I looked in the direction of the stairwell. “What she said about the power dynamic? I can believe most of it. Location and DNA? It fits with things we’ve seen before.”

“Things like Byron and Tristan,” Sveta said. “Proximity.”

“And twins and clones,” Tristan added. “Same barcode.”

Swansong nodded.

“You said most,” Rain said.

“Who?” Sveta asked.

“Victoria. She said she could believe most of it.”

“She said the process works best if the person being drained is weakened. Bled out, skinned…”

“You don’t think so?” Tristan asked.

“I think it makes sense if you don’t think about it. I also think that powers tend to target the disadvantaged. Victims. Trigger events target them. Second triggers do. When your power fluctuates because you’re in a mindset aligned to your trigger? It’s rewarding that mentality.”

“Tattletale misled?” Sveta asked.

“Or she was wrong,” Tristan said. “How sure are you, Vic?”

I had to think about it. “Fifty percent.”

“That’s not helpful,” Sveta chided me. “That’s the opposite of helpful.”

“If we ever find ourselves in a position to consider doing that, we should be aware of the risk. Weakening one person risks a second trigger, and it might work the opposite way.”

“Great,” Rain said.

“There’s an upside!” Sveta said, encouraging. “If they get you… you kind of have a chance, whatever they do?”

Rain snorted.

From the stairwell, Lookout emerged. She had Chicken Little with her, as well as Whippersnap and the lace girl. I could see the defensive body language in the two Case Fifty-Threes. Whippersnap folded his arms, while the lace girl stepped a bit behind him. Her hand found Whippersnap’s.

“…shot a target and all of the smashed-up bullets came out looking like birds,” Chicken Little said.

“That’s crazy. But you know, that’s a trick of the eye sometimes. Like when you look at a cloud and it looks like something? I remember when I was really young, in those good old days when you were automatically friends with whoever was the same age?”

“Yeah,” Chicken Little said. “I remember those days.”

“Yeah! So we were pulling bits of concrete away from this ruined wall with cracks running through it, and every single piece had a pattern in the broken side that looked like a face. That’s the effect I’m talking about. I experimented with it, when I was working on my cameras.”

“I think I have one of the bullets in my pocket. It’s sharp so it’s sometimes useful. Here.”

Chicken Little reached into the front pocket of the coat that had been built into his costume—it had tails at the back like an old fashioned coat, but the tails had a feather-like cut to them, like a bird’s folded wings. His mask was full-face, with beady black eyes set fairly low, in a way that made the forehead and the crest at the top stand out more.