Firebird, a Worm AU/Xover?

[chibipoe]

Slumber - Three Lines

Armsmaster rubbed his chin as he regarded the paused recording of Sophia Hess' interrogation. It had taken a bit for the agents to get her to talk, but once she had, it had been informative, though he was sure that there was a great deal of dross obscuring what he really wanted to know.

Which is why he was in the middle of reviewing the entire interrogation for anything worthwhile. He rubbed at his chin again, a grimace appearing on his face. Dragon's formula that let him grow a new beard quickly was something he still wasn't used to. It itched.

"I've been clean-shaven too long," he muttered, reaching for the controls to restart the recording.

"You look strange without a beard, sir," a voice said and he turned toward the speaker, raising an eyebrow at the muscular asian boy standing at attention.

"Your opinion is noted," he said drily. "I assume that means you figured it out on the first day, then?"

"I wouldn't think of suggesting that shaving your beard was an inadequate disguise, sir," Browbeat said.

"Have a seat, if you would," he said, tapping some the controls. The monitor that had shown a frozen picture of an angry Sophia Hess, blanked and was replaced by the standard desktop interface.

"Yes, sir," was the steady reply and the shapeshifting Ward seated herself. He waited until she was settled down and tapped in a command. A faint hum filled the room and he nodded slightly. There, the room was secured against external access or recording.

"You're here to tell me about your little shell game on Friday," he began, glad that his beard hid a smile as she openly radiated surprise in response to his statement. "Before that, though, were you aware that Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker?"

"No, sir," she said and he thought how odd it was to think of someone who looked like a well-built male athlete as a she. "When Miss Militia came and spoke to me earlier, that was the first I had heard of it. Emma might have known, but I had no idea."

"I see," Armsmaster's eyes flicked to the left of his suit's HUD as it signified that she was telling the truth. "You took the weapons that had been planted in Hebert's locker and moved them to Hess's. Why?"

Her form shifted from the familiar figure of Browbeat to the one he had seen only rarely before beginning his investigation at Winslow. She shifted awkwardly, crossing her arms as the clothing did not quite fit her smaller frame.

A thought for developing a material that could adjust size automatically crossed his mind. There had been some nano-fiber that Dragon had acquired. Perhaps it could be repurposed to provide her with clothing that adjusted to accommodate her unique situation?

He shook his head, banishing the thought for now.That could be pursued later. The systems in his helmet tracked a series of muscle movements along his jaw, translating it into a note that it stored for later.

"I... " she looked uncertain for a moment, which prompted him to give her his full attention. He knew her background and personality well enough that seeing her like this warranted more focus."I don't know, sir. At first… I thought…"

Maybe I should invent a time machine so I can go back and tell myself not to get involved with teenage high school politics. He nodded slightly, however, making a motion with one hand. "You thought…?"

Madison stared at the screen for a moment as the command he had sent by gesturing triggered a video from one of his cameras, showing her taking the duffel bag from one locker and placing it in another.

"I don't know what I thought, sir," she said quietly. "It didn't seem right, though, what she was setting Taylor up for."

"We've already discussed your previous activities and the things you've aided her in doing to Ms. Hebert in the past," he pointed out, letting his voice harden. "Why does this differ, from say, the locker?"

"I had nothing to do with that," she said defensively. "I didn't even know they were planning that and I wasn't there when they set it up, or did it."

"True," he said. "That doesn't answer my question. Why does this differ from anything else you've helped set Taylor Hebert up for, such as the locker?"

"I didn-"

"By your own admission back in January, you were harassing her with small, petty things that kept her attention on those so she didn't see the big things coming," he said ruthlessly. "So, whether you didn't plant the filth in the locker or helped push her in, you still helped by doing that."

Madison looked frustrated and shifted in the chair, her hands curling around her biceps. "You're right. I did help them do a lot of bad things to here. I guess… I wanted to make it up to her somehow?"

"So, you decided to move the weapons from Hebert's locker to Hess's locker," he said. "Did she admit any of her plan to you?"

"No," she shook her head. "She was always closer to Emma than anyone else. I heard about what had happened on Thursday with Sophia and Taylor and I know her well enough that I figured she would try something, so I kept an eye out."

"Why not simply bring them to me?" he asked, frowning. "That could have prevented this entire debacle."

Madison looked at the looping footage of herself on the screen. "I might not have shoved her in the locker, but as you said, I still helped. Bringing them to you never even occurred to me. When I overhead the teachers talking about the threat called in, I figured it would be appropriate that it blow up in her face like by having the weapons be found in her locker."

He stared for a moment. "You wanted to try and make amends with this?" She didn't answer, merely ducking her head down and he sighed. "You know this doesn't really solve any of the issues since she has no idea, if that is what you hoped for."

"That doesn't matter, sir," she said firmly. "It was the right thing to do. It doesn't matter that she doesn't know."

He eyed her for a moment, his systems reading the statement as truth. "You can come off monitor duty after next week."

"Anything that I can help with, sir?" Madison asked, shifting back to her Browbeat form. He grimaced and considered the question.

"Taylor Hebert," he said finally. "Your recent impressions of her?"

Madison said nothing for a moment. "After the locker, Emma and Sophia expected her to be even more beaten down, if she came back at all. But she was different. Before it, they… we had ground her down to where she flinched at shadows. After it… it was like night and day. She was confident, assured of herself. She… well, she wasn't confident in a lot of ways before hand. Self-image, for one. But that changed. It was little things at first, the way she held herself, the way she talked."

"Go on," he said, making notes on his tablet.
"The day she got into it with Gladly," Madison continued, feeling her cheeks color, "I had thrown spitballs at her and that was the first time I noticed it. She just leaned to the side and they hit the boy in front of her without even looking or having any way to know I had launched them."

"Spitballs," he said, shaking his head even as he made a note about her mention of the teacher. "This was after the locker, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Madison murmured.

"There's a presentation coming up where they've requested a Ward to come and speak with some difficult students at the Woodland Hills facility." he said, pulling up a schedule and adding her to it. "Browbeat will be attending, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," Madison agreed with a grimace. The facility was a juvenile detention center for some of the repeat offenders and generally an unpleasant experience when a Ward had to try and speak with the students, as the state insisted they be called. "I stopped after that. I wanted to observe and figure out what I was seeing. She hadn't seemed comfortable in her own skin before. I figured it was just growing, but I know the signs, as you might imagine."

"Quite," he nodded.

"But it was like over night that she moved different, more comfortable with herself," she continued. "That was confusing as changes like that don't happen so quickly. There wasn't anything else I could identify though. For a bit, I thought it was like she was a different person. After a while, I just saw Taylor, though a lot more assertive. She countered Emma's remarks, as you saw yourself. Sophia's attempts at pushing her around were avoided. Something had changed and I laid off."

Armsmaster nodded and looked at the clock. "Write it up for me so I can review your thoughts in depth. There won't, I trust, be any further instances of Madison Clements behaving in this fashion, I take it?"

"No, sir," she said. "I… I am sorry, sir."

"You're wasting your breath telling me that," he said gruffly. "Before you go, though. You mentioned Mr. Glady and Taylor getting into an argument? Can you elaborate?

She blinked at the change of topic. "She insulted him in class when he bought into my blaming her for shooting spitballs at the boy in front of her, then walked out when he told her she was going to the Principal's office. He followed her and came back a few minutes later. He seemed a bit distracted, but Mr. Gladly was always a bit out there."

"I see," Armsmaster made another note on his tablet. "Go on then, you have monitor duty, still."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded and quietly left. He sat there for a moment after she had departed, staring at the expression the recording had paused on Sophia Hess' face on as he brought the file back up and thought about the issues he spent most of his time on lately. He eyed the list of reports he still needed to look over, including one from Gallant. Too many to deal with right now.

"Even if I did develop a time machine," he muttered, blanking the screen. "It wouldn't erase my other problems." He considered what Madison had mentioned about Mr. Gladly following after Taylor. Hannah might have been on to something, after all. It did line up neatly with when an opening had let him step in as his replacement. They had already thought about the teacher's condition as a result of a Master effect. Perhaps it was something to examine more in-depth?

