We were fighting students of misery. They kept records of our struggles and weaknesses, and they administered our powers. Now, when we had the firmest grip on our powers and we were struggling most, they had more power over us than ever.

The scene replayed from another angle. I could imagine it was from my dad’s point of view.

A bit of golden-blonde hair above a white bodysuit. The Wretch taking hold of my mother, and swiping her against a concrete wall like someone might strike a match.

No illusions, no faking it. The people down there could see me high above them, the gold on my gun contrasted against the night sky, held by the same pseudo-telekinesis that had maimed my mother. They could see the repeated scene in the crystals.

I wanted to shoot now, to obliterate the scene, and make it so it wouldn’t play any more. To do something to refute it.

Not that easy, Victoria.

I kept track of the Titans while watching the people work. The Nemean Titan was prowling nearby, getting more confident in targeting capes as he got in close to some, stole their ability to move their own bodies or communicate, and got steadily more competent.

He didn’t move on all fours now, and he seemed taller and denser. Like he couldn’t scale a skyscraper without simultaneously toppling it, now.

Three Titans operated on coordination, and in this screwed up dynamic, Skadi was now effectively on our side. Titans Oberon and Auger were on the far side of the battlefield, but the seemingly endless flesh monsters were occupying them.

My finger had a tremor, as I held it near the trigger.

Seeing those images below made me want to pull the trigger. Raw, base level emotion.

Seeing the Titans on the horizon, the sheer devastation, I wanted to pull the trigger and do something about it all.

But I knew that being close to pulling the trigger might draw Skadi to me. Drawing her to me might mean there was one less thing fighting the trio of Nemean, Ophion, and the Stranger. They weren’t brawlers like Oberon’s group seemed to be, but they were combatants who could use the slightest bit of disruption to make that one point of contact. Nemean got close enough to steal away someone’s faculties in an instant. Ophion pricked someone with a needle. The Stranger stole sanity away with blasts we couldn’t see or avoid, short of staying behind cover.

The jittery movement of my finger almost reflected the three things pulling at me. An emotional and a logical drive to pull the trigger, pull it, Victoria. A feeling of wanting to not pull it and set the dominoes to toppling, where I couldn’t tell if it was logical or emotional.