Free The Indestructibles (Book 3): The Entropy of Everything by Matthew Phillion Page A

care.
          Where am I? Kate thought. What do I become? Am I monster as well? Or am I dead and gone, like Billy, my life ended in some poorly planned attempt at exceeding my own abilities?
          Kate wondered also what it would take to kill someone like Billy, protected as he was by the alien powers of Straylight. She'd hosted the alien for a while when Billy was incarcerated. She hadn't had a chance to really test the limits of those powers, but she knew how she'd felt, invincible, filled to the brim with power. Those powers would protect you, she thought, but they could also make you reckless, until some day eventually, everything fails you.
          Alien guardian angels and friends both.
          She found the studio, lights out, music playing softly from a small, battery-operated radio. A dim glow seeped in through foggy skylights. In the darkness, a woman danced.
          There's a language to dance. Some people become fluent in it and speak their emotions through movement—punctuation through the bend of a limb, exclamation via striated muscle. It is a manner of speaking that doesn't always require fluency to comprehend. Kate had seen people who never understood the intricacies of dance break down in tears at the sight of a performance. Though unable to explain why it cracked something deep inside them, why they remained inconsolable, their primal self clearly read the tale the dancer was trying to express.
          But if you are a dancer, and if you're lucky, you can read the story in the dance almost like words on a page.
          This dancer spun a tragic drama. A broken ballet, bastardized with pieces of modern, aggressive, frustrated, angry steps, feet landing hard and furious on the floor. She focused on working some inner dialogue out, a cry for help, for forgiveness, for a second chance. She moved across the floor like water.
          Kate Miller, the vigilante Dancer, does not feel sadness, she often told herself. I don't have time to feel sad. It makes nothing better, it does not bring back the dead, it fixes nothing.
          And yet, watching this woman dance, she felt her heart break in two. Kate stifled a sob with her fist, teeth biting into the fabric of a glove.
          Why does this dance hurt so much? she thought.
          The woman turned and Kate saw her own face, eyes covered with a blindfold, a cruel scar running up her forehead and into her hairline. She untied the blindfold. Sightless eyes looked back at her.
          "I can hear you," future-Kate said. "Who are you? Not one of Titus's little puppies."
          Kate didn't answer. She simply stared. Her future self was all lean muscle, but frailer, without the fighting strength Kate herself carried in her shoulders and back. This future self really did look like a ballerina, strong but slender, yet showing the affects of the vigilante life in the scar tissue visible on the bare flesh of her arms and chest.
          "Now, I know who you are," the sightless woman said.
          "Of course you do," Kate said.
          "Annie came back," future-Kate said. "I was hoping I'd be smart enough not to come with her, but you came along anyway."
          Future-Kate walked toward the far wall, placed her fingertips against it, then followed the edge until she found a water bottle on the floor. She took a long sip.
          "We shouldn't have come here," Kate said.
          Her future self nodded in agreement.
          "We don't deserve the help," she said. "We had our chance. We failed at every turn."
          "What happened to you," Kate said. "To us."
          The future dancer shook her head.
          "Do you ever feel inferior to them?" she said.
          "What?" Kate asked.
          "To the other Indestructibles," the dancer said. "What a ridiculous name. The Indestructibles. Is that what you're called in your timeline?"
          "It is," Kate said.
          "The