He held out his right hand. “On the other hand, Miss Militia offers us assurances, and we are not assured. We don’t trust you as a whole, and as things rest in this hand, we can’t come to a resolution.”

No contract or no resolution? What?

“By a showing of hands?”

Some raised extended both hands, as if out for a hug. Some raised their right hands. Only one held out left hand only.

“Can I comment?” Miss Militia asked.

“You have,” Luis said.

A woman wrapped in loose cloth stepped out of Yosef’s group. Her hair was braided at the sides, straight along the top. “By the deal and compact we formed with you, Red Queen, Marquis, Cryptid, in exchange for your freedom to settle and our cooperation and support, you are to protect us against any and all transgressors.”

I looked at Miss Militia. Her weapon wasn’t changing. What she’d said about being ready to use our powers, was she signaling we shouldn’t use ours? That we shouldn’t fight this?

Her back was ramrod straight, and her focus was wholly on the other group of parahumans.

Ah. There it was. That annoying sliver of hope in my ex-sister’s eyes wasn’t there anymore.

We outnumbered them. We could win. And we probably would.

But at what cost?

“Arrest them,” Luis said, indicating us.

Breaking 14.7

Chris’s brash chortle of a laugh formed the backdrop of the tense, otherwise silent few seconds as every cape present tried to figure out what the fuck we were supposed to do.

“This isn’t a joke,” Luis said. The way he stood, the light didn’t catch his eyes, so the sockets were cast into shadow.

“I know. I just can’t—your sheer cojones,” Chris said.

Yosef and the woman I was assuming was his wife looked at their translator, then at Luis. Both clasped hands together, Luis in front of him, Yosef behind him, and shrugged.

Weird, the things that ended up so similar, in societies so distinct.

“Balls,” Chris clarified, with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re not helping,” Amy said.

“You’re implying I should be.”

I looked at Miss Militia, and she raised her eyebrows. Her scarf was pulled down, as she’d removed it when we’d all removed our masks, and her lips were pressed into a firm line.

She wasn’t speaking up.

I turned to look at my team. Sveta looked faintly angry, and I wasn’t sure how much of that was Amy, and how much was this being a slap in the face to someone who’d tried to realize their humanity, only to be defined by how human she wasn’t.

Tristan held a pose almost like Ashley’s usual one, a little arrogant, like someone who was standing a little extra taller because they expected to be knocked down a peg at any moment.