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It's been a week since Mechanika and the Red Lion rescued me from the nefarious clutches of the Wheel, and I'm surprised to find myself bored. The first few days were harrowing, lots of running and noise and violence. But it's been quiet since we landed at Mechanika's secret lair, and I've had some time to myself while my rescuers are busy tapping their resources to figure out why a nobody like me has such a huge fuckin' target on his head. I still have no clue why anyone would want me, but I've concluded a few things:

  1. Being a masked vigilante has never been at the top of my dream career list, and my experiences so far endear me to the lifestyle even less.

  2. A secret lair hidden underneath a doughnut shop may sound mysterious and exciting, but after three days of smelling old grease and burnt coffee while your well-meaning but hyper-focused hosts babble techno-magic nonsense around you, you get pretty tired of it.

  3. I could kill someone for a latte.

As I squat on the roof of the doughnut shop, watching the city lights rippling in the dark water below, I think back to the soporific days I spent as an underappreciated barista in Emerald's capital city. I'll be the first to admit that it wasn't much of a life, but at least I had decent coffee. It's dark on the roof, and I'm wearing a cloaking device Mechanika made for me, which obfuscates my physical and psychic presence. It's not quite invisibility, but combined with the security measures hidden on the roof, it's as good as. I'm perfectly safe up here, but I still feel a thrill for daring to poke my head out aboveground. Being wanted, even by a weird criminal organization I've only barely heard of while skimming the Links, is a bit of an novel experience for me. I went from someone whose main goal in life was to make rent, to hanging out with honest-to-gods super vigilantes. They're the sort of people I'm used to seeing on news feeds, and that the Emerald Coalition of Heroic Operations likes to release regular PSAs about. Cue catchy orchestral sting while the glowing face of Zenith herself speaks in deep, serious tones:

"We need YOU to uphold citizens' rights, and that includes reporting any acts of vigilantism not sanctioned by the Coalition."

But Mechanika and the Red Lion aren't really vigilantes so much as two little thorns in the ECHO's side for declining to join its fold. From what I understand, the coalition likes to collect powerful humans so that it can keep an eye on them while at the same time getting some use out of them as a convenient police force for special circumstances. Don't get me wrong; the ECHO does great work, mitigating catastrophe and saving lives. But whenever Heroes are deployed, it leaves a mark.

Come to think of it, the vigilantes do, too. Maybe the ECHO has a point.

Anyway, back to my story. I mentioned that this shady, clearly evil organization called the Wheel is gunning for me. From what we've found out digging through the dark alleys between Links, the Wheel seems to be working under the impression that I'm some sort of—I don't know—future-reading potential machine, or some kind of probability prophet? I don't fucking know; I'm a barista, not a metaphysicist. The point is, it's just off-the-wall batshit. Let me tell you right now, I've never told the future once in my life, not even as a joke. I have some weird powers, sure—more on that later—but they have nothing to do with clairvoyance. I guess these Wheel people don't hire fact-checkers, because one minute I'm blithely handing Mr. Gordie his drink—the next, shots and screams and a couple of beefy assholes in black are trying to manhandle me into their getaway boat.

If I had psychic powers, wouldn't I have known this would happen and called in sick? And anyway, what kind of ego-tripping idiot tries to snatch a random barista in broad daylight? They could've abducted me from my bed, and literally no one would have noticed I was gone. Boom, easy.

Well, okay. My manager might have noticed if I didn't show up for my shift. And Mr. Gordie, my favorite regular. At this point, I don't give a shit about my manager (she probably fired me the minute she realized I was gone, and without even giving her notice), but little old Mr. Gordie? I really hope he's all right. I hope his triple caramel mocha with extra whip survived--he can be a real mean bastard when he hasn't had his daily mega-dose of sugar and caffeine.

Where was I...? Right, those Assholes in Black had me shoved halfway across the gangplank when Mechanika and her dad (that's the Red Lion; bet you didn't know that, did you?) swept in like two avenging Heroes and saved the day. At first, I thought they were more baddies come to kidnap me. There's been a lot of bad press recently around some vigilantes who are more, shall we say, mercenary than altruistic, selling their skills to the highest bidder. And I didn't recognize them—Mechanika and the Red Lion aren't really active on Emerald. I think I can be forgiven for my actions when Mechanika, in her gleaming gold robotic suit, fell out the sky like a lightning bolt and snatched me up before anyone could react. As we went up and up, I shrieked, flailed, and did my best to be a nuisance while the A. I. B. tried to shoot her down with way more guns than are clearly allowed in a public canal. She says she doesn't hold it against me that I managed to put a dent in her armor.

To be honest, I never even knew I could do something like that. Because up until that moment, I thought all my so-called "super powers" amounted to was being able to switch my sex. Yeah, that's right, my literal, physical sex. Not at will, mind you; that would be too much to hope for. I seem to switch according to the whims of the universe, usually to my mortifaction. Maybe I was a little stronger when I was male, and a little faster when I was female, but it was never enough to register higher than E-class in the special abilities roster back in school. (Don't even get me started on the salt I harbor re: the special abilities roster).

"But Pax," I hear you say, "how could you possibly not know that you were strong enough to dent highly specialized titanium alloy with your bare fist?"

Friend, please consider that the highest level of excitement in my life up to this point was causing my high school basketball team to lose against our top rivals because I tripped into my teammate, who was lining up the winning shot. Since then, I've been making espresso on the daily, which, aside from the occasional growly customer, isn't exactly a strenuous activity.

