“Hm. You’ll need something for that. Didn’t cross my mind,” he said, voice low, attention on his screens, which had nothing to do with the simulation.

“You’re that far gone, Defiant?” Clockblocker called out, from the far end of the other bench. “Forgot about us mere mortals needing keyboards and mice and voice commands to operate tech?”

Defiant grunted, in what might have been annoyance, assent, or negation.

“I remember liking the interfacing he made for tech he helped me with,” Kid Win said. Was it Kid Win?

“Give me a moment,” Defiant said.

“Hey, Kid Win,” I said, addressing him from the opposite corner of the Uther’s rear bay. “Did you end up changing your name? You went by your civilian name when we crossed paths.”

“I had ideas. Clockblocker is trying to convince me of Winman.”

“No,” I said.

“It works,” Clockblocker’s humor was audible in his tone. “Like a wingman, but without the ‘g’.”

“That makes no sense,” Damsel of Distress told him.

“We’re part of the cursed generation,” Clockblocker said, his bench leaning forward from the weight of two other members of the flock and some of Deathchester sitting on it. He lifted a bandaged ankle up to his knee. “A lot of the good names were taken, we were young and inexperienced as things started ramping up… most of the people my age were totally unprepared for the world ending. We only got ‘lucky’ because our city went to shit.”

“Lucky,” Christopher said, almost inaudible.

“I like my name,” Finale said. “Finale. It really works.”

I was ninety-five percent sure it was taken. I decided not to break her heart by saying so. Caryatid too, for that matter.

The chatter continued. Defiant’s voice was deep and distinctive enough to cut through it.

“Antares. Slash your hand through it to execute. Same movement in reverse to stop.”

“Good word, execute,” Damsel observed, leaning into the top of his seat. One of her hands hung limp at her side, claws dragging across the floor.

I executed, karate-chopping the simulation. Everyone close to the Wardens’ base, assuming the Simurgh would arrive there.

She didn’t. She moved to the largest encampment of refugees. I adjusted, moving some people around.

“Taking off!” Defiant raised his voice. “Take your seats or grab a handhold!”

I used a grip on the passenger seat to keep myself upright until I had a sense of where the craft was going, then used flight to help keep up. I adjusted the response teams for the crisis, then karate-chopped the projection again.

Red dots began to surround the Simurgh. Civilians, I assumed, who were being weaponized and turned into threats. Heroes mobilized, used portals…

And the Machine Army escaped its perimeter.

I stopped, sent forces over, drawing a circle around a group of teams, then directing them to the Machine Army.

Something wiped out half of the forces on the heroes’ side.

“What?” I asked.