2

I’m lurking on the roof of the doughnut shop, staring out at the multicolored city lights, wishing for a latte and feeling sorry for myself—when what should my little eye spy but a lean, dangerous figure on a neighboring building? I swear to you, that roof across the canal was totally empty two seconds ago. I suck in a breath, feeling my body go stiff, because even in the gloom I can recognize his outfit, jet black and cowled with a distinctive red bird mask—it's Carrion Crow, the most infamous and bloodthirsty mercenary on the feeds.

I duck down, because I'm only about 60 percent sure he can't see me. (Sorry, Mechanika, I'm sure your magitech is awesome, but it's Carrion Crow, even I've heard stories.) For about thirty seconds, I have a nice little panic attack, complete with nail-biting and internal screaming, because I just know he's been sent for me, and that he's been contracted to kill me. Eventually my common sense reasserts itself, and I remember that I'm supposed to be the prize. He's probably been contracted to kill my new friends, not me.

That, I am even less okay with.

I sneak another peek, but Carrion Crow is still standing there, looking at the doughnut shop, maybe directly at me. I gulp. One week of hiding out with a couple of vigilantes is nowhere near enough to mentally prepare me for something like this. I waste a few more precious seconds wishing I really was clairvoyant; maybe then I'd know what to do.

Idiot, I say to myself. I know what I need to do, right the fuck now. Scraping together what little courage I've got, I beat feet back downstairs. I practically blaze through the secret lair, faster than I've ever gone before, thanking the universe that today I woke up female, and therefore quick.

I find Mechanika in seconds, ensconced in her lab with her current tinkering project.

"CarrionCrow'sontheroofandhe'sgoingtokillyouIshouldneverhavestayedIshouldhavegonetoPyropeorfuckin'Asteroid453thisisallmyfault--"

Mechanika clamps a hand across my flapping jaw before I can get even more worked up. "For fuck's sake, slow down. Carrion Crow what now?"

"He is on the roof, across the canal," I enunciate, trembling with the effort of going slow.

"Shit nuggets." She swivels back in her chair and taps a rune stencilled on the desk. I don’t see anything, but she frowns, staring into the middle distance. “And of course he’d be just out of range of the proximity fence.” She taps another rune and a golden ring scintillates to life. "Hey, Pops. They found us, and they sent Carrion Crow."

"Damn," the Red Lion's voice echoes through the... speaker, I guess that is. I'd have called it a mini-portal filled with glowing goo. "Damn, and damn again. Well, with the size of the bounty, we did expect he'd come calling sooner or later."

"How the fuck did he find us so fast?" Mechanika says. "It should have taken a week, at least. What do you think? Trap him?"

"That’s our best option if we wish to remain nonlethal. My dear, my spell isn't quite ready. I”ll need a few more minutes."

"No worries, Pops. I'll get my end of the containment field set up, and you can plug your spell in as soon as it's done while I run distraction."

"Good enough. I guess we'd best get it over with. Waiting for his move could be deadly."

"Roger that." Mechanika taps the rune again, and the tiny portal dims back into a simple ring. She grins brightly at me. "Ready to strut your stuff, Switch?"

I freeze mid-fidget. We've been preparing for this since our flight from the first hideout, but I find myself turning into a popsicle. The plan is to pretend I'm another vigilante, a casual friend to the magic duo. But I can’t just pull on a mask and call it a day. To really sell the deception, I needed an actual persona. Mechanika called in a favor and got a friend to hack my profile to make it look like I'm a small time vigilante who’s been active a few years, complete with tip jar and a couple of fake reviews.

Meanwhile, between bouts of painful self-defense lessons and testing the extent of my abilities, Mechanika and I brainstormed alter egos. She suggested things like Twofold Mystic, or Secret Strength, but nothing really fit. I switch; that's all I do. I've never felt like much of a super anything, and I’ll be the first to admit that acting is not part of my skillset. I worry that despite everything, I'll still look like nothing more than a civvie in a mask.

"Hey, earth to Switch. You still here?"

I blink. "Sorry, yeah."

Mechanika grins encouragingly at me. "Better go suit up, buddy."

I try not to whimper.

"It'll be all right," Mechanika says, patting my arm. "You're not going to be out there, fighting and getting hurt. It's just to protect you and your real identity, in case something happens to me and Pops."

"That doesn't reassure me," I say, thinking of the sinister form of Carrion Crow looking right at me, but I go suit up.

While the two mages do their thing over a heap of artifacts and techy castoffs, I wiggle into my suit. Mechanika’s right; even this off-the-rack suit will protect me better than plain old shirt and trou. And after seeing my face plastered all over the Links for the past week, the mask is almost a relief.

Each time I wear it, I'm surprised by how comfortable it is. It makes me feel different—better, even. I know the suit itself is nothing special, but Red Lion tweaked the aesthetics to fit into the "Switch" persona, color blocking it with black and white, with a full mask that's surprisingly breathable. I can almost believe I’m the real deal.

