A long silence stretched between us. Taylor still sat on my arm, quiet. I stayed just as still, lost in the vulnerable admission I’d made seconds ago.

  Taylor didn’t strike me as someone who opened up easily. She seemed like the reactive type—more likely to answer questions than volunteer anything on her own.

  So it caught me off guard when she was the one to break the silence. “I’m not scared of my power. But there are times when I feel frustrated with it. The fight with Lung. Bakuda. The way it makes me look.” She held a hand out and looked at it, moths fluttering from fingertip to fingertip, a cockroach and earwig crawling around the back of her hand.

  I had thoughts, plenty of them, about what she had said. But first, I had to check myself. There were still hot coals in my chest, flickers of roiling malice from just minutes ago. I thought back to Melody hugging me in the hallway, then telling me I was still deep on her shit list. I turned my thoughts to Taylor, and her reactions to the times I had attacked her in the confrontation earlier. She didn’t respond to physical threats with fear, but with anger. She’d been hit by the guilt trip of almost having killed me.

  Fuck me. A part of me still wants to hurt her for what she did, even knowing it wasn’t really intentional. But I think she’s already hurting. I’ve never wanted to connect with someone this badly and felt so constantly shut out. Let’s… just take this slow.

  “I heard that you all took Lung down. That’s crazy. He’s one of the strongest capes in the city.”

  “It wasn’t all of us.” She didn’t look at me when she said it. Her head dipped downward slightly, and one sneakered foot shifted on the concrete.

  “It was just me.” A pause. “I hadn’t joined them yet. I was alone.”

  She said it like the words tasted wrong in her mouth. Like the admission made her skin crawl.

  “It was me or him. I was going to die. I didn’t mean to go that far.”

  Wait. What? How?! That is insane!

  “Taylor, I’m… speechless.” She twitched.

  “You single-handedly took down one of the most dangerous villains in the city– Lung– with just your bugs?

  My voice caught. “That’s… I don’t even know what to call that. Amazing. Insane? Next-level.”

  But- wait. Hang on.

  “Who else knows? The truth, that it was you alone?”

  “Armsmaster,” she said. Her voice tightened around the name. “My team.” She nodded towards the blob of darkness in the corner.

  I let out a frustrated sigh, and for the first time since sitting down, Taylor twisted to look at me.

  “You know him.” It was less a question than a statement.

  “I do. Did.” I searched my brain for words that could untangle the snarl of feelings I had about Armsmaster. Colin. Half respect, half revulsion. A heaping helping of bitterness.

  Taylor studied the blank, inhuman not-face of my mask. I thought of dropping it briefly, but decided against it. Too soon after the betrayal, and right now, I was fully Apex.

  “...He’s an asshole,” I finally said.

  “How so?” she asked. I was starting to recognize that Taylor didn’t ask questions lightly. Every one of them had weight. A purpose. I suppose we shared that in common.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to build bridges here. Or if the others were even listening. But once again, I realized I didn’t care as much as I would have expected.

  “He’s self-centered. Cold. Detached. Manipulative, even.”

  I paused, thinking about what Dragon had said. The way people danced around criticism.

  “He’s career-obsessed, and not in a good way. Bad with people. Rude.”

  Another pause. “But… not entirely bad. He’s brave. Incredibly skilled. Not exactly leadership material, but he runs ENE well enough. Honestly, the same flaws that make him unbearable also make him effective.”

  Taylor pursed her lips in thought. When she next spoke, it was barely audible, even for my enhanced senses. “Do you trust him?”

  “No,” I whispered back. “Absolutely not.”

  I took a breath, bitterness bleeding through. “He’s the one who blocked my Protectorate invitation. Got me kicked out of the PRT entirely.”

  “Mm,” A noncommittal sound, low in her throat.

  Her questions made me wonder about her relationship with him. And I was certain that she had one. Armsmaster had ‘subdued and arrested’ Lung that evening, something the Wards and I were stunned and impressed by. But thinking back on it now, the announcement was grossly lacking in detail. Who would question the results of Lung in PRT holding?

