My mom drives me back from Naval Brigade on Saturday afternoons with this distant expression, like she's working out if she should be encouraging me or not. On one hand, friends. On the other, it's nerdy garbage that won't get me into college. On the first hand, her son is happy. On the other, he's still a failure. On one hand--

"Your father got a promotion," my mother says.

"Congratulations," I say. "I mean, um, congratulations to him. What do adults even say when you get a promotion?"

"Congratulations is fine," Mom says. "He'll be around more. It's going to be good for all of us."

"Shouldn't a promotion mean he's around less, not more?"

"He's been making record speed on his work," she says, her voice tinged with concern and her eyes straight on the road. "Twice as much, half the time. He says we'll finally have enough money this summer for that Disney vacation we've been meaning to take since the two of you were eight."

I immediately think about what my team would do if I were gone, even for a week. Will we still be doing missions in summer? I can't imagine not doing them anymore, even if the alternative, that being that Ignatius is still out there, is significantly worse. The team will need me... I hope they need me. Shiloh will need me to dictate for the others, at the very least, right? Then there's the whole issue of keeping everyone on good terms, and someone should probably be there for Amanda, not that I don't trust Karen, but not that I do, not necessarily-- "Maybe next year? I don't know if um... if we have enough time to reserve everything for Disney. Everything fills up months ahead of time, right?"
"You don't seem that enthusiastic," she says.

Neither do you. "Good things are worth waiting for, right?"

She laughs. "I don't think that's the right application, but otherwise, good advice, Will." We pull into the driveway and exit. I'm thinking about the mission this afternoon and nothing else. I can feel all my senses angle towards the nearest portal, but we walk right past it. My mother has her hand on my head, and she ruffles my messy hair even further. I can see the ghost of a smile reflected back at us in the mirror.

What's bothering you so much?

The house smells like cinnamon. My mother closes her eyes and breathes in. "Is someone cooking something?"

I walk into the kitchen. Adam Rosenbloom is standing over a batch of cookies, rolling another set of dough balls and sprinkling them with cinnamon. He looks ridiculous in any kind of domestic situation, primarily owing to the omnipresent scowl. It shouldn't be legal to cook anything while frowning. It makes the food self-conscious.

"What are you doing?" Mom asks.

"Just... cooking something for Mr. Gray, down the street," he shrugs. "Figured I'd make some for my teachers, too, to butter them up. If anyone else you know wants cookies, they can have some. Maybe I just wanted to bake something." I know the look he's giving us. It's the aversive one. He intended to be done long before we got here.

Mom smiles. "Well, if you need help with those cookies, I'm sure Will can help you. I'm going to grab a shower. You boys try not to burn the house down." She pats me on the back as she leaves.

"I don't need any help," he says.

I linger anyways.

"If you're going to make a comment about me cooking, which you are, judging by the smug smile on your face, you can leave, Will."

"I wasn't," I say.

"Mhm."

"Adam, are you doing alright?"

"Will," Adam says. "Come on. I don't need everyone in the house watching over my mental health like feral vultures circling a carcass."

I look aside. "Okay, maybe I'm projecting."

"Not doing that great?" he asks.

I say, "Well," and try to think of something in my life that's going well. It's surprisingly easy, but the first thing to mind, which is uncurated, slips out. "I think my anxiety's getting better."

"Cool," Adam says.

I look at him. "Cool?"

"I don't..." Adam spreads his hands out. "I have no idea how to answer you sometimes. I'm supposed to be happy for you, right? I'm happy, I just don't know what I'm supposed to say to that. Can you please just let me make cookies?"

"At least you admit you're callous."

"Wh--" Adam puts down his spatula. "Shut up!"

I flinch.

"Damn, you're so sensitive," he mutters.

I don't need to shake this time. I don't need to start apologizing for something that isn't my fault. I definitely don't need to cower for old times' sake before he gets legitimately angry. Sometimes I wonder what the world must look like through his eyes, and I'm distressed that I couldn't tell you, despite living with him for years. Sometimes I remember that I don't have to take anything from him and I feel strong before I feel impossibly lonely. "I should probably go."

