The world spins as blood rushes to my head. My ankle is held in a grip of invisible steel, dangling me upside down just inside the doorway. I twist and writhe, trying to see what's got me, but all I can make out is the ceiling and the top of the doorframe.

  "Don't struggle," says a female voice I don't recognize. "It'll just make the restraint tighter."

  Where'd Sundial and Maggie go? It feels like they vanished - and then I see them, continuing to run. My earpiece crackles. "Bee's caught," Maggie's voice comes through. "Tasha, can you get the police en route? Things are going hot."

  I crane my neck to look behind me - or below me, from my current perspective. A figure steps into view, moving from the shadows beside the doorway. Female, average height, black jumpsuit decorated with skulls and spikes and studs, chains looped around her waist and across her chest like bandoliers, heavy boots with steel reinforcements. Her face is obscured by a black domino mask with metallic accents, and her hair is dyed jet black, messy and spiked out in a ponytail.

  She holds one hand outstretched toward my suspended foot, fingers splayed like she's conducting an invisible orchestra. The other hand idly toys with one of the chains looped around her torso.

  "Aye aye," Tasha's voice rings, tinny and annoyed. Like she totally expected this to happen.

  "Well, well," Marathon says, stepping into view. Blood seeps through a tear in his yellow jacket where my teeth punctured him, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. "Nice timing, Drop."

  "I was in the neighborhood," Drop replies, her voice flat, almost bored. "Got your distress call." Her hand remains steady, keeping me suspended. "Looks like you needed the help."

  Marathon's smirk falters slightly. "Had it under control."

  "Sure you did." She tilts her head, studying me. "So this is the infamous Big Bad Wolf of Tacony."

  "Blink, you in range?" Maggie asks in my earpiece.

  I continue twisting, trying to see where Maggie and Sundial are. My blood sense isn't picking up anything fresh, so nobody's been cut open, at least not in Maggie or Sundial's shape. Instead, the orange-fizzy blood of Marathon and his goons pulses in my perception.

  "Let me down," I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite my increasingly pounding headache from the inversion.

  Drop laughs, a short, harsh sound. "Not happening, wolf girl."

  Behind her, Marathon's goons are pulling themselves together. Brass Knuckles nursing his bleeding hand, Refrigerator Guy lumbering to his feet with a groan, Bat Guy holding his injured arm close to his chest. They look worse for wear, but still functional, and now I'm literally hanging by a thread. Or a chain. Whatever. I trace one of the chains that is attached to her wrist like some sort of bangle by a metal band, and trace it all the way up to my ankle, where it's formed some sort of goofy slipknot with a carabiner.

  Okay. Telekinetic? Or just metal-kinetic. Ferrokinetic.

  "Get the merchandise," Marathon orders, and Refrigerator Guy begins scooping up the spilled Jump pills from the floor. "And the laptop."

  I can't see Maggie or Sundial at all now. Creating distance. Being all tactical and shit. I'm almost proud - I know Maggie's most deeply buried impulse is to run in and try to beat them to death.

  "So what's the plan?" I ask, trying to buy time. My arms dangle uselessly toward the floor, and I resist the urge to reach up toward my captured ankle. "Hang me here until I pass out from blood rush? Creative, but lacks follow-through."

  Marathon approaches, standing just out of my reach. Smart. "The plan is simple. Your friends walk away. We walk away with our stuff. Everyone pretends tonight never happened. They've already done the run away part, now you just need to make sure you follow up your end of the bargain."

  "And if I say no?"

  Drop makes a twisting motion with her hand, and something tightens around my ankle painfully. "Then we turn this gas station into a gallows."

  "Funny," I mutter, wincing at the pressure. I flex my foot, trying to get some relief, maybe seeing if I can wiggle out. It's just like Mudslide, when he catches my boots, but there's just too much pressure at my ankle. I can't slip free, not without wiggling too much to go unnoticed.

