“If we’d suspected, we would have done things differently when she found us again. The last we’d heard she was in the hands of the authorities, then the world ended, and with no warning she appeared in front of us.”

“Spinning more stories for people who were overwhelmed trying to assign people houses and work.”

“And the video manipulation. That was our first hint that something was wrong.”

I leaned over to Lookout and whispered, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what they did?”

“I’d really rather not,” she whispered back. “Not on television, in front of everyone.”

“—false videos?” John was asking, in the clip.

“Putting us in scenes where we weren’t, making it look like we committed crimes,” Julien responded. “A preteen girl, she found us and she trapped us.”

“She trapped them,” John said. His actual voice, and not the clip. On the monitors, he stared into the cameras, his face severe. His expression changed, a slight smile. “And we’re back.”

Lights gave the go-ahead for the audience to applaud. Cameras moved, slowly turning to keep us centered in the shots. The clapping had more energy than it had had when we’d made our appearance. When Gary had made his.

“Now, that clip was recorded yesterday, and obviously we didn’t know about this big story you would be giving us all tonight. It’s impressive and monumental if true, we will get back to it. But first, can we talk about Lookout? What’s your reaction on seeing that?”

“Um. That’s tricky,” Lookout stumbled.

“Enraged,” Swansong said, her voice cold.

“That’s a strong word,” Hamza retorted.

“It’s a good word,” Lookout said. “Um, and thank you for caring, Swansong. I got tired of being enraged or feeling much of anything about what my parents do, a long time ago. I don’t really try to understand them.”

“A breakdown in communication?” Hamza asked. “A lack of appropriate emotion, be it shame or empathy, can suggest certain labels.”

“Those labels you’re implying don’t apply to kids,” I said. “Let’s get real here.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do tonight,” Lynn said, all enthusiasm and verve. “Getting real. We’re getting answers—about what happened on Gold Morning. And as part of that, I want to know what it’s really like, to live with a parahuman? Sometimes we hear from… what’s the term? Cape wives? And cape husbands, I suppose. Legend had one.”

“As the slang goes online, even the men are ‘cape wives’,” I said. “But I don’t think that’s important.”

“Amen to that,” Capricorn said.

“There’s no cape parent, is there?” Lynn asked, glossing past us. “They don’t have a voice.”