Newter’s tailed swished through the air with a whistle of displaced air as he eyed the PRT building. One of the few buildings in the city that still had power—the only building with seemingly full power—it was an ominous sight. He could almost imagine Faultline talking them through the pre-operation plan.

“If they are running at full capacity even now, when the rest of New York is a sea of black speckled with the occasional spots of light, then that’s a sign they are prepared for anything.”

He shoved the thought aside until his chest stopped feeling so tight. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that right now. Not when they might need to break into this place.

“Miss Meteor is there.”

Scratch that. They would be breaking in. Newter turned to Mischief, not quite able to hide his grimace at the news. “Where?”

“Northeast corner. Mischief will meet you there?”

“Sounds good.”

Newter rose from his crouch and shot off into the darkness, deftly leaping from building to building to circle around to the location Mischief had indicated while taking care to keep away from the roofs in direct line of sight. Effortless wasn’t quite the right word to describe his progress, but his movements were languid and easy as he leapt over the gaping expanses over ruined streets. Before long he diverted to move closer where he found Mischief waiting. Upon his arrival, the Changer pointed down towards one side of the octagonal PRT building.

“Miss Meteor is underground, three floors down and a bit in.” He— Shit, they scratched their nose in thought. Newter silently berated himself for the slip-up so soon after his new teammate’s explanation of their situation. It had been in the privacy of his own thoughts, at least, but he needed to do better. “Mischief doesn’t understand. Didn’t Miss Meteor pick up a whole buildin’?”

“Mmhmm.” Newter took the risk of stepping over the edge of the roof, flexing his foot to stick it against the side of the building, and leaning out to get a better view as he examined the distance with a thoughtful squint. No roads approached the PRT building. It was surrounded by a plaza that distanced itself from the surrounding structures like a concrete moat. The only ways in he could see were the public, walk-in entrance and a private ramp down into an underground garage that completely sealed when their vans weren’t coming or going. Newter vaguely remembered rumors that Legend came and went through an opening directly into his office on the upper floors, but if there were any truth to them, then it was well concealed from a distance.

“The presence of a garage, the use of it by PRT vans, and June’s location underground are suggestive. The barracks are likely located between the holding area and the garage to allow for rapid deployment into the city while maintaining proximity to prisoners in the event of attempted breakout.”

“Newter?”

“… sorry.” He pressed his tail into the roof and used it to leverage himself back up from his precarious perch. “We’re good with the distance. Just gotta set up right ’s all.”

He twisted on his heel as if to depart back the way they had come from. They had done what they needed to. Staying longer risked being spotted—necessary before, but not so now. Still. He knew it was stupid, but, well, he always had been one to take dumb risks when the mood struck. He’d run more than his share of laps for it in the past.

Thinking about the running—or rather, who had made him run—was enough for him to push through his unease and put voice to his thoughts. “Mischief, if…” Ugh. This was going to be the most thinly veiled hypothetical in the history of hypotheticals. He liked talking and trading stories, but this sort of conversation had never been his forte. “If Tint were alive, and you needed to rescue him…”

“Mischief would def’nitely rescue him!”

The urge to palm his face was nearly unbearable. This was almost certainly a pointless endeavor. Mischief had been nothing but chipper, even in the middle of the Endbringer battle. The only hint of anything deeper had been their breakdown that first morning after the attack. But who else could he ask? Emily was right out. He was in hot water with her. This was why he was in hot water with her. Gregor would understand, would give him a serious and well thought out answer too, but Newter knew that even a hint of doubt would put a hole in the big guy’s sail, and that was the last thing he needed right now. He wouldn’t dare speak to Elle about this. Heavensword either, for that matter, not that he had any interest in conversing with that psychobitch.

So it was Mischief, a rando off the street, or no one. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound… “Sure, but, like, what if he second triggered or something and became dangerous. Would… would you still do it?”

“That’s okay, ‘cause Tint would never harm Mischief!”

“Okay, sure, Tint wouldn’t hurt you before, but again, he’s dangerous now. He hurts you on accident or maybe even on purpose because he’s… different now.”

Mischief scratched their nose. “This’s a tough question. An accident is okay—Tint would always try really, really hard ta do better next time. On purpose… Mischief is not sure that’s Tint anymore.”

Newter knew June once, but after Panacea… He’d seen the signs—how could he not? Obviously the bi girl realized what she should have known from the start: Nobody could get close to him.

He should have said something. You should have said something.

“What keeps our crew together?”

He owed it to the June he once knew to find out who she was now.

Sorry, Emily. “Let’s head back before someone spots us.”