"Hey, don't. I might burn the next batch," he says.

"Without me? Yeah, I don't doubt it." I say. "Going on a walk. Don't look after me."

I think he does, but he can't know that around the corner of the garage is a little portal, just small enough for the shorter twin to walk through.

I arrive in my full outfit and see the others already on guard. They look tenser than normal. "Time to invade private property?" It's not my voice. There's too much cock-sure sass in it. Maybe that's just what I want out of the suit, and it provides. I definitely feel stronger already.

"You'll be invading public property, actually," Shiloh informs us. "I wouldn't usually ask you to do something of this manner, especially because it poses a greater risk of your abilities being recognized, but fortunately it should be deep enough in the park that no one should see you. There's a large swathe of public land in the area behind Ignatius's lair, which borders a stream which drains onto a river. At present, it would appear some tree creatures are attempting to cross the river. I have no idea why, but I can assure you that they'll be sighted soon, and may cause public concern alongside whatever private intention they were created to fulfill."

"So we're back in the park, like Amanda and I were when--" I pause.

Amanda finishes, "When I almost burned the forest down."

"Bringing a lightningrod in isn't what I'd call a safe move, either," Karen says.

"I'm going to trust you all will find some creative way around shortcomings of your powers," Shiloh says, with a little sigh.

"We definitely can," Karen says. "Ready to roll out, team?"

"That's my line," I tease.

(In all honesty, she would be a better leader than me, anyways.)

The portal leads us up to the side of the river, which is not the bank but rather a sheer cliff a good distance above it. There's a smaller bank below, but we're not getting down there unless we brought material for rock climbing. The air is so cold it barely has a scent, but I can still make out earthen tones and the stench rivers carry with them. Beneath the suit, which is toasty like a jacket and fits twice as well, my blood roars like wilder waters, preparing for the thrill of the fight.

Unfortunately, it would appear that our opponent is somewhere down below us on the river, so it's going to be less of a fight and more of a chase. I hadn't really missed the tree-beasts, but here they are for an encore, a herd of them swimming away from us across the waters. "Do we come to it, or does it come to us?" I ask.

"We can't fight it in the river," Tesla says. "If I fry it in the river, we are going to kill every fish within a mile."

"Phantom, how large can you make your portals?" I ask.

The Phantom Loop squints over the edge, squatting just within range of falling over. "Should work," he says. "Been practicing."
"Great, because we're going to play baseball," I say.

"Oh no," Tesla says.

"Hell yes," CMYK says. "Purple paint?"
"That's force paint, right?"
"Yep. Are we talking smash-them-to-the-other-bank, or smash-them-to-the-river?" she asks.

"River. That should put out the fire," I say. "If there's any problem with flammable tree matter."

Tesla cracks her knuckles. "I think I'm picking up what you're putting down. Where does that leave you?"
"With useless powers, a metric ton of anxiety, and an entity of supposedly benevolent intent guiding my every action, to compensate for my incompetence," I say.

Tesla surveys me with firm disappointment. "I don't think Shiloh came up with that, right now."

"I think the trees are going to get to the other side of the river if we stop for a feelings talk, as much as I agree with Tesla," Phantom says. "Maybe we should try to... I don't know, hustle?"

"This isn't over," Tesla warns me.

I shrug. Technically, we haven't even started yet. Phantom opens a portal and an unprecedented amount of river water cascades down, the lot of us moving backwards to avoid being washed over the cliff. The first of several tree beasts looms above us. It's unbound from any kind of roots or energy source, and the design is much cleaner, much more streamlined, than before. It paws the earth, charges at me, and receives a shield to the face. Seconds later, when I've pushed it off my person using strength I didn't know I possessed, it gets a lightning bolt to the back.

