Hospitals are loud; filled with pervasive, bludgeoning noises and alerts when you desperately just want quiet. That was the main thing I was aware of as I sat sequestered in a dark room on the fifth or sixth floor. After Kay… after everything that had happened in the lobby, a nurse — no, not a nurse. A liaison; Martie, I think. Martie had guided me from the lobby as doctors rushed past, towards… them. She ushered me into the elevator and up here. A safe room, she’d said. Private, isolated, secure. Good for people who needed their identity to stay quiet.

Gritting my teeth, I fought against the invasive doubts peppering my mind. If there was one thing the constant announcements, beeping machines, and squeaking wheels beyond the door was good for, it was preventing the anger, pain, and anguish swirling behind my eyes from swallowing me whole.

The room was sparse; within its small area, it contained a small table, a few chairs, a water cooler with a jug balanced atop its rectangular body, and tissues. Frowning, I turned over the box. I’d long since emptied it anyways.

They’d given me a t-shirt to wear and a plastic bag for my blood-soaked coat and top. Coagulated blood remained speckled on my arms and neck; though it irritated my skin, I couldn’t find it in me to scrape it off. It was… it was them.

Martie poked her head in the doorway and tapped at the door.

“Mind if I come in, sweetie?” she asked in a soft, gentle voice. It felt practiced, rehearsed. If they had a room specifically for people like me, it probably was. Not feeling up to talking, I shook my head. Taking my cue, she gingerly entered the room and took a seat opposite to me. She wasn’t dressed in scrubs; instead, she wore a sleeveless plum-colored top that accentuated her dark skin and black slacks with a pair of sneakers. She must’ve done a lot of walking.

She lowered her clipboard on the table, giving me a sad, stern look. “I wanted to give you some updates, hun. I called the number you gave me and reached your mom; she should be here shortly. About your friend. You said her name was Kayden?”

I closed my eyes and braced my hand against the table. “They/them,” I replied, my voice small and weak. 

She blinked but took it in stride. “Right. You mentioned their legal name was Caitlyn Blois. Is that correct?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” She picked the clipboard back up and reviewed its contents. “First, I’m so sorry for your loss, Gabrielle. This was… a particularly devastating incident you both were involved in. Even though I’ve already said it, I wanted to make sure you heard it again. I attempted to reach out to their family, but um…” She hesitated, seeming unsure how to proceed. “I didn’t have much success. Do you know if they were on good terms with their parents?”

The urge to laugh momentarily echoed through my lungs. Kayden lived in a scrapyard. They never mentioned their parents except in the briefest of passing. When Mom made us dinner, they scarfed all of their food down nearly as fast as I did. Almost as if they didn’t know when their next meal was coming. No, they weren’t on good terms with their parents. And I’d never dug deeper, never tried to help them. Now I never could.

I shook my head. “No.”

Martie slowly nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m going to draw up some paperwork for this. Do you know of any of Kayden’s next of kin, by chance?”

I shook my head again.

Even though she did her best to conceal her desperate frustration with the circumstances, I could still pick up on it as she scribbled on her clipboard. “Luckily, Del Norte County does have provisions for this sort of situation. If nobody will claim ownership of the body, a funeral can be arranged for Kayden.”

I broke my hazy stare from the overturned tissue box. “Would… would it be a good funeral?”

Taking a moment to silently swallow, she continued, “It would be a funeral. A simple, no-frills funeral, but one nonetheless. A casket, a plaque, and a priest to give final rites. It’s, well, it’s the best we can do given the circumstances.” She adopted a sad, knowing look. “Friends can also take ownership of the body if family isn’t available, but planning a funeral is very expensive.”

“How much?” I asked.

“Several thousand dollars, at least.” 

Several thousand bucks? Mom had just lost her job and was barely paying the mortgage. There was no way I could ask her to cover that, nor could I do so myself. It was my idiotic ideas that got Kayden killed, and now I couldn’t even give them the respect of a regular funeral. Why was I so fucking reckless? Why — why couldn’t I have just listened? My hands slowly balled into fists as I fought against yet another wave of tears.

Reading my expression, she laid her hand over top of mine. “Nothing is set in stone, but it might be in your best interest to let the county cover this one. I promise county funerals are still funerals.”

Feeling more defeated than ever, I regretfully nodded. “Okay.” 

