“I think I have whiplash,” the teenager said. “I wasn’t expecting that. What the hell?”

“You were intercepted before impact. It looks like teenagers in uniform. With a bus.”

“I can see that,” the teenager said.

“You missed the side door you were supposed to drive through.”

“I can see that too,” the teenager said.

“I can’t tell what you’re looking at, Blindside. Let me know if you need help. Snag?”

“I’m fine,” was the response, a rasp. I heard metal creak.

“Your arm isn’t,” the teenager said. They would be Blindside, going by what the brute had said.

“I’m fine.”

I heard the sound of someone hopping down to land on the street, not all that far away from me. Metal struck the road shortly after.

I only saw a glimpse of him. Work boots, a long coat that hung down low enough that it almost looked like his legs were only two feet long, and arms long enough that his wrists made contact with the ground. The hands rested flat on the road, fingers splayed. He wore gauntlets.

I wanted to see something more than just his feet, but as I started to raise my eyes, looking through the hair that had come loose from my braid, my eyes were forced down, until they were staring at the road. I heard the scrape of another person’s feet as they climbed down from the truck to the street.

“My fucking neck,” Blindside said. The person in question.

Try as I might, I couldn’t look at them. My eyes and head refused to cooperate and do what was necessary to put them in my field of vision.

“Don’t complain,” said the brute.

“You weren’t on the truck. You don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t complain about. Fuck, I wasn’t expecting that hit. Did both K.C. and Nursery fuck up?”

“The timing was wrong,” a woman said. Nursery, I assumed.

There were so many of them. The brute, Snag, Blindside, Nursery, and K.C.—I really hoped that K.C. was the mass-master I’d seen in the crowd. If they weren’t, then there were six of them in total. Six and the crowd that the exploding parahuman had control of.

We had four capes on the inside, me, and a bunch of high schoolers, some of whom had guns. None of whom, cape or student, that I wanted involved in this conflict.

The five or six attacking capes wouldn’t be attacking like this if they weren’t sure they could win.

“Don’t be stupid,” Snag said, his voice a rough growl, volume raised.

He wasn’t talking to me. He was directing that at Jasper and the other two.

Drive away, I thought, willing Jasper to think the same. Be okay, drive away. Leave me.