Firebird, a Worm AU/Xover?

[chibipoe]

It's that time again, folks. Wildfire is currently on hiatus as I sort some details out, so here's something else to tide you over. No idea whether this will go as fast as Acceleration did, but we'll see..

Important note: The Nine are dead. They will not feature in this story in any way.
However, without further ado... I give you...

Firebird
​

Table of Contents:

Slumber
1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 1.5, Interlude: Sophia & Madison, 1.6, 1.7, 1.8, Three Lines

Dreaming
2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.5, 2.6, 2.7, 2.8, 2.9, Lost Angles

Dream Eater
3.1, 3.2, 3.3, 3.4, 3.5, 3.6, 3.7, 3.8, Three Glimpses

Sleep Walking
4.1, 4.2, 4.3, 4.4, 4.5, 4.6

Side Arc - Evolution
Act I - Relocation

Timeline of events(in-progress)
Artsy things from people:

This is likely Taylor's costume, eventually by @Auberan

Fanart of Rockshow by @Sasha

Fanart of Hanabi by @Sasha

Lineart of Trainwreck(WIP) by @Sasha

Nazis can't catch you by @Sasha

Credit to @Auberan for photoshop efforts for the picture.

Omake:

Crack by @Seclorum
Splits by @Galeiam
Frank's no good damn dirty bad week by @Seclorum
I did a thing by @Franklymydear
Insight by @Galeiam
Retcon by @OverReactionGuy
The Shipping Chart(sigh) starts to invade by @Sasha
The Shipping Chart 2: The Reshippening by @Sasha
I expect you to die, my dear by @Seclorum
How Taylor made it to the hospital by @Seclorum
Invisible House 1 by @OverReactionGuy
Invisible House 2 by @Seclorum

Omake on SB:
The Monkeywrench Factory by Nikas

Beta credits to: @Noxturne90, @Parselmaster, @SpiralAK, @landcollector, @Seclorum (in no particular order)

Word count as of 4.4: 215705​

 

[chibipoe]

1.1
Winslow High School.

I hated this place. Even now, after they were supposed to crack down on the bullying and ensure that no further incidents happened, they still did. It was every bit as virulent as before. They had just become better at making sure their actions weren't obvious.

I hated this place. I hated them.

But it didn't matter. I hadn't figured out the reason behind it, but I had power now.

Or rather, powers. Several smaller abilities. Precognition, minor telekinesis.

Which confused me. My brief research into- I paused in my thoughts and leaned to the side slightly as a spitball soared past me harmlessly. It struck the student sitting in front of me, someone whose name I didn't know or care to know. He twisted in his seat to glare, first at me, then beyond me toward its source.

A moment later, he gave me a disgusted look and turned back around.

"Mr. G, Taylor just hit someone with a spitball!" Madison's voice said sweetly. I suppressed a groan and began gathering my books, already knowing what would happen. I could see it clear as day, unfolding before me. He would ask her a question:

"And how do you know that, Madison?"

And she would answer:

"I just saw her flick it into Ronald's hair," she would reply. I didn't even need to turn to know she was giving him a completely honest expression, looking for all the world like she was completely innocent in the whole affair. And then:

"Is this true, Ronald?" Mr. Gladly would ask. "Did Taylor hit you with a spitball?"

To which Ronald would say:

"I was hit with a spitball, Mr. Gladly," he answered, not turning to look at me. "I didn't see where it came from."

Then:

"Well, Taylor, what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, his determination of my guilt already set in stone.

"Your class sucks," I replied, closing the flap on my bag. "You can go ahead and send me to the office or whatever, since you've made up your mind." And, like the other times, the next moments unfolded before me as I stared off to a spot past his shoulder as if he wasn't there.

Mr. Gladly's face turned red as my words fell into a sudden silence, heard by the entire room. "That sort of disrespect is completely unacceptable, Ms. Hebert."

"So is the treatment I'm getting here," I said flippantly. "What's your point?"

"That's it!" he said, reaching toward me. "We're going to the principal's office right now."

I stood before he could grab my arm, moving just past his attempt to corral me with what appeared effortless ease. My bag swung around, blocking his arm by hitting the wrist as I strode forward through the opening that gave me. Three steps and I calmly skipped over the outstretched foot that would have tripped me, clearing the aisle of desks in seconds.

"I know the way," I said as I left the room, ignoring his shouts to stop. Even as the door swung shut, I felt eyes on my back and I knew who they belonged to. Sophia.

I kept walking though. Whatever her problem was now, I didn't care.

Behind me, I heard the door open and Mr. Gladly shout my name, but I kept walking, heading for the principal's office. Distantly, I hoped this would be different from my other visits, but I knew better. Still, unlike my other visits, maybe I could...

A smile crossed my lips as I thought about that, feeling the beginnings of a slight headache as I pushed that aspect of my powers to see what Principal Blackwell would say during our conversation. That could be entertaining, at least. I kept going toward the office, ignoring Mr. Gladly's attempts to rein me in.

"Ms. Hebert!"

I stop, turning slightly. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, red-faced.

"To the office?" I asked, my tone indicating that this was a stupid question. "I didn't see any need for you to leave the class unattended when I know the way there?"

"This sort of behavior is entirely unacceptable-" he began.

"Unacceptable is actually you determining that I was firing spitballs without any evidence to support that fact aside from the word of someone who hates me," I countered. "Was there anything else? I really have places to be."

"Ronald said you did it!" he raised his voice.

"No, Ronald said he didn't see where they came from," I corrected. "You didn't ask me if I had done it, or do anything beyond take Madison's word that I was responsible. That's completely unacceptable to me and I'm removing myself from that environment."

"You're going to the principal's office, is what you're doing," he growled, reaching an arm toward me. I stepped back easily, leaving him grasping air.

"I think I've changed my mind," I announced. "I think I'll just leave, instead."

"You can't!" he shouted.

"I can't?" I mocked, wondering in the back of my head what was sparking this defiance. Realization struck a moment later. I had powers, I was special in a way no one else was. I didn't know how I knew this or even why, but I knew it was true. "Can't isn't something that applies to me, Mr. Gladly. So here's what is going to happen now. You're going to leave me alone, go back to your classroom and annoy them. I'm done here." His eyes met mine and I could almost feel our wills clashing. I felt a pulse of heat and his eyes lost focus and he turned, nodding.

"Yes," he was saying to himself. "I have to teach class. Run along to the office, Ms. Hebert."

I watched him go, frowning. What had just happened? I had told him to go and he had obeyed. Mind control? For a moment, I had felt as if he had been trying to resist me, but I was stronger and he failed.

As was right.

I frowned again and then shrugged. Whatever. I was done here.

I walked out without bothering to go to Blackwell's office. Dad would probably badger me, but I simply didn't care.

I didn't know why my powers were different from everyone else's, but some instinct said that they were and the few things I could do now were just the beginning. I would grow stronger. Stronger than the Triumvirate. Stronger than Scion. This world would love me.

Or it would burn.

--

 

[chibipoe]

1.2

The mood in the room was somber as Armsmaster strode in, then stood, the attention of various Directors focused on him.

"I trust you have a report for us?" Assistant Director Tagg said, his expression irritable. Armsmaster didn't respond, his suit's internal displays advising him of this man's position and authority. Handled Assistant duties in Bismarck, as well as former operations lead on a Simurgh containment zone.

Instead, Armsmaster turned his attention to the Chief Director, Rebecca Costa-Brown. "At approximately 1400 hours on January 5th, a manifestation graced the skies over Brockton Bay, centered above Winslow High School. The manifestation appeared as an avian construct made of fire and held its position, wings spread, for exactly ten minutes before dissipating. No one within the school witnessed anything. However, due to its unknown nature, one relatively new agent panicked and sounded the Alert, resulting in the students being filed out as per standard evacuation procedures."

He paused to order his thoughts. "At that time, Protectorate assets arrived on site accompanied by PRT agents and established a cordon, checking over the students for any signs of injury as well as discreetly taking a head count against the attendance rolls."

He stepped forward and activated the room's holographic systems, bringing up an image of a teenage girl, with long, curly hair. "It was quickly determined that the only student we could not account for as either present or absent due to illness or such, was one Taylor Hebert. Age 15. Upon review, we considered that Ms. Hebert may have been the recipient of a Trigger Event, and awakened as a parahuman."

Armsmaster paused a moment as the image changed, to reflect the results of their medical testing. "Myself, accompanied by Velocity, Dauntless, and Miss Militia entered the facility and conducted a thorough search. Our reasoning was such that we believed Ms. Hebert might still be within in the building somewhere, potentially distressed."

His jaw tightened into a grimace. "We found Ms. Hebert comatose and trapped within a locker filled with feminine biological waste products."

Several of the directors looked disgusted but said nothing. "We extracted her and arranged for transport to Brockton Bay Memorial. She remained unresponsive for two days, during which time I authorized the appropriate scans under the Rogers-Banner Act to ascertain if she was a parahuman."

"The tests showed as negative. Upon awakening, we questioned Ms. Hebert and though she had her belief as to who had incarcerated her within the locker, she had not seen them as they shoved her from behind. An inquiry to the staff and student body returned nothing conclusive and that matter was turned over to the Brockton Bay Police Department." Armsmaster paused again as the image switched to a video file, showing the bird of fire as it erupted into the sky.

"Unfortunately, the Rogers-Banner Act does not provide the latitude to conduct scans on the entire student body," he resumed. "Discreet surveillance has been assigned to Ms. Hebert, but she has displayed no signs of parahuman ability. The source of the avian fire construct remains a mystery at present."

"Why aren't you putting eyes on all the students?" Tagg demanded.

"At present, we lack the manpower to place surveillance on the entire student body and staff of Winslow," he said urbanely. "To say nothing that such a widespread action would undoubtedly be noticed. I submit that your suggested course of action would be ill-advised and prove more of a hindrance than aid."

"Armsmaster," Director Costa-Brown said, cutting off what reply Tagg had been about to make. "Have you considered the possibility that Ms. Hebert was the one responsible? That she may be occluding her status as a parahuman in some fashion? The appearance of this avian fire construct, as you described, did coincide with the worldwide disruption of every precognitive Thinker ability that we are aware of. Certainly, it must be considered that she could disrupt the readings of the tests as well."

"Considered and dismissed, Ma'am," he said politely. "Being trapped within the locker would more than qualify as a Trigger event, when considered with the other details she provided us. However, the instances were a parahuman newly awoken to their powers would have such a degree of fine control, especially while comatose, is so unlikely as to be astronomically impossible."

He straightened, letting his gaze room across the directors. "However, with no other leads to pursue, I have taken initiative to see what I can learn. The simple fact is, we lack any other concrete source as to the origin of this entity. The panic of the one PRT agent aside, further study has dismissed the Endbringer possibility. With that fact in place, I will be conducting an on-site initiative at Winslow High to determine precisely what occurred there and if Ms. Hebert is a parahuman and if she was responsible for the manifestation of the flaming bird."

Armsmaster allowed himself a small smile in his thoughts, noting how many of the Directors cracked grins at his choice of words. Success. Director Costa-Brown remained as stoic as ever, he thought, but he was sure that the corner of her lips twitched slightly.

"How do you plan to do this?" Tagg interjected, apparently still displeased over something. Unsurprising, the man seemed to be in a permanently foul mood, from what Armsmaster knew of him.

"As the abilities of this parahuman are at present unknown, I am maintaining departmental protocols and classifying the exact details of my operation so that it is only accessible by myself and those I either grant clearance to, or are possessed of a higher clearance than my own. With respect, Mr. Tagg, you are neither of those, so I am afraid I cannot answer your questions."

He shifted, his manner brusk now. "What information that is available, I have submitted to your personal accounts according to your clearance level. With your permission, Chief Director, I have arrangements to make. Recent developments at Winslow have provided me an opening to initiate my research."

"Dismissed, Armsmaster," she said. He inclined his head and turned on his heel, exiting the room sharply.

~~~~~~~~​

His suit's helmet sat in place atop the display system where he kept it when not in use, with over half of his armor accompanying it. He made adjustments, packing away one of his gauntlets into the case on his workspace. This was a system he had been working on, for rapid deployment of his gear in the event he was off-duty. He had not had occasion to test it fully, but he had full confidence that it would work.

The door to his lab slid open and he didn't bother to turn around, knowing who was there.

"You aren't talking me out of this," he said.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hannah said. "But why?"

"Primus, I want to find out what the hell is going on at that hellhole. Secundus, I want to find the parahuman responsible for that little display and ascertain if they are a danger." He paused. "Those are not necessarily in order."

"Granted, but this... Colin... are you sure? This is unlike you." Hannah said.

"I'm fully qualified, I'll have you know," he said. "I completed all the appropriate courses and keep my accreditation renewed every year. It can hardly be more difficult than facing down Kaiser or Lung."

"And you want me to handle field operations in your... absence?" she asked.

"Armsmaster will still be operating as a member of the Protectorate in the field, but for the moment, officially, you are assuming Protectorate leadership here in Brockton Bay while he is devoting his efforts to a joint project with Dragon." he said. "In truth, however, Professor Colin Singer will be assuming the position of Parahuman Social Studies at Winslow High."

"Won't it seem odd to have a Professor teaching at a High School?" Hannah observed.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Unfortunately, Professor Singer is persona non-grata at the universities at the moment, due to an indelicate liaison with a colleague that was happened upon by the Dean. He's something of a rogue, you see." He glanced toward a mirror and frowned, rubbing his chin.

"I might want to shave this while I'm undercover," he mused.

"Armsmaster's known for having a beard though." Hannah pointed out.

"Dragon developed an aftershave that promotes hair growth quickly," Colin said with a shrug. "It'll allow further separation between Colin Singer and Armsmaster if anyone should penetrate my disguise. It is rather unlikely that anyone will, however as my work in this was flawless."

"Well, Professor," Hannah said. "Best of luck." He finished packing away the pieces of his suit, watching as the case's interface began disassembling the pieces, integrating them with its own make-up. Everything seemed to be in order then.

"I won't need that," he said. "But all the same, thank you." He closed the case and hefted it. Weight was well within tolerances and it appeared as nothing more than a briefcase. He raised his other hand in a brief salute and left his lab, with Hannah following him out. A moment's work, and the room was sealed and he was off to begin his investigation into Winslow and Taylor Hebert.

--

 

[chibipoe]

1.3

I wasn't sure why I kept coming back to Winslow. I had pressed the limits of my power so much that one day, I had passed out on my bed with a nosebleed and everything I had seen told me that nothing was going to change here. The Principal was apologetic when I complained, but always fell back to that without evidence, there was nothing she could do. If I pressed, she would just turn it back on me by insinuating that I was making things up in a plea for attention.

Mr. Gladly had left or been fired for some reason and there was a new teacher in school. He seemed determined to alleviate any issues I had during his class, but that just meant they tried three times harder outside of it. Attempts to trip or push me down the stairs, whispered remarks as they passed in the hallway, things shoved into my locker or taken from my bag when I wasn't looking.

I had a headache constantly now, from keeping my power running just so I could protect my things and myself. I was getting tired of it, tired of this school and the administration's refusal to do anything. I had powers now. I could change things. Become a hero...

And why should I support them?

On the one hand, the Protectorate had pulled me out of the locker. Or so I am told. I wasn't awake for that and other than some questions from a PRT agent inquiring about whether or not I had powers, which I managed to lie my way through using the very abilities I claimed not to have. They apparently were looking for a parahuman who had created some sort of construct in the sky over the school the same day I had been stuffed in the locker.

Whatever that had been, I didn't believe it was me. I had tried to make a giant bird of fire appear several times and nothing had happened except that I felt increasingly stupid. Maybe some other student got shoved in a locker and got powers and they missed them? I didn't know, but the closest thing I had to that was a heat aura that rippled the air while not giving off any actual heat. I'm not even sure heat aura is the right term for it, but that's what it seemed to resemble, the way the air ripples when you see heat rising off a surface.

Slowly, I stood up and backed away from the roof, heading toward the stairwell. I suppose the least I could do is give this new teacher a bit more of my attention. Maybe he really was different. But I doubted it. He would show that he was as bad as the rest in the end.

I took two steps on the stairs, then moved slightly to the right, continuing downward as a hand met air and its owner stumbled at the lack of contact. I didn't even look at the person, as I knew who it was. Somehow, they caught themselves before taking a tumble down the stairs.

"Should watch yourself," I remarked as I kept going. "You might fall down the stairs like that."

"Hebert..." my would-be assailant growled. I just kept walking and slipped into the hallway to reach my next class, avoiding some of the other flunkies to my tormentors and entered the classroom just ahead of the bell. I was calmly settled at my desk, which was thankfully devoid of any infantile stunts like glue or juice, when Sophia stalked in, turning a glare toward me that I would have flinched at or looked away from, before.

Now I just returned a bored look, thoroughly unimpressed. A moment later and the new teacher entered, Professor Singer. He had insisted on being addressed in that fashion. I turned my head slightly to look outside, watching clouds beginning to gather. Was it going to rain?

When my power told me no, I flipped open my notebook and began doodling while half-paying attention to the teacher. There likely wasn't anything I would learn in this anyway, so I kept enough attention on the possibilities so that I could look attentive while doing things more productive.

"..so with that in mind, I want some input from each of you regarding your thoughts on the development of parahuman abilities and their impact on society. In particular, how do you think the increasing number of people with parahuman powers affects those without and what they feel about that." He looked around the room, passing over me before stepping from behind his desk. "You are free to use any sources you might wish for this, but I expect you to cite them, if you please. Three pages, minimum and I would like it turned on by next Friday."

I blinked once, reviewing what he had said in my mind so I had an idea of where to begin. Unbidden, my eyes drifted to what I had been drawing, widening at the almost completed sketch of a costume. I looked it over critically, from the top to the bottom, eyeing the boots, the sash belted at the waist below the sigil etched across the torso. Gloves completed the ensemble, almost opera glove like and I frowned at the outfit.

It wasn't entirely practical. Those boots would hinder movement and the gloves were likely to reduce dexterity. The sash, too, was something that could be grabbed and used against you. Why would someone wear this? Why had I even thought it up? The questions were answered by a flash of realization as I gathered up my books.

Because they were so powerful that they could wear whatever they wanted. I left the class with a slight smile at that. What would it be like to have that sort of power? My musing and my smile quickly evaporated as I found my way blocked as I turned down the hall. Emma and her cronies, trapping me against the lockers.

"Can you believe her?" One of them said. "Coming into class and sitting there, thinking we want her here?"

"I heard she's turning tricks for the Merchants for a fix," another said. It faded into background noise. More meaningless drivel from meaningless gnats. None of this mattered, not them, not Emma's absurd fixation on tearing me down. Jealousy. That was all it was.

"What's the matter, Taylor?" Emma began, stepping forward with a cruel smile dancing on her lips. "Going to-"

I held up a hand and she blinked, caught off guard by the sudden misstep in the usual song and dance they were doing. I already knew what she was going to say and I didn't want to hear it. If she said them, I could see what would happen. An instant's searching and I had an alternative. "Yes, Emma. I cried for a week when my mother died. When she died. If that were to happen to you, I wonder what you would do? Or you? Or you?" I focused on her flunkies each in turn and saw them reel, looking uncomfortable.

"It's called grief, you stupid bitch," I snarled. "And the fact that you would try to use that, something I told you in confidence, as a weapon makes you even less of a person that I thought. Pitiful."

Emma reeled and then hate appeared on her face. "Big talk from someone-"

"Are you done?" I interrupted again. I couldn't let her gain any ground. "Because this really isn't worth my time. You aren't worth my time."

I could have avoided the slap. I chose not to. It made what would happen next more satisfying.

"Ms. Barnes, Ms. Hebert, the rest of you," Professor Singer's voice cut in and the girls all turned stunned expressions toward him. "You're to accompany me to the Principal's office. Assaulting another student is entirely unacceptable."

"Did you hear what she-"

"I did, and the comments from you and your circle of accomplices here before that," he cut her off. "Judging from your complete lack of denial when Ms. Hebert elaborated on what you intended to say, I'd judge her comments rather apt. However, as the victim here, she'll need to provide an accounting when we all go have a nice chat with the Principal."

"Wasting your time," I said, remembering other attempts to report things to the Principal. "She'll just slap them on the wrist, if she does anything."

His expression was hard. "I can be quite persuasive, you'll find. Now, all of you, move. And Ms. Barnes? You and your companions are advised to keep your mouths shut. I'm aware of your little whisper campaign to Ms. Hebert." She said nothing, but her expression was ugly as he directed us all to Prinicpal Blackwell's office.

