you played. Of course we guarantee safe passage and protection from any detainment for your past actions, so long as you behave.”

  All of us shared a collective, quiet look as we considered it. There was an air of excitement, but also intense caution and no small bit of paranoia. After all, we’d all been threatened by the Protectorate at one point or another; and I was willing to bet most of us had arrest warrants or even bounties. Still, after a minute of consideration, Zeke grinned.

  “Well shit,” Zeke said. “Guess you can’t go without the guest of honour. Man that’s cool as hell, do I get a badge or something?”

  “I’m certain they will recognize you somehow,” Chevalier replied, sounding amused. “The invitation extends to you too Amaranth, despite your tentative status.”

  “Huh.” I hadn’t expected that but...it wasn’t like it was a bad surprise. “Okay, sure. I’m getting tired of oatmeal anyway.” I winced as my arm throbbed, and I patted the bandage. “Can I get some stitches and painkillers before we go?”

  “I believe you’re on Pandora’s triage list alr—”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I cut Chevalier off. “It’s really not that big of a deal, and she’s got plenty of people to help who actually need it.” I wasn’t sure I could face her anyway. “Just get a nurse to stitch me up, or give Nadir the stuff to do it. Actually, the latter would probably be better, so just something for the pain.”

  “And some antibiotics,” Joy added. “How often have you been changing the bandages?”

  “Not enough,” I admitted with a grimace. “Yeah, okay, that too.”

  “If you’re certain,” Chevalier said hesitantly. “I won’t ask as to why, I imagine you have your reasons. I’ll only add she has made no distinction in prioritizing heroes over villains, despite one or two complaints.”

  “No kidding,” I mumbled. That was...interesting. “Still, better not to bother her with minor crap.” He simply nodded.

  “And how are you?” he asked, glancing at Reese. “We can fit you with a temporary prosthetic for the ceremony if you’d like. I can’t say how easy it will be to use, but we’ll do our best.”

  “Alright,” Reese said with a shrug. “Hope the food’ll be worth it.”

  “Trust me, it is,” Chevalier said, with a smile in his voice. “We’ll call on you when it’s time. I’ll have the items you asked for delivered shortly. If you need anything else in the meantime, ask the guards outside.”

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling honestly. “I think I can speak for my team when I say we’re looking forward to this.”

  “We’ll see you there then.” He left us alone in the suite to chew on all that.

  We reset the card game and whiled away the afternoon wondering what was in store for us.

  “Daaamn, this place is fancy as hell!” Zeke said as we walked towards New York City Hall. “I feel underdressed.”

  “Don’t worry, all of us are,” I said with a shrug. “Guess they weren’t worried about it being black-tie.”

  “Still could have given us something,” Reese complained as he limped along on one crutch, not adjusted to the prosthetic they’d given him for tonight. “Sweats ain’t it.”

  “At least you don’t have to wear these stupid masks,” Joy groused. “Seriously, I have one, I didn’t need this.”

  “Probably worried about the look of a balaclava in a place like this,” I said, jerking my chin at the spires of the hall. “I’m not even sure why they’re bothering with me, it’s not like my trial was censored.”

  “When did you see it?” she asked, giving me a look.

  “There was a rerun on TV I watched in the ‘cage,” I said. “Plus I mean, I was there. No mask, nothing.”

  “Fucked up,” J-Dog muttered. “Just outing you like that.”

  “Not the first time,” I replied. “Weaver used to be known as Skitter, and that’s a name you’ll remember.”

  “The warlord,” he said almost thoughtfully. “Right, she was Tay-something, wasn’t she?”

  “They outed her to try and take her down,” I said. “And before that, the Empire Eighty-Eight had their members outed too. It’s an ugly business.”

  “Maybe it’ll be cool after tonight,” Zeke said hopefully. “After all, I’m the guest of honour.”

  “Man if you say that one more time I’m beating your ass,” Reese said, brandishing his crutch and wobbling.

  “C’mon, the guest of honour can’t go in all red and—” Zeke yelped at Reese smacked his knee with the crutch, getting us all laughing.

  “Terriers?” someone called from up ahead. I raised my gaze and saw Miss Militia dressed in a more formal version of her usual camo outfit. Her hair was done up in a crown braid around her head, and I couldn’t see her weapon anywhere. “Come on, you’re due backstage.”