  "We're reasonable business people," Marathon continues, collecting his laptop while keeping an eye on me. "Tonight was just a... misunderstanding. But now we all know where we stand."

  "Yeah," I reply, my sarcasm intact despite my pounding head. "Me up here, you down there. Super clear."

  His expression darkens. "Don't push it, kid."

  "Or what? You'll dangle me a bit higher?"

  Drop takes a step closer, chains jingling softly with her movement. "I can do more than just suspend you," she says coldly. "Much more. Want to see what happens when I start manipulating the metal in that fancy helmet of yours?"

  I don't point out that it's polymer, not metal. Maybe there are metal pieces in it? But it's not designed to protect my head that much - mostly designed to just hide my identity.

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  Outside, I hear the faint sound of a low whistle - three short bursts. I look around, still trying to find Sundial and Maggie, like they're gonna help me.

  "So you two work together often?" I ask, feigning casual interest while trying to move my free leg into a position where I might be able to generate some momentum. "Cute partnership. Matching jackets and everything."

  Drop scoffs. "We're not partners. I'm just doing cleanup."

  "Cleanup," Marathon echoes, sounding slightly offended. "I had things under control."

  "Three heroes in your shit, and you call that 'under control'?" She shakes her head. "Dude, what if this is just the first wave? They've got eyes on you. Don't you think the Big Bad Wolf works for someone?"

  Marathon's eyes narrow slightly. How much did we hear? How long were we watching? His expression says it all.

  "Eavesdropping too," Drop notes. "Even more reason to shut this down permanently. What if they had wires? What did they hear already? Gotta nip this in the bud, buddy."

  "No," Marathon says quickly. "No bodies. Not here. Too much heat already."

  "Since when are you squeamish?" Drop asks, but there's hesitation in her voice now. "I don't need to strangle her. But you need to move locations. Set up shop somewhere else. Rush will help."

  "It's not about squeamish. It's about smart," Marathon counters. "These aren't just random capes. That's Sundial of the Tacony Titans out there. People notice when their heroes go missing."

  I'm getting lightheaded. This is not a very good position to be in.

  But they don't have a Mr. Polygraph. "The Titans know we're here," I say, injecting confidence into my voice despite my precarious position. "And so do the Delaware Valley Defenders. We logged the operation before coming. Multiplex and I have a debrief tomorrow and he's gonna be pissed if I don't show up."

  "She's bluffing," Drop says, but I can hear uncertainty in her tone. "Nobody would tell you that out loud. This is bigger than the DVD."

  "Maybe," Marathon acknowledges. "But killing capes brings heat we don't need right now. Chill your jets, girl."

  "I've got eyes," Blink's voice finally comes through. "But I can only see everyone's ankles. I need sightlines."

  "Let her down," Marathon says finally. "But keep her restrained. We're taking our stuff and clearing out."

  "Police en route. You gotta get out of there before you get vigilante-capped, though," Tasha says.

  I exhale slowly in relief too soon. Drop suddenly jerks her hand downward, and I crash to the floor in an ungraceful heap, slammed down into the ground like a toy being whacked by a child. More chains wrap around my wrists, ungracefully yanked behind my back, straining my shoulders. There's the prominent click-snap of a carabiner.

  "There," she says flatly. "Down but not out. Search her for wires."

  My head spins from the sudden change in blood flow, but I force myself to focus. I'm on the ground, restrained but conscious. Better than dangling like a caught fish.

  "Get everything packed," Marathon orders his crew. "We're relocating. Tonight."

  "Wires first," Drop orders. Evidently, she has seniority, because Fridge Guy goes for me first.

  "She's just a kid," Marathon says, but he nods to Refrigerator Guy anyway.

  "Kids can wear wires too," Drop snaps. "They're the perfect carriers. Government's been using minors since the 70s. Check her belt first."

