“So if we factor in the 12th Avenue attack, as well as the Kaiju Civil Rights act of the Fifties, I think we kinda get the picture that these guys are pretty pissed off that the government think of them more as creatures than actual people, and the reason there’s so many of them in New Olympus is because of how lax the law is on what really constitutes the word ‘Divergent Persons’ and what it means here,” I said, legs folded, hovering above my bed, neck craned as I scribbled on a pad. “But on the other hand, you get people like Liam Sanders, who’s kinda like their leader, but also not, who just wants these guys to have a foothold in society and be accepted for who they are.”

  I tore out the sticky note (the final one on its pad) and stuck it to the wall, using a piece of string and a sticky tack to attach it to the larger Kaiju thread. I hovered backward and licked my lips, because my walls and my ceiling and even part of the floor was covered in all kinds of stuff. My brain hurts from being used so much, and if that makes it sound like I’m stupid, it’s not meant to. I just never knew this city could be so…big. So dense and deep that sometimes it felt like I was drowning trying to understand why there was a street in the Upper West that simply just vanished into thin air and nobody ever talked about it. And the underground railway? Oh, man, don’t even get me started on Station Sixteen, because the shit that goes down in there had me gaping at Ava like I was a goldfish expecting its dinner. You know what’s even weirder? I thought, for a moment, that I’d hate doing this.

  But as I finally sat down on my bed and took off my glasses, I felt kinda relieved. Like I could breathe a little better knowing that some of this city was mapped out in notes all around my bedroom. I flexed my fingers and nodded, feeling like I’d accomplished something for once, and that had my heart going and blood pumping so hard I felt like I could go clean up the entire city right now in just an hour, but I had to pace myself. Lots still to do.

  I grabbed another sticky note pad and clicked my pen. “Now we need to talk about the White Capes.”

  “Rylee?” Ava said. I turned to look at her. “I’m not usually one to admit defeat—”

  “Yeah, I know, you usually wallow in it but never say anything about it.”

  “But,” she said with emphasis, “I’m getting kinda tired right now.”

  I blinked. “What do you mean tired? You’re just a head.”

  “And your body is capable of withstanding days and days without food or water, running on purely your powers and nothing else,” she said. “The rest of us aren’t like that. We started in the morning and it’s been dark since four, so I don’t even know what time it is, but could we at least carry on tomorrow? My head is spinning.”

  “But…” I sighed and said, “Come on, Av’, this is the only chance I get to put my feet up, so I might as well start understanding what I’m dealing with, you know? And you’re the only person who can help me. You owe me.”

  “For what, exactly?” she asked. “Because with or without your help, the Triad would’ve collapsed.”

  I pointed my pen at her. “So you’re admitting that you suck as a leader?”

  “I’m admitting that you were a semi-worthless investment in the grand scheme of things.”

  “There’s that Ava attitude that I need,” I said. “Gather up that negativity and use it to energize yourself.”

  “Rylee,” she said flatly, a hint of a snap in her voice. I stayed by the wall, my back to her as I pursed my lips, pen and pad still in hand. I didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t even realize the lights aren’t on until the ones outside flickered into life. What time is it? My phone must be somewhere in my tousled bed sheets. “I’d like to help you, and frankly, I don’t think either of us will ever fully repay the other.” I was about to argue against that point until she continued, speaking over me. “But you’ve got to understand that, at the end of the day, the rest of us are only human. We can’t keep working endlessly like you, and ever since I lost my body…I don’t know. It feels more exhausting keeping up the facade of wanting to be here harder to manage every single day. “I need a break. One day I’d like to believe I can call it quits and walk away from this with something, I’ll even take a legacy, but when you rely on everyone for everything…” She fell silent, and only spoke a few seconds later. “He left me here for days.”

  I slowly turned. “What?”

  “My uncle isn’t a good man, you should know that, and I know that you know that,” she said quietly. “And I felt so powerless. So, God, I hate admitting this, but alone. I felt alone. And partially scared, because you went off on a quest by yourself and he left me in this frigid bedroom not knowing anything that was going on. You know how fucking terrible it feels for people to treat you like an object? To have a blanket draped over you to shut you up, just so he can hear me begging to see the gray sky through the blinds? So yes, Rylee, I’d like a break. I’m a little tired and I hope you understand. In more ways than one, I’m not like you. There’s no driving force, so please.”

  I stared at her, heart thumping slowly against my chest, a ball in my gut. I didn’t really know what to say or do, and for the longest time, feeling bad for Ava was something I’d simply just never thought about. I guess it’s still hard to do that, I thought, sighing quietly and massaging my eyes. On the other hand, that bastard had probably done what I would’ve also done in a heartbeat. Ava wasn’t a good person, it was simple, and making excuses for her also wasn’t a smart move. But I’d gone around making excuses for my shitty decisions all year long, and she was right. The difference between me and her was that I could punch my way into winning an argument, even if that argument was with myself. Her, though? She’d lost, and that had taken her body away, the one thing she had to keep flipping off her bad ideas, even if it got her in situations that should leave her dead. So I guess she had a point.