The thoughts were arrested as he entered Piggot's office. To his surprise, it was unusually composed. Typically, her desk was covered with papers involving a thousand different issues. Now, everything was neatly stacked and Emily Piggot was sitting upright.

Her features looked paler than yesterday and he made a note to see about implementing a new system for her that would help her health issues more. There were a few things he could do that would make it more efficient and reduce the strain such a system had on the body. Perhaps this time she would actually make use of one of his offerings.

"Director," he said, settling into the too-small chair in front of her desk.

"Armsmaster," she said, in deference to the fact that he was suited. "Now that you're here, I can inform you that Ms. Hess, after being thoroughly educated on her options, has accepted probationary membership into the Wards program, effective immediately."

"Director," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I feel admitting her into the Wards would be a serious misstep. The girl is temperamental, potentially unbalanced. She would be a disruptive to any of the team dynamics we foster among the Wards, to say nothing of the potential issues that could arise if Taylor Hebert takes what she knows and makes it public."

"Ms. Hebert's actions are not my concern," she held a hand up. "Your opinion on her potential status as a parahuman has been noted, but I disagree. Ms. Hess' clearly biased rantings cannot be accepted as evidence to the contrary. As to the other, that is a non-issue as I am in agreement."

"You are?" he blinked, surprised.

"Indeed," she said, smiling slightly. "I've initiated the paperwork for a transfer out to New York. The director there has staff used to working with difficult cases. Her mother was… less than pleased to learn about her daughter's activities and has agreed, though she is reluctant to relocate herself. Sophia will have residency at the Protectorate dormitories and direct oversight from a member there to ensure her behavior."

"Her mother didn't contest?" he asked. "And I must say, I don't know that this is the best course of action

"Mother and daughter do not see eye to eye," was her reply. "It won't be an issue. I agree, for the most part, but I was overruled. For what reason, I don't know. The girl would be incarcerated until she straightened up if I were making the final decision."

"Are we getting anyone in exchange?" he asked, frowning a bit at her words.

"There are several candidates," Piggot waved dismissively. "I've emailed them to you. Look them over and submit your suggestions. Or have Miss Militia do it, if you are bent on continuing your absurd investigation."

He grimaced, but was careful to not let it show. "It will be seen to."

"Good," she took some of the papers down from a stack and began sorting through them. "Now that we've settled those issues, we need to go over the current status of the gangs. You've been… busy, but there's rumors beginning to circulate that Lung is looking to recruit…"

~~~~~~~~​

I was rid of Sophia.

The thought made me want to throw my arms up and cheer out loud. It had cost me a headache Friday night that took a while to go away, but I had been able to see what I would find out if I went snooping in the office at Winslow. She was being withdrawn due to moving out of the area.

They had apparently shipped her off somewhere. I thought about trying to figure out where but I decided I really didn't care in the end. Sophia was gone. That was enough. I still had to deal with one problem. Emma. But that could wait until Monday.

Maybe two problems. I didn't know what was going on with Madison and I wasn't sure I cared, but ignoring things hadn't worked, so maybe it was something I would have to keep an eye out for.

Right now, though, I was simply enjoying the weekend while I navigated the rows of tiny shops. I had my hair tucked up in a cap and an old coat on. The sky was mostly clear, but it was colder than usual, enough that the heavy coat fought off the chill quite nicely.

That it also hid the backpack I was wearing, though there wasn't much in it at the moment. My notebook and most of the money I had put away. I knew what I was going to do with it now. If I could find the place I was looking for. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, with rows of small shops, but it wasn't far from some less pleasant areas.

I guess it made rent cheap, which is why she had it here, I guessed. But there were a lot of different shops here. Antiques, craft shops. They were all starting to blend together when I saw the stylized doll's face sign that was her mark.

I took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the door handle, pushing the old latch down and going inside. The interior was filled with bolts of cloth stacked haphazardly as well as stacks of loose fabric, along with several projects that I thought were in progress. I walked through the narrow aisles, eyeing the unfinished works appreciatively.

"May I help you?" a soft voice asked, carrying a note of curiosity in its question. I turned, my eyes widening at the figure in front of me not being who I had expected. She was dark-skinned, with black hair. Middle-eastern, maybe? I wasn't sure. She was wearing a cream colored dress, belted at the waist, with a scarf wound around her neck loosely. When she had spoken, it was with a pleasant accent that I couldn't quite place

"Ah, yes!" I said quickly when I realized I was staring. "I was hoping I could buy something?"

She shook her head slightly. "Parian can't take any more commissions at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Oh, no," I said. "I just need some fabric. I can work it myself easily enough." I looked around at the piles of fabric, resisting the urge to start feeling the different fabrics I could see around me to find out which would work best..

She didn't say anything for a moment as she looked at me, giving me the feeling she was expecting more out of me and no hint of what she was thinking as I shifted my feet. "Um, I have money?"

"You're a seamstress?" she asked, turning to look over some of the fabric stacked around the room.

"I'm still learning," I admitted. "It's something I enjoy and wanted to learn more about. Designing clothes, I mean."

She smiled slightly. "What are you looking for?"

"Something sturdy, that can hold up to a lot of constant use or wear and tear," I said. "In black, grey and some gold or as close to gold as you might have in yellows."

"Rather specific," she observed. "I think we might have something that works for you though." She turned to look at me intently. "Reinforced fabric is expensive though. It's not exactly cheap to make or buy...."

"I have money," I said again, expecting as much. She half-smiled and inclined her head before slipping through a curtained partition to the back of the store. I paced around the room, wishing I had thought of a better way to do this before I entered. This didn't look shady at all.

"I am so stupid," I muttered to myself, testing the texture of a skein of yarn with two fingers while I waited for her to come back.

"Will this do?" her voice said a few minutes later as she emerged bearing a bolt of undyed fabric. "It'll need to be dyed, but it fits what you wanted."

I touched the fabric, rubbing it between my fingers for a moment. "This is perfect, thank you!"

"I do have some dyes that I can offer you as well, since it isn't pre-dyed," she remarked. I nodded, digging around behind my back so I could get at my money. The young woman watched me do so, apparently amused by my contortions.

Five minutes later, the backpack was heavier and my money was significantly reduced, but I had what I needed to start designing. It was going to take a bit to make since I wanted it to be perfect and my sewing skills were rusty The heavier weight on my back did nothing to diminish my good mood as I made my way toward the bus stop so I could get home and get started.

~~~~~~~~​

"I'm telling you the stupid bitch has powers! She sees things or some bullshit like that! She did this to me!"


"Ms. Hess, please stay focused, we're discussing September twenty-fifth of last year right now, not Ms. Hebert,"

"Fuck yo-"

A click of the mouse froze the recording and the blonde girl leaned back in her chair, staring at the two open computer monitors in front of her. One showed a surly-looking black girl being interrogated, the other a transcript of that same recording, complete with notes from the interviewers.

Believes that the girl she hates is a parahuman, precognitive or able to shift luck. The conclusion came in a flash as she skimmed over the words. Her hands froze over the keyboard for a moment before one moved to the mouse and brought up another pair of screens; one with a dark haired girl, caught from a parking lot security camera as she was running, clutching a damaged backpack to her chest. The other, a file with everything she knew about the girl.

Assaulted. Her power told her as she stared at the picture, drawing conclusions from her panicked posture. Just behind her, indistinct, she thought she could make out two prone figures. Muggers. Sought to mug the girl, she escaped. Some sort of power enabled her escape?

Lisa Wilbourne clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. She needed something else, something more. She brought up another video, one her employer had provided over a week ago. The same girl, disguised, but poorly, entering a run-down convenience store. The clerk was an inattentive young man, likely stoned out of his mind, who permitted her to purchase several lottery cards.

She watched her eye the cards intently, before choosing spots to scratch off. Precognitive, or able to shift probabilities in her favor; knew where to scratch to achieve the results she wanted.

Lisa took her hands away from the keyboard, putting her face in her hands with a muttered profanity. She had to report this to him.

"I have been watching you for some time, Lisa Wilbourn, I have become aware that you are something special, and I would like to buy your services."

She exhaled as the words came to her mind again. Do what he says or eat a gun was what they really meant. But he kept a watch on her even so. If she didn't report this, he would know. He always did, somehow.

She picked up the phone by the keyboard and tapped one of the contacts, staring at the picture of the girl and committing it to memory.

