Worm: A MHA powerset in Winslow's Court

"So, there I was, on a rooftop in the middle of the night. I hear a bunch of ABB guys down below getting a pep talk by Lung himself about killing a bunch of kids." I pause to give them a moment to digest this, "And all I have is bugs."

"Bugs?"

"Insects, I can control them."

The lead officer frowns, "But that isn't consis…"

"Ah bup, bup. Not finished." I think back to how it looked in the street below me as Lung burned my biggest and best bugs into crispy critters and looked up at me.


Scrambling back from the edge of the rooftop, I heard a whistling in the air and a crunch of gravel on tar as an eight-foot figure landed there, lit up by the fire cupped in either hand.

"You were very foolish to attack me of all people. Brave." He took a step. "Perhaps I will merely scar you for your impertinence."

Cowering back, unable to do much as the aura of flame around him burned away what few other insects I could drag here from the area around, I was able to see the circle in the air open up and a wavy-haired blonde man fall through to land painfully on the roof maybe ten feet away.

He was skinny, almost malnourished looking, but wearing a navy business suit with a white shirt and tie. Odd I know that I saw it so clearly and remembered, but having a flaming finger in your face preparing to burn away your hair has a wonderful effect of focusing memory.

He said … something… in Japanese, pointing at Lung. Anger, some kind of authority. Then he coughed, blood showing on his lips as he wheezed. Lung dismissed him from thought and turned back toward me.

"You are not worth my time, though you speak the tongue of my home. Begone while I scar this poor pathetic attempt at a hero."

"E-English?" The hacking man spoke up, again dragging attention away from me. "Then I am in the United States it seems. Far from home, but nevertheless…"

His form exploded in size, becoming nearly as large as Lung himself, in a red, white and blue suit with an afterthought of yellow on boots, gloves and belt. Damn, he was muscles on top of muscles. He was standing straight now arms spread in a partial flex.

He cleared his throat. "I AM HERE!"

Lung sized him up. "Changer? Brute? Fool!" He was growing again, getting bigger by the moment. "I have fought a kai-shooo, yoooo arrr nuuuth…" His mouth split mid- sentence, silvery scales forming so fast his helmet popped free and rolled to my feet.

It had stopped hurting, the fire. That's a bad sign, I think. But I could barely scootch further away as Lung stepped into reach of the man, seeming to lead with a bite fit to take the hero's head off.

He was crouching down just a bit, arm back. I'd never seen it before, but it came with familiarity as he started low, but with sudden authority called out the move.

"Detoroito Sumasshu!"

It was a classic uppercut to the chest, proving he was large enough to lean into the punch. It wasn't just a point of impact, it was a ripple in the air spreading out in a circle, like the gate thing. The fire around Lung went out as a wind swirled, a sense of power spraying forth like I'd only seen in movies. Parts of Lung started moving before the rest were aware of it, and all of that was in an upward direction.

Off the rooftop.

Into the sky.

Out over the Bay.

There was a flare of light as the Protectorate Headquarters forcefield, a thing of Tinker tech built to challenge S class threats, made the receding form skip like a tennis ball hitting the court.

I was burned badly.

My lips were unable to form the proper shape to whistle. But I tried.

The looming figure of the hero kneeled to reach for me.

"I am sorry miss; there is little I can do for you." He shrank down from the muscled form, one arm holding his stomach as he again was the coughing skinny man. "Years ago I would carry you to the hospital in just a few bounds."

He stumbled to his knees now, reaching out.

"I suppose I have one thing left to give. Know that I am Toshinori Yagi. Take this that you may be the hero you should be."

If he touched me, my burned skin could not feel it.

But suddenly I felt a feeling of being immersed in a massive lake of water, a firehose playing across me, erasing the aches and injuries, awakening the skin to brief pain and then blessed health.

I blacked out.

When I woke up, there was a dead man next to me. He was shriveled like he'd been mummified, but his suit was still creased where it wasn't blackened by Lung's fire. The only odd thing was a sort of belt buckle that didn't match, thick and silver like the costumed one. I touched it and it unlatched from the corpse.

I pulled it toward me, unthinking, and the body crumbled to dust. Not even a filling showed a man had been there. The belt came free, and I noted that my body was healed, pink skin showing.

A lot of pink skin.

I was naked in front from the waist to chin, except for the scraps and ash from my previous clothing, and that was falling off quickly. I heard voices and the sounds of police coming closer. Without thinking it through I took up the coat he'd been wearing and threw it on. It went to my thighs but hardly helped as it had no buttons left to latch. I grabbed up the pants and pulled them on over the scraps of my own costume, more shorts of a dubious nature now, and realized he had been a very tall and thin man indeed.

There were no loops on the pants for the belt to hold, so I slung the belt around me looking for a clasp. I didn't see one but noted the belt holding onto the pants almost gripping like Velcro. The belt buckle clicked onto the overlapping part, showing that he may have been thin but he was still bigger than my waist.

Leaning over to pick up the shirt I noted another point of information.

My hair.

Not burnt off.

It was long again, golden blonde, like he had been, two sections like natural braids in the front.

I glanced down and really looked, seeing I'd also changed in the chest as well. Shit, how was I going to explain this to dad?

But first I needed to figure out coverage.

The arm of the shirt locked onto the other arm for a second until I pulled it off. More Velcro like effect. I can work with that. I folded the shirt torso on itself and held it to my chest as I slipped one arm out of the coat and pulled the sleeve around. It reached all the way to where I could pull the cuff to touch the left side, and it stuck to the torso part just covering my chest. Slipping my right arm back into the coat, I slipped the left out and maneuvered the other shirt sleeve around to latch onto the right side.

I heard a slow golf clap from behind me.

I suppose enhanced hearing was not part of the package. I was really glad I'd been dressing while facing the other way.

Looking over my shoulder I could only see a wall of black smoke blocking the bay and the rig, except for a young woman in purple tights doing the clapping.

"Not many would go for the shirt-on-the-outside look, but you seem to do all right." She was wearing a mask over her eyes, but her snarky smile just kept getting bigger as I looked.

The cloud of blackness parted and a guy in motorcycle leathers and helmet was visible, the skull on the faceplate catching the moonlight. "Don't antagonize the cape that punched Lung into the Atlantic."

There were others. A teen in a ren faire shirt and glittering face mask, a heavyset butch girl in a wool-lined jacket and a halloween dog mash worn up to the side. And then I felt my hackles rise as the things behind them showed up with the smoke clearing. They were somewhere between minivan and horse sized, just fucking huge, bony plates and muscles that should be covered in skin but cracked open.

I must have made fists because the capes flinched, and the things growled.

Growled?

"Down." The butch girl spoke it. The three things immediately crouched down.

The purple girl walked forward looking at the ground. The two piles of white ash, the shoes. "Or did you punch him?", she hummed. "Right-handed. You are tall, but not seven feet plus. What happened to the other?" She paused, looking up at me. "Oh. Really, just the bugs?"

"How would you even know that?" I caught myself asking.

She gestures toward me. "Only thing left of your costume is the mask and the lenses. Good thought about the paint, only thing that kept it from burning, but the bug shells are obvious with the edge burned off."

I turn and look to the again visible rig with the lights playing around like there was an attack in progress.

"Heroes are going to be all over this in a bit. Might be a good plan to be scarce." The ren faire boy said, spinning some kind of scepter thing.

"Heroes?"

Holding out a hand. "Tattletale." Over the shoulder at motorcycle leathers, "Grue, Regent and Bitch.", she waved her hand. "Not calling her a name, that is her chosen cape ID. We are classified villains by the white hats but we are just a bunch of loveable misfits trying to make do." She paused and looked down to my new belt and winced. "Lots going on here. Definitely got an out-of-town backer, yeah?"

The black cloud returned, obscuring things around …Grue, was it?

"Armsmaster coming down the road. Time to go." He mounted one of the panting things. "Thanks for distracting Lung by the way. If you don't go for the hero pitch, look us up." The last bit was lost in darkness.

Tattletale jumped on one of the dog things. Behind the one called Bitch. Weird but I could almost see the build of the dog in the monster now.

"What he said. Post on PHO, we sure will!" They rode off.

The last one sat there a second. He had his phone out like a camera. "Smile and wave."

He gestured and for just a second, I felt my hand twitch. He frowned a bit. I then lifted it and did a queenly half turn of the hand. The flash blinded me for a moment.

As his mount jumped away –and dang those things could jump– a grappling hook caught the edge of the building. An armored form landed on the edge, stepping onto the roof daintily. Blued metal faceplate and just a bit of red beard showing, he held his signature halberd at the ready.

"Are we going to fight?"

I look around. "Who, me?"

"Were you the one who attacked the rig?"

"Nope." Popping P's are a thing.

Truth. "Do you know who did the deed?"

"That was Lung who bounced off the forcefield. I was about to be crisped by him when a rather big guy showed up, saved me from burning. He punched Lung into next week by way of the Bay, then collapsed on the ground there and broke down to ashes."

Armsmaster scanned the area. "I had assumed this was the remains of an Oni Lee clone." He was recording video of the area. "Shoes."

"Are you wearing the clothes he had? That is tampering with evidence."

I cross my arms. "Lung burned my top off. Unless you want to be known as pedo-master you might want to refrain from asking for them."

"Ah. Noted." He turned away for a second, speaking on comms I couldn't hear.

I looked down to the grappling hook and the line leading down to his cycle parked below.

"If you could fly up here, why the line?"

He faltered a moment. "It is not exactly flight, rather an anti gravity effect requiring a power source external to the armor to be useful."

"It's a big extension cord?"

He huffed. "There are sensors and communication aspects as well."

I noted a camera thing on it, turning to pan around the area.

"Fine. I have to go." I turned away to the fire escape I'd climbed up in the first place.

He called out to me. "Ah. Miss? You seem to have a large spider on your shoulder."

Yeah, one of very few of my bugs that survived –mostly by being near the center of my back under my hair at the time. I glanced to my right and realized the little jumper was as big as my hand. "One of mine. Just a little jumper."

"Little?!" He seemed nonplussed. "That specimen is gargantuan for the species!"

I was all about getting scarce now, pounding down the stairwell as quietly as I could. But of course, he beat me down using his anti-grab thingy.

"Would you consider coming in for power testing? You appear to be a Brute, but the spider would suggest more to it than that."

"Maybe-e later." I find myself saying. "I had plans to come in after I'd gotten a name with a bit of reputation." I find myself muttering more, "Or at least a name."

"From the looks of things, you have had a lucky encounter. A big threat to your continued life with an intervention. Please stay safe." With that he clomped over to his ride. Huh, it looks like a Harley build but the front part moves forward as he gets on making it like a scooter until he is seated. It also starts moving before there is the sound of an engine –must be sound effects.

I am left alone. The few gang members that had been down here had scattered. Quite a few of them had bug bites, though I'd kept the wasps from injecting loads of toxin into their stings. Dry bites.

My awareness of the bugs felt reduced, like there weren't any spiders around at all. I started walking home, or at least a general path that would meander that way, and called another mild swarm to me. There weren't so many wasps now, but there were a few of the big red fellows around. I directed one to land on a finger. There was a spark of energy, and I had a hole in my insect awareness that had been wasps. On my finger, or rather on my hand, was a beautiful specimen that looked like something out of the age of dinosaurs, at least nine inches long. His stinger looked like it fit on an old-style syringe.

Shit. If this gets out of my range, will it attack anyone?

Oh god, how do I reverse this?

Another flash, and he is back to normal size. I can also feel the other wasps in my range again. They all seem a little agitated as well, though they slip back into normal control easily. Enhancing one of them pulls in mass from the others in the area?

I am passing a few stores now, closed for the night. A window shows the extent of my change. Taller, long blonde hair spilling out around the edges of my chitin mask. Chest size, thighs, no wonder Armsmaster treated me like an adult –I look like one.

How will I explain this to dad? Just a little freakout now.

Breathe.

I'd only had a few sessions with a therapist in the hospital before they twigged that dad's pockets were ah limited. That was when I got moved out of the upper class white private room to a shared room with three immigrants injured by the Empire. Anyway, the therapists had all pushed breathing exercises on me, and one had suggested meditation as a way to deal with intrusive thoughts. Yeah, my bugs were intrusive.

But the breathing thing worked somewhat.

Calm. Zen. Eyes closed for a second.

A flash I could see through closed lids made me look around in panic. Nothing. But I looked back at the window and saw I was back to dark hair, shorter and –oh well– good old A cup. There was a little glow showing from the belt buckle…

"Ifuku o minkan-fuku ni saizu henkō"

Automatically I answered the voice. "I don't speak… Japanese?"

"New operator noted, English setting option engaged. Please state hero name for registration."

Now I have inanimate objects trolling me for lack of name. "I don't have a hero name yet."

"Previous owner registered All Might. Consulting 'Hero Network' for instruction…"

I heard the name; the guy had called himself … "All Might–eh?"

"Hero Network not found. Connection limited to cellular internet." Wow, the sass is strong in the voice. Sounds like a middle-aged salaryman from one of Greg's anime. "All Mighty added to the registration site, P H O." It paused. "Site is requesting a costumed form picture for validation. Please transform."

"What? You think it is like a switch in my head?!" I feel frustrated dealing with this PIA.

And a flash. Tall, blonde, boobs check.

"Arigato.", it noted, "Costume engaged by pressing the lit button."

My glance down and there is a blinking light, red. I touch it and feel a moment of vertigo as the white of the shirt and blue fibers of the jacket and pants shred into a cloud around me, reforming into a tight suit in the same red, white, blue and gold that All Might had worn. Okay it was sized down a bit, felt like the extra material was double layered in place.

"Mask detected. Upgrading costume. Prescription glass lenses replaced."

"I look like an American flag. This is too much, and far too revealing. It needs to be darker and less form fitting. And I need pockets to hold my bugs."

"Color muted 70%. Additional pockets."

Okay, this I could deal with. It still had red and blue, just darker shades. The white was just a few lines or small stars. Pockets that would make Kim Possible jealous. Oh it did incorporate the mask shape into something that works like a cowl but still lets my –well– gorgeous hair come through, my lenses were replaced with a true visor.

My reverie was broken as something on my chest lit up the area. A nodule of metal, part of the costume I suppose.

"All Mighty photo proof registered. Query, is Spider a sidekick?"

I turn my head and see the hand sized jumper still there, It had two legs raised, examining them. On each leg there is a band of cloth material showing the same coloring as my costume.

"Yes. Definitely. I dub thee Sir Jumps. Jumps for short."

The little spider seems to wave its legs in triumph, bouncing up and down with huge eyes reflecting.

"Sidekick registered."

I pulled out my phone, a burner I'd bought for emergency use with the last of my Christmas money. Okay so I dipped into the college fund, but I had plans dammit. I could get PHO on this, barely, and looked for the thread leaderboard. "Almighty?"

"Two words. Also, not religious." I was almost ready to post when I realized this was my civilian phone and my personal PHO account.

"I can't correct this as my civilian id."

"Noted. Establishing a link. Added icon connects to this unit, posting as All Mighty. Please retain the belt in civilian mode for easy connection."

I thought about civilian id. Blonde and boobs gone. But the blue suit wasn't back. I was wearing a hoodie over a shirt and jeans. Scuffed jeans with a hole patched in the knee. And the belt was not gold, the buckle looking like pewter rather than silver.

"Civilian mode based on pictures found on the phone." Ah, the DWU luncheon. After my time in the hospital, less said about that the better, before going back to school, there'd been a meeting at the DWU. A lot of families had kids from Winslow there. Many of them were disgusted with how the administration had handled my attack.

Yes, attack.

Despite how it was framed as a prank gone wrong, they as a group applied pressure to the school board. It was glorious how quickly the board backed down with the threat of union driven reprisals. The janitors, medical practitioners, and police unions all made it clear that screwing the working class was not on the table. The teachers union did not have a say as Winslow had not one paying union member… And that had changed now that Gladys Knott had joined and been made shop steward for the district.

