She opts into the local esper allocation flex pool when she travels for Tia's cases, to keep her skills up. (Tia isn't necessarily thrilled about this, given Cara's current backlash situation, but she agrees it makes sense. They start getting caught back up on her backlash when Tia finishes her case.) 

The well-oiled logistics gears churn, and spit out a few dungeon assignments for her, one at a time. Tiny things, all of them; it's the calm before the storm, after all.

Flywheel is, by now, a well-trained gear that can slot easily into different parts of the mighty clockwork machine that is humanity's collective dungeon response system. She gets her assignments, shows up promptly, and clears them according to agreed-upon plan, unleashing massive amounts of kinetic energy in just the right place and time to destroy barriers, monsters, cores. As she finishes each one, she returns to Tia's waiting arms.

(She worries a little bit every time, of course, because even a tiny baby dungeon can grow fangs at the wrong moment, and Cara's been using her power a bit irresponsibly, lately. But she's so proud of how far they've come in just a year, how much they've accomplished together. How could she not be?)

Her client gets operated on successfully, kept awake and functional and taking multiple business meetings throughout.

Willowbark, as promised by contract, wears headphones during the operation, one hand applying her power to the man via his exposed shin, the rest of her attention on Flywheel's recent dungeon footage that she's reviewing and taking notes of.

Tia sighs with relief once it's all done and it's time for her to leave.

She reunites with Cara and gets them both to their hotel room, where they can guide each other and recharge Cara's flywheel.

Then the confluence begins, and the notifications start popping up one by one from DRT allocation system.

...Cara looks over at Tia. (She doesn't say anything; she doesn't have to.) 

Tia nods grimly. They've talked about what confluences are like, what Cara should expect, and how she'll help. They've been sure it's coming for a while now, after all, and this isn't her first time playing sideline guide to a combat esper during a confluence. or the second. 

She pulls Cara into a tight hug. "You're ready for this." Tia isn't not nervous, but... Cara's power is incredibly good for keeping her safe, as long as she's getting the support she needs. (And while confluences are dangerous, they can also be big opportunities...)

Her first dungeon has victims being thrown violently up and down into the air by gusts of wind. She waits for them to get close, then extracts them with her power, jumping into the airstream catching them physically while stopping their fall, charging her Flywheel as she does. (She hands them off to the DRT squad right away. She can't really talk to people in dungeons, after all.)

The core is at the center of an angry windmill that moves around slowly on wheels, its blades sharp and spinning fast. It tries to slice her with them.

She stops the entire rotor assembly. As it tries to creek back up to speed, she steps backwards, unclipping one of the heavy metal spheres from her belt, and with all the force she's gathered in the last ten minutes, sends it rocketing so fast the air trembles.

When the core shatters, she feels the fragments of it fly outward, which is all the confirmation she needs. She calls it in and walks out of the dungeon to where Tia is waiting for her.

By the end of the day, it takes Tia over a few hours to clear Cara's newly-acquired backlash, but as always, it feels really really good. 

Yeah. (...she's tired..zzzzz.)

Day two, dungeon one. 

It's early in the morning. Neither of them got quite as much sleep as they would have liked, but she's ready.

The assignment is a weaker dungeon again, mostly empty grass and weird deer. It's the kind that DRT teams usually clear out on their own. But it's a confluence, so of course a giant armored bear is fiercely guarding the core. (One of the gunmen tried to shoot out its eye. The bear responded by eating his gun. And his arm.)

Willowbark makes sure her darling is ready, with her flywheel spinning strapped securely on her back and her gear on her belt and a detailed plan with backups in her mind and some last words of advice and encouragement. (She hates having to be careful not to touch Flywheel, but - it'd be bad to kick up her chronic backlash right before she goes in.) "Remember to be conservative with your power usage. Something bigger could show up today. Be safe and stick to the plan, and you'll be fine. I love you."

"Love you too," she replies, mostly on autopilot.

With her payload in hand, the soft vibration and subtle tug of 5000 RPM on her back, and no outside noise passing through her custom-built helmet, Flywheel enters the portal. 

When she emerges, even her fancy noise-muffling helmet can't fully protect her ears from the screams.

The encampment area is... chaotic, to put it mildly. And Willowbark is nowhere to be seen.

If you can't find me after a dungeon, report in by radio. I should still be nearby.  She touches her helmet. "Finished with the dungeon, only lightly backlashed." 

Willowbark's reply comes in fast, her voice full of stress. "Flywheel, I'm two blocks west and three blocks south. Get here as fast as you can - people are in danger - "

Willowbark is still talking and Flywheel can still hear her, of course, but the backlash tugs her into action. (She lets it guide the way, of course. It's the right thing to do.) 

Her initial jump sends her flying above the roofline of the block; she cuts it short, and heads southwest.

"- I need you to get this kid to a hospital. He needs help quickly and they can't get an ambulance here in time. I'm coordinating with the paramedics, near the center of block -"

- as she approaches the damaged high-rise, a pulsing scan with her power notes a heavy chunk of metal, just beginning to fall off the side of the building. It's almost certainly not going to hit anyone, the main fail zone has been cleared of everything but rubble, but - Willowbark said she needed to hurry to the hospital, and this'll help.

Flywheel, on her way into the debris-strewn plaza, adjusts her trajectory, her power painting arrows in her mind of the two paths. She catches it at point-blank range when it's only two meters above the ground, and tucks the energy into her backpack for later. (Her backlash ticks up, of course, but - this is an emergency, and it's good to have extra juice in the tank.) 

Willowbark and the paramedics help load an unconscious, hastily-bandaged teenage boy into Flywheel's arms. "Eight blocks north. They'll be waiting for you at the ambulance loading bay. Hand him off to the staff there, then come right back and find me, okay?"

(She almost reaches out to check her partner's backlash, but remembers not to at the last second. Ugh.)

Flywheel nods. 

The kid would get the brunt of the air resistance, if she did this the easy way, so she turns to face south and lets her back break the wind as she goes flying through the air. (It's the kind of thing that would be terrifying, if she hadn't practiced it. But she's at the center of the world, when she needs to be, and her power, used appropriately, is very good for making sure she doesn't hit anything or veer off course.) 

She lands with a half-spin right in front of the hospital staff, gently lays her patient on the stretcher, and starts her trip back. No time for pleasantries.

Her aerial viewpoint means she's one of the first people to see a fifth of the high-rise tear itself off the rest of the building and start falling into the plaza below.

Her power and current positioning means she's probably the only person with a chance of doing something about it, if she wanted.

She's at the center of [the world|a hair-thin shaft 1644 meters long with a 1-meter sphere on each end] -