Then it gets kicked off the cliff by a flash of purple paint. A lump of plant debris the size of a truck flies across the river, landing against a rock and splintering to pieces. Shores below us seize up with tides they were definitely not prepared for. I wonder about the health of the native flora and fauna. I wonder about the sanity of the local park rangers. "And yer out," calls CMYK.

Chopped sticks float in the murky water, rent free of the thing they once were. It's always reassuring to know that someone out there is having a worse day than you are.

"Queue us up," I tell Phantom.

"On it," he says.

I'd love to say things went horribly wrong that day and we were forced to learn some lesson about teamwork. I'd love to say that I had to step up and really lead the team on that day. I'd love to say all kinds of things about the thematic significance of that particular encounter, but we really just play baseball for a solid hour. Most of the time is spent making wisecracks about Ignatius's taste in graphic design, postulating on what might be over there that's so worth getting to (running candidates include Ignatius sending the massive beasts to do his errands for him), and generally just standing atop a cliff, looking cool as all get out, chucking massive plant beasts into a river. There is nothing more cathartic than doing something right, which is something I don't have very much experience with.

The last beast hits the rock dead on. Cee's seven for eight in slamming them right against the heart of the river. At the same time we hear the distant crack of charred treeflesh cracking apart, Phantom passes out. Tesla catches him and hoists him up.

"Too much?" I ask.

Tesla shrugs.

I search the area. It would appear we did what we came here to do. That should be its own reward, but I'll admit it, I'm still unsettled. "Right," I mutter. "Right. Back to the lair?"

We drag Phantom, for the second time running, all the way home. On the way back, I pick up a bit of tree and twirl it around between my fingers. The bark doesn't feel like normal bark-- it's too smooth. Everything about it feels deliberate in a way that normal plant matter doesn't. I'm holding a fragment of a weapon, not a living, breathing thing. I decide to bring it with us into the Veins, for Shiloh's inspection.

"Not the time to be picking flowers," Amanda warns me. She won't say it, but she doesn't look much better off than Garrett does. She and Karen are depleted.

"I'm-- I'm not!" I insist. "Sorry."
"Are you apologizing for the plant picking," asks Amanda, entering the nearest portal home with me, "Or something else entirely?"

"Maybe I'm just sorry," I say.

"Will," Karen insists. "Cut it out." She drops Garrett in one of the corners laden with cushions. He doesn't even rouse. Her arms fold. She flicks aside his hair, pensively staring at his face. "He's not... Shiloh, can we hurt ourselves if we overextend our powers?"
Shiloh trots over. He sniffs Garrett, face blank, then moves on to survey the rest of us. "I would say you all should be fine. It would look like Ignatius was pushing the limit of his own powers, given that he no longer has one shard of the Diosite. If I had to wager, this means he can no longer use close-range botanokinesis. However, he is growing more adept with the creation of creatures. I would be weary of him, and what he is capable of. Do not doubt for a second that he will be, if anything, more dangerous when backed into a corner."

"I brought back a bit of the bark," I say, holding it out for Shiloh's observation.

Shiloh sniffs it. He proceeds to bite into it.

"Shiloh!" I say. "What it's that's poisonous?"

"It it were poisonous," he says. "You would have just contaminated the entire river. Furthermore, as a non-biological organism, I do not have to worry about chemical or biological atrophy in my body. I can consume many types of poison, just as I can be shot in the head a dozen times without succumbing to bloodloss."

"Has that... happened before?" I ask.

Shiloh crunches the plant matter.

"Oh god," I mutter.

"Right. Mission?" Karen asks. "As far as I know, essentially nothing is on the other side of the river, it's unpopulated, but that just makes it more suspicious. I'm doing research on what's over there tonight."

"Right," Garrett says, finally haven awoken, slightly. "What are we talking about? We're not dead, are we? Because it is so, so warm here."

"You overextended yourself again," Karen tells him. "Your homework is to get a better handle on moving large objects."

