I laughed and stomped down, the little ants fleeing before me. Small witches, so small I could barely make out faces and their voices did that funny high-pitch thing scattered before me. I was a giant, a tough giant, and their spells were useless! I could use their bones to make my bread, or something.

Of course, I knew it was a dream, but it was a nice one. Very restful, smashing people who weren't really people into gooey paste.

I woke up with a yawn and stretched; it felt good.

Well, a yawn anyway; the stretched part was hard, considering how strapped down I was. Still was. My freshly opened eyes revealed I was still on the bed, but it was cranked up to a semi-standing position somehow, I would be sliding off the bed if I wasn't strapped onto it. There was a tray of medical instruments, scalpels and probes and other nasty things next to me – that I was sure none of which were supposed to be used in the procedure, not that I was sure what was used, other than I had been assured it was not invasive – and I could see the lights on in the observation area above.

To my other side, there was an old generator, one older than I'd ever seen. Its guts were splayed across the table it was sitting on, and looked to have been hacked apart. I knew part of the process had involved trying to repeat some of the older experiments regarding magic on record, but opening up what had to have been a first generation generator seemed over the top... they had been rumored to leak. A lot. At least that was the official response given for the insanity and clawing of eyeballs that happened after six months to a year of steady use.

All the usual suspects were here: Ivan, Alicia, Emil, Irene, Dustin (who probably needed to be somewhere else), the rest of his team (whose names I can't really be bothered to remember) and most worryingly, both the Gloom and Plague.

They all had their various weapons pointed right at me.

“Uh... hi?” I did my best to choke out. My throat was pretty raw for some reason.

Plague lowered her weapon first, a larger than normal flail. She looked very sad for a moment. “Oh, Sasha...”

I tried to respond again when she trailed off; it took a couple tries. “What? I'm fine. Or at least I appear to be fine. I feel fine, at any rate. Why the hell are you all acting like this is a wake?”

I couldn't even look down at myself. Sure, I didn't feel any pain, and I seemed to feel all my limbs present and accounted for and I wasn't in any pain, but experiments sometimes did funny things.

“How about something to drink?”

Dustin and his team kept me covered while Ivan got me a glass – then put a straw in it. Alicia crowded close, her face stormy under her beard, but Ivan was acting on-the-job professional. He poured what smelled like water, which was a shame; I'd have preferred beer. I couldn't move my head; Ivan brought the straw close.

Alicia shook her said and muttered as I started drinking, the water a warm balm all the way down. “It's not fair. Not fair at all.”

“What,” I cleared my throat and tried again. “What isn't fair?”

The voice that responded, finally shaken free of the rust that had coated it, was a clear dulcet bell tone that straddled the line between tenor and soprano; it sounded as if it were singing when it wasn't. It also wasn't close to my own manly tones, and I looked around curiously for whoever was trying to imitate me – just for future reference, and not for any vengeance or anything.

Alicia just sighed. “Even the voice, damn it, it's not fair at all!”

Merlin stepped up. “So, Sasha. You're awake, right? Fully awake, and in control of your faculties? I'd be very interested in hearing of any side effects you may be experiencing.”

I tried again, and again the voice of an angel responded. “Well, other than my voice, I don't know. I don't think I feel any different.”

Yes, it was vague, but the way they were all looking at me (some of them still with weapons pointed; behavior I expect from Duncan but not anyone else) And other than the vague feeling of comforting, near stifling warmth, something which could be from the clothes I was wearing (I knew I was wearing something, I just couldn't see what it was with my head strapped down) I felt good. My senses seemed sharper than ever, and my body seemed sensitive. Judging from the muscle twitches, it felt more responsive than ever, and if the nerves felt slightly off, as if they were in the wrong place, what of it?

I felt alive.

Merlin persisted. “Do you hear any... voices?”

Idiot. “Of course I do, you're yapping at me after all, so I hear yours.” That came out as if it were sung, I'd need to work harder to roughen it up. Maybe I could deepen it a little if I tried?

The Gloom's lips turned upward slightly, and Plague snorted laughter; I winced, it wasn't a pleasant sound.

Merlin sighed behind a smile of his own. “I meant voices in your head.”

Voices like witches listened to, of course. “No, nothing of the sort.”

“And when you look at us, what do you see?”

