"Irresponsible."

"Charlie, you can't mean that."

The agent spun to face Aether, gesturing in vague annoyance. "No, of course not. And honestly I'm not blaming you for taking the night off, but how many people's personal phones do I need to call before you'll pick up?"

She leaned against his desk, combing her wet hair with her fingers. Charlie was pacing around the room, alternating between answering phone calls from reporters and scolding Aether for... well, for what she wasn't quite sure. He was angry at Veritas for going on patrol without telling anyone, apparently – but he had saved Flickr and been kind of helpful – angry at the police for doing a bad job of arresting Nova – but they couldn't really be expected to fight off Vortex herself – angry at Aether for going out with Luis – but admitted it wasn't really her fault – and angry at Luis, for turning out to be evil, she supposed.

So overall, Charlie was mostly angry that he didn't have anyone specifically to be angry at.

"Stop dripping on my desk," he snapped, picking up the phone again.

Aether flicked water drops at him. "Do you have a hair dryer? Mine's back at my apartment, and since you won't let me leave the building..."

"Ask Lydia."

Charlie's back was turned again, so he didn't see the way Aether tensed at the name, her fingers curling into a fist and squeezing more water from her hair onto the desk. She stared at the puddle as it started seeping into the fabric of her black interview suit.

"Lydia... isn't here," the super finally said.

The whole room felt suddenly colder, like eyes were pressing in from all sides. She glanced back at Charlie, but he wasn't even listening, nodding at whatever the person on the phone was saying.

Get a grip, Aether told herself. Lydia's fine. She's not going to do anything crazy. Give her space, it's been a long day.

It was barely nine in the morning. She slowly uncurled her fingers, letting a few more drops hit the desk.

Charlie doesn't care. No one knows... yet.

***

Ethan was totally screwed.

Vortex was going to kill him, if the cops didn't first. They'd stuck him in a holding cell overnight, but not at the police station - a nicer one at the super HQ downtown.  They'd taken his suit and helmet, and the boy was left in the dark blue shirt and leggings he wore underneath, in a too-warm room, in the middle of the night.

So Ethan did what any other teenage boy would have done in his position and promptly fell asleep.

He woke when the door banged open, but didn't move, perfectly content to remain sprawled on the laminate floor with his eyes closed. The footsteps weren't aggressive, like he expected, but swoosh swoosh-ed over to the bench like his visitor was wearing bedroom slippers.

Ethan peeked, and she was. His eyes slowly travelled upwards.

Fuzzy red slippers. Bare ankles. Grey sweatpants. A tailored black suit jacket. Perfectly curled red hair. The country's most famous superhero was balancing a Styrofoam cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin, not even looking at him as she attempted to close the cell door with one foot.

"Did they feed you?" was the first question out of her mouth.

Ethan forgot he was pretending to be asleep. She passed him the muffin, and it was gone in about two seconds.

"I'm Aether," the super said unnecessarily.

Ethan swallowed. "I know who you are."

He could feel her eyes on him, but didn't look up, crossing his legs. The floor was cool on his bare feet. If the whole building was like this, he wasn't surprised Aether wore slippers.

"I assume you know why you're here."

"Too many parking tickets?"

Aether let out a surprised laugh. She swept her slippered feet forward, crossing them jauntily at the ankle. "How old are you, kid?"

Ethan's eyes stayed on the floor. The less he told these people, the better, right? They probably had ways of finding this out anyway. Vortex was going to kill him.

"Look, we can do the good cop, bad cop thing if you want. Veritas is in the building and I'm sure he has a few things he'd like to say to you, especially after the fight you put up last night."

The boy winced. "I'm good."

"You're good, huh?" Aether laughed again, this time without humour. "I suppose we're the bad guys, then."

"I'm not the one who's sold my soul to the government," Ethan blurted.

She stared at him, the smile dying on her face. Her mouth stayed half-open, like there were several things she was considering saying but none quite worked.

Ethan finally met the super's eyes, sticking out his jaw defiantly. "It's all elitism. We believe anyone can be super, whether they have powers or money or connections or none of those. You think you're so much better because the government pays you to spread their propaganda?"

Aether's eyes were bright with surprised anger. "I'm here because I went through the academy. Every one of us earned our place. How could you possibly call that elitism?"

"It's the way the system is designed. I never had powers and my family wasn't important enough to get into your academy. Nova flunked out – but we accepted her. We accept anyone."

"You accept criminals."

The super stood up, like her height would intimidate the boy. He stared at her knee through a hole in her grey sweatpants, unimpressed.

"Nova flunked out of the academy because she injured six other students," Aether snapped. "You think I didn't look you up? Don't talk to me about the elite, Ethan Stacey."