~~~~~~~~​

"And what exactly is it that I am supposed to do, Mr. Singer?" Principal Blackwell said. "Suspend them for a heated conversation?"

"Oddly enough," he rumbled. "Surrounding one student and proceeding to insult and belittle her while pretending to be talking to each other like she wasn't there isn't heated conversation. It's bullying. That's without even bringing up the fact that Ms. Hebert was physically assaulted."

"I've heard the account," Blackwell said stiffly. "Ms. Barnes was clearly provoked."

"Standing up for yourself is provocation, then?" he countered. "I've observed more than sufficient provocation from Ms. Barnes and her cohorts that Ms. Hebert's response was subdued. That she restrained herself to only verbal replies speaks well of her."

"Unfortunately, I have several accounts here that they were talking only to themselves and not bothering Ms. Hebert at all when she began verbally assaulting Ms. Barnes, ther-" Principal Blackwell began.

"Are you calling me a liar, Principal Blackwell?" Professor Singer's voice was like iron, unyielding and the stare he was directing at her made her shift awkwardly.

"Not at all, but you were not present for the-"

"Ms. Barnes will be suspended for a week and her cohorts will face detention every day with me for their antics," he interrupted, leaning forward just a touch so he was looming over her at her desk. "I was witness to the entire exchange from when Ms. Hebert was penned in by them to her retorts to their sniping. I stated as much in my report. I don't know what sort of nonsense prompts your refusal to do your job and rein in this sort of behavior, but it's entirely unacceptable. Good lord, you had a girl stuffed in a locker with biological waste and someone else who may have become a parahuman, based on that manifestation over the school. And you're still condoning this sort of behavior by your inaction?"

"We had no witnesses to tha-"

"Don't," he cut her off again, "try that line of tripe with me. I'm fully aware of what they found Ms. Hebert locked within."

"You seem to be under the impression that you have some authority here," Blackwell retorted, her ire rising. "But I, you'll acknowledge, am the Principal here. You work for me."

"I work for the City of Brockton Bay," he corrected. "And you'll either do your job or I will be bringing your abysmal behavior to the Board of Education. I'm sure Superintendent Morris will be quite interested in the sort of behavior you're allowing to slide here. He has a daughter around Ms. Hebert's age, if memory serves."

Principal Blackwell stared at him for a moment before looking away. "Very well. Ms. Barnes will have a week's suspension for assaulting another student, and her companions will have detention. You, however, can explain this to Mr. Barnes when he comes protesting this."

"It would be my pleasure," Professor Singer said, nodding. "I will inform them."

"Just get out of my office," she said.

~~~~~~~~​

I didn't know what to think of this. Emma was being suspended and the others were facing detention. There was still Sophia and whatever she would cook up in retaliation, but I had avoided her for the most part since gaining these powers. I allowed a pleased smile to cross my lips as I waited for the bus. After a moment, I flipped open my notebook to the costume I had drawn. It really was hideously unpractical. I didn't have the first idea how to start on making such a thing either. But, maybe if I made some changes, I could do something more with my powers aside from avoiding bullies.

I dug out my pencils and began making modifications, my mind alight with ideas. It would need a mask of some sort, for starters...

---

 

[chibipoe]

1.4

Colin entered his house with a frown, glancing around curiously. How long had it been since he had been here? He shook his head. Not long enough, but it would serve as a temporary base of operations. Most of the furniture still sat where he had left it, dust covers still in place.

He picked his way through the hallway, footsteps sure even though it was dark. This place was somewhere he couldn't forget how to navigate. The hall closet was found, opening with a squeak. The hinges would need some touching up, he thought. A moment of fumbling and he flipped the breakers, restoring power to the building.

The living room was where he went next, carefully dragging away one of the dust covers. The row of photographs, each carefully framed, stared back at him once revealed and he smiled weakly.

"I'm home," he said, allowing his fingers to drift across one of the photographs for a moment before turning and pulling away several other dust covers. He had work to do.

Twenty minutes later and he had several computers set up across the coffee table, each powering up.

"Record, file ID Alpha-Seven, subheading: Suspected Pyrokinetic Manifestation." he said, the recording starting up as he began paging through his notes. "Despite more than a week of operation at Winslow and I have yet to uncover any clues to who was responsible for the display over the school. Under directives from my superiors, I've kept an eye on Taylor Hebert due to the possibility she was somehow occluding her parahuman status during the examinations unconsciously."

"While I believe this unlikely, instructions from the Chief Director are not to be overlooked, but as yet, Ms. Hebert has yet to display any abilities in the moments I have observed." Colin went on, frowning. "Additionally, despite my best efforts, I can only be in one place at a time. Will consider retasking an old project for deployment at Winslow to provide discreet surveillance. This will allow me to survey the area more comprehensively and perhaps find something that will lead me to the one responsible."

He paused for a moment, making a notation on a student's paper regarding their abysmal use of spelling and grammar. Whatever idea they had been trying to convey was lost amid unintelligible garbage.

"Indeed, the one encounter I've had the opportunity to examine Ms. Hebert in-depth where the use of powers would have been most likely, resulted only in her verbally lambasting one of her tormentors," Colin went on. "Discreet questioning has turned up that her behavior since the locker seems more aggressive, but that can be attributed solely to having reached the end of her tolerance." His eyes widened as he looked at another paper and he shook his head, making several scathing comments in red.

"Of more concern is the fact that the lull I've been taking advantage of has passed," he resumed. "I fear that other parties will move to conduct their own efforts to locate the parahuman responsible and I suspect they will not in any way subtle. Nevertheless, I will continue my investigation and take action when and if it is needed. End Recording."

Colin stretched and moved from grading papers to sorting through the reports that Hannah had sent to him. The usual tidy comments on the Wards team and a few notations about an investigation into a vigilante the Protectorate had been wanting to bring in.

He typed a few responses out for her on how to deal with what he had gleaned of the vigilante's powerset and began the process of setting his systems to comb through every piece of information he could on the students of Winslow. With that running, he stood and started toward the kitchen, curious to see if the stasis systems he had built years ago had kept the food within the refrigerator intact or not.

I really should look in on some of my older projects more often. He thought, eyeing the self-contained apparatus that had been one of his first projects. Colin's eyes drifted up and he felt color flee his features at the sight of a card held on the refrigerator by a magnet.

He stared at it for a moment, one hand starting to unfold it for reading before he let his hand fall.

"Right. Going out to eat," he said, stalking out of the kitchen. "Looking at my old projects can wait until later. Much later."

~~~~~~~~​

There were several issues with creating a costume, I found. Money, Materials and then Production. Fortunately, the first step was the gateway to the following steps. Unfortunately, though, it was something I did not have an abundance of.

Which is why I was now at a run down corner store perilously close to Merchants territory. It sold the scratch-off gambling cards that you could try and fail to win money at. A search through the list of such stores in Brockton Bay combined with brief uses of my power had yielded that this was the place to go. They wouldn't ask questions about my age and its dilapidated state meant that no one bothered to watch it closely, so I wasn't going to seem out of place.

Counting down in my head, I started forward just as a dishevelled old man emerged, clutching a crumpled paper bag to his chest. I slipped between the door before it closed and went straight to the counter. Three minutes later, and twenty dollars of my money lighter, I left. But the cards in my pack were going to easily make that back. Once scratched off, I would have the beginnings of a fund for the costume and getting new clothes in general. My wardrobe was in serious need of attention. What would Scott think to see me in some of those shapeless outfits?

My growling stomach reminded me that I had skipped breakfast. A quick count confirmed that I had something in the neighborhood of thirty dollars left, so I zipped along my backtrail to the bus stop and waited for it to arrive.

Thirty minutes and several stops later and I was approaching Fugly Bob's. They didn't have the best burgers, but they were always busy enough that I was just another face blending in with the crowd. Shortly after the locker incident, someone had leaked all the sordid details to the press. They had jumped all over it with a story about bullied teenagers. Winslow had been quick to make a statement that there was no evidence regarding who was responsible, but it did seem to have somewhat of a positive effect.

I let the waitress guide me to a small corner table as I thought about the school. Even with the new teacher and his apparent desire to come down hard on any sort of misconduct, it didn't change the behavior of the students. Emma and company still shaped perception of me to a degree that I wasn't comfortable with. Even more so now after the locker, I felt like everything was off a bit. Like how everyone saw me was wrong.

They should all be bowing in worship of me.

Emma's suspension had begun yesterday and I was grateful for her absence, even though I expected her to resume her campaign when she returned. She would have a whole week to plan something, after all. I didn't know what I was going to do, but the situation so far simply couldn't be allowed to continue. I wasn't going to continue being Emma's victim any longer and I would need to decide how I was going to respond.

"What it'll be?" the waitress asked, returning with a glass of clear soda. Usually, I had tea, but I wasn't feeling like that today.

"One Fugly Burger, no lettuce," I said. "And could I get curly instead of regular fries?"

"Sure thing, sweetie," she said, jotting down my order and departing. I fished out my notebook and opened it to the picture I had drawn in class, frowning at it. I had made several others since, including one that was even more impractical than the first, but nothing felt right beyond the first one.

Still, I couldn't ignore the thought that the first one was simply designed for someone much more developed than I was. Wishful thinking, I guess. I flipped to another page, where I had started on one that used the first as a basis. The logo needed to stay, even though I knew it might draw a connection back to the incident the day I was trapped in the locker. That could draw attention to me.

I closed the book after making a few changes. It hardly mattered at the moment. My powers weren't suited for combat, so what was I going to do? Foresee someone blowing my brains out? As it was, pushing more than a few minutes ahead produced headaches that limited how far I could push my sight before the pain surpassed my focus. I considered that issue as I sat there and the waitress brought my meal over to me before something new struck me.

Mr. Gladly had done as I told him.

I frowned as I thought of that. That was true. He had. It had felt like he was resisting, at first, but I was stronger, as was proper, and he had given in. Could I do that? Make people do what I wanted?

"Heh," I shook my head. It wasn't likely, but I would have to test that. How, I wasn't sure, but it was something I could look into later. For now, I wanted to enjoy my lunch, then I could go shopping for some clothing. I took a drink from my glass, then flipped the notebook open and made another note about that before putting it away so I could enjoy my burger.

~~~~~~~~​

A few of the cards had netted me enough cash to get started, and a bus trip later I was wandering through a clothing store at the central mall, making selections for the beginning of a new wardrobe. I held up a top and looked at it critically. This would go well with my eyes even if-

I frowned at it, my train of thought coming to a halt. Why was I picking this shirt out? The way the shirt scooped was for someone who had more of a chest than I did. It wouldn't have anywhere near the proper effect if I was wearing it. Irritated at my apparent daydreaming, I went through my choices and found that all of them were picked with that same style in mind.

"Damn," I muttered. "This is what I get for not paying attention. Maybe in a few years, I guess." I shoved them back onto their spots on the rack, retracing where I had got each one from flawlessly.

"Alright, let's try this again," I said as I began hunting through the racks again for choices that were better suited to my build. This proved to be harder than I expected, as everything I looked at seemed made for women with more up top than I had.

"Let me guess, nothing for your build?" a voice asked and I looked up from the rack I was surveying. A blonde was standing at the other side of the circular rack, waiting for a response. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place from where. Maybe one of Emma's cronies? No, she would have ignored or insulted me then.

"More or less," I replied warily, shrugging. "All of it is for women with more up top than I've got. Or more, well, anything." I pulled out a shirt that actually looked like it would be flattering, eyeing it with approval. Not a total waste, then.

"Good choice," she remarked, drawing my attention again. "The color will contrast with your hair… Oh! Here!" She turned around and then pulled a pair of jeans from a nearby rack. "These should match with it."

Who was this girl? I started to say something to discourage her, then glanced at the jeans she was holding out. Huh. They would go nicely with the top. I took them and nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

She waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Always happy to help someone with a good eye. What about this one as well?" A different shirt was held up and I give it a moment of contemplation before nodding.

"A bit darker than I like, but it should do," I tell her, then brighten. "Oh, here. You should try this." I take another look in her direction to confirm my guess as to her measurements and hold up a skirt from a nearby rack.

"Oh, that's a good one," she whistled appreciatively, then gave me a once over. "You've got a really good eye for this."

I shrug. "I'm making lucky guesses."

"No, no," she shook her head. "You really do have a good eye for fashion. I'm Vicky, by the way." She resumed her own searching, then glanced my way after a moment. I murmured a reply absently, finding a pair of skirts that I liked and holding them up to compare.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked. "Your name's Jean?"

"What?" I blinked at her. Where had she gotten that from? "No, my name's Taylor. It's nice to meet you, Vicky." I nodded in her direction and continued looking at the skirts, trying to decide which I wanted. Why not both?

She blinked as well, apparently expecting some other response from me. "The one on the left, I think."

"Are you sure?" I tilted my head. "It seems a bit short."

"Are you kidding?" Vicky countered. "If I'm not wrong, with your legs, it'll be amazing. Go try it on!" She glanced at it again, then selected a top. "And try this with it."

"Okay, okay," I said, letting her cajole me toward the dressing rooms. I looked around for a moment, but there was no one nearby. Probably not a setup from Emma then. Wouldn't put it past her to run the routine again where someone pretends to make friends with me. I ducked into the dressing area and changed quickly. I eyed the combination in the mirror inside the changing room for a moment. Vicky was right, they did go well together.

To my surprise, Vicky was still there when I emerged and she looked me up and down quickly. "Told you it would look good."

"I don't know," I began, biting my lip. If I did start wearing nicer things, wasn't that just going to give Emma and her flunkies more things to target?

"I do," she interrupted. "Just wearing those makes you seem like a different person than the lumpy sweater and jeans you had on before." She glanced down at my legs and looked thoughtful.

"We might need to find you some leggings, though. The skirt by itself in this weather wouldn't be the best idea." she said, looking around at the racks curiously. "This place doesn't have anything good for that, though. Oh, try these!" She pushed a pair of pants at me and I rolled my eyes before ducking back into the dressing room and changing again.

"Much better," Vicky said when I emerged. "Your legs won't turn blue now."

"Important things," I said, glancing at myself in the mirror a few times and eyeing how the pants fit.

"Exactly!" she said, almost pumping a fist in the air. "Good to know someone else gets it. I try and get my sister into better clothes, but she's usually being a stick in the mud. It was fun to have someone around who knows fashion as well as you do!"

"Thanks," I said. "It was nice." I blinked for a moment as I realized it really was. Being able to talk to someone without the issues that hung around where anyone from Winslow was involved. Whoever Vicky was, she didn't go to Winslow, I was certain of that.

"Well, we should do this again," she said, grinning. "My number's-"

"I don't have a cellphone," I said weakly.

"No problem!" Vicky said, producing a small notepad from a back pocket, along with a pen. She scribbled a couple of things down on it before tearing it free. "Here you go! I'm free most of the time. If I don't answer, though, just leave a message. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Got it," I said, stunned as she gave a wave and departed with her own choices plus what I had suggested to her. I looked around for a moment, then started to duck back into the changing room for my old clothes.

I paused halfway. No. I had a week without Emma and whatever she planned to do when she came back, I had to counter that. I was going to start with this. No more shapeless clothes that don't fit. I was going to feel good about myself no matter what Emma and her flunkies did.

If they did start up again when she came back, well, I would just have to show her I wasn't going to tolerate her vendetta anymore. I gathered my old clothes from the dressing room and draped them over one arm while the things I was going to buy covered the other. A few more things to get from some other stores still, then I could head home. Feeling oddly elated, I headed toward the register to pay for my new clothes.

"Could I trouble you for some scissors?" I asked as I sat my clothes on the counter. The clerk passed them over and I snipped the tags free from the things I was wearing and added those to the pile. The purchases depleted a good portion of the money I had made off the cards, but as long as I didn't go over a certain amount or turn them in too close together, I could likely abuse them indefinitely.

I would need to space the others out more. One of the things they undoubtedly looked for was patterns and taking care not to develop anything consistent would be a good idea. The cashier read off the total to me and I handed over payment before gathering my bags and my old clothes up. The old clothes were consigned to the first trash can I could find before I started toward the next shop on my list.

~~~~~~~~​

Dad was occupied in the kitchen and I was stretched out on the couch, idly making notes on my powers while the television was currently set to the news.

"And now, here's Michael Kelly with tonight's weather," the anchorwoman said, the camera feed shifting to a smiling man in his thirties.

"Lots of great news as far as our weather goes for Brockton Bay and the metro area," I muttered before he spoke, my power flashing ahead as I glanced toward the television.

"Predicting the weather now, Taylor?" My dad asked from behind the couch as he came in to hear what I had said and the weatherman repeat it verbatim.

"What? Oh, no. He opens with that when he's smiling, is all. He has like two opening lines that he cycles between. It's predictable, that's all." I reply, closing my notebook and stretch. "Dinner's ready?"

My dad closed his mouth, having been about to say something. "Yes, actually, I had been about to say that."

"You're getting predictable too," I grinned and stood up. "Or maybe I'm a seer, like the Oracle at Delphi. Shall I foresee dinner?" He laughed and headed back into the kitchen while I went to the dining table and began setting plates. A few minutes later and we were seated and enjoying a meal of lasagna and garlic bread.

"How's school going now?" he asked between bites.

"Looking up, I think," I said. "I don't have to deal with one of my problems for the next week and the new teacher seems to be pretty intolerant of bullying."

"You do seem in a better mood than usual. Meet anyone while you were out today?" he asked.

"Some girl named Vicky while I was at the mall," I replied absently between moments of enjoying the garlic bread. "She seemed nice and I got her number, so maybe we'll hang out again."

"It's good that you're making friends again," my dad said. "Does she go to Winslow?"

"No, or at least I've never seen her there if she does," I replied. "Maybe Arcadia? It didn't come up when we were talking." I made a mental note to use some money and get a cellphone. I know my dad didn't like them, but having one was a huge advantage.

"Could you take care of the dishes?" he asked when we were done. "I've got a couple of important meetings early tomorrow and need to turn in."

"Happy to," I answered and began to gather up the plates as he went upstairs. I filled one of the sinks with hot water and began submerging the plates and silverware. The leftovers were packed away then I went back to the sink and reached in to start.

The water rippled suddenly and splashed upward, soaking the front of my shirt and leaving suds clinging to me. Spluttering, I peered down at the water and brushed aside the suds, showing the point of a knife almost pressed against the skin of my wrist.

"Huh," I said, then shook my head. "Lucky I didn't cut myself." I fished the knife out and cleaned it, then rinsed and sat it aside to dry. I resumed working on the rest, my thoughts shifting to my powers. I had tried to set my telekinesis as a barrier around me but quickly realized the most obvious flaw.

Having spitballs stop bounce off an invisible field that surrounded me would be a pretty obvious indicator that I had powers. Thankfully, having my precog on throughout the day when at Winslow let me avoid most of the physical attempts and had been helpful in forestalling the verbal ones also. I would need to figure out a way to test it better. Maybe I could get a basketball and throw it at the wall in the basement really hard so it bounces back at me? Something to consider later.

I finished the dishes and drained the sink, rinsing away the suds and wiping down any surfaces where sauce or crumbs remained. A survey of the kitchen showed nothing else in need of attention and I flipped off the lights before heading back to the living room. There might be some television on that I could use as background noise while I worked on possible sketches of what would eventually be my costume.

My backpack still sat by the couch and I fished out some colored pencils and sat them to the side, flipping to that first picture from class. The pose was pretty simple, arms out to the sides and slightly swept upward. Nothing for features yet, but I selected a color from the pencil case and began filling in the sketch while watching the late show.

"My first guest tonight's new movie will be coming out next week," the host said, an elderly white-haired man. "Please give a warm welcome to John Stewart!"

A broad-shouldered man strode out onto the stage, greeting the host while I half-listened to their banter. I took my eyes from the screen, focusing more on the drawing as green started to fill in most of the torso, except for the emblem on the chest.

