Lyssa did what came naturally; she looked at what everyone else did. This was not the time to be a hero. The smoke was real. The fire was real. Those voices crying out in the distance were real. The script fell away, and the students looked afraid, like normal kids who only just became adults.

“We should go check it out,” Penny said.

“We’re not trained,” Carrie said. “We don’t know triage. We don’t know damage control. And there are licensed heroes in this city.”

“We should go observe, at least,” Amelia said. “And provide support if necessary.”

“Genuine question, how could you help a licensed hero?” Carrie asked.

“I did superstrength muay thai and aerial akido as a part of the gifted curriculum.” Amelia smiled. “I have not visited those muscle memories since I began high school but…”

“Everyone!” A shout. Heads turned. Colossi had stepped out of the signing tent. “We will be there on stand by and await orders for assistance from law enforcement, if they find it appropriate to include us. What we cannot do is quail like this. Let’s move and stick to the sidewalks so we don’t impede emergency response vehicles.”

The clamor quieted. The students gathered, following in Colossi’s general direction. They did so with much more acquiescence than the civilians. Over a thousand men and women—many larger around the waist than the students—nearly tripped over each other to get to the main streets. Soft drink spilled as people dropped them in a panic, leaving foamy patches of earth and crumpled paper on the ground. The people vacated in a clumsy horde, like an exotic slug that leaves behind a mucus trail of plastic and garbage.

As her friends followed Colossi, Lyssa lingered. She called on Izanami, the metallokinetic, and lifted a spent soda can off the grass and into her hand. She deposited it in a recycling bin. Wicham’s hand fell against her back.

“You ought to go,” he said. “My crew and I will get this mess cleaned up. It’s not a good look for us if this is the aftermath of one of our events.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Don’t need gifts to pick up trash.” He turned to his own team of people—camera technicians, interns, assistants—and waved them forward; men and women with name tags and dress shirts and dark pants. Invisible among the color and tights of heroes. They begrudgingly came forward to begin the cleanup process.

Lyssa said nothing and went down the street. She walked against the current of the citizens. As people evacuated, she moved forward. Every step took her closer to her peers, and closer to the dust and smoke. Doors slammed shut and engines fired. Tires screeched as cars performed hasty U-turns. Metal crumpled. Fenders dislodged. Two men stuck their heads out of their windows to scream at each other. Lyssa quickly ran past the argument. It was getting hard to see. There was too much noise, too much dust. Particulates swirled in the air as a helicopter with a stylized ‘55’ on its side beat the air with its rotors overhead. A flash of light. Fire spewed from its engine. The rotors stalled. It spun and fell, crashing loudly on a rooftop. Lyssa ducked away from the rain of debris. A child in front of her cried out for mother. She kept walking. Past the noise into more noise. A constant beating accompanied her. She looked up into the air but saw no second helicopter. It took her a moment to realize it was her own heartbeat. She took quicker but shallower breaths. It made her feel faint. And her nostrils and lungs were burning from the smoke. She couldn’t see anything through the dirty air. There were tears in her eyes. But she had caught up with her peers.

They were the ones standing there in FASE suits covered in a layer of grey soot, motionless as they watched a city block be overtaken by fire. Lyssa almost asked what was happening, but she went through the same street they did, and she scarcely had a clue. But she could surmise that it was related to the people in masks by the entrance of Newtown Bank. There were dozens in front of the steps. Most were just standing there, as motionless as the students. Except they decidedly did not belong. A few more masked men paced briskly behind them. It was hard to tell them apart. Lyssa realized that may have been the point.

“One step, coppers!” Someone shouted from behind the masked civilians. “I fucking dare you!”

The perimeter of policemen stood their ground, but did not advance.

“This is more unsafe than the game. We should leave.”

“Let me blast them. I can take out all of them at once.”

“My armor is bulletproof! I’ll incinerate them-”

Lyssa shut them out. She found her friends and slowly crept up to them.

“I can’t believe we’re getting to see an actual bank robbery,” Penny whispered. “Criminals usually don’t dare anymore.”