Well, that was a weird question. And a bit ominous. I thought about it a minute. “Comrades. One of whom I owe for fucking up my manly voice.”

Deepening my voice made it worse, more of a low but light tenor. There had to be a way.... At least Merlin had the good grace to look guilty. He spoke up again, holding up my guns – I was beginning to get a little angry – I was still strapped down.

“What do you think of these, Sasha?”

“I think I owe you a bit more for touching my guns. If you get your dirty fingerprints on them....”

Well, trying to scratch up the voice didn't work either.

Merlin looked to Gloom, and Gloom nodded. “That's normal.”

A chorus of nods rippled around the rest of the peanut gallery. Merlin set them down gently and eased his hands away, and pointed to the generator on the table. “And that?”

“I think Emil must be pissed you ripped up one of his generators. What did you even do to that thing, anyway?”

Emil nodded with a smile as Merlin answered nonchalantly “Oh, just used it to graft a magic matrix to your body.”

Well, that explained that... wait, what? That was his process? A magic matrix was a bit of a theoretical doublespeak meaning the unknown bit of something attached to the person of the witch somehow in order to give them special powers; the thing that made them different. I wasn't really as caught up on the science-y side of things, being far more involved in... practical applications.

“You grafted a magic matrix to my soul?”

Merlin started popping cuffs, and Dustin's team tensed. The Gloom and Plague were relaxed, though, and – was Plague crying? “Yes. Only a few humans alive are capable of having such matrices applied, and fewer still are the males capable of undergoing the process. In all my testing I've only found two. And of course, it seems the process needs refined; there are side effects.”

I stretched languidly, and it felt as marvelous as I had suspected it would. I tried roughening up my voice again. “Things like my voice, right? I think I can deal with it. I'll just stop talking or something. Maybe take up smoking or something.”

Merlin Blushed and Plague burst into noisy tears. “Ah, not quite. In your case the process worked a little too well, I'm afraid. Look down, please.”

I looked down. I was dressed in something weird; it was a robe that looked like a dress, or a dress that looked like a robe. It was black, hugged every curve gently, but covered everything and reached my ankles.

I also had curves to fill it out; I had boobs and flared hips. The boobs were a bit more small than I preferred, but since they were hanging off of me that was probably for the best. A flash of color caught my eye, and I pulled some hair forward, it was both longer and darker than I was used to; a strawberry blonde that reached my chin and was a bit too close to red for my taste.

My hands were even smaller than before, and my wrists were so small they would probably break if I tried to lift my travel pack or generator. Bending slightly, I could see small, delicate feet with perfectly cut nails.

“Merlin.” I was proud of how even my new voice was. The Gloom tensed in his seat, where he was patting Plague's shoulder awkwardly.

“Yes, Sasha?” I looked; Merlin was in a dress, no doubt about what it was. A slight shuffle step towards my guns had everyone on edge, but he didn't notice.

“Who changed my clothes?”

“No one did, actually.” Merlin reached up and plucked something off my head; I felt cold instantly.

It was black and conical, with a wide brim and a top that was bent crooked. The stereotypical witch's or sorcerer's hat, such as was never actually seen on a witch. Merlin took a step back and I got even colder. The world began to recede as if I were seeing it from the end of a tunnel which was rapidly growing longer. Sounds, smells, even colors were muted, and my field of vision started to shrink.

I reached out to try and get the warmth and light back, only to watch as my hand slowly rose and get avoided easily. Something was wrong – it was very hard to focus, to care. I was back on the bed without any idea how I'd gotten there, and everyone was watching me with cold eyes.

And then the hat was back, placed firmly upon my head at what had to be a jaunty angle, and the warmth, sight, and sound snapped back immediately. If I hadn't already been on the bed, I might have fallen.

“What the fuck was that?”

I knew what it was, it was a witch's hat, or the effect of one. I had just felt it from the other side, what happened when a witch was deprived of her hat; I had been reaching, and would have gleefully followed that hat into a fire or a gas chamber.

It was a witch's hat and it was clearly mine, which meant....

Plague bolted out of her chair, past the Gloom, and grabbed me to her. “It's true Sasha my love! We have been parted most cruelly, our love forbidden for all time!”

She paused mid sob. “Well, at the very least our lust has been forbidden for all time. After all, how would....”

