It really wasn’t the thing capturing most of my attention right now. Back to Sveta, “Should we contact someone, try to get you help?”

“I’ll manage,” she said. “I wanted to stop for five minutes, see if things resolved on their own. Or if calming down helped.”

“Where’s Tristan?”

“Hitting the Titan. Go find him, come back? I could use the rest of those five minutes.”

I could see other Case Fifty-Threes around, like Whippersnap and Chantilly, and I could see Weld wasn’t that far off either. It was surprising to see Weld on the periphery of all of that, but I was pretty sure the weirdness of that situation didn’t extend to the old Irregulars being wholly cool and fair to Sveta again.

A lot of the Case Fifty-Threes were struggling. Weld’s skin was crawling, so to speak, textures shifting. Chantilly had shed some lace. Engel was flaring, bright lights dancing along her skin. Tastes, physical sensations, and smells flooded my mind.

Fuck. I didn’t like taking that in.

“You’re sure?” I asked, worried I might be overheard if I made it clear why I didn’t feel great leaving her behind. Some of those people had been outright hateful in the past.

“Five has my back.”

The Harbinger nodded.

“Alright,” I said. “Okay. Be safe.”

“You too. You weren’t here, but they’re saying the Stranger Titan is insanity-raying anyone who steps out of cover,” Sveta told me. “Stay low.”

I nodded.

Crystal and Aunt Sarah were close enough that I could have flown to join them in ten seconds. Maybe a minute if I went to get my gun and got it operational again.

“Crystal!” I called out, as I flew up, first.

She turned, looking, hand still glowing as the laser was emitted from her fingertips.

“Keep an eye out for Sveta?”

She nodded.

I flew over to get my gun, and took a few seconds to check it over and make sure it wasn’t going to fall apart on me the next time I picked it up.

Using my forcefield hands to pinch metal together, curl ragged edges, and straighten what was bent, I simultaneously figured out the new limits of my forcefield. The reach of the arms, the number and position of them.

My forcefield had long hair. Longer than I was used to. Less arms, less legs. Like it was halfway between where my old forcefield had been and where ‘the Wretch’ had been.

Just gotta get my gun in good enough shape I can shoot if I need to. We might have to go after Titan Fortuna. If she’s anything like her old host, she can do anything perfectly, and get the ideal outcomes. Raises the question: what can she do about a beam that moves the speed of light, fired from the clouds?

I wasn’t being rhetorical, asking myself that. I was genuinely concerned.

But I didn’t have any better ideas.