A knock at my door made me flinch and I hastily dogeared the page I was browsing and slammed the phone book shut. I threw a textbook over it, then rose and walked over, slapping the button for the door. Who was bugging me now on a Saturday? Everyone should have gone home.

  “Hey Lia,” Vista greeted me with a grin. “Everyone’s going out for dinner tonight, it’s Jordan’s birthday. You coming?”

  “Oh.” It was Crucible’s birthday? “Uh, no, sorry, I totally forgot. Didn’t get a gift or anything, and I’ve kind of got studying to do…”

  “Studying?” she scoffed. “It’s still September, are your teacher’s crazy?”

  “Yeah must be,” I said dryly. “Tell everyone sorry I won’t be there.”

  “Sure,” she nodded. Her eyes flicked up to the top of my head, like they’d been doing the whole time we’d been talking.

  “Thinking of a buzz for yourself?” I asked sarcastically.

  “No!” Vista exclaimed, then blushed. “Just...I don’t know, I’ve never seen a girl with hair like that.”

  “Behold,” I drawled, spreading my arms. “Like a flying pig or something.” She snorted.

  “It’s cool,” she said with a nod. “Kind of weird but like, tough. It fits.”

  “In that I’m kind of weird but tough?”

  “Exactly.” We shared a giggle. “Anyway, hope studying doesn’t suck too much. Good night Lia.”

  “See you Vista.”

  “Uh, not in costume,” she said, sounding confused.

  “Well sure, but we’re not in public either,” I said, shrugging. “Don’t you prefer ‘Vista’ to ‘Missy’?”

  Yeah I…” She blushed and looked at the ground, a small smile on her face. “I didn’t know you remembered.”

  “My memory’s really bad, except for tiny little details sometimes,” I said. “Just be glad I didn’t totally blank on your name.”

  “God I hate when that happens,” Vista said, grimacing. “Anyway, see you.”

  I shut the door and flicked the ‘do not disturb’ light. It wasn’t really that late, just seven, but I didn’t want any more interruptions; or any chance discovery of my research. I returned to my desk and cracked the phone book back open, flicking through to the page I’d been on. I idly picked at the belly of my right arm while I read.

  Tattoo parlors. Brockton Bay had a metric ton, not too surprising considering the gang presence. I was looking for one in particular though, one I was painfully familiar with. Since chatting with Doctor O’Keefe yesterday, I hadn’t been able to get Mannequin’s trial out of my head. Bastard. Definitely wasn’t fucking telling him about it because then he’d want to talk and that would lead to more of this.

  But that wasn’t enough, it didn’t stop my skin from itching every time I stopped picking for more than a couple minutes. It didn’t stop me from remembering the sickening ‘crunch’ of Victor’s hand under mine. It didn’t stop me from wishing I went further.

  I’d fix that though, tomorrow. School night, which made it a little stupid, but I did stupid things all the time. This didn’t even crack the top five, and it was for a much better cause. It was a little harrowing, having to remember what details I could from back then. But it let me find what I needed: Fred’s Tattoo and Barber.

  I jotted the address down on a piece of paper and stuffed it in my pocket. Wasn’t going to be that hard to find, but it meant venturing into the south of the city. That had been damned dangerous last time, and I’d only got by on my mom’s rep. Since I’d fucked up Victor...well they knew I wasn’t friendly to them anymore.

  Still, not every flunky would know my face. There shouldn’t have been any reason they’d even be out on a Sunday night. If there were gangsters out, I’d avoid them at best or bluff past them with some bullshit at worst. Caution would be the name of the game, caution and then running really, really fast.

  Now where was I going to get some gasoline…

  My backpack clinked as I walked up the road, making me wince. I’d muffled the bottles as best I could, but there was only so much I could do about glass. Plus I didn’t want my clothes smelling like a camp stove, so I couldn’t have put the cans of kerosene and motor oil in there; I carried those in a shopping bag.

