Lucky walked over to the cluster of excited reporters. I cast a misgiving glance in her direction, but was more interested in confirming my impressions of the invisible woman (Scott had to point her out to the police); her aura is a negative, a void, sucking away my light mental touch against her. I shivered and watched them haul her away. They'll take them to the holding facility outside Harborview in the morning.
     Lucky spoke to the nearest microphone. "I'd like to personally apologize to the motorcycle shop owner, who was unfortunately caught in the middle of an incident where—I'm sure you've all heard of the Blood Boards, well I had the misfortune to run into one who has a cybernetic organism with him, much like our companion, Scott. We have this situation under control and hopefully nothing like it will happen again. This is a fairly harmless gang without this organism they've managed to steal. Thank you."
     Somewhere the Blood Boards are celebrating the fact that they've finally been mentioned on TV. By Lucky, no less. But she did well.
     Speaking of whom. She headed back to Chandler's place while the rest of us returned to base. Promethean beat me and Scott back, but when I got there the light on the answering machine blinked steadily and he was nowhere in sight; upstairs, presumably. I pushed "play."
     "Hi, I guess that I called the right number, there aren't that many of you... this is Travis. If there's anything else I can do to help, please call. I saw you guys on TV, you looked good. Congratulations, and everything. Um, look, I want to help if there's any way I can. Give me a call, all right? Thanks."
    I stood tapping my fingertips very slowly on the table, looking down at the machine without seeing it. After a moment I hit the erase button with decisive force.
     I know none of it happened. But the urge to trust him is there, and strong, even though he's not who my head thinks he is. There's no reason not to trust him, it says. It says dumber things than that, too.
     Even though I might get him killed? asked that little part of my consciousness that would spend the rest of its life hiding under the bed if I gave it the chance. If I'm right they've already tried once.
     Scott snaked the phone away before I could pick it up and called Winters.
     "Yeah? Good job, you guys looked great, we're already pressing questions in the area, looks like we should be able to wipe out most of the tong influence now that there's another power vacuum."
     "Unfortunately, the guy got away that we originally caught."
     "We traded one for five. We've got 'em in maximum security, if you guys want to come in and stand guard over them until we can get them someplace safer..."
     "Good idea."
     "What were you calling about?"
     "This is kind of odd and I'm not sure it's really true, but both the senator and the judge that were killed and worked on Lucky's case also worked on one other case that I've got records of, with the same prosecutor as prosecuted Lucky."
     It took her a moment to work that one out. "OK, you say the guy who was the prosecutor in Lucky's case, worked with Lesobeck and Ellis on another case way back when?"
     "Yes. I don't know if it's entirely meaningful, but it can't hurt."
     "I'll send a black and white over."
     "The case was Felix Javlin."
     "All right, I'll check on it. Good work."
     Everything seemed to be back to normal, although Albert's annoyed about his show's initial review in the papers—the words "dark" and "menacing" were used, I gather.
     "I just talked with Detective Winters on the phone and she'd like someone to stand guard down at the jail until they can cart them away. I'm going into town," Scott announced.
     "We could take it in shifts of two," I suggested, to nods from the others.
     "See you in four hours," Promethean agreed.
     "Has anybody called Chandler?" Scott asked. "About all these magical villains?"
     "Yes," I replied. "He hasn't met these people before. Except for the one guy, and he had no power then, so he's just as confused as we are. Doesn't know enough about Oriental systems, I don't think."
     "Thought I'd ask. Oh, and why did you all keep letting that woman with the sword hit you on the head?"
     I blinked at him. "Because we can't see her, Scott."
     "Why not?"
    "You can see her?"
     "Yes."
     "Hm. Some sort of mental power, then."
     "She was able to affect the two of you, but not M. L'automaton?" Albert asked. "It is merely something she is doing that would affect people who are alive, it does not have to be of the mind. While the mind is the most powerful part of the human, the body also plays a role."
     "She's fooling our eyes, you mean?"
    He shook his head. "There are senses we do not pay attention to. I can manipulate them."
     Scott and Promethean headed for the station. Promethean spent a while interrogating Monster, discovered their names and origins. They call themselves Wuxia, which means "flying people." They had been low-ranking tong members, out at a hidden island supply base and smuggling center the day we destroyed Fimbulwinter's hideout. We should do a sweep of the bay one of these days and see if we have any other neighbors we don't know about. The radiation from the explosion destroyed the building; for the six who survived, it had given them the alterations and powers we had seen. The tong thought they were dead; they disappeared, learned about their new selves, stepped in when the power vacuum appeared. They really are our fault, in a way. Isn't poetic justice great.

[Perspective switch: Lucky]

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