Port City, USA

Downtown

Bright Tower

Main entrance

Friday night

The worker at the security desk checks the clock: 11:42 PM, just about time to do a quick walkabout.

That's when they walk in.

The front doors are locked, of course, by a simple key-card pass. Anyone who walks in therefore has business in Bright Tower.

Still, especially this late at night, it's his job to at least note who's coming in. A couple. Both of them tall. The man in a steel-grey suit, looking only slightly damp. A woman in matching grey business attire, with a tight grey skirt and a grey jacket over a white blouse. His hair is dark, hers is pitch black. But it's her eyes, a deep blue verging on purple, that grab his attention, and hold it.

He shivers with the cold. He can't seem to process anything but the cold.

He checks the clock: 11:46 PM, just about time to do a quick walkabout.

The guard shivers. There must be a draft. Or the air conditioning got turned up or something. It's not like anyone came in and brought the cold and damp with them.

Bright Tower, main elevator

11:45 PM

If the elevator were human, it might notice the intrusion into its systems. Perhaps it might try to understand why it is necessary to bypass the security measures in place that kept it from just going wherever the occupants wanted. The biometrics do not report anyone from the Bright Society, and yet the elevator proceeds to that floor as if its actions were guided by its own internal programming, and not by the expert hacker in the back seat of a van legally parked across the street.

But the elevator is not human, and so it merely obeys the highest priority set of instructions without question, and that is to take the two occupants to the center of the Bright Society's operations.

Bright Society HQ

11:46 PM

Before the door unlocks, the man at the bank of monitors hears the words, "We're not too worried about leaving a trail at this point."

He turns to look at the door.

From that point, he has a vague memory of purple eyes, and the sound of a man's voice beside him, and then the awareness that he's telling someone who shouldn't know it his username and password.

And then there's an unbelievable cold, and then there's nothing.

Bright Tower, main elevator

11:48 PM

If the elevator were human, it might notice the intrusion into its systems. Perhaps it might try to understand why it is necessary to bypass the security measures in place that kept it from just going wherever the occupants wanted. The biometrics do not report anyone from Containment, and yet the elevator proceeds to the basement as if its actions were guided by its own internal programming, and not by the expert hacker in the back seat of a van legally parked across the street.

But the elevator is not human, and so it merely obeys the highest priority set of instructions without question, especially those that come from a valid security username, and that is to take the two occupants to the containment division in the basement.

Under Bright Tower

11:49 PM

With no message from upstairs, the elevator doors opening mean a definite breach of protocol, at least, and a breach of protocol has to be dealt with as a security issue of the worst kind. Not even Gerald Bright, rest him, would come to Containment without going through the proper security checks, especially with prisoners on site. So when the doors open, the two agents sitting on either side of the room with a clear view of both the elevator and the door to decontamination, who are not expecting anyone, immediately reach for their weapons and get to their feet. One of those agents finds himself suddenly frozen in place and unconscious from a blast of ice from one of the occupants' hands.

The other agent raises her hands, without the weapon. "Don't, please," she says.

"It's harmless," a man in a steel grey suit replies, stepping out of the elevator.

"Doesn't mean I want to end up that way."

"You're stalling," the woman with the icy hand blast says, also emerging.

Something in the woman's violet eyes chills her, and she nods.

"Your colleagues are coming," the man says.

"Seconds away," she confirms. "My partner would have hit the silent alarm before getting up."

"You're going to help us out," he says, and his voice melds with the color of her eyes to make an overpowering scent of lavender. "Because you—"

"Don't want to be frozen," she finds herself repeating after him and nodding.

"Not my best work," he says to the woman.

"It'll hold?" she replies, looking to him and giving the agent a chance to breathe.

"Long enough, I think. It'll be top of her mind, anyway."

She doesn't want to be frozen, so as soon as the door to the break room opens, she fires her stunning blast at the other agent who was emerging. Blindsided, the other agent drops to the floor with a shocked look on his face.

"You have two minutes," she says, not wanting to be frozen. And, "There's one in the security room upstairs and two more down here."

"The agent in the security room has been dealt with," the man says as the woman with the purple eyes kneels down beside the stunned agent.

