“There was a time,” Marquise said, “when I was in a position of considerable power that no one had any idea how to remove me from. Several positions, even.”

  “That sounds almost like a confession,” Maisie said.

  Marquise ignored her. “I had made myself thoroughly untouchable. Quite a lot of people were rather motivated to see me brought down, and yet I remained. Whether they were bruisers who only knew how to fight, thinkers with plans within plans and strategies within strategies, they could do nothing. This went on for years. I've no doubt you've heard of some of it.”

  “People have had a lot to say about you,” I said, when I realised she was expecting a response from me.

  “Indeed they have. And back then, they had even more to say. But somehow, it rarely occurred to them to say these things to me.”

  “People willing to speak their minds to tyrannical supervillains are in short supply? How shocking,” Maisie said.

  “That isn't to say I was never subjected to heroic speeches and appeals. But it was vanishingly rare for anyone to try to understand me, strangely enough. I've always thought that figuring out someone's motivations was one of the easiest ways to figure out how to beat them. That is one of the many lessons I've tried to impart on the students in my time at this Academy.”

  Maisie and I exchanged a look. “You feel misunderstood, do you?” I asked.

  Marquise leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers in her lap. She looked deceptively unthreatening, and with no power signal emanating from her, it was easy to buy into that facade. But, though I didn't know her power, I wouldn't let her fool me.

  It would take a lot more than a mild demeanour to win any sympathy from me, let alone trust. As it was, I was still expecting things to go wrong here, though I didn't know how.

  “I don't particularly care if anyone understands me. I need no peers, and I never have.” She tilted her head to one side, gaze drifting to one side. “But when he approached me under the banner of truce, I will admit I was taken off guard by what he had to say. Philosophical debates were nothing new to me, especially with a superhero as my opponent. But Herakles is a singular existence, in our society. Some say he is the most powerful superhuman in the world. Certainly, if you believe that the Shimada Scale is a true, objective measure of power, then he stands at the pinnacle. And he has impressive feats under his belt. This, I cannot deny.”

  I found myself leaning forward, despite myself. My interactions with Herakles were few and far between, and I couldn't say he was my favourite superhero when Valiant existed. But there was something about the so-called most powerful man in the world that had such a magnetic allure, even a story from one of his former arch nemeses dragged me in.

  At my movement, Marquise’s attention snapped back to me. “So I took it more seriously than I otherwise might have, even if the content of what he had to say wasn't exactly new to me. When he asked me questions, I thought seriously about my answers. And his responses were not exactly what I was expecting either.”

  “What did he say?” I asked, trying to ignore the dread pooling in my stomach. A part of me didn't even want to hear her answer. I didn't know what I would do if it turned out that Herakles had sanctioned all of this crap that had been going on, letting his own school fall to this.

  He wasn't my favourite superhero, but he might just be the one I respected most, if for nothing else than for all the good work he’d done over his career. He was one of the first, the forerunners—the founder, you could say, of superheroism as a real life thing. The idea of him aligning with Marquise… I didn't even want to consider it. Refused to believe it.

  Marquis was quiet for a moment, watching me levelly. I don't know what she saw in my face, or my body language, but I detected a shift in her, that I once again couldn't explain. There was no change in her expression, and her fingers were still laced in her lap. She hadn't even moved at all. But still, once again, there was something different about her. I narrowed my eyes. But before I could think on it anymore, she finally spoke.

  “To Herakles, heroism is an utterly altruistic thing. In his mind, a hero exists to save people from danger, whatever form it may take. Physical, mental, environmental, a hero stands against it all.” Marquis paused for a moment. “Would it surprise you to learn that I do not entirely disagree with him?”

  “Yes,” Maisie said immediately.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. Maisie gave me a side on glare, but I ignored her.

  “It is a hero’s job to save people. This is undeniable. But what is the most effective way to save someone?”

  “Here we go,” Maisie muttered. “I wondered when we would get to this.”

  Again, Marquis ignored her. Instead, she stared at me expectantly, until I realised she was actually asking a question, and not just speaking rhetorically.

  I thought about my answer, about this situation, about what she was actually expecting from this conversation. “That depends on what you're saving a person from.”

  “Indeed,” Marquise said. “When Herakles walked into my office in Austin, Texas, the example he used was of an alien invasion. That man always did have quite the imagination, and he put it to good use in posing me an impossible scenario. He went into great detail, showing a deep understanding of the resources at my disposal, which was nothing new to me. People had figured that out before. But I must admit, there was a small thrill to be found in having the most famous superhero in the world lay out his knowledge of my operation.”