  Fortunately, the streets were fairly empty. It may have been Nazi territory, but that didn’t translate to lurking gangsters wanting a fight. Werwolf was Krieg’s operation, and since the freak dressed like an actual 1940s fascist he probably wanted to keep things more in that track; a ‘civilized’ genocide. I’d show him civilized…

  It looked a lot better than the last time I’d been through, I had to admit. The streets were clear, most of the buildings that had been damaged were either repaired or had been razed and were being rebuilt. To my surprise, there was actually less graffiti than last time, though what was usually were more elaborate pieces. Territory claiming, no doubt, or maybe those were bases? Seemed a bit stupid to mark up where you worked, but I wasn’t going to claim Nazis were smart.

  I’d have to do some real scouting before I tried anything down here though. Out in the east of the city, where it was just Wotan’s Wolves, I didn’t have to be as careful. They weren’t as organized, didn’t have half the capes Werwolf had. Here though, I was outnumbered, outgunned, and in a lot of trouble if I got caught out badly.

  So I wouldn’t. I slipped into an alleyway just a block from my destination, hiding between a pair of pungent dumpsters while I changed. Once I was dressed, I took the two glass bottles from my bag and set them out alongside the kerosene and oil. I’d scavenged them from one of the bins outside Amy’s apartment when I’d been getting my weapons.

  It was surprisingly hard to find a way to get gas without a car or a big-ass jerry can, but after doing some digging I found out there were alternatives. A visit to the hardware store earlier today had surprised me though, because it turned out they had everything I needed to make a good fire bomb.

  The mix was nothing special, though kind of a pain to measure right in the darkness of the alley. Half-blind, I filled the bottles two-thirds of the way with kerosene, thankful my brain had been working earlier and I’d got a funnel to make this easier. The rest of the space was filled with the thick motor oil, which was supposed to make it stick better as far as I understood.

  I capped the bottles and shook them hard, just to make sure it all mixed well. After that was getting them ready to burn. Rather than a rag around the top, like I’d thought about doing before looking into it, I went with another find from the hardware store: storm matches. I found myself smiling at it, it was a damn good idea hence me stealing it wholesale. Each bottle got two, one on each side, taped at the bottom to keep them in place.

  I dumped the lot into the shopping bag, then zipped up my backpack and slung it. As I started walking towards the tattoo shop, my heart beat faster and faster. It was a cool night in late September, autumn was well on the way, but I still had sweat dripping down my back and making my turtleneck stick to my skin.

  Of course I was nervous about this, I was planning on turning a Nazi storefront into an inferno. If they found me, I was in for a hell of a fight. If the heroes found me, I was in for an arson charge. I had a plan though. It was simple, maybe stupidly so, but it was one that hadn’t failed me yet. As soon as the bombs were away and the tattoo parlor was ablaze, I’d be sprinting the opposite direction as fast as my little legs could take me.

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  It was less stupid than it sounded, I’d checked the maps and planned my escape route through the alleys and sidestreets; even cutting through a few backyards just to throw off any pursuit. This was probably the most well thought out thing I’d ever done on my own, really, and it was a firebombing. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that…

  I ignored it, could worry about whatever stupid moral bullshit was bothering me later. My arm was bothering me more, and I found myself scratching at it while I was walking up the road. I could see the sign, now properly restored, waving slightly in the steady breeze. The street was totally empty, no surprise for eleven on a Sunday. I stopped in the middle of the road and set my bag down, staring at the painted windows.

  “Here again,” I said quietly, taking the bottles out of the bag. “Fucking hell.”

  I felt sick to my stomach and hunched over, retching. I didn’t throw up, but it was a near thing. How long had I sat in that chair getting stained with their colours? Then learning about Mom… My hands shook as I clumsily dug a lighter out of my pocket. I was going to erase this place from the map, erase...all that. I flicked the lighter a couple times, tossing the bottle up and down in one hand. I flinched and nearly dropped it as a dark figure slammed into the pavement less than a meter a way. She rose, clad in dark clothes like I was.

  “Stop.” The woman’s voice was firm, and I felt a pulse of fear that made my heart skip a beat. “Put the bottle down.” My eyes widened.