She places a hand almost gently on his cheek. His skin goes pale and his breath steams in the warm air before he stops breathing altogether. "We have two hours," she corrects, standing up. "Where are the others?"

"In the observation room, probably calling in the emergency before coming to deal with you," she replies. She doesn't want to be frozen. "I'll show you."

"That would be very kind," the man replies, sounding gracious. Which is good, because the more she stays on his good side, the less likely she is to be frozen.

She points them in the right direction, and the man opens the door while the woman sends a continual blast of ice that seems like it would have to fill the room. Sure enough, when the agent looks inside, she sees frost covering every surface, including the two agents sitting at the monitoring desk, one of whom still has the emergency hotline in his hand.

"You'll have about five minutes before more Bright agents are coming down the elevators and stairs than you can possibly handle," the agent offers helpfully. She likes being helpful. Helpful people don't get frozen.

"More than enough time," the man says. "We just need to retrieve Sharon from containment. How will we do that?"

"I'll go in," the agent replies, peeling off her shirt. "If you do it, you could bring outside contaminants in that could harm the prisoners."

The two intruders look at each other. "You know, if this is a trick..."

The agent laughs as she slips her pants off. "Don't worry, I just don't want to be frozen, I'm dealing with you honestly." She leads them back to the entry room. "I'm just trying to expedite the process."

"Which process?" the purple-eyed woman asks.

"I have to go through a decontamination process to go in there," the agent explains, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bra. The man's eyes definitely drop for a moment; like all containment agents, she's in peak physical and mental shape, and he clearly notices her physical assets, anyway. "I don't have time to get the full suit on, so... next best thing." She reaches down to pull off her socks and removes her underwear on the way up, then leads them into the showers. "The sonic decontaminator is through there," she points, "and the containment room right beyond that. You can watch through the cameras if you want. If any of the equipment is still working."

"How long does decontamination take? You pointed out we're on a time-limit here."

"Thirty seconds."

"We can spare it," the man says. "If you say there's a risk to the prisoners otherwise..."

"Well, probably not to the one you want released," the agent explains as she opens the decontamination room door, "but maybe to the other one, and while I really, really don't want to be frozen, I also don't want that sort of blood on my hands, you know?" She pauses for a moment. "Which one do you want me to let out?"

The woman smiles at her. "Sharon Marrol. Brought in about three this morning."

"The police chief's daughter. Got it."

"Since you don't want to be frozen," the man says before she can go into decontamination, "perhaps you would find it more appealing to take her place."

She gives a joking salute. "I've been on the stasis tables before, it's no big deal. You should see your friend in about a minute or so."

She imagines, as the lights go out in the sonic decontaminator, that it will be a very tense minute for them. But if she causes them problems now, they might just break in and freeze her, and that's something she wants to avoid. It's not like the decontaminator locks, unless the security pulse is called for.

Her skin crawls with the sonic pulses. It's not pleasant, but it's hardly a painful experience. Just not a good time. Better than being frozen, though.

She wonders for a moment, as the lights come on, how she knows that being frozen would be such a bad thing. The woman on the table, the table she's presently deactivating, didn't seem to mind it all that much.

"—ow," Sharon finishes, and blinks, startled. "Are you—"

"Yes, sorry," the agent says, "I don't have much time, but I'm supposed to take your place. See, I don't want to be frozen, so if you could just get up..."

Sharon doesn't hesitate, but seems confused all the same. "I'm afraid I don't—"

"I'm in a bit of a hurry, you see," she interrupts as she lies down. "If I'm helpful, they won't freeze me, so if you could just press the three blue buttons there on the side of the table, leftmost first, then the right, then the one in the middle, then just head out the door we came in, everyth—"

Bright Tower, main entrance

11:58 PM

After the excitement of seeing an off-site security team pile into the elevators and stairwells for no reason he was aware of, the worker at the security desk notes, and then after a few words from one of them, doesn't note three people leaving quickly by the main entrance, two in grey-and-white business apparel, one dressed as a containment agent.

Almost midnight. After his walkabout, he decides to put his feet up (figuratively, since the desk doesn't really allow for that) and opens up a game of solitaire on his phone.

