Vista pushed the wall out so it bulged, and bid us to step inside. She pinched it shut, drawing the sides together and the top down, all close to the ground.

“Can’t see how good my work is,” Vista whispered.

“Shh,” I said.

Ten seconds passed. Guards appeared in my one eye, then disappeared.

I could hear the tromp of boots.

They carried on running toward the plaza, where things were riotous.

I nudged Vista, and she undid the effect, unpinching the gap so we could stoop through, then letting the wall revert back to normal.

“You’ve gotten better,” I said.

“I’ve been working my ass off. Doing everything the books say might help. Even fucking meditation. I hate meditation.”

“Why meditation?” Ashley asked.

“Because you need to change the way you think about your powers,” Vista said.

“Did it work?”

Vista made an ‘enh’ sound, unimpressed and unsure. “Some stuff did, somewhere along the line.”

“It’s like the hair,” Ashley said.

“Hair?” Vista asked.

“Putting it in your costume, to extend the Manton effect. Victoria’s idea. Lots of useful ideas.”

“Benefit of being a good guy. The crooks don’t have good power labs.”

“Mm.”

Vista gave us a way beneath the next camera, adjusting the gap beneath without modifying anything in the camera’s field of view.

“Cryptid’s closing in,” I said. “Crock o’ Shit’s keeping close to Armstrong and Nat. Coalbelcher’s… not really a runner. He’s covering ground Cryptid isn’t. I think he’s been here before, because he’s moving with purpose.”

“He’s not sticking with his team,” Ashley said.

“Cryptid?” I asked. I got a short nod in response. “He isn’t.”

“He doesn’t think in terms of teamwork. He thinks in terms of problem solving.”

“Sounds right,” I said. “We have to out-problem solve him.”

I could use the tech Kenzie had given me to track what was going on, and it told me we were getting into an area with more prison staff. I’d noted before we entered the prison that it was built like a castle set between two halves of a bisected high-rise. The hallway before us, divided halfway down with a gate or small portcullis, marked the distinction between the ‘castle’ and the high rise part. With the change came a stark contrast in, well, everything. The tile transitioned smoothly from slate gray and black to a glossy black and tiles with sunset hues like oil on a roadside puddle. Statues embedded into the wall broke up the stone on either side of us, allowing for the transition to the maroon and tinted glass of the high-rise.