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As they went into a more industrialised area of town, the streets grew darker: a few of the streetlights had popped out, covering the area in gloom. Sick of the streets, Wisp hopped over to the side of a building, a small carpark -- she went to the fire escape and started clambering up, beckoning to Chris.

"We'll be able to see stuff this way," she said, sounding exhilarated. Without waiting, she started heading up the rickety stairs. There was more than that at the top -- suddenly, at the highest level, she looked up and ducked her head down just in case she had been seen. When Christian reached her position, the top level of the carpark was flooded in darkness -- but there was a man with a crowbar at a car, trying to pry into the door.

"It's a burglar," hissed Wisp. "Jackpot!"

And obviously feeling that justice waiteth for no man, she ducked her head up again and vaulted over the side of the lower wall. She was running at the car-thief before Chris could grab her or even think about grabbing her, legs pumping, skidding to a halt before the erstwhile car-battery wannabe.

"You are UNDER ARREST for trespassing on the right of people to own cars," she said. "Give it up, bud!"

The car thief looked at the little girl; then he looked at the car, and then back at the little girl. Then he swore. "I'm not going back to goddamn jail for this, kid," he said. "I am not having a snot-nosed witness -- "

"What's that even meant to mean, mister -- "

There was a yelp as Wisp was spun into the thief: he had put the crow-bar over her throat, her blue eyes wide with surprise and even slight interest that the criminal was going to perpetrate violence. That was kind of awesome.

There was nothing quite as terrifying as having something that looked like Chris lumber towards you in the dark. The car-thief scrabbled, even as Wisp flailed.

"Well, so did you," she shouted back, "how come you can jump off a building but I can't?"

"Stay away!" As well as the crowbar around her neck, the thief had flailed for a gun: the barrel was placed squarely at Wisp's head. She didn't look impressed. "I mean it, freak! I'll blow her brains out! Stay right where you are!"

"Don't worry about me, Chris!" she shouted. "He's guilty of kidnapping and hostage-taking! And don't you dare call my best friend a freak."

Good to his word, the man dropped the crowbar -- this was a mistake -- and pulled the trigger. The gun went off right into the side of Wisp Darnell's head.

This might have ended badly had the bullet not impacted on an immediate radiant half-shield, built up suddenly around the curve of Wisp's skull, the bullet exploding into tiny pieces of shrapnel -- some of which embedded themselves in the man's face. The barrel of the gun also warped beyond recognition, as though it had been dipped in molten lava. The not-so-hostage pulled away, picking up the crowbar, little arms heaving until she gave up: instead, she whirled her finger again and produced the curling ribbon of rainbow, long enough for her to say "Chris, catch!" and toss the length of metal to her partner.

Not that he needed it, but he could totally bend it into handcuffs or something. She panted with exertion.

"Do what?" she said curiously, even as the man swore up a storm, contributing new vocabulary to Chris' much-needed swear diary. "The whip thing? I've been working on it, secret training. That crowbar was heavy, though. I feel like I just ran a marathon."

" -- goddamn crazy freak kids -- "

Wisp scratched her head in confusion. She herself had not noticed the shock-absorption of the sudden prismatic rainbows that stopped her from becoming a pizza on the sidewalk, and though she had heard the retort of the gun, she had felt no pain and never frankly been scared throughout the entire ordeal. "It wasn't that far to jump, was it?"

Then she looked up the building: "Okay," she said, "wow. That is pretty far to jump. Wow."

" -- swear I'll kill you, especially the big black monster -- "

"It's so cool how you just bent it," said Wisp, distracted a little, "you were so cool, the coolest. You're so wonderful, Chris, and -- what bullet thing?" she asked belatedly.

Wisp attempted to conjure up a rainbow to see by; consternated, nothing came. "There's not enough colour here," she said, "and I don't have any sprinkles. I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

As she hunted on her hands and knees, the man spit at Chris. "I don't want to see anything of yours, freak!" he said. "Goddamn freak!"

The man did not speak again.

"Found it," announced Wisp, and she bounded over with the earring in tow. She hugged into Christian's arm happily as she rested her cheek there: as happy and mild-manneredly innocent as though none of it had ever happened. "Let's go get pizza. Oh, wait -- "

She puttered over to the thief, still handcuffed on the ground, and yanked down his shirt with a finger. Then she wrote just below the nape of his neck in black:

THIEF!

"It's not even about the stealing," she said in disgust, when she stood up again and brushed herself down. "It's about stealing the right things. Who needs to steal a car anyway? That's just gross."