The projector came on. The two missing members of our group appeared. Ashley was projected, her lower body a static black dress. She’d be sitting on a bus right now, a laptop beside her, to capture her face and anything she said.

And Rain. For the moment, he was intact, but frozen in place.

“Ah,” Tattletale said. “Your Fallen teammate.”

“It’s up to him whether we give you Cradle or not,” I said. “But we’re leaning toward not, just so you know.”

“Of course. Standard negotiation.”

Looksee hit the camera again.

Rain animated, the image glitching in the moment before it caught up. Now he appeared like he was in the plaza with us, the occasional scan line or glitch marking him for the projected image he was.

Looksee’s camera had captured the images of the wounds. The slashes, the cuts and cleaves, and the parts where skin peeled away. It simulated the blood.

She’d even captured the background sound. The ragged, rough breathing, like each inhalation and exhalation was an effort.

“I don’t need to ask you why you helped both Cradle and us,” I said. “I think I get it.”

“Do you now?” Tattletale asked. Her attention was on Rain’s spectre. Damsel’s spectre moved around the group, standing beside Looksee.

“I get it because you want the same thing I want. You were managing the battle and hoping and praying that people would see the light and play nice. You want the old rules and the old ‘game’, and you’re apparently not that stellar when it comes to reading multi-triggers like my teammate, Cradle, or March. You underestimated the bloodlust and you overestimated how much my teammate deserved it. He got the cleaver, and you felt so darn awful about it, you volunteered help.”

“Oh my god, Tattletale,” Parian said.

“There’s a good bit more to it,” Tattletale said, before turning to tell Parian, “so don’t buy too heavily into the theatrics. We’re capes. We should be used to this.”

“If you want to deal with people like Cradle, you should at least look at the consequences,” Sveta said.

“I’m aware of the consequences. I’m aware of a ton of stuff. The reality is, Garotte, there’s bigger picture stuff. There’re a half-dozen people who are only seeing one or two dimensions of the greater structure and we’re each trying to keep it from toppling without being able to talk to the others. I’m trying to hold up my end and simultaneously open the channels of communication. Kind of important.”

So she said, but she didn’t like looking at Rain as she said it.

I could work with that. Maybe I wouldn’t take point on this after all. I felt a grim kind of satisfaction.

“Great,” I said. “Elaborate. But don’t tell me. Tell him.”

“Please. Let’s talk,” the bloodied image of Rain said.

Pitch 6.8