A constellation of motes appeared on one side of the two guards. They shifed their shields around, and another constellation appeared on the opposite side.

Their efforts to block the water weren’t sufficient. They were drenched in freezing water, while winter cold blew in from the open door.

I flew past them as they collapsed, heading down the hall to collect the others.

One guard already dispatched, lying limp at one side of the hallway with shield and weapon lying beside her, no longer crackling. The other had a weapon pointed at Swansong while his shield barred Sveta. Sveta reached out, hand becoming ribbons, and ribbons becoming tooth-edged tendrils, reaching below the shield to snag his feet.

The man fell, and Swansong leaped like she was going to land on his back. Hands over head, she blasted skyward, driving herself down for a power-augmented kick. The blast raked ceiling without penetrating the full breadth of it, and white dust rained down around her, while lights flickered.

I threw some restraints to Sveta. “Keep an eye out? We’ll be with you soon.”

She nodded.

By the time I got to the lip of the entrance, things were settled. Roman was climbing out of a window, while Imp stood by with Juliette, Samuel, and Chastity.

The delivery men and the guards were bound.

“Building’s clear,” Capricorn reported.

“Thralls?” I asked.

“Couldn’t tell, so we killed them. Even the suspicious looking kids and old people,” Juliette was monotone as she said it.

“You can’t see while my mask is on, but I’m rolling my eyes so effectively it would break our Catena’s heart. She’s joking,” Imp said. “Yes on the thrall question, no on the killing part.”

“You can’t break what doesn’t exist,” Juliette said. She laid a clawed gauntlet over her heart. “Heartless and proud to be.”

“Brainless too,” Roman said. He wore a venetian mask in gunmetal gray, with crimson-highlighted blades and decoration at the edges. Cracks ran through it and each crack was traced in red. His costume setup was similar to mine, with a breastplate and mostly decorative pieces of armor elsewhere.

“We established a long, long time ago that I’m smarter than you,” Juliette told him. “Don’t try to bring me down. You’re making yourself look worse.”

Imp stepped forward, putting herself between the two, hands clasped behind her back, looking skyward. “Remember the deal. Play or go home.”

The stragglers of Imp’s group were gathered around the window, having climbed through. Citrine’s capes. High quality, boring costumes from the neck down, and very strange masks that extended from forehead to chin, but as a relatively narrow band that expanded out to the sides to showcase decorative elements like lenses or frames around the eye, horns at each corner of the forehead, altered noses or altered mouths. Ear protection like earmuffs covered each ear, similarly decorated.