Na na na na, not hearing this, not hearing this! I shoved her off with effort and turned to the Gloom.

“So... I'm a witch.”

He nodded. I think he knew I had to ask.

“Fully a witch?”

“Fully a witch. Inside and outside.” Irene interrupted, answering for him.

Witches were female. There were no male witches. I wanted to double (and maybe triple) check, but Plague was creeping me out already and I didn't want to give her any more ideas.

“So what happens now?”

Gloom motioned the weapons down; most complied but Dustin ignored it.

“When the Wyld Hunt first started, the organization accepted some witches. Or rather, since witches were traitorous, some witches were given the option of servitude or death. It did not end well for us, but there are some artifacts left over from that time.

You have two options. One, you stay here – as a lab rat. Emil and Merlin have already expressed their favor for that plan."

Merlin nodded enthusiastically, almost throwing the ribbon from his hair with the force. “Yep! Think of all we could learn! Maybe we could refine the process and use it on the entire Hunt!”

Gloom and I shuddered together and tried very hard to ignore Plague's fresh bout of noisy sobbing. Gloom's voice was steady as he continued. “The other option is we take one of the old explosive collars, fit it to you, and send you back out in the field with a willing team of minders.”

Merlin decided he wasn't done creeping me out. “That could also work! Think of all the data that could be learned from our very own free-range witch!”

“I ain't no chicken, Merlin.” I noticed The Gloom didn't say anything about option three or four. I wasn't going to be allowed to die or 'retire'.

Merlin looked confused; The Gloom pressed on. “So, no voices?”

“No, I'm not hearing or seeing anything different.” I didn't think so, anyway. I looked around the room; it looked normal to me. The people in it looked like they should.

“Well, you're acting like you; what's your choice?”

A crappy choice was still a choice. My own words coming back to bite me. “The collar, of course. Who is going to be my handler?”

“Well, I haven't picked anyone yet. The list is a short one.” Of course, it was; it had to be someone willing and able to put me down if I started randomly killing people. Well... the wrong people. And not only willing, they had to be able; not just anyone would be able to take me if I went off the reservation, even with a full team. I could pretty much count the number of people who had a shot at doing it with my fingers.

I refocused on the Gloom; he hadn't stopped talking. “I can tell you that your team will be part of it.”

That was smart enough; if there was anything left of me when I went off the rails, I might hesitate to kill my old team, allowing them to kill me. Or I might go after them first, giving plenty of warning to set the collar off; really it could go either way.

Irene was wasting no time; she already had the table wheeled up with the collar on it. It was odd, a thin strip of platinum with a weird hook setup on both ends; the front center was slightly bigger and bulged, but the entire thing wasn't obvious and could be mistaken for some odd jewelry by those who didn't know any better. Beside it were two small hand-held trigger detonators; squeezing either would set the necklace off.

Irene reached around me and clicked the collar closed; I stayed very still while she took a tool resembling a screwdriver and tightened it shut. With a final squeak, it was done; the thing wouldn't come off until my head did, now.

Irene put a hand over my eyes. “What the heck?!?”

“Sorry. It's just these idiots forgot a detail. All safe now.”

She removed her hand and the triggers were gone; I didn't know who had which one, which was a reasonable precaution.

“Alright, you've seen it go on Gloom. We are now one hundred percent sure she isn't going to wake up and kill me, or anything similar. So get out, now I need to do my job.”

Her job consisted of poking me with needles and then probing places I had no business having with cold tools she had no business using. Now I knew why Alicia wanted to be a man so badly she disguised as one; I don't think Irene was fooled, though.

I also think one of the needles she poked me with added something instead of taking something; I had no other way to explain how I'd almost killed her twice, dead man's switch be damned, and yet hadn't.

I did find out no one dressed me; there was a time when no one was looking at me, and my clothes just changed. Which seems odd, considering what my body was doing at the time. The clothes change included new underwear of a matching style, something that didn't know whether it wanted to be plain cotton or lace, and chose both instead.

It had to mean something, but what?

Irene snagged my hat; I made a grab for her before everything slowed down, but missed. Something was different in my reach. I watched as she put the thing inside the glass case of a machine and hit buttons and levers for awhile. She threw it back over her shoulder; it landed squarely on my head, and just like that I was back.