“Look.” Carrie pointed.

Above the smoke, a man in a diving suit hovered a distance away from the bank; Everest, the ice hero. Another flew in circles much higher above; Ace Pilot, the man with jet wings. No doubt more hid behind the scenes, preparing for a change in the situation. An opening. But as they waited, fire continued to burn inside the bank, showing no signs of being spent.

“Something is extraordinary here,” Amelia commented.

“The game is over, right?” Lyssa asked.

“Of course, why?”

“What are those doing here?”

“I do not know.”

Tiny drones formed a halo around the city block, flying slightly above rooftops. If people noticed them, they clearly did not think much of it.

“Why aren’t they doing anything?” Penny wondered out loud.

“It is very strange they would attempt something so ostentatious so close to a superhero school,” Amelia said. “They are either incredibly stupid, or well-prepared.”

The few movies Lyssa had seen never covered this part. The idling, the nothing-doing. Because no gift was as powerful as information. Except for the gift that could acquire it.

She reached inward and searched the halls of her mind.

“Where are you, Bil?” She thought.

Deeper she went, until she lost sight of the real world and all she saw were corridors and doors. Hopefully no one noticed her half-closed eyes and vacated expression.

“Everyone! Help me find her.”

But they did not acquiesce. Why should they care where a Self went? The less the better.

“You seem to have forgotten each of us think we know what’s best for our life. My life.” Mercurial’s reply echoed.

So Lyssa searched alone, and came up empty handed. Only one place was left unchecked. She eyed a particular hallway. The one where a lift waited at the end, tantalizing and frightening. The doors rattled open as she approached. She entered and found three buttons this time. She pressed the middle one. The doors slid shut and it all grew dark.

Time passed. Either a millisecond or an hour. The doors opened into a cave. It has been weeks since she last stepped foot here. This time she strode across the hot water and through the steam, straight to the Self that sat at the shrine at the end.

“Where is my telepath?” Lyssa asked.

“My telepath?” The Self scoffed. “A fine hello to you too.”

“What are you? When did you happen?”

The Self raised a hand. Spring blossom colored energy coalesced. She was preparing to send Lyssa away again.

“No,” Lyssa said. “I am my own master! At least answer me.”

The Self lowered her hand.

“I think you know where Bildungsroman is,” she said. “Intuitively.”

“What are you?”

“Let’s say your deterrent for now. You should hope to not need me.”

“But-”

“Goodbye.”

Pink force enveloped her, warbling and stretching Lyssa’s vision. One instant later her back felt the wall of the elevator. The doors rattled shut. Lyssa picked herself up, frustrated. But not scared like she was the first time she was here. She jabbed the third button. The elevator lowered and the doors opened into a circular chamber of fine stone.

There she was, in dark, twisted drapes that sprawled a ways on the floor, sitting with her head slightly cocked. Lyssa walked up behind her and placed her hand on the Self’s shoulder.

“I need you,” she said.

Bildungsroman slumped, her face turning to meet Lyssa like a tilted puppet. Lyssa recoiled from the pair of dark hollows that stared back.

“Hello, Lyssa.”

“Wh-what have you been doing?”

“Thinking. Improving. Practicing.”

Lyssa grasped herself tightly. Her mind raced.

“On who?” She asked, fearing the answer.

“No one that will get us into trouble.” She stood, wiry and skeletal. Her eyes like chasms. “You are not the only one who can split. I made my own splinter, used her, and then I ate her. I was having trouble digesting. We are ever so stubborn.”

“I… didn’t know you could do that.”

“What do you need help with?”

She was behind Lyssa, settling a thin hand on Lyssa’s shoulder. It was cold and heavy. The Self had become different. Stronger, yet calmer, no longer tumultuous and unreserved with her resentment.

“I think I’ll figure it out,” Lyssa said.

“I insist.”

Lyssa walked back to the elevator with her close behind. She did not dare to regret coming down here, in case the Self could read that too.