  We caught up as quick as we could, helping Reese with the stairs when he finally asked. As we headed inside, I wondered how we could fix him. Maybe Tinker-tech, if Zeke really wound up with a payday, but that would need constant, costly maintenance. Could Scapegoat replace whole limbs? I’d have to ask around about that. Obviously Pandora would be no help, even if she was willing she couldn’t make a new limb out of whole cloth.

  Problems I’d have to worry about another time, as we headed into the back ways of city hall. As Miss Militia led us along, a few more heroes joined us. Chevalier, Clockblocker, and Crucible all came along, though none said a word to us as we headed backstage. The room we were taken to was bisected by a curtain, with a stage obviously on the other side. I could hear quiet muttering as we joined a small group of heroes and people in suits and ties. One man, wearing a broad sash and a medal, smiled at Miss Militia as we approached.

  “Your Worship,” Miss Militia said with a nod, gesturing to us. “May I introduce you to Amaranth, Nadir, and the Terriers.”

  “A pleasure to meet the heroes of the hour,” the man said with a warm grin. “I’m Mayor Cullen, and I hear you saved my city.”

  “That would be Zeke,” I said, stepping aside and gesturing to the ‘guest of honour’. He shrank back slightly and offered a small grin. “At least, he’s the one who took down Jack. I don’t think anyone can take all the glory for wiping out the Slaughterhouse Nine-thousand.”

  “The Slaughterhouse Nine-thousand,” Cullen mused, stroking his chin. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase. Do you mind if I steal that?”

  “You’re a politician, I’d expect no less,” I said with a sardonic grin. Cullen had the good grace to laugh at that.

  “Excellent,” he said. “And Zeke, young man, let’s chat for a moment. I’d like you to know what’s coming for you tonight.”

  “Shi— Uh, shoot,” Zeke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That supposed to sound so ominous?” The mayor laughed and patted Zeke's shoulder before leading him away to do recon for the rest of us.

  “Please feel free to mingle while we wait,” Miss Militia said to the rest of us. “Just be ready when we need you.”

  “Always will be,” I said, offering a grin before grabbing Joy’s hand. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve got to drink.”

  “Man that was a rush!” Zeke said as we headed offstage after the press event was over. “Was like everyone knew my name, like I was famous!”

  “You are famous,” Joy said. “I mean, now you are at least. Must have been a hundred reporters in there.”

  “How many medals you get?” Reese asked. “Must be more gold in them than Fort Knox.”

  “Man I’ll share, don’t sweat,” Zeke replied. “You got your own anyway, so what’re you complaining about?”

  “I don’t care about no medals, I just wanna eat,” J-Dog said flatly.

  “Amen,” I said with a nod. “At least it won’t be long no—”

  “Amaranth, do you have a moment?” Miss Militia called, making me pause. Joy gave me a worried look, but I squeezed her hand and offered a smile.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said quietly, though I was pretty sure I was going back to prison. “Catch up with you in a minute.”

  “You’d better,” Joy said quietly, glancing at Miss Militia and squeezing my hand back. “I don’t want to come looking for you.”

  “You won’t have to,” I promised, probably as good as a lie.

  I let her go and walked over to Miss Militia. She led me away from the stage area to a small hallway behind it, lined with numbered doors. She stopped outside number seven and knocked twice, paused, then knocked again. The lock clattered and the door swung open, letting us join the heroes and suits in the room. Chevalier was there, along with Director Higgins. Another person, maybe the PRT director for New York, was speaking quietly with two men in black suits. When we entered, their conversation paused for a moment before resuming at a rapid clip.

  “Quite the reception committee,” I said dryly, clasping my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking. “Since we didn’t talk about this in public, I think I’ve got an idea why I’m here.”

  “Indeed?” Chevalier said, cocking his head. “I suppose for a precog of your ability, that isn’t surprising. Well, we shouldn’t waste any time then. Secretary?” One of the suited men perked up. He shared a final word with the others, then all three of them joined us.

  “This is her?” the man asked. I looked him over. Not much to see, he was middling height, balding, with a pair of thick glasses that made him look older than he probably was. “Shorter than I expected.”

