“I feel like it’s right.”

Rain nodded, taking that simple statement at face value.

“Empty your guns,” Gilpatrick said.

“What?” Marcial asked. “Bullshit.”

“We put every last bullet into that thing. It means we can’t put those bullets in each other. We do as much damage as we can, push through.”

“That leaves us unarmed for what comes next,” Marcial said.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Gilpatrick said. “Assess our threat: we’re pretty sure it’s master?”

“Love Lost is master-class. That thing is what’s in charge of handing her that power,” Rain said.

“Holy shit,” Gaymon said. “Every single one of you has something like this?”

“Not quite like this. This is a fighter. It’s meant to protect the room. Others… they observe, they mess with stuff. I dunno,” Rain said.

“Every one of you capes has something sort of like this?” Gaymon asked. “Fuck me.”

“This is a chance to understand parahumans,” Gilpatrick said. “Not to move further from them.”

“We have a time limit before we all wake up,” Rain said. “The more time we have, the more we can mess with the system. Assuming we can get there.”

“Meaning shoot now?” Marcial asked.

“If you can hit that thing from where you’re at,” Rain said. “It’s a brute, probably. That’s a classification, right?”

“Yeah,” Gilpatrick said. He was trying to support the boy, keep him level, keep him focused. His own experience with the PRT had been fighting tooth and nail against things he barely understood, like the cage people, and trying to help out the capes as best he could.

He had to privately admit that he much preferred doing the latter.

Marcial aimed down the sights of her assault rifle. “It warps as it moves.”

“It’s four-dimensional,” Rain said. “The one last night got bigger and had more arms as we got closer. This one might have something similar.”

“Diddle me with a broken bottle,” Marcial said. “It can’t be as easy as pointing and shooting, can it?”

“Never, in my experience,” Diaz said.

Diaz speaking up made Gilpatrick wonder about the others.

Valentin and Cox were quiet.

Why them?

Was it just a natural result of how fucked up this dark corner of the universe was?

Fuck.

“Master, brute, and let’s call it breaker and let’s assume it’s not going to un-break anytime soon!” Gilpatrick called out, raising his voice. “Emotion powers, be ready! Stay in your quadrants, we bolt as a group when the last bullet is fired! Communicate all context!”

“No arguments!” Marcial said. “Let me shoot first! As soon as—”

She bent down, reaching for her ankle. She had a gun strapped there. She smiled, turning to Gaymon—

Then turned the other way. “Red hair!”

Love Lost looked at her. She looked deranged, with the smeared mascara.

“How good a shot are you?”

“Fuck you, Marcial,” Gaymon said. “I’m not that bad a shot.”