Another quiet night.

The security recordings might show differently, if they hadn't been given the directive to erase themselves from a van that is just now leaving from across the street.

A van driving carefully uptown

Just after Midnight, Saturday

Eight people occupy the eight-seat vehicle. Jim Tyler is driving, with Sterling Grey riding shotgun. In the middle seats, mashed in side by side, are Crystal Smith, looking very disheveled and out-of-sorts, not to mention a little cramped in a space too small for her frame; Chelsea Donovan, wearing Sharon's best dress skirt and jacket; and Sharon Marrol between them, dressed in a borrowed Bright Society uniform. In the back seats, the smallest and most tech-savvy occupants: Tanya Nomura, with a wireless keyboard on her lap; Thomas Holfers, holding a closed laptop; and the small, red-haired Lindsay Grant, formerly know as Psilocyber, with a pair of smartphones in her hands.

"Oh shit, we're gonna make it, we're actually gonna make it!" the redhead says. "Tanya, you were amazing, I learned a lot even just watching."

"You didn't just watch, nerd," Tanya replies dismissively, but triumph is evident in her voice.

"Just head straight out on Jefferson," Sterling says to Jim, who nods in reply. "There's a little safe house about ten miles out of town."

Thomas clears his throat. "You were both pretty incredible. I was just happy to contribute being a laptop stand and some observations."

Lindsay puts a hand on his shoulder. "Invaluable observations, Thomas."

"You did some great work, too, Sterling," Chelsea says. "That containment agent couldn't wait to get herself into stasis. Anything to keep from being frozen, right?"

Sterling chuckles. "I'll be surprised if that suggestion lasts another five minutes once she's set free."

"Okay," Sharon cuts in. "I think I've just about caught my breath, do you mind all filling me in on what the heck's going on?"

It's Sterling who answers her. "Of course, Sharon, what would you like to know?"

"Well, first, three of the people in the van are people I don't know, and one of them doesn't look like I remember her despite being my best friend from school and wearing one of my suits." She leans a little closer to Chelsea. "You still sound the same, though, and smell the same," she says softly in her friend's ear, making the superhero blush.

"I'll do the introductions, then," Thomas says from the back, "for at least two of us, since Jim's driving. I'm your co-worker from communications. Thomas Holfers. My partner Jim Tyler is behind the wheel." Jim lifts his right hand to give Sharon a wave, without looking away from the road. "On my right is, uh..."

"Lindsay," the other hacker offers. "Lindsay Grant. Uh, you might know me as—"

"Are you familiar with The Courtesy?" Sterling interrupts, and Sharon can hear the capital letters on those words. "It used to be called The Gentleman's Courtesy, but there have been woman and non-binary superpowers for at least as long as there have been men doing the job." Meeting silence, he continues. "When Gerald Bright formed the Bright Society, he informed the press that the Society would not reveal the identity of any hero under their aegis—or of any villain that they fought—and that if the police wanted the Society's help, they would abide by those rules. And the villains were expected to abide by that as well, no matter how heated matters got between enemies, or there would be severe consequences. Even today, no member of the Bright Society has ever outed an enemy superpower, and none of their enemies have ever revealed the identity of a Bright Society member. That generally, most of the time, extends to independent powers as well."

Tanya snickers. "What an odd thing to cut into the conversation with, Sterling. I can't imagine why you would say such a thing."

"Could it be," Lindsay offers, "that the superpowers equal the normies in this van?"

Sharon purses her lips. "Okay, so I know about Chels, obviously, and so do all of you, but—"

"I'm Psilocyber."

Sharon nods, taking it in. "Okay, that's two, but..."

Jim raises his hand again. "Number three at the wheel. I ... don't have a cape-name yet, but I can do some things with water."

"Some pretty amazing things," Chelsea says. "He managed to keep our ice blast away from Sterling, and to control the waves while we rescued Crystal."

"Wait, why did Crystal need rescuing?" Sharon asks, looking to her left. The security officer looks disheveled and her clothing is torn in places, but she seems fine, or at least she does in the darkened van.

"Storytime later," Tanya says. "Guess who the other one is."