“Can you re-size your hat?” Irene asked; she was carefully lowering her tools in some boiling water. Why she couldn't have done that before using them, I'll never know.

“No?” Could I? How would I even do that?

“Hm. Most witches instinctively know a little, usually a few tricks. For most of them, it's hiding their hats; you don't know any way to do that, or anything at all?”

I did know how to imbue my power (or at least what I felt must be my power) into generators. I could probably do it to my guns directly, too. But I had nothing on hats. Heck, I even hated hats... even ones so comfy you could forget you were wearing them.

“No, I got nothing for hats. I do have a way to charge a genny, but that's it.”

“Very odd. So not quite a witch then. At least, that's what it'll say in my official report.” Irene turned away and started cleaning up. There had been quite the vigil while I was out, and they had left a mess. Emil alone would have ensured no staff came down here. “Now get out Sasha, and don't come back.”

She said the same thing every time she saw me. “Sure thing Irene.”

The party was waiting outside, all of them. The Gloom had my guns in his hand.

“Could I have my guns back now, please?” I could be polite!

“I don't think so, Sasha. Not just yet. When you head out, sure. Until then I'll be keeping them. What did Irene say?”

I could deal with that for now, I guess. “She said I wasn't like a real witch. Something about not having the knowledge of one. Are you sure I can't have my guns back? They aren't even loaded.”

Okay, so maybe I couldn't deal with it. Irene had also said I was all woman sometime in that diatribe of hers, but Irene was a hack, and I wasn't able to focus very well when she'd taken my stupid hat.

“Speaking of, you might want to hide yours. Oh, and hand me your clothes.”

I looked at the Gloom as behind him, Plague and Alicia both slapped hands to their faces. Surely I hadn't heard that right, had I?

“What did you just say?” I mean, I wasn't going to display myself in a bra of all things, and we were heading back up to the lobby!

“Oh, right. My bad.” He gestured, and Sylvie handed me a bundle.

“That's your uniform. If you hide your hat, you might be able to pass.”

“If I'm going to try passing, I'll need my guns.” There was no way people wouldn't notice. The Wyld Hunt were all trained to be observant, and while I hadn't seen my own face yet, the changes I had seen would be more than enough to out me.

He sighed, and tossed them on top. “Sure. Just change already, and hide your hat. Use that storeroom there.”

I walked into it and made sure the coast was clear. Since it was standing room only, that wasn't hard to do.

The bundle not only contained a jacket shirt and pants, it contained a generator too. It looked like my generator, but picking it up revealed the truth; it was just the case with nothing else in it. It still had the plugs for my guns, though, so I settled it next to them on the belt, just like always.

The hat was a problem, but I settled for sliding it down the back of my tucked in dress shirt and putting the jacket on over it; The Gloom was always trying to make me dress respectably. The included boots and socks were a size smaller than I should be wearing, but they fit, and it beat going barefoot. Something about them bothered me, though; the design was similar to what I normally wore, but not the same.

“Button the jacket.” The Gloom ordered, and I did so.

We all made it out of medical and hit the lobby. No one gave me a second glance, though some focused on The Gloom or Plague, so that kind of made sense. I guess.

Sarah was on desk duty. “Hello, Mr. Gloom! Oh, Sasha, you're up already?”

“Yep! I'm pretty tough you know.” I winced; I'd just spoke up, forgetting about my new voice.

Sarah didn't notice or appeared not to. She had already turned back to her work. “Right. Good to have you back up and around.”

I was almost past when she looked up. “Sasha?”

We all stopped dead, even The Gloom. “Yes?”

“There's something different about you....”

she put her chin in a hand, leaning in, lost in thought for a moment. The snap of her fingers was as loud as a gunshot. “I've got it!”

“You do?”

“yes, you're wearing a dress shirt!”

Plague grabbed me to make sure I didn't fall over, her face a mute apology. For all the things Sarah could have noticed – the actual bustline, modest though it was, the hips, the hair color, hell even the fact that my eyelashes seemed to be longer somehow, the voice – and the shirt was what she picked up on?

It was fine. I was a man and could deal with the crushing sense of... something. Even if I wasn't a man anymore. But she didn't even know me well enough to notice I'd changed.

