It was like the visions with Assistant and Mind Meld, but the edges were hazier, like there was more darkness around them. It was stupid, but she imagined she was going inside his real head rather than the liminal space that she guessed Assistant thought in.

It was more fuzzy than a film—more like a dream—but because she was awake, it was clearer than any other dream she'd had.

Ian's living room fell into focus, and she could see the bookcase to one side, indeed filled with unwrapped comic books.

Kaylee looked older now, morphing between her toddler self and the 4 or 5-year-old before Tanya, now—well, before Ian. Tanya only realised at this moment that she was within Ian's body, even though that felt like it should be obvious.

Aside from sight, all her senses were so far away.

If she focused hard, she could just about smell the vanilla candle on the mantlepiece, just about hear the cars on the street outside.

It was like stepping into an old pair of shoes. Tanya became more and more Ian as he watched his daughter flick through a comic book. She could see Ian's features in her face—a long nose, fluffy hair. But somehow she could see his wife's features in her too. Just from a look, she could see Lisa's lips and eye colour. She didn't think Ian had even told her his wife's name; she just knew.

The more she questioned it, the more misty it got, pulling her out of this mind that wasn't her own, as if the more she thought of herself outside of this, the more of an intruder she was, and the more she was repelled from the scene.

So, instead, she let herself relax into it.

• • • • • • • • •

The afternoon light pooled across the carpet in the main room, warm and lazy, as Kaylee sat cross-legged with a stack of comic books spread like treasure around her. She was five, serious in her concentration, her little finger tracing each panel as if the pictures might reveal their secrets if she just looked hard enough.

Ian leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching. Seeing her enjoying the same comics he'd loved for so many years made his heart swell. The quiet was unusual—normally, Kaylee narrated every page out loud, complete with sound effects.

He knew he should study, really. She was entertained, and that never lasted long, but instead, he wanted to share it with her.

"Whatcha reading, kiddo?" he asked, stepping closer.

She glanced up, pigtails shifting. "Supergirl." Then, after a pause: "Dad… why aren't there any real superheroes?"

Ian crouched down beside her. "There are. Just not the kind with capes and laser eyes."

Kaylee wrinkled her nose, unconvinced. "That's boring."

Ian sat down beside her. "What kind of superhero would you be?"

Kaylee lit up. "I could be a superhero?"

"Anyone can be a superhero. That's why it's so hard to find them" Ian circled his hands around his eyes like binoculars, looking around in an exaggerated motion.

Kaylee laughed.

"Heroes need powers," Kaylee declared. "Like Supergirl has flight and super hearing AND laser eyes."

"Aha, not all superheroes," Ian said, running his finger along the comic book spines. "Batman, Green Arrow, Hawkeye."

Kaylee furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, they definitely need a costume."

Ian thought for a moment, then grinned. "What if… we made our own?"

By evening, the two of them had canvassed half the building for discarded cardboard—pizza boxes, delivery crates, cereal cartons—carrying it home in wobbly stacks that made them laugh the whole way. In the living room, scissors and markers became their sidekicks.

Kaylee's creation was a cardboard dress taped over her pyjamas, decorated with crooked stars and a crown cut from the flap of an Amazon box.

Ian's costume grew into a suit of clumsy armour: shoulder plates from a refrigerator box, a helmet that shifted round when he turned his head, a superhero mask scrawled in shaky marker.

• • • • • • • • •

The moment Ian's cardboard superhero costume appeared, her attention was split. Somehow, she could see the world around her and the memory at the same time. Only, the design was there. She could see it like it were real.

Tanya remembered her Overlay leveling and wondered if this was it.

"It's perfect Ian," Tanya whispered into the room. Ian's eyes were open, but he was so far away. "It's fuckin' perfect."

She could tell he couldn't hear her.

The lines along Ian's chin became realistic cardboard shin guards, line by line.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Olena!' she called.

"Present!" Olena called behind her.

Tanya didn't turn around. The tattoo gun pulled her onwards.

"I want me second tattoo gun. Looks like this, but black instead of silver. Should be in that big storage cupboard."

Olena immediately passed it to her—or it felt like it. Tanya realised how much time she was losing in the memory. Time was so fast around her, the lines felt like they were pulling her into the memory further.

"Mrs Eceer—" Tanya tried, before being pulled back in.

"I'm Superdad!" Ian announced, drawing an 'S' and a 'D' on the cardboard chest piece. He made the letters thick enough to hide the giant logo from the self-cleaning litter box the neighbours had bought for Mittens.

"And I'm…" Kaylee scrawled a wonky 'D' and 'G', giggling before blurting, "Daughtergirl!"

The title alone made her collapse into laughter, and soon Ian joined in, his helmet slipping sideways.

They charged into the alleyway together, cardboard thunking with every move, inventing villains in the shadows of brick walls, saving invisible citizens from puddles, shouting out catchphrases that turned the heads of passersby. The first couple of times, Ian felt a little embarrassment, but all he had to do was look at Kaylee's face to banish it.

For a while, it felt like the world had shrunk to just them—their creasing paper capes, their laughter, their small corner of the universe.

Then the first raindrops began to fall. Slow at first, then quicker, dotting Kaylee's cardboard crown until it sagged. She frowned, lower lip trembling.

Ian knelt, wiping a wet strand of hair from her cheek. "Hey. You know what rain means?"

Kaylee shook her head.