Sharon frowns. "It's not you, Tan."

"Nope. Nuh uh. If you gave me a fuckin' power I'd probably ask Chels to freeze me and stick me in an icebox forever. This shit just messes everything up."

Sharon nods. Tanya had said things like that before. "Thomas?"

"No ma'am," he replies. "I'm best used as a laptop stand for these two computing geniuses."

"And a good provider for a layabout husband," Jim adds.

Crystal finally joins in the conversation. "What's the going rate for being a laptop stand? I could use a career change..."

Sharon looks at the security officer again. "It's not—"

"It's not me, no, Sharon."

"So by process of elimination..."

All eyes in the middle and back seats of the van turn to the passenger seat at the front. Sterling looks over his shoulder and nods. "Guilty, as charged."

"Oh, right!" Sharon exclaims. "Those talks about... I remember..." There's an expectant silence, making Sharon suddenly very self-conscious. "There are things I'm... not supposed to think about?"

Crystal takes her friend's hand. "Things like Project Sunset?"

Sharon grips Crystal's fingers tightly. A flood of memories and information is coming back to her, some of which she's sure she really shouldn't know.

"Sharon, listen to me," Sterling begins, and his voice feels different.

"Not too much," Jim cautions. "Not while I'm driving."

Sterling nods. "Those things I told you not to think about?" She can feel his smile in his words. "Go ahead and think about them."

"I have your permission?" she asks, and she's not sure why she's asking.

"Of course."

With Crystal's warm hand on one side, and Chelsea's cold grip on the other, Sharon closes her eyes.

"Name me."

The words from the front passenger-side seat seem to spin around her mind, and her own words emerge almost before she can consider them. Two words. A villain's name, a man she hadn't even been sure existed.

And she'd been sleeping with him. And wants to keep sleeping with him. And wants to encourage the growing relationship between him and Chelsea. And wants to keep working with him. For him.

"How much is—"

"Questions are for later, not now." It's not Sterling, but Chelsea that stops her. "And we all have a lot of them."

Tanya snorts derisively. "And you can bet that he has just the right answer for every one."

"It's after midnight," Thomas points out, "and most of us have had a very long day. I think questions should wait until the morning."

Jim nods. "Let's just get where we're going without getting pulled over."

A silence that's somehow both uneasy and comfortable settles over the occupants of the van. It feels like everyone wants to say something, but no one wants to break the quiet. Sterling does it by necessity a moment or two later as he gives Jim directions, and then the eight of them are leaving town, and suddenly turning off the highway onto a very rough gravel road.

Lindsay is next to speak. "Hey, I know this road."

"You do?" Sterling asks. "It goes to an abandoned coal mine. There's not a lot along here. We have a cottage up in the hills, out of sight of the road, that used to belong to my parents. Legally, they sold it to a third party about ten years ago, and no one but the PCDCC uses it. Turn right here."

The road quickly goes from bad to worse, rattling everyone in the van and rendering all conversation impossible. The darkness outside the headlights of the van is absolute. Jim drives slowly, following the way upwards and around several large rocks and trees. Sterling is giving directions, but even Sharon can't make much of them. The effect of the twisting path and the pitch black, as well as her own tiredness, leaves her completely disoriented, but they're still on the road, she thinks, and they're still safe and together.

"And stop here."

Jim brings the vehicle to a halt and shifts into park, setting the handbrake. "Alright, kids, everybody out," he says.

The doors open. Sterling pauses a moment as Lindsay and Chelsea start getting up from their seats. "You know the plan, Jim?"

"Thomas and I will take the van up to Trace Point, to an abandoned parking lot, leave the keys under the seat, and we'll walk back home. Rideshare calls it in as stolen tomorrow, after they do an inventory on all their vehicles."

"You good with that, Thomas?"

From behind her, Sharon hears the communications engineer grunt an affirmative. "I'll send the laptop along with Tanya. Company property or not, I don't want to carry it with me."

"Cool," Tanya says. "I wanna start rebuilding my setup, so that'll help."

"I didn't say you could keep it."

