The next slide was a digital photo of Cheit leadership, in their long suit-jackets and straight-leg slacks, walking with sandals on in weather too wet and chilly for it. The right half of the image had a zoomed-in version of one of their arms, where skin could be seen through the cuff. The man had a vein running along the back that glowed like white hot metal.

“No, that’s Earth Cheit,” Gary said. “Next.”

A candid photo. Marquis and Lord of Loss on the rooftop of the Lodge.

“That’s Earth Nun,” Gary said.

“We get your point,” Tristan said. “And that’s outdated.”

Being right doesn’t mean he’s wrong, I thought.

“Outdated? So humans are in charge now?” Gary asked.

Tristan shook his head.

“Good enough for my point that you say you’ve already grasped,” Gary said. “Next?”

The mayor, side by side with an image of Citrine from the Brockton Bay era, pre-Gold Morning.

The room filled with murmurs.

“Tell me again how the mayor signing off on your activities is okay. Tell me how we’re supposed to be okay with secret after secret, lie after lie, coverup after coverup. With people wearing masks while leading double lives. Tell me how we’re supposed to be okay with the fact that every single world we’re in regular contact with, our world included, is under the thumb of parahumans, openly, otherwise, or currently undergoing a transfer of leadership between powers.”

Amy. The thought made my thoughts skip beats, turned mental connections into dead ends.

Yeah. Fucking thanks, Cinereal.

Gary had been ready, waiting for someone to take a stand or speak up, to drop this. He’d planned to drop them as attention-grabbers late in this specific event, or he’d been holding them in reserve for when he was challenged, quietly changing minds and turning hearts away from capes in the meantime.

This was more serious than we’d been led to believe. Gary was armed with all the damning information.

“You’re right,” Rain said.

I turned his way, caught off guard. I wasn’t the only one.

“It’s not okay. This whole dynamic is—Jesus, it’s fucked.”

I was betting that ‘Jesus’ wasn’t because of my tip to him. It came from his stress, speaking in front of so many eyes.

Rain looked to me, to the others for support.

I nodded. Swansong didn’t move, holding her head high. Tristan put a hand at Rain’s shoulder.

The crowd was talking among themselves, and Gary seemed to be waiting for them to drop in volume before responding, visibly forming his response.

Rain didn’t wait. Rain went ahead, and people shut up because they wanted to hear him.