She stood from her seat and pushed it in. “I’ll get to work on this. Once everything is drawn up, I’ll give you and your mom a call, okay? We can make a final decision on all of this then.” She walked toward the doorway before hesitating at the threshold. She glanced back at me quietly. “Gabrielle… how old did you say you were?”

“Seventeen,” I answered. She regarded me for a long moment, her frown growing deeper. She clenched her jaw before releasing an elongated sigh.

“Just checking.” She turned to leave before stepping aside. “Oh, pardon. Are you —”

“Delilah McArthur, yes,” came a hurried voice outside.

Mom. I withdrew from the table and settled my hands in my lap. Even though I knew I should be, I couldn’t find it in me to feel fear. I was just… so tired. Mom stormed into the room with more purpose and determination than I’d ever seen in her. She rushed over and crouched to my level, not bothering with a chair.

Sparing a moment to look me over, she wasted no further time concealing her fury. “Gabrielle McArthur! What on god’s green earth were you fucking thinking?” she hissed. “I knew you were lying about the tower — I could feel it! I heard on the radio on the way over here that Hexecute and other alters were spotted at Pelican Bay, just before whatever-fucking-thing is happening now. They’re saying at least a couple dozen prisoners escaped the facility — “

“Mom,” I tried to interject, but she wasn’t having it.

“No, no,” she held her index finger up. “I’m. Not. Done. Do you know how childish and irresponsible this was? You are not one of the superheroes on television, or in books, or songs. You’re just a kid! You should not be going after some super-powered criminal. I taught you to tell an adult when something was wrong; instead, you take it upon yourself to make the situation worse by chasing after the very same person who you know is after you. Why? Why can’t you just —” She stood up and rubbed her fingers along the bridge of her nose. “Why can’t you once — just think before you act, Gabrielle?”

A new wave of nausea and guilt overtook me as I grappled with the realization that everything that had brought me here — keeping my powers and glitching a secret, caping with Kayden, lying to Mom and everyone else — she was right. Nobody else was to blame except me. I averted my eyes downward as tears began to spill forth anew. Mom’s expression grew more bewildered as she stared at me.

“Gabrielle?” she said, her voice low and cautious. She leaned over and ran her finger over one of the specks of blood on my arm. “Is this…?” Her posture became rigid. “Where’s Kayden?”

The dribbling of tears falling down my cheeks broke into full-fledged sobs at the mention of their name.

She brought her hand to her mouth in horror. “Oh my god, Gabby, I —”  She threw her arms around me and pulled me close. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t — I didn’t know. They didn’t tell me this on the phone. Are they hurt? Are they with the doctors?”

I shook my head, letting out another muffled cry.

 “Oh, god.” She pulled my head against her shoulder, cradling it carefully. “I’m sorry, Gabby. I’m so, so sorry.”

Unable to even attempt to restrain the torrent of tears flowing from me, I let them soak into the cool fabric of Mom’s jacket. I wrapped my arms around her weakly, clinging to her as the only rock in the turbulent, tossing sea of guilt and loss threw me around like a piece of debris.

I don’t know when Mrs. Bittinboulder and Mr. Garrison showed up, but once I separated from Mom’s embrace I found them lingering just inside the entrance of the room. Mrs. Bittinboulder was nothing but empathetic frowns and gleaming eyes dressed in a loose-fitting tracksuit. Mr. Garrison appeared to be a mess of nerves; shifting his stance and adjusting the place of his hands every couple of seconds. It was the first time I’d ever seen him dressed in anything that could even loosely be considered casual, his attire consisting of just his slacks and a tie-less buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a baseball cap with the phrase ‘Fly Fishin’ stitched onto it. Mom stood up and charged towards him before leaning in close to his face.

I couldn’t make out exactly what she whispered to him over the residual weeping still escaping from my lips, but I could guess based on the words I did hear involving ‘name’, ‘pronouns’, and ‘unemployment line.’ What little color remained on his face quickly drained as he nodded weakly.

“We’re uh — we’re here to get a report of the situation, Ms. McArthur,” he clarified. “Most hospitals these days have a contact from the alter community for sensitivity and paperwork. It’s a requirement in these, uh...” He nervously pulled at the collar of his shirt before Bittinboulder continued.

“When these kinds of things involve one of our students, we need to get a police report and a hospitalization report, among a few other things.”