This had been after the shuttle crash.

I switched colors once I finished the collar of the outfit, starting on the symbol on the chest, then the sash, gloves and boots. Soon enough metallic gold dominated the lesser features, and I surveyed the finished product.

"Still a bit ostentatious," I mused, tilting the sketch left, then right. "And what would it even be made of? It doesn't look like it would offer any protection at all…" I glanced up toward the mostly featureless face, tapping my pencil on the edge of the paper.

"And where is the mask?" I said aloud. "My first impression was right, this is for someone who isn't worried about retaliation or a civilian identity at all."

I flipped to a blank page and retrieved a black pencil. Oh well, nothing I needed to worry about now. I wasn't planning to go out any time soon and I certainly wasn't going to do it wearing that. Another guest was introduced on the talk show and I briefly glanced up to see who it was before letting the pencil glide across the paper.

Commercials were running when I looked at the result of my drawing. This one had a mask that covered part of the face, but the rest was even more impractical than the first thing I had drawn. It was little more than a green summer dress with a belt just above the hips. The boots stopped below the knees, so they were at least less restricting than the boots of the first sketch, but they had heels. Gloves that reached to mid forearm completed the ensemble and I eyed it critically, my attention drifting back to the mask. It covered the upper half of the face, sure, but the eye holes were so large that it might as well have not.

"I guess with my shield, it might not be a bad idea," I mused, considering how little protection this offered.. "It can block bullets, at least." I stared at it for a moment more, then shook my head.

"No, this one isn't going to work, either," I filled in color for the dress, green again, with yellow for the boots, gloves and mask. A turn of the page and I started on another sketch while a third guest appeared on the show and they began talking about something inane.

I let the show turn to background noise again, contemplating the lines of the next sketch. This one seemed to have more armor, but lacked a mask. I eyed the blue and gold of this outfit critically. More of a one piece, like a bodysuit and some of sections were clearly armored.

"Better," I mused, eyeing the reinforced sections thoughtfully. At some point, for this one, I had decided that some armor helped against stabbings if someone got around my shield. Why hadn't I learned what a mask was yet, though?

"Ugh," I closed the sketchbook, yawning. "Doesn't matter anyway, not like I have any power I could really go out in costume with." Stretching, I returned the book to my backpack, switched off the television and headed toward my bedroom. Tomorrow, maybe I would look at it again. Now, though, it had been a long day.

My dreams were filled with stars.

---

Special thanks go to @Noxturne90 for his assistance!

 

[chibipoe]

1.5

A week without Emma.

I almost couldn't believe it. None of my efforts had yielded any results on that front since she turned on me, but within a week of his arrival, Professor Singer had disrupted their bullying of me. I didn't know why he had done it, but I had to take advantage of her absence. Which is why I was now positioned in front of my bathroom mirror, taking the time to twist my hair into a careful braid. I would still have to deal with Sophia and Madison, true, but Emma was a large part of their power, given her popularity.

One week wasn't nearly enough time, but it was a start. I finished the braid and gave the result a critical look, nodding in satisfaction. I needed to get it trimmed for split ends, but this would do for now. Humming, I went downstairs in search of my shoes. A few minutes later and I fished my jacket from the closet and pulled it on.

"Do you need a ride to school?" my dad asked, coming out of the kitchen.

"No, I thought I'd catch the bus,"I said, waving absently at him as I approached the door. "I'll see you after school. Bye, Dad!" I heard him say something as the door closed behind me but I was already moving so I pushed it out of my mind while on my way to the bus stop.

The bus ride to school gave me time to think, as the route took a roundabout path before passing near Winslow. There were a few other students on with me that I thought were part of one of the more popular groups at school, but they didn't harass me. I did, though, feel several curious looks directed my way as I sat there, turning my attention the harbor as our route overlooked it in several stretches.

I had a week without Emma, but I didn't doubt that Sophia would try and corner me during that time, laying the blame for her cohort's suspension at my feet. How I responded was going to set the tone for the rest of the week.

My expectation was that it would be violence since that seemed to be what I got from Sophia most of the time. She was likely to be in a rare form from stewing over the weekend. If anything, I bet she spent most of the time huddled with Madison and Emma, plotting over how they could get back at me. How to deal with Sophia was still dominating my thoughts when I stepped off the bus about a block away from Winslow and started toward the school.

By first period, though, I had begun to realize that I wasn't going to have near as much trouble with Sophia as I thought. She was entirely preoccupied with another issue that, truthfully, worried me a bit as well. There were a lot of students openly sporting gang colors and an undercurrent of tension hung in the air almost everywhere I went.

Parahuman Social Studies was were the tension broke, as it seemed to be the only class with a teacher who didn't look worried about the several students in blatant ABB or E88 colors staring death at each other as he or she tried to teach their subject. That was due, no doubt, to the fact that Professor Singer could be very intimidating in his own right, and no one displaying colors seemed willing to be act up when he was around.

Mrs. Knott's computer class was my second period and I took a different seat than the one in the back corner where I usually hid. I felt eyes on me as other students entered the classroom, but no one tried to displace me.

"You're Taylor, right?" the person to my right asked while Mrs. Knott was toward the back of the room, helping someone else.

"I am," I said, frowning a bit. Who was this? I couldn't recall if I had seen her in school before and I was drawing a blank on a name to match the face. Her hair was brown, framing a heart-shaped face and green eyes that were regarding me curiously.

"I'm Catherine," she said, holding out a hand which I tentatively shook. "Hope you don't mind me bothering you, but you are the first person whose name I knew."

"How-" I began, then rolled my eyes. "You saw some of those stupid news reports, didn't you?"

She nodded sheepishly. "I did. It made the rounds and I had to argue with my dad about being sent to a craphole where they would do something like that to a classmate."

"New here?" I asked, pushing thoughts of the locker and seizing on the other part of her statement. "I didn't think I'd seen you before."

"Yeah, dad's military and we had to move when he got reassigned," she said, typing a few lines of text on the computer before looking back to me. "Sorry about bringing that whole mess up again, bad memories or whatever."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It's done with."

"Well," Catherine said. "I sat down for comp-sci and I get an honest tv star as my seatmate, my day is looking up."

I felt my lips twitch slightly and I tilted a glare in her direction. "I'm hardly a tv star."

"You were on tv and people know your face," she said. "That's good enough."

I snorted. "If you say so." I finished off the day's assignment and opened an internet browser to keep busy.

Catherine glanced at the screen, blinking. "You're already done?"

I shrugged. "I usually have my work done quick for Mrs. Knott's class. As long as it's finished, you can spend the rest of the time as you see fit. Sometimes, I'll work on my own stuff, sometimes I'll just read up on current events."

"That's pretty cool," she said. "I'm pretty terrible with them beyond point and click. Any suggestions?" I glanced at her screen, running the requirements for today's assignment through my head.

"Well, for starters," I began, leaning over to point at one of the lines she had typed out. "You'll want to change that line. As it is right now, it'll just break everything else you want the program to do." I answered a few other questions she had, giving her a starting point that would keep her from having a completely terrible end result before settling back to focus on my own searches.

"Mind if I share a table with you at lunch?" Catherine asked a bit later. "Like I said, new here, so I have to start somewhere for making friends."

"I usually just find someplace to eat off by myself," I said, then frowned. No, I couldn't do that anymore. Things had to change and today was as good as any to start. "Actually, that sounds like a good idea."

"Really?" her expression lit up. "Thank you!" She fell silent other than a few comments here or there for the rest of class and I directed most of my attention to browsing the internet.

The rest of the day passed without incident. I could only assume that Sophia and Madison were keeping a low profile after Emma's suspension. It wouldn't last, but it was nice to have a day where I wasn't the target for their every petty slight.

My taking care with how I looked had apparently worked out as well, as other people had actually spoken to me throughout the day. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have a conversation at school with someone that didn't involve insults being thrown at me. It was actually kind of nice.

As I left school and headed toward the bus stop, however, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It wasn't the first time during the day, with all the eyes I had felt on me during the day. My powers never alerted me to any immediate danger, so I forced myself to not worry about it earlier. Now, though, I turned my thoughts to trying to figure out why.

I had changed my appearance by the simple virtue of caring about how I looked and I hadn't been gradual about it, so I was certain that was part of it, but the thought wouldn't go away that there was more to it.

The news.

I frowned at the thought, realization settling in. Catherine had mentioned those stupid news reports. There had been a few of them that tried to sensationalise the whole thing and link me to that incident with the firebird. Was the interest in me because of that? I tapped my foot against the concrete of the sidewalk as I considered that. That was a possibility and I should at least not rule it out, however unlikely I thought it.

The bus arrived and I hopped on, waving my student pass at the driver before heading for an unoccupied seat. I turned and sat, my eyes skimming the near-empty bus, thankful that I wasn't sharing the ride with anyone who would cause trouble. I dug into my backpack for a notebook and began writing, listing other uses I could put my precognition to. I could solve any financial issues we might be having by getting Dad to buy a lottery ticket with numbers I picked. I didn't know exactly what sort of scrutiny they put on winners to avoid parahumans cheating, though, so I would probably want to research that first before getting Dad to do that.

Dad.

Should I tell him that I had powers? I wasn't sure and the few times I had used my power to see what his reaction would be, I couldn't figure out what he was thinking before I hit the limit. There had usually been arguments and I'd decided against telling him for the moment, but it was a thought I kept coming back to.

Probably best to keep it a secret for now. I decided. Dad wouldn't understand, would try to convince me to be normal. Like I could do that. Emma's crusade against me had killed any chance of that, if there had ever been one.

The pencil tapped against the paper as I glanced out the window, watching what I thought might be the beginning of snow zip past as the bus slowed to make a turn. Had the weather called for snow when I looked last? I couldn't remember and Brockton Bay usually had pretty mild weather. I got off the bus when its route brought it close to a strip mall that had a cellphone provider's store.

Having one on hand was simply too useful and although it would deplete more of the funds I had picked up from the scratch-cards, I could afford the cost of at least a cheap one so that I had a way to call or be called. A few minutes of looking over my options and I left with a new rechargeable phone in my backpack, heading for home while wondering what dad was going to make for dinner.

~~~~~~~~​

The next time I think this sort of job is a good idea, I need to slap myself. Colin thought, checking his watch for what felt like the fiftieth time since classes ended. True to Blackwell's word, she had foisted the entire matter regarding Alan Barnes onto him. The man had all but demanded a meeting after school to discuss the matter of Emma's suspension being resolved and now he was late.

Colin was certain he knew why, the man was hoping to throw him off balance and control the flow of the discussion. Had he been meeting with him on grounds more favorable, such as the other's practice, he was sure that he would be sitting in a waiting room an inordinately long time.

He was, however, fully inured to dealing with such tactics and busied himself with looking over his notes that he had collected regarding the man. An accomplished divorce lawyer with a very successful career. The man was used to getting his own way, Colin was certain.

With a grimly satisfied smile, he moved to looking over some of today's assignments that had been turned in. Mr. Barnes might be used to getting his own way, but Colin would be more than happy to explain that would not be happening today.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Barnes arrived, with, of all things, his daughter in tow. Colin shifted his eyes in their direction, but didn't look up from grading papers otherwise.

"Just so you're aware, Mr. Barnes," he said. "Suspension means that Emma isn't allowed on school grounds for the duration of her punishment, so I'm afraid she'll need to leave the premises."

"That's what we're here to discuss," Mr. Barnes replied, his voice controlled. "The unfounded actions and unsubstantiated allegations you've made against my daughter."

He put his pen down and reached into a drawer that he had left open for just this purpose, withdrawing a folder and setting it to one of his desk. "This isn't a court of law, Mr. Barnes, and even if it were, we're not dealing with a divorce case, so you can spare the effort of trying to intimidate me in that fashion."

"I have spoken to Principal Blackwell and my daughter," he fired back. "You had no evidence sufficient for the actions taken against Emma. Taylor and Emma have known each other for years!"

"Have you paid attention to the news at all, Mr. Barnes?" Colin asked politely, his gaze drifting toward Emma, whose complexion started to pale as the question hung in the air.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded. "I recall some sort of report about Taylor, after that dreadful incident with the locker, but what does-" His face blanked and then a scowl developed. "Now see here, if you think I'm going to stand here and allow you to malign my daughter in this fashion by implying that she would be a party to something like-"

"You'll be happy to know that I conducted extensive research into that incident and what the situation here at Winslow was like," Colin interrupted. "I did wish to know what sort of environment I was entering into. Unfortunately, while Ms. Hebert had mentioned who she thought was responsible, by her own admission she was shoved forward, so she didn't have opportunity to see who was responsible."

Mr. Barnes seemed to relax. "You see, complete nonsense-"

"However," he went on as if the other man hadn't spoken, "the incident that precipitated your daughter's suspension had nothing to do with who did or didn't force her into the locker. It concerned another issue entirely. You've read the report on that matter, have you not?"

Alan Barnes frowned. "I spoke with my daughter and Principal Blackwell, but I've had several cases that have kept me busy over the weekend, so I hardly see how that matters."

"I happen to have the report I wrote and submitted to the office," Colin said. "A man in your profession has to appreciate the utility of having multiple copies of paperwork in case of misfiling, I am sure."

"I've been advised about this, as I said," the man replied. "What is your point, Mr. Singer?"

"Professor Singer, Mr. Barnes," Colin corrected, sliding the folder over so it sat between them, unopened. "My point is that you appear to have a misunderstanding of the events that led to your daughter's suspension."

"It was an argument between friends," he said, glancing from the folder to Emma, who was staring at it with a decidedly ill expression. "Isn't that right, Emma? Just a talk that got out of hand?"

She looked up to him, forcing a smile. "That's right. Taylor was just overreacting."

Colin didn't smile as Alan Barnes looked away from his daughter, a frown appearing. "Would you like to see precisely what your daughter was punished for? I recorded the conversation in its entirety, with notations regarding who was speaking when."

"Conversations are typically difficult to transcribe accurately from memory," was the answer.

"I'm an accredited Professor, Mr. Barnes," he said, allowing a snort. "Recalling a conversation that was growing increasingly hostile and culminated in your daughter physically striking her friend is child's play."

"I wasn't told about any assault," Mr. Barnes said, his frown deepening. He reached for the folder without another word, flipping it open to where the report of the incident lay on top. His expression darkened as he read and he looked up after he had reached the bottom of the page. Colin knew that there was nothing else to be read past that point. His neat handwriting had efficiently filled in the details without having to resort to more than one page.

"Your notations are quite thorough, Professor Singer," he said, setting the page down in the folder and closing it. "This is accurate?"

"Down to the last syllable," Colin confirmed, curious to see what the man would do now. "I have speculation on other, related issues, if you'd care to hear it, but I must be clear that it is just that, speculation lacking conclusive evidence."

Mr. Barnes shook his head. "No, but thank you. I'm sorry to have troubled you. If you'll excuse me, however, I need to go have a discussion with my daughter." The tight, restrained tone he said that in suggested it was not going to be a pleasant discussion.

"Dad?" Emma said, blinking at his tone before turning an ugly look toward Colin as her father guided her out of the room, speaking in low, angry tones. Colin brought up his laptop and typed a few messages and sent them on, before packing away his things. The day had been a long and stressful one and he still had work to do once he was home.

The first and most important, he thought as he headed toward the parking lot, was laying out a plan for discouraging the sudden increase in gang presence at Winslow. Both the E88 and ABB were openly displaying their colors and causing problems at the school. There did not appear to be any reason for such blatant action. It was a dilemma he had been pondering throughout the day, but short of intimidating one of them into talking, there wasn't a great deal he could do.

As it stood, he was almost completely certain that the gangs throwing their weight around were a symptom and not the real problem. What their real goal was something that he needed to unravel.

Placing his briefcase in the passenger seat, he closed the car door, grimacing at the feel of being surrounded on all sides. The car he was using as part of his cover was something he was still getting used to and even so, his motorcycle was something he would prefer. It was entirely his now, its parts upgraded or replaced to such a degree that no real trace of the original remained. Still, this car had some improvements he had done to it as well, so it wasn't entirely dissimilar from his motorcycle.

"System, call Dragon," he said as he backed out of the parking space and set out on the road. "Encryption method zeta."

"I'm here, Colin," Dragon said, so quickly that he almost smiled.

"Waiting for my call?" he asked lightly.

"I had a subroutine set to monitor and automatically patch you to me if you called," she replied. "I was coordinating extraction efforts with that earthquake out on the west coast."

"How bad?" he frowned toward the speaker before navigating into traffic, becoming just another person on their way home.

"Casualties are low at the moment," Dragon said. "The biggest issues will be in repair and restoration. Quite a lot of infrastructure damage to be addressed and given what we expect in the new few weeks…"

He grimaced. "I know. It would be just like them to hit someplace already reeling, Regarding that, have you had time to look over those notes I sent you?"

"I reviewed it and have made some code changes," she answered. "It will definitely be able to predict Behemoth and Leviathan by modeling data. I've started compiling a database for the algorithm to draw upon, based on previous attacks."

"You don't think it will be able to predict her, do you?" he said, his hands tightening on the wheel.

"With Leviathan and Behemoth, we have details that we can draw upon to track their movement," was the reply. "Seismic activity, weather anomalies. The Simurgh, however, doesn't afford us anything of that nature. She appears to just hang there in orbit until she starts moving, leaving us always a half-step behind as far as predicting where she will go."

Colin frowned. "Some warning is better than none."

"You didn't call me to work yourself into a frenzy over a prototype project, Colin," Dragon said, a chiding tone to her voice. "What is it?"

"I haven't made any conclusive headway on determining who the parahuman responsible for the pyrokinetic display is," he admitted. "Worse, a complication arose today. I've been expecting some sort of action from the gangs, but I was expecting a bit more subtlety than what I've encountered so far."

"Elaborate?" Dragon prompted.

"Today had a large number of students openly flying gang colors and causing trouble," he said, focusing on driving while he organized and recounted his thoughts "I've surmised that it was the start of some action on their part, but at no point that I was able to observe was our primary suspect, Taylor Hebert approached."

"Laying hands on the info about her scans from the hospital records likely wasn't particularly difficult," she pointed out. "It's possible they've already dismissed her as a suspect."

"Granted," he replied. "But remember that monitoring suite we were working on? I was able to retask a portion of into an observation program that I inserted into the hospital's network. If anyone accessed her records, it was keyed to send me an alert identifying details of the access. So far, there are only two recorded instances of the record being accessed. The first was during a routine survey by Medhall for a tracking assignment of antibiotics. Part of an inventory system, as near as I can tell. The other was during a standard internal review of all cases to make sure any notes placed on the hardcopy are also within the computer record."

Dragon was silent for a moment. "But without being there in person, you'd have no way to know who else might have been looking over their shoulder, or if they copied information down on paper."

He nodded absently. "Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time with their system to tailor it so that it could determine if an access was falsified or not, so I don't even know if those were legitimate accesses of the system."

"Leave that aside for now," she said. "You mentioned an increase in gang activity? Violence?"

"Nothing obvious," he murmured, "but they were skirting the line very carefully. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were doing it intentionally."

"Perhaps they were," Dragon mused. "You were devoting attention to them, correct? Were the other faculty focused on keeping them in line as well?" Colin eyed the trees lining the road his house was located on, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Shit," he said finally, realization sinking in. "That's exactly it. They're a distraction."

"To what end?" Dragon asked. "While the the faculty is occupied, what do they stand to gain by being so overtly disruptive?"

Colin took a deep breath, considering the question. "It distracts anyone who might be keeping an eye on our suspect, on Taylor Hebert, for one. But it also distracts the students who aren't members of either faction, keeping them more focused on possible harm if they draw attention, so they don't pay as much if…" He frowned for a moment, then nodded. "They're too focused on that and don't pay any mind to when they get asked questions about Taylor or other students."

"A sound theory," Dragon said lightly. "Is that all, though?"

He tilted his head as he pulled into his garage. "If this theory is true, then they're possessed of more subtlety than I gave them credit for. It's possible, then, that they've slipped someone in to get close to Taylor."

"I could look into the records to see if there are any new students," Dragon offered.

Colin shook his head. "A waste of time. There were several in the past week and it's just a theory as it stands. I'll keep a closer eye on Ms. Hebert, if possible and see if anyone is trying to ingratiate themselves with her."

"Bear in mind, Colin," Dragon murmured, "that new students could simply be looking for a friend in an unfamiliar location. Keep that in mind and don't persecute anyone."

He rolled his eyes. "No, I thought I would prowl the hallways in full gear demanding answers of every single student whether they are a good witch or a bad witch."

Dragon laughed. "You don't have the legs to play Glinda, Colin."

"You can't even see her legs in that horrible outfit," he snorted, pulling his phone from its cradle with one hand and his briefcase with the other. "I'll have you know that I… you know what, never mind. Thanks for the feedback, Dragon. I'll keep you posted on any developments when I send my reports. Could I trouble you…"

"I'm already preparing a summary of your conclusions and will forward it to Miss Militia," Dragon said. "Take care, Colin."

"You too," he murmured as the line disconnected. He tapped the control that began lowering the garage door and headed inside, mulling over the discussion with Dragon. If the theory was true, then he would need to develop some plans for dealing with as many possibilities as he could. Popping his neck, he headed for the kitchen to prepare for a long night.

