“Yeah,” Lookout said. She huffed for breath. She wasn’t out of shape, but she wasn’t a runner either, and we were far enough out at the edges of the parking lot that the lot hadn’t been fully cleared of snow or debris. Just a little more effort for those putting boot to muck, especially when she had shorter legs.

Sveta, at least, seemed to be doing okay. She was still holding the two folded bits of metal.

I checked to see if the coast was clear, and I saw Love Lost. She stood on the hood of a car, back straight, hair and coat moving in the wind. Not chasing, not using her power. Just staring.

No Nailbiter at her side. Her tinker was a little worse for wear, and her reinforcements hadn’t yet arrived.

“Here! These sedans,” Lookout said.

A person stepped out from between the cars, hand at his waist, reaching for a gun.

He saw the size of our group, and he raised both his hands instead of drawing his weapon.

“You’re with them?” I asked.

“Fuck you,” he said.

He’s with them.

Byron took the guy by the shoulder, leading him to the side, where he was made to kneel on the frozen ground, hands at his side. Byron divested the guy of his weapons. A knife and a gun.

“How did you know it was these?” I asked Lookout.

“Because I was keeping an eye out for trouble using the Center’s surveillance before it all went hinky. We saw the anti-parahuman dorks show up, except we didn’t know it was them then. These are their cars.”

“Tail ends are low to the ground,” Rain said. “Heavy weight in the rears. Did they bring the weapons with?”

“Fuck you,” the guy said.

“If you’re going to be mad, be mad at yourselves,” Swansong said. “Your laziness.”

“That’s a good eye, Precipice,” Byron said. “Can we check? Tear it open, Vic?”

“No, don’t break it. You could damage the contents,” Swansong said. “Sveta. Pick it.”

“I don’t know how to pick locks.”

“Do you know what raking is? You should be capable.”

Sveta frowned.

“Come. I’ll show you.”

In the distance, Love Lost only watched. I saw her clench her claw. Nailbiter had appeared, standing behind her, and I saw the electric flicker around the tinker, who was wholly human again. It was broken gear that was crackling.

They didn’t attack or approach.

“This is the cheap and dirty way of opening a lock,” Swansong said. “You want to jostle the pins. Go back and forth, as soon as you feel them, pop them up. Keep pressure so the lock is turning—”

“Already doing that,” Sveta said. Her hand was removed, and tendrils were groping at and around the lock. “I have to use my smallest tendrils, which are also the shortest, which is awkward—”

The trunk popped open. I saw the surprise on Sveta’s face.