Mom gave her an appalled look. “You want my daughter to go on police record? Are you kidding me? At least with the trainyard, the licensed capes and your administration took the majority of the heat, but Starburst and Verdant are gone. A terrorist blew up a building downtown before disappearing into the wind, and now dozens of prisoners are wreaking havoc and keeping the majority of the city’s police on overtime. I’m not stupid, I know your bosses are getting nervous about their government grants. I know the police captain is getting flack for not having anybody in jail over this. If they know Gabrielle was involved with the prison they’ll call the DMO so fast —”

“Ms. McArthur, please, please,” Mrs. Bittinboulder attempted to calm Mom down. “I’m not talking about Gabrielle. Her involvement will be kept confidential as much as possible. The liaison here is an old friend who owes me one. As far as she’s concerned, an unknown alter dropped Kayden off. No, the person I’m talking about is Kayden.”

Mom turned her head to the side as I withdrew into my chair. “Why would you be talking about Kay—” Mom turned back towards me, catching my pained expression; “them?”

“Because she was a student of the academy a few years ago,” Mr. Garrison grumbled. “I have a lot of things I could say regarding her character or lack thereof, but that is neither here nor there —”

“Them!” I screamed, frightening even myself at the abrupt nature of my outburst. “They/them! It’s not fucking hard!”

The trio seemed taken back by my words. Mom recovered quickly and took it in stride, pointing at Garrison harshly. “You. Stop talking. And you --” She looked to Mrs. Bittinboulder. “Please continue where he left off.”

“Right.” Mrs. Bittinboulder nodded, looking anxious under Mr. Garrison’s glare. “As you know, even though it’s very strongly recommended, alters are not technically required to attend the academy. Kayden was a student of ours for a year and a half before they dropped out due to…” She cast a wayward glance in Mr. Garrison’s direction. “...a combination of administrative and parental difficulties. I was never too sure what happened, but after I heard of a shapeshifting alter out there under the supernym ‘Shyft’, I was glad to hear that things were at least partially okay.”

I gritted my teeth. Things weren’t okay for Kayden. They were hanging on by a fucking thread and had nobody to turn to except Mel and whatever other vigilante friends they’d made. By pure chance, they met me. And then they ended up dead.

“Listen, can we please speed this up?” Mr. Garrison coarsely interrupted her. “Even though we’re keeping McArthur’s involvement quiet, the board is going to want to know if we’re accountable for this.” As both of my hands involuntarily clenched into shaking fists, I could feel what little control I had left slipping. With as fast as I could run, if I wanted to, I could teach him a lesson that he’d never see coming. Darkness flickered at the edges of my vision centered on him. If I wanted to….

“Alright, alright,” Mrs. Bittinboulder groaned. She and Mom took a seat at the table, Bittinboulder adjacent to me and Mom close at my side, lending a comforting hand to my shoulder. Bittinboulder pulled a notepad and pen from her purse, clicking the latter, and looked to me expectantly. “Alright, Gabby. I’m going to need to know all of this unfolded, which means I’m going to need to ask you some hard questions. Are you okay with that?”

Forcing myself to inhale deeply, the anger clouding my vision evaporated and exited with each subsequent breath.

“Hit me.”

 

* * *

 

I only ended up making it about half of the way through my admittedly sordid recount of events, touching on my motivation for going to the prison and some of the events that had unfolded there before Martie appeared in the doorway looking especially distressed.

“The DMO is in the lobby.” 

Mrs. Bittinboulder quickly stuffed her notepad and pen into her purse. “Time to go, Gabrielle.”

Mom grabbed ahold of my hand and helped me to my feet. Taking a moment to think, she decided to slip her coat off and up my arms. “There we go. Just looks like you’re wearing your boyfriend’s coat.”

“What’s the big deal?” I asked tiredly. “I thought you said Martie was keeping my name out of all of this?”

“She is,” Bittinboulder responded as we stepped out into the hallway. “But that’s only if you’re not here when they come looking.”

Even Mr. Garrison looked especially fidgety, though that was probably because he was worried he was about to be fired. Hastily, he pulled his cap off and stuck it on me.

“There. It’ll hide her damn-near neon hair for the time being,” he gruffly cautioned. At their urging, we worked our way through the hallways of the hospital with Martie deftly guiding our way.

Mom hurried her pace to catch up to Martie. “What about the stairwell?” she asked; “I bet we could slip out through one of those or one of the other exits.”

Martie shook her head. “They’ve got agents posted at most of the exits and checking where they aren’t would look too suspicious. The front lobby is really crowded right now with an influx of patients, they won’t even notice you two slipping out.”

