“Honestly? Probably not. But depending on how this works out, she might as well be. It’s just going to be someone crazier and more dangerous than the one who dresses up as a march hare and shoots with kids in the line of fire.”

“Costumed kids. Heartbroken, I think?”

“Yeah. Heartbroken and Chicken Little. But kids are supposed to be off-limits. You go easy.”

Littlejohn nodded.

There was a scene between this one and the first one we’d started to piece together. Shamrock opening fire. Gregor slinging a blob of slime. Snuff was practically throwing Tattletale into the vehicle while his power blocked out an area in front of him. Not as much of a dark blob as we’d originally thought—that had been the overlapping of multiple effects.

“Shamrock shot one of March’s people. March’s person immediately reacts, lashes out—Lookout?”

We caught the scene from earlier. Dismemberment. The kids now on their way to the vehicles. March had been disarmed by Shamrock’s shot, the rifle broken at the wooden base just a half-inch from March’s hand, but March had other people leaning out the windows and over the vehicle.

“Who’s the bridge troll?”

The question came from Littlejohn’s partner. He indicated Gregor the Snail, who was shielding some of the Heartbroken kids with his body as they got into one of the Undersider’s vehicles. He was wearing full costume, and his body visibly steamed, though the projection didn’t catch all of the steam, making it look cut off or jagged in places.

“That’s Gregor,” Sveta said. “From my very limited exposure to him and everything I’ve heard, he’s apparently a gentleman.”

“He’s wearing a fishnet shirt in minus-something weather. Doesn’t seem gentlemanly to be around kids like that.”

“They don’t seem to mind,” Sveta said.

“I’m a kid and I don’t mind. He looks huggable.”

“I like it,” Swansong said. “Dark, bold.”

Littlejohn’s partner scoffed a bit.

“And they’re kids who hang out with supervillains,” I pointed out. “Heartbroken and Tattletale’s protege. Playing in the snow while the adults talk is probably as kid-like as things get for them. I don’t think fishnets are even on their radar.”

“The one with the bird mask is the protege?” Littlejohn asked me. I nodded my confirmation.

“Maybe he likes it,” Sveta said.

“You can relax,” Littlejohn’s partner said. “You’re making more of a deal of it than I meant to say.”

“His wife probably likes it,” Sveta said, indicating Shamrock.

“No shit?” Littlejohn’s partner asked. “I kind of hate him now.”

“Funny thing is, I think you could say that to his face, and he would just accept it,” Sveta said. “I think we should stop here before I get pissed off.”

“Woah there,” Littlejohn’s partner replied.