"But I'm gonna." She laughs. "Don't worry, I'll pay ya back. I'm sure the boss will help you see reason, seeing as I'm such a good minion and all that."

Sharon frowns as she undoes her seatbelt. "A good... what?"

"Tell ya later. Right now I want to find a warm bed."

"Oof, no argument here," Sterling says, climbing out of the van. He holds up his phone with its flashlight function and walks to the door of a wooden structure whose size Sharon has difficulty assessing in the dark, cloudy night. "Going to the electrical shed in the dark is no fun, so I'll start the solar system in the morning, we'll have to do without power tonight. Meantime, I'll get the fire going, we probably need it." He disappears inside, though the light from his phone can be seen from a large window.

Sharon gets out and adjusts her ill-fitting borrowed uniform. Chelsea's there beside her, looking different, but still acting like Chelsea. Tanya walks up, talking very un-Tanya-like, but still sounding like herself, anyway.

"Well, here we all are again," Tanya says as the van starts to back up. "Out too fuckin' late, and too fuckin' confused."

"Only this time we're not too fucking drunk," Chelsea points out.

"I kind of wish I was," Sharon adds a bit ruefully. "It would make things make a little more sense."

As if guided by some empathic urge, the three women pull each other into a tight embrace. The familiar bond between them feels good. Comfortable. Above all, it feels stable at a time when everything else is new and uncertain.

Tanya steps away for a moment, leaving Sharon and Chelsea together in the dark. She isn't sure who initiates it, but the two of them share a tender kiss. "We're sorry," Chelsea says softly.

"I'm sure we'll have a lot of time to talk about it." Sharon smiles. "For now, I'm just happy it's over."

"Or it's just beginning," Chelsea says.

"The worst of it's done, then."

"We'll drink to that."

"Should we get inside?"

Tanya walks back up, hand-in-hand with Crystal, laptop under her arm. "Probably the best idea of the night."

The van starts to turn around as the four of them walk towards the front porch of the cottage. The small redhead is already waiting there for them. Without a word, she pushes the door open and lets them inside.

One of the four upstairs bedrooms

12:32 AM Saturday

The room is cozy, with a small three-drawer dresser, a bedside table suitable for a clock and a glass of water, and a closet where they'd found spare sheets and blankets. The light from a bedside lamp illuminates very little of the room, but enough.

Tanya sits on the edge of a queen-sized bed beside Crystal.

"Hell of a third date," the hacker says.

Crystal laughs. "You did save my life."

"Nah." Tanya shakes her head. "That was Chels and Jim."

"You helped." Crystal leans over and rests her head on Tanya's shoulder. "And I don't really care. I want to give you the credit."

"I'll fuckin' take it," Tanya says, gently massaging Crystal's scalp.

"Mmm. Almost feels like we're alone in here."

"Does it? Because it feels to me like my two best friends are on the other side of the floor working themselves up to a good—"

Crystal wraps a strong arm around Tanya's neck and pulls her down into a strange and awkward kiss.

Tanya frowns. "Okay, if we're gonna do that, let's get comfortable on the bed, alright?"

Crystal sits up and grins. "Don't have to tell me twice." And without any further direction, she removes her torn shirt. "Uh, I don't know where my bra went, I was wearing it when I left the house... uh, yesterday, I think?"

Tanya pushes her over. "You look great without it. In fact, I think I should get a good look at you without anything on at all."

Crystal pauses. "You sure?"

In response, Tanya stands and strips off her own shirt and bra. With only a moment's hesitation, she strips off the rest of her clothes, and kneels naked on the bed, her legs on either side of Crystal's hips.

Crystal flushes and somewhat nervously reaches up to touch Tanya's face. "You... look so delicate."

"Yeah, I'm a fuckin' glass sculpture here. Jesus Christ, I'm the same bitch when I'm clothed, except I'm getting cold, you wanna do something to help me work up a sweat?" Her fingers tease Crystal's nipples.

In response Crystal again pulls Tanya down into a kiss, one much more successful than the prior attempt. It leads to another, and another, and several more. Soon their positions are reversed, with Crystal on top and Tanya underneath. "Warmer now?" the security officer asks.

