I twisted, using my hand to disengage his hand and push it back toward him before stepping back.

It was something I’d learned very early on into having my powers. Everyone had known. I’d been able to show it off in class. Enhanced strength. Lifting the teacher’s desk with ease.

That it made people uneasy. That it scared them. Awed them at the same time.

I hadn’t used my aura, my flight, my forcefield. I hadn’t relied on any intuition. Only hand-to-hand training and assuredness that came with knowing I had the bigger stick when it came down to it.

And that was enough.

Galled, spooked, wounded, Eric glared at me. Others looked alarmed, like they thought a fight might break out. Pearce wasn’t even following the Machine Army fight in this moment.

“You’re supposed to listen to the unpowered,” Eric said. I was hard pressed to think of anything more impotent he could say.

“You’re supposed to earn it,” Citrine said, from the head of the table. “It used to be default, because you built society and we came to it. The rules changed when it was a city we had a big part in building, defending, and feeding.”

I didn’t want you on my side here, I thought.

“Not what I was going for, Citrine—Mayor Wynn,” I said. “I’m okay with following the rules, but it can’t be arbitrary. I’ll follow the law if it comes from a lawyer or judge. Not a random citizen. It’s their city.”

“It’s ours too. We keep bleeding and dying for it but we’re not supposed to claim any part of it.”

“Maybe, but it’s not the time or the place, Madam Mayor,” I said.

“Probably not,” she said, to me. To the rest of the room, she said, “Ignore me. I’m grieving and saying silly things.”

I remained where I was, facing this claustrophobic room of tired people who had shucked off suit jackets and hung them on the backs of chairs. Who looked like every last one of them had no idea of where to stand. It had emptied by half and by the design of it, I felt like it could empty by half again and it would still feel like there was nowhere to stand that wasn’t uncomfortably proximate to someone else.

But the emotion was heavy in the air. Tension.

They were trapped in a cage with a lion and a panther, and both animals focused on them, rather than on one another.

And I was the dreaded lioness.

“I’m sorry for the disruption,” I said.

I was going to say more. But I was taking in the faces. I was aware Jeanne was leaving. That she’d played a part.

Was this that spurt of lava, reaching this far?

“Are we keeping tabs on the anti-parahumans?” I asked.