The awkwardly quiet elevator ride served only to incubate several thoughts in my mind. Was the DMO going to arrest me for being at the prison when Hexecute let the prisoners out? Were they going to lock me up in Cape Pole with the rest of the alters they’d arrested? 

I drew Mom’s coat tightly over my chest as the elevator doors parted, revealing a lobby crowded with people. Mrs. Bittinboulder and Mr. Garrison separated from us and stepped into the crowd as Mom and I tried to work our way around it.

“Should I be worried?” I asked Mom.

“Nah,” she smiled down at me. “We’ll be good. Just keep holding my hand, alright?”

“Okay,” I replied, gripping her hand a bit harder in return. As I scanned the crowd, a thought popped into my head that, somehow, I’d never considered. I had no idea what a DMO agent looked like. Somehow it never had occurred to me to ask Kayden, despite their wealth of knowledge.

Ah. Shit. New tears began to pool up at the edges of my eyes. It took everything I had left to keep them from spilling over.

Bobbing through the much larger crowd, I picked up a few snippets of conversations from the people surrounding us. It sounded like there had been a large accident on I-101 and people were being rushed to the surrounding hospitals, including Sutter Coast.

Welp. Tears were inevitable, I suppose. They were falling down my cheeks again as newfound guilt wracked against my heart. What kinds of problems hadn’t I caused?

I was so wrapped up in my pity-party that I failed to notice when a sleek-suited man stepped in my path, causing me to bump into him. I glanced up at all six foot plus him with my wettened eyes. His sandy-brown hair was cropped short and he lacked any kind of facial hair. His eyes took on an empathetic appearance as he apologized.

“Oh! Sorry there, little lady. Pardon me,” he moved to the side, letting me pass towards the exit and revealing a familiar face in the process. Mr. Garrison, standing on the opposite side of the man, recoiled almost imperceptibly as he caught sight of me, but managed to reel it in once the man turned back to him.

“As I was saying, Agent Woodard,” Mr. Garrison said in a focused, low tone, “I only got here a bit ago to check things out for the academy. I haven’t seen any of our students here.”

My lips parted in surprise. This FBI-looking guy was a DMO agent? I always figured they’d look closer to a heavily armored battalion soldier or something.

Agent Woodard nodded as Mom pulled my arm tightly, leading me out the doors. “And you said the body belonged to a former student?” he replied, just as we left earshot vicinity.

Once buckled within the safety of the car, Mom started the engine and let loose a deep, exhausted sigh. “Promise me you’ll never get arrested by them.”

I slumped back in my seat, opting not to respond. Instead, I gazed out the window at the hospital as it grew further and further away. Kayden was still there. They still had a county funeral waiting for them, one nobody would care about. 

I was going to pay them back. That much, I swore.

 

* * *

 

Grass. White. Light. Smoke.

Images flickered before my eyes at the speed of light, each lingering for long enough to leave an outline in my memory before cycling to the next. Their smile. Those eyes. Red. Too much red. A final request.

A warm hand. 

A warmer heart.

The dream ended the same way it had in real life, with concussive explosions shattering the glass separating us from the rest of the world and leaving me alone, resting on the jagged pieces.

I’d woken up from this dream three times throughout the night; however, each time my eyes finally allowed me back into some semblance of slumber, the images would start again.

Grass. White. Light. Smoke.

Each time in sequence. Never letting up, and always the same. Except... No. The fourth time through the cycle, something was different. A yellow light, shining in the reflection of a piece of glass.

I approached it and inspected it. A face looked back at me, but not my own.

The electric being. Banging their fists relentlessly on the other side of the glass. Their expression desperate and weary, screams muffled and far away. That same wound from before undulating ominously behind them, bolts of lightning firing into the sky in every direction.

“Gabrielle — tear — kinetic realm — orrow — Hexecute!” 

Just as suddenly, I was back in the cold dark of my room, sweat soaking my sheets and pajamas. I pulled the blankets close. Alone again, and no comforting presence to fall back on.

Wringing my fingers through my hair, I let out another suppressed cry.

What was happening to me?

 

* * *

 

The car ride to school was quiet. Mom had turned the radio off after ten solid minutes of it discussing reports of inmates beginning to reach the suburban areas on the outliers of the city limits. Only half of the temporary capes searching for Mel had returned to help, and they were deployed to the county at large, assisting with inmate roundup. The overcast skies were quiet as we exited the highway, not a costume in sight.