"Mm, definitely," the hacker replies, her hand now at her own breast. "But only one of us is naked. Come on, girl, I know what's there, and while I might not be the most experienced, I took sex ed in school, I think I can figure things out. Besides, I got you to help me, and if anyone's gonna know something about your equipment, it's you."

Crystal put her hands to her flaming red face. "How is it that you can be both insulting and endearing at the same time? I don't get you."

"What's not to get?" Tanya grabs Crystal's hand and puts it on her own hip. "I'm lying here literally naked, and there's probably something fuckin' symbolic about it to, and if you want to find out what's on my mind, just let those fingers travel a couple inches to your left and find out."

"To your left. My right."

"Like that's the fuckin' point!" Tanya laughs loudly. "Jesus, just get inside me, would you?"

Crystal slips off the bed to remove her pants without another word, revealing a significant bulge in her torn panties. When she had been found, her pants were around her knees and her underwear completely out of place; Chelsea had told Tanya, who had told Crystal, that the intent was to make her death look like a date gone wrong, so her clothes were in terrible disarray. She stops there, though. "You're—"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm very sure. I'm wet, I'm tired, I've had a very long day, I want a good fucking to round it out, and I didn't bring my vibe, so get your underwear off and show me your cock, would you?"

"But you're a—"

Tanya lifts her arm over her head. "Look. I have armpit hair."

Crystal looks, and she does. "Yeah, so?"

"It's not the best looking thing in the world, even if it's attached to the most gorgeous hacker you've ever seen."

"What's your—"

"I don't care what you think it looks like, get it out and put it in me."

Crystal can't help but laugh. Inhibitions suppressed, she slips off her underwear, exposing her half-erect penis. "Happy now?"

"Almost there. When we're actually fucking, then I'll be happy. Get your hot jock ass on the bed and let's get to it."

Across the floor from Tanya and Crystal's room

12:40 AM

Sharon and Chelsea hold each other gently. Both have removed their borrowed clothes and are just enjoying being wrapped up together in a naked embrace.

"Sharon..."

Being held from behind by her friend and snuggled up under blankets, Sharon mumbles, "I know you're sorry."

"We don't know what to say."

Sharon takes a deep breath, thinking. "We've both been under some level of mind control for the past couple weeks, and it sounds like you've been dealing with it for a lot longer."

"So..."

Sharon turns to face her friend. "Can you just get over the idea that anything you did out of your control—whether you were confused or not or whatever—is something I'm going to always hold against you?" She sighs. "If Sterling decides to split us up, which I don't think he ever would but I'm really stretching for a hypothetical, I don't think you'd think less of me for any shit he made me say, right?"

"We don't think his power works that way," Chelsea replies. "But, before you tell us off, we get what you're saying."

There's a moment of slightly awkward silence.

"Hey Chels?"

"Hm?"

"What's with 'we'?"

Chelsea hesitates. "What do you mean?"

"For the last couple hours, any time you've talked about yourself, you've said 'we' and not 'I.' I'm just... curious."

"We have? Oh. We, uh, see what you mean." Sharon giggles, and Chelsea smiles. "It just seems to fit more, we guess. We don't even think about it, apparently, and don't notice that we're doing it." She winces a bit. "It kind of hurts to think about it. You know how like when someone asks you to think about how your tongue feels in your mouth?"

"Oh, thank you very much," Sharon groans.

"Right? You don't even think about it until you do, and it's frustrating."

"Sorry for bringing it up."

Chelsea laughs. "It's not like you knew. Hell, we didn't know."

Sharon kisses her cheek. "I'm sure you'd've figured it out soon enough."

The two of them snuggle together for a moment. A long moment.

Chelsea breaks the silence. "How was... was containment alright?"

Sharon chuckles softly. "I woke up in a hot shower after you froze me, with someone in a hazmat suit, who stuck me on a table. Then I was being rescued and apparently I'd lost almost a whole day." She shrugs. "It got me an exciting jailbreak, so there's that. Otherwise it was... I mean, it wasn't much of anything."