~~~~~~~~​

Being able to go to classes and not worry about Emma, Madison, Sophia and their flunkies made the days at Winslow significantly more tolerable. Halfway through the week and I was actually able to talk to people without one of them popping up to ruin things. It let me take the time to actually look at the arrangement of students and what groups they fell into.

The gangs were probably the strongest faction, followed by the sports teams. There were a few others, like the computer geeks, but Winslow's lack of funding meant that there wasn't much support behind them and if they had any strength, it was outside of the school. Integrating myself with them wouldn't help when Emma returned.

One option I had considered was signing up for sports. I had taken to running in the mornings before school and enjoyed it, but Sophia was one of the star members of the track team and I doubt I would enjoy having to spend time around her, much less work with her on the track team. The gangs weren't an option I was willing to entertain and that left me with a dearth of options.

I could continue on by myself without falling into any particular group was one, or I could try and create my own group. The latter, however, would be problematic as the other groups would be unlikely to allow another group to spring up that could offer alternatives to them. The gangs in particular, as their strength was in others not having options.

And what if I was the only option? The thought brought a slight smile to my face. I could do that, couldn't I? Go from being the lowest rung to the top banana, socially. I nodded to myself. I could rule this school. It wouldn't even be particularly difficult. I took my fork and picked at the substance that I thought was supposed to be mashed potatoes, considering the pros and cons for that. The biggest obstacles I would need to immediately deal with would be Emma and Sophia. I had no illusions that they would try something as soon as her suspension was over.

Which meant I needed to strike first. Whatever power the two of them had, I needed to break it completely and utterly. Emma coming back to find that her attack dog had been defanged would be quite satisfying. The only question was how to deal with her in the few days I had remaining. I began running ideas through my head while picking at my lunch.

"Can I sit here?" a soft voice asked and I glanced up to see a girl with dark hair that had a streak of purple and features that were asian, but I couldn't begin to place from where.

"Sure, table's open," I said, waving at the empty seats all around me.

"Thank you," she answered and took one of the seats opposite where I sat. "I'm Yor-, ah sorry. Minako Yori. It's nice to meet you." She ducked her head slightly as she said that, looking nervous for a moment.

"Taylor Hebert," I replied, deciding that whatever these were on my tray, they weren't mashed potatoes. "New?"

She shook her head. "No. Well, sort of. I was away due to family issues and just returned, so I'm a bit behind." Minako peered at her own tray with a frown. "Those aren't mashed potatoes, are they?"

"I don't think they are," I agreed, eyeing hers with the same scrutiny as mine. They still didn't appear to be mashed potatoes for her either. "I haven't determined what sort of life-form they are, however."

"We are probably not meant to know," she said finally, looking up. "Do you suppose if it is another life-form, it's trying to communicate with us?"

"I'm not sure what message they would be trying to convey by appearing as almost liquefied potatoes," I observed, switching to the subpar meatloaf they usually served with the not mashed potatoes.

"Perhaps pretending to be harmless?" Minako suggested.

"That's possib-" My power alerting me to a situation. I leaned over slightly as if to check my backpack, avoiding a collision that would have shoved my arm into the food, ruining my sleeve. Sophia. I met her eyes and gave as close to a bored expression as I could, but said nothing. She glared for a moment, then snorted and walked away with her tray, looking equal parts disgusted and perplexed.

"Who… was that?" Minako asked hesitantly, glancing toward Sophia's retreating back then to me.

"A problem I have to deal with," I said with a growl. "She's had it in for me since I met her and I don't really know why. I honestly don't care at this point, either." Minako gave me a concerned look and exhaled slowly.

"She is unpleasant," she finally said. "It radiates around her." She shook her head, distaste clear.

I glanced her way. "Radiates?"

She ducked her head. "A figure of speech, but an honest one, no?"

"It is that," I said, slicing off some of the meatloaf and testing it. Yup. Still bland. Edible, but bland. "I would avoid her if I were you, though."

"Avoid who?" Catherine said, settling at the table opposite Minako. "Hey, Taylor. And you! You could have told me you were here today!"

The other girl bobbed her head in greeting, half-smiling. "Catherine."

"Now, who are we avoiding?" Catherine said.

"Oh, Minako was witness to Sophia Hess," I shrugged. "Nothing to worry about."

"Hess," Catherine frowned, then her eyes widened. "She's one of that bunch, isn't she?"

"Yes," I said with a shrug. "My problem, though, so I'll deal with it." Catherine exchanged a look with Minako and I got the sense that they knew each other as they seemed to hold an entire conversation in that one glance.

"What are you doing after school?" Catherine asked me.

"Home, probably," I shrugged. "Nothing else comes to mind." The two of them exchanged a glance again.

"Come hang out with us, then," Minako said. "We were thinking of a trip to the mall, maybe check out that new shop that opened?"

"The shoe store?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I don't usually go shoe shopping."

"You're not," Catherine said. "You're hanging out with us while we go wherever we want."

I bit my lip, considering the offer. Neither gave me any sense of dishonesty, but after the stunt Emma had come up with of getting someone to pretend to be my friend, I was wary. Still, I did have to start somewhere, right? Having friends as support was going to be crucial if I really wanted to go forward with my plans.

I exhaled slowly and then nodded. "That sounds like fun, actually." Both of them beamed and I felt the distrust of others lessen a bit. I would make friends and put an end to Emma's campaign of terror. I had to start somewhere and this was as good a place as any for that.

"Great!" Catherine said cheerfully. "Where's a good place for grabbing some food afterward?"

"Well, there's Fugly Bob's," I said as they quizzed me on places to eat, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to sit and talk in the cafeteria during lunch. "Burgers are good, but not great and they're not that expensive."

"Sushi?" Minako said and I frowned, thinking of a response as I racked my brain for where the sushi restaurants were.

"There's a couple of them downtown," I said. "And a good place in the mall, I hear…" The rest of the lunch period passed in a blur.

---

 

[chibipoe]

There was something wrong.

The thought came to her once again as she sat in one of the classes she shared with Hebert, watching as she exchanged words with a pair of new girls. Chatted with them amicably, comfortably.

It was wrong. Not just the difficulty finding opportunities for putting her in her place, but the entire environment. Students were talking to her, she was making friends, being more outgoing. Nothing like the wilting little flower that shied away from any social contact for fear of being burned. Or like a puppy that cringed whenever someone was near, thinking it would be kicked.

Emma had been suspended and the others given detention. She had avoided that by not being present, but had heard all about how the mouse had snapped at her from Emma. There were the moments where she had tried to remind Hebert of her place, only for the girl to avoid it by the narrowest of margins and then give her this look. Like she had seen it coming and the only reason she didn't retaliate was that she was bored.

It was wrong. And with Emma absent and the other girls quaking in fear thanks to detentions with that new teacher, who was military or something, she was sure. He tried hiding it with clothes, but the way he moved… it screamed do not cross to her, so she did her best to avoid him, which was harder than she thought. He seemed to be everywhere and she had narrowly avoided him catching trying to push Hebert around several times already.

No, there was something definitely wrong, she thought as she watched Taylor carrying on talking, eyeing the way she moved. Self-assured, confident. A complete reversal from the way she had been before. Was it because of the locker? She bit her lip, considering that possibility. Had the pathetic little mouse grown a spine because of that? Or something else?

Her mind flashed back to that incident, thinking of the panic that had filled her when she saw the PRT vans arriving at the school. Of the questioning all the students had gotten and the observation she knew was on her. Hebert had ratted, she was certain at first, but as days passed and no action was taken against her, she became unsure.

Taylor's attitude change came in the wake of that, as she was more outspoken and intolerant of their actions, of the teachers. Then that teacher arrived and it had only gotten worse. It was almost like she had become another person.

What if she had triggered and gained powers? The very idea made her want to snort. As if that worthless girl could ever do that. No. Something or someone was reinforcing her, giving her the idea that she was something more than a spineless victim. Sophia crushed her juice box and tossed it in the trash, stalking out of the cafeteria. Whatever the cause, she wasn't stupid. Something had changed and she needed more information before she took any sort of action.

Emma was still out and she hadn't heard from her since the weekend. Her dad had been planning to meet with the teacher, but she hadn't heard how that had gone yet.

I'll go by her place after school and see how she's doing, Sophia thought. They could work out a plan to deal with Taylor then. Whatever spine the mouse thought she was developing, they would break it. She glanced around, noting the students sporting Empire colors that gave her dirty looks.

Whatever they did would likely need to be soon. The way the gangs were carrying on wasn't something that the authorities would overlook for long and if there was more official attention, they wouldn't be able to do anything. She ignored the gang members and kept walking, heading down to a stairwell that saw little use. It was one of the places she liked to ambush Hebert at, since it went all the way to the roof and the mouse used to like hiding there for lunches..

Now, though, it served quite well for what she needed; a storage space. Looking upward, she
couldn't hear anyone in the stairwell so she ducked under the lower stairs, nudging aside the cover to an air duct. The dim light was a hindrance for a moment as she felt around, then her hand closed on the familiar shape of her crossbow.

Smuggling it in had been fairly easy, just showing up early under the pretense of track practice and she had been able to get it inside. After that, a quick trip through the school and she had been able to stash this here, along with some other things in case she ran into any trouble with the Empire. Slipping it into her backpack, with some books around it to conceal its shape, she left the stairwell, feeling substantially more secure than before.

Other than some glares, she didn't have any issues with the gang members through the rest of the day. She made a few attempts to rough Taylor up when there was no one around, but they ended the same way everything she had tried recently did, with Hebert looking bored and stepping out of the way flawlessly, like she had seen it coming.

The thought crossed her mind, again, that perhaps she had, that she had gained powers. But it was crushed just as ruthlessly. It couldn't be that. But why did the thought keep coming back? Sophia frowned as she left Winslow, angling off toward the bus stop that would take her near Emma's. The thought hit her as she waited, the realization of at least part of what was setting off her nerves with the change in Taylor's behavior and how she was evading everything Sophia tried.

Abnormal. That was what it was. Taylor hadn't even looked at her until after she had avoided being shoved or hit. Sophia had enough experience moving silently that she knew the other girl hadn't even known she was there. And she still avoided with uncanny ease. Sophia let a growl escape as she thought of how Hebert had looked at her.

Her fingers drummed on her knee as she thought about that. How dare that stupid little mouse look at her like that, like she thought she was better? She kicked the back of the empty seat in front of her, wishing she had someone to hit.

No. She had to be calm about this. Whatever the mouse was up to, this was probably part of it. Sophia took a deep breath, considering the last instance, trying to corner her in the stairs and how she had taken a step to the right just before her hand would have struck, leaving her grasping at air.

Like she had known it was coming. She wondered again whether Taylor had gotten some sort of powers as she reached up and tapped the signal for getting the driver to stop. She didn't think so, but Emma had known her longer. Maybe she could help her figure this out. Was this how she had acted before? The first time Sophia had met her had been outside Emma's house and there was no sign of the person she was seeing now that she recalled.

The walk the rest of the way to Emma's house passed unnoticed and she found herself knocking when the door was locked. Odd, but maybe Mr. Barnes was pissed over Emma being suspended. A moment passed, then another and she heard the door being unlatched and Mr. Barnes was there, looking exhausted and, for a moment, she thought, angry. But it was so fast that she wasn't sure

"Hi, Mr. Barnes," she said, waving a hand in greeting. "Can I come in? I wanted to talk to Emma about some stuff."

He didn't say anything for a long moment before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid Emma isn't feeling well at the moment, Sophia. She came down with yesterday and has spent most of today asleep. I don't know if it's contagious, but I trust you don't want to catch anything. You've got a track meet this weekend, don't you?"

She nodded slowly, frowning a bit. "I do. Well, let her know I came by and to call me when she's feeling better, okay?"

"I'll let her know," Mr. Barnes said, nodding before he closed the door. Sophia stood there for a moment and then grimaced, walking away. All the way out here for nothing. She kicked a rock along the sidewalk and glanced up toward Emma's window. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, showing no signs of her friend.

"Sick, is she?" Sophia said aloud, shoving her hands into her pockets and fishing out her personal phone. She tapped out a message and sent it off, waiting for a response as she kept walking. By the time she reached the bus stop and settled on the bench to wait, she was still waiting and she was about to put the phone away in disgust when it buzzed in her hand

She blinked in surprise, before she flipped it open again.

-Dad unhappy, got low-down from Singer, banned from everything, grounded.

Sophia stared at the message. Banned? Because of that teacher? What the hell did Singer say to her dad?

-What did he say?

-Had copy of everything said to Hebert, plus some other stuff. Didn't see all. g2g.

Shutting the screen off, Sophia climbed onto the bus as it arrived, seething. The teacher. Writing down everything they said? Because stupid Hebert hadn't had the sense to accept her place?

Her eyes narrowed and she almost swore. That was it. Hebert must have whined to him, convinced him to intercede with some sob story. Then he'd cracked down on Emma and fed the same line of nonsense to Mr. Barnes.

Her knuckles whitened from the pressure as she gripped the side of her chair. Hebert. It kept coming back to Hebert.

~~~~~~~~​

Detention, Madison Clements, thought, sucked.

Why did I ever think it was a good idea to hang out with those two? She finished the last of her homework assignments for the day. At least the detention hour was good for that, because otherwise she would be bored out of her mind.

The entire association with those two was supposed to be a good thing. Emma was popular, a model and Sophia the star of the track team. A bit rough around the edges, but Emma was smoothing those away. Associating with them let her steal some of the shine from the two of them without eclipsing them.

But the longer she had associated with them, the more she had wondered about this. Sure, she got the benefits of popularity, but the more she had gone along, the less satisfied she was with the whole arrangement.

Not that either of them noticed. If there was one thing she was good at it, it was presenting the face she wanted people to see. All Emma and Sophia saw was the girl all too willing to help them in their campaign of terror against Taylor Hebert.

And what a waste of time that was. It was like the two of them thought of nothing else but making her life miserable. What was even the point? She didn't know what the girl had done to offend them so, but it helped distance Madison Clements from other things, so she went along with it.

All minor, stupid things that looked more impressive than they really were. But they kept Taylor distracted by their sheer pettiness that she was often blindsided by the more severe actions of Emma and Sophia.

Now, however, Emma's efforts to torment Taylor had backfired. The new teacher had thrown everything on its head and with Sophia brooding, Madison had opportunity to simply observe how things had changed. The gangs were out in force, making a show of… something. Maybe related to that incident the day of the locker stunt.

That incident perplexed her. The most likely candidate for a parahuman awakening would have been Taylor, but other than an attitude change, she hadn't shown any sort of abilities that Madison had noticed. Her change of attitude wasn't the only thing. Her appearance too. She was wearing nice clothes, and looking comfortable in them.

It was odd. She wasn't carrying herself the way she had before. Most of the awkward, not comfortable in her own skin state she had carried before. Taylor Hebert moved like someone comfortable with her own body. Mostly.

Madison didn't think anyone else had noticed and she certainly wasn't going to tell them if they hadn't, but there were moments that she seemed awkward, as if she was expecting her reach to be different. It was just moments here or there. Reaching for a pen and fumbling it as if her fingers weren't the right proportions.

It was something Madison was familiar with, which made her wonder about Taylor Hebert. Whatever the case, Taylor's sudden shift in attitude had affected the dynamics among the school, when coupled with the Professor's crackdown. Taylor was already several steps beyond the school pariah, with new students socializing with her and displaying no fear of anyone.

Emma, Madison realized, was going to have a rude surprise when she returned from her suspension.

"Are you finished, Ms. Clements?" Professor Singer's voice rang out and she blinked, realizing that the other students sharing detention were gone.

"Yes, sir," she said, gathering her papers. "Everything is done and I have my homework finished."

"Good," he said. "You may go then. I'm sure your parents are waiting for you." Madison nodded, but didn't say anything as she left, merely glancing toward the Professor as he raised an arm and began cleaning off the board behind him. After a second, she shook her head and left.

Her parents were not, as Professor Singer thought, waiting for her. They were never waiting for her. Business and choice kept them away and other than a monthly stipend, she only heard from them if they were going to be in town and they needed her for dinner or a party. Otherwise, she was left to take care of herself with the money they sent.

Her phone buzzed as she walked out and she slipped it out of her jacket, eyeing the number displayed before sighing. A moment of concentration and she pushed answer.

"Yes?"

"You're late for patrol."

"I was held up. Couldn't be helped. I'll be on my way shortly."

"I'll meet you when you arrive." The line went dead and she rolled her eyes, making a beeline for her car. She had turned sixteen early in the year and was rewarded with a car from her parents. She loosened the knot of her scarf and tossed it into the passenger seat after she was in the driver's seat. The parking lot was mostly empty and so no one noticed or paid any attention as she leaned the seat back, pulling a blanket from the back over herself in case anyone did happen by.

A bit of effort and she tucked the clothes she had been wearing into a bag, switching into something more comfortable for what she was about to do. She preemptively flipped down the mirror, staring at her reflection as it changed.

It was automatic as she leaned down, gripping the lever to push the seat back so it would accommodate the extra space she was going to need. Habit drove her to tilt the steering wheel as well, her grip changing as she no longer had to worry about her fingernails getting in the way. One hand reached up to adjust the rear view mirror, meeting the reflection that was there, of a teenage male with a vaguely asian cast to his features where before there had been a petite blonde teenage girl.

Starting the car, he backed out and drove off, still pondering the school situation. If his reading was right, things were going to change and the new rising star didn't like Madison at all. But that was all right. Madison was used to becoming exactly what she needed to be to fit in. She had a lot of practice with that.

He parked his car on a floor in the parking complex that faced out toward the bay and finished changing into her uniform, knowing she was probably going to get reprimanded for being late, despite the reasons why. An amused smirk appeared on his face as he thought about that. The smirk quickly faded as she found her boss waiting for her on the transport over to the rig.

She snapped to attention, offering a salute as a gesture of respect. "Browbeat reporting for duty, ma'am!"

---

 

[chibipoe]

1.6

Wednesday Afternoon, third day of the week without Emma.

I stared at scribbled note at the top of the page. Was I really keeping time by how many days were left until I had to deal with Emma again?

"You look entirely too occupied with something," Minako said, drawing my attention to where she sat across the table from me.

"Just thinking about when I'll have to deal a problem again," I muttered.

"Oh, Emma, right?" Catherine asked, sitting down in her usual spot. When I blinked at her, she shrugged. "I asked around since I figured you didn't want to talk too much about it. She seems like a real class act. Grade A Bitch and all that."

"Catherine," Minako chided. "This is the library. Please refrain from being vulgar."

The brunette blinked. "You are giving me flak about language? This is a joke, right?"

"I'm certain I have no idea what you mean," Minako said.

I looked between them, certain this was another one of their private jokes that I didn't understand. I thought they had just met recently, but they seemed to have known each other much longer sometimes. "I have to agree. I can't imagine Minako swearing at anyone."

Catherine glared back and forth between us then snorted. "Both of you are ganging up on me."

"Nonsense," Minako said. "We are in agreement that I could not possibly use vulgar language, that is all."

"You're both impossible!" Catherine protested with a pout. I hid a smile as Minako said something else that got a rise from the other girl while I focused on my homework. I had been pushing hard to get caught up or if possible, ahead so that if they tried sabotaging my homework I would at least be able to save something, somewhere. Listening to them banter while I worked was nice, if still a bit odd.

Every now and then, I caught myself thinking I was going to wake up and things would be back to how they were before, days after days of torment. It was nice to have friends again and not have Emma spearheading efforts to ruin everything for me.

"..and that's why I think Taylor is actually a dinosaur." Catherine's words caught my attention and I blinked.

"Wait, what?" I asked and both of them began laughing. "No, seriously. Why am I a dinosaur?"

"A better question is why wouldn't you be a dinosaur? Personally, however, I feel you are more like a bird." Minako asked. "Our study period is nearly over, however."

"A bird," I said, grimacing. "It's because I've got legs like sticks, right?"

"Ignore Minako, she's being silly. You're a dinosaur because you've been studying so much that I'm surprised you aren't old and grey. You spend all your time in here. I bet your study notes have study notes now." Catherine announced, picking up one of my notebooks and beginning to open it.

"Not that one," I said quickly, snatching the notebook with my drawings from her. "That's… um, private."

"Oooh, this sounds interesting," Catherine grinned. "Taylor's private little journa-ow!" She grabbed the back of her head and looked at Minako, who was looking at her friend sternly.

"You should refrain from pestering Taylor about her private thoughts," Minako told her. "Her art is her own and she will share it when and if she knows."

"Art? You've looked at it?" I said, feeling my voice start to raise. How dare they-

She shook her head. "I have not. But I have seen you in class, drawing when you think no one is looking."

"Oh," I swallowed, holding the notebook close to my chest. "I, sorry, it is private. Maybe someday…"

Catherine grimaced. "No, it's cool. And seriously, sorry. I get ahead of myself sometimes. I'll behave."

I ducked my head. "Sorry."

"Do not apologize," Minako said. "Catherine will behave, as she said. We should head to classes, though."

"I was thinking we could head to the mall and hang out again?" I asked as we gathered our things. "The other day was fun." Catherine and Minako exchanged looks before nodding.

"We've got a few hours, so, sure," Catherine nodded."We'll have to bounce around six though."

I nodded. "That sounds good. I've got algebra, so I'll see you guys out front?"

"We will be there," Minako said and I left the library, heading to the nearest stairwell in a good mood. Hanging around them was fun. The door closed behind me as I entered the stairwell, latching with a click in the same moment a hand caught the collar of my shirt and I found myself slammed against the nearest wall, staring into a pair of angry eyes.

Sophia.

"Knew you couldn't be," she muttered. "Just a stupid girl who doesn't know her place."

"Let me go," I snarled, shoving at her hand. She was stronger than me, though and just pulled me forward and slammed back so I saw stars for a moment.

"You're going to tell her dad there's no problems and then you're going to not breath a word about anything we do, got it?" she snarled.

"You're crazy if you think I'm doing anything you want," I almost shouted, pulling on my power. If I twisted this way… Sophia stumbled back as I shoved, no longer held by her grip. "I am done with your crap, got it?"

She sneered, baring her teeth. "One thing you apparently haven't learned? I don't lose." She took a step forward and I fought to control my apprehension. Cornered in the stairwell like this, I didn't have much room to move and I'd already seen what would happen if I tried to match her strength. But I would be damned if I let her do whatever she wanted to me.

"You know," a voice said from my left, belonging to a familiar face as she stood on the stairs, with another beside her, "there's a benefit to losing."

"You get to learn from your mistakes," Minako finished, leveling the most hostile look I had ever seen at Sophia. "You would be best served by leaving now."

Sophia gave them ugly, if wary looks before turning to me. "You won't be able to hide behind them forever, Hebert." Then, she was through the door and gone. I stood there for a moment, letting my heartbeat settle before I adjusted my collar where Sophia had grabbed it.

"Thanks," I told them.

"Nah," Catherine waved a hand. "S'what friends do, right?"

I sighed. "Asking the wrong person for that." I had been in such a good mood I hadn't even seen Sophia coming. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Taylor," Minako said gently. "Are you hurt?"

"Oh, no," I said. "Just kicking myself for-, oh never mind. Late for algebra now, it looks like." The bell rang right after I said that and the two of them exchanged a glance.
"Eh, we're late too," Catherine said. "So, how about we just blow off last period?"

I blinked. "Won't we get caught?"

"Only if it's that hypervigilant guy from Social Studies, the Professor or whatever," Catherine shrugged. "He's got seniors this period and he's on the other end of the building, so we'll be gone before he could notice."

I thought about it for a moment. "Tempting, but I should go to class, late or not. I don't want to get behind again when I just got everything more or less caught up." And I didn't want to leave now, the idea felt like running after what just happened.

"We will meet you outside of your class then," Minako said, staring at me. "In case she thinks to try something again."

"You don't have to," I began.

"Correct, we do not have to," Minako said. "We want to." I stared at them both, oddly touched, then nodded and we started up the stairs together.