  “Is that motherfucking Glory Girl behind that balaclava?” I asked incredulously. I saw her eyes widen and stiffened. “Well shit, I guess you won’t buy ‘this isn’t what it looks like’?”

  “What the fuck are you doing out here Amaranth?” she demanded, volume dropping. “Why the fuck do you have a, a…”

  “Firebomb,” I said flatly. “I think people call them Molotov cocktails too.” I flicked the lighter again and lit one of the matches on it.

  “Put it down,” she demanded. “Don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?” I snapped. “Burn this shitstain of a place to the ground? Don’t deny the Nazis a place in this city?”

  “You’re a hero,” Glory Girl retorted. “Or at least you’re supposed to be. We don’t do shit like that! Why the fuck would you think this is okay? Are you insane?” My eye twitched.

  “You fucking self-righteous bitch.” She flinched. I crushed the burning tip of the match between my fingers. “I don’t know if you read the news, but these animals deserve way worse than what I’m doing. And if you were happy with how the heroes were handling this, I bet your ass wouldn’t be out here would it?”

  “I’m not burning buildings to the ground,” she growled.

  “Hey neither am I, I should fix that.” I lit the match again, cocking my arm back as she took a step towards me. “Careful, you know how twitchy I am.”

  “Amaranth you—” I whipped my arm forward, smiling as the bottle crashed through one of the windows and practically exploded inside the shop.

  “Whoops,” I said, snagging the second one. “Hand slipped.” I threw the next bottle in, adding to the inferno before she could stop me.

  “What the fuck?!” Glory Girl shrieked, loud enough to make me wince. “That’s it, you’re under arrest Amaranth. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with you, but the PRT will—”

  “Shut up,” I snapped as an engine roared up the road. With a screech of tires, a truck with makeshift armour rounded the corner a block away and sped towards us. “Company. Run or fight Glory Girl?” I felt a pulse of terror, but she turned on her heel to face the oncoming truck.

  It stopped a few meters away and half a dozen guys in black piled out. A few had rifles, the rest pistols, and they shouted at us or each other as they tried to organize. I ran forward, determined not to give them the chance. One unlucky fascist didn’t get his fingers out of his trigger guard in time, and they were added to the parts list of his scrapped pistol.

  Glory Girl was right onboard with me when it came to fighting, at least. Even as the Nazi gangster fell to his knees, screaming about his mangled fingers, she crashed into their truck. It was a wreck, and she raised the thing in front of her as the mooks turned to shoot her. Of course that meant they forgot about little old me, at least until my brass knuckle crashed into their backs or sides.

  Much as my blood was boiling, I didn’t want anyone dead tonight if I could help it. I dished out pain liberally, making sure none of these rats would be walking home. Their leader whirled on me as Glory Girl dropped the truck, drawing his pistol and dumping the magazine right in my face as he screamed incoherently. It was loud, and only stopped when I delivered a brutal uppercut to his jaw and dumped him to the pavement.

  “Fuck,” I swore, looking down at the fallen fascists, then up at Glory Girl as she came around the wrecked truck. “Nice work.”

  “You’re still under arrest,” she said, stilted and cold. It sounded like she was reading off a script.

  “Let me explain first,” I countered. “Look, you weren’t the only one having a bad time when the Nine were in town, okay?” She stared at me, glaring furiously behind the balaclava, but gave a single nod. “Cool. Sunnyside Park, half a mile, you know it?”

  She did, and like that took off into the sky. I sighed and ran back to the discarded bag sitting in front of the raging inferno. After tossing it inside, I took off sprinting down the alley across from the shop. My bit of prep work wasn’t perfect, a couple of the sidestreets I’d wanted to used were still blocked by debris and the lights were on in one of the houses where I’d have cut through their yard. Still, there was no sign of pursuit by the time I stopped my headlong flight away from my night’s work.

  I stopped by the side of a darkened shop, quickly changing into my usual shorts, shirt, and jacket. It was a little chilly, but my pumping adrenaline kept me from really feeling it. Once I was dressed, with my knife and knuckle in my pockets, I walked the rest of the way to the park. It was barely ten minutes, but I saw Glory Girl standing out front, tapping her foot impatiently. When I approached, she whirled on me, hands on her hips. I shook my head and pointed into the darkened park.