  I’d stick that thought on the back burner for now. There was one other thing I wanted to talk to her about.

  “Taylor,” I said, and she looked up, her gaze pulling away from the bugs on her hand.

  I tried to think of a way to pass on the advice Dragon gave me. Something Taylor might actually hear, without brushing it off. “About your power. And mine, too. I had those same feelings. I talked to someone, one of the smartest people in the world. And she told me: appearance matters. But what you do with it matters more.

  My tail rustled softly on the floor behind us. “People judge quickly. The bugs, my body. But what sticks? What do they remember? It’s our actions.”

  I hadn’t forgiven her. I wasn’t sure I could, not yet. But I didn’t want to be the kind of person who let silence rot away what might have been. I try. That’s who I am. A hero, even now. Trying to find a path forward that isn’t just blood and pain.

  Her expression shifted, softening, and she opened her mouth to speak just as Brian and Lisa stepped out of the dissipating smoke. Their footsteps were soft, their presence heavy. The room changed. Taylor straightened from her slouch but remained sitting on my forearm.

  Whatever had just passed between us… it was gone now. Back to masks and politics.

  “Are we interrupting something?” Lisa asked, voice teasing like an edge, but this knife was already dulled on my hide.

  I ignored the barb, joke, whatever it was.

  “Sorry about the delay. We had a bit of a debate, and here–” Brian waved a crude tin foil envelope held in his hand. He unwrapped it and held out my phone like a peace offering.

  Right.

  I held my body perfectly still. Then, without a twitch or tell, a single tentacle slid forward and took the phone from his hand. Brian’s reaction told me everything: I’d hit the mark. I was in Apex mode. My goal was to unsettle, disturb, to make unease for villains. The complete lack of motion, followed by a tentacle slithering into his hand and taking my phone back?

  Oh yes. I need to experiment more. I want to be able to truly terrorize even the most hard-edged criminals.

  “Answers that question,” Lisa said dryly. I could tell the effect wasn’t lost on her, either.

  “We have a proposal,” Brian said to me.

  “How about you start with an apology?” I countered.

  “Morgan, I trul–” Brian started, and I cut him off.

  “Not you.” I lightly tapped Taylor on the crown of her head with a second tentacle. She flinched. “And not her. There’s guilt and remorse. I can smell it on both of you.” I lied.

  I think.

  I turned the same tentacle toward Lisa, straightening it like a javelin. “You, on the other hand…”

  Lisa went still.

  The nearly ever-present grin didn’t vanish, not immediately. But it froze, and her eyes flicked around sharply like she was watching something uncoil. Reading me, measuring temperature, weighing risks.

  Her lips parted. Closed again. Her brain must have been moving a mile a minute, probably with the help of her power, whatever it may be.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “You want a real apology.” It wasn’t a question.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I could have been inanimate.

  She exhaled slowly, then rolled her neck with exaggerated care. When she looked back, she wasn’t smiling.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Quiet. Flat. Real. Then, softer: “I pushed too far; you didn’t deserve that.”

  I watched her. No deflection. No spin. Just the words. My tentacle hovered in the space between us like a lingering question mark.

  “I get it,” she continued. “You’ve got every reason to be pissed. Really pissed. I misread you, glossed over things, and almost got you killed. Then I made it personal and turned it into a power play.”

  A pause.

  “That was ugly. I can’t take it back, but I can own it.”

  Brian blinked. Even Taylor looked over at her, surprised.

  A slow, heavy silence stretched.

  “I’m good at reading people,” Lisa muttered. Maybe to Brian, maybe to herself. “And I’m reading that if I tried to joke this off, spin it, redirect things… You’ll walk. Or worse.”

  I didn’t respond.

  She held her hands out to her sides at waist level, palms open. I could see the glisten of sweat on them. “So that’s me. Apologizing. No tricks, no games.”

  I nodded once, resolutely, and withdrew the accusatory tentacle, tucking it back into my updo.