~~~~~~~~​

It was unusual, Colin thought, to be entering this building while not wearing his usual gear. Odd, he decided, and a bit uncomfortable. He had to shift his hands back a few times, when he noticed that he was reaching for devices he kept stored on his suit. Devices that were most definitely not to be found on one of the suits he wore for teaching.

He almost smiled as a thought occurred to him. Perhaps a micro-mesh suit with a spatial displacement function, that let him conceal items much larger than would normally fit in suit jacket or slacks pocket. There was even a bolt of a tinker produced fabric in one corner of his lab that might work as a starting point.

"Excuse me, sir, this isn-" he turned toward the speaker, one of the security officers at this particular checkpoint into the PRT headquarters. Lou was his name, he thought, as the man frowned and stared at him. "Oh, apologies, sir. If you'll just run your badge at the scanner for verification and we'll be set."

"Thanks, Lou," he replied, swiping the badge. "Is it Lou, right?"

"Louis, but Lou's fine," the man grinned, eyeing the results of the badge scan. "Everything's in order, so you're free to head in, sir."

"Have a good evening," Colin answered, fishing out a notepad and beginning to make some notations about the idea he had for later perusal. A few people threw him looks as he walked past the rows of desks, more than once he saw a frown directed at him before it was replaced by astonishment.

"Good to see you in, sir," one of the PRT officers said.

"Danica," he replied, inclining his head. "Headed to the meeting?"

"Oh, yes sir," she murmured, pushing her glasses up while trying to juggle the stack of papers she had. "I just came from compiling the latest reports on the independents as well as prospects for recruitment. The Empire, unfortunately, picked up a new telekinetic they're calling Rune. Wards-age, we think. She was involved in a three way altercation the other day."

"The other involved party, what and who were they?" he asked idly.

"Oh, a pair of independents," she said, flipping through her papers. "They've been harassing the Merchants with a fair degree of success. The reports from the thinkers peg them as possible Wards candidates. I think I have the file about them… Oh!"

Colin almost stepped back as her efforts at holding the assortment of folders and papers while trying to find one in particular resulted in the papers scattering onto the floor around them. Shaking his head, he knelt down to help gather them up.

"Oh, that isn't necessary, sir," she said, dropping down as well and beginning to gather papers. "You shouldn't have to clean up after my clumsiness."

"It's alright," he said, neatly gathering the papers up into a tidy stack. He glanced at the one on top, which had been what she was about to show him, he thought. "Hanabi and Rockshow? Odd mix of names."

"Oh, those two," she pursed her lips as they both stood. "They were approached by Triumph, but didn't seem interested. The ones that I meant are a couple. Or siblings of some sort. The thinkers weren't entirely sure, with the information we have. A Mover and the other has some sort of surveillance power, I think. I'm not sure what they had classified it as yet though. FreightTrain and Spyglass are their designations."

He frowned. "Sounds familiar, but I don't believe I've met them."

"I'll have more details in the meeting," she said. "I'll share then, if it's alright. No sense in repeating myself more than I have to."

"I can wait," he shrugged lightly. "Anything else of note to report?"

"In town can wait for the meeting," Danica said. "Outside of town, there's some reports about one of those roving thief groups. I think you ran into them once before? A tinker and some others."

He grimaced. "Yes, I remember those four. Irritating, but they're notoriously bad about escaping. They avoid confrontations and getting data for my prediction software is annoying when they will run instead of fight."

"Well, isn't it better though?" she asked. "I mean, not that they get away, but that they don't want to engage in property damaging fights?"

"The last thing we need are more smart villains," he paused then shook his head as he held the door to the meeting room open for her. "Though, come to think of it, I wonder about their intelligence sometimes. One of them is named Chubster, after all."

The room was more than half full as they entered, with the Director already there, looking haggard as she sorted through an array of papers before her.

She's having sleeping issues again. The thought crossed his mind as he surveyed everyone present. Probably a bad episode recently. Colin made a mental note to broach the subject in private, again, of getting Panacea to repair the damage to her kidneys. The last thing Brockton Bay needed was the Director retiring due to ill health and someone less experienced or less restrained taking her place.

"Hey, boss," Assault said, the mask of his costume down around his neck. "Gotta say, clean-shaven is a weird look for you."

"I left my beard at home," he replied without thinking, then sighed mentally. He was never going to hear that end of that. Assault, however, simply stared, speechless for a moment.

"Did.. did you just make a joke?" he asked in a small voice. "You did, didn't you?"

Colin sighed. "Blame it on being around teenagers most of the day."

"I'm scared," he said in a voice that was supposed to be a whisper, but was anything but. "Armsmaster's making jokes. We're all doomed."

"Stop being stupid," Battery said, punching his shoulder. "It's a good thing that he's unwinding a little. I mean, er… you do seem more relaxed, sir."

"Thank you," he nodded, noticing that the Director was staring at him. "If you two will excuse me?"

He didn't wait for either to reply, moving toward the head of the table and the seat beside the Director that was currently unoccupied. Hannah was in the one he usually sat in.

"Director," Colin said, nodding. "Hannah."

"Any developments on your investigation?" Emily Piggot asked.

"Unfortunately not," he grimaced. "Little progress and recent developments are creating obstacles that I have to navigate around."

"You're certain it isn't the Hebert girl, still?" she asked.

"I'm not certain of anything," he said. "I'm leaning away from her being the one, but I can't rule out that she can hide her abilities completely. From what I have gleaned, she's had some personality changes. More assertive and outgoing."

The Director shuffled her papers. "How much longer do you expect you'll need to continue this undercover operation, then?"

"The only stipulation is to provide notice if I have to depart," Colin told her. "Beyond that, I can end it shortly after we find answers. Any developments on Mr. Gladly's condition?"

"We did have a development there," Hannah said, fishing out a report and skimming down it with her eyes. "He remains mostly comatose, but those periods where he isn't, he appears stuck trying to leave and travel to another location."

"So we could be dealing with more than just a pyrokinetic," he mused. "The question is, whether it's the work of the one responsible for the display, or unrelated."

"Find out," Emily said. "I'm not exactly enthused about the prospect of us dealing with a High School with parahumans acting so openly when we know of only one. I don't need to tell you what sort of a situation we could be dealing with if the reason we haven't found anything is that someone got to the one responsible already and are covering their tracks."

"I'm aware, Director," Colin said. "The possibility is one I keep in mind, but I find it unlikely, given the gang presence. You know if one of them had secured this person, they'd be lording it over the others. An outside group, perhaps, but if so, why have we heard nothing? This isn't exactly a subtle power, judging from the display."

"Whatever the case, I want this solved," Emily stated. "Find him or her and do it soon."

"We're ready, Director," one of the aids said before Colin could respond. "Everyone's here." Colin fished his notebook back out as the door closed and began making notes on what the suit he had thought of earlier might need while the meeting officially began.

~~~~~~~~​

"We'll see you tomorrow!" Catherine waved as the pair departed, leaving me at the mall. I tapped my foot on the ground, considering what to do with the time I had left. I had already called dad and let him know, so I had another hour to myself before I needed to go home.

After a moment, I decided and turned on my heel, heading for the art supplies store. I wanted to do some more work on the sketches and maybe put some color on them, but I was out of some of the colors I wanted, so I would need to get some more.

"Taylor!" a voice called and I turned to see Vicky waving with her free arm, the other was tangled with the arm of a handsome teenage boy who just looked bemused.

"Vicky, hi!" I called, walking over while noticing that there were several people staring at Vicky like she was the most amazing thing they had ever seen. Her companion, presumably her boyfriend, leaned down a bit and whispered something to her and she rolled her eyes.

"Dean, this is Taylor," Vicky said, introducing us. "I met her last week."

"Nice to meet you," I murmured, shaking the hand that was offered. "Sorry I hadn't called. Just got a cell and with school work, I'd been busy."

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "What are you up to?"

"Was headed to the art store for some paint, actually," I said, as they fell into step with me. Dean was quiet, with a puzzled sort of frown on his face.

"You paint and have amazing fashion sense?" Vicky asked, smiling.

"Just in my spare time," I said. "What are you up to today?"

"Oh, just hanging out with Dean," she said airily. "I tried to get my sister to come along, but she didn't want to come along. I swear, sometimes I wish she should take some time for herself instead of, well, never mind. Mind if we tag along?"

"Fine by me," I said. "It's going to be pretty boring, though."

"The alternative is Vicky going clothes shopping again," Dean said, flashing a grin at his girlfriend. "I'd rather spare my wallet today, if it's all the same."

"Oh, pssh, I bet you'd change your tune if I went to try out the skirts," Vicky said. "You certainly didn't mind the last time."

"Guilty," Dean admitted. "But the art store does sound like a nice change of pace, however much I enjoy your modeling efforts."

I shifted my feet, somewhat uncomfortable with the byplay. They were obviously close and I didn't want to feel like a third wheel. "It's alright. It's just in for some red, green, and gold paint. Maybe some black too." I bit my lip as I spoke, pondering. I might want to check my other colors and see if something else would work as well.

"Ooh, I've got this," Vicky said. "I know where they keep the best red. Crimson fire, I think it's called."

That did sound good and I did need to make more friends than just Catherine and Minako. "Sure, if you really want to, I'd like that."

"Awesome!" Vicky proclaimed. "Oh, and we have to go check out the clothes. I saw a jacket after we met the other day that I think would be awesome on you."

"Oh?" I perked up as we walked. The other day when I was clothes shopping with Vicky had been nice and had proven that she had a good eye for fashion, so I didn't doubt her claim. "Let me grab what I need and then we can go check it out."

"And somehow, we end up going clothes shopping anyway," Dean said jokingly. "Try not to kill my wallet this time, please?"

"I won't be too hard on it," Vicky said, grinning. "Now, let me show Taylor where that color is and then we can head over and we'll show her the jacket."

"I've got to make a call, so I'll be out here," Dean said, holding up a cellphone. "Come find me when you're ready." Vicky nodded and followed me into the art store, where I quickly found the green and gold. I thought of my earlier impulse and picked up a tube of black as well.

"And here you go," Vicky said, bouncing into the aisle I was standing in, holding a black tube out. "Crimson Fire, as promised."

"Thanks," I said, looking at the strip of color that indicated what it was supposed to look like when dry. "This.. this is perfect. Thank you!"

Dean was waiting when we left the store, the paints tucked away in my backpack. Vicky ran up and kissed him, unconcerned about the public display.

"Everything okay, sweetie?" she asked.

"Yeah, just class project stuff. Boring stuff, really, I can tell you about it later, if you want." he said easily, though I thought he looked uncomfortable for a moment.

Vicky eyed him for a moment and then nodded. "I'll hold you to that. But! Right now, we're not boring Taylor with whatever nonsense Roy's pestering you about. Clothes?"

"Clothes, yes," Dean agreed quickly, obviously eager to change the subject. "You said you had a jacket you wanted to show Taylor, right?"

"Oh, yes!" Vicky said, turning to me as I raised an eyebrow. "It's black and yellow, but not so much that it would make you look like a bumblebee, more like a gold, really."

I tried imagining it in my head, feeling an image almost taking shape. "Show me?"

"Onward!" Vicky announced, all but dragging us in her wake toward the store this jacket was at. The store turned out to be a smaller shop tucked in one corner of the mall. It sold only coats and jackets and every one of them I laid eyes on was clearly well made.

"Let's see," Vicky murmured, sorting through racks. "Oh, I hope someone didn't buy it… Ah, here!" She fished out a black and gold jacket and held it up for me. I looked it over, looking from one side to the other critically.

"A bit more gold than I like, but…" I began.

"Oh, go try it on!" she said, pushing it into my hands. "There's a mirror in the changing area back there so you can see how it looks yourself."

"Alright, alright," I acquiesced, holding the jacket close and starting toward the back to try it on.

~~~~~~~~​

Vicky turned as soon as Taylor was out of earshot and tugged Dean toward a corner, wrapping around him and looking for all the world like she was kissing him. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"

"You know I can't talk about that with you, Vicky," Dean protested. "If you would join the Wards…"

"Nuh-uh," she said. "You know I won't do that. Now spill. You've been looking distracted since… is this about Taylor?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Maybe. She's the girl they pulled out of the locker last month, you know, when that bird showed up?"

"That's her?" Vicky hissed. "And, what, they think she did it? That's absurd. She's nice and hardly the type to go setting the sky on fire."

He shook his head. "I don't know too much, but I'm pretty sure they don't. Tests came back negative is the rumor. But... "

"What?" she asked. "Come on, tell me…" She pressed closer to him, giving him her most winsome smile.

"Ah, jeez, you're relentless," he groaned. "They tested her and she came back negative, like I said. But… when she's standing there, I'm not picking anything up. At all. It's like she's not even there."

"You've had people resistant to your abilities before," she said, grinning. "Take me, for example."

"To the overt part, yes," he said in a low voice. "But I haven't met anyone I can't get at least a feel for their mood from. She didn't even notice when your aura was on earlier."

"You're sure? Not just missing her with all the people around?" Vicky pressed.

"I haven't had that problem in a while, Vick," he said. "I haven't met anyone I don't get a read from unless something's interfering. Even then, there's usually something. This is more like a complete blank space where she's standing. I can follow physical cues, but she's not giving anything at all for me to pick up. It's like bouncing off a brick wall."

"Huh," she bit her lip. "Well, I think you're probably overreacting. I'll keep an eye on her though, but I don't like spying on friends, even new ones." She reluctantly disengaged and adjusted her clothing quickly in case anything was out of sorts, turning to see Taylor emerging from the changing area, looking pensive as she adjusted the jacket that she was still wearing, holding her backpack and the coat she had come in wearing in one hand.

"Well, how is it?" Vicky asked, grinning brightly.

"It is awesome, like you said," Taylor murmured before frowning. "But way outside my budget. Maybe some other time…"

"How much are you short?" Vicky asked, glancing toward Dean, who rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I'll have enough in a few days, and I can come back," she shrugged, slipping her arms free easily. "It's no big deal."

"Nope, it's perfect, like I said, and you are walking out of here with it," she pronounced, deftly snatching the jacket and passing it to Dean. "Consider it a birthday present."

"My birthday isn't until summer," Taylor said.

"A very early birthday present then," Vicky corrected. "Honey, if you would?"

"Fine, fine," he shook his head, looking exasperated but started toward the cashier. "It's just easier to go along when she gets like this."

Taylor blinked, looking unsure. "Why? You both barely know me and that jacket's really expensive."

"Lots of reasons," Dean said easily. "I haven't known you for more than an hour, sure, but I'd like to think I'm a good judge of character and I have more money than I could spend in both our lifetimes. Plus, it makes Vicky happy."

"And I'm encouraging it because your current jacket is all wrong for the clothes you were looking at the other day. You need something stylish, assertive for those." Vicky added, slinging an arm around Taylor's shoulder. "Also, call it an early birthday or a late christmas, whatever. I like doing nice things for my friends."

"You mean you like having me do nice things for your friends," Dean corrected, handing over a black card to the cashier along with his identification.

Taylor shook her head at the byplay between the two of them. "Thank you."

Dean started to say something but his phone buzzed and he grimaced. "You're welcome, Taylor. I'd stick around, but this is probably important so I'll need to go take care of it."

"Class project again?" Vicky asked, looking bemused.

"Roy's a pain," Dean shrugged. "I'll be happy when he graduates."

"Hate to buy you a present and run, but I should probably go help him," Vicky said. "They'll get cleared up faster with another pair of hands."