Huh. The spider was still on me, much smaller now. I could feel spiders again, but less than normal range. So maybe it is a sliding scale of how much power is added to an insect and how much less of a range I have for that phenotype.

My musings while walking were interrupted by a girl's voice.

"Hey! Did you see a girl hero this way?" I looked around and up and saw a white skort dress combination with gold trim, blonde with a tiara. She had on a short poncho thing, also white with gold trim, in deference to the cold weather, but even so I recognized Glory Girl.

I mimed taking earbuds out and asked, "What? Ah no, sorry. I didn't see anybody else."

She pouted, flouncing her hair a bit. "Aww. I recognized the bakery window she took a picture in front of and thought I could go and welcome her to Brockton."

I shrugged. "I did see Armsmaster drive by but unless he is crossdressing in his spare time."

That got a giggle. "Oh that image just won't go away now. Too funny. You better get on home, this area is known for muggings and such."

Shaking my head a little. "This is a regular patrol route for the docks Irregulars. Look, there is one of their cars coming."

The beat up GMC Jimmy slowed instead of passing and pulled over. "Taylor? What are you doing out here honey?"

Lacey, it figures. "I was out for a run and Glory Girl swung down to exchange notes on sightings."

"Sightings. Too funny." Glory Girl shook her head and waved goodbye, lifting into the sky.

"So you want a ride or do we call your dad?" Lacey offered.

"Fine." I got in the passenger seat, moving aside a narrow bag that I knew held a sawed off shotgun of dubious legality. "Why are you out alone?"

"Just dropped off George and was going to pick up Kurt to do the last rounds for the night." She pulled away and started heading for their place. "You can hop out there as it's only a block or so further on to your house. And I do mean 'go home', I don't get why you kids seem so fascinated by the cape scene –walking around at 1 AM just to see dude ride by on a two wheeled tank."

"You have to admit, I did see two heroes out there up close tonight. Three if you count seeing someone punch Lung out to sea."

"You saw that?!" She grinned, losing years off her weathered look. "Wish I could have filmed that myself. I'm no Empire simp but if there was anyone that needed taking down a peg or three it is Lung."

"Don't say that around the ABB folks." I kid.

"Oh, nevah." She leered at me. "And this is as far as you go. If Kurt sees you, he will blab to Danny. And that would mean I get the third degree myself. No way, missy."

Brakes squealing slightly, the Jimmy slowed to a stop.

I was only around a block out. From here I took the alleyway behind the rows of houses, a walk path between backyards for delivery and garbage pickup. At our house I opened the slat fence gate quietly and headed to the back porch.

I stopped to wipe my shoes off. I had planned to slip into the old shed and swap from costume mode there. This was much more convenient I suppose.

Slipping down into the basement, I opened the old coal chute.

The spiders I had making costume pieces were there in various jars, the top covered by a thin plastic sheet I could have the ants pull aside. But spiders alone could not shift it so they were trapped. The sheets of material, undyed mostly and in one case badly sewn together were the trial runs.

I just wondered what my Jumper here could do. The switch flipped and he was handsized. Not really a fair test since jumpers aren't known for large web production. They mostly do lines.

The little guy almost looked offended at me, moving to the top beam and coming down leaving a veritable string of thread. He jumped back up and repeated the effort. Dang, little guy, that is almost kite string thick. He was going at it like there was no tomorrow. Ah it wasn't obvious but he is making a continuous line. Good going. I've already seen the value of Armsmaster's grappling hook. I just need a way to get it there and anchor it. Of course this assumes I can climb that.

Hearing shuffling upstairs in the kitchen, I closed the coal chute pen door, leaving Jumper to his work, and went up the stairs to the kitchen.

"Taylor, why are you up? Dressed? Were you going out?" Dad went from fuzzy to focused in a sentence, his eyes piercing. "You aren't ah, hearing things again?"

The doctors had told dad about the voices of course. Assholes.

"No dad, I had a nightmare and got up to take a walk. Was trying not to wake you up and ruin your morning."

He relaxed. "Well at least you got home okay. Not the best wear for late night jogs, you need some reflective tape or something."

Rolling my eyes. "The things I have to duck while running have legs and want to mug me, not run me over. High vis is a work thing not a jogger thing."

"Ah right. OSHA training." He went to the fridge and pulled sandwich makings. "Want one?"

"I will make a wrap to take for lunch. Not feeling sleepy anyway."

"Ah, teenage metabolism. Youth is wasted on the young."

My audience is eating this up. Young faces looking up to their –well– hero.

By morning I was finding the night was not the end of things changing. I was achy in a lot of places, even before meeting All Might so briefly I had been walking for two hours, climbing up rooftops to look for 'crimes'. Heh.

But this morning I found that my bras were a smidge tight. Shirts that worked in the past were uncomfortable. I had to opt for a sweatshirt over one I used to sleep in, with the extra tucked into my pants. Even those fit oddly. Oh boy, what a time for puberty to push for ah improvements.

As I came down, dad was cooking breakfast.

He put the French toast slices on the plate. Then he gave me a look and added another couple slices of bacon. "It looks like those runs are starting to kick in. I won't have the time today, but I will see if Lacey can take you out shopping later."

I shrug. "Too bad Aunt Zoe is no longer in the picture. Not after Emma cut ties."

"Zoe?" He looked lost for a second, memory playing. "She was always there with Annette. Even if you and Emma aren't close –and I still don't understand that– she should have time for you. You are her god daughter, that doesn't end with something as transient as friendship."

Huh, lit a fire there I suppose. He then moved to the hall and picked up the phone. He wouldn't!

Oh shit, I could hear him greeting Aunt Zoe. The talk was shifting from catching up to a request.

"Yeah, I know this is short notice, but it would be really helpful to have a woman's touch in this. No, ah, Lacey has a style all her own. If she wasn't fifteen years married, she would be called butch in any circumstance." He paused. "Look, I know Taylor and Emma aren't besties anymore, but this is more about you and Annette. You are her godmother still you know."

The pause was telling.

Dad saw me leaning back on my chair to look. He gestured in the 'four on the floor' mode. Then he picked up the conversation. "Anne is in town. So, you and she will do it. Nice."

He turned back after hanging up. "Zoe and Anne will pick you up from school. I will have to dip into the college fund a bit for this. No, not the one you know about, just a second."

Dad went upstairs and dug around under his bed. It wasn't like I was snooping, but house spiders and a few flies made it second nature. The can had several envelopes, of which he took out two.

"Both of these have two hundred. I want you to do two things. Get a … a cellphone. I know I haven't exactly supported them after Annette passed. It is stupid of me to blame the phone when I should just as well blame the truck that crossed the lane and clipped her car. I haven't given up trucks after all. Then use the rest on clothes."

I felt guilty there and fished into my pants pocket for the burner. "Ah, sorry but I already got one."

"With your Christmas money?" He looked sad.

I held it up. "And a pinch of college funds I did know about. When my birthday comes, I will be old enough to work part time legally. Then I promise to put that back and add to it."

He nodded. "Not the best model but better looking than the one Lacey recommended. Just use both for clothes then." he paused. "Is that a new belt?"

"Relatively."

"Good that you've already started on clearing your wardrobe."

Checking the time. "I have to go, or I will miss the bus."

***********************

Winslow was just as crappy as ever, but there were a few odd looks as I walked in. Head high. They can't push me down anymore. I remembered what All Might said again. It fit.

"I am here."

Okay so it wasn't perfect conviction, it was a start.

*****************
Sophia perspective.

"I don't like it." Emma was saying. "Her whole demeanor has shifted. Instead of knowing her place she is walking like she owns it all. She should be bent under the weight of being such a loser."

Sophia grimaced. This again. "Then maybe you are wrong about her place. High school isn't forever. Are you still mad that she almost got into Arcadia and you couldn't qualify? Seriously, it's a bad look for you, keep that face on and you will get wrinkles." Hah. Right on the money as Emma dove for a compact to check her makeup. Who said she couldn't enjoy riling up friends as well as coworkers? But Hebert did look a bit uppity today. Maybe a little hip check around lunch. Yeah, that sounds good. Mentally penciled in on her calendar for mild beating because 'reasons', Sophia ignored the crowd to go into class.

The opportunity didn't come like she expected.

At lunch time, they'd moved out to look for Taylor in her usual haunts. No dice. They could not find her anywhere.

In defeat, they came back to the lunchroom to find Taylor sitting at their own empty table, her lunch finished.

Sophia, Emma, Madison, Julia and two others Sophia could not work up the effort to remember, closed in. "What the hell, Hebert?"

"The table was empty when I got here. Is your name written on it somewhere?" She stood up, chair squeaking as it moved back. "As I am finished eating, feel free to take it."

"Not so fast. You owe us a toll for using our stuff." Emma tried to take advantage.

Taylor looked down her nose at Emma. Barely taller than Madison who was no giant. Over to Sophia, who still looked up to Taylor despite being a fit athlete. "You are just so adorable when you pout like a child. I wouldn't know what to do if you didn't follow me around to make my days brighter with your presence."

And to Emma's consternation Taylor went in for the kill shot.

"It's almost like you are still the princess of the castle. Did you lose the tiara to Victoria Dallon?"

Damn, kitty got claws all of a sudden.

Sophia's desire to thump Hebert dropped two notches. It was like thinking she had been hanging with the pride of lions and suddenly all the girls, Emma included, were just hyenas and the real lioness had roared them into submission.

Emma turned to Sophia, "Well?! Aren't you going to do something? Get her!"

Sophia drew herself up, hand to her chest. "Moi?" She looked around. "This looks like a FAFO moment to me, girls. You can cluster and bluster but when you fuck around you find out."

She nodded to Hebert, who was taking a beginner level stance in case one of them rushed her.

The lunch bell rang. Not to back off, Hess put two fingers to her eyes and then pointed to Hebert. 'I am watching you.'

The hyenas scattered, but the other predators were circling already.

****************

Greg followed me into Gladly's class, taking his usual seat but not immediately launching into a recap of whatever show he'd been watching, game he'd played until wee hours or other pursuit. He didn't even try to ask me out, yet again.

When his lackadaisical buddy Sparky showed up late, he too stared for a moment then looked at Greg. His next words were clear and without pause.

"Missed your chance, buddy. She is way out of your league now." He put his head down and pretended to sleep.

"What is he talking about?" I asked Greg.

He looked like I had kicked his puppy. Hard.

"That's why I'm not talking out of turn. As it has been explained to me there are three areas you can be in relation to a girl. The end zone means you have a chance. The friend zone means she will never see you as more than an acquaintance, never as an interest. And then there is the last one, the end-you zone, which is the girl that will kill you or be the cause of your doom. You are giving off solid end-you vibes right now." That was the longest statement he'd ever given that did not involve stat blocks or marketing rights.

"That was well thought out. I cannot disagree with you not being in the end zone. I have stated that clearly a number of times." I started.

It was at that point that one of the jocks wandered over. "Taylor, right? Is this guy harassing you?"

Dear god, Greg was right. This is how the 'high end' girls are treated by the jocks. Protective like an elephant seal protecting his harem. I blinked slowly.

"No. He was not being a bother. He does not need your attention for any reason, nor will I consider it favorable if anything 'happens' to him –or Sparky. They are simply classmates." I kept my voice firm but not offensive. Then I smiled a little at –John, I think? "Thank you."

He sketched a bow and walked back to his table.

Sparky whispered, "I hear BOSS MUSIC." That put the pin in it.

********************

By the end of the day the rumor mill was grinding in a completely different direction than I was used to. Seniors held the door for me. Juniors were steering clear of the impending backlash, and the freshmen who only had the upper-class actions as a guide to how to behave were left without a definite suitable target.

And the rumor mill had spread that Greg was no longer an approved target either. Which is weird to me. But I was not versed in the dynamics of the machine, usually being at the bottom of the grinding gears.

I saw Emma's group heading for the bus. I stayed toward the back, wondering if Aunt Zoe and Anne were going to come. Then a honk sounded, Anne's little car.

I started walking over as she pulled up close enough to be seen.

"Anne!" Emma's voice called, and she jogged over ignoring me as she did so. "What are you doing here? Mom?" She'd noticed Aunt Zoe in the cramped back seat. "Why are you in the back like that?"

As I came up. "We are taking Taylor shopping for some new clothes. Danny says she has hit a growth spurt."

Anne nodded looking at me side by side with Emma. "She sure did. With the right togs she could pass for a college girl as is. How do you still manage to dress like a tomboy?"

Though she said it in jest, she saw how I clouded up. And then her focus went to Emma who was gloating. "Well, I guess Danny was right about there being bad blood between them. Too bad, I always hoped Taylor would rub off on Emma."

"Anne! That isn't right." Zoe stated. But she was eyeing Emma as well. "But you go with your friends. Your father has been told to pick you up for your shoot tonight. Don't be late.", she turned to me. "Go ahead and get in Taylor."

I opened the door carefully and adjusted the seatbelt. Aunt Zoe only sat in the back to let the tall people have leg room. Me.

As we pulled away, she leaned forward. "I spoke with Danny again around lunchtime. He said he found things in your closet. Notebooks. Documentation of what has been going on. It is hard for me to believe but I can see a pattern of statements Emma has made that are blatant falsehoods." She reached for my hand.

I gave it without thinking. "Among other things she said you tried to cut your wrists, that was why you were hospitalized in January. I don't see any scars. And you aren't exactly hiding your arms now with your hoodie tied like that.

I hadn't thought about it before now, but instead of walking around hood up and hiding my features, I had tied it over my shoulders for most of the day. It had been warm inside and I couldn't trust things in my locker anymore.

"You must be really hurting for clothes to be wearing your old sleepwear like that."

Anne piped in, "Not that you aren't rocking the 'Hello Kitty' thing." She raised an eyebrow. "How much did Danny give you to spend?"

"Well, he gave me four hundred in total. He had to dip into the college savings to do so, but I also have around fifty of my own to add. It is overdue on a couple fronts, nothing new since mom passed, mostly just thrift store pickings."

"Well shit." Both of them said at once.

"I don't need new stuff, but I do need bras and tops. Growth spurt. Things aren't fitting."

And now they were sniggering. One started but the other joined in after a moment. "She got a visit from the fairy, the happy dappy boob fairy!"

Oh god. I had a vague recollection of mom and Aunt Zoe singing the same thing to Anne, years ago.

They laughed it up a bit then. "Okay, so I say we go to Harfer's for the bra stuff. They make good ones that can adjust up to two sizes. Sports bras too."

Anne looked at Aunt Zoe. "There are two boxes of my old clothes in my room. Good stuff, but Emma won't accept hand me downs of any sort. She outgrew any tops I had before it was even a thought. Some of them may be more 'exposed midriff' on you, but that will hardly be a problem."

"Show my flab?" I didn't like that thought.

"Flab? Seriously Taylor, if anything we need to make sure you aren't edging on anorexic. You have no fat to spare." Aunt Zoe shook her head. "Trust me, lift your blouse and look at your waistline. If you had flab, you could pinch an inch."

I do so.

"That is skin Taylor." She grimaces. "And now I see how the bullies have been working on your self image." She sighed. "And Emma is one of them."

As it turned out, Aunt Zoe decided to pay into the clothing fund herself. There were bras for normal wear and runner stuff after I explained I'd been running. And then she asked what shoes I was wearing to run in.

"I don't have other shoes."

Anne pulled me into a shoe store after that, finding me two new pairs –one for running and another set for regular wear. She wanted me to toss the work boots I'd been wearing to school but then made a comment about Winslow being near the seventh circle of hell and having shitkicker boots made odd sense.

"Okay, I think I may need to borrow your shitkicker boots to have a further talk with your father.", she grimaced. "And afterwards for a chat with Alan about what constitutes his duties as a godfather as compared to his own daughter's behavior."

****************

Danny. A personal call from his office at the DWU.

"That's right. I know you've all but closed the investigation. But I found a cache of journals and printouts of emails sent to my daughter. I'm no tech guru but it seems to me that there might be records of these emails and timings to them that would be recoverable even if the original was deleted."

