A choice to make, to engage or hang back. Enemies made, a kill-on-sight target. Doorways closing, only those nearby remain open. A gathering of bugs, stepping through to a rooftop in New York, Earth Bet. A fitting final staging ground, heavy with resources, unoccupied, a reminder of what’s at stake. Parahumans holding formation, a brief respite while Scion battles Endbringers in Gimel. * A chance to catch a breath, to plan. A risk of people talking themselves out, of trouble finding her. A lynch mob forming, clairvoyants, precogs, angry capes. The Faerie Queen, a threat. Puppets, past victims, those used to control. Lucky to have made it this far without chaos. * A refuge on a rooftop, a need to rest, to think. A husk, rotting from the inside. Damage done, a section of the brain swelling. A need to explain, to coordinate, to offer herself up. Deserving of a fate worse than death, but not equitable. A touch to the face, a mask removed, numb. A willingness to sacrifice, but nothing left to offer. * A strategy to communicate, to rally them. Mute, incomprehensible. A shift to the rooftop’s edge, bugs as a shield. Capes below growing restless, speaking in different languages. A shared experience of hitting Scion and seeing no effect. A saving grace, Scion hurting, reacting to the other being. A key reaction. * An awkward position, unable to act, unable to access needed capes. More enemies than allies, a war within, struggling against mind and body. Losing things, struggling for a point of reference. A monster, a fresh memory. Bullet ants, maggots, necrotizing flesh. A hero gasping, a means to save him withheld. * A female voice, kind words, halting. A return to violent thoughts, a trigger pulled, aftermath on pavement. A dance of bugs in lungs, limiting oxygen. A different way of killing. The voice again, patient, dissonance. A realization, a loss of portals, a loss of anchors. Degrading identity, uncertainty of reality. * The Faerie Queen’s warning, a need for something to hold on to. Searching for anchors. The dog girl, her pet wolf changed, staring at an empty space. A teammate with a phone, talking, typing, eyes roving. Unease, restlessness in the crowd. Breakdowns, tears, panic, support for others. A measure of resentment, alone, a freak, crazy, broken, unhinged. * No time, paralyzed until someone else moves. Disturbing the peace would rally them against her. Monsters and lunatics observed. The tentacle girl calming herself, a Birdcage cape pacing. A trio of furies, reveling in chaos, a critical blow possible. The Faerie Queen quiet, still, a puppet tracking. A message to communicate, an understanding of what to do. * Pain to focus, to bring closer to being herself. Scion killing Leviathan, pummeling, shattering. Glowing cracks, fury, heavy blows. Water flowing, steam, mist. Leviathan making contact, disintegration, more mist. The winged Endbringer firing, a blast of wind. The smallest Endbringer unloading powers, a blast, a crater. * Leviathan hunched, chest peeled open. Scion roaring, a sphere of golden light. Leviathan falling, crumbling. Taunted, teased, the one thing he wanted taken away. Attention turned to the winged Endbringer and her companion. The towering Endbringer damaged, the fat Endbringer healing in a time field. Scion doing too much damage. * The least of us, the smallest, having the biggest impact. Overlooked individuals, useless ones. A realization of what to do. Arguments breaking out, divisions forming around individuals who don’t play well with others. A man in gold and black armor shouting, drawing attention. A distraction needed. * A chute deployed, twenty stories down. Securing it with bugs. The faerie woman noticing movement, but holding back. Preparing to go down with the clairvoyant. A voice again, small, afraid. No flight pack with a passenger, descending the chute. Spider thread, a known thing, but a hesitant anchor. * An obsession with bugs, a possible dark path. A vision of herself, haggard, thin, bug-eating minions, barely human. Focusing on friends instead, the dog girl and the phone girl. Moving her way, calling out to a pair. Hesitation, a harsh word from the dog girl. A landing, not gentle, but uninjured. Moving towards them. * Losing track of people, how can they be anchors? Difficulty remembering who they are, why they matter. Meeting up with them, the portal creator and clairvoyant following. An eerie, empty city. A vision of ruined cities moldering, a sense of reassurance. A dangerous thought. * A tent in a strong wind, stakes coming loose. A broken giggle, a need to stay centered. A slur in thoughts, a chill. A soft voice, a help to keep moving. The others near, riding a dog. A grin, a hand raised, a greeting. A gulf between them. Arms spread, shoulders rising, falling. * The giant monsters are losing, Scion is coming. A start to walk forward, stopped by the blonde. A stark expression, arms spread, a repeated gesture. A voice heard again. Another person appearing, familiar, the source of the voice. Tears unbidden. A touch to the cheek, bleeding, a gouge. An accidental scratch. * Alone, but not alone. Isolated, but not isolated. A need to move on, damn the consequences. A word from the dog girl, attention caught. A chain heaved forward, landing between them. Advancing, the group backing away. The chain given to Doormaker, a parting. The importance of those dismissed. * Backing away, the chain reeled in. Walking him forward, out of range, into their