  Fridge Guy approaches and flips me onto my stomach with a rough shove. I bite back a cry as my shoulders strain against the chains. His hands pat down my sides with mechanical efficiency, then move to my utility belt. One by one, he empties the pouches - first aid supplies, lockpicks, a small flashlight, the protein bar I'd stashed for later. Each item gets tossed into a small pile beside me. He winces, and apologizes almost too quietly to hear, as his hands go to my chest. Okay, cool apology, dude, maybe next time you grope a minor's boobs you can just not do it in the first place. Maybe reconsider your life choices that led you here.

  "Nothing," he reports after an uncomfortably thorough search.

  "Check her helmet," the woman insists. "Could be built-in."

  Fridge Guy grabs my wolf helmet and yanks it off with zero gentleness. I grit my teeth as several strands of hair get pulled out with it. He turns it over in his massive hands, examining every inch before setting it aside with a grunt.

  "Clean," he says finally.

  "You really shouldn't have come here," Marathon says, crouching down to my level now that the search is complete. "Kids playing hero. You have no idea what you're messing with."

  "You recognize her at all?" Fridge Guy says.

  "No," Marathon replies. "No secret identity worth knowing. Damn. You really are just a kid?"

  Drop stares through me like she's struggling to recognize my face, illuminated in harsh chiaroscuro (a kind of art movement thing about high contrasts in lighting, or so Mom teaches me) by the gas station lights. I stare at her. She looks familiar, too, but I couldn't tell you where over the corpsepaint. That's what it's called, right? The white and black.

  "Enlighten me," I challenge, buying more time. Through the doorway, I catch a glimpse of movement on a rooftop across the street. Blink, taking position. Help is almost here. "On what I'm messing with, exactly."

  Marathon seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes his head. "Nah. Trade secret." He stands and turns to the woman behind me. "How long can you keep her like this, Drop?"

  "As long as I'm nearby," Drop replies with a tug that makes the chain tighten painfully around my wrists. "Carabiners will hold her 'til someone picks her up,"

  "Here's what's going to happen, wolf girl. We're going to walk out that door with our stuff. Your friends are going to stay back and not follow. You're not gonna report anything, and we'll let you leave here with your life and your dignity." Marathon lectures.

  "Generous," I mutter.

  "Better than the alternative," he shrugs. "Like the lady said, we could turn this place into a gallows real quick."

  While they talk, I'm slowly testing my bonds. The chain is wrapped tight around my wrists, linked to something else—probably one of the many chains Drop wears. I can feel the metal biting into my costume, but Amelia's reinforced fabric prevents it from cutting into my skin.

  "Time to move," Marathon announces, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. The laptop and whatever remaining Jump they managed to salvage must be inside. "Drop, you take point with the prisoner. We'll follow."

  Drop yanks me to my feet by the chain. I stumble but manage to stay upright, my head still swimming from the sudden movements.

  "Walk," she commands, pushing me toward the door.

  I take a step forward, then another.

  "So," I say conversationally as we approach the doorway, "ferrokinesis, huh? Pretty cool power. What's your range?"

  "Shut up and walk," Drop replies coldly.

  "Just making conversation," I shrug, deliberately slowing my pace to keep us from exiting too quickly. "Professional curiosity. One superpower to another."

  She shoves me forward impatiently. "Move."

  I see a glint on the nearby rooftop.

  I suddenly drop to one knee, as if losing my balance. "Sorry," I say, feigning disorientation. "Head rush. Being hung upside down will do that."

  Drop steps around me, irritated, yanking on the chain. "Get up--"

  In one fluid motion, I throw myself backward, away from Drop and the doorway. The sudden movement catches her by surprise, pulling her slightly off-balance - and directly into Blink's sightline.

  Something whistles through the air - a small marble fired from Blink's slingshot. It strikes Drop's outstretched hand with pinpoint accuracy, causing her to yelp in pain and reflexively release her grip on the chain.

  "Ambush!" she shouts.