"No, I am not seeking penalties. There is a pattern here of willful misconduct that goes beyond the students acting out. This is clearly not gang related. But the gang presence in the school is keeping this misconduct hidden."

"Right. Thank you for your time."

Danny was hanging up the phone when his line rang again. He recognized the number.

"Daniel Hebert, speaking."

Alan's voice came across. "You didn't used to greet me so formally, Danny."

"That was before I understood that your daughter was responsible for putting mine in the hospital and then spread the rumor that she attempted suicide. And then you buried it."

Stunned pause, then damage control.

"You had better not be making accusations without evidence…" Alan started.

Cutting in. "I know better than to give you grounds to sue me into the dirt. The suicide rumor is substantiated –I think that is the word you like to wave around– by emails from Emma's school account to Taylor's school account. And others. With that smoking gun there is sufficient reason for the school board to reopen the investigation."

"You didn't!" Alan groaned.

Deciding to twist the knife a bit. "Also, you may want to get your blanket and pillow ready for sleeping on the couch. Zoe has the facts now about the railroading you performed at the school board hearing, and how you backed Emma's story about a suicide attempt while keeping her and Anne out of it."

"You are a real piece of work Alan, goodbye." Danny let the line click to dial tone with his finger then hung up the receiver. The number rang again. He let it ring for a while, sipping his coffee. After five rings, Alan got the clue.

*****************

PRT HQ downtown, John Renick's office.

"Sir, I have a flagged item from the school board. Winslow. The investigation that borders on Shadow Stalker's identity. It has been reopened."

Sighing. Scanning the page the aide handed him. "And this is after the DWU got involved, putting pressure on. Okay then. The handler stonewalled the last investigation and talked them down from pulling records over a prank. This doesn't read like school shenanigans, this comes over like assault pure and simple. And that doesn't even address the character assassination. Thankfully, none of that is our purview. Order the handler to cooperate. Remind her that she is under military rule. Fudging reports may fly in civilian life but that is not the case here."

Renick had been in the pseudo civilian realm for many years. Situations like this broke through that crust to the heart of military laws. This would involve a court martial.

***************************************

I went out on Tuesday for the first time in costume. Other times I'd only jog around at dusk to look for where the criminals were laid up for the day. Those were hotspots of people active in closed buildings. Running into Lung was well outside my expectations. I thought it was an Empire dog ring, not one of the ABB casinos. I had been heading that way when I ran into the crowd talking about killing kids.

That those kids were –now that I've looked up Tattletale, Grue. Bitch and Regent– the Undersiders was a surprise. Not unpleasant because saving anyone was good. But that it helped a group of lower importance villains was less than perfect.

This extra power boost, I needed to find out what it meant. I was hoping it was Alexandria, but there hadn't been any 'liftoff' when I tried to do so. No flight. Wishful thinking really. There were things I needed to check out, to see what my cards held before I talked to the Protectorate again.

Then there was a new issue. I had opted not to consider the Wards at first because my powers were not 'friendly'. They still weren't, and even more so with my ability to enlarge any bug to the size of a cat. Unless the size of the insect scaled since the jumper spider had been tiny. The wasp was bigger, but it hadn't been the largest variety around or fully grown. Nor had I pushed more into them than just the tiniest fraction.

Not that I was against punching, mind, I just have to admit I am not very good at it. While that may change there is always boosting an insect into human proportions or bigger.

***************

Barnes home.

Alan is in his chair, but he is not reclining now. He sits at attention, hands clasped. Emme is on the couch, alone, also awaiting judgement. Anne is putting together a basic dinner, toasted cheese sandwiches and soup. Zoe is pacing back and forth.

Emma's not in tears. She is trembling, livid with anger. Taylor had betrayed her over that summer. She had gone away –safe– while Emma herself had to stay in town. Just because her mom died, they bent over backwards for her. Needy, pampered, pathetic Taylor.

And when they followed Emma's suggestion of summer camp for a change of scenery, when she was finally out of town, out of the spotlight, Alan had taken her for ice cream and gotten turned around. They'd been carjacked, mugged and threatened. He'd been beaten down. She was given the choice of hair, ears or face, Emma had told them to just cut her hair off if it made them feel strong about themselves.

The girl gang member hadn't liked that. That put Emma in control. So, she declared she would slit Emma's ears into three strips. Somehow, Emma shook so wildly after the first cut she dislodged the punk, throwing her leg up in a parody of the high kick they'd taught her in dance class.

Then the hero Shadow Stalker had saved her.

Or finished it.

She'd told the police they had a gun to her head. She'd lied and her dad had not been able to say anything against her as they'd broken his glasses first thing. Two dead. One injured and claimed that Shadow Stalker had killed them from cover.

Shadow Stalker had calmly landed, pulled the guns from their waist bands and put them in hand long enough to shoot a round or two off. She'd slapped a maxi pad on each of Emma's ears and roused Alan with smelling salts.

No one coddled her. They didn't really care. It was three weeks of repeated plastic surgery trips to correct the damage to her ears, to make her pretty again. All summer lost to the painful treatments, no fun, no enjoyment. And Taylor had showed up all chipper and happy and expecting to be the center of her world again.

"EMMA!" Zoe's voice pulled her out of the reverie.

"Have you heard a word of what I am saying?"

Emma tried to rewind the words that had been spilling out over her. "No."

"Then let me recap for you. Grounded. No modeling. No dates. No Sophia. You will be allowed one hour of phone time each night after I've seen your homework completed."

"You can't..!"

Dark chuckle. "Oh yes, I can." She leaned in and then looked at Alan. "Winslow is a shithole and at least half of this is because they wouldn't see it happening in front of them. The way I hear it, things are about to change on that front soon. You can homeschool for a month while we see how that plays out."

"But my friends?!"

Sadly. "You had a friend. Someone who you were there for when she needed it, and someone you blamed for not being there because you needed a break from the neediness. No, you didn't sneak that past your mother. Once again, she wasn't there because you pushed her away." Zoe snorted. "She never even knew you were attacked because you didn't want her to come running back here. You took the opportunity to wrap your father around your pinkie with guilt."

Facing Alan. "Well, that ends too."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Alan tried.

"Hah. Are you going to slap me with an injunction against talking like you did your only friend? Are you going to threaten me with child protective services? You are lucky I let you stay on the couch." She waved around. "You married into money, Alan Barnes, that does not make it yours. You look down on someone who lost their wife. You are this close to joining him in being single."

Anne wisely stayed out of this part of the drama as much as she could. She'd basically cleared out her high school clothes down to bare closet space and taken it over to Taylor. They'd pared down what she could use and took the rest to a local thrift store. Trading in kind for things in Taylor's size where possible.

And she'd helped dig out Annette's serger sewing machine for Taylor. Anne had taken a class in fashion, and knew a few people in town.

****************
Taylor, Saturday morning.

With mom's old clothes, some of Anne's hand-me-downs. I had found a stash of blue jeans material and even a little bit of leather.

It was a walk down memory lane, me helping mom with her sewing projects. She'd made just about every Halloween costume I'd worn, every school pageant and at least one play as well. There was a big file of patterns, bins full of buttons and zippers and whatnot. From the look of it, she'd made or remade several of dad's jackets.

I was digging around underneath things and found a section of wall that sounded different. I'd had to shove some old army chest out of the way to get it clear.

Feeling out with my insect control I could tell there was a void beyond the door. No bugs, not even the worms I only had the vaguest sense of, but there were a few dozen roaches and silverfish that began mapping out walls for me.

Huh, there is a gap in the wall structure on this side to a set of four metal hooks on a plate to hang tools on. Feeling around I noted the whole thing could shift to the right even though there were screws through it into the 'wall'. When I moved it about five inches, a section of the wall clicked open.

It was closet sized. And there was a dressmaker's figure in there. The astonishing thing to me though was that it was wearing a costume with armor pieces. There was shoulder armor that looked like bronze there. There was a chainmail bikini –hah!-- but at least there was padded cloth armor underneath it. Over that on the torso was a harness that has tactical points on it for sheaths or maybe a holster.

This gave me food for thought, but there was a catch. I am pretty sure dad knows this was down here and the backstory that went with it. And if he saw a new cape wearing any of this stuff, he was going to put two and two together pretty darn fast.

I closed the door and slid the hooks back over to latch it.

There was much to do with the remade clothing for school. That occupied me until around noon when Dad came home for lunch and a change of clothes. He was planning to go right back for a couple hours to meet the shift change. A salvage company was coming in to look over the scuttled ship in the harbor to see if it was feasible to move it. Some cape with a plan was pitching the idea.

As he finished the sandwich I had made and was preparing to head upstairs to change I dropped the bombshell on him.

"I found a closet in the basement with a costume in it."

He stopped dead. Stillness. "Better show me."

I led the way down, pushed the hooks to the side and opened the door. He leaned forward and flipped a hidden switch on the side to light a bulb above it.

"Yeah. Not one costume but most of two on the same dummy. The padded cloth was your mom's. That and the pauldrons. The chainmail thing was Lustrums, although she wore a bit more underneath than it suggests."

He touched the pauldron, brushing away some dust to reveal a rose insignia carved into the metal. "Your mom broke from Lustrum when she started going too far. Their group was supposed to be about justice for women, but it transformed into something darker."

"Mom had powers?"

He winced, shaking his head. "In the early days there were people who went out in costumes that didn't have powers. Lustrum could pass out a brute effect on anyone that had an emotional bond with her. After the break, Annie never did a thing that couldn't be explained away by skill and planning so I was never sure."

He shifted his eyes to me. "I've seen that look before. I can't stay and talk about this now, but we can talk about this more later, okay? I will be home by ten tonight."

With dad out of the house, I redoubled my efforts at poking through mom's things that I had mostly avoided after her death. Okay, I didn't know she wasn't a US citizen. Canada? She wasn't an exchange student, but she'd moved down from Quebec.

There were albums put away showing her in college days. And then there were some that were sealed with packing tape. I cut one open and found it to contain pics of capes at rallies, Lustrum's people. There were fliers and a folded yellow poster for an event. I recognized the padded armor in the pictures, the person wearing it wielding a bullhorn as often as holding a sign. Hair in buns like Princess Leia. Wow. Well, better than dreadlocks or an afro. Rose colored glasses that would fit on Lennon.

Huh, it looks like she used a truncheon in some of these, a Trucker's friend. I checked back in the closet and noted it was there on the dummy underneath the cloth hauberk, hanging down between the legs. Eww, mom.. Fourteen inches of wood with leather wrapped handle and bronze rivets hammered in to form knobs. Not lethal per se, but not exactly safe either. But not a bad idea in case of a fight where touching the enemy was contraindicated.

The circle of young faces looking up, the stern-faced teachers positioned around. And the Officers visiting, judging. But the kids, they were eating this up.

Dad came home early, rolling in at nine instead of ten. I was wondering if he was expecting me to be absent.

He came in and put his things by the door, a battered lunchbox and his coat. Getting out a soda, he gestured to the kitchen table clearly wanting to talk.

"How long?"

I blinked. That escalated quickly. "How long … what?"

"Since you got powers."

Deny, divert, deny. "I'm not sure what you mea…" I got that far before he cut me off.

"Taylor, I've been thinking about this all day. Looking back, there have been signs. The hospital was one, and the fat fuck from the PRT wanting to give you an MRI when you were sick from infections and unclean abrasions was telling. As well as your breakdown and stay with the psyche ward." He was counting off fingers.

"When you got home you bounced back too fast for someone who had a breakdown. And that doesn't begin to count the oddities with the bugs around the house."

"Oddities?" I squeak. I thought I'd been subtle.

"Haven't been bitten by a mosquito in months. We couldn't afford to get sprayed for roaches for two months and yet the German cockroaches are absent. I can hear flies in the backyard that you would only see in a garbage dump or behind a fast-food joint but I count three flies in the kitchen, and they all are motionless on the window."

He smiled sadly. "And that was up until what day before yesterday? Then you get to cleaning out the basement and move a chest full of old weights to the side I could barely shift."

"So, lay it on me."

Huh. He had me dead to rights. Mostly. "Okay, so I do have powers." I turned away to consider it and heard the fridge open and a bottle top pop.

He took a long drink on one of his few emergency longnecks. "Pray continue as I water my field of woes."

I can't help but smile as he quotes something mom used to use.

"The voices that put me in the psych ward. The disorientation and sensitivity to lights. It was too much at first, but I got a better handle on it the last month or so. Two really."

His hand gesture suggested he wanted details.

"Bugs. I can control any bugs around me within a half block or so."

"Bugs?" He repeated. "Master power but limited to bugs."

"Yep. And Crustaceans too."

He seemed to relax a bit. "Okay, so that isn't frontline stuff. Maybe you can work out a niche to run aviaries to pollinate farms with controlled bees…" He looked thoughtful. "That isn't something the gangs will bother you for…"

I firmed up. "I AM going to be a hero."

"But if you go out with just that you will be dead the first time you face a real fight!"

I tilt my head a little. "Dad, I've already been out. And I took down a whole pack of ABB. I even made Lung work for it."

"LUNG!" He half stood but stopped. "But you are here. How-how did you manage that?" He added softly, sounding both proud and scared for me.

"I had help." I left that there.

He glanced toward the basement door. "Wait, 'bugs' doesn't explain the growth, the energy or moving the weights."

"There is more. Okay I admit I got in over my head with Lung and I got bailed out by an out-of-towner." I rolled my eyes a little.

"So, it was them that punted Lung out into the Bay?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where are they now?"

"Ash in the wind. He had an injury from before he arrived. Dying already, I think. After the punch he shrank back down to your size but was coughing blood. He… gave me something. And then he died."

"You –ah– aren't hearing voices now, are you?" Dad's eyes were getting round.

I shake my head no. "No!" I realized he, we rather, had family in Boston and what it might mean to them. "He wasn't the Butcher, Dad. Besides, isn't that a 'she' right now? And they like skull iconography and have anger issues."

He blinked. "Okay. So not that inheritance, but some other kind?"

"I suppose. It does involve some changes though. Better come down to the basement." I get up and lead the way.

Dad finished the first longneck and started to reach for another. "No more beer!" I called up to him.

Sighing, he followed, taking a seat on the weight bench, I'd dug out and set to the side.

"Okay. Little bit of a warning. Bigger, blonder."

He got as far as mouthing 'bigger' before I triggered the change. I did not say 'I AM HERE' out loud, dammit. I was the blonde amazon body again. My clothes shifted into ones that could fit the bigger me, the threads taking a moment to weave longer. I reached down and thumbed the belt buckle button and switched them into full 'hero' mode, the costume shifting quicker this time as it was a memorized look.

With costume and visor in place, I looked down at him as he did an impression of a fish out of water.

He blinked and looked thoughtful. "Just a second." He got up and went to the plastic bins that held his old comics. He took one from the top, then found another and another.

Comics had been a dying breed on Bet since real powers emerged. Marvel and DC both had folded after only a couple of years, especially since the Protectorate printed their own comics with legal copyright to the licensed looks.

He came back and showed me three different comics. "Wonder woman, Captain Britain and a dash of She Hulk." He laid them down and I could sort of see what he was going for.

"Before you start thinking of marketing and names, I need to point out the bug powers didn't just go away, they were affected." I snort.

He paused. "Oh?"

I called Jumper over to me and charged him up with energy. I MAY have pushed more to him than I had before. This time he was as big as a Maine Coon, and I saw a piece of my costume had streamed to him, putting little wrist cuffs on all eight legs in my colors.

"Oh, fuck me running." He managed before passing out.

Right. Mom was the one with curiosity and understanding. Dad was the arachnophobe.

Mr. Jumps looked up at me and seemed to shrug eloquently. "Better make you scarce." I took back the energy, letting Mr. Jumps hide in my hair.

Getting dad into a sitting position I was able to rouse him with knuckles on his sternum from the side.

He roused slowly. "Oh honey, I had the weirdest dream just now. You were telling me you had powers and…" He broke off as I leaned forward with golden hair showing. "So, not a dream." His eyes went wide. "Was the spider real?"

"Yeah, but I shrank him back down. You won't be seeing him here much or up close."

