They exploded into a crackle of energy, intense enough that he could feel a trace of the effect himself.

The bird-thing didn’t seem to care. It shoved itself out through the window, past window-frame and glass. It landed outside, as the group rushed to the window.

Snag could have jumped out, but broken windows were dangerous. He was reminded of the shopping center, of the corridor, with the skylight above, and the window he’d wanted the girl to crawl through.

It wasn’t like the movies. Even with his outfit, it was dangerous, and it looked like that thing was pretty fast.

What was it doing here? Did its presence mean the others were here too?

A growl escaped his lips as he turned toward Nursery. Foil was already checking her and the other two.

“Alive. Burned. I don’t think that kid did it,” Foil said.

“Kid?” Snag asked.

“Tats said it’s a kid,” Imp said.

“Based on what?”

“Based on Tattletale,” Bitch said. “We should hurry, clear the rest of the area. Do you want to bring them?”

“These two are allies,” Snag pointed. “He isn’t.”

“I’ll restrain him,” Foil said. “Can you grab them, carefully?”

Snag picked up Nursery, easing her around until she was over his shoulder. He headed to the stairs.

He felt nothing. No compassion. Nothing of the him he’d once been, that had cared for his brother. In a way, it was easier. Even on his worst, most frustrating days, it was easier to put the feelings away. Dealing with people seemed easier when he could choose if he cared about them, and he only needed to care about a few.

In another way, he hated it. He hated what it represented. That he had once had a tie to his brother, and he’d lost that family connection when, as he communicated with his brother on the phone over hours, the line had suddenly gone dead. It had been by word of mouth, days later, that he’d heard New York had been hit. Struck by a sweep of golden light.

He’d tried to forge something in the shop, and the shop had gone up in flames.

And the ashes, the memories, they had been stomped on, repeatedly, night after night, mixed with the memories of others, drowned out by a select set of events that were replayed ad nauseum.

He switched to communication. “Love Lost. Cradle. The heroes that have been plaguing Hollow Point might be here. Be aware.”

He adjusted his grip on Nursery.

“Hey Foil,” Imp said. “Parian. You’re going to love this tidbit of news from our operations leader.”

“Oh no,” Foil said. “Me specifically?”

“You have three guesses.”

“Old teammates of mine.”

“Okay, yes. Vista and Weld showed up. But that’s not it. This is a lot more fun than that.”

Imp sounded more sarcastic than her usual as she said it.

“March.”