  I went over to my bed and found my phone. Fifteen minutes to eight. A couple of messages from Becky telling me what she’s doing and where she’s doing, the updates she’s made and the case files she’s managed to put together in case I ever wanted a breakdown. Her final message was a few minutes ago, a picture of the pasta she’d made for dinner, telling me it was in the microwave for when I eventually got home. My lips drew into a thin line as I switched off my phone and sat on my bed, bouncing a little. I put my glasses, the pad and then the pen on my desk, rolled my neck and stretched my shoulders. I sighed and looked around my room, nearly every square inch covered in yellow, green, or pink paper. I think that’s the most writing I’ve ever gotten done in a single day since I graduated. My wrist kind of hurt and so did my neck, but it was worth it. So worth it. For once, Ava had been helpful and didn’t manage to screw me over somehow. I’d still need to put all of this down in some kind of book.

  But for now, I turned to her and said, “Want a beer?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “A beer? I’ve not got a stomach to digest it.”

  I shrugged and went to my closet, burrowing into the back and finding the half-empty case I’d kept here ever since those kids got gunned down by that bastard O’Reiley, which reminded my like a splash to the face, that the fucker got off scot-free and ran to who knows where. I made a tiny note of it and stuck it to my desk drawer underneath Ava, then cracked one open and took a sip. “Can’t get drunk. My body won’t allow for it to happen. But they’ve got tons of calories in it, well, enough to keep my body going for a while, so they’re like energy drinks.”

  “I don’t think that’s how biology works.”

  I shrugged again and rested on my bed, looking outside the window and the building opposite the shop. The brick wall beyond was covered in a tiny sheet of ice, and to make this night even colder, a slight drizzle hung in the air, making whatever wind slipped inside my room even more bitter. I got up and grabbed a couple extra blankets from my wardrobe and made a kind of cubby for Ava to nestle herself into, which was weird, I know, and don’t look at me that way, but her teeth were starting to chatter and this place was built back in the era of when men were men and seemingly insulation was an option. I didn’t bother with a blanket for myself. A hand behind my head and the beer hanging from my fingertips, we sat in silence, not moving, not talking, kind of just being there. Together. It was almost uncomfortable at first as I tried to think of what to say to her, maybe even just an insult so I could get an argument going for old time’s sake, but… I figured I should keep quiet for once and let the silence be.

  “What made you want to be a superhero, really?” she asked me.

  I looked over at her and the ear muffs I put over the sides of her head. “Dunno,” I muttered. “Dad, I guess.”

  “Can I be honest with you?” she asked me. I waved for her to continue. “I never saw the appeal.”

  “Of being a superhero?” I asked. “I mean, I doubt your old man would want one in his midsts.”

  “Not that,” she said. “Okay, well, partially that, but of Zeus, too. He always felt false. My mother used to take us to church every Sunday, eventually it was just me and her, and I could never understand why people were so comfortable having him around. I grew up learning Jesus was all-powerful, all-loving, a superhero, the very first one, and then someone would say Zeus is, too, and everyone would agree, but I’d seen the things he’d done. The people he’d kill with a snap of his fingers, compressing the air in a room to a point people’s heads exploded.” I sat up and held the beer in both my hands. “Zeus was never a hero to me, just a way for the world to have a crutch and hope in their hearts that they’ve got someone who was perfect, but that wasn’t him, was it? He was never true.”

  “True, he was not,” I muttered, taking a sip, then falling into silence. “Up until the very end.”

  “And I think that’s why I liked you more,” she said. “You were more comfortable being you.”

  I laughed a little, dry and short. “Tell that to the thousands of people who hated me.”

  “And the thousands more who like having you around because they saw through your father’s charade,” she said. I looked at her funny, raising an eyebrow. “Think about it for a moment: it’s a social no-no to say you hate Zeus, but if you say that about Olympia, then sure, people are more willing to stomach that, but it’s only because he’s still everywhere, isn’t he? The Olympiad has a smaller statue of him. His memorial will be soon. He died ten years ago but it’s like he’s still alive, and that’s why those people don’t like you: you’re not him, and they want to hide from the truth that their precious little city isn’t as perfect as he made it seem, because you show them the ugly bits. Humanity as a whole isn’t comfortable with being uncomfortable.” She smiled. “I think I like you a lot better.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I stopped the beer from touching my lips. “Where’s this all coming from? You’re weirding me out.”

  “I can see it in your eyes, Rylee,” Ava said. “You’re questioning if you still want to do this, aren’t you?”