"Oh, thank god." He whispered. Then he paused. "Golden hair from black. I had some manga that have characters that jump in power and get golden hair. Ah, you don't have a monkey tail, right?"

Blanching, I check myself. "Nope. No tail." Tails are a thing?

He let out a breath. "Well, it looks like you managed a second pull from the power lottery and won big." He paused, thoughtful. "You want to be a hero, check. Costume, check, though I don't know how that came about. Name?"

I cringe a little. "The belt buckle has a personal assistant and does cellular internet searches. It made an entry for me on PHO as 'All Mighty'."

Dad coughed. No, he laughed while trying to cover it. Finally, he wiped a tear away. "That is a terrible name. I love it."

"You … love it?"

"Take it from an old comics nerd all grown up. If your name means business you will be forced to fight for it. If your name is a little silly," He pinched his fingers a bit apart, "you can be silly or serious but fewer will take you seriously. That is a good thing. You can't pull off being a joke hero like that, but anyone that hasn't seen you up close may still dismiss anything you do as a fluke or luck. Safety in obscurity."

He got up and walked around me. "It may help that you don't look sixteen."

My 'what' look worked.

"Think of it. Lung won't admit you were involved or he was defeated by a girl. And you don't look like the girl he burned. The costume makes you a teammate or a relative, but not the real deal. The Empire won't gun for you as much since you are white and mainstream." He looked at me. "We need to check just what all of the Alexandria 'package' you have, but if you can't shrug off bullets, I will eat my hat."

I drew a circle in the dirt with a toe. "No flight."

He hummed. "Have you tried jumping?"

"Jumping?" I deadpan back.

"Well, you can put your power into your bugs, maybe you get something back? Besides jumping is a standard She Hulk thing."

I groaned at that. "Well, a skirt is right out then."

He waved his hand like dispersing a bad smell. "I would hope you opt to keep the pants version myself, although having an over-skirt might be less of a problem." He tapped my shoulders. "You could wear your mom's old pauldrons to make it look like you are only partly protected. Especially if you have to deal with mooks and handguns."

"Woah, there. How do we test if I have issues with bullets in a non-life-threatening way?"

He grinned. "You could always walk into a Protectorate office and take their affiliate tests."

"And get a triple strength Wards pitch?" I winced.

He gave me a side eye. "Have you already run into one of the locals?"

"Armsmaster."

He chuckled. "Already ran into the Halbeard himself? My girl is a wonder." He looked sad for a moment. "Too bad you didn't get a lasso of truth handed to you."

"Dad!"

I could tell he was just messing with me now.

**********************************

Armsmaster in his labs.

"Collin, you are verging on breaking the unwritten rules with this line of inquiry."

His minute shake was plenty to someone who knew him. "I am merely interested in how a cape from another world seems to have changed the balance of power here. Lung has been laying low after swimming to the lighthouse out at the point. Luckily the light keeper was of Asian descent and knew enough to call him a boat for pick up."

"The old man did not authorize your use of the camera systems."

"Correct. It is, however, part of the coast guard system, a government entity. The camera footage gained is anonymized by my software, but what it shows is that Lung limped out of the water. He was favoring his left side and spoke in a slur that suggested his jaw was not fully regenerated."

"That aside, you took a lot of footage of that teenager wearing mismatched clothes after being burned." She sounded petulant.

"Why Dragon, are you jealous?" Armsmaster let himself huff slightly. For him that was a full guffaw. "Hardly. I was more interested in the material that came from someone from a different world. No fastenings at all, not even a zipper. I wish I'd been able to secure it for study. Thankfully, it is likely the heat produced by Lung's actions would kill any possible biological pathogens."

He paused. "It did not occur to me until just now. The girl had been burned but healed. Not by any power she had. And yet, the one who did it dissolved to dust just after doing so."

Dragon cleared her throat. "There have been cases of powers that used up the cape themself. The villain Burnout. Curmudgeon could be another example. And there is the tin hat theory that Eidolon is slowly burning out each power he calls on."

"I will believe that about Eidolon when he stops being able to pull other powers and not a minute before."

********************

The basement, Hebert residence.

"The way I hear it, the testing grounds for New York are more thorough and better funded overall." Dad pointed out. "You could take a day to run through tests. You should have no issues if we say it is looking into complications to the hospital stay."

"Okay. I can follow that. I should mention my belt is already spoofing the cellular system so we can use it to call their offices and make an appointment."

Dad nodded. "In the morning then. Who knows, maybe they have options for a Saturday visit."

"How are we going to get there? That's like 200 miles, right."

He smiled. "I see you remember your geography quizzes. But I think I have a way, I just need to call in a favor with a certain delivery pilot."

*********************

Brockton Municipal Airport

"Dan old son, I don't know how you talked me into this milkrun of yours. You two may be sticks, no offense Miss, but you will still cost us fuel." Ron talked like a midwestern man and wore a straw woven cowboy hat.

"You still owe me for a poker night loss and for that prop I dug out of the union boneyard when you couldn't afford to replace your last one." Dad pointed out. "Besides, you need to log hours as a teacher to keep certification right? List Taylor as a student, the union will pick up the difference in the fuel and I will ah 'donate' this case of peach lightning we found."

Ron perked up. "Peach lightning you say. Some of Lacey's work no doubt. You are on. Hope you are ready to learn kid, for those mason jars I will even swing wide and have you run navigation drills. While the boys get us loaded, I want you to read this bit on the venerable E6B flight computer. Flight school starts as soon as I stash this case in my office."

With no one around I look at dad. "Flight training?"

"Who knows? If you turn out to have some flight power aspect, knowing how to navigate will help. Unless that thing does GPS."

I was doubly glad that I'd found and set the options for the buckle to not verbally answer anything but a direct question from me, addressed to it as 'Buckle San'. Just in case.

I settled down to read the papers which I surmised was the minimum requirement to teach the basics when real calculators and such took over things electronically.

"So, this is your basic Whiz Wheel. The way I hear it, some fliers in the Protectorate have this shrunk down to a ring or something, and there are Pilot watches that have features of it, but this one works like this…"

In no time we were in the air, in a very loud and rickety seeming airplane. There was a bit of cargo and a few men or women in the 'passenger' section, some of them carrying suitcases that were cuffed to them.

"Don't mind them. Couriers are a terse lot. Banks and corporations shuffle documents around this way and other ways to keep each other guessing. Cargo is the same. Sometimes it is high value artwork, other times fifty pounds of green M&Ms, but always in unremarkable crates." Ron joshed. "You're with me Taylor me girl, Dan you get the jump seat there." The latter folded out from just behind the pilot and copilot seats.

We'd gone over the flight route on the map before he filed an amended one. It hadn't changed really, but he was showing me how to do so and all the steps needed in one go. He didn't expect me to memorize it though.

"No, no. That's for full blown ground school and the second and other trips. This either lights the fire for flying or puts out the spark. You either love it or hate it and this is the way to find out. Either way, you get to La Guardia today by nine and can hitch a ride back at oh-four-hundred tomorrow. Or you find your own way back."

"You know I think I saw a form for civil air patrol credits in the booklet. Maybe I can get some educational credits for this."

"That's the spirit. Now look at your sightlines and check the fuel usage so far against the waypoint. If one or more of our couriers underreported the weight they have we may need to adjust. And this here is how we adjust for the tail wind we have this fine morning…"

********************

At the airport, we found our way to the civilian part of the terminal, and from there got into a cab downtown to Central Park. From there, we walked a way through the crowds of people, just more tourists. In a bathroom on the edge of the park, I changed into my other form with my costume and left dad in the park on a bench feeding pigeons.

He had wanted to come along badly, but we couldn't really come up with a reason for an adult to need a parent to come along. And I wanted badly to be the eighteen-year-old I appeared to be in cape form. I left my student ID with him.

The entryway to the Central Park adjacent Protectorate offices had a series of airlocks with doors that would only open to one person at a time, locking the interior door before allowing each person to move on.

I headed toward the one marked for Power Testing. Instead of an immediate airlock like the others appeared to have, I was allowed into a short hallway before I reached a waiting area with bank style windows of three-inch plexiglass.

A bored looking attendant handed me a clipboard.

First test, filling out paperwork with no flat surfaces to rest the clipboard on. I tossed them back the empty pen and filled the rest with a pen I'd brought.

There were two other people in line to be tested. One of them was leaking green fire around their head whenever they were frustrated, which appeared to be often. I put myself between him and the younger looking girl.

She spoke up in a Brooklyn accent. "You got a name? Cape, I mean. I am using Bogey for now, since Bodega was taken."

"Don't laugh too hard." I say, "All Mighty."

She raises an eyebrow, but it is the guy who snorts hard enough that green fire spews out of his nose. "All that and modest too." His flames lick the floor around my feet, but there isn't any pain.

I shrug, "Eh I was going to make a post on PHO and a text to speech thing kind goofed it up a little. Seemed like a waste to try to change it right after setting it."

She looked at me closely. "That's a pretty fancy costume for being brand new to the scene."

The guy piped in "Might be a legacy. Pretty good stuff as she didn't even notice when some of the flames got on her. Sorry 'bout that by the way."

"If you don't mind me asking, why Bodega and settle for Bogey?"

She holds out a hand. "I can port stuff to me from a designated location. Anything in the space I claim for my own can be in my hands anywhere I am."

"So, if you had confoam grenades stored you could bring them to you. Ammunition etc. Have you got bicycles stored handy?"

She nodded. "You get it." She laughed. "But right now it is mostly just the stock of a corner convenience store." Looking over to the guy. "And you?"

He tries to flex a little. "Burninator"

"Really?" She rolls her eyes to me. "You probably won't see much of us once they get us going, unless you are a blaster as well as being all that." Her gesture compared her lack of height to mine.

The door opened and a trio with white coats came in. "First up, All Mighty. Come with me." And so my day began.

Lifting stuff. Lifting stuff that looked fragile. Lifting stuff that was unwieldy and long.
Pushing, bending.

There was a bean bag and pellet range where they upped the hit from puff to pelt and a little more before I called a halt. Pretty sure they were in 'small arms' adjacent. I hadn't felt anything yet, but it was getting old. They did mention flashes of light that occurred on contact that suggested a skin level forcefield.

I was encouraged to punch things, then punch with restraint. I did NOT punch as hard as I could.

They tried to take blood. No dice, couldn't get a needle in. A system to generate increasingly dangerous levels of burn and cut until apparent damage occurred revved up and up and then finally made a scorch mark on my arm. It stopped and I saw them taking notes. The mark faded in moments.

The questions were leading. After the initial physical stuff, a set of troopers inserted themselves into the room along with an officer who started with the questions.

"How long have you had your powers?"

Disbelief at my answer. 'Days' was not what they expected.

"Where did you get your costume?"

"Can't say. I thought I was here to test my powers. My costume wasn't made by my powers."

"So, it is Tinker tech. You will need to submit it for testing…" He stopped as I stood up and started for the door. "You can't leave."

"Really? Are you putting me under arrest?" I shake my head sadly. "This isn't leaving me very interested in partaking in the Protectorate party line."

"We could foam you up." His face was pinched now, must not like having his authority blocked.

I nod. "You could waste taxpayer dollars that way. If I can walk through concrete walls, you don't think I could shrug off confoam? I believe Brute 6 has been noted down."

He blanched. "Who told you that? That is not information you should have."

"Puhlease. They haven't even gotten through to the Thinker tests, let alone asked about anything else."

"Else?" He fairly squeaked. Clearing his throat now, "You are withholding information about unknown Tinker tech in violation of the agreement you signed at the start or testing."

My smile made him flinch again. "And the penalty for withholding information as listed in the very document I signed is the end of the session if the Protectorate feels it is necessary. You are PRT, not Protectorate." And there's the rub. They are two different departments with shared responsibility.

"Director Wilkins has the right to determine if you are a threat to his area. You won't give us contact information, have not listed a home city and you are using untested Tinker tech."

"Say it two more times and assuredly it will be true." I muttered. "I have not broken the agreement to exchange information about my powers for the option of becoming an Affiliate. How much I decide to share is how much I decide to share."

"Are you a case 33?"

"I would have to know what that is to answer that." I am still at the door but not reaching for it. It wasn't lost on me that the nozzles for the confoam sprayers are tracking me.

"A traveler from another world." he states.

I turn and laugh. "Is that what this is all about? No. I am a citizen of these United States, Bet origin, local to the northeast but not from New York itself."

The door I had been aiming for opened and a cape was there. Black bear motif, fur trim and glossy black mask. Easy in her own skin, especially when you count the three roughly bear shaped things behind her. Dirty blonde, but it looked like she used some coloring.

She was holding out her hand to shake. "Hi there, I'm Ursa Aurora. I hear you go by All Mighty and you are giving our junior officers conniptions."

I shake hers, not going for the grip they always talk about. "He does seem keen to take away my toys before I've done more than prove I can handle myself. Interrupted the real power testing crowd and tried to twist my arm over it."

She stepped past me into the room, but I noted the bears had not, clearly a little much for the room. I turned to keep her in view.

"What can you tell us about it?"

I sigh a little. "Buckle allows me to suit up or look like I am wearing civilian clothes. It has cellular connection, a personal assistant, and no it was not locally sourced. The guy who was wearing it was dying and passed everything he had on him to me after he punched Lung into the Bay."

She nodded. "We'd already noted the connection and have Armsmaster on the line. He has noted you have not spoken a lie as yet but have skirted the subject several times." She chuckles. "He is currently asking us why you chose to go to New York for testing."

I smirk. "I heard that New York had a bigger facility for testing and there was less chance that the local gangs would know everything about me by nightfall."

Ursa paused, listening. "There is a lot of sputtering on his end right now. What is the thing about the spider?"

I look over at the seething junior officer. "Oh, can we continue this without any more demands or threats? Show me to the next testing area, Goldilocks."

She did a double take on me, her brows down and angry now. 'How did you hear about that nickname?"

"Duh. I can see your roots from this close, and you have three bears of different sizes, a Papa, Mama and Baby." I point at the three in turn.

She blinks. "Dammit." She mutters and the bears sort of average out to three of the same size. "Oka, call me Ursa though."

"Fine, you can call me Mighty if you prefer." I roll my eyes as she leads the way, one bear in front of her and two following behind me. "Can you see through them?"

"I do get a vague awareness of what they feel and where they are, why?"

For answer I have Sir Jumpy come out of my hair and give him a boost to squirrel size on my shoulder. "Any of my bugs I get whatever senses they have with a little conversion drift for the type of eyes."

She stops and looks up at me. "How do you get cute spiders? There is no way he looks like that normally."

"Just a standard jumper. The wristbands come from my costume, to help mark it related to me I suppose." Jumper runs down my arm as I hold it out.

We come into a testing room. It is remarkably bare of insect life, except for a few cockroaches in a storage cabinet.

"Armsmaster's notes said you said bugs, plural." The white coated woman led with that but quickly added, "Sorry, force of habit. I'm Dr. Smythe."

I raise an eyebrow. "The pain?"

She snickered. "No relation." She pointed to a table with a set of cameras set around it. "If you would?"

Sir Jumpy leaped across the room to it, landing easily and waving at the camera.

She looked at me. "Are you doing that?"

"Not aside from pointing him to the table. He understands me at this size and makes his own actions as needed. I brought along a sample of his web line to test." I open the small bag and pull out some of it. "Looks like heavy nylon but I bet it will hold like steel cable. This is what he makes at the largest size."

"Can you do more than one?"

"Yes, but there has to be another kind of bug to use as a base. The only ones in here besides him are some German roaches in that cabinet."

"Thinker as well as Master. You are just a little bundle of joy."

I tilt my head. "I don't understand."

She walks over. "This is where I keep snacks." She takes out two boxes, dry cereal and some kind of crackers.

"Good news then, when I make one big it grabs all the mass of any others in the immediate area until I release them."

Taking the boxes to the table, she sets them down. Sir Jumpy eyeballs it. I control one of the roaches to come out and give it a dose of energy. The roach grows to around a foot long and that was startling, but then Sir Jumpy leaped onto it and killed it, wrapping it up in practiced motion.

