“It’s there if you want it, smear it on,” he said, before slumping down in front of the computer, his body too big for the station or the monitor’s height. He spoke to the screen, “Can we get to work? What are we doing?”

“We’re using some inspiration from Rattenfänger, a villain I had a run in, back in the day. Sound as a vector for biological response. It transmits quickly, it’ll get the coverage we need…”

I turned my full attention to Byron, who was applying bandage. I had my forcefield gradually release its hold on his arm while he wrapped it. He knew what he was doing.

The discussion continued in the background. I applied the cream to the part of the wound Riley had indicated, then to my forehead and scalp, before doing what I could to staunch the flow. Blood trickled down my chest to my stomach, down my side, and down my arm. The hand that had been keeping pressure on the wound had blood running down the length of it to my elbow, making the sleeve stick to the joint.

“Talk to me,” I told Byron.

“I feel like a two right now,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, staying calm despite the alarm. “What can I do? I’ve got emotions on tap, I can listen. Give you perspective, restrain you…”

“This,” he said, pausing in the bandaging process to indicate his arm. “Makes me think of Tristan.”

“A lot of tricky thoughts right now. Some of it’s her.”

“I know,” he said. “I know what you meant earlier, when you said you felt like a nine or ten for other reasons, but when it came to her, you felt like a four. I just… I don’t feel like a nine or a ten.”

“Yeah,” I said, quiet.

“And that’s nothing to do with her. The lighting, the spots in my vision, it makes me think it’s his power, every time, like he’s back, and my hopes get up, every time. It feels like every single little detail that’s around us is something she’s manipulating and it’s pushing me toward…”

“Yeah,” I said, again. “Me too. I think every single one of us feels like we’re getting special attention.”

He swore under his breath in Spanish.

Cryptid’s swearing, though, was far louder. He rose from his seat.

“Woah nelly,” Riley’s voice was almost playful. “What is it?”

“Not a moment’s peace!” Cryptid growled. “It has to be the Simurgh. She’s throwing roadblocks my way. I can’t think for two seconds without something—”

“What happened?” I asked.

“My giant. She’s nonresponsive. I plugged stuff into her so I could track it. She’s gone dark.”

“She’s dead?” I asked. “The very important Mathers Giant that was pacifying the capes the others were rounding up?”