So they did know who he was. Vortex is definitely going to kill me, he thought. But the redhead wasn't done.

"Son of Arthur W. Stacey. Tech genius, CEO of Diarmid-Winston Genetics, well-known trillionaire. Tell me again why you couldn't attend the academy."

Ethan snorted. "Whatever. My dad wasn't..."

He accidentally made eye contact with the super. Aether's gaze was steady. He'd seen her on TV a hundred times, acting her part in front of the nation – but something behind her eyes this time pierced through his flippant denial. She absolutely, one hundred percent, believed what she had just told him.

And it made Ethan angry.

"Stop it," he demanded, pushing to his feet and knocking over the half-empty coffee cup on the floor. His hands were in fists, like he could lash out physically at her accusations. "My dad was dirt-poor. I never even saw him. And my mom died when I was twelve, and Vortex was the only one who even cared—"

The superhero was staring at him with a sudden softness in her expression. "You didn't know," she whispered.

It was strangely difficult for Ethan to suck in his breath. Aether stepped toward him slowly, her slippers scuffing through the spilled coffee. She reached for his hands, and the boy didn't resist, letting her grip his wrists as he sat with a thump on the bench.

"I'm sorry," Aether said. "It's true. And Vortex only cared because of your father. She was using him for his money and influence – where do you think she got all the resources to build her empire? Who do you think paid for the super suit you were wearing last night?"

Ethan stared at the buttons on Aether's suit jacket. If it was true, what she said— "Where is he, then?"

She hesitated a beat too long. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Tell me."

"Arthur Winston-Stacey... outlived his usefulness." Aether dropped the boy's hands, studying his reaction. "Vortex killed him. About three years ago. She was never charged, because it looked too much like a suicide to the general public – and also because we still haven't caught her," she added like it was an afterthought.

"I don't believe you," Ethan said flatly.

She shrugged. "Okay."

"What do you want?"

A high-pitched electronic buzz sounded from outside. Aether tensed, glancing toward the door.

"Five minutes," she said quickly. "I want to know what Vortex wants."

There was a long silence.

"I don't know much," Ethan muttered, his lips barely moving.

She waited.

His eyes jumped to Aether's, fixing on the super with a sudden intensity. "Keep Vortex away from me. I'll help you, just don't let her take me back. Please."

She frowned, opening her mouth, but Ethan interrupted again.

"I'm sorry," he half-whispered, embarrassed. "I wanted to be like you. When—when I was little. I didn't mean to become... this."

"It's okay." Aether stood, scuffing toward the door again. She turned, offering him a smile. "You're all right, kid. Sorry in advance."

"Wait—" Ethan glanced up. "What are we doing?"

The cell door opened, and Aether gestured for him to follow.

"We're going to see Vortex."

***

Sebastian turned in his seat as Lydia walked into the office, closely followed by a lanky guy in a suit. The superhero smiled back at him. She looked almost as good as new - the fresh bandage around her upper arm the only sign she'd been injured.

"Super genetics. It's just not fair." Sebastian cracked a grin.

"You sound like death," Lydia said sympathetically. "I'm sorry you were put in danger like that."

Sebastian touched his throat gingerly. Lucid's fingermarks were probably still on his skin. Every word scraped his throat on the way up.

"It's my job," he offered.

Lydia's eyes darkened. "That's really what we want to talk to you about. Last night... didn't happen because it was your job. That fight was personal, wasn't it?"

Sebastian glanced toward the man seated next to the super. Lydia noticed his gaze.

"My agent," she said. "He knows as much as I do."

And yet Sebastian didn't miss the way Lydia's hand flew to her face, changing direction midair as though she were brushing hair behind her ear though it was already scraped back into a bun. Now that he thought about it, the super's entire posture was tense, angled slightly away from her agent - as though she was hiding something from him.

"Actually, it's my job to know more than she does," the agent said in a cheery British accent. He held out his hand to Sebastian. "Charlie Starr. I know who you are."

Sebastian shook it awkwardly. His fingers had stopped twitching hours ago, but his nerves were still singing.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm sure you both know more than I do."

He couldn't help glancing at Lydia again, but her eyes were fastened on her hands.

"Not about Lucid." Charlie tapped the folder he'd just set on the desk. "You're probably the only living person with more dirt on that vigilante than the government. Which is to say that the government knows next to nothing."

Sebastian didn't like the way he said living - like he needed to be reminded how he got that information. This would have been the culmination of Malory's career - talking to someone actually important about something actually important - but instead there was Sebastian, woefully underprepared and over-intimidated. These people were looking at him like he knew everything.

And last night, Lucid herself had looked him in the eye and told him he knew nothing.

What was he missing? He'd been following Malory every step of the way, mapping out Lucid's past to find the key to the villain's future. Everyone had thought it was pointless. He had thought it was pointless – Lucid was dead, wasn't she?