"Yeah, probably not good to grow his natural food around him." I grimace.

Her eyes were wide, but with excitement. Ursa Aurora though had sidled toward the door. Her bears were watching carefully.

"Is that as big as you can make them?"

"Nooo." I gesture to Sir Jumpy. "The rope sample you have is from him being more like a Pitbull sized. That needs a lot of spiders in range."

"And your range is?"

I lean in a little, waggling my eyebrows. "Big enough that I could pull from Central Park right now."

"But you mentioned you can't grow a species not in close range."

I shrug. "Haven't tried. So far, I've done spider, wasp and now roach and that last one didn't exactly have a lot of time to shine."

"So why did he get the wristbands but not the roach?"

"Buckle San, can you answer that?"

The room quieted as the voice spoke clearly. "Sir Jumpy is an acknowledged sidekick to hero codename All Mighty."

"That is an AI!" The annoying officer was back.

"That is a belt buckle. Quiet mode engaged Buckle San."

"Hai."

"Of Japanese origin. Though it speaks English well, the emphasis on certain syllables is clear." Dr. Smythe added.

"Still not handing it over." I note. "Were you aware of a head lice incursion among your men?" I ask in general but glance at the officer. "I could probably grow one big, but it could be hungry."

His exit was quick and not at all running. Several troopers followed him out.

Though she waited for them to clear the door, Ursa Aurora chuckled darkly. "That was not very nice. May come back to haunt you."

"Well, he was acting like a louse, and he had a big head. I never said it was an incursion on him. The lice I described were on a group of kids going through the meet and greet downstairs with the Wards I'd guess, I just had them trail off and file into the webs of spiders you have living in potted plants along the path."

She blinked. "You can sense through your bugs."

I snort. "Lice are notoriously short sighted. Although if you want an NDA for it, I can tell you Apiary isn't a true master. She can emit pheromones that the bees react to."

"Apiary? I don't know that name." Ursa looked confused.

"I wasn't the last one to come in for testing today. She brought a beehive in on a red wagon. Bees hear just fine."

"Is she the nutter that walks around Central Park?" Dr. Smythe asked.

I shrug. "Not from New York, so I wouldn't know. But her bees are happy and normal, not Afrikanized and not some BioTinker's creation."

"You have experience telling the two apart?"

"Not per se. But I have been able to read their impulses for things like mating and hunger and such for months. If they were Tinker creations there would be gaps in the flow of things, like being able to note a Photoshopped image from the original."

Sir Jumpy had cocooned the roach up and injected it but wasn't really hungry. His reaction was to store food for later. I gesture, shrinking him back down and bringing him over to my arm and up into my hair.

The roach I let the energy dissipate and the cocoon sort of deflates. "Looks like whatever leaves the bug is left at size, but when I take the energy back, they return to original size. Since I don't feel any roaches in the room now, that got all the rest of them, eggs as well. But they are likely wherever they were to start with."

Dr. Smythe just picks up the two boxes and drops them into the trash.

"So, do you have any more insects riding in your hair?" She asks.

"Not yet. Though I may in the future. Some aren't as useful without a lot of them being around as well. And, well I haven't had a lot of time 'out there' if you get my drift." Air quotes added.

"Why do I get the feeling you are younger than you look?" Ursa asked.

"That tenacity is unbearable." I fire back.

We both smile as that exchange had caught Dr. Smythe drinking her cup of tea, ripping a cough from her.

"Out of here, both of you now! I have two others lined up behind you. Take her along to Blaster testing."

We file out like ducks and pass a regular trooper escorting a girl with a wagon holding a beehive. I stop in the hall for a second. "Apiary, right?"

She blinks up at us owlishly. "Yes? Do I know you?"

"No, just recognize you from the description. I am a Master of insects myself and I would like to trade a service for a couple of your bees."

"What service can you do for me?" She seems like she is playing along.

I directed a couple of the affected bees out of the hive to my hand, alarming her as she was controlling them to stay put. "See here? On their backs?"

"Mites! But I spray for them monthly…" She was worried for her bees. So cute.

Ursa was waiting but monitoring. "Are you going to do what I think you are?"

"Yeah, I am. Would you mind having your construct do the honors? There might be a mess."

The mites were almost too small for me to control but I was still aware of them. I grew one and it picked up all the mass of the mites within the city block. The ugly little thing looked like a fuzzy red horror to be honest. I directed it into the reach of the projection who squashed it flat, leaving a patch of mess on the floor.

"Let me just call janitorial services," Ursa muttered.

"So that was the service, when I grow an insect, it gathers all of the same in an area to do so. By smashing it they return to the original point, even if dead. That includes any eggs the spray missed."

The splotch on the floor disappeared. The mites on the three bees I had called over to me reappeared but fell off, dead.

"So, you want to keep those three?" Arched eyebrows.

I nod. "Yours are from the Midwest, right. They are different from the ones around where I live. I want to test if my gathering up 'bees' for a large one is by exact species or if it generalizes to bee-like creatures."

She nods. "Done. Also, here is my card. If you need to source bees in general, I have good contacts. If you are willing, I can also pass along requests to handle pest issues you seem well set up to handle."

I smile, taking the card. "Just the thing." The three I fly into my hair to settle in, albeit as far from Sir Jumpy as I can.

Stepping aside for Apiary to move along we head to another testing zone, this one more like a gun range. 'Blaster zone'

Ursa Aurora seems like she is just allowing me to go where I want to, not expecting me to step into line.

The officer in charge looks at me and checks the range is clear.

"Can I get a baseball or something?"

He snorts and goes to a shelf and pulls down a wire basket of various hard balls. "A Brute with ideas is a dangerous thing. How strong?"

Ursa jumps in. "Tentative six, might be higher. She didn't opt for the full suite."

He directs me over to a firing lane that has no bench across it like the gun lanes do. This one is open downrange to the targets and a bit wider.

I select a softball out of the basket first. "Not claiming any great skill here, but worth checking." Fastpitch softball had been a thing in middle school, not like on a regular team but we'd played it rather than just doing runs and calisthenics.

I laid in a straight throw and found I was a little off to the right. It clipped the first metal target and spun it around with the sound of a heavy crack. He hit a button and another target took its place, just a little further out.

From his stance my guess is he wasn't impressed by softball, so I picked up a baseball and tried an overhand pitch. Unbidden I was thinking about what All Might had done, somehow his punch had spread out.

The sound it made was impressive. The target was a steel 2d humanoid figure, now bent in half at the point of impact. The baseball was in fragments mostly on fire.

Now he was looking at me with a bit of respect. He eyeballed my costume and belt. "Might want to add some pouches for thrown weapons." He rummaged around in yet another basket. "Try this."

I'd seen one before as a kid, a KMart bola was basically just three plastic balls joined by two lengths of kite string. This used nylon twine and leather covered iron weights I guessed. Same idea. Hold the central weight and swing the rest, letting go in the direction of the target.

I tried gamely. I missed my target and heard it wrap around a different lane's target entirely. "Sorry."

"What for?" He nodded to the line. "Most tossers have something they've practiced for years with. A bola gives you a nonlethal takedown at range, you can work on practicing the accuracy on your own time."

Ah, the Brooklyn blood was strong in this one.

Ursa was counting across her fingers. "You have Brute, Master, Thinker and Blaster ratings now. Are you going to whip out some Tinker fu next?"

"Does it count as Bio Tinker if I grow my spiders and make rope sized webs?" We were on our way out of the firing range and I chuckled to see a grown man shake for a second as he visualized the size of spider that would take. "I could probably do something with paper wasps…"

She thought about it. "Yeah that is probably at least a Tinker 1."

The next testing area was for Movers. It was a little disheartening to find out I wasn't going to outrun a car anytime soon. The harness they clipped me into with the bungee cords –the jumping off of bridge kind not the hold stuff down kind– that gave me food for thought.

"It looks like you could do the whole 'leaps over tall buildings in a single bound'" The last bit sounded like some kind of old-timey announcer.

"My dad was a comic nerd, but he favored Marvel. That sounds vaguely familiar but I can't place it." I note.

"Superman, he was DC."

"Super man?" I deadpan back. "And you guys are giving me flack for All Mighty?"

*******************

It was almost five before I met back up with Dad in Central Park. I'd exited the Protectorate facility and jumped directly into the park, landing in secluded walk paths and shifted into my civilian look. Being able to tell where there were walkers by the insects around was a plus for operational security. A set of flies I had keeping tabs on him were how I located him.

He'd gone through two hotdogs, a full bag of popcorn –mostly feeding pigeons– and three different benches as the New York Police were adamant about people making out like they own the place.

"If I hear 'move it along, buddy' one more time I may snap," he noted. "Lets get some real food in us, maybe Ron can join us."

One call later and we met up with Ron and a few of his pilot buddies at the airport or rather at an adjacent restaurant run by retired pilots. Apparently he'd spread around how well I'd done in the short couple hours of prep and flight time. They pulled out a watch to give to me, one with a bevel that had a slide rule built into it. An Aviation Pilot Watch.

"When one of us retires or –heaven forfend– passes off this mortal coil we pass these along to budding pilots to be. There are fewer and fewer of us, so even if there is just a chance you catch the bug, old Harry's watch is going to you." Ron and the rest toasted us like conquering heroes.

Dad was a little bit googly eyed over the costs of actual pilot training, but I was thinking about 'services' I could do for recompense. It all depended on who I trusted.

Ron didn't have more than a sip of beer for the toast, and I was underage, but the others got Dad a little tipsy and they started belting out songs that he was trying to follow along.

As the tune of "I wanted wings 'til I got the goddamn things..." got going, I went outside on the balcony as I didn't want to be in the full bar downstairs.

Ron edged his way out as well, tilting his orange juice –with nothing else added– in salute. He sat down on one of the stools and just sat there amiably for a count of ten.

"I have a cousin who went through some real shit days growing up." He started, giving me the side eye. "Grew up fast, got into a dangerous line of work but is pretty good at it. You have the look." He paused to take a sip. "Going Hero or Vill?"

I goggled for a moment. Was I that obvious?

"No judgement either way, or neither if you plan on Rogue. Just saying." He noted.

I smoothed out my reaction. "What was it that gave me away?"

"Not any one thing, but like I said, I've been around a cape or three from growing up and there is a sort of confidence, the 'I can handle whatever shit you are about to drop on me' look they get. Unless they train out of it, but even then it slips out." He lowers his head. "Heard about the hospital thing. Pilot union is small potatoes in the Bay but we are standing with the DWU on getting things looked at in Winslow." He took a long swig of the juice. "That was all I meant to say, except that if you can do useful work around the field we can trade favors for the classes." He winked at that. All that build up just to pitch pilot training more.

There were hot bunks in the employee area where Dad slept it off. I took a nap and was back up to be part of Ron laying out the flight plan back. This was complicated by some ugly weather forcing us to go out to sea for miles and work our way around it.

"Good training." Was all Ron would say about it.

It seems the weather got all the couriers to 'find other ways' to Brockton. So we just had cargo aboard, and Dad in one of the regular seats.

We set out around three AM to get ahead of the weather.

To say it was bumpy is lacking in clarity.

Midway we were called on the radio. "VX-549, Coast Guard sweep for a capsized trawler reporting mayday. Can you assist in getting a location?"

Ron took a moment to check fuel levels. "VX-549 here, give me a grid. I am topped off and have four hours of extra flight time before bingo."

We were assigned a path, and Ron turned on a sort of search light that I would control from the copilot seat. There was little to see. Mostly waves and a spattering of rain now. The boat had capsized hours ago when the seas were rougher and the storm at full strength.

The stress of it was building and I could feel my range grow as I felt around for –anything really.

And then I felt a mass of crabs. Off to the right. I turned the beam that way.

"You see something?"

"Remember the conversation at the balcony? I know the crab boat is this way, there's no other reason for this many crabs to be by the surface in this."

I didn't realize Dad had joined us up front. "Ron, I hope you feel like earning the trust she is showing you."

"I don't know what you are talking about Danny boy." Toggling his radio on. "This is VX-549, my second seat spotted something at two o'clock, diverting along that path."

"Roger VX-549, if you can give us coords we can redirect a helo your way."

"There!" I can see them in the beam, coming up. I can see men hanging on by way of crabs climbing out of broken crab pots. I get up and push Dad into the copilot seat. "I am needed."

"Are you sure?" Both men ask.

I am already opening the door. "They need the help and I AM HERE." I'm six inches taller, bulkier and wearing my costume now. I probably should have waited to do this outside. The timing is good though as I launch out the door, the capsized boat is coming up.

Didn't really think this through, did I?

The bees! I push what I can into the bees, all three growing to dog size. It feels like I am smaller by doing so, more Taylor-ish than All Mighty, but they are strong enough to direct me closer to the target as I fall. Okay something closer to a glide with style.

I'd like to say I landed with panache. Hah. The sound of me hitting the hull was louder than the waves. The men working to climb up the side paused and gave me confused looks. Shrinking the bees back to mostly normal I had them return to my hair under the mask really. Sir Jumps is inside my right goggle, staying clear to the inside, tickling me slightly.

I look around and take stock. "Is there anyone unaccounted for?"

"All but the cook are here. We think he is trapped inside. He isn't a strong swimmer. Mikey is trying to get to him." The two are older, bearded men.

Sir Jumps isn't built for this weather and the bees aren't going to be useful, that leaves the crabs. "Come to me, crabs of the waters!" I don't know if it is something about being in costume or something to do with the powers but I feel just a little flamboyant. I only seem to shrink an inch because there are so many crabs

The king crabs I pick, four big ones, become gigantic. They started out three feet across and are now closer to ten. "I am controlling these boys so don't panic. They will keep you out of the water, just tie a line across the claw!"

The fishermen were wary but well, the choice was cold ocean and trying to climb a slick surface of the boat bottom or let the crabs that already got up there by climbing two sides of the peak while clasping each other. I clambered down into the water and found someone surfacing, sputtering, trying to clear his eyes.

"Are you Mikey?"

He screamed like a little girl. "Don't DO that!" He paused, assessing me. "You ain't hiding a fishtail are you?"

"Not something I do, but the big crabs up there are under my control. I've got some little ones swimming around to map out the inside. I think he is in the farthest forward storage area. Smart dude, he seems to have shoved a tube out the bilge line to get air like a snorkel."

"I know the way, but I can't find a flashlight."

"Let me take a stab at it." I submerge, and I feel the costume adjust. I just know it would be spouting off about underwater mode if I'd not put it to nonverbal unless asked. The mask cinched down to a watertight seal. I felt something cover my nose and lower face, air being supplied. A readout appeared making Sir Jumps well, jump aside. It showed a timer counting down from five… four and change in seconds. It showed just over five when I really started into the ship.

My useful costume decided I needed some light as well, so my forehead lit up, showing the flying crabs –cute little things paddling along in the water, using their rear legs like flippers. They weren't part of the intended catch but were usually released as they were separated from the preferred catch.

"Thank you, Buckle San."

"You are very welcome." It answered. Oh boy, it has a full headset integrated in the mask.

I note a direction laid out on the display. The plans for this boat display on the lower half. I see we are still accessing the internet. Good boy.

I moved directly up the passage to the door. Locked or jammed. Okay I poked a hand through the metal and pulled it off the hinges. I have to clear some boxes and stuff and find a leg. Ah, he'd stacked the boxes to stay in the air as much as possible. He is panicking, kicking his leg.

"Buckle San, can you give me a buddy breather line, to share the time left?"

"It is done." I can feel it in my left hand, the tube part of my left sleeve.

I lunge up and find Mikey wide eyed in the light. I hold up the breather, bubbles rising and offer it to his face. He exchanges his redneck snorkel tube for the mouthpiece, grabbing onto me. No we don't do princess carry, chubby boy. I grab the back of his still deflated life vest with my right, the left held to his mouth so he can breathe. The numbers are ticking much faster now, even though I am pretty much holding my breath.