"It means the mission's over. Even superheroes have to eat dinner and brush their teeth before bed. That's how they get strong for their next adventure."

"Even Supergirl?" Kaylee asked.

"Especially Supergirl."

"Hmph," Kaylee said. She turned to him hopefully. "Superheroes get adventurers all the time, right?"

Ian smiled, his chest filling with love. "We can be superheroes again tomorrow."

"Yesss!"

Behind them, Ian heard a car pull onto the pavement. He didn't need to tell Kaylee.

Kaylee gasped. "MUM!" she yelled, running around the corner.

Ian jogged behind her, trying to pick up the never-ending trail of damp cardboard she left in her wake.

Tanya had no clue how long had passed. "Mrs Eceer?" she tried again.

"Yes, Tanya," Mrs Eceer replied, right behind her.

"Where's the—" she tried to remember the word, finally pulling the tattoo gun away from Ian's skin and looking around. The world was hazy beyond her canvas. None of this was real. The memory was real. No—the memory wasn't real. This was real.

"We gave the tattoo gun to Assistant—that's what you wanted, right?" Mrs Eceer said, her voice slow and calm.

"Yes, that's—yes." Tanya noticed Assistant tattooing his other leg. She looked around even more wildly, seeing both the alleyway and the tattoo parlour in one twisted circus mirror. She was failing to separate what she could see in the memory from the world around her.

How am I tattooin'? What am I doin'?

Her voice was too high in her head. She was Ian. No, she wasn't Ian.

She saw a glimpse of the shop again. Her Overlay was still there—like some strange projector casting the lines onto his skin. It was all through instinct. Every line–every area of shadow and stippling. She wasn't thinking. She wasn't in control of what she was doing.

Her heart rate sped up. She stumbled backwards.

Large hands gripped Tanya's shoulders, steadying her.

"M-Mrs Eceer?" Tanya stammered. She couldn't turn around to look. The tattoo was locking her attention.

"Yes, it's me," Mrs Eceer said.

Tanya relaxed into her touch. "I—"

"What do you need from me, Tanya?" she asked, just as calmly.

Tanya. I'm Tanya.

"We are protecting him. It's all armour—cardboard armour," she spat out, communicating it before she lost her train of thought.

The hands left Tany's shoulders, and she was floating again.

Kaylee…Ian…Tanya…

"Tanya, can you see this?" Mrs Eceer asked, drawing a Sharpie dot onto Ian's ankle.

Her overlay looked even more like a projector image now. For a moment, it even failed to sense Mrs Eceer's body entering frame, strangely overlaying over her, then shuddering out.

"Yes," Tanya said.

"Integrate my lines into the design. That's all you have to do. Okay?" Mrs Eceer said.

"Yes."

Tattooing.

Tanya snapped back into action, the lines once again flowing from her tattoo gun.

The overlay shifted and melded until Tanya couldn't tell what was her overlay and what was Mrs Eceer's neat diagrams.

Kaylee barreled into her mother's legs, her soggy cape dragging on the pavement. Lisa bent down, laughing as she scooped her up. "What on earth—? Did you two raid the recycling again?"

Ian followed, helmet tucked under his arm. For a moment, he just watched: Kaylee's arms looped tight around Lisa's neck, Tanya's smile breaking through the drizzle. It pulled him back years, to when they were just two kids in love, before rent and bills and the creeping sense of falling behind. His chest ached with it.

"Daddy's Superdad now!" Kaylee declared. "And I'm Daughtergirl! Can we have pizza for dinner? Pleeeease?"

Lisa glanced at Ian over their daughter's head. One look was enough. He saw the tiredness in her eyes, the quick calculation she was making—the same numbers he'd been pushing to the back of his mind. He managed a small smile to match hers.

"Not tonight, bug," Ian said gently.

"Why not?" Kaylee pouted.

"Because even superheroes have to eat proper food," Lisa answered, kissing the side of her daughter's head.

"And save money for their secret missions," Ian added, his voice light but his stomach tightening.

Kaylee groaned dramatically, already distracted by peeling her damp crown off. Tanya laughed softly, carrying her toward the door, but Ian lingered a second in the rain. The armour sagged in his hands, edges softening.

The design began to morph and change in Tanya's overlay. Tattooed raindrops appeared all over him, the cardboard melting just as it was in the memory. She was scared of what would happen if she kept tattooing down this new path, but she couldn't stop.

There were exclamation marks all over her vision as the old design and the new one failed to connect. These lines were too straight and pristine for this new design.

This wasn't the same memory anymore.

No, no, no.

"Ian, we need to go back to before," Tanya said. The tattoo gun was still buzzing against his skin.

"Someone!" Tanya yelled. "Pull me back!"

A strong hand gripped her tattoo gun's handle, pulling it upright. The design was unfinished. It felt beyond wrong to stop right now. Her arm continued to pull, to finish the design, but beneath Mrs Eceer's grip, it didn't move a muscle.

"What's going on?" Mrs Eceer asked.

Now, in the memory, they were talking at the dinner table.

A pile of urgent bills.

A spreadsheet of numbers that didn't add up.

"Fuck," Tanya said. "The memory has changed. It isn't the cardboard suit anymore It's—it's melting in the rain—it's—it's—"

The armour's design sagged under its own wet weight—bills papier-mached over the cardboard to keep it up, helmet slipping down to cover his eyes, the cape behind him now made of stitched together 5-pound notes. It didn't look like a hero costume at all now. It made him look like a villain.

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