"Sorry about this," she said quietly. "Maybe I'll be able to make it up to you somehow…"

The phone rang three times before he answered.

"I have information for you, boss."

--

 

[chibipoe]

2.1

February 25th, 2011, 12:34 AM.

The door refused to cooperate for a moment and Colin grimaced, too weary to even manage more than smacking his shoulder against the wood. That worked, however and he stumbled into his house, letting the case containing his equipment drop once the door was closed. A glance toward the green letters of the clock told him the time, fifteen hours earlier than where he had just been.

He stumbled toward the kitchen, grabbing a container of milk from the refrigerator. The containment systems had actually held everything inside perfectly preserved from all outward appearances. Though he had detected unusual amounts of what he had dubbed chronoton radiation in all of them and opted to simply dispose of them safely rather than test what the effects of being held in temporal stasis had on the food.

The attachment that had powered it was now settled in a corner of his lab for further study at a later date. He twisted the cap off and drank the contents in one quick motion, ignoring as some of it overflowed and dribbled down his chin.

It was a poor substitute for what he wanted right now, which was to get roaringly drunk. There was work to be done in the morning and he couldn't afford to engage in alcohol consumption. Especially given the situation he had just arrived from. Impaired judgement was already an issue and adding the effects of being inebriated on top of coming from a Simurgh battle was simply unacceptable.

The milk carton was tossed in the recycling and he wiped his chin with shirt. It needed to be washed anyway, so it was easier than grabbing a towel. He rested his hands on the counter in the middle of his kitchen, closing his eyes in an effort to shake away the vestiges of the fight. She had been driven off thanks to the efforts of Legend and Eidolon, but there was the usual worry that whatever her goal had been, they would find out later, and at the worst moment for everyone.

The casualties had been low, so that was good, but he had attended enough fights to know that wasn't truly a good thing. Colin pushed away from the counter with a disgusted sound. There was little else he could do right now. That battle was over and he was home. Resting sounded like a good idea. Tomorrow, he could visit his lab after school and work on-

The phone he had left on the stand in the hall was beeping and he stalked over to it, answering the call with a tap of a finger.

"It's me," he said brusquely.

"Colin," Dragon's voice said, sounding as weary as he felt. "Are you well?"

"Just tired," he said, moving to the living room and dropping onto the couch. He switched the phone to speaker and began unlacing his boots. "I could sleep for a couple of days."

"You're at your house," she replied. "Are you sure it's wise to be alone now?"

"Probably not," he shrugged, even though she had no way to see it. "I can process everything better in solitude though."

She was silent for a moment. "Get some rest, Colin. Don't spend the night obsessing over what happened yesterday."

"I don't intend to," he agreed. "Too much to do tomorrow. Get some rest yourself."

"I will," she said, sounding as amused as she always did when he made that suggestion to her. The phone went dark as she ended the connection and he pulled his boots off one at a time, then peeled his socks off. Dragon was right. He should rest. Tomorrow would be better. Perhaps. He rubbed his feet for a moment, then stood and started toward the shower.

Tomorrow would be better, he was sure.

* * *​

Tomorrow, he decided, was not better. He had barely slept and was on his second ridiculously sweet product that claimed it was coffee with a third waiting in the wings. He was thankful for the glasses he had decided to wear. Even though he hadn't drunk any alcohol, he felt like he had. The glasses didn't actually do anything to aid in his vision, but they did have a solution that adjusted the tint according to the amount of light around him, which did wonders with the headache he was feeling.

They did not, unfortunately, have a sound baffle, which would be a great value if it protected him from having to hear another word from the principal, who was, he decided, quite shrewish. He took another sip from his cup as she drew breath to continue her tirade.

"Absolutely unacceptable," she said. "That's what this is. You simply chose not to show up yesterday with no warning or arrangements for a substitute and now you stumble in, a day later, looking a wreck. I should have your job for this. What sort of impression are you giving, coming after having obviously spent the day drunk and being of no use to anyone."

He took another sip from his cup, looking at her. Her expression grew frustrated and she slammed a hand on the desk. "Do you have anything to say?"

Colin sighed, his patience at an end. "I've been taking note of how just how incapable you are at your job, you realize?"

"I don't know-," she began, looking affronted.

"I could write a book about what you don't know," he interrupted with the slightest touch of a condescending tone, taking another sip of his coffee. "That's neither here nor there, though. I've seen how you've not done your job. Quite frankly, I'm surprised no one else has."

"If you think you can just stand there-" Blackwell began.

He cut her off. "I could sit, if you prefer? Let me explain how this is going to work. I'm going to go to my class, dismiss whatever incompetent you've situated there and teach those students. It took a bit of searching, but I was able to find some interesting discrepancies in where both the school's budget and the PRT allotment for hosting a Ward is being spent. Would you like me to itemize them?"

Color fled her face. "You couldn't possibl-"

"I could and have. Now, if you'd like itemized lists tracking every expense and revealing exactly where you've appropriated funds for your personal use to be delivered to the Board, by all means, continue addressing me as you were before." he said. Principal Blackwell stared, her jaw working soundlessly and he continued. "To conclude, I'm done here. Stay out of my way and do your damn job properly."

He turned on his heel and left, taking another sip of the coffee. A moment later, he made a face and tossed the cup into the garbage. Perhaps he could put together something to extract the most flavor from the coffee beans he preferred without all the additions that coffee chain added to make their drinks into noxiously sweet concoctions.

"You may go now, thank you," he said perfunctorily to the substitute teacher who was failing at keeping anyone's attention whatsoever. She stared at him for a moment, then left without a word as he looked across the classroom and they all quieted at the sight of him.

"You'll have to forgive me," he began. "Yesterday was a rather bad day for a variety of reasons." He sorted through his briefcase and frowned.

"Well, it seems that I've left the lessons I had intended for today in my other briefcase," he said. "In light of that, we're going to improvise. We've discussed the dynamics of the Protectorate and the gangs such as the Empire and the ABB, but I think we should discuss something else today. They don't get noticed as much for a variety of reasons, chief among them they lack the sort of marketing teams the Protectorate have at their disposal or the infamy of the major villains. Let's discuss the independent cape scene here in Brockton Bay."

