Two things on one side, one thing on the other, I had to consciously put effort in to pull my finger away. It would be disastrous to fire at the wrong time.

Two smaller things, one huge, overwhelming, frankly terrifying reality on the other. The carnage would put lives at risk. People I’d put in the line of fire. That scared me more than me being hurt, pricked by Ophion, or having my sanity smeared out of my brain like I’d smeared my mother’s head against the wall. I had to stop myself from pulling too far away, or even dropping the gun.

Focus, be ready. Watch the Titans.

In the crystal, past the crystal, I saw glimmers of white. Floors and walls made of white, nonporous sheets of polycarbonate. One patch on the wall that was damaged, awaiting repair, with plastic sealed over it. Pallid flesh that was hard to distinguish from the white tile. And moisture, water being sprayed with the kind of nozzle that dishwashers in kitchens used.

Being washed, because I couldn’t wash myself. This scene captured my attention because I couldn’t be sure what it was, even if I knew the where and approximate when.

It started with a splash, and I knew.

I looked away, to track the Nemean Titan, who was getting closer to me, running, bounding. Not coming for me, not exactly, but veering closer to my direction as he chased a speedster.

I looked back to the tantrum.

I’m an educated, smart, well-dressed woman who can defend herself, who knows her shit, who protects the weak and hurts evil people.

Watch my naked, soaking wet, misshapen self tear apart a bathtub, scream—no sound when viewing crystal-pictures, of course—and shove a nurse across a room. Watch her—watch me—try to smash my head against the walls and sides of the tub, to try to break the forcefield so I could rake myself with fingernails or bludgeon myself into unconsciousness. It was always back up just a bit too fast.

I’m a heroine, dressed in black and gold, who gives her all, collecting injuries around the edges. Even in my lapse from superheroics, I was working in the Patrol, trying to help the city and the people in it. Trying to encourage compassion and balanced views in the officers I helped train and educate.

Watch me at my lowest points, wailing, unable to even wash myself, getting sores in creases and folds because refusing to cooperate and let myself be washed was one of the few choices I had.

Dozens, hundreds of bystanders were down there, many of them getting clear views of the scene.