Mom tried talking to me, but my lack of sleep and emotional fallout from the day before had left me almost lifeless, more shell than hot-headed speedster. Mom had tried insisting I stay home with her, but I’d gotten dressed and walked out the door to her car all the same. What was the point of staying home if it meant I would only have my mind on the one thing I needed space from?

“So, honey,” Mom began, eliciting a groan from me. Doing her best to ignore my attitude, she persisted. “I’ve been looking at some really cool houses over in Seattle lately, wouldn’t it be cool to live there? You’d be super close to the Space Needle and —” 

“Wait, what?” I spun around in my seat towards her. “You want to move?” 

“Well, I mean, I’m not quite sure yet, honey,” she backpedaled.

“I’m not leaving the city,” I snapped. I couldn’t, not when I’d promised Kayden I’d protect the people that lived here. I couldn’t break another promise.

“Why so passionate? You’ve never seemed so enthusiastic about living here before.”

“That’s not the point!” I yelled, feeling anger grow and inflate within my lungs.

We pulled into the school turn around, Mom put the car into park and looked at me with concern. “I was just floating an idea, I swear, Gabrielle. That’s no reason to—” 

I yanked my backpack from the floor and roughly opened the door, not bothering to wait for her explanation. “Oh, like you floated the fact that Dad reamed me out in front of our entire family to the school nurse? How about you keep your ideas to yourself for once!” Knowing I’d shatter the door if I slammed it like I wanted to, I instead stormed off towards the school doors.

“Wait, Gabrielle,” she shouted back, “what do you —” 

Not particularly concerned with the optics of outside power usage at the moment, I quickly zipped inside the building and away from Mom.

Sure, it was a headache that I’d have to deal with later, but later was better than now. Several other kids were staring at me as I continued into the school, probably from making a scene with my powers. The andrAI were leaving me alone, instead hovering silently just below the ceiling so as far as I was concerned, I was good. Keeping my head down, I continued into the school towards my locker. A few hushed whispers made their way to my alarmed ears, however.

“Pelican Bay…”

“Some vigilante I think.”

“Isn’t it against the rules to cape outside the school?”

That reservoir of anger Mr. Garrison had cracked open in the hospital yet again creaked open, enabling rage to bubble through me down to my core.

How did they know? Who told them? They didn’t — they didn’t get to know about Kayden! Not like this! They weren’t allowed to think that all they were was a faceless body in the morgue. Kayden was so much more.

I ripped my locker door open and pulled my books out while stuffing my backpack inside.

“Hey, McArthur!” I heard Kip’s voice shout from just behind me.

Not today. Not today. Shaking my head, I did my best to temper my anger and ignore him.

“Hey,” he dropped his hand onto my shoulder, “I wanted to —”

In that fraction of a second, I felt something deep within myself snap.

In a blur, I spun around and grabbed Kip by the fabric of his hoodie before slamming him against the locker next to mine with a loud THUD.

“What?! What do you fucking want from me?” I screamed, his face taking on a scared-shitless expression. Buckley and Vince took a few steps back but hesitated to come to his defense.

Small bolts of energy began to crackle over my jacket sleeves as I raised him off his feet. The bolt of energy was thrashing against my ribcage. It wanted me to do this. I wanted to do this.

“I — I only wanted —” he stammered in a near-incoherent babble.

“What? To mock me again? Hurt me?” I snarled at him. “Well, I’m tired of being hurt!”

“He wasn’t going to hurt you,” Vince piped up in a pleading tone.

“Y-yeah!” Kip exclaimed. “I heard about that prison s-shit. My ma was that guard you saved! I just wanted to say thank you, dude!” I pressed him harder against the lockers, causing him to wince. 

“Why should I believe you?”

“Look, I’m an asshole!” he choked out. “I’m a huge dick and a bully. But you get it now, right?” He glanced down at my fists currently balling his hoodie within their grasp. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Havin’ power over someone else?”

“Wh-what?” I responded in a jumbled stammer. “I don’t…” I nervously glanced around at the gathering crowd staring in our direction. They were whispering, staring at me and silently criticizing yet another mistake I’d made. And there, just behind the first row of them was Cass, looking me over with more worry than I’d ever seen.

Oh, god.