The Gloom led us into one of the weapons testing rooms. One of the private and hard to get ones. He just walked right in and told the hunter there to get out. Tall, grizzled and scarred like all our vets, the man left with a shrug. What was his name... oh right, Ash. Ashen Ash, the fire user, not to be confused with Boomstick, the really fun guy at parties.

The Gloom put my robe-dress thing on a target dummy, set it up downrange, and gestured.

“Dustin, could you do the honors? My power is overkill and the Plague's is hard to gauge.”

With a shrug and a look my way (yeah, eff you too buddy) he unlimbered his weapon and charged, slashing at the dummy.

“The clothing of a witch acts much like our own uniforms in a way, drawing strength from the witch and protecting her. Irene confirmed you had power but it may not be the same, so we're testing.”

Dustin completed some combo that was probably meant to be intimidating but just looked silly, finishing it with a move that drenched my dress-robe in water, then blanketed it in ice. The ice didn't stick, and the robe looked fine; I could see the shallow slashes on it from here, but they hadn't gone through and the dummy was still intact.

Man, Dustin was weak.

The Gloom walked up and took his own look, shooting glances my way while Dustin panted counterpoint.

“Well, that works. Usually, the strength of a witch can be determined by the level of attack their clothing can withstand.”

I nodded. Every hunter worth anything knew this. It was how they could survive sneak attacks from long range artillery. The clothing was usually weaker than hunter issue, but the witch usually had more active shields to make up for it. There had even been a theory that the level of a witch's hat taken could increase what attacks the hunter uniform could stand, but that hadn't really been proven.

Gloom continued. “Well, judging from this alone, I'd place you around about average for a witch in strength.”

Dustin laughed. “All that, all this effort and bullshit, and you slid backwards. That's priceless.”

“I'll show you backwards.” I took a step, and everyone tensed.

Sigh, fine. I held my hands up. “Alright, maybe I won't. Don't want to pick on the weak anyway; after all, who couldn't actually go through the cloth on the dummy, Dustin?”

Wow, that was a nice shade of purple he turned. “Any time you stuck up sorry excuse for a hunter! The ice ripple may not have gotten through, but the physical attacks went through like a charm.”

“Ice ripple? Did you actually name an attack ice ripple? Seriously? And the dummy still exists, so clearly something went wrong somewhere.”

“I was trying not to destroy a training room! You know, teach you some restraint, since the staff have to repair one every time you leave?!?”

The Gloom interrupted. “Charming discussion, children, but that was a good point just now. Sasha, your clothing seems to be more effective against magical than purely physical attacks. That is unusual, but not unheard of. It is, however, something to note and plan around; if an enemy gets close you stand a good chance of dying now.”

Well, that was true enough before; I'd always been a ranged fighter. I shrugged at him. He got mad, and turned to the dummy; the room went darker than the depths of a tar pit, oppressive and cloying. I hit the deck, knowing it was already too late.

Neither the dummy nor the dress survived.

The Gloom turned back to me, his eyes leaking black smoke. “This isn't a joke, Sasha. Nor is it a game. Not only do you have a chance of dying from witches, now you could well die from our own. I have to tell the other hunters; we wouldn't be able to hide this for long.”

He said that as if my chances of dying weren't stupid high before, with high level witches actively seeking my death. At least now I had a weapon I couldn't be deprived of in the fight; I could feel it under my skin, like a warm sluggish current or secondary blood system. But I wasn't about to tell him that. Any of it.

I was pretty sure he knew anyway.

“Alright. We have this room for the day. No one is leaving; Sasha, I suggest you practice.”

He stood there, hands in pockets, staring at me.

“Uh, don't I need my ammo for that?” I already knew the guns were empty, they were too light. There weren't any clips in the jacket either.

“Do you?”

I nodded. So we were playing that game.

“Alright, everyone else, practice things now.” They didn't have to be told twice; even Plague.

Gloom was close; I backpedaled but his hand reached out and latched onto my shoulder. The touch was oddly gentle but had no give. His other hand reached down and cupped my chin, making sure our eyes met. “Alright Sasha; what can you do? Anything at all?”

“I, uh, can't do anything. If you're expecting me to know that kind of crap, you're going to be disappointed. The only thing I can say I know for sure to do is charge a generator, and that's probably because I watched Merlin do it.”

He let go and assumed his thinker pose, which was basically just standing around with a hand propped under his chin. “Hm, a result of the lack of a familiar? Or something else... We've never had a witch 'born' without a familiar, so....”

