She began shooting, as their amassed team went after more of the afflicted. Carol, who was so insistent on doing things by the books, stuck to a play Crystal had seen on her first night in costume, a sprint that threatened to spend all of her energy, moving not in a straight line, but a gentle bow-shaped curve.

There was a familiarity there, with an emphasis on the ‘familia’. Crystal, Mark, and Crystal’s mom all knew that Aunt Carol would do that. If an enemy ever studied their playbook, they’d learn to anticipate it, but New Wave had always hit hard enough that there weren’t many enemies they had to fight more than the once. When and if they did fight such an enemy, they changed it up.

Carol sought her glory in this moment. She sought the easy coordination with Mark, the backup that Mom provided up in the air, the firepower and extra forcefields from Crystal herself. In this moment, Aunt Carol seemed unambiguously happy. Unambiguously herself.

At the same time, Mark measured out his blasts, thinking about things every step of the way. While his wife lunged in, he sought defense, kept an eye on escape routes.

Crystal’s mom, at the same time, was enigmatic, her expression unreadable, even as the way she fought was so normal.

Flummox was injured, and Aunt Carol was stepping up the leadership duties for Erring Right in his place. It was obvious to all that Aunt Carol was looking to take over, the other leadership contenders weren’t equipped to challenge her for the title. Crystal had little doubt that her Aunt Carol would accept the splintering of the group as she assumed control, or that she had a plan and an approach in mind for how to handle each person that stayed… and she would already know who would stay and who would leave.

With her family at her back, Aunt Carol sought to transform this ragtag team into something with more impact. She knew Crystal was thinking of leaving, had asked for a bit more time, which was more evidence that she had this all planned out.

Except she didn’t have her family at her back. Crystal would stay long enough for Aunt Carol to get established as the presumptive leader. Aunt Carol could get settled from there.

But my mom?

Crystal watched her mother fight, timing her lasers around Crystal’s own barrage, to fill in gaps or be more surgical. Crystal met her mother’s eyes, and saw the purple irises, the black ‘whites’.

Uncle Mark?

Uncle Mark hurled his grenades. He’d fought for over a decade alongside Aunt Carol. They knew one another’s tempo. Aunt Carol knew when a glowing orb was coming her way and Uncle Mark knew when she’d be leaving an area, when that towering blob of two fused-together civilians would be turning away. He was already throwing, the blast knocking the towering thing over.