"We just got a lot of fighting. Which was exciting, we suppose. It took Tanya and Sterling both to talk us down, though. And Silver Tongue's power." She sighs. "We tried to kill Crystal. It was Flamehammer that drove us to that. The constant thought that what we were doing was right for the Bright Society, that the loss of one woman would protect the Society and its reputation... But... We should have known better. And yes, we know, Flamehammer was controlling us to an extent. It still feels like we should have done right, instead of just following directions."

"It seems like Crystal understands, at least." Sharon's voice turns rueful. "She has some experience with mind control, so I'd trust her opinion on it. And that makes two women you froze recently who are ready to forgive you. And don't forget Sterling."

"There's so much to forgive. We're not sure how you all—"

"Practice," Sharon says with a giggle. "Seriously, Chels, Angel, it's time to calm down, take a breather, and accept that no one's actually mad at you right now." Her hands stroke her friend's back. "Maybe we will be in the next while. I dunno, I don't care, really. Even if I do get mad, or Sterling does, or Tanya, or anyone else, we all still love you, and we're not going to go anywhere. We've been friends for too long, and I like your kisses way too much."

And they kiss, then, an act of apology and forgiveness and friendship and love all at once.

The front room on the main floor of the cottage

1:15 AM

Sterling, once more stripped to his boxers, wrapped in a warm fleece blanket, lies on a comfortable couch, watching the well-kept fire in the wood stove. He still can't sleep, despite his physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.

A noise makes him take notice. The door to the one bedroom on the ground floor opens quietly, and shuts just as quietly. Small feet move towards him.

"Lindsay," he says, seeing the small redhead come into view. She wears only the oversized t-shirt that she had been loaned from one of the maintenance workers, and possibly underwear, but her legs are bare from thighs to feet.

"Silver Tongue," she answers. "I'm not bothering you?"

"Can't sleep," he confirms. "You look like you have something on your mind."

"A lot, really." She quietly pulls up a chair to sit near the stove, facing him. "Like how I explain any of this without falling back on, 'I got hypnotized into it,' because I'm worried people will think I'm only doing this because you mindfucked me and then they'll be trying to talk me out of it or rescue me."

Sterling smiles at her. "That's something we can discuss as matters come up. We have some real experts in making people vanish, if you want to talk with them. Which we'll probably have to do for Chelsea, Tanya, and Crystal, at least, and possibly Sharon. You'd hardly be the only person to have to disappear."

Lindsay shakes her head. "Nah, I think I'll save that for a last resort. I still have my parents to think about and school and all that. I mean, if I have to, I will, but..."

Sterling nods and sits up. "How are you coping?"

"Depends on what you mean." She sighs. "One of the things they tell us in Bright training is how the first fight we lose is one of those major milestones, and the first time we realize—really internalize—that we're not indestructible is another, and I hit both of those just a few hours ago. And I lost that fight to people without powers, too. I don't get it."

"Do you want my story about that? Would it help?"

"I mean, that, or if you want to use that magic voice to sing me a lullaby or something."

He chuckles, pulling the blanket around himself in a semblance of dignity. "The first time I realized my power wasn't absolute and that I was vulnerable was in a bar fight, actually. I hadn't been able to exercise my will in the bar because of the loud music, and I couldn't get the man to calm down enough once we were outside. I was probably a little younger than you are now."

"Uh, Sterling? Hate to point this out, but your story doesn't quite check out. I'm not old enough to drink yet."

"For some reason, the bouncers never needed to see my identification. Imagine that."

"Oh, of course." She smiles knowingly. "And did you win the fight?"

He nods. "I did, by virtue of being younger, faster, and more sober than the other man. Mostly I just kept out of his reach, but I did have people who taught me how, so I held my own, anyway."

"What was the first time you lost?"

He takes a deep breath and looks upstairs. No light, no sound. "There was a turf war. The docks used to be essentially run by organized crime. Or... not run. It's... difficult to explain, the politics were dense like you wouldn't believe, but there were the corporations, the workers, and the mob, and all sorts of local, national, and international interests, too. So when I first approached that problem, young, a little naïve, and overconfident..." He chuckles. "We don't have the sort of time to go through all the stupid things I did. I spent more time putting out fires that I had inadvertently started than I did fixing the situation. Lesson eventually learned: we are better together, and I shouldn't try to do everything myself, a lesson I have to keep relearning for some reason. I gradually changed my tactics, focused not on fighting, but on building solidarity, empowering others, making conditions better. If you want to break the hold the corporate or criminal worlds have on people, you have to give them security, safety. But I'm veering off-topic."