company. The dog girl’s gaze, watching carefully. Pointing at her, then at bugs. Herself, then the dog. The portal man, a door, unsure. Power? His power not important, secondary. A touch to the mouth, then forehead. * A gesture towards him, a repeated combination. A line with bugs, pointing towards the crowd. The red-brown haired girl nodding. The blonde cutting her off, annoyed, hurt, but kind. Bringing the portal man to her, an arm through his. An understanding, a caring, a desire to be the one who communicates. * Not the only one who’d seen everything unfold. The portal man linked to the clairvoyant, a shared perspective. A way to communicate with him, to get clues, answers. The winged Endbringer falling, broken. The others too damaged to fight. Scion’s coming. A need to get into a fighting position. * A step forward, the others reacting. The auburn-haired girl moving her dog aside. The blonde not moving. The faerie girl turning her head, noticing movement. A realization of what she’s doing, dangerous, but so is Scion. Almost controlling her, moving her out of the way. Remembering she’s an anchor, one of the few remaining. * What does she become with her as the only anchor? Something close to human, at least? Saved her, in a way. Can’t touch her, doesn’t dare. A gesture with the phone, talking, a shotgun approach. Scion stepping into another world, finding his way. The Simurgh scattering sand, climbing to her feet, waiting. * Scion appearing in their world, chaos. People running, fighting. Glaistig Uaine glancing her way, joining the fight. Time to fight, gathering forces. Not an army this time. Breaking into a run, flight pack assisting. Seeing everyone, even in the dust. Collecting the first few encountered. The girl with the mangled hand and her partner. * A sharp right, around the perimeter of the fight. The faerie busy, but a threat. Others, but trouble keeping track. Brutes, hanging back. A woman covered in forcefields, protecting people. Passing them, a beeline for someone else. A tool needed to win. Climbing onto the stuffed lizard’s back. The clairvoyant’s hand bound to hers. * The stuffed animal climbing a ruined building. Dismounting at an opening. The girl with the ruined hand shifting, slumping. Reaching the highest point, an incoherent wail. A girl with flying armor descending, ready to help. Falling within power’s range, brought to her. Making her sing. * Think about courage, about moving forward. A song to convey the right meaning. Pressing the blue button, a video call. A mass at the center, pulses traveling to other nodes. A hit to the ground, the building swaying. The song playing through other phones. Strength, courage at a moment of weakness. * A woman throwing a phone aside, shooting it, opening fire on Scion. A focus on one target. Savvy enough to know something’s up. Moving, the armored girl helping to hold the clairvoyant. The other two uncoordinated, momentarily out of control. Carrying onward, adjusting course to keep them in range. * The one-horned woman who glittered with forcefields. Changing direction. The next group harder, advance warning. A pang of emotion, unable to name it. A girl rattling off words, numbers. Monstrous capes flanking her. Every second counting, no chance for hard numbers. A threat, reduced to numbers. Success, failure. * A focus on success and failure on a bigger scale. The forcefield woman sandwiching them, moving them forward. Leaving the stuffed lizard behind. Rapid-fire questions, one-word answers. A command, a ricocheting bullet. The forcefield woman down, crystals fracturing, a fall. The string keeping them together. * A fat, bald man blocking the way, a young man with orange skin and a tail. The young precog stepping forward, speaking a name. Her name? What was it? An I.O.U. if there ever was one. Crumpling it, head hanging. Stepping forward, into range. Pushed out, stumbling. Pointing. * A view of their other members. Scion struck, knocked into a building. The faerie hesitating, flying her way. No time for grace. The forcefield woman hauling the reality-warper, a boy with glowing hair. The remainder dropping into fighting stances. The precog crying out, negation. * Turning to go, recruits in hand. The faerie coming. Not fighting, setting things in motion. Accessing the reality warper’s power, creating a door, smashing it. A freestanding hole in reality. Two more, then two more. Protected with forcefields. A means of traveling sideways. * Not all the way to other continents, analogous movement. Ambushing other groups, using the clairvoyant to see. Keeping them focused on Scion with the song. Scion unprepared for a united world. Keeping him off guard, on unfamiliar footing. Hoping it’s enough. * Finding the boy who made hands and faces. A teammate, a friend. Collecting him, leaving. Setting up another forcefield, retreating through doors, leaving decoys. The power booster, enhancing the song, the reality warper, everyone. The girl who made dreams into projections. The boy who could turn anything into a bullet. * The man who could connect things, pinning her to a wall. His partner dismissing the illusion. A grave voice. The others behind her, a forcefield blocked. Threads binding him, biting deep. His cloak rigid, fixing him to the ground. Threads moving, recoiling. Extending the connection, pressing harder. * Staggering, the pressure letting up. A girl with a horned mask, pulling his robe, heaving him into range. Gone. All the