The flow of conversation changed as the students began paying attention to the topic he had proposed and he leaned against the desk, adding comments or posing questions. Perhaps tomorrow wasn't as bad as he had feared.

~~~~~~~~​

"We were thinking of going to the mall, want to tag along?" Catherine asked as we walked out of the school for the day. I glanced over at her and Minako and reluctantly shook my head.

"I would, but I've got something at home I need to finish working on," I told her. "Will you two be free tomorrow?"

"There is an appearance by an author I enjoy," Minako said. "She will be at Chronicles downtown to talk about and sign her latest book."

I blinked. "C. Poe, right? The Acceleration series?"

She nodded. "I am curious to see what happens with Ingrid after she left Haven. She was not well after the fight with the Malevolent Six."

"Boring," Catherine said. "I stopped reading those after she flushed any chances of Ingrid hooking up with the Weaponsmith."

I rolled my eyes. "Ingrid's a teenage girl. Weaponsmith is around thirty. That's just weird."

Catherine shrugged, looking grumpy. "Doesn't matter. They totally were in to each other."

"Pay her no mind," Minako said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She supports the oddest relationships in the books she has read. She has a first print of Shades of Darkness in her collection."

"Minako!" Catherine hissed, outraged.

I frowned. "Isn't that the one with the schoolteacher and the vampire who was like, fifteen?" I racked my brain trying to remember. It had come out a few years ago and I could remember Mom ranting about it when it was popular. There was even a movie that had been made of it, though I hadn't seen it.

"He only looked fifteen," Catherine grumbled. "He was at least as old as the teacher."

"And why he was attending high school?" I asked with a skeptical look. "Anyway, vampires can't come out in the day time anyway…"

"The author was basing it off Stoker's work," she said, sighing. "Dracula was perfectly capable of walking about in the day, he was just wasn't as powerful. As to attending school. Imagine you look fifteen forever. You can't exactly walk around doing whatever you want in the day. The police will pick you up for truancy and take you back to school. Not that I know anything about that."

I shook my head and then glanced between them, remembering something that had bugged me about the two of them. "Could I ask you two something?"

They shared a glance and then both looked at me, with Minako speaking. "What is it?"

"Well, Catherine just moved to Brockton Bay with her parents who are military," I began hesitantly. "And Minako came back after being away for a bit due to family issues. Everyone thinks you two met here at Winslow, but…"

Catherine smiled. "What I didn't mention, is this isn't the first time I've been to Brockton Bay. I knew Minako from before and we kept in touch. Soon as I heard we were coming back here, hopefully for good, I let her know."

Minako smiled slightly, glancing toward Catherine before looking back at me. "Seeing my friend again was quite a surprise. As was making a new one. That aside, if you would like to come with, we would be happy to have you along."

"I'd love to," I replied, feeling a genuine smile cross my face, then glanced to where the bus was pulling up. "I need to catch this one, so I'll meet you at Chronicles tomorrow?"

"Sounds good!" Catherine said as Minako simply nodded. "Bye, Taylor!" I waved and made my way quickly to the bus, finding a seat near the middle as the bus pulled away from the curb.

* * *​

I finished the stitch and eyed the end result critically. It had taken a lot of work, but it was done. I stepped back, settling the material of the top on the stand. It was mostly grey, though it shifted to black along where my nonexistent bust line would be if I were wearing it. Worked in gold was the emblem, an inverted triangular shape that was a heavily stylized bird in flight, its head turned to my right. The black continued upward, where the mask's empty sockets stared back at me

The grey fabric was ribbed, extra material worked into each line that reinforced it, as well, I thought with a rueful grin, gave me more of a bustline than I actually had. The pants were black and had taken a few tries to get right to work in armor beneath the fabric that wasn't apparent. A belt hung across where my hips would be, though it was little more than circle of polished chrome with numerous tiny compartments making up the belt itself.

There was still something missing, though, I thought as I quickly stripped down and changed into it. There hadn't been enough material after the first few attempts at dying to make more than this. Dying, as I found out, was quite a bit harder than I had thought. Or at least, dying and making it look good was difficult. Relearning how to work the fabric had taken a while and there was a pile of material from my my first few attempts. The cloth I had bought was sturdy enough that I might be able to use it to reinforce the as needed, but the failures weren't good for much else.

"What else…" I murmured as I worked my hair out and adjusted the mask. I had been worried that it would show too much of my face to actually serve its purpose, but the way the material compressed to hold itself in place altered the lines of my face enough that I didn't quite recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.

Inspiration struck a moment later and I grabbed the jacket that Vicky had purchased for me with her boyfriend's money. That she had still left me unsure how to respond, but it might work for this. I slipped it on and looked back at the image in the mirror and I couldn't repress the smile on my face.

Perfect.

It wasn't as fancy as some of the costumes that I had seen pictures of when I was doing research, but it was certainly a step up from just throwing on a hockey mask and beating people up with sports equipment. When I had learned about a vigilante in New York who did just that I had raised eyebrow. No one was even sure what his powers were and some people weren't even sure if he was real or not.

Well, I knew what mine were and the amount of practice with them I had been doing over the past three weeks, I felt I was ready to go out tonight. It was amazing how much I could use the telekinesis during the day and have no one know at all. Like using it to keep the weight of my backpack off my shoulders and back almost constantly, or a dozen smaller things. I turned to the left and right, scanning for any signs of seams coming undone or things I would need to mend.

I had changed back and was looking the costume over once more when I heard the side door close loudly, meaning my dad had gotten back in. I quickly packed away the costume in the hiding place I had chosen in the basement and cleaned up after myself before heading upstairs.

"Hey, Taylor, how was school?" he asked as I came out into the hall.

"Pretty good," I answered. "Good day at work?"

"Busy," he sighed, looking exhausted. "Sorry I was so late. Do you need me to fix something for dinner?"

I shook my head. "It's alright. I made a sandwich earlier after I played your message about working late." I looked at him intently for a moment, frowning. "You look tired though. You should go to bed."

He smiled for a moment, then yawned. "I might do that. Think I'll go get changed and read for a bit. Don't stay up too late, yourself."

"I won't," I said brightly, nudging him toward the stairs. He shook his head, but was soon out of sight and I went to the kitchen for a drink. I had a few hours still and planned to spend them with a book until I knew my dad was out.

* * *​

One thing that I had not been able to practice as much as I liked was moving myself with my telekinesis. I hit the gravel on the next roof and stumbled, rolling awkwardly from the force of the empowered jump and glad that I wasn't wearing some of the less-durable looking costumes I had seen pictures of. But looking back, I couldn't help but feel proud as I eyed the gap between rooftops that I had hopped across.

"Need to work on the landings though," I muttered, climbing to my feet and dusting off my hands, wincing a little. Gloves, definitely need to make some gloves. I'd been so pleased with how the outfit looked with the coat that I hadn't even thought of that.

For all the gangs in Brockton Bay, apparently they all took friday night off. I had been traveling around the edges of Merchant territory, hoping to find a few of them doing something, anything, that I could stop them for, and come up with nothing in the hour and a half I had been out.

Still, I thought as I lined up and jumped for the next roof. It was at least letting me practice moving myself with my powers. The next landing, I still stumbled, but at least I didn't roll halfway across the roof.

Or crash into an air conditioning unit. Mortification still lingered as I remembered my first rooftop jump. My shoulder still ached a bit from that embarrassing fumble. Several more rooftops and I had a better handle on it and was able to keep my footing, even if I hadn't gotten the hang of managing my own momentum if I tried a running jump like you saw in videos or on tv.

Twenty minutes later and I had reached the end of what I had roughly figured was Merchant territory and I sighed. Nothing. I hadn't found a single person doing anything that could be considered a crime. I hadn't even found anyone jaywalking! I carefully slowed my descent to the ground from the roof I had been on. Maybe I was just missing everything by being up on the roofs?

A muffled voice and someone cursing drew my attention and I looked around, spotting three men illuminated by a streetlight across the street. All three looked shabby and turned in my direction before breaking down a nearby alley.

"Oh, for th-" I began, then raised my voice in what I hoped was a stern command. "Stop!"

They didn't. Of course they didn't.

I glanced at the building beside the alley they had gone down. I let my precognition turn on and took off at a run. A few steps and I jumped, using my telekinesis to propel myself forward and up onto the roof of the building. I stumbled a bit, but kept standing and I almost cheered, before taking off in pursuit as I saw where they were going. A van parked two blocks away, the sliding door open for easy entry. One other person inside, looking bored in the driver's seat.

I couldn't let them reach the van and I saw a way to block them as another tk-fueled jump carried me to across to another rooftop. I had managed to get ahead of them, just. Now if I could…

The dumpster near the opening of the alleyway that they were angling for wrenched sideways abruptly, blocking the opening with a thud. Cries of dismay sounded from the men and I backtracked a bit, dropping to the ground so that they were caught between me and the dumpster.

I eyed them for a moment. There was less light here, so I couldn't make out too many details, but one of them was clutching a bag close to his chest. Something valuable, I guessed. Maybe drugs?

"Fucking cape," one of them said boldly. "We weren't doing nothin'!"

"Then why did you run?" I asked, alert for them to try anything. The speaker moved first, charging at me with a short club he had been concealing. I used my telekinesis and hooked it like a rope around one of his feet, sending him sprawling awkwardly. He got up quickly, though, as the second one snatched up a broken bottle from the trash in the alley and waved it menacingly.

It wasn't necessary, but I found it easiest to use a gesture as a guide and I did so, shoving him against the wall shoulder first. The bottle fell from his hand and shattered to pieces on the pavement. Another movement and I shoved his jacket down his arms, twisting the sleeves with my power. It took a moment to knot them together and with it still zipped in front, he, at least, was caught.

The first one had produced a sharpened piece of metal that was fixed to some wood with what I thought was a leather cord. He yelled something I couldn't make sense of and charged again. I shoved him back and yanked the makeshift knife free from his hand, sending it skittering off behind me.

"I'm guessing those are drugs," I said, looking at the third man and ripping the bag away from him. I let it land off to one side of the dumpster as I focused on quickly weaving his shoelaces together tightly. When he started to run, he pitched forward. I saw the glint of his belt buckle at his waist and pulled the belt free, snapping it around the other man's wrists and tightening it. Another moment and I nudged all three against the wall away from the bag.

They were secured and I was confident they weren't going to be getting away, so I crouched down to check the bag, letting my precog go for the moment. The alleyway was blocked and they were subdued.

"Looks like I was right," I said, eyeing the mix of cash and plastic bags containing what I was sure were drugs. Cocaine, maybe? Something else? I didn't know what the popular drugs were now and I was pretty sure there was a cape out there who made drugs as his cape power.

I used my telekinesis to zip the bag closed and stood. "Well, if I were a police officer, I'd read you your rights, but I guess I'll just let them do that, since you guys aren't going anywhere." One of them swore at me to do something that I wasn't even sure was physically possible and I just shook my head, reaching into my jacket's inner pocket for the cell phone I had there.

The heavy plastic lid of the dumpster shook and I felt my precognition flare up, giving me a view of what was about to happen a half-second before it did. The fourth man from the van slammed into me, driving me against the wall. The back of my head cracked against it and I saw stars as my phone skidded across the pavement out of reach.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall again, though I avoided hitting my head a second time.

"Fucking bitch," he snarled and dropped me, a kick aimed at my side. The costume worked as I had hoped and absorbed most of it, but the air fled my lungs nonetheless. I had to get some distance between me and them!

"Get…away!" I shouted, throwing up my hands as he reached for me again. My telekinesis surged outward in every direction, shoving the man back into the other three. I heard a screeching, then a loud thud and screeching metal. The wall behind me even gave against my back.

Gasping for breath, I pushed my feet around, trying to stand, though they didn't want to cooperate. The guy was stirring and I saw he was going to get to his feet first. My foresight saw him reaching for me… and then he was gone.

"Wha-" I began, confused as he stood and then something blurred across my vision, almost too fast for me to see. The Merchant was laying in a heap halfway down the alley and there was a figure half crouched there, arm outstretched for a punch. She had a cape covering one shoulder, and a white dress that shone even in the dimly lit alley way. A tiara with spikes radiating from it was visible nestled in her blonde hair as she straightened, her back to me.

Glory Girl. One of New Wave's second generation.

"Well, that was fun," she said in a voice that I was certain I knew. "Worthless trash." Her arms moved in a way that suggested she was dusting them off before she turned around and walked toward me. The three men had recovered, and were trying to push themselves against the way or scramble away from her. She knelt and flicked her finger at each in turn, apparently knocking them out while I fumbled around and found my phone, which had survived the fall with only a few scratches.

"As for you, nice to see another girl out doing this" she said, leaning down and the light from the street came across her face. "Are you hurt?"

It was a face I knew well and I blinked several times, my head still pounding from when I had hit the wall. What was… why was she… Her hand caught mine in a firm grip and she helped me to my feet.

"V-Vicky?" I stammered, not quite sure that what I was seeing was real. Vicky was… Glory Girl? Oh. Of course. Vicky was short for Victoria. As in Victoria Dallon. How the hell had I missed that?

Her expression dimmed and she let go of my hand to cross her arms. "That is my name, but I don't think we've been introduced for you to be using my name…" She peered at me for a moment and her eyes widened in realization. "That jacket… Taylor?!"

My first night out and I've already blown my identity. Wonderful.