I use my legs to propel us, kicking off the doorway. He is limp as I move, letting me do the work. Or at least not interfering. As we exit I almost bump into a Coast Guard diver coming in. He sees me and gives the thumbs up.

Helicopter above. Huh, I don't suppose deep sea crabs have much need for hearing so my minions had not noticed it.

The diver used a line from his air tanks to inflate the cook's life vest. I guess the guy passed out on the way out. Once he had a line clipped on, the diver took out his rebreather. "I got this one ma'am. If we send down lines can you have your ah, pets, pass them over?"

I tap my mask and it slips aside. "You got it." Reaching out a hand, the third crab puts a claw tip in mine. It lifts me out of the water to the waiting men.

"Okay boys, our ride is here. Your Cook is fine."

"Bob. His name is Bob."

I chuckle. "The only guy who sinks like a rock is named Bob. I can't wait to find out the name of the boat."

Mikey winced. "Well it was the Lucky Star. If we can get her dragged back to port I plan to rename her."

The other two, part owners I suppose nodded at that. Ah, he was the captain. "What do we call you, so we can thank you later?"

I have the first crab nudge the harness over to us and start helping the next man into it. "All Mighty." As I say it, the costume flashes along the white areas, lighting us up more than just the flashlight on my forehead. The first man of the three left is raised up.

They laughed suddenly. "I don't suppose they got a picture of this did they?"

"I don't know, why?"

He gestured, "There is a bounty of $20,000 for the largest king crab brought on a boat each year. Any of these three would count."

I blink, "They don't have a parahuman power clause?"

He grinned. "They do not. YET."

I let the crabs shrink down as they left my range. All the pots were broken open by that point. The diver had left an inflated buoy with a light blinking to mark it for recovery.

********************

The helicopter ride was interesting. The Coasties jumped a little when I released the crabs as it made me bump up in height an inch or three. I ah, had to loosen the seat belt. The helo is a big one, with the pilots up higher than us in the back.

"Do you always come out for deepwater rescues?" Our water rescue professional tried.

I just shook my head no to him as he hit on me, unaware of my actual age. I spent a little time checking my watch, I mean it does say it is rated to 100 feet but this was a bit of trial by fire for that. I could see some of the instruments so I was able to compare our ground speed to the distance and work out the time left in the flight on my watch slide rule.

And then a burble of radio chatter had us diverting.

"We are being told to drop you at the Rig, Ma'am." The copilot told me through the headset he handed down. "They want your statement for the Protectorate."

"Is that usual?"

He shrugged. "We don't usually get cape assists this far out. If you are an affiliate there is a process to log it for pay."

"Oh joy, and here I just barely signed as an affiliate." That got a few open fish mouth reactions. The pilot did not look my way but I caught a few hand signs exchanged.

The Copilot tapped his watchband. "Nice Aero. My pops had one like that."

I nod, spinning the bevel and comparing the rate to the time in minutes. "Still about thirty minutes out, right?"

"Spot on for the muni airfield. Extra ten or so to go to the Rig, little more due to protocol with the Forcefield." He answered.

Right. And just enough time to pitch for the Wards if they figured out that I am also a Changer and younger than I appear. Well, at least they are unlikely to have compared notes with Lung.

Couple images from Chatgpt prompts


That was the second and closer, this was the first.

The helo was almost too big for the landing zone it was sent to. The other, larger LZ was reserved for PRT transports or the occasional Dragon sourced vehicle. The way the copilot brought that up made it clear he one day hoped to fly the latter.

"These guys will need a trip to Brockton General, but they won't mind helping you out." the diver spoke up again as we landed.

We set down and a crew ran over. One gestured me out and then waved a clipboard at those in the helo, once for each. He said something to the diver who relayed to the shivering men who each nodded.

I was ushered away to a set of stairs going down to a landing and then inside a room with a couple plastic chairs and a window.

"If you would present your ID." The trooper at the window said.

My face must have said it all.
"Affiliate ID miss. If we get done fast enough the brass won't be bothered for it."

I fished out my id from the slot behind Buckle San and presented it.

"Rescuees note you assisted both on water and a dive rescue. You used powers to enlarge crabs from their catch to assist. You also deployed the recovery buoy sent down by the Coasties, that is considered an assist. No penalties for loss of life on site, injuries or excessive use of powers."

"There are penalties for excessive use?" I found myself asking.

He nodded quickly. "Yes ma'am. Our best example is what is known as dynamic entry. If you enter through a wall when a serviceable door is available without a life being threatened, they will deduct damages from the reward. Our worst example is Glory Girl stopping a Brinks truck heist which is normally a ten thousand reward, but she did so by tossing a five-thousand-dollar dumpster through a plate glass storefront worth twice that."

As he was talking, he was filling in entries.

"Okay so there is an activation cost for an Affiliate account. Brockton city pays a bounty of five hundred for saved lives. Coastguard is matching that for offshore if you are primary on scene. They do a flat thousand adder for hazardous rescue. Salvage is ten percent of the value of the asset, but that one is split with the Coastguard. They also pull back for flight fuel so that is further reduced… And then Uncle Sam is taking a 35% cut for taxes unless you are a member of a corporate team?" He met my eyes and shook his head no.

"No."

"So, that is five thousand eight fifty deposited minus the two fifty in registration fees for the account. That leaves you with a fifty-six hundred balance on your card."

"Card?"

"Ah, your ID is functionally a bank card as well. Make sure you get a RFID protected wallet or holder. There are some unscrupulous types that will try to skim cards for cash, and as a hero they could tarnish your brand by using the account to pay for porn or 'things'."

Wow, I haven't heard a simple word like 'things' carry such meaning since Sunday school as a kid. Actually, we stopped going to that church soon after.

"You will need to assign a pin, at least five digits but up to ten ending with the enter key."

I covered the pad and put in my only memorized number set, the combination of my locker at school. Loathe as I was to remember it existed, the number was burned into my memory from night after night of dreaming I was back in it and trying to control my bugs into dialing the combination to open it.

"Not a fan of ATMs?"

"No. Just a bad memory associated with the pin I picked. Might help keep me from spending it too fast."

He nodded noncommittedly, if you have a 'hero' phone handy there is a barcode here for the catalog provided for services, mostly approved Rogue wares.

I brightened up at that. "Really? Is that open for Affiliates to sell on?"

He blinked. "I … think so. That question doesn't come up often. Not a lot of market for steel bar pretzels no matter how often one Ward or another tries."

"Then can you help me put together a listing for spider web rope lines? I can do five hundred feet spools of parachute line for one hundred dollars per. List thicker cords as proportionately higher and if they want specific spider varieties I need a sample."

He looked around. "There is usually a consulting fee, but if you would let me get a selfie with you and sign and number the autograph of the first bit of merch?"

"Merch?"

He nodded, seriously. "Part of the Affiliate program. They sell photos of you that gain value with autographs as you gain popularity. If you get a real following, they will make authorized figurines of you. Your take is 25 percent after taxes."

There was a photo quality printer cranking out a picture that the helo had taken of me getting lifted to the men on the boat by the crab. He handed me a silver pen, one of those spray paint things you shook up with that tink-a-tink sound.

"All Mighty. Date and numero uno." I checked his nametag. "To Hicks."

"This… It's your first!?" He blew the ink dry and quickly used his phone to get another selfie with the autograph and me in the pic. "Thank you. Really!"

A voice cleared behind me and I realized another person had come in, in costume.

"Oh, sorry, am I holding up the line?"

The trooper behind the desk snickered. Oh wait, army fatigues and a US flag bandana over the face, that is Miss Militia.

She tilted her head at me while looking up a little. "No, I am not here for him. I came down to walk you through an after-action report. Gill here took down an abbreviated version, but we usually ask for a dictated report with questions."

I finished putting away my ID card. "Already paid out for what you have, but I can hang out for a few. That does pose a question, if you divert my ride here do you provide a lift to shore?"

"That depends on how forthcoming you are to questions." She countered. "How did you happen to be in the area the boat capsized in?"

"No comment." I answer. Thin smile.

She raised an eyebrow, "What is your range for controlling insects?'

"Not just insects. Arachnids, crustaceans, some things I am pretty sure are worms. So far, the limit seems to be flea sized up, nothing that has lungs or true gills so far."

I was heading for the door back to the helipad.
"You naturally divert away from the details asked. Why is that?"

I stop and look at her directly. "So, if I asked you exactly how far you could shoot with your best rifle would you tell me outright or would you describe all the different kinds of guns you could create while not mentioning things like 'manufactured only' or that the list includes a Davy Crocket."

She blanched. "Well, that last is classified but the rest is tactic… Oh. Right." She shook her head. "Just because I don't sleep does not mean I can't get a little punch drunk after a long period of adrenalin."

"Well, you tell me about that, and I will give you a rough idea of what I did tonight. Do you guys have coffee or tea?"

"Follow me. The Ready Room will have a pot on and there should be donuts if Assault hasn't gotten to them all."

Three flights down and a key card from her and a swipe of my ID to get in. We had to wait a count of thirty for 'masks on' in the room, but it was basically empty as we came in.

"I am on shift now, just waiting for Dauntless to come in from his solo patrol. Then I go out paired with Armsmaster or sometimes he sends a Ward with me instead. Motorcycle for me, sidecar addon if the Wards are involved. Some of them have driver's licenses and use scooters or the rare case of a purchased bike of their own."

"If you do get your own bike, get pics to the PR folks and they will reimburse you. They love to add deluxe features to the merchandise."

"Then they will probably love Mr. Jumps."

She took a second to remember that aspect. "Oh, right, the spider. Do you have him with you?"

"In my hair now. He was hiding out in my mask while in the water."

She paused, "If it isn't too prying, can your costume reconfigure for diving?"

"Something like that. It might be more accurate to say my costume is made up of many little pieces that form linkages into what looks like a single piece. About the only things that are solid and the same are my pauldrons and the belt buckle."

"And your mask?"

"No. That's also made up of reconfigurable bits. Watch," I touch a section on my forearm, not controls per se but an area that Buckle San was showing sliders, "this one is the coloring of my lenses."

I draw my finger across, and the lenses go smokey and dark. Then I tap another to turn on the headlamp, briefly. Then another pass causes spots on the costume to light up and blink. "It isn't very obvious, but the boots generate the power as I move. If you see me rocking back and forth, I am probably recharging after using the lights for a while."

"So, you don't have a rebreather and a buddy breathing tube, but you can divert portions of your costume into a small air tank and tubing on demand."

I glance at my wrist as a buzz sounds. Ah, Dad touched down forty minutes ago and is sending a new text wondering where I am. He and Ron had circled the rescue site but had been routed in as soon as the danger was over. The text wanted to know when I'd shake free.

I tapped out an answer on the provided keyboard. "My housemate is wondering if I will be home soon. It is almost breakfast time."

She visibly checked the time. The lighting in here makes it difficult to infer how much time has passed. "It is after seven, how about I drive you over to the downtown HQ for a real breakfast on the PRT dime?"

"Sunday morning, is that the time the Wards come in?"

A dramatic hand to heart, "You wound me with accurate assumptions of dual purposes. If I introduce you to them, you are less likely to find yourself fighting one another. It is also the shift change for the Protectorate, so you get to see two thirds of the group in one shot."

"Lead on to your conveyance but be warned I expect… bacon."

The ride over became much easier by the expedient of putting on a full-face helmet she had while my costume reconfigured to allow it on. It was a little tight so once I was fully covered, I shifted down to mostly Taylor, which was as tall as Miss Militia but much less of an issue for her to drive the motorcycle.

"That must be very convenient."

"You can make a derringer to hide your powers and wear a slinky dress, right? Same idea."

"Touche." She paused a moment before starting off. "I always did a knife though a derringer might be handier. There's room to assign you a higher Thinker rating." There was that smile, based on how her bandana shifted. Her helmet was more of a half helmet, allowing her to keep to her signature look.

The drive across the forcefield bridge was interesting. It was all flat grey as it formed, with a light surrounding the segments as they seemed to fill in. Her bike is electric, with a width to it that suggested Armsmaster was involved with keeping it going. By that I mean her bike looked like a cut down copy of the Armscycle.

Huh. I bet Armsmaster grew up on the same comics Dad read as a kid.

Downtown was clearly waking up as we drove in. People waved, and there were cameras out filming. She pulled in near the front of the building instead of the parking garage and I found out about a feature I had never seen. As we got off and stepped clear, the panel she had parked the bike on lowered into the ground.

"We have a number of parking options for ready vehicles for Protectorate use." She said, then waved up and down at me.

Oh. I still had on the helmet and was civilian sized.

I bent over a little to take it off, letting the costume fill in my visor mask, then shook out my hair as I stood up in full 'All Mighty' size.

That got a few people looking twice as I was now easily seven inches taller. She waved and signed an autograph. I realized that Trooper Hicks had let me keep the silver pen. Probably want to keep one of these around anyway. So, I unlimbered it and the one young girl ready and waiting got an 'All Mighty #2' added to her book.

"Are you a new transfer?" She asked as I wrote it out.

Shaking my head. "No, I'm local, a new Affiliate."

She seemed to be let down a bit. "Hang on to that, bound to be worth more soon. That is only my second ever."

She escorted me into the building, after a swipe of my Affiliate badge to get past the lobby. "You are a natural at that. Most of our newer heroes have to take classes to handle the autograph crowds."

As we moved into the hallways toward the cafeteria I heard a wolf whistle. "Hey Militia, who's your friend?"

"Assault, that is hardly a way to make a favorable first impression." Miss Militia spoke up.

I looked and he was noticeably short. I never realized before that he would probably not be out of place in the DWU, although his hand as he holds it out to shake is noticeably lacking calluses.

I note Battery, who was around Militia's size, glowering behind the man. Her costume covered a lot but did not hide the frown she was making. I look at Assault's hand he offered and sniff, stepping past him to offer my hand to Battery.

"Happy to meet you Battery. You and Miss Militia are two of the three posters I had on my wall growing up." I glance aside to Assault. "The third is Alexandria."

He harrumphs a little. "Oh, I see how this is going. Don't push that stuff out where the Empire can hear you, they might try to make an example. Legend can get away with it but…" He stopped talking as Battery made a stop and 'Zip it' gesture.

"He is an idiot, make no mistake, but rarely has he led with the first three letters of his cape name so hard."

His hand counted out three fingers and he snickered. "Puppy made a joke. I knew she had it in her."

They fell in line behind us, clearly tired from a long night out on patrol. There was a smell of gunpowder and something pungent and powdery on their boots.

"Confoam release is designed to stink. It and being awake for most of the night, will tend to give anyone rough edges." Battery noted. "The way I hear it, you had a little adventure out at sea this morning."

"Oh, hey! Is this the crab girl?" He brightened up.

We reached the cafeteria proper, and Assault gave up trying to get a rise out of me as he headed out looking for coffee.

Militia pointed to the hot food line then stepped aside going for fruit and yogurt. I stepped into line and found myself behind a few Wards. I wasn't really paying attention to them, and they weren't focused on the people behind them, but I could see the girl in green would reach and the world would bend to her will so she could reach. The boy in front of her in line took the last of the bacon from the tray and retreated quickly despite her outrage. She must have kicked him from across the room as her hands were full.

I looked over the top of the countertop's cover and made eye contact with a server sitting on some boxes. I point at the cart next to him with covered trays full of bacon and sausages. Then I make a 'come hither' gesture.

He shakes his head 'no'.

I cup my hand to my ear and have one of my bees crawl out onto it.

He started to shake his head 'no' again but the growing bee visibly bigger than my head posturing at him with her stinger gets his attention.

"Bring the cart of food like a good little worker." I say, just a little bit of aggression in my voice.

Although he stands, he doesn't really move the cart. But the space between the counter and the cart shrinks down to next to nothing. I reach over the counter and pull the pan of bacon and sausages off the cart and slip it into the open slot. The space returns to its previous state and there is Vista taking off the clear plastic cover to serve herself.

"Thanks for that." She notes, passing me the tongs. "They try to hold back the second set until the officers show up. Big mistake."

