But Riley wasn’t required for that. There was nothing she could theoretically do.

But after?

“No more than an hour, but it might be less than that,” I told her. “Could be half that.”

“It would need to be deployed. I’d have to get it from here to there,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s… genocide,” I answered her.

Chris was staring into my eyes.

“Oh. Of?”

“Us.” No use dressing it up.

It wasn’t even easy to say.

“That’s a big ask.”

“I know, but we have resources—”

“For me, I mean. As a person. I don’t do that kind of thing. I’m… I find outlets like squeaky toads and earpods, clones that aren’t clones. I experiment with lifeforms that could seed other planets with life, and think about bio-rockets that might be able to get them there. I make real life versions of cartoon characters and movie characters I used to like. I don’t want to hurt people.”

“Even if it means saving everyone else?” I asked.

“I think I get why your sister wasn’t up to the task, now,” Riley said. “Give me the details.”

I did, outlining the parameters, the distinctions, the scale we were talking.

“How long does it take for me to get from where I am to where you are?” Riley asked.

I heard Aunt Sarah’s response, even if I couldn’t make out every word.

“That’s too long, then.”

“I can do it.”

I looked over at Chris, who was twenty feet away. Taking on a bestial form. He was going for his old namesake, it seemed. Black furred, rodent-like, lanky, with an arched back. He’d just spoken despite a mouthful of crooked teeth.

“Can you give instructions to my old teammate?” I asked. “He’ll access a lab to work, I’m assuming, put it together.”

“It would have to be a tinker,” Riley told me. “Specialty in anything relating to biology, blood, cloning, genetics, parasites, or anything like that.”

“He is.”

“Then that works. Good! Perfect! Cool.”

“We’ll be in touch,” I told her.

There was no time for niceties or farewells.

Chris and I ran through the doors, hurrying to catch up with the team.

Last 20.3

This facility has been raided twice, I thought. Now we need to defend it.

A woman lunged out of a hallway, catching Hookline off guard. She got in two quick cuts with her knife.

“Fucking—!” Hookline drew his chain around himself, forming overlapping ‘x’s of shifting chain that blocked two more swings. He grabbed the hook that was attached to the end of the chain, ready to swing.

Byron kicked her with a metal boot instead, which got her away. Clockblocker bent down and touched her.

“Fucking hell,” Hookline muttered. Blood ran down from his lacerated arm to his elbow.

Win hurried to catch up. “There was a group in a side hallway. I would have warned you.”

“It’s okay,” Clockblocker said.

“Real fucking okay,” Hookline swore, pulling a bloody hand away from the knife wound, “Fucking…”