Taylor hesitantly took the jacket after the security tag was removed. "I… is it something I can help with?"

They exchanged a look and Vicky shook her head. "Roy's a stickler for rules. I squeeze in by virtue of being Dean's girl, but he is very picky about not letting anyone who isn't on the project help otherwise."

"Well, good luck then," Taylor said, clutching the jacket to her chest as they waved and left the store. Bemused, she tucked her old jacket into her backpack and pulled the new one one in its place.

~~~~~~~~​

I left the mall in a daze, expecting that someone would stop me at any moment and I'd be arrested and the whole thing that had just happened was nothing more than a prank. By the time I made it outside and there was no one arresting me, it sunk in that this had really happened.

People I barely knew had dropped several hundred dollars on an expensive jacket as a gift. Who even does that? I didn't know what to think. I took a deep breath and pushed it to the back of my mind. I would need to think of something nice to do in return. I sent off a quick text message to Vicky and then checked how my funds looked.

I should probably cash in a few more cards. I bit my lip, thinking. There was a corner store near here that I could turn a few in at. I had some stuck in a binder in my pack. Would the store let me though? I stopped by a bench and made a show of looking at my cellphone while I used my precog to trace ahead and see.

A few minutes later and a headache had me nodding. I would get in and out of the store with no problems. Decision made, I cancelled my precog to let the headache fade. The store was about five minutes away and there was a bus route near it that I could catch to head home after that.

True to my prediction, I was in and out with my new funds tucked safely away in my backpack and headed toward the stop for the bus route. My eyes drifted down to the sleeve of the jacket and I smiled a bit. Even if their gifting it to me was odd, it was a nice coat.

Checking the display on my phone, I almost swore, before turning to look at the schedule pasted on the side of the rain shelter set up at the pick up spot.

"Not running after five on this route?" I read aloud, shoving the phone into my pocket. Back to the mall, then I could call dad to have him come pick me up. I wrapped my arms around my self as a gust of cold wind breezed through. The weird weather had been off and on, odd for this time of year. We almost never saw snow and a few dustings had already hit in the past week, with the weathermen promising more.

The parking lot of the mall stretched out in front of me and I cut across it rather than following the road. It was faster to the closest side entrance that way. Several of the overhead lights were out, casting large sections of the parking lot in darkness that made me frown for a moment before I kept moving.

The only warning I had was the rush of footsteps as I was surrounded on both sides, hands grabbing my arms and another hand that smelled of sweat and something foul that I couldn't put name to clamped on my jaw.

"Not a word, hear?" a gruff voice said, shaking my head so hard that vision spun and my glasses fell to the ground with a clatter. A second later, as I tried to make sense of the man's features, I heard the crunch of the frames breaking as the two men dragged me off. I twisted my arms, panic seizing me as I tried to get free.

"Stoppit right now," the man who had first spoken said. I felt him let my arm go, but the other simply used his free hand and wrenched my right arm in a hold that drew a pained sound from me. I kicked my legs, shouting against his hand and I saw his blurred features twist in fury.

The next thing I felt was a weight slamming into my stomach, driving the air from my lungs and almost bending me double from the impact. Pain filled every sense and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shove away from the two men and curl up at the same time. They resumed dragging me out of sight and seconds later I found myself shoved against a dumpster and a wall.

"Please," I choked out, drawing in air while clutching my arms around my midsection. "I don't…"

They ignored me and advanced, one pinning me while the other ripped my backpack away. I tried to grab it back, but the larger one shoved me back while his friend retreated, roughly tearing the zipper open and beginning to toss things out. My notebooks were strewn across the ground carelessly, pages crumpling as they landed oddly. The bag with the paints was torn open and then the tubes cast aside after a moment's examination, followed by my old coat.

Then the folder I had stashed the money in was opened. "Lookee here, Jake. Girlie's got cash, like he said. Must be a grand here, easy."

Money? This was about money? And he said? What did that mean… I coughed as I realized the clerk must have called these guys on me. I had only looked to see if I would get in and out of the store without any difficulty. Stupid!

"Jacket, girlie," the larger one said. "Take it off."

"It's cold," I said, my hands gripping the fabric defensively.

"Don't care," he snapped. "And I wasn't asking. Take it off! It'll sell well, a nice coat like that."

"Hey, Jake," the smaller one said. "Got a better idea. She got this money from playing the cards, Ralph said. Had like five of them and all for high dollars. We make her do that again, if she can. Easy money."

"I dunno, man," he said, staring at me in a way I didn't think I liked. "Think this girl's trouble. Should just take her shit and go."

"No, it'll definitely be easy," the smaller guy said, his eyes drifting to me in a way I definitely didn't like. "We get some of the good stuff from Skids and she'll do whatever we say for a fix."

Skids? I felt the color bleed from my face as I realized who he meant. Skidmark. The leader of the Merchants. Which meant the good stuff was probably… drugs. I shook my head in denial.

"Girlie doesn't like that," the one called Jake said. "What the hell? Let's do it."

"No," I said, feeling cold seep into my bones suddenly, even as I clutched my arms tighter. I wasn't going to be their drugged up plaything! They should fear me.

It was like a switch being thrown. One moment, I was backing further into the corner, hoping it would hide me from Jake's approaching grip. The next, he was pale-faced, backing away as if the most terrifying thing he had ever seen was in front of him.

"Shit, Jake, what's wrong?" his companion asked and I swivelled my head to look at him. The air rippled between us and he went pale as well, dropping the folder and the money he had been taking from it.

"Gods…" the man whispered, scrambling backwards. "I didn't mean it! Honest! Don't… " Both men had more or less collapsed in seconds, whimpering and retreating. I looked between them, frowning at their sudden change in demeanor. I moved forward and they both backed away. Backed away from me. Was I doing this somehow? I focused on Jake, who had been the one to hit me and I watched whatever traces of color remained in his face flee.

"Please, please, oh god, dad, don't," Jake was babbling, clearly not seeing me any longer, but something else that terrified him. I took another step forward and found myself floating. The other man was still staring at me with eyes nearly completely white and I snarled at him, seeing the air distort between us again. Both men shuddered and went limp and the acrid stench that suddenly filled the air made me wrinkle my nose.

My feet struck pavement then, jarring me slightly. I seized a lungful of air and knelt, quickly gathering up all of my things. I threw a cautious look at the two men who had been terrorizing me just moments before. Neither was moving, but I could see their chests shifting slightly, indicating that they were breathing. I pulled my backpack up, clutching it to my chest and ran from there as fast as I could.

 

[chibipoe]

1.7

Thursday.

I stared at my stomach in the mirror, eyeing the nasty looking bruise there with a frown. It still ached, but It wasn't slowing me down too much and I didn't think anything was broken or cracked. I still couldn't help but hiss a little as muscles protested the poking and prodding, before I let my shirt drop and stared blearily at the mirror. I had to squint at small things and I frowned, looking around for my glasses.

Oh, right. They were crushed to bits in the mall parking lot. I grimaced. I would have to go get some replacements. Oh well, I was due for a check-up anyway if my memory was right. Leaving the bathroom, I went for my room to get the rest of my things. My backpack had been torn enough that I didn't want to use it for school. Thankfully, I had an old messenger bag that was a bit worn, but still functional.

Going downstairs was only possible from having taken those stairs so many times. I waved absently at my dad, who was assembling his lunch.

"Do you need me to take you by the optometrist after school?" he asked, looking in my direction as I entered the kitchen.

"I haven't made an appointment yet," I said, grabbing and orange and starting to peel it. "Still kicking myself for putting them down."

"Don't do that," he murmured. "Blame whoever made off with them."

"I was thinking," I began while peeling away the last of the orange's skin, "that I might try contacts instead of glasses."

My dad looked up, tilting his head in that manner that I knew meant he was thinking about it. "That's not a bad idea. Make the appointment and we'll see what prices look like."

"That'd be nice," I said, peering at the clock while chucking the last piece of orange into my mouth. "I need to go catch the bus. I'll see you after school!"

"Have a good day, Taylor!" my dad called out as I left, blinking as the early morning sun made me wince slightly. A whole day without my glasses. I would be lucky if I didn't have a headache after first period.

I reached the stop for the bus and there were a few other people waiting. I nodded to them, then leaned against the plexiglass that made up the rain cover, checking my watch for when the bus would pass by.

The bus still had five minutes and I put my arm down, wincing as I heard something that almost felt like static. It was like sound, but not, a scratchy, uneven sensation, springing to life close to me. I twitched a bit and stepped away from the plexiglass, glancing toward the others standing around, but no one was holding anything that could have produced the sound that wasn't.

"Weird," I muttered to myself, earning a couple of odd looks from the people close enough to hear me apparently talking to myself.

The bus arrived and I found an empty seat quickly, closing my eyes so I could relax for a moment as I leaned against the glass. Even with the noise and vibration of the engine as it rolled through town, I almost missed my stop by nearly dozing off.

There weren't many students present yet, but the gang colors while fewer were still prominent enough that you couldn't miss them. Whatever their point had been for coming out so openly, I guessed they had accomplished it. I didn't normally go to the cafeteria for breakfast, but I was still strangely hungry so I made that my first destination since I had arrived earlier than I expected to.

Two sausage biscuits later and I felt a little better, but the sound I had heard before the bus arrived had come back, if fainter than it had been, pulses of sound that had me fighting the urge to turn around and look for the source.

I forced myself to ignore the sound, drinking the container of orange juice when it abruptly stopped and I heard something that almost made sense. I turned and saw Madison approaching. When our eyes met, she stopped and looked hesitant for a moment, then simply nodded before walking past without doing or saying anything to me.

"What… just happened?" I said aloud, frowning slightly. Usually, Madison was always ready with an insult or something petty like spitballs aimed at me. She never just nodded and went on. I scanned the cafeteria quickly, in case her out of the ordinary behavior was a distraction, but no one was approaching to play some prank on me.

I turned back toward where Madison was in line, still frowning. The sound returned for a moment and I could almost make sense of it. Madison's behavior had changed for some reason. But why? Was it something I had done?

I grabbed my trash and headed for the exit, thinking of last night. Those men had been afraid of me and it was something I had made happen. Was her nodding to me something I had done as well? I left the cafeteria as quickly as I could, wincing when the sound returned as I navigated down the hall. What was causing it?

I found an empty classroom and leaned against the wall, trying to clear my head, to think. Last night, I had done something to those muggers. Was this related? Cold certainty trickled down my neck as realization. It was. It had to be. I had some other powers aside from the precog and shield? I fished in my bag and took out a notebook, putting it on the desk with my back to the door so no one could see.

I hadn't thought about it last night, or this morning, but maybe… I stared at the notebook, holding my hand above it and focusing on the feeling from last night. The notebook shifted slightly, so little movement that I thought I might have imagined it when, unsteadily, uneven, it began to rise toward my hand.

An almost giddy laugh escaped as I stared at the notebook, feeling it move in response to my thoughts. There was no sense of weight, but there was… I didn't know how to describe it. A sense of pressure. What I was doing took some effort and I thought there was, for a moment, the faintest hints of blue surrounding the notebook.

I wanted to shout out loud in excitement. I had something tangible. Not just being able to see the future, but telekinesis. I could move things with my mind. I let a smile creep onto my face as I stared at the rotating notebook.

The door opened abruptly behind me and I gasped, my concentration lapsing. The notebook fell like a puppet with it's strings cut and I made a grab for it, but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor.

"You're in early," the teacher's aide said, obviously recognizing me even I couldn't put a name to her face. "Sorry if I startled you, just dropping some things off for the Professor." She deposited a folder on his desk and raised an eyebrow as I scrambled to pick up my notebook and smooth any pages out.

"It's ok," I said, barely able to calm my racing heart. Between her coming in and what I had figured out… "I was just surprised, is all." I tucked the notebook back into my bag before heading toward my seat. Professor Singer's class was my first one of the day and I should have paid more attention to which room I went in. I could have been moving things and had him walk in.

The man barely made a sound when he was moving around the room during class. There were rumors floating around that he had been some sort of military officer after the way he had cowed some of the gang members. I wasn't sure about that, but the few times I watched him out of the corner of my eye, it was like watching some great big predatory animal prowling around. A well-muscled, predatory animal that happened to resemble a man.

I flushed, shaking my head and got my sketchbook out to distract myself from stupid thoughts. I had other things to worry about, like the blank page in front of me. I tapped the pencil on the edge of the paper, biting my lip thoughtfully. The sketches I had made so far, none of them felt right. I needed something different. Something that was me now and not hideously impractical.

My eyes fell on my sleeve, the gold bands contrasting with the black prompting me to smile a bit. It really was a nice jacket and I needed to think of a way to repay Vicki and Dean. Well, mostly Dean. But I didn't have the slightest idea where to start, since he clearly had nearly everything he could want, if he thought nothing of spending that much money on someone he barely knew.

The pencil started moving across the paper as I watched people filter into the room slowly. The bursts of noise had returned and I felt a distinctly uncomfortable sensation in my stomach that told me I was likely going to have some other problems soon. I kept drawing though, letting the pen move freely to distract me from both the noise and other issues. Hopefully, I could get through today without feeling too bad.

~~~~~~~~​

The class room was mostly full as Colin walked in, his briefcase and a satchel in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. He waved absently to the class and sat his belongings down, scanning the room quickly to determine that everyone was present. Seeing that everyone that was supposed to be there was in attendance, he crossed to the front of his desk and leaned against it.

"Today, I believe we're going to spend the class discussing instead of just giving you an assignment," he said, looking them over. "We've covered a great deal in the few weeks I've been here, but I want to go in a different direction today. Instead of discussing and parroting what we read in a book, I want your opinions."

When he saw he had their attention, even those students who were normally disruptive, he pushed away from the desk, pacing across the front of the room. "Put simply, I'm sure it's something we take for granted now, almost thirty years since the appearance of Scion. None of you are old enough to know a world where we didn't have parahumans. That is the world we live in, however, so I want to know your thoughts on that. How do you feel knowing that you live in a city where you could become a casualty of a fight between capes simply because they got out of control?"

"We have the Protectorate and the Wards! They wouldn't let something like that happen." one of the students in the back yelled. He let the faintest of smiles appear as he focused on the speaker.

"As much as I believe in the Protectorate and their younger counterparts, Eric," he said, "I'm aware of the fact that they cannot be everywhere all the time. For instance, last week, at Cornell University, a student obtained powers and used them to threaten and harm many of her classmates and instructors."

"The circumstances under which she obtained those abilities are, at present, being withheld from the public, but what I do know is she constructed several bombs that she threatened the university with, as well as inflicting injury and death on many there." he finished. "Without powers, would the damage she inflicted be anywhere near as severe?"

He scanned the room, looking at the students there, nodding as a blonde raised her hand. "Yes, Jerrica?"

The girl dropped her hand, tugging on one of her star shaped earrings in a nervous gesture. "Are you saying we shouldn't place our trust in them?"

"Of course he isn't," the first boy said, sneering. "Are you stupid?"

"That will do, Mr. Raymond," Colin said sharply. "There are better ways to express your disagreement with another. That will be detention this afternoon with me." He turned his attention back to the girl.

"What I am saying is I want all of you to consider the effect parahumans have had on our society. We all have choices to make as we go through life and consider this, no one's choices are less important than another's, but you choose to turn left at an intersection instead of right. How does that affect you and everyone around you? As much as I am loathe to consider anyone else's choices less important, there is a question of scale."

"What do you mean, Professor?" another blonde asked, looking at him. He eyed the girl and her blonde bob cut, searching his memory quickly for her name while considering how to answer.

"Well, Meg," he said, "Consider. You have two people. One is an ordinary person like you and I and the other has powers. We'll say the other has the power to build things. Perhaps they develop technology similar to that old show, The Six Million Dollar Man, and are able to safely implant it in a person."

"Bionics, you mean?" Meg asked, shifting in her seat slightly. The reference made her uncomfortable for some reason. Colin made a mental note to look into that later.

"Exactly," he replied. "Now, our bionics tinker takes a random person off the street and tests his or her work, making that random person many times stronger and faster than most anyone they encounter. Perhaps they have shoulder-mounted sonic weapons, or hidden wrist lasers."

"Unfortunately, our tinker hasn't done any sort of research into the person he is giving these abilities to," Colin went on. "The person he performs his work on decides that he is going to rob a bank, because he has power now. With his enhancements, he is stronger and faster than anyone he faces. Several people are hurt because the man has no regard for anyone's safety and believes himself invincible."

"So, we have two choices that have affected many people's lives," Colin said. "The tinker, for just deciding to pursue his research and change someone without thinking of any potential consequences, created a situation where another person chose to hurt many people solely for his own benefit." He paused, looking over the room and saw he had everyone's attention, even, apparently, Taylor Hebert's, though her pencil was still moving across the notepad she had on her desk. Drawing again, he assumed, frowning internally as she wasn't giving any apparent regard for what was on the paper.

"Meanwhile, we have our person who has no powers," he continued. "He has a wife who is very ill and needs medical treatment. Their insurance won't provide for it, claiming it as a pre-existing condition and outside their coverage. The company he works for is suffering a decline due to heavy competition and he has no one he can call on to help him. Desperate, he elects to rob a bank as well because he needs the money to help his wife."

"But won't that just get him into trouble?" another student asked, a broad-shouldered member of Winslow's football team. "He'll be a criminal."

"You'll find, Jonathan," he told the young man, "that people in desperate circumstances are willing to do a lot that they wouldn't normally consider. In this case, he is willing to do this because he doesn't see any other options. Even so, he plans everything out meticulously, trying to account for every possibility.

"Why does he do that?" was the reply. "To avoid hurting anyone?"

"An excellent hypothesis, Mr. Quick," he said, leaning to one side of his desk and making a note on one of his notepads. "One that is more or less correct, as well. Our beleaguered family man is an engineer by trade and accustomed to thinking of unorthodox solutions. He can't account for every possibility, admittedly, as that would be largely impossible, but he is thorough enough that his preparations allow him to perform the robbery without hurting anyone."

"He thinks he didn't hurt anyone," a brown haired, lanky teen said from the back row, looking bored. "But what about the money he stole? The people who were terrorized while he was robbing the bank?"

"Well, by his view, no one was hurt, Kevin. You see, he was considering only physical hurt. Anyone that was healthy when he entered was still healthy when he left. Abstracts weren't entering into his mind at all when he decided to do this." Colin explained. "Which brings me to the point, at last. Choice. Our choices define who we are, as I said. However, as much as I am loathe to consider one person's choices greater than any other's, a parahuman's choices do tend to have significantly more impact than those of someone who isn't."

He paced across the front of the room. "So, that's what I want you to all discuss today. Choices made by parahumans and how they affect the world around them. I don't have any particular expectations as to how you pair up as long as you do, but I do expect each of you to converse on the topic with as many of your classmates as possible, so no forming a group and ignoring the rest of the room for the period."

Colin pulled out his chair and settled down at his desk. "If you have any questions, feel free to approach me, otherwise, you have your assignment for the period." He opened his laptop and began going over some of his work as the classroom erupted into conversation.

~~~~~~~~​

Catherine winced slightly as she sat in the uncomfortable desk, listening to the teacher drone on about something utterly meaningless. That they spent so much time trying to attach meaning to Shakespeare made her want to cry. It was just Shakespeare. He didn't write anything to attach some grand meaning to his plays. They were the equivalent of television at the time.

She turned her head to look out the window, cradling her chin in her palm. A vibration against her leg drew her attention and she glanced toward the teacher, who was busy reading something aloud while peering at the pages of the book she held. The woman's nose was so far into the book that Catherine doubted she could see anything else.

Shaking her head, she slipped her phone from her pocket and flipped it open, holding it out of sight and reading the message before sending a quick reply to Minako. Closing it, she looked at her fingers and grimaced. The phone went back in her pocket and she fished out a cuticle pusher and some wipes, cleaning away the black smudges beneath her nails and wiping her fingers clean.

The wipes were stealthily tucked away in a plastic baggie sticking out the top of her backpack for throwing away later. The teacher finally withdrew from her book and scanned the room, looking sternly at them before giving them an assignment about Romeo and Juliet just as the class ended. Like that hadn't been obvious from the way she prattled on about the playwright. She couldn't get out of that classroom fast enough. What did they think was the point of making them study this, really?

Minako was waiting near the cafeteria, looking bored, though one who didn't know her might think she was merely impassive. Her expression brightened as Catherine approached and she inclined her head.

"Waiting long?"

"No," Minako shook her head. "I was merely thinking on someone else's problem's."

"Taylor, you mean?" Catherine asked, glancing down the hall as she saw Professor Singer reaching up on a stool to tinker with a light fixture. Since when did the teachers do that? Wasn't that the maintenance man or janitor's job?

Minako nodded. "That girl worries me and what I have heard as rumor… worries me more."

"So?" Catherine shrugged. "She tries something and we kick her ass, problem solved."

"I do not think she will be so obvious as to try what she did yesterday again," Minako said carefully. "I find that Taylor truly needs friends and I would not care for her to be hurt further by her tormentor."

"Well, what do we do then?" Catherine grimaced, holding the door open so they could enter the cafeteria.

"I had a thought…" Minako began and as she continued, Catherine paid full attention, listening to her friend's ideas intently.