  “Thank you,” I told her, and the heat and testiness were gone from my voice. “It means a lot to me that you committed.”

  I drew in a long, steadying breath and exhaled slowly. “Alright. What is this proposal?”

  Brian cleared his throat. “We want you to join us–”

  I snorted and kicked up a bit of dust in the process.

  He held up a hand, and I held my tongue: “Join us for an important meeting tonight. One we–” he purposefully looked over at Lisa, then back to me. “...think you will have quite an interest in, provided you can look past your initial reactions.”

  I wasn’t aware of any meetings, besides the one I had this afternoon with Faultline’s Crew. But okay, let’s play this out.

  I cracked my jaw open enough to extend a couple of feet of tongue and lick off some dust that had accumulated on the upper slopes of one of my eyes. Drawing it back into my mouth, I said: “Okay, what meeting? And if it’s so important, why am I only finding out about it half a day before it happens?”

  Lisa licked her lips and stepped forward to answer that. “This is the part you’re not going to like.”

  I sighed.

  I can already tell this is a fucking terrible idea.

  She continued: “It’s at a neutral ground location, a dedicated meeting spot for–”

  I want to facepalm right now.

  “For villains,” I said, finishing her sentence, my tone flatter than a sheet of printer paper. “...Which is why I haven’t heard a peep about it.”

  This is stupid. But she isn’t. She’s obviously some sort of thinker.

  My tail hissed along the floor with my agitation. “Fine. Spell it out for me, because I’m not getting the mental picture where this makes any level of sense.”

  Lisa raised both palms as if to slow me down. “I get it. On paper? Terrible fucking idea. You walk into a known villain meeting, and someone takes a photo? Your whole second chance goes up in smoke. I know the PRT rules better than most. They’re not going to ask questions. They’re going to burn you at the stake just to make a point.”

  She paused, watching me. Measuring.

  “But let me ask you something.” She stepped closer. “When’s the last time they gave a damn what you actually did? You saved people. Fought back. Took hits for the team. Still got canned.”

  My tail twitched.

  Lisa continued. “You’ve already been pushed out of the system. The only reason they haven’t slapped a label on you is because you haven’t made them mad enough yet. So yeah, you’re right. This could get you labeled. Or?”

  She smiled, not quite smug this time. Just sharp.

  “Or it could get you results. There’s going to be big players at this meeting. People with insight into the ABB, their movements, their next moves. Do you want to help? To hurt them where it matters? You come with us. You show restraint. You listen. Maybe you ask a question. No mask-drop, no powers on display. Just ears and eyes.”

  Her voice dipped into something just a little more serious. “We’re not asking you to throw in with villains. We’re asking you to use the access being offered and get something you want back from it.”

  Brian spoke next. “She’s not wrong. This could potentially be really bad for you. We don’t want to get you tangled up in any of our affairs. But consider this. The city’s already in a state of emergency. The army is patrolling the streets. People you know and care about are at risk right now. Don’t you want to hear what’s being discussed?”

  I mulled it over. This wasn’t an Endbringer event: no universal truce, no unity. But it was bad. The military was here. People were dying. Terror gripped the city. And there were precedents. Cities where heroes and villains had set aside their differences to protect civilians.

  It was plausible, maybe even probable, that should something get wielded against me, I could use those other precedents in my own defense.

  Reluctantly, I voiced this opinion: “There are incidents where there are states of emergency declared far out of the realm of normality where heroes and villains can work together without… serious repercussions.”

  Taylor turned to face me. She’d been her usual quiet self so far. She asked: “Maybe a slightly different perspective: if you did attend, and we did form a coalition to go after the ABB and Bakuda, wouldn’t you rather be present for those battles than absent?”

  She looked up at me, sharp, focused, that intensity once again back out in full. “Would you be content knowing people like Kaiser or Hookwolf were fighting innocent hostages forced to act against their own wishes because of Bakuda?”

  My wings buzzed, not really moving air, but vibrating in place.

