“Violence is a tool that needs to be exercised with great care,” Sere said, his voice quiet. He was sitting on the roof of the PRT building with Amaranth, gazing out at the skyline. So many boarded windows, even now. “It is something many parahumans struggle with, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Uh huh,” Amaranth grunted, staring out at the city with knit brows.

  “I understand you think attacking the arsonist was justified,” he continued, glancing at her. “Why?”

  “Who cares,” she muttered, voice flat as a stopped heartbeat. “It was against the rules so it was bad. Whatever reason I had it was wrong.” A nice, regurgitated noise.

  “I would still like to know,” he replied. “Your heart may be in the right place.” She scoffed.

  “Yeah?” Amaranth asked, gaze falling to the street below. “How explicit can I be, sir?”

  “As you like.” She had a reputation for a foul mouth, but considering her experience Sere could hardly blame her.

  “The Protectorate is killing people,” she said bluntly. “Maybe you guys aren’t putting a gun in their mouths, or sucking the water from their bodies, but the effect is the same. Adamant was more than two minutes behind me and Vista. I looked it up, people can only survive without oxygen for three to five minutes. Five people died by the time we got there. I don’t think anyone would have lived if we hadn’t.”

  “And it’s not getting better,” Amaranth continued, gesturing to the city beyond. “Harassed at school in front of security, church burnings, hell I don’t even know what else because no one tells us. We’re just kids, gotta be protected, but also let’s go fight a fifty-foot monster with an instant death field. So whatever, I’ll fall in line. Maybe I’ll learn to stomach the blood on my hands like the rest of you.” He took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Sere said genuinely. “There are times I feel the same.” Her head snapped to the side.

  “Really?” It didn’t sound like she believed him.

  “Yes,” he said simply. Amaranth was a girl who said what was on her mind, no holds barred. She would appreciate the same, no doubt. “Sometimes I believe a more aggressive strategy should be employed, or villains dealt with more harshly. I wasn’t always part of the Protectorate, you know?”

  “When did you join?” she asked, seemingly interested.

  “Just a few months ago,” Sere answered. “Not long before you joined the Wards, in fact. Before that I was an independent cape, a vigilante. There were a number of times I was spot-questioned by heroes for my use of force.”

  “Because you drained too much water?”

  “Just so,” he said with a sharp nod. “It’s a careful balance, a knife’s edge, to hurt without seriously harming; trust that I of all people know that.”

  “I guess,” Amaranth said, sighing. “And what if they deserve it, whatever’s coming to them?”

  “That’s not for us to decide,” Sere said. “Especially now, as parahumans, we need to be beholden to those we protect. That means, in this case, following the rules the PRT sets out for us. I do understand how frustrating it can be, but it’s vital.”

  “I’m trying,” she groaned. “I just feel like I’m not doing enough, especially being taken off patrols because now I’m doing fuckall!”

  “You’re learning how to be a hero,” he countered. “I didn’t perfect how to stun someone without hurting them for some time, but I did learn. During your fight at school, you injured one of your victim’s legs; but not seriously enough to need medical attention, just enough to incapacitate.”

  “Oh my god when am I going to stop hearing about that?”

  “In this case,” Sere continued, hiding his annoyance. “That is a good thing. You restrained your powers so you didn’t harm him. Maybe you didn’t feel as threatened by a schoolyard fight as you do by gangsters, but it’s a starting point. Consider that.” She turned her head and stared at the city again.

  “Still fucked up, didn’t I?” Amaranth asked.

  “Don’t focus on the failure, except to learn from it,” he said. “Even in failure you can find success. Then you learn how to apply that success elsewhere.”

  “God you make it sound like flicking a fucking switch,” she snapped. “Like Yamada and O’Keefe, it doesn’t just work like that.”

  “Indeed it doesn’t,” Sere agreed, getting another surprised look. “But the earlier you start to look, the sooner it becomes habit. The sooner it becomes habit, the sooner you learn, and the sooner you’ll be back out there where you want to be.” She looked down at the streets again.

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  “How soon?”

  “That’s up to you,” he said simply. The door opened behind them and he lifted his head, nodding at Dr. Yamada. “I cannot promise it will be quick or easy Amaranth, but all of us want to help because we need all the help we can get.”

  “Okay,” Amaranth sighed, glancing back at the door. “Guess I’m back with them.”

  “Adamant will see you tomorrow.” She winced at that. “I believe you’ll be working on restraining your power.”

  “Great.”

  Without another word, Amaranth rose and followed the doctor downstairs. Sere sighed and fiddled with the hem of his robes. The door opened again, and a moment later Miss Militia stood beside him. They watched the city quietly for a while, listening its music. A violent soundscape for a violent city.

  “Thoughts?” Miss Militia asked after a few minutes, and too many gunshot to count.

  “I think she’s right,” Sere answered tersely. “My understanding is it was a historic church too? This strategy of husbanding our resources is well and good, but we’re less effective because of it. There must be some retaliation for this or the gangsters will grow bolder.”