  “I get that a lot,” I said with an edge of sarcasm. “So...whose secretary are you?” He stared blankly for a second, then snorted as he tried to suppress a laugh.

  “Excuse me,” he said, recovering quickly. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Michael Wolfe, Secretary of Parahuman Security for the current administration. Apologies for the comment, I’d heard about your actions in Brockton Bay but never saw the trial; I think you can understand my surprise.”

  “Like I said, I get that a lot...sir,” I replied. “So I guess you’re here to tell me whether it’s the Birdcage, or some other hell hole?”

  “Well, I won’t deny it, there’s been some argument around that.” Wolfe scratched his cheek idly. “But all of that went above my head, in the end. No, I’m here because the president didn’t want to attract a spectacle by coming himself for this.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “It almost sounds like you’re about to pardon me,” I said dryly.

  “Ah, so you are a precog,” he said with a nod. I blinked as what he meant sunk in.

  “No shit,” I said shakily. My eyes flicked from Wolfe, to Chevalier, to Miss Militia, and back. “And are you selling me a bridge too?”

  “I understand your suspicion,” Wolfe said, reaching into his jacket and taking out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it out to me, and I eyed it warily. “Go on, read it.”

  I snatched it away and unfolded it, scanning the text rapidly. I read it once, twice, then over and over because I was certain it couldn’t be real. But the plain text spelled it out clear as day. Amelia Carina D’souza, AKA Amaranth, AKA Terrier, was being given a presidential pardon. Clemency for everything I’d done, freedom.

  “Are you alright?” Miss Militia asked as I wiped my eyes.

  “I was...I was sure I’d be going back,” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice level. But if I wasn’t going back, that meant… “What about Paroxysm?” Wolfe knit his brows, as did Miss Militia.

  “Is that another member of your team?” Wolfe asked.

  “No she’s…” I swallowed, cheeks colouring. “She’s my girlfriend.” That got another laugh from the secretary, making my cheeks burn with anger more than embarrassment.

  “It’s unprecedented that you’re being granted this, Amaranth,” Chevalier said, his tone warning. “Don’t push it.”

  “She’s not that bad though,” I pleaded. “Really she—”

  “Amaranth,” Miss Militia said sharply, making me snap my mouth shut.

  “Sorry, just…” I sighed and scratched my neck. “Could I at least send her a letter, tell her what happened? I just...left.”

  “We can speak to Dragon,” she offered.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding and taking a deep breath to settle myself. “Well, thanks Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Thank me by staying out of trouble and making people wonder how you got out,” Wolfe replied with a grin. “This isn’t exactly press-friendly, understand?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, smiling back. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  Miss Militia led me from the room and down the hall again. I clutched the little piece of paper, my salvation, in both hands. It felt so fragile, like it could be swept away by a slight breeze. Would it even work, or would there still be heroes, vigilantes, who tried to take me down? I wasn’t sure, but for the first time in a long time, I felt hope for my future.

  “There it is,” Miss Militia said as we walked along. “What are you going to do with your freedom?”

  “Hell if I know,” I scoffed. “Only been free for five minutes.” She looked down at me and I could see the smile in her eyes.

  “Well, consider the Protectorate,” she said, making me suppress a sigh. “I know, it’s not what you’re looking for, but we can offer you stability. I would think that’s something you’d value.”

  “I think I’m done with hero work for a while,” I said. “But if I start again...I’ll consider it, okay?”

  “I’d appreciate that very much,” Miss Militia said. “Well, if you don’t have any other plans...maybe we could take a trip to the range and talk. It’s been a while.”

  “I like that idea,” I said with a nod.

  We joined the others for a fancy dinner that dragged long into the night. Zeke was pulled every which way by reporters, politicians, and anyone else who wanted a minute with the hero of the hour. When we finally escaped into Dragon’s craft for the ride back to Brockton Bay, he’d been run ragged by the event. Of course, we didn’t let him escape some ribbing on the flight home, but he took it in good humour, brandishing his medals every chance he got.

  My heart soared as high as Dragon’s ship. My friends were alright, we’d survived what I never thought we could, and now I was free. It had been hard, it had been painful, it had often felt impossible. I’d given up so much, burned every bridge I’d crossed in the past.

  But for the first time, I felt it was finally worth it.