“Injectors. And this bag is full,” he said. He patted the backpack. “Give me a portal. Last stand.”

The portal opened. He could see the oil rig, and everyone assembled there.

So many strangers, and he didn’t necessarily like the people who weren’t strangers.

“Look after the people there,” the girl with the thing about dogs said.

“That’s the intention.”

That got him a nod.

He was greeted by a man in power armor he couldn’t place by name. Quizzed. Then he was handed an assortment of other things to hand out with the injectors.

String Theory, too, greeted him at the door.

“I’ve got you beat,” she said.

“A thousand rats can kill an elephant,” he said.

“What are you even talking about? Did you snort something, to help you get through this? I wouldn’t blame you. I know you’re a coward at heart.”

His voice rasped, “That’s rich, coming from the runt of a woman who keeps her location secret and hides from the authorities while her weapons do the work remotely. I know you’re not very bright, but put the pieces together. It’s not a one man show.”

“One woman,” String Theory said. She looked around. “Sad, that Lustrum isn’t in earshot for that. It would have got me points with her.”

“You’re so far into the negatives with her that it doesn’t matter. We have eighty people with powers here. Think for once. I aim to multiply that power, or at least keep it in play.”

“You’re underestimating how big my gun is. We’re not rats, you know. We’re ants. Little winged insects, buzzing around him.”

He handed out devices to the people who were taking the opportunity to file into the portal to the oil rig. Armbands, earbuds, and injectors.

“My plan, my approach, it acknowledges that we’re ants. The trick is to realize that because we’re ants, we can operate like termites. We bring the building down, and we can kill your elephant. All it takes is the right timing.”

“Termites aren’t ants,” he said.

“Same family, Rat.”

He shook his head slowly.

“When you’re dying, Rat, die knowing I win our bet. I made a knockout punch, you made knick-knacks.”

He gave her a pat on the head as he passed her. He knew she hated it.

Onto the platform, where things were mercifully quiet.

He handed out the armbands and earbuds as well as the injectors. He wove his way through the crowd.

A girl with a bug costume. Tinted lenses. Either symbolic, given the recent conversation, or the universe mocking him.

He drew the equipment from his bag, then hesitated. Something more fitting. A bug in a box for the girl with the bug costume. Maybe she would be more comfortable that way.

⊙

Imperative: Download.