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He should’ve listened to Seth when he’d said Nick should practice getting into his costume under a time constraint. Nick had told Seth he should show him how it was done first, innocently batting his eyes. This had been a mistake, because the moment Seth had stripped off his shirt, Nick had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

Wasting no time, Nick shoved his feet into the legs. He nearly brained himself against the wall as he pulled the costume up and over his shoulders, running his hand up the chest on a nearly invisible seam Mateo had come up with. That done, he grabbed his boots and practically jumped into them.

And last, the helmet, Gibby picking it up and handing it over. A familiar sense ofrightnesswashed over him as the helmet settled on his head, vision growing sharper. A polyphonic tone played, light and happy, before the wordsWELCOME, GUARDIANappeared before his eyes.

“Lighthouse,” he said, voice deeper through the modulator in his helmet. “Do you read me?”

A beat of silence. Then, “Lighthouse here.” Jazz. “What’s going on? Why’d you come online, Nick? I thought you and Gibby were—”

Nick coughed pointedly as he picked up his clothes, putting them in his backpack and handing it over to Gibby, who slung it over her shoulder.

“Nick? You there?”

He coughed again as apparently the first time wasn’t pointed enough.

Jazz groaned. “Seriously? You’re really—fine.Guardian,I read you loud and clear, you absolute nerd. What’s going on?”

“Owen,” Guardian spat. “Burke’s having a press conference at Dad’s old precinct. Mom saw him and called me. I don’t know what he’s doing, but we can’t let anyone get hurt.”

“What?Why didn’t she let us know through the app? We didn’t get—hold on.” Background talk, faint, muffled. Then Jazz’s voice came back. “Seth is suiting up. He’ll meet you there. You want me to put out the word for Miss Conduct?” He could hear her typing furiously in the background.

“Yeah,” Guardian said as he looked up at the tall building next to him, trying to psych himself up for what would come next. He didn’t know how he’d deal having Gibby with him, but he was a goddamn superhero. He’d figure it out. “Make sure she knows not to approach until we’re all there.”

“Will do.” A beat. Then, “I’ve got your position. You’re still ten blocks away. How are you and Gibby going to get there? Did you figure out how to fly since yesterday?”

Guardian took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m goingto run up the side of this building and then leap from roof to roof. I’ll carry Gibby with me.”

Jazz and Gibby burst out laughing.

Guardian did not.

“Oh my god,” Gibby said as she struggled to breathe. “You’reserious? Nicky, what the hell, man. You’re not going to carry me anywhere.” She pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen quickly. Nick heard the familiar polyphonic tones as she entered their app. “Jazz, can you hear me?”

“Hi, babe! Don’t let Nick carry you. I think he’ll probably end up dropping you. I like your body shaped the way it is.”

“Noted,” Gibby said, still chuckling. “It might be quicker to just take a cab.”

“Superheroes don’t take cabs,” Guardian growled dangerously.

“A Lyft, then.”

“Gibby!”

“Don’t yell at her,” Jazz said. “She’s right, which is why I’ve already ordered you a Lyft. Someone was close. It’ll be there in a minute outside of the alley.”

“That’s my girl,” Gibby said.

“Goddammit,fine.Lighthouse, we’re heading for the Lyft. Keep us in the loop when you hear back from Miss Conduct.” He ran-limped toward the gate that led back onto the street, Gibby mocking him by doing the same.

“On it. Your driver is named Gerald. He’ll be in a… wow. A van that doesn’t look like it has windows. But! He’s got a really good rating, so I don’t think he’ll take you to his basement where he’ll sing about wanting to wear your skin.”

“Oh my god,” Guardian mumbled as he crossed through the gateway. “We really need to find better ways to do this.”

He reached the sidewalk and froze, Gibby bumping into him, causing him to stumble forward. The van wasn’t there, but there were many,manypeople on the sidewalk, and they all stopped and stared.

He waved at them awkwardly. “Hey. How you doing? Good, I hope. Don’t mind me. I’m just… doing my thang.” Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his finger guns.“Pew. Pew… pew.”

“This is the best day ever,” Gibby announced to no one in particular.