I had to interrupt him, or he would theory me to death.“I don't know. But I can still practice other things. Moving, dodging, stuff like that. I just want you to know I can't do anything crazy.”

Okay, what had I ever done to deserve that look?

Okay, this week?

“Fine, I'll believe you. I'll be right back with some generators. For now, work on your CQC; warm up, and do the moves she taught you.”

Not, 'I believe you' or 'you're telling the truth', but 'I'll believe you', as if it was only his choice. “Which ones?” I did know several, after all.

“Whatever you want. I intend to field you as soon as possible, so you need to work the kinks out.”

Well, that at least was good news; I was half worried he'd keep me in central pushing papers. Plague tapped me on the shoulder – and I had heard her sneaking up on me before. I was in no way surprised, and I will swear to that. I most certainly did not give out the squeak of a stomped mouse and whirl around so fast my hair smacked my eyes.

Plague didn't say anything about it. “Want help with that? We could spar or just go through the motions; I know what you were taught after all.” Her grin was small and genuine, and not at all threatening; she didn't even show her teeth.

It was creepy.

“Um, sure.”

I started stretching, and Plague joined me after a moment. And boy, could I stretch. Muscles I was sure I didn't have moved in well-oiled concert, almost perfectly. Things were ever so slightly off, and I was sure Plague noticed.

Dustin and Ivan apparently noticed too; I grinned as Alicia clocked Dustin in the head after he stopped dead in the middle of a spar; that will teach him to stare at me! Rat-bastard. If he whips out a camera I'll kill him, bomb or no bomb.

I started with what I used most, and Plague frowned but followed along. My punches lacked some of their snap and my effective reach had changed, I could feel it. My kicking arc was different, and my balance was shot.

The Gloom returned before I could make some real headway in those departments, bearing a cart with more than a dozen generators on it. I sighed and looked at my fist; all the calluses were gone.

I recognized some of the generators, just like the Gloom had said; there was Ivan's, and Alicia's, put back together; there was Marcone's and Deet's, and right there was Fred's, and over there was... Sinister Sally's.

Most of the generators were unmarked, belonging to new or unknown hunters, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. One the one hand, one EARNED their place among the Wyld Hunt, usually by killing a witch with as little charge in their genny to start with as we could manage; for some, that was zero. On the other hand, putting any charge into a newbies genny the old fashioned way (or even just equipping them) only to have them die was a waste. The Gloom was clearly wanted to stop or slow that down; who knows, maybe sending newbies out with fully charged generators will help? Not that I could see how exactly, a newbie was a newbie.

The other generators, however....

Marcone, Fred, and Deet were veterans, all a year or so older than I was, all with at least a dozen confirmed kills to their credit. Well Fred might not be that high yet, but he was close; the three were good solid hunters, who from just judging how bad their gennys looked, all got hit hard. But all three were usually on different teams, and their team-mates gennys weren't on the cart.

Sinister Sally worked alone; she was like Plague in that she used generator enhanced poisons, but unlike Plague in that she preferred to use them as a poisoner would; from a distance and over time. She was the Wyld Hunt's assassin, killing witches too powerful and high profile for most using means even the Hunt found questionable. To have her generator here meant she had tried all her usual tricks, running it empty – and failed to get the kill.

“Go ahead Sasha.”

I realized I'd been staring while The Gloom had been getting more impatient. At least he wasn't biting my head off. I decided not to test my luck.

The first generator was unmarked, and as I thought, it was an empty blank. With a shrug I filled it and moved on; someone was going to get a nice surprise.

Then I realized I was an idiot. Well, a smart idiot, but even smart guys (or gals) can screw up sometimes! Filling all these would probably be impossible for me. But The Gloom hadn't said fill them, he'd said give them a charge; how much was up to me. Generators were all standard in capacity; there weren't any tricks there. They had to be when carrying anymore charge made them unstable bombs more dangerous to the hunter than the prey. So using the first as a guide, I realized I could probably half fill them.

An hour of mind-numbing tedium later, and it was done. And if Sinister Sally's generator had just a little less than half charge, well no one would know but me... and possibly her. It was for a good cause since just getting it close had made me dizzy. And given me some of the symptoms of my hat being gone, when it clearly wasn't.