~~~~~~~~​

Victoria Dallon sighed mentally as the police packed the men into their car. Nearby, trying so hard to not look like a deer caught in the headlights, Taylor stood, giving a statement to the police. Taylor, the girl she had met at the mall was a cape. Dean had told her that there was suspicion that she was but they didn't have proof.

But now she did and she closed her eyes, frustrated. No. She had proof, but this was Taylor's secret. She didn't have the right to tell Dean anymore than she had the right to tell Taylor that Dean was a cape. Not everyone subscribed to New Wave's philosophy and as much as she sometimes wished they did, she knew quite well that the idea of openly admitting to being a cape brought its own set of problems.

Sighing again, she moved over to where the police officer was talking to Taylor, the conversation becoming clearer as she got closer.

"Alright, I think that's almost everything I need," he said, looking down at his paperwork. "Just one thing. What name would you like listed here?"

"I hadn't picked one yet, actually" Taylor admitted, clearly caught off guard by the question. Vicky looked her over, her eyes fixing for a moment on the emblem just below her throat and she grinned as an idea struck her. It looked somewhat like the bird symbols she had seen when studying Central and South American history, only more stylized. What had the name been… Oh. Something unpronounceable, she remembered and wracked her brain for something else.

"It's her first night out," Glory Girl said, drawing their attention. "So, go easy on her, Terry. How about Sirin?"

"That's… Russian," she saw Taylor frown, mulling it over. "That can do for now."

The officer smiled and tipped his cap in the newly christened cape's direction. "Well, she's in good company. Good showing for a first night out, Sirin."

"Thank you," Taylor said almost inaudibly, clearly overwhelmed.

"Do you need a lift anywhere?" Vicky asked as the police officer moved away. Taylor, or rather, Sirin, shook her head as the question sunk in.

"Oh, no, I can travel on my own," She pushed away from the wall and then slowly rose from the ground. Vicky felt her grin return as she watched the girl rise to the level of the roof and then step onto it. Shifting her legs, Glory Girl took flight and was on the roof as well, or hovering above it rotating in a lazy circle around Taylor.

"So, you're a cape," she said as the other girl stared at her with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her lower lip jutting out slightly in what was clearly a pout. "This is the first ti-"

She cut off as Vicky looped around, hovering upside down in front of her friend. "Taylor, I'd recognize the the very expensive coat I bought you anywhere."

"Dean bought, you mean," was the correction and then she realized what she had said and sighed. "Fine. Would you believe I didn't even connect Vicky the girl I talked fashion with to Glory Girl until I saw you in costume?"

"Wait, what?" Glory Girl squawked as Taylor stepped around her and took a leap across to the next roof, moving at a pretty steady clip. She corrected her position and flew after the other girl. "How could you not? I'm kind of famous, you know?"

"You never gave your last name and I had a lot on my mind," she answered with a shrug as they crossed several more rooftops. "And anyway, now that I think about it, I should have known, but whatever. I didn't make friends with Glory Girl. I made friends with a girl named Vicky."

Glory Girl slowed down a bit, digesting that before speeding up. "You know I'm Glory Girl, right?"

"Now, yes," Taylor asked as if it were obvious then she looked away for a second. "But I didn't keep your number and call you to hang out because of that."

"Oh, please" Vicky said, waving a hand absently. "I didn't think that at all. I did think it strange that you didn't seem to have the same amount of awe at meeting a local celebrity that others have, though…"

"You've got some sort of aura, right?" she asked, frowning. "I guess I'm immune? I thought I'd figured out my powers but…"

"You got them back in January, right?" Vicky asked, turning in a corkscrew as she flew alongside Taylor, whose expression darkened in response to the question.

"If you must know, yes," she said with a grunt as she landed on the next roof. "I'd prefer not to talk about it."

Coming to a halt, Glory Girl thought of something. "Wait... was the giant bird your doing?"

"No," she answered. "I can't do anything with fire that I've been able to tell."

"Ah, geez," Vicky said, frowning. "And I gave you a bird themed name. They might still try connecting that to cape-you."

Taylor shrugged, but gave no other obvious physical indication of her mood. "I can't do fire, so I'm not worried about that too much. Don't worry about it, Vicky."

"If you're sure…" Vicky said, then frowned. "You looked like you got rocked pretty hard back there. Are you sure you're okay? I can get my sister to patch you up…"

"I'm alright, I think," Taylor replied. "It didn't do much more than make me see stars for a few. Might have been bad if you hadn't shown up."

"I doubt it," Glory Girl contradicted. "You put that dumpster all the way out in the middle of the street, so I think you'd have handled them without my help. Was that just strength or…?"

"Telekinesis," she said after a moment. "I've been practicing with it for a while now. It's how I'm doing this." She launched across to another roof as Vicky kept pace easily.

"Really?" She made another lazy loop around Taylor, almost giggling at the irritated look the other girl threw her. "Tell you what, race you to Captain's Hill."

Taylor eyed her. "I can't fly properly yet, so that isn't even fair."

"Yet?" Glory Girl grinned. "You've tried?"