As I finish tightening the belt, I notice something new. There is a large flat gemstone in the center of my chest, weirdly flexible, about the size of my palm. It doesn't reflect light so much as exude its own dull glow, the color impossible to describe. It reminds me of how the insides of my eyelids look when they're squeezed tight, if that makes sense.

"What's this?" I ask, as the mages finish gearing up.

The Red Lion's face lights up. "A focus gem! I didn't even know we still had one."

Mechanika looks smug. "I found it in storage last night while I was hunting for hex screws. Switch, you can't swap between your powers consciously. It only happens in your sleep, right?"

"Right," I say, nonplussed.

"Well, I figured that hey, maybe it's just a matter of getting your brain tuned in enough. You know how every super power is basically just a unique mutation of psychic talent combined with unusual physical ability?"

"Uh, no, I didn't know that."

Mechanika pauses, as if debating whether now is a good time to launch into a lecture about the mysteries of the human brain, then waves it away. "Never mind. The point is, the crystalline structure of that gem is specifically designed to tighten and amplify brainwaves so that you can more easily control psychic phenomena."

"And that means...?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, my gawd. Just—try switching, right now."

"You know I can't—"

"Just try!"

I don't even know how to start. I've never switched while conscious, ever. What's it even supposed to feel like? After a moment of standing there stupidly, while Mechanika stares lasers at me, I close my eyes. I feel better in the darkness of my own thougts.

Okay, I tell myself. You know you've done this before, lots of times. One and a two and... switch!

I twitch with the force of my thought, but nothing seems to happen. I switch tactics, remembering the visualization techniques my dad tried to teach me, way back when we were still talking, and I first started changing. I do my best to imagine how my body feels when I wake up switched. My body is female right now; so I contemplate the differences in my arms and legs, my chest, my voice, and yeah, my dick—

It never worked, and my dad eventually gave up in disgust. But this time, I feel something. A shivering, wobbling sensation, as if I can feel the planet spinning under me, faster and faster as we hurtle through infinite space, multiplying over and over until I'm dizzy with possibility—

The dizziness fades, leaving behind a weird warmth, a buzzing in my head. Mechanika lets out a whoop.

"I fuckin' knew it! You just need practice, my dude, and that focus gem is gonna help."

I open my eyes and stare down at myself in amazement. "I—I did it?"

"Yes you goddamn well did! Now do it again. C'mon, switch!"

I squeeze my eyes against the dizziness, but I do it. I switch again, feeling the universe revolve around me.

Mechanika crows like she's the one who's been wanting for years to be able to control her powers.

"Yes! How does it feel?"

"It's, uhm,” I pause, trying to parse my emotion. “It feels easy?" To be honest, it's a bit of a let down. All those years of struggling, trying and failing to control my ability, when all I needed was a hunk of weird crystal!

Some of that must show on my face, because Mechanika sobers a bit. "Remember, using a focus gem is gonna tire out your brain, and fast. The more you use it, the more you're going to need to sleep, or risk putting some major stress on your brain. The gem's also gonna burn out, and let me tell you, they ain't cheap."

There's a nasty, sinking feeling in my chest that ruins the dizzy elation of switching. "Mechanika, you've already done so much for me, I can't really afford—"

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't matter." She grins at my discomfort. "Think of it as a thank you for bringing the Wheel to us. As long as we have you, we'll always know where the Wheel's headed."

I'm not sure that makes me feel better. "You're welcome, I think?"

Her smile turns bloodthirsty. "Enough chitchat. Let's go catch us a merc. See you in a sec, Pops."

The Red Lion doesn't look up from where he's chanting over a sheet of parchment as we head up to the roof. At the access door, Mechanika takes a moment to commune with the security feeds, before letting us out. Everything seems quiet, ominously so. The figure on the roof is right where I left him, still facing the doughnut shop.

"There," I whisper, pointing gingerly over the barrier around the roof. As I do so, I see him make a motion that looks very much as though he took a bite out of something in his hand. I bite my tongue before a nervous giggle escapes. I'm over here shitting bricks, and he's snacking.

"I see him," Mechanika murmurs, barely audible through her helmet. Crouching down, she starts setting up some mystical device that looks, to my untrained eye, like a jump chess set, only with little flames of arcane light instead of glass marbles. A smell like burnt cinnamon permeates the air.

If I wasn't so damned scared, I'd be feeling pretty excited. While the focus gem on my sternum feels a little like a sign shouting shoot here, even I have to appreciate the thematically appropriate way that the black and white areas on my suit slowly morph as I wait. The areas that are white turn black, and the black parts bleed into white, over and over. Gotta appreciate the old man's flair for the dramatic. Bonus points for breaking up my shape, which hopefully makes it harder to notice that my sex changes. I don't know how easy it is to find the details about my particular ability, but I'm of the opinion that the less anyone knows, the better.

Compared to Mechanika, though, I look pretty boring. Clad in gold and blue armor that positively crackles with power when she really gets going, with the lion on her helm snarling disdainfully, she looks sleek and otherworldly. Even the Red Lion looks incredible, with his classic wizard aesthetic of red and blue robes covered in handstitched arcane embroidery. The floating doesn't hurt. I cannot believe I'm standing here right now, as a vigilante ready to take on evil, even if it is just an act.