"I'm saving your ungrateful ass, you fucking dweeb," said Mechanika. "Quit squirming or I'll drop you like a hot turd."

The twanging familiarity of earthy, high-school insults, modulated through a shiny gold mask like a snarling lioness, managed to shock a little sense into me and I stopped struggling long enough to realize we were a good thirty feet above sea level, and rising. Below I could see a massive fireworks show as another figure wreathed in red flames darted around like a gnomish wizard, knocking down the A. I. B. The Red Lion, of course, though I didn't know it at the time. I was too preoccupied to Link, and anyway neither of them have public profiles. And then he made a rough gesture, and the boat exploded.

"Holy fuck!" I squawked, my ears throbbing from the boom of the exploding boat. Shrapnel and canal water whizzed past and I squawked again.

"Time to go," said Mechanika.

Before I knew what was going on, a portal opened up and we flew through like it was no big deal. Y'all, personal portals are expensive. Between that and the impressive golden suit, I was starting to get the idea that vigilantism paid pretty well. Moments later, the Red Lion flew in wreathed in red glory, his neatly bearded face creased in a manic grin, the noise of havok in his wake. Then the portal shut with a snap, leaving us in a dimly lit room. My ears rang with the sudden silence.

"Well, that was quite the fracas," said the Red Lion, his voice suprisingly loud and booming coming from such a slender old man. He patted out a few flames that were dancing on his sleeves and stowed a really antique looking book into a specially made holster. "Nothing like a spot of mayhem to kick off the weekend. How is our guest?"

"He ruined my chestplate," Mechanika grumbled. With a touch she removed her helm and grinned at me, the puckish expression uncannily like the Lion's. "No big deal. Hey, how's it going. Why were those Wheel jerks trying to abscond with you?"

I opened my mouth but only a creaking noise came out. Suddenly it all seemed to much to me and my head went fuzzy.

"Oh dear," said the Red Lion, and somehow there was a chair scooting under me. I flopped into the hard seat, my knees feeling like water. "I know that look. First time under fire?"

At once Mechanika's face softened as she took in my public profile through the Link. "Aw, kid, you're just a civvie. What the hell were those bastards after?"

"Fuck if I know," I warbled. I choked on an inappropriate laugh and nearly broke the chair arms when I gripped them. Thankfully, the splintering noise was startling enough to forestall my devolvement into manic giggles, but it was a close thing.

"You're a super?" the Red Lion murmured, quirking his eyebrows high. "That's not on your profile."

"Not really," I stammered. "Well, kinda. Only E-class." I didn't feel up to explaining my switching ability, not when I was still reeling from what had just happened. I don't think I've ever broken a chair before, but I was under a lot of stress.

I guess they understood, because after that, the two of them treated me a little like I was an injured animal, all slow movements, open hands, and soft voices. After introducing themselves as vigilante knowledge seekers, they hustled me out of the portal room and into someplace a little more homey, though still clearly a bunker. Mechanika fussed over me and treated my injuries (minor), while the Red Lion made some of the best waffles I have ever tasted in my life.

As I ate, they took turns explaining the Wheel to me.

"Think of them as evil spiritual supremacists who think the Holy Ghost is something to catch and eat to get super powers," Mechanika said.

"A bit simplistic, but that about sums it up, yes," said the Red Lion. "We've had more than our fair share of run-ins with them, and assumed they were after us."

"We're on each other's shit lists," Mechanika added with a humorless grin. "Don't need an excuse to beat the ever-living hell out of those nasty Wheelies."

"But why were they after me?" I asked, bewildered.

"I'm about to find out," she said. "I've got contacts, and I've already put out queries. Whatever the Wheel are up to, you can bet your ass it isn't good for anyone else."

"Meanwhile, I'd best respond to these nagging messages from the ECHO," said the Red Lion with a long-suffering sigh.

Mechanika smirked and patted his shoulder. "Thanks for taking one for the team, Pops."

"Yes, well, next time it's your turn."

Soon enough, thanks to Mechanika's contacts and a little digging among the Links, we learned that I'm supposed to have some mystical future-telling ability, which—yeah, after I told my rescuers about my actual powers, they agree it doesn't make any sense. The Red Lion said something about it possibly being a case of mistaken identity. But the really bad thing is that the Wheel seem convinced enough to put out a lot of money for my capture. I was pretty upset about that, as you can imagine. At first I wanted to go to the ECHO, but in the end the Red Lion convinced me that it would be safest for me to lay low until they learned more about what the Wheel wanted with me. The ECHO may be powerful, but it's anything but subtle, and considering how the Wheel just went for me, staying hidden definitely sounded like the better option. It sounded even better when I saw on the news that my flat was blown up, even after the Red Lion told the ECHO what was going on and to be alert. Soon after that, the bunker was attacked and we had to run for it, Mechanika cursing the entire time. I don't think she repeated herself even once.

After that, we came here to the secret lair. I have to admit that it's way more comfortable and better fortified than the bunker was, but for some reason I don't feel safe. As I sit on the rooftop, taking in the scenery, I ponder that. Mechanika and the Red Lion are two very capable people. The ECHO has its Heroes on high alert. It's been three days, and all's quiet on the waterfront. Best case scenario, I think, the Wheel will have realized their mistake and moved on, and I'll be able to go back to my old life, doling out sugar and caffeine to the needy.

Yeah, sure, and tomorrow I'll wake up as the president of the world.

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