  “Eugh,” Maisie said, sneering in disgust. “You sound like you admire him.”

  “I've come to appreciate him in spite of some of his eccentricities over the years. We have a cordial working relationship.”

  “And how did that relationship even come to be?” I asked. “The circumstances of your switching sides has been kept secret, as far as I can tell. I always thought that was strange. You'd expect there would be more details to assuage the public’s concerns about a former supervillain having access to the brightest future superheroes.”

  “Be patient,” Marquis said, a little shortly, showing irritation for the first time. Or was that more acting from her? I couldn't guess what she would gain from showing that bit of emotion, but I wasn't yet experienced enough to fathom the minds of schemers such as her. “The scenario of the ‘alien invasion’ went like this: they arrived through portals leading to the most densely populated cities on earth, and immediately began attacking. Herakles challenged me to mount a hypothetical defence that would do better than his. His idea was to gather the strongest superhumans—heroes and villains—in the world into an army that would take the fight to the aliens, despite the overwhelming advantage in numbers as technology our imaginary enemies possessed. Mine was to mount a guerrilla resistance, striking from the shadows, identifying important to targets and picking them off one by one, until the command structure of the enemy crumbled, allowing us to eventually defeat them in detail.”

  “And Herakles disagree with that,” I said, relief coursing through me at the knowledge that Herakles was still the man I thought he was.

  “He argued that it would lead to more suffering for the people of earth, if they were forced to live under the yoke of an enemy for longer. He believed it was better to strike upfront, out in the open. To show the people of Earth that we are not defeated, and inspire hope within them.”

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  On a whim, I took a step forward, and lowered myself into one of the seats she'd placed on the other side of her desk. After a bit of grumbling, Maisie followed suit. “Herakles has talked a lot about heroes being symbols.”

  “Just so,” Marquise said with a nod. “Dimitri is not a stupid man. I'm sure he would be smarter about it if such a disaster truly occurred. But ultimately his philosophy is that the act is the most important thing, the image. Inspiration and hope and all that.” She sighed. “People should not suffer, and if you can do something about it, you should prevent it—that was the meat of his argument. On this, we found that we agreed. It came as a surprise to me, that this was not a surprise to him. In fact, from the very beginning, he came to the conversation believing that we weren't so different in mindset, just in execution. This intrigued me.”

  “Oh, come off it,” Maisie snapped. “Are you going to try and tell us that everything you did down in Texas was out of the goodness of your own heart? That you had the well-being of the people in mind? You know nothing you can say is ever going to convince me of that.”

  “I'm not trying to convince you,” Marquise said, without looking at her.

  “Why are you trying to convince me? And what, exactly, are you trying to convince me of?” I asked.

  “We'll get to that.” Once again, something about her changed, even though she hadn't moved a muscle. It was in her voice this time, I realised. There was no physical change to it, no alteration in pitch, intonation, or emotion. But there was something there, something I couldn't explain. “There are many people out there who subscribe to a philosophy of ends justifying the means. I wouldn't quite say that matches my outlook, but I do believe there’s some truth to it. In my view, whether the most expedient solution is moral or ethical should not matter except in the most extreme cases. Criminals are always going to exist. There will always be people who are desperate, or who make bad decisions in a moment of extreme stress. And there will always be people who simply enjoy being cruel. Do you deny this?”

  “I want to, but I'm not sure I can. I saw unnecessary cruelty for myself just a few weeks ago,” I said, glaring at her. It was partially her fault that's such cruel people had thought they had a chance of entering AA in the first place after all. They wouldn't have been in the test without her.

  “Back then, I was of the opinion that I would make the world a better place if I took control of these unsavoury elements of society. I was young then. Naive, in some ways. I do not think I was entirely incorrect to think that way, but I was not entirely correct either.”

  I could practically feel Maisie's eyeroll, but surprisingly, she didn't say anything.

  “That really sounds a lot like a confession,” I said on her behalf.

  “At this point, I'm not particularly concerned about being prosecuted for my actions. And I feel no guilt for them besides. Whether or not you believe it, I am adamant that I made things better while I was in that position. And I will also posit that I have made things better in this position.” She gestured to the room around her, and the Academy beyond those white walls.

  Maisie barked a laugh, and even I had to blink at the audacity of that statement. “How do you figure that?” I asked.

  “Not everyone is as enamoured with the idea of superheroes as you, Mister Shaw,” Marquise said. “For many, it's no different from becoming a Hollywood celebrity, I'm sure you've noticed.”