individuals needed, a hunch about another. A larger group, moving her army into position. A doorway, the final piece. Changers. Changing their faces, seated on forcefields, bound. * Scattering them into the sky. Shaping a world with the reality warper. The portal man talking to Teacher. A power she’s afraid of taking. Afraid of losing willpower, of falling into his grasp, of finding out he can’t help. The portal man explaining, her brilliant friend connecting the dots. * A landscape of body parts. Using her friend to alter the city. Scion lashing out, demolishing the first face. The dragon-man taking advantage. No filters, his emotions raw. Tearing into her pet, permanent damage. Retreating above the skyline. Face to face with the changers. His companion’s face. * Moving to strike, getting them out of the way. Some catching on, others not. An attack on his mind, his emotions. Targeting that as his weak point. Strength we have, you do not, we deal with loss, pain. Reminding him of what he doesn’t have. His partner, his life cycle. * The world changing around Scion, piece by piece. A shift in their favor, more agitated. Approaching a critical point. Pulling the changers back, moving to masters. Projection capes, a few. The dream-projector, a clone-hybrid. Showing her what to do, sending her to work. The song helping, pushing them onward. * A leg giving way, failing. Helped to her feet, leaning on them. Her body failing. A retreat somewhere, after it’s all over. A good stockpile of books, a place in the middle of nowhere. Then it took reading. Then language. Then her body. Her mind sure to follow. * Projections haunting him, emerging from walls, creeping around corners. Images of his deceased partner, of others. Striking them down faster than they can be raised. The man in gold and black armor shooting his sword, buying time. Fury giving way to fear. A fear all too easy to fall into, a relentless torrent of negative experiences. * Fighting back, a fairly normal thing. Underestimating the tenacity of the fucked up. Lowly, to turn to this, but never pretended to be honorable. Going as far as she has to. Another doorway, back to their original Earth. A stuttering thought, paralyzed. Pointing at the portal. * A short, fierce discussion. Heartbeat picking up. Why aren’t they running? Scion’s going to snap, destroy everything. Her friend talking into the phone, tense. Scion more frantic, a mix of fear and rage. Panic? No longer reasonable. About to stop holding back. * Her friend continuing to talk, stern. The Endbringer arriving, singing. Shaping the environment, clouds of dust taking shapes. Reminders of what he’s lost, a loss he can’t handle. A member of a species that had won, bewildered by defeat. The winged Endbringer’s attack, the straw that broke the camel’s back. * Hunched over, shaking. A slit of light, yawning open. They fixed him. Except it wasn’t him. The faerie girl, a shadow-puppet. Her friend swearing, tense. Turning to run, fleeing into other worlds. Thousands of doorways. The faerie girl looking in her direction. * Nothing appearing nearby. The faerie girl opening doorways for everyone but them. Left on their own. Unable to close the portals. Running, zig-zagging between universes. No sound, no explosion. A scouring light, no direction, no aim. Passing through doors, expanding. * A forcefield flung forward, carrying them. Eased to a stop, out of range. Flatness and portals. A hand that can’t make the gesture. A hesitation on the faces of the others. Leading her squad forward. Finding the faerie queen, in the center of the rescued. * Walking, stopping in the middle of an open field. Watching. Scion recovering. The faerie girl talking. Long seconds passing. Banishing two spirits, keeping the portal man. Picking two others. Creating a doorway, kicking it open. Seizing her, the portal man. * Opening a doorway to Scion, capturing people. Finding the tinkers. Emerging, he doesn’t react. The dream-projector unconscious, captured. The garden-entity looming. Recoiling, striking at it. A feeble swarm, a reaching hand. A distraction, maintaining pressure. * Opening a doorway, finding one individual left behind. The boy with the changing faces. A dose focused on helping entities be human. Unable to change his face intentionally. Not having to. Scion’s reaction, hope. Registering as being like his companion. * The girl with the injured hand using her power on the iron rods. Infused with the energy he’s afraid of. Those rods becoming projectiles. His hope gone, bewildered, scared. Not trying to dodge, can’t or won’t. Impaled, one in the head, one in the chest. * The tinkers firing their weapon. An interdimensional ram turned into a gun. Concerned about the power. A glimpse into the world beyond him. The beam tearing into him, into the well. Moving the portals, scouring more of the landscape. The Faerie Queen slipping from her grasp. * Forcing her power to affect her spirits. Breaking free. Free, inside her radius. Turning to face her, meeting her gaze. Her head hung, no move to resist. Not closing the portals. More projectiles, opening more doors. The beam running out of power. * The dead remains of the entity showering the ground. Staggering, the emotion too much. Pushing people away, bumping into one another. Some leaving her range, only a handful remaining. Not recognizing a single one. Even the one holding her hand. * A feeling of betrayal, unsure who she is. Over. Free to finally lose her mind.