I looked across the chasm at the Nemean Titan, who was distracted by a shift in the distant battle. He looked back down at the chasm, at a scene of himself, a little older, at a stove with a cast iron pan in front of him.

He moved away, attention taken by the fighting, and the scene moved away with him.

Do you have any regrets now? I thought.

Do you feel one tenth as ugly as I feel, having this stuff exposed for the civilians to see? Is that part of you there?

I hope some dim part of you realizes that this is now how people will remember you.

The images of Nemean had receded, and other ones appeared. Rain killing Snag. The silver line, the cut.

The aftermath, when he fell to his knees by Snag’s body, broken mechanical arms limp beside his ordinary ones. The other members of the team making their way, our way to his side. To support, encourage. Or so it appeared.

Different, I thought.

Me as Glory Girl, facing down a thug. He struck me, hit the forcefield, and did nothing. I’d raised my foot, preparing to kick him in the hip. He shielded himself with his hands ready, backing up. It didn’t matter. Flight got me close, strength like I could manage didn’t care about what he did. The kick sent him skidding ten feet, ruined his hands while the kick still dislocated his leg from the socket of his hip. The sudden movement of his lower body had been enough to do some minor damage to his spine. Or so my sister would later tell me.

I’d stayed there, talking to him, taunting, until my family had arrived. Uncle Neil and Dad.

No reprimands, no punishment. Just a hand on my head, eliciting an annoyed look from me to my Uncle Neil, where I tried to fix my spiked tiara.

Different, I thought, again. They deserved it.

Scenes flowed like water. Always related in subtle ways. Always, depending on where we looked, the landscape was consistent for a given location.

Students of misery, yes, but specific miseries. This was a landmark point in the agents’ stores of physical ruin, maimings and destruction. At least for this sub-network. The landscape far below us was cracked, too. It had its own gaps and chasms. What lay below us wasn’t an endless plain, but a series of islands. What the Titans were doing was connecting the islands together into a discrete whole.

WE’RE WAITING FOR YOU GUYS TO MAKE A MOVE. WHEN YOU DO, I SAY GO AND OTHER TEAMS USE BOMBS.

I looked over at the Nemean Titan. He stood near my gun, but didn’t target it. I was almost more worried the capes who were bombarding him with powers would trigger something.

I KNOW YOU CAN’T GET TO IT YET.