  I clenched my jaw, but didn't grace that with any further response. She was right. Of course she was. I'd observed it myself plenty of times. People who wanted that kind of thing didn't fit in at Aegis, in my opinion. But it wasn't as if my opinion would have a lot of weight around here, if I ever voiced it.

  “And that is one of the more benign reasons a student may want to become a superhero, if they’re not so noble as you,” Marquise said. “You’ve both had experience with these types, now.”

  Maisie shifted beside me. Her power signal had dimmed to almost nothing, I realised.

  “Herakles and I were unable to come to an agreement as to who won our little debate, and so we moved on to many more,” Marquise continued. “There are some things I’m not at liberty to disclose without his permission; we made a deal, and I am a woman of my word. But you could say our argument is still ongoing.”

  I frowned. “So, what? Herakles wants to teach heroes to stand up and do what’s right, and you want them to…?”

  “I advocate for a more adaptable kind of hero. The more ruthless sorts are always going to end up in positions of power somewhere. That’s how the world works. While the Olympians are generally more Herakles’ kind of hero, chosen by the man himself, he was realistic enough to recognise that there are more unscrupulous individuals—and, indeed, entire teams—even among the upper echelons of the Good side of superhuman society.” Marquise unlaced her fingers, only to press her palms together, still in her lap. With it came another change in her that I couldn’t put words to. “You could say one of my primary jobs here is to guide those people to better outcomes, in my own way. Taking people of lesser moral character and teaching them to take actions that will benefit the greater good can only be a positive, I’m sure we can agree?”

  “Maybe if that’s all you were doing,” I said.

  Marquise watched me for a moment, and I wondered what she saw in me. I liked to think I had been keeping my emotions mostly off my face during this exchange, but I wasn’t under the impression I was any kind of acting talent.

  “Believe it or not,” Marquise said eventually, “I do appreciate courage. There is undoubtedly something to be admired in a person who will stand up and take action in a crisis.” She nodded towards the door, indicating the hallway beyond and its artworks. “At the very least, I find it worth commemorating.”

  “I’m not sure how much any of those heroes would appreciate ending up on your wall,” I said.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t ask them.” Marquise paused, and yet again, something changed about her. This time, I’d had enough.

  “What are you doing?” I snapped. I’d tried to keep myself calm, so far, and the sudden rise in volume seemed to echo in the blank room.

  Marquise raised an eyebrow. “While I admit my explanation has been somewhat long-winded, I don’t believe I’ve strayed too far from what you’ve asked of me.”

  “Not that. You know what I’m talking about. You’re… doing something. I don’t know what.”

  There was a moment of silence, and once more, there was a shift, a change. This time, it was much more tangible, carrying a feeling I could put a name to. It was like a sharp, pointed object was rubbing up against the same sense by which I felt power signals. The effect was so faint it could have been imagined, but I was confident it wasn’t; she was definitely doing something.

  Something, I realised with a full-body flinch, signal related. I often described power signals in terms of sound because it was simpler for other people to understand that way, but it wasn’t precisely accurate. There was resonance to it, yes, and words like pitch and frequency and tone did a decent enough job of conveying the concept.

  But it was, ultimately, a completely novel sense, and how did you properly explain that to someone who’d never experienced it? So little was understood about power signals, and most of the research focused on raw output to measure how deep a well an individual could pull from.

  And even then, I’d never felt anything like this.

  I stood up slowly, keeping my eyes on Marquise. “What are you doing?” I asked again.

  “Testing you,” she said, and once again, there was that change. There was still no power signal from her, but she was doing something to affect that same sense.

  “Explain,” Maisie growled, shooting to her feet herself. Her power signal practically erupted from her, immediately filling the space around me and drowning out whatever Marquise was doing.

  But only for a moment.

  Something like a power signal but not flowed out from Marquise, and Maisie’s power signal muted in turn. I turned immediately to her, terrified anticipation thrumming through me, half-expecting my sister to be on the ground, cringing in pain. But I found… nothing out of the ordinary. Or, well, nothing unusual.

  Maisie’s usual power signs were blazing; the nebulae in her eyes, the field of stars twinkling in her hair and cape, the subtle distortion as she brought her power to a hair-trigger, ready to be unleashed.

  And her power signal was utterly silent. Maisie noticed my attention, and flicked her gaze to me. Whatever she saw, it brought her up short, and her power signs faded away. She took a step towards me, one hand held up, like I was some frightened animal. “Emmett?”

  I turned back to Marquise, wide-eyed. “What are you doing?” I asked for a third time.

  “Something I believe you may be able to learn,” Marquise said.