  “Explain,” Glory Girl demanded after we’d gone a few feet, grabbing hold of my shoulder. “Now.” I shrugged her off.

  “Chill out,” I snapped. “We’re on the same side in case you forgot.”

  “Are we?” she she hissed. “Because you just fucking committed arson, right in front of me. You didn’t even bat an eye at it.”

  “Yup,” I agreed with a nod. “And you helped me get away with it. Which, actually thanks; I could have taken their QRF myself but I wouldn’t have been able to wreck their truck like that.”

  “Amaranth...” she growled.

  “Okay, okay, actual explanation.” I took a deep breath.

  It wasn’t easy, mostly because I didn’t want to think about it at all let alone talk. Watching the distant column of smoke drifting off lazily in the sky helped a little though. I watched her look change from one of fury, to disgust, to horror as I describe the Nine’s trial and meeting Victor after. Not in detail, I didn’t want to think about details, but enough that she’d get it. She had to.

  “Holy shit,” Glory Girl said shakily once I’d finished. I clenched my hands to keep them from shaking. “You— Did that really happen?”

  “Your sister got rid of the evidence, but yeah,” I said, nodding. “I fucking hate these animals, Glory Girl. I hate that they’re walking around scot-free while everyone else is hiding from them. I hate that the heroes aren’t doing more, fuck I hate that I’m not doing more. This...I don’t think it was too far, I don’t think it was far enough really. These rats should be cowering in their holes, not walking the streets with their chins up.”

  “That’s…” She began, then paused. “I don’t… I know how you feel, but it’s still not right. Even though you had a good reason, you still burned down a building. That’s criminal, no matter how you look at it. Even if they’re bad, we can’t sink to their level. We have to be better.” She sounded angry, frustrated; it didn’t sound directed at me though.

  “Are assault and battery better?” I asked evenly. “What about property damage? No matter how you slice it Glory Girl, neither of us were supposed to be out here tonight, unless your costume suddenly changed and no one told me.” Her gaze flicked to the ground and I continued. “When the rules don’t work, fuck them. Not saying I’ll cut loose and starting gutting people like I’m Jack Slash, but I’m also not going to hold back against monsters that deserve it. How long have you been fighting Nazis, Glory Girl? Longer than me, and they’re still around. The way things are going, they always will be.

  “I don’t want to live in that world,” I continued, my voice dropping to an angry growl. “I’d rather fucking die than let these fucks dig themselves in again. The heroes benched me, so I’m doing it my own way. I’d rather be a Ward, going out on patrols, doing this right; believe me, I want that badly. I have friends, a place to stay, and I’m putting that on the line because there are bigger problems, problems I can’t and won’t ignore anymore.

  “So that’s it, the whole story. If you still want to take me in, you’re welcome to try, but you’ll have to tack ‘resisting arrest’ onto the charges. That and maybe a few bruises, I bet my projection beats your force field.” She stared at me silently as my whole body tensed, waiting for her to pounce.

  Christ,” she sighed, pulling off her balaclava and running her fingers through long, blonde locks. “I...fuck, Amaranth that’s—”

  “No masks,” I snapped, shooting her a glare.

  “Sorry Lia,” she said hastily. “I just...I don’t know.”

  “Go home then,” I said simply. “Like I’m going to. We never met, tonight never happened.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Then make your choice now,” I said. “You try and arrest me and we fight, or you take off and we both agree that Glory Girl and Amaranth were never involved here, that it was just an unfortunate incident of gang violence against some of the worst monsters who’ve ever lived in Brockton Bay.”

  She stared at me silently for a long, tense minute. Then, like that, she vanished into the sky overhead. I sighed and wiped my brow, scratching my head. That could have gone badly, really it still could if she was bullshitting me and actually running to get reinforcements. I stared up at the sky for a moment, then shook my head.

  I wasn’t sticking around to find out.