I really, really hope Carrion Crow doesn't kill us all. I nearly cry thinking about it.

Soon enough, Mechanika makes a satisfied noise and sits back on her heels. "All right, Switch. Slight change of plans. Unless one of us can play escort, you stay put and keep your engines revved. But, if this all goes belly-up, instead of the east side hideout, I want you to take off for Mama Mia's."

"The... flatbread counter?"

"Yes. I can’t be sure we haven’t been compromised. Ask for Jennie, tell her Angie sent you. She'll keep you safe. Got it?"

I nod, a little distracted as my gaze is caught by movement from Carrion Crow. He's still on the roof, but now he's waving his arms in the air. Is he trying to semaphore with a gun? "Jennie, right. Um, do you see—"

Red Lion appears, literally out of the thin air. That flair for the dramatic again. He has a scroll in one hand, open. The other hand fans the ink.

"Great timing, Pops. Just set it in the center there."

He does so, allowing the parchment to curl gently. Almost immediately it begins smoking around the edges; the cinnamon smell intensifies. Mechanika makes a triumphant noise and does something with the symbols on the side of the device. The device--folds up, is the best I can describe it. The corners go the center, and go again, until all that's left is a small polyhedral object that glows faintly.

"Wow," I say.

Mechanika beams. "Now all we have to do is pop this baby on the merc."

"Would you like me to play decoy this time?" asks the Red Lion—a little eagerly, I think.

"Sure, if you'd be so kind."

He nods and begins muttering and waving his hand in an intricate pattern. With a soft puff, another me pops into being, as I normally look without the costume, even down to the slightly rumpled cafe apron and scuffed shoes. I gawp, as my image winks.

"Bait," the Red Lion says, succinctly. And he's off.

"Ready?" Mechanika says. Her gold armor catches the meager light of the street lamp and reflects it. Her eyes gleam under her helm.

She looks bad ass. And me?

"Nope," I say. I look over the barrier again. Carrion Crow is waving at the Red Lion. He's shouting something, but I can't make out the words. "What's he saying?"

More shouts ring out before she can answer, and we both glance up in time to see an iconic fireball burst above us. Mirror-me clings comically to Red Lion's cape, making terrified faces and generally hamming it up.

"Oop, gotta run."

"Wait!" I yell, but it's too late.

Mechanika zooms away on a stream of barely visible blue light, her golden armour becoming muted under the light cloaking spell she's activated. All I have to do now is sit and twiddle my thumbs, while my friends go risk their lives for my measly existence. All because of some stupid mix-up by some evil group too stupid to fact check.

I watch anxiously as Carrion Crow does some incredible flips to dodge a roaring fireball. He's still shouting something, but I still can't tell what he's saying--it sounds like he's got something in his mouth. A gunshot ricochets through the air, and I nearly swallow my tongue. The bullet pings a harmless spark off Mechanika's armor. She winds up to throw--the device winks through the night air--

It's all slow-motion. Carrion Crow is waving his arms around, weapon in one hand—smoke curls around him where the fireball scorched the roofing—the device lands at his feet—

Fwoom! The trap engulfs the mercenary in a deceptively fragile bubble. The scent of cinnamon flares through the air--and, weirdly, burritos?

The merc is caught, without a drop of blood shed. I jump up and down and cheer and pump my fists, like an idiot.

Because, as it turns out, Carrion Crow was shouting for a reason.

Gunfire erupts from the alleys as people in dark uniforms swarm out of the shadows. It looks like hundreds to my panicked gaze, but it's probably more like thirty. Still, that's a lot of mean folks toting big guns. Red Lion rolls through the air like a dogfight veteran, his cape coming alive with a protective flame aura while my illusion double clings to his back like a terrified monkey. Mechanika gains new dents and marks in her armor under the deadly rain. She dives for cover, her cloaking spell shivering apart. I guess a lucky shot must have damaged the device attached to her waist. I swear I can hear her cussing all the way over here.

Carrion Crow, meanwhile, tries shooting his way out of his magic bubble. I watch just long enough to see the bullets spark against the impervious walls, immediately followed by dark liquid spray—oh shit, oh god, is that blood? My stomach does an unpleasant wobble, reminding me of my regretful decision to have that shitty coffee after supper.

"Omygod, omygod..."

I duck down and debate my options. The smart thing to do would be to hightail it out of there, per Mechanika's sparse instructions, to the flatbread counter (of all places). But I can't just leave my friends in a deadly ambush! It’s my fault they’re in trouble to begin with.

Besides, I'm not a complete idiot. I do a quick scurry around the roof, which confirms my fears. They have the doughnut shop surrounded. It's only a matter of time before they storm the place, if they haven't already. The security measures are all well and good, but it won't hide me long from people already inside, and I don't trust my speed to get me past so many people without getting caught. There's nothing for it.

Still mumbling an inarticulate stream of desperate prayer, I switch.

***