  “I meant about Amaranth,” she huffed, then sighed. “But I see what you mean. Do you think you can be restrained if you’re part of that?” He perked up and cocked his head. “I’m not a fool and I’m not a pacifist, Sere. I want peace, and I understand the road there might not always be peaceful.”

  “Why not tell her?” he asked. “Or any of the Wards?”

  “Director Higgins is of the opinion they’ve been overexposed to the ugly side of hero work,” Miss Militia answered. “I...can’t help but agree with him.”

  “As the expression goes, you can’t put the genie back.”

  “From a man dressed like a dervish, that’s almost funny.”

  They shared a hollow chuckle and the conversation died. After another moment, Miss Militia beckoned and he followed. It wasn’t funny in the slightest, all things considered, but what was these days? They headed down the elevator, then through the back hallways of the upper floors. At one of the secure planning rooms, Miss Militia scanned her retina. Sere did the same after, sliding up one of the eyepieces in his mask. One they’d been seated at a table with Adamant and Triumph, Miss Militia cleared her throat.

  “Not a word of the planning in here outside this room, not until we’re in the field.” She met each hero’s eyes in turn. “If you can’t agree to that, you’re off this operation.” No one spoke up. “I trust you. Tonight at one in the morning, the Undersiders are planning a serious retaliation against Werwolf. We’re joining in. This is little different to the situation we faced with the ABB, Triumph you remember?”

  “I do,” he said tensely. “And I’m not sure I like the comparison, ma’am.”

  “Neither do I,” Miss Militia said grimly. “But I don’t like churches burning with people inside either. Tattletale has graciously provided a list of targets for us to pick from, and we’re here to decide what and when.”

  “Can we be sure these are actually Werwolf and not just her rivals?” Adamant rumbled, chair creaking as he leaned forward. Even in just his interface suit, he was gigantic.

  “This is a shortlist of what plainclothes could identify as valid; she sent these this morning.”

  “Why haven’t we struck?” Sere asked, cocking his head. “Just because the criminals do their work at night doesn’t mean we must.”

  “A coordinated effort is best,” Triumph countered with a sigh. “Same rules as last time?”

  “No direct cooperation, as little contact as possible,” Miss Militia said with a nod. “We’re not trying to encourage the Undersiders and Ambassadors, because make no mistake they will try and tighten their grip once Werwolf is dealt with.”

  “And do we plan to stop that, or continue to hold back?” Sere held up a hand when she shot him an irate look. “I ask to know if we will use this opportunity to push back against the other criminals in this city. Not actively engage, I did agree to the unconventional arrangement here, but we can do something.”

  “Maybe,” she hedged. “Let’s have that discussion tomorrow, for now we have more important work.”

  Matthew Kent sighed as he stepped into his PRT itinerant apartment, his home until he decided to make a real one here, or moved onto another city. He hadn’t quite decided yet, the results of the raids tonight on several Werwolf training grounds would be one factor; another was what Miss Militia would do about the Undersiders and their allied gangs.

  It was no secret Matthew wasn’t a believer in the not-quite-blatant truce. He had agreed, in part, because the city desperately needed heroes and any more would be a long time coming. The other part was, frankly, he was curious. If their overtures were genuine, which Matthew doubted, then they were certainly the lesser evil of things coming on the horizon.

  The end of the world. That too was almost unbelievable but...he’d seen the numbers, he knew it was genuine. That was a sobering thought, and had shocked him enough that any truce would have been agreeable. Another sigh escaped Matthew’s lips as he slipped off his mask and slowly began unwinding the robes and shrouds that made up his costume.

  Soon he was in his soft silk undergarments; long-sleeved shirt and full length pants. Expensive, but necessary. He stepped into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, wincing at the sight of skin flaking away from his face. The fresh, pink layer beneath was sensitive enough Sere shivered in the relatively cold bathroom.

  A condition brought on by his power. For whatever reason, though he was mostly unaffected, the outermost layers of his skin were constantly desiccated. PRT specialists had studied him, but hadn’t found a solution. Matthew stripped the silk carefully, shaking out the fine dust of himself that had gathered into the trash.

  Then it was his usual routine of a blood-warm shower, thorough moisturizing, and meditation to ensure he wouldn’t have a power flareup in the middle of sleeping. It was early, but in eight hours he would be fighting gangsters at least, and potentially their villain backers. The rest would ensure he was ready for anything.

  As he rested, Matthew’s mind drifted back to his conversation with Amaranth earlier in the afternoon. The girl was headstrong, impulsive, and had an obvious issue with violence. Despite that, she had a strong sense of morality that made her difficult to disagree with at times. When he’d started out, he felt like she had; criminals deserved exactly what was coming to them, and sometimes that meant risking disability or worse.

  But he’d changed, working with the Protectorate, found better solutions. Amaranth could too, he was confident. Perhaps that was why Miss Militia has asked him to speak with her, she knew the Ward would find his background agreeable. Whatever the case, if it helped Amaranth become a better hero he was more than willing to try and help

  She would come around, when she saw the heroes retaliate; he was sure.