For the first time in an hour, someone spoke in the room. “That's the best I can do. Sally's is a bit less than half, but it's as close as I can make it right now.”

Now why had I said that? The perfect crime, and I'd unmasked it!

“I'll be sure to tell her. The others?”

“All half charge.” I wasn't about to tell him about the first. He'd chew me out over proper recharging or whatever.

“Alright, that will do. Go get some rest, Sasha; you look like you could use it.”

I didn't want to get some rest; I'd just been in bed a few hours ago. But moving was such a chore right now. “Alright.”

The Gloom looked surprised when I headed for the door. What?

“I do still use my old room, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I just expected more of an argument.”

I was too tired for that. I was even too tired to object when the Plague came along, attaching herself firmly to my hip for the walk. We didn't earn more than a second glance, and more than a few people waved at me while firmly ignoring Plague.

I was not too tired to object to her getting into bed with me.

“Get out vile woman!”

She just laughed. Just laughed! If my guns were loaded, I'd... well I'd probably not shoot at her; it might piss her off and she was better than me.

“Sleep well, Sasha.” she said, blowing a kiss at me and backing out the door, still laughing.

I couldn't really move all that well, but my eyes worked. My room had been ransacked. Oh, it still looked mostly the same, with the trash and clothes in almost the same spots, but it was ever so slightly off. A rush job, and if I ever found out who, they were getting fired. The one thing I was certain of, was all that all of my ammunition and bullet making equipment was gone.

I was defenseless.

Nothing I could really do about it. Maybe whoever it was stationed outside would protect me if I needed it. Maybe not.

…....

“So, what do you think?” she asked, rejoining the others where those in the know were quarantined.

“He... No, she – was able to half charge a dozen generators alone, in one sitting. If Merlin and Irene are right, and her connection is incomplete... well, her blood tells. As it stands now, she's mid-range for them; even without the new jewelry a team could dispatch her. If I have to, Sally can do it; she's back in Central with a freshly charged generator.”

“Devious.” Plague countered.

Gloom shrugged. “Not really, her latest target took every poison she could make and laughed. Found her, confronted her on it, then let her live. Her title as one of the four is well earned.”

“Well, you did warn Sally when she took the contract, didn't you? Your hands are clean.”

Gloom shrugged again, absorbed in watching the kids fight. “Hardly clean, but of course I warned her; I do what I can. It's all falling apart, Tonya. I thought we'd have another generation, that I wouldn't see it, but it's happening now; they get stronger each year, and we get weaker. We won't be able to keep up at all five years from now, no matter what I do. Within twenty it'll just be witches fighting among themselves for what's left.”

Plague slugged him in the shoulder then sat beside him, pulling out a flask. “Enough of that, though I agree with you. Unless something changes, humanity is done. But that's why we're trying to change things. It's also why I don't murder you for doing unspeakable things to my sister's cute little apprentice; humanity needs you too much.”

Gloom sighed and took the proffered flask. “At this point, I'm not sure I'd stop you. Maybe you should have this job.”

Tonya watched as he drained the flask, frowning. “You were supposed to share. We both know I'm not strong enough for the job; the leader is supposed to be the strongest, and that's you. And in another few years, it was supposed to be Sasha. Too bad on that.”

Gloom shuddered, passing the empty flask back. “I actually think we dodged a bullet there.”

Tonya put the flask away, in the secret compartment built specifically into her generator. “I don't know. The kid's smarter than you think. Maybe smarter than we both think. I can almost see the gears working; she was testing you earlier.”

“Oh?”

“You gave her a bomb collar. She put it on without question. Complied with every order you gave, didn't smack Irene around for something unpleasant she has no frame of reference for and something most of us would, and the only thing she asked you for in return were her guns. The guns that are the only thing Sasha has left of her. Not the ammo; she never asked for the ammo, just the guns. And until it was necessary for appearance's sake, you wouldn't hand them over.”

Tonya stood, offering a hand. “You failed that one, Gloom. You're seeing a witch already when you should be seeing a person who was willing to give everything to protect their friends and see a mission through. Now let's go, we have an unpleasant announcement to make; I know you hoped for one, but there isn't any way to hide what happened; it'll only make things worse.”

Gloom took the hand and stood. They walked out shoulder to shoulder.