"I tried once," she admitted. "It isn't as easy as it seems."

"What, you just will yourself in the direction you want to go and then go? That's what I do." Vicky said.

Taylor looked over at her. "No. I use my power to lift and move forward. It's… like moving in a car, but there's no car. I tried, but I don't have a lot of room to practic- Hey!" She dodged out of the way of the half-hearted swat Glory Girl aimed her way.

"We're out at night, there's no one around. All the practice you could want," she explained.

"And if I screw up and fall?" Taylor asked.

"Then I'll catch you," Glory Girl said, then grinned, adding challenge to her voice. "Come on, Sirin, time to learn to fly."

Something sparked in her friend's eyes and a steely note echoed in her voice. "You're on. Try and keep up." She took a step and rocketed away, the roof's surface cratering slightly from her launching herself into the air. Glory Girl watched her soar off, then smirked as it turned into sort of helpless flopping as she began to arc toward the ground. Cheering, she let the wind ruffle her hair and launched forward to keep the rookie from hurting herself.

~~~~~~~~​

"The biggest thing is to keep aware of how fast you're moving," Glory Girl said as we sat on the edge of the concrete wall that guarded pedestrians against falling down the sheer hillside. "You have to give that a lot more attention than I do since I just will myself to go and stop. Using your car metaphor, if you stop too abruptly, you could go flying as your car comes to a halt. Or worse, you try to but don't. Whiplash can be nasty." She pulled one leg up, holding it in place with her hands at her knee.

"I would say you might try less controlling your own body and more on just focusing to fly and shifting for control. Flying is actually really easy, but if you're overthinking it, you might be making it harder than you need to." she finished.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said with a wry grin, stretching my arms above my head. "I should probably get home though before it gets any later."

"Yeah, me too," Vicky said. "Mom gets all disapproving if I'm out too late, not to mention my sister worries." She pushed away from the wall with her hips and floated in the air. "Give me a call whenever you want someone to hang out with while doing this!" She twisted and then rocketed off with a wave.

I stretched my arms again and pushed off as well, moving at a much slower pace toward home. I made it there in minutes versus the half hour it would have taken on foot and slipped in through the window I had left open after checking that all the lights were out on the houses around us. A telekinetic push and the window closed behind me.

After I changed out of my costume and examined it for any signs of anything that might need repair, I relaxed a little. There was some cleaning that needed done, but no seams had burst that I could tell and nothing had torn. I tucked it away in a hiding place in my room and quietly went downstairs. Dad's door was partially ajar and I could hear him snoring, so I took care to make as little noise as I could, even floating so that none of the steps squeaked.

A sandwich and something to drink eased the hunger that all my running had worked up and I grabbed a blanket. If I kept the volume low, I could watch a cheesy movie or two, feeling too wired to sleep. I stretched out on the couch and reached for the remote, beginning to flip through channels.

The next thing I knew, there was someone knocking loudly at the door and nearly fell onto the floor as I tried to untangle from the blankets. I glanced the nearest clock. Nine am. Why hadn't dad answered the door? Was he still asleep?

The insistent pounding sounded again and I crossed toward the door, carefully working my fingers through my hair to untangle it. When I peeked through the curtains on either side of the door, I felt any vestiges of sleep flee.

"Mr. Barnes," I said as politely as I could when I opened the door. "I'm sorry, I don't think my dad's up yet." He blinked and it took a moment before he said anything, like he didn't recognize me. I took a moment and looked him over quickly, noting that his suit looked rumpled and his eyes were slightly bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in a while.

"Taylor?" he asked. "I… is Emma here?"

What.

"No…" I said slowly. "Emma and I haven't exactly been friends for a while now."

His expression crumpled and he took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, thank you…"

"What's wrong?" I asked, halting him in the act of turning away. "Why would you look for Emma here?"

"She snuck out sometime yesterday," he said after a moment. "I don't know when, but I've been out looking for her since. I've tried everywhere I can think of… this was a long shot, but I had to try."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes, but the last time I saw Emma was earlier in the week. Thursday, I think. Maybe Friday, but that was at a distance." He nodded slightly and turned his gaze to the floor of our porch.

"I need to keep looking," he murmured. "If you hear from her, I know it's unlikely, could you let me know, please?"

I took a deep breath. "Mr. Barnes, I don't know how much you're aware of, but given the way things have been between us, I'm the last person Emma would run to. Even if she did come here… I can't say I wouldn't slam the door in her face."

I had his attention now but I couldn't tell what he was thinking and I was reluctant to try and see what he was thinking. Just standing this close had me wanting to back up, his worry for Emma was that strong.

"I know," he murmured. "After I talked to that teacher, I sat down with Emma for a very long talk. I didn't want to come here because apologies from me for what my daughter's done are more or less meaningless. For what it's worth, though, I am sorry for what she did."

I blinked, stunned at his words. When I didn't speak, he nodded and made a gesture that was a half-wave. "Take care of yourself, Taylor. Don't worry Danny by running off without a word, okay?"

"Mr. Barnes," my voice stopped him halfway to the sidewalk. I couldn't believe what I was about to say. "If you'll give me a moment and I'll help you look for her. There's some places I know that she used to like. Maybe she's there?"

I wanted to cringe at how relieved he look at my offer even as I held back that if she was there, I doubted her reaction to seeing me was going to be a positive one. "I just have to change and leave a note for my dad."

I was halfway through the note when it hit me that I didn't need to physically search.

Where can I find Emma Barnes? The thought triggered something and I felt it stretch out. I had found that I retained what each person felt like to my telepathy and I could see, for lack of a better word, more people than I could easily count slipped past my awareness.

There.

Nestled amid a lot of other people, I found Emma, with several other people immediately around her and others nearby. Almost spaced evenly apart, if I understood what I was feeling right. Rooms, maybe? I couldn't physically see, so it was more like a layout of lights, each one representing a person.

I looked around, trying to get some idea of where this was from just what I could see in my mind. I saw several people gathered around another, whose light abruptly went out and the colors of the people's lights changed in response.

A hospital. It had to be.

The pen fell from my hands and I left it there, turning toward the front door. Mr. Barnes was on the porch still and I grabbed my shoes, wondering how to tell him that.

He was staring at his phone when I came outside and from the look on his face, I realized I didn't have to.

"That was.." he began, but trailed off as if he couldn't form words.

"Come on, Mr. Barnes," I said gently. "Let's go to the hospital."

* * *​

Mr. Barnes was talking to the doctors in the hallway, who had led him outside of the room. From what I had overheard, she had been near ABB territory and been attacked. They weren't entirely sure what had happened as she had come in unconscious and hadn't woken up yet. The location they mentioned her being near seemed to mean something to him, but I didn't know of any places she used to hang out at near there.

I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, then looked at the medical equipment around the room before coming back to Emma. Her face was a motley mix of purple and her green, bruises dotting it and one eye swollen shut.

The equipment beeped steadily, indicating that she had a steady heartbeat, so that was good, at least.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I muttered. "I wanted you to stop, but why would you do whatever caused this?" I didn't know how to feel, seeing her like this. The events of a few weeks ago had basically wrecked her social standing but I couldn't understand what had driven her to this.

I exhaled, looking around the room. Damnit. I didn't care about her, about this. She had chosen to turn on me, to torment me. I should be glad she was like this. It was only fair, right? She wrecked my life and that came back on her. But I just felt unhappy at seeing this, not even a trace of any sort of happiness. Not even the vindictive, spiteful kind that she had all those times she had tried to tear me down.

"Damnit, Emma," I muttered again, blinking several times to ease the sudden stinging in my eyes. I was not going to cry over this, over her.

A hand brushed mine and I almost jumped as too-warm fingers closed around mine. Emma's not swollen eye was open, squinting at me. Her fingers squeezed for a second.

"Tuh-Taylor?" she said, the words slurred and confused.

"Yeah, it's me, Ems," I said, the nickname coming out of an old habit that had fallen to disuse.

"I'm suh-sorry," her hand squeezed mine again before going limp as her eye closed. I stared for a moment, unsure how to respond. A glance at the monitors showed a steady heartrate, so the momentary spike of panic faded quickly.