But Malory knew better. And by extension, so did Seb. Until three days ago, when Malory had found the crucial piece of information – the one she'd died for.

And Sebastian wasn't dead. So whatever that information was, he didn't know it.

He was thinking in circles. They were waiting for his answer.

"I'll write it all down," he said hoarsely.

Charlie nodded, smiled.

"But none of it matters."

The moment he said it, Sebastian knew it was the truth. The agent was looking at him, ready to laugh at a joke. Lydia's burning gaze had suddenly transferred to him.

"None of it matters," Sebastian repeated, "because I don't know the important thing. If I did, Lucid would have killed me last night. There's something I'm missing."

Charlie's expression grew serious. "What Lucid did last night was wildly out of character, from the few records we have of her work. She tends to talk very little and leave no loose ends, no matter how insignificant."

Sebastian knew that. It was a common thread in every report Malory dug up. The figure in black said no words, left no witnesses, started no fights.

Even with the little he knew, Lucid should still have killed him.

"Maybe she's getting soft." Lydia's voice was casual, but she was still looking at Sebastian. "Doesn't want to kill people anymore."

I didn't want to kill Malory.

It was too similar to Lucid's words last night. Sebastian couldn't get her dull expression out of his mind. I deserve everything you hate me for.

"She said she was sorry." Sebastian hadn't thought too hard about those words until now. She had been lying, of course, she had to be. And yet... "She didn't want to do this anymore."

"That's a stupid thing to say." Lydia laughed harshly. "She's the one who decided to start killing people.

"She never starts fights."

"What?"

Sebastian leaned forward. "Three rules. She says nothing, leaves no witnesses, and never attacks first."

"That can't be true." Lydia's stare was locked onto him, searching. "She attacked first when Aether and I fought her."

"Then she is changing," Seb insisted, though he wasn't sure what his point was anymore. "There's still something we're missing."

Lydia's gaze darted away again. "This is just speculation. We need solid info on the vigilante - you have that, right?"

Sebastian's throat was raw, but the super's voice told him she wasn't leaving without some facts. They were all there, in his head, but jumbled up. Malory had often called him late at night just to figure out a discovery - by talking at him for a few hours she could sort things out in her own head. Maybe if Sebastian just started talking - maybe he could figure out what he was missing.

"It's hard to keep track of someone like Lucid. She doesn't move much geographically, but no matter how certain we are of a location, she's all but impossible to find there. Vortex is similar that way, the only difference being that we've never been sure where Vortex is in the first place."

Vortex is like the spider at the centre of the web. So old, so well-established, that we don't even know her real name. Sebastian hesitated, annoyed that he was monologuing about things the super and her agent clearly knew. Something useful. Shocking, even.

"Malory looked as far back as she could." Inwardly, he marvelled at how he could say her name without even flinching. "Going through Lucid's history didn't give us much clue as to where she's been spending the last eight years. But we did learn a few things that help explain why she came back."

Seb paused again, more for effect than to rest his aching vocal cords.

"Vortex is Lucid's mother."

Boom, there it is. He would have laughed at Charlie's wide eyes if Lydia didn't seem so unimpressed in comparison. What was it with her? Sebastian realized they were waiting. He'd stopped again.

"And the kid Veritas brought in last night - we think he's Vortex's too. It all makes sense once you realize."

"That's... very interesting." Charlie nodded at the last revelation. "We thought something similar about the boy's relation to his mentor. Maybe Aether will get it out of him."

Lydia's eyes jumped to her agent. "Aether's talking to him?"

"Right now," he confirmed. "Of course we don't have much to charge him with, other than street fighting and resisting arrest. But if he can lead us back to Vortex..."

"No."

Charlie turned a surprised gaze on the super. Lydia was leaning forward, mouth slightly open, like she wasn't sure how to continue. She clearly felt the two men looking at her but seemed to be avoiding their eyes.

"What makes you think he'll do what you want him to?" Her voice wasn't accusing, just flat. "We should be trusting less people, not more."

Charlie nodded, like he was agreeing. "Of course I'm not saying we should trust him – but if we can use the boy, get him to tell us a lot without telling him a lot..."

"Use him. Like Vortex uses everyone close to us. That IT guy who slipped through our background checks, my own sister, even—" Lydia put a fist up to her mouth, stopping the flow of angry words.

Seb found himself staring at the papers in front of the super. They were untouched, but if her eyes could crumple and twist the loose-leaf like Lydia's hands were twitching to do, they would be unreadable. Not even Charlie seemed to have a reply for her outburst.

Lydia let out a shaky breath, finally making eye contact with Sebastian. "No. No more trust. Anyone can betray anyone."