I run to where Sarah is still crouched behind a parked car. The side that faced the Mogadorians is melted in spots but Sarah appears unharmed. As soon as I slide to the ground beside her, Bernie Kosar sprouts wings and takes off, hurling himself at a pair of Mogs. The remaining Mogadorians look almost confused. Their ship destroyed, half their number already killed—I doubt they were expecting a fight like this. Good, let them be the scared ones for once.

“You okay?” I ask Sarah.

“Yeah,” she replies breathlessly. She holds up her gun. “I’m out.”

I reach out with my telekinesis and reel in one of the discarded Mogadorian blasters. Sarah plucks it out of the air.

“Cover me,” I tell her. “We’re finishing this.”

I stride out from behind the car, practically daring the Mogadorians to come at me. A pair hunkered down in front of the gas station fire at me. My shield deploys immediately, absorbing their shots. I think about hurling a fireball at them, but I don’t want to blow up the gas station. We’ve already damaged poor Fouke, Arkansas, enough.

I use my telekinesis to grab their blasters, smashing them to the ground. Then, I raise my hand to the Mogs and motion for them to come on. They grin, their tiny teeth gleaming in the moonlight, and unsheathe their swords. They sprint towards me.

As soon as they’re a safe distance from the gas station, I launch a fireball that engulfs them both. Idiots.

Another group of Mogs has regrouped enough to make a focused assault. They charge me all at once, trying to surround me. Before they can close in, I feel something rubbery wrap itself tightly around my waist and I’m yanked backwards, away from the incoming Mogs. Startled, I look down. An arm is coiled around me. A really long, stretched-out arm.

As soon as I’m clear, Sarah starts lighting up the group of Mogs with blaster fire.

I look back down in time to see Five’s arm coil back to its normal shape and return to his T-shirt. He looks at me sheepishly.

“Sorry if I interrupted,” he says, “thought you might get pinned down.”

“What did you just do?” I ask, both curious and a little grossed out.

“My Cêpan called it Externa,” Five explains. He holds up the rubber ball that he’s been fondling since we showed up. “It’s one of my Legacies. I can take on the qualities of whatever I’m touching.”

“Nice,” I reply. Maybe the new guy isn’t so useless after all.