He saw a red-haired woman who hadn’t been at the meeting. The one from the dream? She wiped at her eye, and streaked mascara in the process.

Beside her was a girl with messy ‘grunge’ hair that Gilpatrick had seen in the video, wearing skinny jeans and a crop top, her eyes half-lidded.

And… another girl? Brown-haired, shorter, younger than anyone present.

He did a headcount. Put names to people, helped by the fact that some, like Marcial, Early, and Hanson were wearing PRT uniforms with their names printed on them. Marcial held an automatic rifle, on top of the body armor she wore. A smirk crossed her face.

He was—he checked himself. PRT windbreaker, gun at his hip.

By the headcount, his best guess… “What the hell, Cox?”

The little girl took a second to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. She couldn’t have been older than ten.

“I have no idea,” Cox said.

“Your self-image is that of a little girl?” Gaymon asked.

“I…” Cox floundered, looking lost.

“I’m biracial,” Valentin said. He looked at his striped arm. “I didn’t think it had its roots that deep in me.”

The beast at the other end of the room growled, low and long.

Gilpatrick felt his heart rate rise at that, involuntary, too much of a reaction, all considered. It kept hammering even after the growl stopped.

“I was thinking about my niece,” Cox said. “When we saw the little girl.”

“Shh,” Diaz said. The man glanced over at the red-haired woman. The one from the dream.

“You brought people, huh Precipice?”

“Yeah, Colt. We talked about it on the phone.”

“I know. I expected something different.”

Gilpatrick straightened, adjusting his clothes. He couldn’t say it was a fair representation of who he was or what he imagined when he imagined himself… but he couldn’t say it wasn’t either. He struggled to think of something that felt more familiar or ‘right’ to him.

This was really a thing.

“I guess this is our crash course in being parahuman,” Gilpatrick said.

“Fuck that,” Gaymon retorted. The man wore business casual. Had no gun.

“We don’t get the fun powers, but… jumping from personal crises to fights against giant monsters feels about right,” Gilpatrick said. “No offense, Love Lost, ma’am. You have my condolences.”

He saw her expression change, her full focus on the monster at the end of the room.

“Something just struck me,” Rain said. “I should have thought about it sooner.”

“Yes you should’ve,” Gaymon said, voice terse, tense.

“Shush,” Marcial told her friend. “What should you have thought of?”

“It’s an emotion manipulator. Half of you are armed. What happens if she fills you all with murderous rage? Even for a second?”

Marcial looked down at her assault rifle.

“We’re safe once we’re through. It can’t pursue,” Colt said.

“We actually never tested that last night,” Rain said.