"Me too, Ems," I said after a moment, giving her hand a squeeze in return. She didn't react, unconscious or asleep again and I turned to leave the room. "I wish I knew for sure that you were as well."

The doctor was walking away when I came out and I glanced toward Mr. Barnes, who approached quickly.

"The doctor said the report they had gotten from the police was that she tried to stop some gang members from mugging someone," he explained. "There were too many of them though."

"She woke up for a moment," I told him when he paused. "You should go be there when she wakes up again."

"Did she say anything?" he asked, glancing toward the half-closed door.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Her eye opened and she moved her hand for a moment, then she was out again."

"I called my wife," he said. "She's on the way with Emma's sister. I… Thank you for sitting with her while I was talking to the Doctor, Taylor. I can give you a ride home once they're here..."

"Just take care of her, Mr. Barnes," I said. "Go on. I can catch the bus home." The relief on his face was staggering and he gave my shoulder a squeeze before heading into the room where Emma was.

I stared at the door for a moment before starting down the hall toward the elevators. I needed to get away from here. The sound like water in the back of my mind gurgled and moaned painfully, the thoughts of everyone around me almost like a pressure against my own thoughts. There, a cluster of people radiating grief, another projecting disbelief.

I brushed past a girl or woman in a white outfit and muttered an apology from almost crashing into her before ducking into the elevator. I remembered the signing that promised I would go to with Catherine and Minako with a frown. I could flake on them, as I wasn't in the mood for that now. The elevator dinged and I made a beeline for the exit, my decision made. I needed something happy right now and that might just be it.

--

 

[chibipoe]

2.2

2:53 pm, February 26th, 2011

Chronicles was an immense bookstore that had taken over most of what used to be a warehouse in the older part of downtown. It had multiple floors and sections for various genres that were large enough to be bookstores in their own right. It had endured the countless chains try and run it out of business only to stay standing when they failed, remaining strong when they went bankrupt. It was almost as much a landmark as the fried chicken restaurant with it's enormous chicken with an animatronic beak that sat along one of the main roads into or out of Brockton.

People gave directions by both. Two miles past the Big Chicken, or two blocks from Chronicles. They had both been in Brockton Bay for as long as I could remember. Still, I hadn't been to the store in several years and I stared up the steps leading to its corner entrance for a moment before looking around for Catherine and Minako.

I spotted them both inside and entered, navigating through the throng of people that were here for the signing, closing my eyes for a moment while I focused to block out the enthusiasm and excitement that permeated the area.

"Hi," I said when I reached them, feeling awkward as the walk around town before coming here hadn't helped the mood I had left the hospital in.

"Something wrong?" Catherine asked.

I shrugged. "Just a bad morning that I'm not sure how to deal with it."

"Well," Minako said. "Permit me to get this signed and if you wish, we can discuss it over ice cream. If you do not wish, we can still have ice cream."

I half-smiled for a moment before it faded. "That might be nice."

"Go get your book signed," Catherine told Minako, slinging an arm around my shoulders and waving Minako off with her other hand. "I'll keep Taylor company while you do."

Minako nodded and moved away toward where I could see a tall brunette talking animatedly to a group of people. Catherine released my shoulders and gave me a serious look.

"Truthfully, are you okay?" she asked. "You look pretty down."

I shook my head, looking anywhere but at her as I considered the question. "I don't honestly know. Today… Emma…"

"You had more trouble with her?" Catherine asked.

"Not exactly," I said, taking a deep breath and shook my head. "Just something very unexpected and I don't know how to feel about it. Nothing that I need to bring you two down with." Cheers went up behind me and I turned to see the brunette stepping into a platform and beginning to address the crowd.

"Thanks for coming, everyone, and just… wow, so many people," she said. "I'm, as you might guess, Christa Poe, the author of Acceleration and its sequels. Things got a little jumbled since my flight was delayed because of recent events, so I'm going to start with getting to everyone who has books for me to sign first and then we'll get to the questions. There's a line forming here, I think… right here, yes?"

I watched as she pulled the microphone away from her mouth to talk to one of the bookstore staff, arranging people in a line before sitting down. The signing moved quickly after that and Minako returned, face flushed with excitement and holding her signed copies.

"We can skip on ice cream if you want to stick around for her talking," I said, not wanting to keep her from something she clearly enjoyed.

Minako shook her head. "I have her latest book. She is planning to talk about the one after this and likely to read from it. I do not wish to be spoiled, so we can go. Also…" Minako tucked one of the books into her satchel carefully and extended the others out to Catherine and I.

"Ah, geez, Mina," Catherine said, but accepted the book. "Why'd you go and do this?"

"You are my friends," she said simply.

I stared at the book she had placed in my hands and opened the cover, curious to see what I would find.

Taylor, never give up chasing your dreams. Enjoy the story! ~Christa Poe. Beside her name was a tiny hand-drawn raven.

"Thank you," I said simply with a small, thankful smile before closing the book. Minako ducked her head shyly in acknowledgement.

"Okay, ice cream, then?" Catherine asked, putting her own book away. "Is Frozen Stone still open?"

"That's over near Fugly Bob's, right?" I asked. "I think so. It'll take a bit to get over there, though."

"We have time," Minako interjected. "Shall we go, then?"

I nodded and tucked the book into my messenger bag. "Ice cream sounds good, yeah. Let's go."

* * *​

The boardwalk was bustling when we arrived and I smiled a bit at the way the sun shone off the water. It was actually very pretty and even the eyesore of the Boat Graveyard in the distance didn't detract too much from it. I turned away from the view and looked in the direction of the ice cream shop that Catherine had mentioned.

There were an awful lot of people between us and there, I noticed again and frowned. The Enforcers were around but there were still plenty of instances of pickpockets and the like. Remembering the night before and what had nearly happened because I wasn't using my powers to keep an eye out, I nudged my foresight into the on setting. Just a few minutes between where we were and the shop wouldn't hurt, and it was good practice.

"You are impossibly good at moving in a crowd," Catherine said in my ear as I led the way toward the shop, guiding us through the crowd without becoming bogged down by people randomly stopping to stare at something or take pictures.

"Just lucky," I said, glancing back toward her. As I did so, I saw a man moving with the flow of people, how his course would line up with mine and he would go for Catherine's purse before taking advantage of an opening to vanish into the crowd.

"So, I was thinking," I said, turning to face her while walking backwards for a moment. "You guys want to come over for dinner sometime? It's been awhile since I've had anyone over…"

"I would not object," Minako said.

"I'm game," Catherine murmured, then gave me an odd look. "Are you sure you should walk like that? You could trip…"

"You're probably right," I said, shrugging and turning back around. Three more steps… now. I spun back around, throwing my arm wide as I did so. "So, what kind of food do you guys like so I can plan what to get my dad to fix? Oh, sorry!" The side of my hand near my pinkie smacked against his wrist, deflecting the grab. My eyes met his and he muttered a profanity before shoving someone to his left and taking off.

"Did he just…" Catherine began, scowling. "He tried to grab my purse!"

"Huh," I shrugged. "Guess that was lucky on my pa-"

* * *​

I paused with my spoon in my mouth, frowning as the scene flooded into my head abruptly. What the hell was that? Nothing like that happened on the way to the shop. Did I have some sort of retrocognition that showed what could have been as well as precognition?

"Earth to Taylor," I heard fingers snapping and blinked, focusing on Catherine. "You alright? You just spaced out on us."

"Oh, sorry," I said, putting the spoon down in the mostly empty plastic bowl. "Sorry, still trying to figure out this thing from this morning."

"Are you sure you do not wish to talk about it?" Minako asked gently. "We can tell it has upset you, after all."

I took hold of the spoon again, scraping away at the last bits of ice cream, mulling the question over. The two of them had been straight with me so far and they had helped a lot with the Sophia thing. I hadn't told them much about the root of the problems with Emma and Sophia, but they had still helped without having any obligation to do so.

The rest of my ice cream was finished off and I took a deep breath. Feet first, Taylor. "Well, this morning, I got an unexpected visitor…"

~~~~~~~~​

There were some days, Victoria Dallon thought, that she really disliked the fact that most people who had powers hid who they were from the general public. She understood why, but at the same time, it created situations like the one she was in now now.

