Oh it was the right song. The rhythm, the beat, the atmosphere.

  She moved.

  With every beat she took a hundred steps, and this was a really fast paced song. Four hundred beats per minute to be exact.

  It was less of a song and more of an orchestra of noise. But music was music. The sound of the ocean, the songs of a bird, the beat of a drum, it all moved her.

  All of it.

  If you had to ask Rhythm to define her wish, she would frown. It was in her name wasn’t it?

  Music made her feel stuff. It made everyone feel stuff, but with her, those feelings of freedom and joy, of power and conquest. That gym playlist you pumped to motivate you, that would give her more than just motivation.

  Her feelings became reality. It all depended on the song.

  Though there were some drawbacks. She had to save her good songs. She had to time her good listens. She couldn’t just listen to a song over and over again, especially not the ones she loved.

  Music was a resource and if she used the good songs too much, then they wouldn’t make her feel anything. And then they’d be useless.

  But they’d come back eventually. Nostalgia would energize them.

  But that was beside the point.

  Samantha had taught herself to appreciate all types of music. Jazz, rap, rock, techno, and all of their thousands of derivatives. From classical orchestra to heavy metal to Tuvan throat singing, she loved it all.

  This specific song was a video game soundtrack. Those tended to be the one of the better motivators for her, especially if she had played the game.

  She ripped through the drones in a matter of seconds.

  Songs granted her abilities, each based on how they made her feel. Some made her faster, some made her stronger.

  One time, she had listened to a really bad song and everything around her had rotted. Her wish was technically Major S, but her combat application varied moment by moment so she was considered a Major A combatant.

  But that was more than enough for this.

  She leaped from building to building, her legs propelling her at every beat. While her powers changed based on the song, one thing remained the same.

  The rhythm. No matter the song, no matter the abilities, she always moved on beat. She always danced perfectly.

  The drums rolled, and she ping ponged off of several buildings at twice the speed of sound, taking out tens of drones in an instant.

  She was almost done.

  But then the drones gathered in one spot, like a sentient hive and just stared. They looked at her, as much as a drone could look, and scattered.

  That was strange. If they recognized, which they should, they should have known escape was impossible.

  She wasn’t the best hero to have ever lived but Samantha was well known. She was a Major A.

  “Something smart,” she whispered.

  The soundtrack of a detective show started playing. It was a rising crescendo of enlightenment, a blossoming of knowledge.

  And her brain thought.

  The world seemed to slow down as her perception sped up.

  Now why would the drones do that?

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  Their durability means so little that clumping together wouldn’t make a noticeable difference. Well these were combat drones, they could all shoot at her but all her songs gave her some base enhancements. As long as she was listening to something, they couldn’t take her down.

  “Ah,” she smiled.

  They didn’t need to take her down. They were just going to try and distract her long enough to kill that guy and what was the best way to distract a hero?

  Endangering a civilian.

  Rhythm’s eyes searched the area, finding their target before they could.

  “Fast,” she breathed.

  And the song boomed.

  She ran, picking up the pedestrian standing there with his phone out before the shots had even been fired. Again she zipped through the streets, removing every random bystander that she could get before the drones could fire at them.

  “Faster,” she demanded. And the tempo picked up. The music blared and Rhythm was crushing through the drones. Their parts scattered into scrap metal, and before a single one of them could even turn to see her they were all nothing but broken parts.

  She searched the area, looping around the region for those rogue combat drones, but she found nothing.

  Once the coast was clear she was back by the dumpster and looking at the man in the crow costume.

  It was a piece of junk, at least when compared to the gear that Rhythm had seen and worked with. But that's besides the point. This vig had investigated this whole thing by himself up until now, so she let him clone the phone, just to see where it would lead him.

  She wasn’t against vigs, she had been one herself after all. But the problem was that the phone might be considered as compromised evidence for the sentencing, not that it mattered. They would have readers comb through the man’s mind and find out exactly what he knew.

  At best, he would be rehabilitated, at worst he would be sent to the Second Moon.

  Either way, the union would know his identity and be able to collect genetic information. They had trackers and could keep an eye on him with no effort.

  “Alright,” she said, pulling the stinking man out of the dumpster. “Who is it?”

  “My- my family. He’ll ki- kill them. He’ll--”

  “I already contacted the Union, your family is safe and secure. IF you participate, they can hope the same for you,” the Crow chimed in.

  The shifter looked around, looking somewhat distraught.

  “Actually--” PunchStar started.

  But Rhythm stopped her. While Heroes couldn’t make false threats like that, vigilantes lived in a whole different world. And while the Union would get this information out of him, one way or another, she probably wouldn’t be involved. Cases like this would be worked on by tinkers and holms-types and while she could help with that, she hated doing all that leg work.

  “Whimshiemer,” the man shivered. “I work for a man called Whimshiemer.”

  “Who’s that?” QuickNick asked.

  “Chemist tinker, makes drugs, possibly EJ but stays out of the limelight enough for the Heroes Union not to focus on him.”

  “He- he’s watching man. He’s watching right now!” The shifter squirmed.

  “Smart,” Rhythm whispered as she scanned the area for signs of drones.

  QuickNick and PunchStar did the same but the Crow seemed to lock in on something. An animal, an owl standing on a fence post, watching them with such purpose that it looked almost inhuman.

  “The owl?” She asked.

  “A few pyros, one strongman, and an animal communicator. Those are said to be in his gang,” the Crow replied.

  “Hello!” Rhythm waved as she walked closer to the owl. “Can you see me?”

  The bird flew backwards, landing on a fire hydrant.

  Rhythm, who was still listening to that smart soundtrack, turned. How did the bird know where the fire hydrant was?

  Well that was obvious, wasn’t it? Because another bird was watching them. Her eyes scanned the area and she noticed quite a large number of animals watching them.

  “You must be a Major C at least!” She yelled. “This is a whole lot of exertion just to watch this, no?”

  The animals kept on staring.

  She smiled just a little wider.

  “Something ethereal and naturey,” Rhythm spoke.

  An old folk song came on, a mix of pan flutes and banjos.

  It was a song of freedom, of nature, and more importantly, of connection.

  She felt the animals touch her, and at the same time, she felt the mind intruding in on them.

  “Hello!” She waved.

  A sense of overwhelming fear came down from the other side. Terror so bleak it sent the animals scattering into the wind.

  “Awe,” Rhythm frowned. “She’s gone.”

  Oh well.

  “They’re gone now! You can leave without being tracked, we’ll handle the clean up. Thanks for your hard work!” She said, waving at the Crow.

  He gave her a restrained nod and took off quickly.

  What a smart guy, he was about to take off as soon as the animals scattered. His engines were already throttling, meaning he was already thinking of the possibilities of being tracked.

  Good on him, she thought. A little edgy with the whole Crow motif and threats he gives out, but hey, if it works it works.

  Then she stepped forward, intending to get as much info as she could from the dumpster man.

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