~~~~~~~~​

Sophia grinned to herself as she stretched for the physical education class. Hebert stood across on the other side of the gathering on the track. There were some sort of repairs going on in the gym, but she didn't know what exactly. Still, the phys-ed coach was also in charge of the track team and that gave her a lot more leeway than she got from other teachers. It had been child's play to get the coach to have them do laps and other track activities since the usual waste of time stuff was unavailable with the gym closed.

Stretching her legs one last time, she straightened, staring across the field toward the school building. Was that the new teacher, the Professor dumb-ass or whatever he insisted on being called? What was he doing outside right now? She frowned, then shook her head as he finished whatever he was doing and went back in. Not her problem.

At the signal, she took off, enjoying the feel of the wind whipping past her as she quickly outpaced everyone else. Even keeping herself to a slower pace, she left the rest in the dust. It was the only time, other than when she was out at night, that she felt comfortable. Nothing could touch her, nothing could catch her. She was free. Just her and the wind.

She opened her eyes after a moment. She knew the track without even having to look and she was already halfway around the track and the rest were just making it past the first curve. She would lap them before they had completed a full lap of their own. She pushed out a bit more speed, sending her close to the starting line before backing off a bit, letting the burn in her legs settle back down. She took a moment, scanning the line of runners until she spotted Hebert, who was leading the group.

Fancies herself a runner, does she? Sophia almost sneered and picked up the pace, intending to lap Hebert. At the rate she was going, Sophia was certain Hebert would outpace the others shortly, leaving them behind. Once they were far enough from the others, then she could make sure Hebert knew her place and it would look like a complete accident. She had had enough of them when she was first starting out that she was confident she could replicate one now.

Several more laps passed and she was almost grudgingly impressed by the time she passed the starting mark for the sixth time. A lot of them had fallen back or given up, but Hebert was still going, evenly pacing herself. Sophia knew Hebert hadn't crossed the start as many times as she had, but it was somewhat impressive.

Sophia came around the curve, bringing herself even with Taylor, who glanced in her direction briefly, but otherwise showed no reaction.

Now.

She deliberately veered into Hebert's lane, looking like she had just drifted off course. She shot a foot out and aimed for the other girl's own feet, intending to trip her and send her sprawling. Then she'd call for the coach and apologize profusely, claiming she drifted off course on autopilot.

Her foot fell short as Hebert veered away before contact would be made. Prepared to stumble, she missed a step and her feet tangled on each other. Before she could correct, she pitched forward, hearing a popping sound in the same moment she felt her knees scrape the pavement. A choked off sound reached her ears and it took a second to realize it was her voice as she curled in, reaching for her ankle.

"Coach!" Hebert was calling out. "Sophia needs help!"

"Don't worry," she heard Hebert telling her as she gritted her teeth. "The coach is on her way. You should pay a bit more attention I think. I know what it's like to get lost while enjoying running, but going on autopilot is never a good idea."

The bitch was mocking her. Sophia hissed, wanting to snap at Hebert, but the other girl was standing somewhere out of sight.

"What the hell happened?" the coach demanded. Sophia tried to say something but her ankle released a fresh wave of pain and she curled tighter in on herself.

"I think she got too focused," Hebert's voice rang out. "She drifted off course and nearly collided with me. I veered off, but I guess she came out of tunnel vision, missed a step and went down before she could correct."

The coach nodded and Sophia saw him kneeling down near her ankle, tentatively peeling her hand away from it. The hissed sound was all she needed to know.

"Damnit, Hess," he said. "This is going to have you out for weeks, at least."

"Should I get the nurse?" Hebert asked.

Coach Reslin nodded. "Tell her to bring a chair or something. Hess isn't going to be walking on this until we've gotten it looked at. Maybe not even then."

"I'll be right back!" Hebert said, sounding genuinely concerned before she ran off. A lie. Sophia ground her teeth together. The entire thing was an act. The bitch had set her up! Just like before, it was like she had seen it coming and moved in just the right way to cause her to crash and screw up her ankle.

Sophia sucked in air, trying to ignore the blinding pain. Like she had known it was coming. Weeks of this. No one could be that lucky. The bitch had to be a parahuman or have one doing something for her to swing the odds in her favor. Whatever else was going on at school, she knew what she was doing now. This was the last straw. Hebert had to go.

~~~~~~~~​

I waved goodbye to Catherine and Minako, heading toward the bus stop. Dad had another hour before he was off and I was going to be able to make it home before that. I ran a hand through my hair and winced at how sweaty it felt. I had run a lot more than I had intended to, but it had helped ease the constant sounds that I kept hearing. I was certain I knew what they were now, but I didn't want to think about that.

I needed a shower when I got home, and I needed it bad. A quick look ahead and I knew I would have time to do that before my dad got back. I sighed, glancing back toward the school for a moment. I'd only had a moment to decide what to do when Sophia tried to trip me. There had been a couple of possibilities and I had chosen that. I thought about it for a moment and finally shook my head. Sophia had chosen to try something and got what she deserved. One step less and I would have been the one with a wrecked ankle.

Choices. I thought about what Professor Singer had said today, about the choices we made and how the choices made by people with powers could have more impacts than those made by the people who didn't. I had chosen the option that made Sophia get hurt.

Was that the choice I wanted to make all the time? I bit my lip, thinking about it while taking my case of colored pencils out to start adding some color to the figure I had drawn earlier. Blacks and golds for this one would work best, I thought.

No. I didn't want to do that, to benefit from someone else's pain. Seeing her ankle twisted like that and how much pain she was in and realizing it was my fault. I didn't like it. Maybe she would if she had done that to me, but that was on her.

I wanted to be better than that. I would be better than that.

"This weekend," I murmured to myself, scribbling a note with a plain pencil in the corner of the page for myself. There were some things I needed to buy, but I think I would be able to start working on the costume I was coloring right now.

The bus arrived and absently flashed my I.D. to him, switching to a gold color and beginning to fill in the symbol on the chest. Wasn't there some sort of parahuman who worked with fabric operating somewhere near downtown? I might be able to buy some fabric off her… if I was careful. I didn't know if there were rules for just approaching a cape like that and the last thing I wanted was to offend a cape by accident because I didn't know something.

Something to look at once I was home and I could check Parahumans Online, I thought as I switched back to black to fill in some empty spaces. This outfit actually had a mask. I smiled a bit at that thought. After so many without masks, having one that did was nice. The way it covered my face would change its lines enough that if I wore it, it wouldn't immediately connect to me.

I stared at the outfit for a bit longer before closing the notebook and tucking it into my bag. Choices did help decide who we were going to be. After today, I think I knew what I- no, who I, wanted to be.

--

A Muffin to anyone who can accurately identify all four students in class.

 

[chibipoe]

1.8

Friday. 4:12 PM

Colin pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing desperately that he had his suit with its built-in tension soothers. This entire situation had gone downhill so fast and all because of a seriously disturbed girl's inability to deal with being shown up by someone she had looked down upon.

"Has emergency services gotten everyone hurt to BB Memorial?" he asked, surveying the milling crowd of students being directed by police and other faculty. Parents were arriving to pick up their children and he saw and heard several arguing loudly with the authorities, demanding answers they couldn't provide.

"We're making one last sweep of the school for any possible hold-outs, but I believe so," Miss Militia said. "Director Piggot was not pleased that you tasked PRT resources to deal with a situation that didn't involve parahumans."

"She can address those concerns with me directly," he shrugged, loosening his tie. "Given the location, I judged containing the situation quickly and efficiently was more important than whatever her concerns are. As you know now, though, it wasn't a civilian case anyway."

"You're not talking about Shadow Stalker, are you?" Militia asked, glancing his way. "You were worried about our pyrokinetic acting out again?"

"I considered that a possibility," he admitted. "One among many. The recent influx of gang activity had me worried as well. The E88 have at least one parahuman of the appropriate age to be at Winslow, to say nothing of some of the independents who have refused Wards membership."

Miss Militia looked thoughtful. "That could have turned Winslow inside out. Our initial ratings on some of the independents… a fight breaking out could have easily leveled the school."

"Still, it could have been worse," he turned his eyes toward where the new crews were milling around outside the limits of the school property. "At least what happened with Stalker was only witnessed by a few students. If that had been widespread, this could have been much worse. The last thing we need is the news running parahuman fear pieces. They would connect the dots to Hebert's situation last month in a hurry and we'd already have Parahuman terrorizing normal people garbage littering the air."

"It would be the truth, Colin," she pointed out gently.

"Doesn't make it not garbage," he sighed and looked toward the school for a moment. "I'm sorry. This has been a stressful week. I got the monitoring systems running and this happened. I'm still no closer to deducing who the pyrokinetic is than I was when this started."

"You're still against Hebert, then?"

"I'm divided," he admitted. "I hadn't seen anything to suggest it, but I'm considering that she might have triggered. The way she dealt with Hess after provoking her, it was like she knew exactly what was going to happen, precisely the buttons to push. It appeared too… easy, I guess."

"Perhaps she took up martial arts?" Militia said. "A parahuman power doesn't have to be the first answer all the time."

"She hasn't," he said absently, starting toward the school, Miss Militia following. "I performed a search for any recent applicants into any of the schools around Brockton Bay and none of them matched her description."

"Colin," Militia said patiently. "Most schools don't record keep that way, to say nothing that it couldn't be merely training from someone she knows."

"I'm not discounting any of those possibilities," he replied. "But it seems unlikely, nonetheless. Had she recently taken up martial arts, there wouldn't have been enough time for such smooth, coordinated responses to become ingrained. This was something I would have expected from Vista with years of training."

He glanced sideways as they moved down the hall, noting her surprise. "What?"

"I wasn't aware you had such a high opinion of her skills," she observed.

"Creativity in place of outright strength is worthy of respect," he grunted. "The decision to keep her in a support role was not mine. I had no hand in some of marketing's decisions either."

"You still don't like the PR department," she almost laughed.

"For a variety of reasons," he agreed. "Not the least of which is some of the things they put my emblem on." He nodded toward the door ahead, where a pair of PRT guards stood in place. "That aside, I think we should see about piecing together how all of this happened."

"Agreed," Militia said. "Shall I take point, since you're still incognito?"

"Actually, let me take lead," he decided, wishing again that he was fully geared. His suite of lie detection systems would be very useful right now. The two PRT agents held the door open and he entered behind Miss Militia. Catherine Greene sat at one end of the conference room that was typically used for parent and teacher meetings.

"Ms. Greene," he said, settling into one of the chairs while Miss Militia took another. "Our apologies for taking so long. There were a lot of issues outside that we had to oversee."

The girl shrugged. "I've got nothing to do except go home, Which I'd like to do. This room's kind of boring."

"Well, we just have a few questions about today and then you're free to go," he told her.

"Let me guess," she said, apparently in an ill-temper. "I'm stuck here until I answer your questions, am I right? I think my dad might have some issues with unlawfully detaining a minor."

"Nothing of the sort," Miss Militia murmured. "We would just like to obtain a clearer picture of what set off today's events and as you were intimately involved, we were hoping you might be able to fill in some of the pieces for us."

The girl stared at them for a moment, then snorted. "It'll get me out of here faster than anything else, though I still don't think my dad will be thrilled about this. So, ask your questions."

"How was it that you became aware of the animosity between Ms. Hebert and Ms. Hess?" Miss Militia asked.

Catherine stared again for a moment before shaking her head. "Well, rumor was pretty strong, but after a friend and I were witness to psycho-girl trying to harass Taylor more than once, we were concerned she might try something worse…"

~~~~~~~~​

Friday, 9:47 AM

The library was quiet for her free period and Catherine leaned back in her chair, the book she had been reading forgotten. The morning had been dull, though hearing about what had happened yesterday on the track during PE had her split between trying to smile and frown. She had passed Sophia in the hall earlier, who was moving about slowly with the aid of a cane and looking almost murderous as she limped about.

The rumors she had overhead in the cafeteria at breakfast suggested that her injury sidelined her for some upcoming track meet, and that she had been expected to carry Winslow through several events. It was the sort of thing that she expected would invite retaliation, as rumors ran the range from Sophia jumped out a window and broke her ankle to Taylor beating Sophia down with a hurdle from the track until it broke to pieces.

"You are worried," Minako murmured, drawing her attention.

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "If even half of what we've heard about the crap Taylor got from her is true, then I expect her to try something bad today. Retaliation for yesterday."

"Have you given thought to what we discussed yesterday? It could be useful and she might agree," Minako asked.

Catherine frowned. "I thought about that, but I'm not sure we should. That… we'd be going all in and I'm… not right now, no." Minako nodded slightly in acknowledgement and looked down at the assignments she had been working on.

"There is the alternative of employing Hess' preferred tactics against her," Minako said. "Injured as she is, we would have little difficulty."

"Punting the stupid bitch into next year would be gratifying," Catherine replied. "Just… she reminds me of someone and I can't place exactly who. Rubs me the wrong way though."

"You are opposed to that?" Minako asked.

"Yeah," she sighed. "As much as I want to pound her face in, she's got pull with someone. Track, probably. She'd just whine to them and we'd be hauled off to the office."

"What do you recommend, then?"

"Best I've got right now would be one of us sticks with Taylor as much as we can, the other keeps an eye on Hess?" Catherine mused.

"We do not share all of our classes with her," Minako pointed out. "We do not even share all of our classes with each other. Unfeasible."

"Hell if I know what to do then," Catherine said, crossing her arms. "What do you suggest?"

"What does anyone do with a complicated situation that involves one of their friends?" Minako asked. "They go to their friend and ask what they can do to help."

Catherine stared at her. "Talk to Taylor, you're saying."

"That is what I said, yes," Minako murmured. "She has proven adept in the time we have known her of dealing with her tormentor. She may be prepared already."

"The next class I share with her is before lunch, if I recall right," Catherine said. "I'll talk to her then."

~~~~~~~~​

"After that, we finished our study period and I went to my next class," she finished. "Are we done here?"

"Almost," Colin murmured, looking at the rough reports they had gathered. "There was the altercation between you, your friend Ms. Yori, Ms. Hebert, and Sophia Hess that we wanted to ask about."

Catherine shrugged. "I showed up to knock that crossbow from her hand. Minako was there before I was. I just joined in the punching after that, and I can't talk about what I didn't see. Can I go now, please?"

"You'll be free to go shortly," Miss Militia said politely. "We just have to ask some of the others some questions. Please wait here, if you would." Colin stood alongside her and they started toward the door.

"Knew I should have just told you to fuck off," Catherine muttered. "What happened to 'Answer our questions and you can go?"

"We may have more questions, Ms. Greene," Colin said, his voice tight. "I assure you we'll do everything possible to have you on your way quickly."

"Whatever," she retorted, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair, the table vibrating as she kicked the underside of it.

Colin glanced sideways at his companion once they were outside of the room. "I don't know that I've ever been told so much detail about absolutely nothing before."

"She wasn't lying," Miss Militia said.

He nodded in agreement. "No, she wasn't. I hope that speaking with Ms. Yori will prove more enlightening, however."

"Have you reviewed your recordings yet?"

Colin shook his head. "I just got them deployed yesterday afternoon and haven't had the occasion to look any of the video over. I'm not sure it would give me anything useful for this entire mess, though."

"Not even another view of the events involving Ms. Hebert and Ms. Hess?" Miss Militia asked.

"I can't imagine that will provide me any information than what I saw with my own eyes." he said with a glower. "Still, I'll package the video up and send it along to be reviewed."

Minako Yori was in her chair when they entered, eyes closed, looking completely at peace. She was so still that Colin wasn't sure he was looking at a living, breathing person for a moment. Her eyes opened calmly as they took seats opposite her.

"Ms. Yori," Miss Militia began. "We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us about today."

"You wish to know about my interactions with Taylor, and with Sophia Hess," Minako said serenely.

"That is correct," Colin said firmly. "It's been observed that you were friendly with Taylor this past week, and as someone close to the situation, any insight you have would be helpful."

Minako said nothing for a moment before beginning to speak. "My intent had been to approach Taylor before the next class, however, I chose my route poorly…"

~~~~~~~~​

There were two groups of students eyeing each other with open hostility obstructing the hall as she came out of the stairwell. She almost stepped back, frowning as she identified that both groups were wearing gang colors. The Empire and the ABB. All their eyes were for one another, so she stepped back, unwilling to be caught between a closed door and the Empire, who were the ones she had come out behind.

Minako kept the door open slightly so she could hear them while slipping a hand into her pocket for her cellphone. It buzzed as soon as her hand closed around it and she quietly let the door close as the groups broke out into violence.

"Catherine?"

"Are you okay?" her friend asked. "There's fights breaking out between-"

"The Empire and the ABB," she finished. "I did not gather much about what sparked this before you called, though."

"I heard someone in the hall saying that the school got a threat of some sort," was the reply. "Nothing too clear though. Maybe both gangs think the other one is moving?"

"That is possible," Minako murmured. "What purpose would such a threat serve, though?"

She tilted her head, even though such a gesture could not be seen by Catherine, considering what she had witness and what she had just been told. "We should find Taylor."

"Taylor?" Catherine repeated and then there was a sound of confirmation from the other girl. "You think this might be Hess?"

"I do not decide on anything as a certainty, but this does concern me," Minako said, moving down the stairs quickly.

"I don't know if Hess is dumb enough to do something like this," Catherine said doubtfully. "Seems like she'd be more the type to do it herself… but.. you might be right. Taylor's got social this period. Meet me there?"

"I shall," she ended the call and stepped out on the ground floor. Professor Singer's classroom was at the other end of the hall from her.

"Well, well, well," a sneering voice said. "Look what we got here. A little chink bitch, wandering away from her friends." Minako closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at the trio of skinheads before her.

"Please move aside," she asked politely. "I have no wish for trouble."

"Too bad, huh?" the apparent ringleader said. "We thought we'd send a message to your sloke friends and you just happened to be here. Works for us, right?"

She went still for an instant, then let her fingers curl and uncurl once. Just a little would be enough. They were unarmed and ignorant. "I detest that word. It is very offensive."

"What? Sl-?" he began, cutting off in a choked sound as she attacked.

