“I want to talk to her about secret ID stuff, civilian stuff,” Vista said.

“Are you—”

“I’m pulling that card,” Vista said.

Solarstare winked at me, and in the time we’d had our conversation, it was the first time she’d blinked or even closed an eye. The wink came with a flash and a sudden surge of brightly glowing liquid. She sauntered, rather than just walk off.

Vista was still a little pink in the wake of Solarstare’s departure.

“She’s fun,” I said.

“You know what the sad thing is?” Vista asked, quiet. “She is. But she used to be this really quiet, reserved girl who always read books while everyone else hung out. She was arrogant, looked down on people, acting like she was thirty and not eighteen. She snitched a few times, when some capes were drinking, and even the supervisors were like… fuck off, Solarstare. Let them be. You know?”

“What happened?”

“She got punted into a wall during a fight. TBI.”

Traumatic brain injury.

“The entire time they were taking her to the hospital, she was screaming, flailing, using her powers, fighting every step of the way. Swelling inside the skull went down and she was normal-ish, except she’d lost the ability to read, speak, listen to music, or understand even slightly abstract pictures. Over the past six months she’s been working her way back to normal.”

“But she’s different?”

“Completely different personality. Less filters, but also more open, more empathetic, more outgoing. And she kind of needs to be watched to make sure she doesn’t go overboard with drinking or sex or anything else. So that’s, uh, part of why she’s the way she is.”

“I wonder how much of it has to do with the near death experience. A bit of a wake-up-call about what she nearly missed out on.”

“I don’t know,” Vista said. “It’s scary though. Bam, personality change.”

I nodded.

“You guys really seem to be living the life. Crystal’s been in Warden-orbit for a bit now, but she didn’t mention the drinking and sex and… a lot going on at this High Hill Bravo?”

“Ugh, I was worried Solar would give that impression.”

I raised my eyebrows, then remembered that my mask covered my upper face. I took it off and laid it on the table beside me. We were in the ‘branding’ corner of the Bunker. Jessica and my team were in the opposite corner, having a private conversation or group session.

Leaving me to wonder, to stew, and admittedly, to hurt.

“It kind of is a…” Vista started. “I don’t even know the term. Co-ed summer camp, frat house, sorority, high school, mission deployment. A lot of people aged sixteen to twenty-five with not enough supervision, just thrown in together with bunk beds and sleeping bags, in sometimes really lonely circumstances.”

“Sure,” I said. “Gravitate together?”

“Yeah,” Vista said. “Connect.”