Love Lost stepped into the living room, claws clicking against the floor—three at the toes, one stabbing down from the heel, her feet encased in thermal stockings that extended up her legs. The moisture didn’t seem to stick to any of it, wicking off immediately.

Colt was lying on the couch, and sprung to her feet as Love Lost entered. Love Lost gently pushed her back into her seat.

A knife-finger pointed at Colt, a warning.

“Sorry,” Colt said. “I tried.”

Disjoint continued, “There was other stuff, Cheit’s mercenaries and some follow-up to the portal or something that they’re planning, but they didn’t talk much about that. Mostly their focus was on teaming up and trading enemies. Making sure March doesn’t get in contact with any member of your cluster, and making sure Cradle—”

“—Doesn’t steal the powers of another member of the cluster,” was the response.

Cradle stepped out of the kitchen.

Sidepiece met Disjoint’s eyes. Her hand moved closer to her midsection. Shit. Shitty shit shit shit.

“They don’t understand the most basic and fundamental truth when it comes to the Mall Stampede Cluster,” Cradle said.

Love Lost visibly winced at the mention of the mall.

“Sorry, L.L. But the fact is, if we were going to kill any member of the cluster, it’s going to be the kid,” Cradle said. “You don’t need to worry.”

Love Lost nodded.

Cradle, tousle-haired, wearing tinted goggles and a mask, looked as much like a kid as anyone, Sidepiece observed.

But as irreverent as she tried to be in the face of an unjust, grisly world, she could read the tension in the air. She could shut up when absolutely necessary.

Her stomach was doing flip-flops. Her pancreas was at that stage in its growth where each tiny growth made it twitch and flip up, then flop down, slapping lightly against the raw meat around it.

“I’m ninety percent done our second version,” Cradle told Love Lost. “I got peckish, I decided to use the kitchen. I told your henchman there to sit on the couch and let me tinker together some snacks. So take that claw away from her throat.”

Love Lost withdrew the claw. Her eyes narrowed. She started to type.

“Ninety percent because I want another scan,” Cradle said. “You gave me one of… his, I think it was.”

He was pointing at Disjoint.

Love Lost nodded.

“I’ll get one of my own. The data you collect is slightly different from what I get. Differences in focus.”

Love Lost looked at Disjoint.

“So long as it doesn’t hurt me any,” Disjoint said.

“It won’t,” Cradle said. His smile was thin, hollow.

Are we pretending that we weren’t just talking about Cradle hurting Love Lost? He says he won’t and we believe him? Sidepiece wondered.