A moment later and all three were down and she stepped around them. "Thank you for moving from my path."

~~~~~~~~​

"That was Kevin Gregory, Walter Edgewood and Michael Randolph, yes?" Colin asked, glancing at a report of the injured students.

Minako shook her head. "I do not know their names, but they were most unsavory."

"And you took them down alone… how?" he asked bluntly.

"My mother is familiar with the martial arts and Catherine's father insists that his daughter's friends know how to defend themselves," was her reply.

"Did they also teach you how to assault a half-crippled girl?" he asked, frustrated with the girl's composed responses to everything. Did nothing upset her?

The faintest of smiles appeared on her face. "They taught me that you had to deal quickly and decisively with people who behave as she did. A strike to the face was the least of what she deserved."

"Well, this has been most informative, Ms. Yori," Miss Militia said, giving him a disbelieving look as she rose from her seat. "We have two more interviews to conduct and you should be free to go shortly."

The girl nodded and closed her eyes, returning to her still, peaceful posture that she had when they entered the room.

"Those three boys were not small, by any stretch of imagination," Colin remarked after they had left. "Training or no, they should have been able to overpower her just by weight alone."

"If she were fast enough, perhaps not," Militia said. "She was not lying about training. She was too still when we came in. That suggests training from a very young age."

"So, again, we have truth, but there are details missing?" he grimaced. "Hopefully our next interview will be more enlightening than these two. Hess or Hebert?"

Miss Militia looked up from her PRT-issued phone at a message. "The squads would like permission to transport Ms. Hess out. The Director wants a word with her soon."

He grimaced. "I want to question her, but… best to get her moved out quickly and quietly. Let Emily have her to terrorize. It isn't as if I won't be able to properly question her after I put my beard back on."

"I'll send word," she began typing a response on the phone. "Do you want me there when you speak to Ms. Hebert, to cut in if you start to lose your temper like that again?"

"I see no reason to break our trend," he said, nodding in acknowledgement of her words. "She's still in the office, yes?"

"Blackwell was gracious enough to allow her to stay there, yes," Miss Militia said. "I do not know how you have not lost your temper with that woman."

Colin grinned mirthlessly. "She and I have butted heads more than once, to her detriment. I imagine she is busy trying to spin this and absolve herself of all culpability."

"You don't like her," Miss Militia observed.

"I don't know how she still has her job, given how inadequate she is at it. She has to have something on someone higher up, is my theory."

"Perhaps this incident will be too much for whoever that is?" Miss Militia asked.

"One hopes," he nodded to the guards at the door they were approaching and entered. The girl sitting there looked up as they entered. She had been drawing in her omnipresent notebook, he saw, but only caught a glimpse of the picture before she closed it.

He didn't say anything as they settled in the chairs opposite the girl. The notebook she was always drawing in was something he was curious about, but she had not afforded anyone a look inside that he knew of.

"Do you draw, Ms. Hebert?" Miss Militia asked. The girl swivelled to stare at her, equal parts astonished and guarded. There was distrust there, of authority if his guess was correct. He could hardly blame her for that given what he had gleaned about her interactions with the faculty at Winslow before his arrival.

Afterwards as well, he thought ruefully. She was not disposed to trust in the teachers at all and that included him, even when he had made overtures. He considered what he knew of her as she began tucking the notebook away in her pack.

"I do," she said simply. "But I don't think you came in to ask me about art."

He nodded slightly. "Unfortunately, with what happened today, we do have some questions that we hope you can answer and make things a bit more clear for us."

"I've already gone over what happened with the police," she murmured, turning her gaze toward Colin "Why do I have to do this again with a member of the Protectorate and a teacher? Why are you even here questioning me?"

"Principal Blackwell is otherwise occupied and as someone who has interacted with the PRT and Protectorate in the past, it was decided that I was the best person to stand in these sessions as a representative for the school," Colin said smoothly.

"That still doesn't explain why I'm having to go over all of this again," Taylor pressed. "There isn't anything I can tell you that I didn't already tell the police, or that you didn't see. This is a waste of time."

"Given that Ms. Hess was revealed as a parahuman, we do have to perform our own inquiry separate from the police," Miss Militia said. "I understand your frustration, Ms. Hebert, but cooperating will have you on your way quickest."

"I don't see what her being a parahuman has to do with anything," Taylor countered. "No one but her knew that until about three hours ago. What, was she a Ward and you're just trying to cover yourselves so you don't look bad?"

"I'm not privy to what the Director might intend for Ms. Hess, however she was not a member of the Wards, no." Miss Militia said. Colin almost winced at her choice of wording as Taylor's eyes narrowed.

"Implying that she might become one, or will be offered membership," Taylor said frostily. "This fills me with all sorts of confidence in the Protectorate and the Wards program. If I ever got powers, I think I'd just say no."

Colin sighed mentally and brought his hands together. "Ms. Hebert, while I can certainly understand your animosity for Ms. Hess, given her actions toward you, I hardly think that taking your frustrations out on Miss Militia helps matters."

Taylor stared at him, distrust still clear in her gaze. He frowned slightly as he regarded her. Weren't her eyes hazel or dark brown? For a moment, they had almost seemed green. He blinked and shook his head. No, her eyes were brown. The lights in here were just terrible.

"What do you want to know?" Taylor said, slumping in her chair as if exhausted. "I'd really like to get out of here and it looks like you're not going to let me go until you have your questions answered."

"Well, if you could begin with this morning, that would be appreciated," he told her.

She gave him a disgruntled look and straightened. "Well, I came to school…"

~~~~~~~~​

The bursts of noise that had plagued me throughout the day yesterday had stopped, but they had been replaced with a sound not unlike water running across rocks. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was distracting, especially when I was sitting in class and my attention drifted from Professor Singer's lecture.

He has got to work out in his spare time.

I blinked, hearing the words as clear as day, but no one around me had said anything. It wasn't my own thought, either, though it was one I had before. I glanced around the room carefully, trying to figure out what I was hearing. I settled on a girl that I thought was one of Emma's circle of flunkies. Her name was Nancy, if I was not mistaken and she was staring at Professor Singer with an expression that suggested she was not thinking about schoolwork.

This is boring. Who cares about some bunch of capes who I'll never meet?

Maybe it was focusing so much, but I could feel where this came from and I glanced at an angle toward the back of the room. A surly hispanic boy sat in the corner, his arms crossed and looking thoroughly bored.

Was I hearing people's thoughts? I looked back down to my notebook and idly made notes on the edges of the paper. How to test… I tilted my head and looked toward Professor Singer as he began talking about the formation of the Protectorate and how it affected the dynamics of parahuman/civilian interaction. The sound I could hear in the back of my mind was like water, but as I focused on it, I could tell it wasn't just one large stream. It was a lot of small ones making up a whole. If each was a person… I reached out for the one I thought was Professor Singer's. It felt different from the others around me. More developed? I could almost touch it...

"Ah!" I said, wincing as something struck at me, producing a flash of pain as my concentration splintered into shards.

"Are you alright, Ms. Hebert?" I heard him ask, realized I had several people staring at me.

"Just a sudden headache, Professor," I gritted, wincing still from the discordant sensations I had felt in that brief instant. "May I be excused for a moment?"

He stared at me and then nodded. "Class is almost over, so go ahead. If you need to, go see the nurse."

"Thank you, sir," I murmured, gathering up my things and quickly leaving the room. There were restrooms nearby and I headed for them, bringing a hand up to massage my forehead. Hearing thoughts…. I think that was what I was doing, but what had that been? It hadn't made any sense at all in the moment I had made contact. Was Professor Singer some sort of alien? It hadn't felt like anyone else's stream had when I had been studying them.

"Aliens, right," I snorted and winced as it brought a fresh stab of pain. I must have touched something else or did something wrong. But… I could hear people's thoughts! Was there anyone who had that kind of power?

I splashed some water into my face, thinking. Mind-reading, telekinesis, foresight… and whatever I had done to those guys who had tried to mug me. I'd made them afraid of me… but I couldn't think of what that was exactly. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to decide what to do. With just precognition, there wasn't really a lot of testing to figure out what I could do.. but with these… I had to figure out what I was capable of before I hurt someone without meaning to.

Thoughts of that were torn away as I heard a shout and then the definite sound of fist striking flesh from out in the hall. Fighting? The streams closest to me now were agitated, disturbed and roiling. I dried my hands, glancing at the faucet and imagining the handles turning. They twisted slowly, shutting off the flow of water. The headache had not entirely died out, but I felt better nonetheless, a smile creasing my face.

It dropped off as I peeked out from the bathroom, to see a pair of teachers trying to break up a fight between some members of the Empire and the ABB. The bell had sounded and there were students milling around, trying to get to their next class while occasionally gawking at the fight. I turned smoothly and slid into the flow of traffic, letting my precognition guide me in avoiding bumping into anyone.

"Mrs. Harold," I heard a student say as I passed by the teacher keeping watch so I could cut over to the cafeteria. "There's a couple of people out cold on the floor near the stairs at the end of the hall. I think there was a fight or something…"

"Show me," she said simply, following the student. I sighed and changed directions, wanting to avoid the likely bottleneck that whatever happened down there would create. A quick glance forward and I ducked through a nearby classroom, cutting through it to the hallway on the other side.

There were, however, teachers dealing with fights there as well. I stared for a moment and shook my head, starting toward the nearest stairwell so I could get to lunch. The sounds of fighting from somewhere higher up in it made me sigh. What the hell had set the gangs off? They had been tense earlier in the week, but nothing like this before…

I leaned against the wall, watching as other students entered, heard the sounds of fighting and promptly turned around the way they had come. There had to be a way out that wouldn't involve stumbling into someone else's fight.

A frown appeared as I tried another hallway and found a fight taking place there as well. There were just so many fights. Was something causing this? Everywhere I went there was one going on, like a warzone bubbling across the entire school.

Was I doing it somehow? I stopped by a water fountain, considering that. I had affected those men at the mall, but I didn't know how yet. I certainly didn't think I was projecting anyway and even if I were… why would I make everyone fight?

No, this wasn't me. There was something else. I was just missing a piece of the puzzle that would cause this all to make sense. I needed to know what that wa-.

I can't believe someone called in a threat, claiming a student had weapons in the school. This is unacceptable. When I find out… The thought drifted to me, clear as day and I swung around quickly, catching sight of Principal Blackwell turning a nearby corner. Weapons? Was that it? Someone had brought… knives? No, there were gangers with those everyday. Guns, maybe.

Calm settled over me as things started to make sense. The staff couldn't keep a lid on it and the gangs both thought the other side is making a move, probably. The spark to set off the fire. Great.

My mind churned as I ran through the chain of logic. The gangs weren't going to stop until someone won or the teachers ended it, which was pretty unlikely. Professor Singer might be able to break up a few fights, but there were too many for him to contain, just from what I had seen so far. The rest of the staff weren't anywhere near the same sort of shape as he.

Not that many of them seen to have the spine to try in the first place, I thought uncharitably as I saw one teacher actively backing away from a fight and running down the hall. They would probably call for the police, perform searches to see if there were…

I blinked as a thought dropped into my mind, then shook my head. No, even she wouldn't…

A moment later, I bit my lip as I ducked down an empty hall and used my foresight, pushing ahead to see if anything was happening near the locker I no longer used.

"Bitch," I snarled as the sequence played out in my mind; Sophia coming down the hall, looking almost frantic as she hobbled along, a dufflebag slung across her back. I saw her stop in front of my locker and reach for it before I cut the vision off, stalking away. Pissed over what happened yesterday, I guessed, and trying to get back at me?

Yesterday hadn't driven the point home that I was done being screwed with, I suppose. I didn't understand why she was doing this. Even for her, this was pretty extreme. The locker had been disgusting but I had avoided any infections or the like. This… this was… I couldn't even make sense of why she would try this.

I shook my head. Whatever. It didn't matter why. It only mattered that I stop her. I pushed off of the wall, intending to do that then stopped as a different idea occurred to me. Sophia had been trying a lot of stuff lately and it had all fallen apart or, like yesterday, self-destructed on her. If that fact hadn't sunk in for her yet, then maybe something else needed to blow up in her face.

Starting off again, I began running possibilities for how to collapse this entire mess on Sophia. I skirted around a fight that Professor Singer was breaking up, giving him a worried look as he glanced toward me, but kept moving. I didn't have time to explain this.

The hallway to my locker was virtually empty when I got there. Ahead of me, just as I had seen, Sophia was hobbling toward section where mine was, muttering to herself, but I couldn't tell what she was saying.

"You know," I called out, loud enough that she would know it was me. "This has got to be the dumbest thing you have ever done. I didn't think you could top yesterday's stupidity. Looks like I was wrong."

Sophia spun, an ugly expression on her face. I frowned slightly at how fast she moved. That was faster than I thought she was capable of. "Hebert."

"Hess," I said in the same tone of voice. "Now, what could you possibly want with my locker?"

Sophia looked around and when she confirmed that there was no one else visible, gave me what was probably her best sneer. "Your locker? You mean the locker I just found you taking weapons from to hide somewhere else?" She freed the bag from her shoulder and flung it toward me where it skidded to the floor at my feet, its contents spilling out along the way.

I didn't move or even look at it. "Really? That's your plan? Try to pin this on me when there's no one around that lend credence to your accusation? Not a great plan."

"Like the Principal will believe you over me," she retorted. "You might think you're something special now, flaunting it all over the school under everyone's noses. But I know."

I kept my face impassive. She knows? That I have powers? How? No, she might suspect but I hadn't done anything around her that would definitely say I had powers. "You know… what, exactly? I know you're upset over yesterday and I really am sorry, but that was an accident. If you had just paid attention…"

"Don't!" she snapped. "I'm not stupid. I couldn't possibly screw up like that. It was you. You did something!"

"I really don't get how you figure that, but sure, let's go with it," I said dismissively. "Do you even realize how crazy you sound right now?"

"Doesn't matter what you think I sound like," Sophia said, starting toward me. "Since it won't be my word against yours. It'll just be my word."

"How are you going to manage that?" I asked, starting forward as well. "I'd love to hear this."

"I found you trying to run off with that, we fought and you suffered an unfortunate accident," Sophia retorted, dropping down quickly and snatching up a compact crossbow from the weapons that had spilled from the bag. A crossbow that was already loaded and pointed at me. I didn't say anything, letting my power show me what to do next.

"I told you I don't lose," she snarled and pulled the trigger. I stepped to the side in that same instant and it soared past me with space to spare.

"I know this might be hard to accept," I said as frustration appeared on her face, "but you missed."

"I don't lose!" she snarled again and reached into her hoodie's pocket, fumbling for something there. Another bolt for the crossbow, I saw, as she tried to put in place. With the cane she had been given though, she was having a hard time balancing everything. I started forward, intending to stop her, then I slid to a halt, smiling faintly at what I saw behind her.

A hand came down and the crossbow was knocked away and Sophia jerked away from the person responsible, staring at Catherine and Minako, who had come up behind her.

"I don't know how you two thought to find me here, but I am glad for it," I said. surprised to find that it was true.

"We were concerned that this person might intend you ill," Minako said lightly.

"Looks like we were right, too," Catherine chimed in, glaring at Sophia. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"You two again," she snapped. "Why? She's a nobody and you two just drop out of nowhere to be her protectors. Did she just conjure you up out of thin air?"

"You know, that's a good theory," Catherine said. "Too bad it's wrong. Pretty sure my parents had something to do with my existence."

"I'm not entirely sure what is going on here," Professor Singer's voice intruded, drawing everyone's attention. He was standing down the hall from us, rolling the bolt that had been fired between his fingers, looking oddly pleased for some reason. "But I suspect that it's nothing good."

"They attacked me, sir," Sophia said immediately. "Hebert's got weapons and was planning to use them. I tried to stop her and they ganged up on me."

"That's an interesting story," he said quietly, walking forward. I didn't say anything, curious to see what he would do. "An almost believable one, with Ms. Hebert here surrounded by all these weapons. However… she's standing here and those two are there… and the only crossbow that I see is at your feet… You might want to try again with a better story, don't you agree, Ms. Hess?"

Her expression twisted through several emotions before she spun, still surprisingly fast for someone with a busted ankle. She was clearly angling to get away but found Catherine cutting her off.

The brunette's punch spun Sophia right into a blow from Minako, their motions so fluid that it almost looked like something they had practiced. Professor Singer hadn't reached where I was standing yet and I moved forward as Sophia reeled, catching her cane as it started to fall. I jabbed the grip toward her stomach, aiming to knock the air out of her.

It passed through with little resistance, the lines of Sophia's figure wavering and becoming indistinct. I stumbled, unprepared for the lack of resistance and she became solid again, shooting off toward an open stretch of the hall to avoid Professor Singer.

No. She was not getting away from this. I flung the cane, adding spin to it and watching it helicopter toward her as she did that shadowy thing again when the Professor tried to grab her. She came out of it a few steps later, right as the cane spun into her ankles, sending her to the floor with a sound almost identical to what I had heard yesterday on the track field.

~~~~~~~~​

"After that, we were all escorted to different rooms, I guess and the police and PRT were in here asking me a bunch of questions." Taylor shrugged. "So, nothing you didn't know."

"How did you know the cane would stop her?" Colin asked, letting his pencil drift across the page he was looking at in the folder before him, his other hand holding up one page

"I hoped it would," she shrugged. "She was going to get away and that seemed the most likely way to stop her from doing so."

Miss Militia leaned forward slightly. "Ms. Hebert, after the incident last month and what happened today, there is some concern that you might have… well, developed parahuman abilities."

Taylor stared at her. "And? You did your tests and they said I wasn't. Am I supposed to have the power to make people think I'm not a parahuman? That seems kind of worthless, if so."

She slid a card across the table. "If there is anything you do want to talk about, call this number. I can understand what it's like to suddenly be different and would be happy to answer your questions."

"Are you even listening?" Taylor groaned. "I don't want or need your card. Give it to someone who actually needs help. Hess, maybe. But unless you have a parahuman whose power is to give the best therapy ever, I don't think there is much that will help her."

Colin carefully closed the folder he had in front of him. "Very well. I think that is everything we need, Ms. Hebert. If Miss Militia has no other questions, then you are free to go." Miss Militia shook her head, looking frustrated as Taylor shouldered her bag and left the room, the card abandoned on the table.

Colin sat for a moment after she had left and sighed, covering his face with a hand. "This… is a problem."

"You still think she's a parahuman?" Miss Militia asked.

"And you don't?" he replied. "She was careful to avoid saying anything that was a lie, but I do think she's one. But is she the one responsible for that display last month? I don't know. Regardless, she's been bullied and now she has power. Add to that a disillusionment with authority and becoming openly aggressive… What would you say she's ripe for?"

"Gang recruitment," Miss Militia said. "The signs do seem pretty clear toward that end. You're absolutely sure?"

"I try not to deal in absolutes if I can help it," he replied. "But this doesn't do anything but make my job harder, I'm afraid. If Ms. Hebert is a parahuman as I now believe her to be, we still have no idea exactly what she can do. We could be staring at a potential time bomb."

"Perhaps we should revisit the teacher you replaced and his situation?" Miss Militia asked. "Gladly, was it?"

"I don't think there's much to gain from him, honestly," Colin replied. "We already tried questioning him, but I'll look over the transcripts of that again. Perhaps I missed something."

"In the meantime…?" Miss Militia stood.

"Well, I'm going to continue here at Winslow for now," he said. "The Director may want me back, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something serious building here. Today only reinforced that. We have one parahuman who was here, if unstable. There could be others, possible Wards candidates aside from Taylor, if my suspicions play out."

"And Ms. Hebert?"

He took a deep breath. "As long as she denies it and we have no proof, we can't really approach her. The issue will have to bide for now, until something changes. Pressure would just reinforce the viewpoint she already has and drive her away, making the situation worse."

"What about her friends? Ms. Greene and Ms. Yori?"

"I'll keep an eye on them, though, logically, I would say no," he mused. "Ms. Yori, for example, handled herself with remarkable composure. She doesn't strike me as the type to have a trigger. Still… My instinct tells me not to rule them out. I might see if I can get Dragon to help me develop a system to compare what we know about our independents and cross that against the student body. It wouldn't be one hundred percent, but it might give me an idea of who I could be dealing with, if anyone."

Miss Militia shook her head, a half-smile crossing her features. "I think you should trust your instincts, Colin. You don't do that nearly enough."

"Perhaps," he said ruefully. "I still find myself wishing I could sedate some of these kids and find myself reaching for the means to do so, before remembering where I am. I'll consider it. At the moment, I will finish up here and then meet you at PRT HQ to speak with the Director?"

"An event I am thoroughly anticipating," Miss Militia said before resting a hand on his arm. "Take care, Colin."

Colin smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "You as well, Hannah." She left without another word and he flipped the folder he had been looking at during the talk with Taylor again. He lifted the interview form out of the way, looking at the page where he had sketched out what he could recall of the picture in her art book before she closed it.

"I wonder…" he pulled out his Protectorate phone and scrolled through images he had stored there until he found the one he was looking for. He sat the phone by the paper, eyes flickering between them. From both the phone and the page, a stylized yet abstract bird of prey looked at him, one rendered in flame, the other in ink.

He absently rubbed at where his beard once was, as he murmured into his hand. "Suspicions, indeed…"