  Fuck! Hookwolf. Kaiser. They wouldn’t save hostages, they’d turn them into examples.

  “No.” My voice was flat. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

  Lisa broke into that stupid-ass grin of hers. I’d roll my eyes if they weren’t buried under two inches of hard plate.

  “There’s a few things you should probably be ready for,” Brian cautioned me.

  “Assuming I’m going,” I said. He nodded.

  I sighed. “Go on.”

  “Two big things,” he said, counting on his fingers. “Probably more, but these are the big ones.”

  A brief pause. Maybe he was thinking of how he wanted to put it, or something.

  “The first is that you haven’t met the rest of the team yet, and they can be a little tricky.”

  “Regent doesn’t take anything seriously, and Bitch can be… confrontational,” Taylor offered.

  I thought for a moment. “I’m used to the first sort. Clockblocker and Kid Win are both jokers. The second? I’m not worried. If she tried anything, she’d probably just wind up hurting herself.”

  “Although… I wouldn’t want that,” I added.

  “She’s tough. And her dogs have torn through brutes before.” Brian said, and there was pride in his voice. I hated that I liked it.

  “Any of them weigh a few tons?” I asked, rows of teeth bared in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

  Brian blinked, glancing at me. “Okay, yeah, I get it. You’re big, but come on.” He gave me a look. “You’re not that big.”

  “Brian, she’s not just big,” Lisa said. “She’s got triple the limbs, a tree trunk for a tail, and she’s covered in organic tank armor.”

  Taylor knocked lightly on my forearm. The sound it made? Like tapping concrete.

  “And number two?” I asked the three of them.

  Lisa raised a finger in the air. “The real tricky part.”

  She started pacing. “You’re going to get called out. Put on blast. No way around it. You’re not just some unknown lurking in an alleyway. You’ve been joking around with the good guys on PHO. People are watching.”

  “Your maybe-hero status? It’s going to stand out. The villain crowd? Not exactly big on nuance. Lots of paranoia. Lots of ego.”

  She stopped and turned, dropping a fist into her palm: “You’re going to have to sell the fact you belong there. Hard.”

  “It’s neutral ground, no powers, no getting physical. Just attitude.” She flashed a grin. “You need to ooze evil. And while you’ve got some moves, they come off more spooky than villainous.”

  I wanted to argue. But she had a very good point. This wasn’t public relations. This wasn’t tactful and carefully groomed redacted statements. I was out of my league going into this, but I wouldn’t get a free pass sitting with a group. My form drew attention, and my status would be tossing fuel on the fire.

  I tapped a claw on the floor.

  I am walking into a lion’s den. I need to know where the walls are.

  “What’s the space like? Size, shape? Interior, exterior?” I needed to get some sort of a mental picture of what I’d be working with, or in.

  “Inside a small business, commercial building, hard floor, drop ceiling. Mixed seating, some open floor space. You should-yeah, you’ll fit through the doors, no issue.” Lisa answered.

  Threat displays, stancing, posturing… All would be heavily limited by the space. I’d be limited to words, my bulk, and maybe a small display or gesture.

  “This is not going to be easy,” I admitted.

  “No,” Lisa nodded. “It’s not.”

  “I mean, I’m trying to think of some kind of prop or stunt I could pull that wouldn’t just come across as a gimmick. What am I going to do, like, prowl in there wearing a severed head on a chain?”

  She blinked. “Okay. First off? Love the dark humor. Second? Ew. Third? No, still ew. Sure, that’s evil, but ‘serial killer’ isn’t the vibe that says let’s team up with this person.”

  “Not all of us have ominous swarms and smoke machines.” I snarked right back.

  I scratched a frowny face into the floor with my claw.

  “I’m not– I’m not saying this to be an asshole or crack jokes, but I can’t just go rob a bank this afternoon and then show up like, ‘Hey guys, freshly minted evil monster here.’”