  I stayed quiet, drinking the beer and its leftovers until it was finished. I didn’t grab another. I stayed on my bed staring at the ceiling, an arm behind my head and swishing the empty can. I can’t turn it off. The sounds. The voices. The cries for help and the gunshots, the almost infinitesimal earthquakes, the stink of Superhumans and the never ending abrasion against my skin. I shut my eyes and breathed, just breathed. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. My phone had quietly been playing music for a while now, and all that happened for the next few minutes was that and that alone: music. But I couldn’t stop myself from tapping my finger against the can or grinding my teeth out of annoyance, because it just doesn’t stop, and I don’t think it’ll ever stop. Today was me trying to distract myself.

  It was me actively trying to convince myself that I was doing something meaningful when I should instead be trying to look for mom and Bianca, because that was a pressure on my chest that just would not go away. I’d puked last night, you know that? Puked and puked until my throat was raw and I was a heaving mess in the bathroom. Becky had woken up. I’d heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door, heard her heartbeat and when she opened her mouth to ask, Hey, Ry, everything okay in there? But she hadn’t spoken or hadn’t come inside. She’d gone back to pretending to be asleep, and I’d flushed the toilet, washed my mouth, and tried to do the same.

  And then I’d cried, and I think that was when I figured I should go on a run, because that would give me something to do. There was something sickening about the whole thing, lying there in bed and having all of those emotions leap at you at once, trying to rip you apart, digging their claws into your scars and aches and taking advantage of the dozens of times your body already almost quit on you, just so they could have it easier trying to get to the softer bits inside of you. The bits that bleed and tear and rupture when they’re poked and prodded. And then I’d wanted mom. I’d wanted her to come into my room and lie there on my bed, stroking my hair and shushing me asleep, just like she’d done when dad died, just like she’d done when she knew something was wrong when I first started out being a superhero but didn’t know that, but she just wasn’t there. It had been me and the posters.

  All those superheroes, all those dashing grins and heroic poses, quiet as I cried into eventual silence. I didn’t sleep last night in all honesty. It was a front so Becky wouldn’t be in my business, because how can I sleep?

  Fuck me, I don’t deserve to sleep, do I?

  “Rylee?” Ava asked quietly. I stirred and looked at her, then swore and used my t-shirt to rub my eyes. I’d crushed the beer can and let tears leak, which was super awkward, you know? A hero crying in front of a villain?

  That was, like, the biggest sin a superhero could ever commit. That was damn nearly suicide.

  “What time is it?” I asked, grabbing my phone. Fuck me, it’s ten o’clock. What happened to nine?

  “You fell asleep,” she whispered. “And you kept moving around, talking like—”

  I swore and looked at the wall closest to my bed, because there was a fist-sized hole going right through it. I looked at my hand and then at the pipes I’d bent, then cursed again and stood, finding myself on the floor and surrounded by a mess of bedsheets and wooden shrapnel. What happened?. “Need to get outta here, see you—”

  “Stop being Olympia for once, for fuck sake, and look yourself in the mirror,” she said. I stopped trying to look for my sneakers, there on my hands and knees on the carpet, the lights still off in my bedroom. “Jesus Christ, Rylee, you put a hole through your wall when you were asleep. What happens when there’s someone else with you? What happens when Bianca is in the same room as you and you start having one of those thrashing nightmares?”

  “Think I lost one of my shoes,” I muttered, getting to one knee. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll just fly home.”

  “Would you listen to me?” she snapped. I paused, looking at her, my mouth dry and head still pounding. Her brows were low, coming together almost in annoyance or concern, but why would she ever be concerned for the likes of me? We were natural enemies, right? I stood up and shouldered my bag. “You’re not doing okay, Rylee. You need help.” I started getting my clothes together, finding my coat and beanie, my socks and extra hoodie. “And if you think for one second I’ll let you out of this room without promising me you’ll get it, then you’re not leaving.”

  I scoffed. “And how the hell are you going to stop me? All out of party tricks, Av’.”

  “You’re not gonna leave because you know I’m telling the truth.”

  “You, telling the truth? Ha. Fucking hilarious.”

  “So you’re fine with going through the pain of getting Bianca back, only to kill her accidentally?”

  “I’d never do that,” I whispered, stopping at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ava. We’ve got work to do.”

  “You put your fist through a solid oak wall in your sleep. What happens when you wake up and she’s—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I hissed, grabbing her hair. Her eyes narrowed as I breathed hard, but all I could see in her glasses’ reflection was my golden eyes, flaring every second that my heart hammered away inside of my chest. My mouth tasted bitter. My stomach was cast in cold steel. “Don’t piss me off, Ava, I swear.”