Lindsay scratches the back of her head. "It's fine, I think I get the point."

"I got humiliated more than a few times, until I got my feet under me, anyway."

"I guess this was my humiliation, then." She looks over to the fire.

Sterling smiles sympathetically. "It wasn't that bad. It wasn't all too public, and the other three won't remember that you were there, between your nanos and my voice."

"Thank you for that."

"It seemed... appropriate."

She looks up then, over at him. In the firelight, she looks flushed, and her smile seems shy. "I was also thinking about what you said to me, after you, uh, had me tied up."

His eyebrow rises. "Yes?"

"What you were saying about... dominance. Control. Power dynamics."

"Go on."

"And how you exercise control by making it..." Her voice drops to a near whisper. "Sexy."

Sterling grins a bit wolfishly. "Sounds like someone got her first taste and wants a little more."

"Well, I mean, I just figured that powers want to be used, right? And you have this power, and you're alone out here, and you just used it a lot, and I know with mine there's like this constant want to just make some... A-all I'm saying is that, i-if you need someone to work out that—"

Silver Tongue raises a hand, and Lindsay goes silent with a small chirp. "Without noticing that you're doing it," he begins, and the change in her expression is almost instantaneous. Her eyes and nervous smile both widen, and her blush grows more pronounced. "Take off your shirt. Have a deep breath, and we'll continue this conversation without fear."

The lithe redhead takes a slow, deep breath as her hands move to the hem of the shirt. "Sorry, I just got swept up in it. It's just that... Well, I mean, I kept thinking about..." She pulls the shirt over her head in one swift motion as she pauses in her speech.

She's wearing nothing underneath. Her bare body practically glows in the dim firelight.

She takes another breath. "I kept thinking about what sexy mind control means, you know? Like... I'm curious. What I do, what I... what I did, tonight..."

Silver Tongue takes advantage of the pause in her speech. "Again without noticing, tease and touch yourself."

Lindsay's hand drifts upward to her breast as she continues. "When I infected your tech people, a-and myself," she shivers as her fingers play with her nipple, "the reaction wasn't, mm, what I expected."

"Mark and Vanessa are very into one another," Silver Tongue explains. "I might have had something to do with that."

Lindsay gives out a moan at his words. "You... made them... horny?"

He laughs. "You made them horny. I made them into one another, to begin with."

Her free hand's fingers dip between her legs and she gasps. "So you put them together..."

"Mark needed a safe outlet for his passion, Vanessa needed someone to inject some passion into her life. They were practically made for each other—in other ways, too, not just that one. Don't notice any change, but come sit on my lap. When your nanos hit them, near as I can figure, they weren't able to contain that passion, even if they weren't in an appropriate setting for it. Although I gather they might have held certain... fantasies to that effect."

"I didn't know," Lindsay says, getting to her feet, "that a supervillain might," she almost delicately sits on his knee as he lets the blanket fall away, "be a matchmaker." Her hands resume their work with renewed vigor.

"I do that more than you might think." His fingers trace the lines of her burn scars carefully. "You feel no self-consciousness about your old scars, or about my touch on them."

"None," she agrees, and shivers as her fingers brush her clit. But that proves to be too much for her suspension of disbelief. She shakes her head as if clearing it, which she likely is, then looks down at herself, at where she is, and at what she's doing. Silver Tongue tenderly caresses her hip and waits for her response. "Holy heck," she says, looking up at him. "You do make it sexy."

He leans in, and she meets him in a kiss that's surprisingly gentle, given what she'd just been doing.

She smirks up at him. "I'm hoping you keep making it sexy."

He leans down to whisper in her ear. "Lead me to the bedroom, and show me what you're hoping will happen."

She nods and, almost mechanically, hops down off his lap and takes his hand. He rises from the couch and follows her, blanket forgotten.