  “I’m honestly stumped. Fighting’s out. Getting nasty is out. We’ve covered that. I don’t have a crime resume, or the desire to go make one with the limited time I have today. I don’t want to ride coat-tails, for the obvious reason we went over earlier, but also because that then fucks with your shit.”

  I went back to tapping. “Making threats is going to sabotage the effort, if not get me kicked out. I’m at a loss.”

  Lisa piped up first: “Okay, so maybe you’re not scary because of what you have done, but what you could do. Don’t posture. Don’t explain. Just watch. Let them fill in the blanks themselves in terms of what you’re capable of.”

  Brian’s contribution came off a little weak, but it was heartfelt: “You don’t have to fake being a villain. Look like someone who isn’t playing around. You’re tired of Bakuda’s shit, and you want in on the action.”

  Taylor was quiet, contemplative: “You can’t convince them you’re evil in this situation. Just convince them you’re dangerous and willing to act. If they think you’re pointed at their enemies, they might tolerate you.” Almost as an afterthought, she said: “Most villains don’t trust each other anyway.”

  Hm. I can’t convince them I’m a villain. Maybe I can convince them I’m not a hero, either.

  What’s my angle? What’s my edge?

  What does Apex do? What good am I if I can’t play this hand when the chips are down?

  I turned inward. Considered the shape of my power, not the surface effects, but the feeling of it. The presence inside my skull, present from the day my life changed forever. The pressure of the ocean. The voice of the sea. Whispers without words.

  Something vast. Titanic. Scale beyond reason. Mass and energy where numbers lost all meaning.

  Then I thought about myself: not who I was now, but who I needed to become.

  To be a leader.

  To be a symbol.

  A new name. A new shape. A second chance after being laughed off the stage.

  Those are heroic qualities. Maybe villainous, too. Either way, they required buy-in. Commitment. Clarity. And right now, I was a contradiction.

  Could I humble myself the way a hero never would?

  Could I reduce myself deliberately to a weapon or a tool? A monster on a leash?

  Yes, if that’s what it took to get in the room. To stop what was happening in the city.

  I am a monster.

  I don’t have to sell them on a villain identity. I don’t need a story, a resume, a manifesto. I don’t even need to pretend that I belong in their ranks.

  I just needed to make it clear what I can do, and that I’m willing to do it.

  For now.

  My tail curled, my claws flexing. My mask showed nothing, but inside, my thoughts crystallized into purpose.

  Let the others posture. Let them jockey for position. Preen and pander.

  I wouldn’t beg. I wouldn’t plead.

  Most villains don’t trust each other anyway. Taylor’s words.

  Let them wonder: if they pushed me out, would their enemies pull me in? I’d offer myself as a weapon, and dare them not to use me.

  I rolled my neck, eliciting some pops and crunches, and brought my mask down front and center on The Undersiders. I reached a tentacle out and tapped Taylor in the middle of her back, and she stood up from her seat on my arm.

  “I know what I’m doing now.” A simple statement.

  A moment of stillness in the space, and then Brian asked: “Well, care to share with us?”

  Lisa added: “We bring you. We let Apex walk into the meeting with the rest of us.” She leaned against a beam. “We’re sticking our necks out in a big way.”

  I responded to Brian. “The attendees of the meeting are heading into a war. Three known upper-tier capes. Dozens or hundreds of armed gangsters. Hundreds or more conscripts with their heads on the proverbial chopping block. A threat sufficient enough to warrant calling in the army.”

  I had their attention.

  I gestured one clawed human hand towards Taylor, giving credit where it was due: “Do you leave a loaded gun sitting on the table when you walk out into a warzone?”

  I shifted my head slightly, addressing Lisa: “You’re not vouching me in. You’re aiming me.”

  Brian raised an eyebrow. “Is that going to be enough?”

  A grin broke Lisa’s momentarily thoughtful expression. She snapped her fingers.

  I stood up, all twelve feet of me.

  Taylor didn’t speak, but I saw her eyes on me. We both knew she understood what I meant. What I was choosing.

  Lisa nodded. “Alright then, big girl. Let’s make some waves tonight.”