  “You need me,” she said, “just as much as you need to let go of being Olympia for a while.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?!” I snapped. “I’m fine. This is what I want, and I don’t see anyone else putting on a costume and trying to figure out how to save the city, so everyone should just learn to shut up.”

  “You haven’t even seen the rest of your room, have you?” she asked me quietly.

  “What’re you even—”

  “Stop talking and look.”

  So I looked.

  And felt like my chest had just imploded.

  The ceiling was destroyed, smashed beams and ripped out wires and piping. The floor was a mess of broken wood, and my bed wasn’t even really a bed, but instead a torn mattress and ripped blanket. The only thing in this room that wasn’t trashed was my desk where Ava had been sitting, which sat there untouched and perfect, surrounded by carnage and chaos, enough of it for me to feel my heart constricting and my throat getting drier. Dennie is gonna kill me. He’s gonna want me out of here. I take a step and my foot goes through the floorboard. I swear and try to pull myself out, but the next thing I know, a surge of electricity ripples over my skin, sending a golden shockwave through the floor, the room, banishing the shadows and sending them into crevices and cracks.

  Time freezes. Tongues of violent light explode from my skin, streaking away. It feels like my gut suddenly swelled. Like my head blanked and my body wasn’t mine the same second something broke, ruptured, inside of me.

  Trying to pick myself off the floor only left my hands smashing through the wood. Every step I took and every desperate grab toward the stiff support beams left them bent, groaning, quaking under their load and falling.

  Then, a second later, my room was filled with golden light, and then silence.

  It’s over in the blink of an eye, and all that’s left of my room is a charred hell of burnt wood. A carcass of a bedroom filled with singed insides and smoldering chunks of memories and my belongings. My mouth now tastes like hot metal. My head rings even louder as I try to find the words, to scream, to swear, but I can’t say anything, not with a wad of emotion stuck in the base of my throat, choking me into silence. The sticky notes are gone, turned to fluttering bits of black paper. My posters. My comics. The box of all my stuff in my wardrobe, a shell of a wooden space slumped in the corner, almost turned to fiery sludge. I looked at my hands, at how much they shook, at Ava’s head slowly healing itself on the floor beside me, the burnt black skin, hot and red in some parts, spitting puss and fat in this superheated space, slowly patching itself together. I backpedalled out of the depression I’m in, hovering.

  Then I heard the worst sound I think I’ve ever heard: the shrieking groan of the floor beginning to slump.

  I was out of my bedroom in a split second and downstairs in the packed full coffee house a moment later. Everything was frozen in time, a speck of a moment in the blitz of golden light warping the air around my body. Full house. Families with kids. Singles trying to grab a bite to eat. Strays looking for somewhere warm. Fuck. Coffee hung in mid-air, barely hitting the bottom of mugs. I glanced upward. The ceiling was lower. Some people must’ve heard the small boom, the clap of violent electricity, and dozens of them were looking upward, necks straining.

  I didn’t think, and didn’t let myself until every single one of those people was on the street outside. So fast and so suddenly that the snow melted under my feet, turning to sludge and gooey waste the faster and faster I got.

  Then I was high, high in the sky when it all came crashing down a moment later, eating itself into a pile of support beams and wood, metal and glass and a carcass of a building shrouded in the skin of naked walls and empty rooms. Nobody had been upstairs, I’d checked that. Ava was in her uncle’s hands, who I’d made sure was cradling her and not the coffee tray he’d been holding. The world caught up. Sound rushed toward me next, ripping right through the sky. The people I’d put on the street screamed and flinched, but those were all delayed reactions.

  Dennie’s coffee house had already finished collapsing, and all I could do was watch.

  Stare at it from above, my hair shoved around by the bitter wind and the snow.

  My heart was a racing mess in my chest, my brain a soup of liquefied thoughts.

  Rylee, you fucked up. Rylee, you fucked up.

  A support beam collapsed, showering the closest of them in dust and bits of wood. My heart climbed my throat. I felt like puking, like falling out of the sky. I shook like I was cold. Breathed out my mouth like I was tired. Cold air hissed against my skin, crackling and popping as snow met my palms as I stared at them. What the fuck? What did you do? What the hell did you do? Confusion below me. Confusion shrieking inside my head. People on the sidewalk filmed the building on their phones, more concerned about another collapse and not the people around them. Instinct told me to go down there. To fix something. Superheroes were meant to give speeches. To make people feel something. That’s what Actress had said, right? Make them believe that this was all so glorious.

  That being a superhero was just the easiest freaking job in the world.

  I lowered through the sky, but then someone saw me, a gruff-looking guy with a high-vis jacket and a thick beard who glanced into the open air above. He pointed, and the others did as well, all of them slowly standing up.

  And then they started cheering. And then they started yelling thank you, tearful, joyous thank yous.

  And then I turned through the night, and left.