I grab a fistful of bacon and a few of the sausage links onto my plate, then move down the line for scoops of scrambled eggs. Shredded cheese on top and hot sauce added, they even had some salsa.

"Come sit with us. Assault isn't allowed to be at our table." She looks up at me. "Although you might want to put away the bee."

"Not until I let her have some syrup, she and her friends haven't had anything all night." I snag a couple pancakes to go with it, syrup across the top.

"That is a heavy breakfast. Are you one of those high metabolism people?" She notes.

I can see she is middle school aged, still with a bit of what they call baby fat around her face, though the costume would hide anything else. Her gloves are off, tucked into a pocket like you would expect on a hoodie not a dress.

"Got a bit of workout this morning and need to replenish." I note, not answering really. Polite diversion.

I sit down with the Wards, Vista and Clockblocker on this side, Aegis and Kid Win on the other. There is an empty seat across from me.

"Gallant isn't here today, some kind of family thing." She noted. Ah, I must be in his regular seat.

Scooping some syrup off to the side I have the three bees fly out and line up on the edge of my plate to feed. They didn't feel incredibly hungry, so maybe some of the energy to grow them sustains them as well. Have to consider that.

I make strides in clearing my plate, more than halfway through when someone plunks down across from me. Dark full body costume with a dark grey poncho thing flipped back. Full face mask like a stern woman –resting bitchface– she has a plate with two sausage patties and a bagel.

She unclips her mask to hang from the side showing a young dark-skinned face and a silver mask still covering the upper half.

The smirk is oddly familiar but the voice cuts through my hunger like ice water.

"Who's the gorilla?" She asked Aegis on her left. "No pets at the table."

She makes a move like she is going to swat the bees. My hand is there blocking her line of sight to them before she has an 'accident'. The bees fly up the length of my arm back to my hair.

I know this voice. The hair showing from underneath the cowl. The fingernails with the blue polish on them.

Stay calm.

I picked up my glass of orange juice and chug the last of it down. Standing up I take my almost finished plate in hand. "I will see you later, Vista. Boys." Turning away I step over the foot Sophia Hess, Shadow fucking Stalker, tried to put out there in front of my path.

Just a little sigh escaped me as I looked down pointedly at her foot. "Grow up."

I took my plate to the return station and walked out of the cafeteria. There might have been a few raised voices behind me.

"Ma'am, can I help you?" A duty officer met me in the hallway.

"Show me the door before I make my own." I grit out.

His eyes went wide but he kept his cool and led me to the lobby. "There is a meet and greet after breakfast is over." He tried. He really tried.

"Nope. Not going to sit down with anyone that will sit down with her." I was not clomping my way across the floor. I was not cracking the tiles as I stepped. Nope.

I was in the lobby then, only waiting for a tour group to move along when Miss Militia came up.

"All Mighty, I thought you were going to stay for the meet and greet. What happened?"

I inhaled but kept the fake smile with no teeth showing plastered on my face. "Lost my appetite."

The tour group had filed into the first stop, a canned spiel of a video I hadn't seen since grade school but could almost recite. Militia cleared her throat and herded me into a small office off the lobby.

"You look mad enough to chew nails. What is it?" She looked concerned. Not prying. Not starting something.

My gorge was rising, the breakfast trying to come up. I looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. "I am betting you've been told I am younger than I appear. Wards age in fact."

She tensed but nodded. "Experience with the kids passing through. Turn of phrase." She shrugged. "No pressure, unless you want to join."

I chuckle. "Now why would I want to join a group that counts as a member the person that orchestrated my trigger event?"

The blood drained from her face, the part visible anyway, and she stepped back. "You know one of them in civvies. Not Vista, not the boys… Shadow Stalker."

"Ding, ding, ding." my face is not wet with the tears I am not letting out. "Told you I had a much lesser set of powers before I ran into All Might. But I still went out, looking for … a way to go out while doing good."

"You aren't going to…" She kind of glanced behind her.

I laughed. "If I didn't go Carrie on the school for the last three months. If she didn't suddenly find her room full of black widows, wasps or killer bees..?" I sigh. "If I didn't reach across the table and break her neck or stomp the foot that tried to trip me on my way out?"

Militia had the presence of mind to mutter a response. "Shit."

"Shit, indeed." I note.

"What did she do to you?"

I chuckle. "I have yet to specify who I am, but if I say any of that it would be no better than to hand you my student id. Fuck that. I am going to be a hero. I will still act as an Affiliate. But I will not tolerate being around her. That your standards are so low you would permit someone like her means I will at best stay acquainted with the Protectorate."

"You can't blame all of us for what she does, did."

I tilt my head. "Yes. I actually can. I will not out her. I will not hurt her –unless she comes after me. But you are tainted by your coworkers, Miss Militia." my hand is reaching for the door to the little office. "Bastion resigned over his words. She did far more than just use words."

"Come to the director. State your case…"

I opened the door and walked into the lobby. "Too late for that. Nice meeting you."

Walking out the door into the morning, I oriented myself toward the Bay. Four steps jogging down the sidewalk in that direction and I leaped. It happened pretty fast. I landed on sand on the beach. Thankfully it was low tide so I didn't just splash down. I turned north and sighted along the beach and jumped again. This put me halfway to the boat graveyard. I jumped again, landing fully in it.

The old boat I landed on bent where I hit. The sound was very loud.

This area was marshy, the water from the old Archer inlet was mostly fresh. The insects here benefitted from the old boats sheltering them from the ocean storms. I could feel a number of different kinds I could work with, and brought a large blue-eyed dragonfly to me. He was huge compared to the bees who were themselves twice the size of Mr. Jumps.

I really didn't want to deal with anyone coming to look for me so I looked for a way to get out of the area quietly.

"Buckle San, how did All Might get away from prying eyes? To change back I mean."

"Your costume has a mild stealth rating, the color can match the background. The sky is blue enough that anyone looking up would miss you from below like this." My costume changed to a robin egg blue, the same as the sky from below.

"And getting to that side of town without making noise?"

"Bees are strong enough to control a glide. Perhaps the dragonfly?"
I consider this. Growing the dragonfly comes easy, there are many of them around and he is a big one to start with. My shrinking to my normal height probably helped, but he gripped me under my arms and ribs and my hips with his legs and his wings made a buzzing noise.

He lifted off easily, carrying me into the sky. But I was not planning to stay very high. I knew of a park by Winslow, old and overgrown from lack of care. I headed that way, following the streets faster than a car would move.

It was Sunday, on the north side. None of the people who might normally be around Winslow were anywhere near it. The gangs stayed clear of the schools in general. Only the Merchants were up that way at all, and they weren't early risers.

I landed in the trees of the park and let the dragonfly return to normal size. I controlled a few bugs his way to snack on and parked him on my hair like a beret. Walking through the trees I returned to my normal form, changing from All Mighty to just Taylor, then toggling the civilian mode on my costume.

The Pauldrons ended up in the bottom of a backpack I was wearing. Light jogging outfit. Simulated version of the running shoes Anne got me. It was one of three presets for civilian wear I had: school, jogging and covered up civilian clothes. Buckle San had a color randomizer for my civilian wear, nothing too trendy but he could cycle through anything in my closet that had been scanned.

I made my way home, running into Dad who was waiting at the house. He wasn't panicking but he was a bit nervous. One of the local radio stations had reported that the heroine, All Mighty, had left the Protectorate in anger. I suppose the little office having a window open had let some of that conversation be exposed.

PHO posts by Clockblocker and later by Miss Militia had pooh-poohed the exit as having other things to do that day. Ursa Aurora had spoken up for me as well,

"Dad, I won't be working closely with the Protectorate. At least not here in the Bay. They've got a rotten apple right there in the Wards."

He slumped a little. Then he sat up, focusing. "So that is why they were stonewalling. One of your bullies is a Ward."

"I will neither confirm or deny that statement." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Just considering that could lead to one or both of us in prison."

He nodded absently. "And you didn't know until you met the Wards on base and recognized the offensive one."

"Bingo."

He opened his arms for a hug. "At least you didn't bring down a biblical plague upon them right there."

"True dat."

I showed them a hand that trembled slightly, turning it upright slowly into the sign for 'Hello'. Those of the audience 'listening' with translators perked up as they got to participate more directly.

Monday dawned too early, chilly. The storm from the previous day had rolled through and turned to slush on the ground that was slow to melt. This was going to be a problem for my bugs for a day or so. Brockton's usual weather is warmer than many areas close by, even the ones south of us.

My first thought was to keep my best bugs with me in something I could carry. Three bees, a spider and a dragonfly weren't so much but I would have more options with some ants, maybe a grasshopper. I needed something that had compartments, airflow and wouldn't injure my little army. The smaller sections could be the structure of pouches on my belt in costume.

Hmm, mom had a bunch of sewing things in little plastic boxes with lids. Knock off Tupperware pieces. I think she used them in my lunchboxes when I was elementary for pudding and such.

There was a larger plastic box, also with a lid, that would hold a number of them. I emptied most of the ones I would use and dug out a wood burner to melt holes in the lids for the bugs to come and go. It was the right size to fit into my backpack if I didn't carry around all my books.

My textbooks.

I had for so long just carried everything with me to avoid the locker. To avoid the memory of its existence even. But things are different now. For a week now my new attitude and confidence had stymied the trio and their followers from being able to harry me so much.

I read ahead and don't need the books for classes. No teacher at Winslow would call on a student to read from the book. Not when they can get by with handouts and assignments written on the boards.

That's why I only had the one book with me when I went to school today, with my plastic case of smaller cells. Only a few of them are filled so far. Well, that and a novel that I wanted to read but wouldn't be too sad over losing. Speaking of which, inside my backpack I had several gallon Ziplock bags. The textbook was too big to go into one completely, as were my folders, but I'd learned from several liquid accidents that putting things into a Ziplock with the top portion exposed protected the bottom, while covering that with an overlapping top bag kept something poured over the bag dry. This method I also apply over the bug box, being sure to leave a gap for air.

I was dressed differently, more at home in my own skin as it were. But I kept the old backpack, patches sewn into jeans materials. Mom had made the first iteration, and I had resewn it or patched it from outgrown pants. The only missing part was the BFF patch that Sophia had ripped off as 'proof' of Emma being over me.

Coming up the stairs to the door it looked like they had fallen back to their old habits.

There was Emma and Julia, lounging on the handrail and Sophia stepping into the flow of students trying to go through the door. Madison off to one side, playing lookout for teachers.

Let's see, the usual would be stopping the flow, throwing around a few scathing remarks about my clothes or the 'ratty old backpack'. Sometimes there would be a physical component like a shove or they would try to grab my pack for keep away culminating in dropping it into the garbage can next to the entrance. But there is a wildcard in play they weren't counting on.

Off to one side my bugs noted another gathering that had reoriented as I walked up. Three jocks and two cheerleaders of all things, all seniors. Ah, one of the boys is dark skinned and the cheerleader on the left is one of the islander mixed heritages –hard to pin them down without some clues there– so this is clearly not an Empire push.

They formed a V shape coming to intercept as I started for the ambush.

"Taylor!" the lead called out.

I stopped, confused, turning toward them. You could almost hear the record skip, and I think Emma might have almost fallen off the rail in surprise.

"I'm Yenna, this is Corwin, Robert and Nate." Up close I would lean towards Hawaiian as a guess.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

The darker guy, Corwin spoke up while holding up an arm to show a familiar watch style. "Uncle Ron told us you were doing flight-time this weekend. He said you were a natural and even got to play spotter for rescue at sea!" Okay he wasn't just a jock but a bit of a nerd.

Robert smiled easily. "Ron is 'uncle' to a lot of us aiming to be pilots or go for the military." He said easily. "With you getting a watch, a legacy, we wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know about the civil air patrol meetings –if you are interested?"

Nice smile. Down girl, the cheerleader on his arm bristled a moment until I looked away. But then I saw she was looking past me to Emma's crowd. "We put two and two together and realized you had gone through a rough patch with your class year." She crossed her arms. "That ends now."

Through the bugs I had covering the area I could see Emma flinch at that. Sophia took a few steps closer, daring them to tell her off.

Robert addressed her and now I really pegged the build the guy had. He was a runner.

"Coach Tillman frowns on members of the track team taking part in hazing, Hess. If you want to stay on the team that is." He turned away, dismissing the junior team member.

I was caught up by the elbow and escorted in. They brought me to the office itself rather than to my first class though. Here, Yenna took the lead.

"I'd like to report a bullying incident against Miss Hebert here this morning." She spoke clearly.

The clerk sniffed loudly. "I'm sure the drama queen there spun a solid tale of woe…" She wound to a stop as she focused on the two cheerleaders, the captain of the track team and two from the football team. I hadn't seen the letters on their jackets until they were walking in front of me.

Nate spoke up. "We observed the event ma'am; Miss Hebert was being denied entry at the south door. There was a very real suggestion of a physical attack about to take place, derailed by our taking interest. We are making a report of it as we have been directed to do so."

"It would be your word…"

"Which we wish to enter into the record. Four seniors in good standing." Yenna noted. "The forms, please?"

It was surreal.

Instead of my word against all the others shouting me out, they were supporting me against the popular kids –well those from my grade. Word was spreading quickly too. The seniors played hands off for the most part, as they were much more interested in the transition to the working world and the laws governing it. To put it bluntly they had already 'grown up'.

By association they had made me off limits to the 'games'.

Though I did not share classes with seniors, they were often free to move between the classrooms as aides or volunteers.

Yenna had 'pull' in the office that Emma wished she had. Where Emma hid behind her father being a lawyer to cow opposition, Yenna's mother being the sitting Vice President of the City of Brockton Bay School Board was both stick and carrot.

Two days into the surreal circumstances and I found myself coming to a Civil Air Patrol meeting, kind of like a mix of scouting and on the job training for pilots, after school was out. This meant that Emma and her cronies had left before I was done for the day, having long left by the time I reached the doors.

Yenna handed me a manilla folder. "My mom pulled your academic records and read through the case file –the revised one– your father is bringing to bear. She told me to say it is partly to cover their ass, but they have arranged for you to take proctored assessment tests. If you score high enough you can finish out the year in senior classes and graduate early."

Doing something I would not have considered safe in the months gone by, I answered truthfully. "As if I could trust any test proctored at Winslow to not result as they prefer."

A hand touched mine. "The tests are proctored at Arcadia by independents."

****************

With my civilian life coming together, I decided to generate some spider webbing rope stock. Not to in any way insult Mr. Jumps, there is a hierarchy of web quality and Jumpers are not top tier. Besides, it takes a lot out of the little guy, though giving him a sheep sized roach for a snack made him pretty happy to do so. So, I decided to limit the rope sales to one spider at a time and one species a time.

It was here I found that the concept that different spiders had different personalities and when one is enlarged the ego can get big as well. A basic Black Widow was controllable but must be monitored while working or else they divert from rope to instead create a death trap in the basement. It didn't try and attack me but when Dad came down to do laundry, well the incident did not do his heart any favors.

To round the test out, I then went outside and found a little Crab Spider which was already producing webs that cross the yard. This spider happily ran web lines from one end of the basement to the other back and forth for the cost of a moth. I felt a little sorry for the moth, but the chances were quite good it would have ended up in the crab spider web on its own.

This was just around an hour's work, the kind of thing I could do between dinner and a time to patrol as All Mighty.

So, I came up from the basement with a cardboard tube spindle in each hand. They weren't heavy but each one covered in parachute cord sized rope in webbing looked like they would fit in a… Huh, I went back down for the third but also spent time digging out the old camping gear.

Sleeping bags rolled up into sleeve covers that looked just about right for these to fit, and we had three. I stuffed the last one in down there and came up to find Dad just kind of staring at his phone.

"Oh, did you look up the listing on my Affiliate page? Were there orders for web spindle already?"

He rallied and gave me a faint smile. "Y-yes. There are enough back orders you could spend several weeks just making webs before you made a real dent. Um, why did you think you would be hurting for funds again?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to get a newer computer –not dissing you Buckle San– for my civilian side use. At five hundred a spindle, I will be at this for a couple weeks like you said before I can afford it."

