“If it’s not me they ask, then it’s someone else, and you potentially have an even worse day. I know you hate my guts, but the reality is I’m one of the nice ones.”

There were a lot of responses I could give to that. I bit my tongue.

I released my tongue and said, “Hypothetically, if you don’t mind hypotheticals…”

“I’m a great fan of the hypothetical.”

“…If I asked you where you suggested going, if Cedar Point isn’t workable or if it’s untouchable because someone like you is going to step in before any heroes make headway… what places would you suggest? Outside of the established jurisdictions for teams.”

“I wouldn’t suggest anything. It’s a wild west out there and there’s no place for you out there. Not anymore.”

I folded my arms. I’d expected an answer like this.

“The people who win are the people with clout. While you were teaching school kids which direction a gun should point or hauling water out to the refugees still back on Bet, the rest of us were working. I and people like me were getting our hooks in and laying groundwork to build something behind the scenes. Taking over corner worlds, finding footholds in this world, starting up businesses, establishing reputations. The big hero teams have some influence because they’ve been recruiting and they staked out their territory. Hero and villain, we’re the major players, but we operate the same fundamental way. We’re scary. The thinkers, the masters, the masterminds, and the people with the biggest guns.”

“And Cedar Point?”

“Cedar Point, if you want to call it that, and its sister locations are late to the game. They have some clout because they have numbers and a bit of organization, and because they can all scrape together enough money to call in a big gun if they really truly need it. They probably won’t last. Someone nasty will step in and take over what they’re trying to build and it’s probably going to be ugly. The only reason they’ve lasted this long is that the rest of us have bigger fish to fry. They’re still a few rungs up the totem pole above you, mind you.”

“It’s too hard so it’s not worth trying?”

“Go home, Vicky,” she said, almost sighing the words. “Go back, figure out your family thing, keep trying to sign on to one of the big hero teams, you’re bound to find a position somewhere eventually. Some cape will die in battle, and a seat will open up for you and you’ll do fine. Or retire. After what your sister did to you, nobody would blame you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Do what any self-respecting twenty-one-year-old would do after failing to get into university, get a job waitressing or making hero sandwiches. Talk to your kids about the old Glory days.”