When powers were as close to the surface as they were for Case Fifty-Threes, that meant possibilities. It meant hope.

Infrared 19.3

TITANS RETREATING. WILL UPDATE YOU AS SITUATION CHANGES.

One Titan mobilizing, the rest retreating. It was practically an invitation to give chase. The problem was that we were being invited to give chase to Fortuna. Contessa.

“Firing positions!” Aunt Sarah called out.

“Coming!” Crystal called out. She turned in the air to look at me. “You too! You’re a flying laser type now!”

“I’ve got to check on my team.”

“We’ll be nearby!”

I nodded.

Immediately, as soon as they were gone, I regretted my decision. If I’d asked them to stay, I would have asked them to make me a parking spot. As it was, it was hard to find a spot to land when carrying a gun the size of a truck with me, not helped by the fact that my fragile alter-ego was different now. I had to dig forcefield fingers into the housing to maintain my grip on it, and that damage made it less sound. End result: I had to fly carefully to avoid dropping it on anyone below, and flying carefully made it harder to fly to a clearing.

Things were complicated more by the fact that our side was jittery. I struggled to pull out a better word for it. Intimidated as all hell, running for cover, running to the enemy. The Titans were still working on recovering from what we’d done, and the ones who had recovered fastest seemed diminished somehow.

People were milling around below me like ants, and I just wanted to get situated so I could get my team members together.

“Coming down!” I shouted, as I saw a spot. I flared my aura a bit, which made some people stop in their tracks. The reaction wasn’t shock and fear like I expected.

I’d have to figure it out later. I called out, “Heads up!”

They scrambled out of the way. Bit of an asshole move, butting in, using my power on friendlies, but there was a real hazard that I’d lose my grip on the gun and drop it on someone.

That, and if I waited around too long, we’d fall behind. Contessa is moving.

I landed, the gun crunching to earth a second later. I focused most of my efforts on making sure the curved housing of the gun didn’t cause a not-so-slapstick swing of the barrel as it settled, braining people nearby.

Sorry for the abuse, gun. You’re doing a good job.

Sveta was sitting with her back to a wall. One of the Harbingers was next to her.

“Everything okay?” I asked her.

“Bit spooked,” she said. “My body’s—”