"You could," Bastien says, head turned to try to talk back to her through the throngs of people swarming for subway cars. It isn't a complete thought. He has to leave it there, unfinished, to watch one of the sleek and miraculous trains screech and then roar its way into the dark.

A moment of wonder, then reorientation toward the route they require, before he picks it up again.

"You could make that your thing, if they do. Unstoppable. Untraceable. The Pink Ghost."