Of Heroes And Villains: The Ties That Bind An assassin. A fallen hero. An unlikely meeting. The road to redemption is long and hard and filled with explosives.

The elegant spire of the Millennial Tower reached high into the sky, its alien surface gleaming in the city lights. The tallest tower in the world had been augmented with extraterrestrial technology to be extra shiny, sparkling like it was studded with diamonds.

Beauty and glamor were, after all, everything in this world.

It was a hotel, its opulent and luxurious rooms housing state dignitaries from all over the world, as well as several other worlds. At the moment there was only one such extraterrestrial diplomat in residence, named R’lak, ambassador of the popular World Of Solid Gold And Also Improbably Large Mammals Whose Jaws Bit Through Metal.

But the extravagance drew shadier guests as well. Crime bosses. Warlords. Dictators. Taking a break from their power games to flaunt their wealth for all to see.

Of course, games of power never ended.

In a suite on the highest floor, overlooking the bustling metropolis beneath, lay the rapidly cooling body of a minor political figure.

The assassin calmly wiped the red stains from her dagger.

Her icy gaze swept the room, confirming that no evidence of her presence remained.

Then she dissolved in a swirl of radiant light.


***


“It’s done.”

Her client smiled. But then, she was always smiling, if she wasn’t staring off into space at nothing in particular. She called it being ‘precognitively disabled’. Radiance called it being fucking nuts.

Not that she minded. The woman was a regular, and Radiance never turned down one of her assignments. Her targets were always the same: crooks, liars and murderers, and not a single innocent among them. That was important – ever since she had gained some measure of independence, she chose her targets well, even while still fulfilling her duty to the Order.

“Delightful,” crooned her client. “There is another I need taken care of tomorrow, but I suppose you’ll be unavailable?”

Radiance paused.

She had indeed scheduled leisure time for tomorrow. A rare treat, one she didn’t want to miss. The white-haired woman was still smiling at her, yet her usually vacant gaze was now sharp and piercing.

Nobody was supposed to know.

“Everknowing, dear,” said her client, and calmly stirred her tea. They were sitting in a Mediterranean tea house, where her client usually preferred to meet.

“That’s private.” Radiance resisted the temptation to phrase it more rudely than that.

“I would not bring it up without reason.” She leaned forward, and an electric charge filled the air. “Look closely. Look very, very closely.”


***


PsyKick slept poorly, wandering his shattered mindscape and trying to stay clear of the memories threatening to roll over him. Why couldn’t they just stay nice and suppressed?

Surprisingly, he woke without a hangover, so there was that.

He was listlessly poking at his breakfast when a deep male voice spoke up behind him. “Morning.”

PsyKick nearly fell off his chair, whipping around to stare at the stranger.

Icy blue eyes met his, and the man raised an eyebrow as he absently finished tying his tie. “Tell me you made coffee.”

Hell, he knew that growling voice.

“…Shade?”

Shade grunted in what PsyKick assumed to be confirmation, already striding toward the espresso machine.

“…I can’t help but notice you’re looking very male today.”

“Illusion,” he (?) said curtly. Somehow, Shade was finding ways to condense her (his?) already not very loquacious communication into as few words as possible. At PsyKick’s confused look, he-slash-she amended, “Have to keep up civilian appearance. Can’t switch gender at the same time as Shade.”

“Ah. So you’re still Kara under there?”

She nodded, and seemed to relax a fraction at his statement. “Yes. I am.”

“Okay. Good to know.” PsyKick shrugged and went back to concentrating on skewering his own breakfast. Shade was radiating the old tension which had made her so uncomfortable to be around in the past and which had been entirely missing from Kara. It didn’t really take much for PsyKick to draw the obvious conclusion.

Shade hated having a male body. Much of the hatred PsyKick had seen must have been self-hatred.

He felt a little bad about laughing at her fetish now.

Mistress chose that moment to prance into the kitchen and to make a beeline for Kara, standing on her toes to kiss her gently. Shade immediately brightened, although brightened was relative – she was still scowling fiercely, only slightly less so than before.

“Good morning, various heroes and heroines!”

Shade didn’t answer, only pressing her lips to Diane’s hair.

“Good morning, Mistr– “ Kara clenched her fingers. “Diane. Good morning, Diane.” Kara relaxed.

Mistress rewarded him with a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

“Diane,” Kara rumbled. “Why was my magic pendant in your drawer?”

“Oh, I was using it.”

“…why.”

She smiled cheekily. “Because I have needs, Kara. I like looking at something pretty in the mirror when you’re out saving the world and I’m all alone.”

Shade sighed.

It took PsyKick a moment for her meaning to sink in, and then he nearly choked on his breakfast.


***


Radiance never worked in Paragon City.

The official reason was too many capes.

The unofficial reason was too many memories.

She watched the young man making his way toward the counter. He was tall and broad, the expensively tailored suit doing little to hide his muscles. Combined with a fierce scowl on his handsome face he struck a very intimidating figure, leading the other patrons of the bistro to keep a healthy distance.

He had so very little in common with the shy yet affectionate boy she remembered.

But then, he likely wouldn’t approve of what he’d see in her either.

Caroline leaned back, slouching deeper into her chair to make herself as unremarkable as possible, and adjusted her sunglasses.

Ian came here once a month, like clockwork, during lunch hour.

And she watched.

She was never very happy with what she saw. When she’d first seen him upon her return to Paragon, her gangly teenager of a brother had somehow turned into an adult. He’d grown up without her, into a man with cold eyes and an even colder demeanor.

And Caroline had realized there was no place for her in this stranger’s life.

But she still liked to watch, sometimes.

And, as her client had advised, she watched closely today. And what she saw took her breath away.

His gait was wrong. He lacked the cold detachment, trading it for unease. And when he spoke, there was a delay. It was barely noticeable, but when his lips moved, the words were just a fraction out of synch, as if they needed to be filtered in some way.

Radiance knew deception well.

That was an illusion.

Someone was impersonating Ian Reynolds.

Which begged the question of where the real Ian was.

Caroline’s fingers tightened around the table knife in her hand.

Whoever had the audacity to harm her baby brother would pay for it with their life.