Further ahead, I could see what Capricorn had done while he was waiting around. A wall of his stone barred the street. There were gaps wide enough for people to pass through. Three gaps, and the group was more than three people. Some members of the group turned around, ready to help and run interference while others slipped through the doors in single-file.

At the side window, Etna climbed out, reaching, and hurled globs of molten glass.

I intercepted the first, forcefield going up at the last second as I swatted it aside, aiming it in Moose’s general direction.

“Incoming!” I called out, because I couldn’t intercept the second.

The group looked back and saw the incoming white-hot orb. People moved out of the way. Looksee didn’t. The glob hit her across the head, which struck the wall behind her hard.

The camera with the projection device mounted on it clattered on its way to hit the road, the final landing muted as it landed glass-side down.

“Aauuughhh!” Looksee cried out, in a not-very-convincing agonized scream. “I’m dying, I’m dead! Auughh!”

“Looksee,” I heard Rain say.

Moose came to a halt, standing by the southeastern corner of a small apartment building, while we stood at the northeastern corner. The truck skidded to a stop. People had stopped in their tracks. Some eyes were on Etna.

“Mayday, I loved you, you were awesome. Signal Fire, you were a great teacher. Team, you’re the best, I love you with all my heart! Remember me, avenge me!”

“Looksee, they know it’s a projection,” Rain said.

“Shit on me, did not want this today,” Mayday said.

It didn’t seem like Looksee had heard, from her tone.

“I know, duh,” the camera said, the ‘oh’ sound at the end of the word stuttering slightly. She laughed, enthusiastic. “I’m just having fun.”

The villains were still back there. They were unloading from the truck. Some expressions were sober, others were dangerous.

“You’re willing to go this far?” I called out. “Shooting a kid?”

“I thought you’d catch it,” Etna said, her voice small both because she was far away, and because of disappointment in herself, it seemed. She was more Prancer’s camp, if I remembered right, despite the dangerous power that might otherwise have put her in Beast’s.

“If she’d been real,” I said. “This would have been a fuck-up of the highest order.”

“If she’d been real,” Beast of Burden said, making the truck bounce as he climbed out of the back, “she still would have been causing trouble on our turf. It wouldn’t have been undeserved.”

“No,” Prancer said.

“Yes,” Beast of Burden said.

“No,” Prancer said. “That’s not how we’re playing this.”