As a group, we made our departure. On to the next phase of the plan. We passed by the heroes who were recovering, getting first aid, or taking a minute to light up cigarettes or get their grounding in whatever ways they needed to do. Talking, being alone.

Tonight’s fight still wasn’t done.

On impulse, I looked back at Damsel.

It didn’t look like she was getting her bearings. She was alone, but she wasn’t finding or gathering up a strength in it.

We passed through the bulk of the Wardens, and I kept an eye on Sveta’s tendrils. Mostly, she seemed to have settled, though her body barely held a human shape. There was no lashing out. Her focus, at least for the moment, was on taking care of us.

“Good showing, Precipice, Breakthrough,” Golem said.

“Thanks,” Rain said.

I wished it was better. I wished I had confidence for this next phase, or that Fortuna would beat the Simurgh. Hopefully some combination of Legend, Dauntless, and Fume Hood working with Fortuna would stall her or scare her off.

Byron sat on a stone hand with Vista, his helmet off, his hair plastered to his head.

“Coming?” Rain asked.

Byron shook his head. “A mite too tired. Worn out. Can you get on without me?”

“Absolutely,” I said. I looked at Vista. “Look after each other, okay?”

Vista nodded, her hands resting on Byron’s helmet, which sat in her lap.

Out through the doors, down the stairs. One floor down, to the labs. To Chris and medical care, which I was all too happy to get. I wondered if they had a means of giving quick blood transfusions, because I was pretty sure my lightheadedness was due to a lack of the precious red stuff.

The door slid open. Cryptid, leaning over the workshop bench, strewn with beakers, flasks, and haphazard machines, turned to look at us. He was half-rat.

A syringe clicked, and plunged into his neck.

“Do we have an audience?” I heard Riley’s voice, cheery. “Show them, show them.”

Chris—Cryptid stared at us.

“Show them!”

His posture, defensive. A glare on his face.

“We’ve been working on all this time, I walked him through it. I do think it’s a particular bit of genius, even if we’re cutting it close,” Riley announced.

The bad feeling in my gut solidified into something ugly.

“Where is it, Cryptid?” I asked.

“Didn’t make it,” he told us.

Last 20.8

Chris, Cryptid, Lab Rat, stood opposite the three of us, slouched forward, guarded, the glare on his monstrous, rat-like face a constant. With the lights partially off, likely because of damage to the facility, he was mostly lit from behind.