"Five hundred? Hun, the listing is for five-hundred-foot spools at one hundred per … foot." He held his hands an inch apart and then spread them much wider. "That's fifty thousand dollars a spool."

I digested that. I was holding the cost of a new car in my hands. An expensive car. Two of these could get close to a supercar.

He made calming noises. "It might be something of a fad market, once it is saturated you may not have steady buyers at that price."

***************

The notification pinged on Armsmaster's visor, distracting him from the plans at hand. Availability of spider silk cordage from All Mighty. The price was significant, but he expected after his tests he could sell on the remainder to interested parties. Three spider varieties? She was anticipating his requests.

Calling up Dragon he absolutely did not gloat over having first refusal of Affiliate goods produced in his area.

"Collin, don't you dare try to sell hundred-foot lots on to Toybox at the full price of the five-hundred-foot spool."

"I would never think of doing so. Unless you suggest it. No, I will be nice, it was just a moment of idle thought."

*****************

With three 'sleeping bags' tossed into the truck, Dad and I took a drive downtown. We found a spot in the parking garage under the mall going up to the food court. Five minutes after we arrived, Mr. Jumps emerged from underneath the truck the size of a cat. He attached a line to each then jumped to the wall and climbed up, reeling the sleeping bags into the darkness between hanging lights designed to put light below them.

Dad and I split up for 'shopping' and I returned to the garage; a wave of bugs having built up over the cameras while I was in the mall proper. Shifting to All Mighty mode, I met Mr. Jumps, and we took the spools downtown to the PRT HQ. Or rather I did, since I returned him to regular size and had him in my hair as we went.

Going in the entrance and signing in with my Affiliate card I ended up talking to some folks from Power Testing as they also handled power produced materials. Stripping off the sleeping bag sleeves they oohed and aahed the labels I'd added in Sharpie marker noting the spider types.

"Can you supply proof of the spider varieties you state you used?" The more pinch faced man spoke up, somehow giving me the feeling he didn't believe I'd done anything at all.

"Buckle San, can you provide video of the three spiders producing without identifying background details?"

"Hai, link mailed to official cape phone."

"Thank you, Buckle San." I hold up my phone and show the video moments later.

Pinch face again talked down to me. "That could easily be faked."

"What would your offices accept as proof this material is produced from an enhanced spider?"

The man, slightly balding with very little chin and a superior-to-everyone attitude drew himself up to lecture me on scientific method.

I grew Mr. Jumps to dog sized. "Would you like to become an object lesson in FAFO?"

Mr. Jumps helpfully drew out a loop of his own silk in rope size and ran along the table. He scooped up an empty coffee mug and proceeded to wrap it up into a yarn ball of spider webbing. He was quite fast at it, having helped immensely in rolling up the spindles earlier.

"Well! I never!" He spluttered.

The others had processed the card and put the money into the account. At first, I thought they miscounted, then realized Uncle Sam got his cut off the top. An additional ninety-seven thousand five hundred added put it a wee bit over one hundred thou.

That was a nice round number.

Much better than a summer job.
I turned to the woman of the pair. "Nice payday for an hour's work, yes?"

She just nodded. "There is a note here that they would like to request specific species samples, with a sample of each shipped here. They want you to produce the line here under watch as they require the spiders be returned afterwards."

"That's fine. Just note down that production 'on camera' as it were, is an additional ten thousand an hour. With the kind of money this is getting me I can probably afford to take a flight to wherever these spiders live, produce the material and come back." The smile I give is a little less heroic than I preferred to use, but they deserved it after that. "I could probably find a way to bring them to the Bay anyway. Strider's rates could be recouped pretty quickly."

I had a thought then. "Also, have them bring something that the spider species eat as well so I can feed them after. You really don't want a peckish pony sized spider around without something the same size you wouldn't mind it eating. Preferably with a locked room and one way glass. I do not have to be in the same room after I start them weaving. And it helps if the room is big enough and measured out, so we are clear as to when five hundred feet is reached."

Taking my leave, I headed back to the mall by jumps, only over shooting by a half mile or so.

***************

Coming inside as All Mighty got a few odd looks but since I wasn't chasing anyone the crowds calmed down quickly. I bee-lined to the better electronics store and began browsing among the laptops for sale.

I was there when I heard a commotion and then gunfire. Great. Idiocy and the Mall go hand in hand.

"Everyone get down!" One voice called out. "This is a robbery. I want the contents of every register in the bag pronto!" This guy was wearing a pillowcase over his head with eye holes cut out, oddly with the corner of the pillowcase visibly taped down by duct tape. He had a military styled rifle, a short thing like an M-15 out of the movies. His buddy was in a similar pillowcase, in blue silk no less, waving around a large caliber handgun.

As everyone else ducked down I waited.

Pillowcases are not great for peripheral vision. I sent Mr. Jumps onto the ceiling around cat sized.

Only the girl pulling money out of the register seemed to know I was there.

She hissed. "Duck down or they might spray the store to get you."

Replying in a low tone, but not whispering as that called attention, "Pretty much bullet resistant. But that is a good argument to stay low yourself."

"Are you going to actually DO anything?" She had put all the money in a plastic bag and was about to head out into the common area where the two were accepting money from their victims.

"Give me that and get down, okay?"

Her nod was thankful. Taking the bag, I walked out of the store slowly, letting the other clerks retreat so that I was the last one coming out.

"Get a load of this one!" The handgun guy crowed. "Thinks she is a cape."

The other one was a bit smarter in general. "Cape?!" He swung the rifle toward me, putting it up to his shoulder.

"Calm down, I am just bringing out the till, the clerk was a bit scared."

Both were tense. "Yeah, just put it in the shopping cart with the rest. No tricks."

I put the bag in the shopping cart, shaking my head. "Did you guys think to put on your ah masks before or after you entered the Mall?"

Handgun was feeling his oats. "What's it to you?" He was holding his gun close to me now. I was holding my hands up while talking.

"Well, you know the cameras in the parking lot would record two men in a particular set of clothes getting a shopping cart from … Target… into the main mall."

"Fuck." Rifle boy muttered, hearing sirens.

"Are either of you arachnophobes?" I ask, smiling brightly.

"Ah whata whats?" Handgun asked, his gun dropping in his confusion.

I point up.

Mr. Jumps is falling at Rifle boy, who tries to swing his weapon up to bear. Handgun lunges his gun into my stomach and is confounded when I grab him with one arm pinning him to me, gun between us.

I take him along with me as I move to the other guy, my hand catching the rifle which he helpfully started bringing down to shoot at me. I had it by the front grip, hand around the barrel as well. He triggers a round just as I squeeze the barrel shut.

The noise is –well– deafening.

Mr. Jumps lands on him, applying a webline around him, skittering in a spiral down around him, wrapping legs tight and then working his way back up.

Sounds came back. I noted the Handgun boy was going limp. Ah, he let off a round as well. No injury to me but the rebound off me had to go somewhere.

I took the gun out of his hand and made it 'safe'. Scrunched into a lump of metal was safe, right?

The powder burns covered his arm and stomach, but the wound was on his leg.

"Buckle San, call nine one one. Gunshot wound, left leg. I need a way to slow or stop the bleeding." Huh. Spider silk. "Mr. Jumps, give me a glob of the stickiest version you can make."

I apply it like a bandage, pushing it into the hole a little. "Another." I plug the back side of his leg the same way, lower toward his knee. It slowed the bleeding, but there was still a lot of leakage.

Buckle San was talking to the operator for me, describing the wound. I looked around the crowd that had closed in. There was already someone holding out an autograph book.

"Please stand clear until the Police arrive. No, I will not be giving autographs covered in blood."

I thought the EMTs were supposed to be the First Responders but there was a news crew setting up, waving for me to come give an interview. I ignored them.

Mall Security was trying to keep the crowd back now. "Security, could you please have someone waiting to bring the EMTs straight here?"

One of the younger guys peeled off to do that.

"Excuse me." I turned to see a girl in a blouse and jeans right there. "May I have permission to heal them?"

I blinked. Freckles, brown hair.

"I'm Panacea, ah Amy Dallon."

Oh, right. "Yes. Stop the bleeding on this one. I don't suppose you can knock that one out?"

She had already grabbed onto Handgun boy who was quickly unconscious and a lot less leaky in moments.

Touching the webbing, she seemed to lose focus a bit. "Wow. This is weird stuff, it reads like real spider web. But that isn't possible." She looked up at me. "Are you a Tinker, is this from a gun or…" She drew back. "This isn't from… you, is it?"

I chuckled. "Ah no. He did it." I point left.

Mr. Jumps is perched on top of the heap of Rifle boy, He didn't bite, honest. Waving one spidery leg hello, he struts a bit, proud of himself.

"Bio Tinker?" Panacea's voice dropped to a stage whisper.

"Still wrong. They categorize me as a Master for that power." I note.

She doesn't turn to look but I can tell she wants to. "That power suggests more than one."

"Guilty. I got a bit of an upgrade package." I smile as she reaches out a finger. Mr. Jumps eyes it but puts a leg out to touch her finger.

I can't help myself. "Ouuuch." I deadpan in the voice of E.T. "Elliot phone hooome."

Flashes suggest the moment was captured. I hope they didn't get the audio on that. Panacea laughed a bit. "He reads like a spider, but with something extra my power is sort of shaking its head over. That is new. Huh, it always felt kind of bored when I healed. Now it seems to be interested."

EMTs showed up, with BBPD members. I let Panacea explain the two men's condition while I give my statement to the officers.

When asked, I showed my Affiliate card. "What prompted you to endanger these bystanders by involving yourself?"

The glowering face was on a detective, business suit rather than uniform. He did not look happy.

"Would you like to hear my statement of events?" I answered calmly.

He reassessed me like I'd pulled a weapon out. "Go ahead."

"These two opened fire to get attention and called for the stores to each send out the contents of their registers." I point back to the electronics store I had been in. "I was shopping for some gear. The clerk of the store was worried I would confront them and get the place shot up. I offered to peacefully deliver the bag. When I brought it out the handgun wielding one closed distance to within reach. I signaled my sidekick to get their attention from above."

He interrupted. "Sidekick?"

I point to my shoulder. Mr. Jumps did a circle on my pauldron. "Don't freak out, I can make him bigger."

"Bigger?"

Cat sized Mr. Jumps waved at him.

I am impressed by his lack of reaction. "Not something I see every day. Continue."

"With the rifle pointing up, I grabbed this guy close, trapping the gun between us. I moved us to the other and crushed the barrel to keep him from shooting anymore."

He looked around again. "So, this was not in fact grandstanding. You were disarming them when the one discharged his weapon between you and him, and he took the shot. The other one fired as well, the backblast nearly blinding him. I take it you are a Brute?"

"Six according to the testers." I pass over my Affiliate ID. It has color codes on it that show me as Brute, but also Master. Those I know, but not sure which mark out the Thinker or Blaster.

He apparently knows the codes, whistling a bit. "You have quite the collection there. Brute and Master don't usually pair up. How long have you been doing this?"

I smile. "Got that a few days ago. Total time as a cape? Under a month."

He frowns. "A month. That would be around the time Lung got punched into the Bay…"

"Wasn't me."

He held up his hands in defeat, smiling now. "Nope. Not going to fall for that. Next thing you say had better not be a lead in for Abbot and Costello."

My turn to smile. "I don't know…"

Together. "Third base."

A warm glow enfolded us and I noted a floating blonde in a tiara coming closer, focused fully on Mr. Jumps. My traitorous spider was waving to her with two front legs in a universal 'pick me up' pose.

"Victoria! Aura now." Panacea spoke up as she rose from checking the guy with the burns. She approached. "You didn't look hurt, but may I check you out?"

My blush is a surprise. "Not that way!" She also blushes. "I mean, are you injured?"

I touch my stomach, where the bullet bounced. No pain. "Bruise at most. Probably already healed." but I reach out anyway. "Give it to me straight, doc."

She looks constipated. "You are a real mess. Likely something about your power but you read like an amalgamation of a dozen different DNA sets." She looked at Mr. Jumps for a moment. "Not all of them are human."

Raised eyebrows. "You should point that out to the Protectorate. They missed that aspect entirely during testing."

The BBPD were wrapping things up. EMT left while we were still talking. The crowd was drifting back into shopping mode. "I still need to make a purchase. Excuse me."

Panacea and Glory Girl had left. Something about the Mall bringing up bad memories…

Back in the electronics store I found my selections still on the counter where I left them. "Can you ring me up here?"

A different clerk was there. He started tallying things. Two laptops, not top of the line but good models from Dragontech. "You the one who took Myra's place?"

"If Myra was the girl on duty, yeah."

He rang it up then applied the employee discount. "Best I can do without a manager around."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

*****************

I had Buckle San text Dad to 'meet me at the house'. Mr. Jumps webbed my packages into a neat little bundle that I rigged up as a backpack but turned around to be on my front.

I had jumped up here from the courtyard but almost lost one of the bags, the handle half tearing out on landing. No sense in paying through the nose only to smash it to bits on the way home.

"Nice work in there." Ah Glory Girl was back. "Glory Girl." She half saluted me, floating there above me on the roof of the mall. "You mind if I ask why the front carry?"

I smile back, "All Mighty." I open the belt compartment for the dragonfly. He flies out and lands on my back, growing significantly. I shrink down maybe a foot as he grows large enough to support my weight.

"Cool. Dig the name by the by." She changes tone as my dragonfly show wings on either side of me... "Hey! Something isn't right here. Even at that size he shouldn't be able to keep you up except for short –I mean really short– distances."

"Tell that to the bees."

"Whut?"

"Scientists have been saying bees shouldn't be able to fly for years, right?" I crouch down. "There are articles all over on the web."

'Engage camouflage mode please, Buckle San.' I muttered.

Glory Girl looked up from her phone, having the search half typed in. "Did you say…"

There was nobody there.

***************

I'd jumped high into the sky, my costume darkening to near black as we got into the low cloud cover. The dragonfly didn't start his wings moving until we reached apogee. I got a sense that he enjoyed the movement without the effort for a bit. Then we were coming down at an angle, heading for the north side, between the docks and the house.

Another small park, one on my usual route as Taylor while jogging. Landing near the clubhouse for the baseball field.

Having the dragonfly, normal sized, return to the pouch on my belt. Shifting the web pack around to the front and having my costume switch to civilian mode, covering the bundle to look like I was wearing a backpack.

Jogging clothes.

This wasn't the greatest neighborhood, so I kept to the lights. I noticed movement ahead, my bugs hearing a whispered conference.

"Hell no. Not her." I couldn't place the voice and there wasn't enough light in the alley to get visual from the bugs. The speaker shifted, "You don't beat a dog on the ground, and you don't hunt a wolf in the forest. Nan may spout all crazy about a lot but that much she got across." Huh Asian sayings. The words sounded a little off, but I got the meaning.

I repeated the sentence as he spoke it. "Buckle San, what language was that?"

The pause said a lot. "That was in Japanese, with an Okinawa influence. Akisamiyo."

"So, I was hearing it from the bugs and understanding it as English. Crazy."

"Hai, Akisamiyo indeed."

***************

Dad was home and waiting for me. "Let's see what you got." He smiled, knowing that it was Christmas all over again.

"These are purchased with my cape ID so I will need to use only my cape cellular connection, Buckle San will be acting as the router for us both wherever we happen to be. Well, as long as he and I are in range."

"So, what is that range?"

"Buckle San?"

"Approximately one thousand miles. Please place these into the USB slots on the laptops."

The buckle ejected a pair of mini sized USB dongles that fit in and almost disappeared flush on the new laptop. Dad did the same.

"With those enabled, communication to the laptops is also facilitated."

Dad got this glint in his eye as he pronounced. "Well, thank you for that gift. Being able to stream your activities to me will do wonders for my ability to sleep at night."

"Buckle San, did you just install a nanny cam for my father?" I groan a little.

"This unit has noted that while you are a fitting heir to All Might, you are also technically underage."

I have a feeling I am going to be limited on how late I can go out without permission. Is it too late to join the Wards?