I released Kip’s hoodie from my hands, dropping him back to the ground in the process. “I— I…” I stumbled back. Not knowing what to do, I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I ran. Ran from my locker, ran down the maze of hallways and ran as far as I could. Except I wasn’t even able to do that right. A twitch here, a muscle spasm there, and suddenly ripping pain radiated through my body, knocking me to the ground before I knew it. My speed, while reduced, was still significant enough to cause me to slide for a couple of dozen feet before stopping. I clutched at my sides, writhing in agony. 

Spit pooled beneath my cheek on the cold marble floor as I gasped for air. Why was this happening to me?

“Gabrielle!” a woman’s voice cried out. I looked up to see the reflection of a large pair of glasses looking down at me.

“N-Nurse Prim?” I groaned between breaths of air.

She bent down and deftly wrapped her arm underneath my own. “Come on, let’s get you up. I need to take a look at whatever… “ She paused, evaluating the few remaining sparks running over my body. “Whatever this is.” She helped me to my feet and, with her hand underneath my right arm, guided me towards her office. The door was ajar, so thankfully she didn’t have to release me to let us in. She closed the door behind us quickly, wincing as she did.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, new shoes. Breaking in heels is torture.” Her office, still as much of a mess as it was the last time I was here, if not more, was relatively easy to navigate with her help. She guided me into the exam room, closing that door with her free hand.

“Can you stand for a moment?” she said, apprehension clear in her voice.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I can stand.” Stabilizing myself against the counter, Nurse Prim stepped over to the patient’s table and brushed some gauze wrappers into her hand.

“Sorry, sorry, I was helping another student earlier this morning. You wouldn't believe the day I’ve had,” she chuckled. After helping me up onto the table, I could feel the glitches thankfully begin to recede.

She rolled her chair over and sat in front of me. “Okay, what the hell was that, Gabrielle? Were bolts of lightning shooting off of your body?”

“Yeah…” I sighed. No more secrets. “It’s… it’s like I’m glitching.”

“Glitching,” she repeated, looking as if she was rolling the term over her tongue. “Okay, makes sense.” She leaned forward. “Does it hurt?”

“It does,” I replied somberly. I slowly reclined myself into a lying position on the table and tried to calm myself. Spinning around, she pulled a strange black and rectangular device from one of her cabinet drawers.

“Would you mind if I took a look?” She noticed my eyes trained on the device in her hand and snorted. “No, no, don’t worry. This isn’t gonna hurt. It’ll just help me see what’s going on at a cellular level, like at the source.”

Not having the presence of mind to see any fault in her logic anyways, I shrugged. “Alright.”

She walked over with the device and pushed a few buttons on it. “Say ‘ah’, please?”

“Ahhhh…” I opened wide, allowing her to press a probe-looking portion of the device onto the inside of my mouth. She just as quickly retracted it and stuck it back into the device. Leaning against the counter, she laughed.

“Fascinating.”

“What? Something wrong?” I asked. 

“Oh! No, no.” She looked back up at me, surprised as if she had momentarily forgotten I was there. “So speedster cells are super-charged, right? Lots of energy zooming around from cell to cell, almost as if wires were connecting them. Make sense?”

“I guess so,” I replied casually. “I had no idea that was the case, but in retrospect yeah, that makes total sense. How’d you figure that out?”

She seemed to ignore my question and stared down at the screen, continuing; “Except the energy transfer between cells here is… off. Instead of discharging evenly into the next cell, it looks like there’s an ambient charge leftover in the space between them.”

“What does that mean?” I hesitantly asked.

She turned and rummaged around in another drawer. “Well, it’s just a hypothesis until I can test it, but I assume the discharge is building up and, like a spark onto dry leaves, is igniting the energy being discharged everywhere else. This results in what I imagine to be some pretty serious pain, huh? At least, that’s what it looked like yesterday.”

“Yeah, hurts like hell,” I agreed before catching myself. “Wait, what do you mean yesterday? I didn’t glitch in front of you yesterday.”

“What?” she scoffed. “Don’t be absurd, I saw you do it at the prison.”

I blinked in reply. “No… I don’t think you did?”

She set her glasses down softly onto the counter. “Right, right.” She nodded. “Sorry. Starting to lose the thread separating the two. Secret identities and all, they’ll send your mind into an absolute tailspin if you aren't vigilant. But who am I talking to? You understand better than anybody.” Iron cuffs sprung out of the chair, wrapping around both my wrists and legs, pinning me down to the table.

“N-nurse Prim?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Actually...” She turned back around and leaned over the table, glowing amethyst-lensed goggles now adorning her face. “I prefer Hexecute. It has that… je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?”