Two new Titans had joined Ophion, the Nemean Titan, and Titan Fortuna. I narrowed my eyes and aimed, firing at the Titan that was still emerging and rising to its full height. It was more fragile as it emerged, but I was put in the situation of having to figure out how he grew and anticipate it, or else I was distributing my damage across multiple points. Slowly, he came together, sleek, long-limbed and tall, but incapable of standing straight, as his back arched in an ‘s’ shape.

The other Titan was already fully grown, and was moving slowly, finding her legs, so to speak. She was tall, narrow, and her head was a mostly faceless helmet with only a hole where the one eye should be. Long, sky blue hair draped down to pool on the ground at her ‘feet’, so to speak, and trail behind her. The weight of the hair and the way it pulled on her seemed to force her head down and to the side, where it periodically twitched and trembled.

Most notably, her arms were like a praying mantis’s limbs, with the final segments being rods, not points. More sky blue hair flowed down from different points, including the tail end of the weapon, her elbows, and her knees.

I couldn’t dwell on her. Heroes closer to the scene were dealing with her, doing as much damage as they could get away with while she figured out how her body moved.

My focus was on the new guy. Five minutes after the praying mantis woman, he’d cracked. Now I unloaded into him, fully aware that I was running out of battery.

But it stunted his growth, slowed him down, and served as the equivalent of postponing one impending threat so we could focus on the other four. Others, Aunt Sarah included, were helping.

In the background, Tristan was shoring up the area. Capes had managed to protect the area around all the bridges and safe ground we’d made, steering away the cracks. I wasn’t sure how they’d managed to do it, but I was really fucking curious. I was willing to bet there was a whole story there, power testers or enterprising problem solvers in the Wardens’ ranks figuring out an interaction. I wanted to be a part of that, if only to apply that problem solving going forward.

Maybe I could.

While holding the gun and paying close attention to where the blasts went, I reached into the pocket of my top between the breastplate and my stomach, and I pulled out my phone.

It felt very strange to be scrolling through my contact list at the same time I was firing a death laser.

I heard the phone ring. It was distorted, and the distortions matched up with the thrums I felt coming through my death laser gun.

“Hey! You called! What’s up?” The voice, similarly, was chopped up. “Rain’s on his way.”