"I have a lot of homework already," Garrett says. "Do we have to? Really?"
Karen sighs. "You can't keep passing out on us, Garrett."

"She does care," Garrett says, to himself.

"If that's a revelation to you, you might need to pull your head out of your ass," Karen responds.

Amanda squints at me. No, Amanda, I don't know if they're dating, and if not, why they haven't just admitted to each other that they like each other yet.

"You good, Will?" asks Karen.
I startle. "Yes-- I mean--" I attempt to make my voice sound more... Luna-y, as opposed to Will-ish, but it's not happening. "Today was nice. We did a great job. I know I wasn't much help, but I think... I think we're making legitimate progress, and that's exciting."

"Today was the opposite of legitimate progress," Karen says. "It was a diversion. The poison thing has me wondering, though. Eventually he's going to realize what he's capable of. After that, it's not us who's in danger. It's not a few people. It's potentially the entire city, and past that, who knows? I don't think he'd hold up against the military, but he could kill millions of people before anyone knows what to do. We need to take more deliberate action, as fast as possible, regardless of what that entails."

"I-- I agree," Garrett says. "If we can just get in close-range, we should be able to handle him, no problem."
Do you mean what that entails for us, Karen, or what that entails for him?

"I don't know how I feel about 'regardless of what that entails', but for the most part, that sounds great. We'll reconvene in a week. Garrett? Be on the top of your game. Karen and Amanda? Keep being yourselves."
"That's homework I can get behind," Amanda says. "See you, Walnut."

"Adios, Almond," I call.

Karen gives me a quick "what the heck" expression before turning to go her own way, and Garrett follows, grabs her hand, and says, "Hey, if you're not busy--"
I smile to myself. I swear I'm not dallying, but the Veins are warmer than our house right now, and it smells like sandalwood instead of cinnamon. Home is where the heart is, right? I know I can't camp out here, I don't even know if I'd want to, but I should consider it, sometime...

"I don't know what I'm going to do, Shiloh," I tell him. "If things get really bad, and I actually have to make a tough decision."

Shiloh's teeth split into a smile. It's not perfect, and the attempt still unnerves me, but I know in my heart that the sentiment is in the right place. "I have no doubt that you can figure something out, Will."

"But what would you--" I say.

Shiloh's smile drops. His blank expression bores into mine. "You know what I would do."
I can't accept that answer.

"Right," I say. "I should... I should go home."
"Home is where the heart is."

If I wasn't leaving before, I definitely am now. I take a portal outside of Shiloh's lair, which spits me out down the street. I can see a cookie tin outside the front door of one of our neighbor's houses, and past that, rows of houses airbrushed by snow. It's quiet outside. Unusually quiet. When I open the door to my house, well, it's quiet there too. The next batch of cookies are lying, cooled to room temperature, on the baking sheet. I reach out to touch

"Go ahead," says Adam's voice for the other room. He's watching a history documentary.

"Really," I say.

"Yeah," he says. "You live here. Pretty sure that means you're entitled to a cookie."

I take one. They're a little dry. It's hard to mess up a box recipe, but my brother is definitely giving it his best shot.

"Not up to your tastes?" he asks.

"They're fine," I say.

"Yikes," Adam says. "Now I know I've screwed up."
"You're fine," I say.

"Honestly?"

"Fine."
"Sit down," Adam says. "It's a Sunday afternoon. We should be watching cartoons, together, but since my taste in cartoons is so bad, I figured I'd queue up this documentary instead. It's on medieval England. I'm having a blast."

(It's drier than his cookies.)

"What are you up to these days?" I ask, over the continued description of squalor in medieval towns.

Adam stares at the ceiling. "Honestly? I've never felt anything like this."

"Same here," I laugh. "I guess we have more in common than you thought, huh?"
"Trust me, we don't."

"What?"

"What's going on right now. It's nothing like anything you've ever experienced."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Certain."

"You're not going to explain anything to me, are you?"
The television plays on while we sit in silence.