"Everything alright, Vicky?" her cousin asked as they dealt with a group of vandals who had gotten their hands on tinker-produced spray painting gear and defaced several places across town. When the law firm that her mom worked at had been one of them, she had gone out with her cousins to track them down.

"Oh, everything's fine," she said airily. "You know that I'm just glorious."

Crystal snorted and gave her a disbelieving look. "That was bad and you should feel bad."

"Yeah, you do seem a bit out of it," Eric said. "You're usually the first to be punching their lights out."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Maybe. Yes, I am fine."

"We're done here, so let's go find somewhere else to be," Crystal said. "And Vicky? Tell someone who didn't grow up with you that you're fine. They might believe it."

"You do tend to space out when you're worrying about something you can't punch," Eric interjected.

"You're both ganging up on me," she groused with a half-hearted glare. "Fine. Let's go find something to eat." She didn't wait for either to reply, taking flight and putting distance between them quickly.

Eric exchanged a look with his sister. "I'm guessing we're having hamburgers. Fugly Bob's?"

"Fugly Bob's," she said with a sigh.

Fifteen minutes later and they were in normal clothes, tucked into a booth with their cousin, who was devouring one of the larger burgers hungrily.

"Geez, Vick," Eric said. "I don't think it's going to walk away if you take your time."

She gave him an irritated look and then took a drink of her soda before reaching for some fries, only to find Crystal's hand blocking her.

"Ok, spacing out and bingeing," she said. "Something's bothering you. Is it about last night when you were out? Did you and Dean have a fight on patrol?"

"I didn't go on patrol with Dean last night," she muttered. "And we didn't fight either, before you ask."

"You didn't go on patrol with Dean," Eric pointed out. "Was there someone else? Are you patrolling with other people behind his back?"

"That isn't funny," she snapped, glaring at her cousin before sighing. "I helped out a new cape on her first night out."

The cousins shared a look. "That doesn't seem like something to be this worked up over."

"It's complicated," she said.

"What kind of complicated?" Crystal asked, taking the fries for herself. "Complicated, as you put it, could mean almost anything"

Victoria bit her lip. "The kind of complicated that isn't mine to tell, okay? Not to you guys, not to Dean…"

Crystal glanced at her brother, then looked around quickly before holding a hand over the top of her face. "This kind of complicated?"

"You look stupid like that," she replied. "And yes, exactly like that."

"Seems pretty simple," Eric said. "You know something Dean doesn't, I'm guessing. Tell him."

"Don't be silly, Eric," Crystal contradicted. "If it is what she said, she can't just tell Dean. It isn't her secret to tell!"

"If it's something that is worrying her this much, it might have to be," he said calmly.

Victoria winced. "Let's say that Dean mentioned some investigations into a person when we were… talking." She ignored Eric's snort and went on. "And that person hasn't done anything wrong, but I found out something that confirms the thing they're investigating. Sort of."

Crystal frowned. "Is this a bad thing?"

Vicky shook her head. "No! Well, I don't think so. I don't see how it could be. But telling Dean would break a rule. The whole thing is ready to turn into a mess if it goes wrong, and I don't want it to."

"I assume this isn't something you can't just put them in the same place to talk about?" Eric asked, frowning.

"No," Victoria said with a bitter laugh. "That would be breaking rules twice over. The only way to resolve this would be if everyone involved were a Ward."

"Vicky," Crystal began, looking thoughtful. "Are you sure that keeping this secret isn't dangerous?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No, it isn't."

"Then I think you should keep your friend's secret, if that is who this person is to you," she finished.

"Wait a minute," Eric interrupted. "We aren't big on keeping secrets. This does not sound cool at all."

"Our own secrets, Eric," Crystal said, her voice a touch chilly. "But being part of New Wave doesn't mean we run around giving out everyone else's secrets, if we learn them. We can't force people to take our view of things."

"I'm going to go flying," Vicky said abruptly, tossing some money on the table for her food. "To clear my head and think about this. Thanks for listening, you two." Ignoring the developing argument behind her, she made for the exist and took off as soon as she was outside.

Dean had mentioned how he hadn't been able to pick anything up from Taylor at all back during their meeting at the mall and suspected that she was a cape, but he had, with persuasion, told her that the testing they had done after the incident at her school had said she wasn't a cape.

He had reported that, she knew, but he hadn't said anything else since. Now, she knew conclusively that Taylor was a cape. Telling Dean would be breaking a confidence and the very idea made her stomach churn.

"Damnit, why can't everyone just do what New Wave does," she muttered, coming to a halt above the spot where she and Taylor had sat the night before. She dropped onto the wall, fingers digging into the stone once she was seated. She knew why, logically.

Fleur.

The movement of changing from the Brockton Bay Brigade to New Wave had barely even gotten started when that happened, effectively aborting the intent right out of the gate. Even so, their parents had passed on that legacy to her, Eric and Crystal. Mostly out of inertia, as with them revealing their own identities, it would have been pathetically easy to deduce who the three of them were if they had not followed in their parent's footsteps.

So the three of them had become celebrities and gotten targets painted on their back. No one had tried, but it was something she was afraid of, that she'd go over to Aunt Sarah's and find Crystal and Eric dead one day. Knowing that Taylor was Sirin, and that the Protectorate had been investigating Taylor being a cape and were coming up with nothing, while she now had definite knowledge. But telling Dean was breaking a confidence as well as the rules that every cape who wasn't a member of New Wave lived by.

"Punching things is easy," Vicky said, grimacing. "So, I can't tell Dean because… why?" She bit her lip, kicking the wall with her feet as she considered that question. The answer came a moment later.

"Because I like her and it's nice to have a friend who doesn't have stars in their eyes when they look at me," she said aloud. "Even so, Dean's my boyfriend and I shouldn't keep something this big from him, should I?" The sun began to set as she sat there, wrestling with the dilemma before her, oblivious to anyone or anything passing by.

~~~~~~~~​

When she had agreed to fill in for Colin while he conducted his investigation at Winslow, he had neglected to tell her about just how much paperwork involved, Miss Militia thought sourly. The next time she got to spar with him, she would have to make it known how she didn't appreciate the fact quite thoroughly. Reports of every type sat before her, many of which she was convinced that other departments were handing off to get out of having to do them.

She set those to the side for looking into later. There was no reason that she could fathom that required her to sign off on routine orders of toilet paper.

Maybe one of Clockblocker's jokes? Wouldn't hurt to check at least. She considered it before looking at what was next what seemed like a never shrinking stack. She glanced at it, noting that it was a police report. Cape activity that they had been involved in, so likely one of the Independents or New Wave. Miss Militia skimmed down the page, assessing the details quickly.

Merchants, found in possession of drugs, no surprise there… Glory Girl present… new cape was primarily responsible for their apprehension? New cape? She focused on that section, grateful for once that the officers who submitted their report to the PRT had gone into some detail, though not nearly enough for her liking.

"Cape had not chosen a name yet, accepted a suggestion from Glory Girl," she read aloud. "Appeared female, dark haired, costume was black & gold with an emblem like a stylized bird of some sort on upper chest. Accepted name was Siren?"

She sat back in her chair, remembering one of the things she had spent doing in her free time. Reading was one and she considered this report against that.

"Bird-themed, so probably not referring to the Greek," she mused thoughtfully. "Russian, then." She looked back at the report, to see if there was any mention of what the new cape's powers were. Nothing beyond a comment that she apparently had some sort of flight ability. The report mentioned a dumpster out in the middle of the street, so a possible Brute rating?

"Not enough information here," she sat the report down in frustration, mulling over what to do. The police had given details, but nothing that really formed a picture of this new cape for her beyond appearance. The independent capes were one situation that she wished they didn't have to deal with. Too many who had refused membership into either the Wards or the Protectorate for whatever reasons She had even approached some of them herself and been rebuffed, often rather rudely. To add another cape to an already complex situation promised issues if she endured for any amount of time.

There were two groups among them, those who came out guns blazing and made too much of a splash, drawing the ire of one of the larger gangs and were either forcibly conscripted or never heard from again and those who kept a lower profile, sticking to small-time activities.

"Some Merchants who were coming off of an exchange," she read into it, frowning thoughtfully. Nothing that would draw immediate repercussions then, as that was likely one of many that had gone down that night. Skidmark himself was an unsavory and disgusting person, but someone in his gang was at least marginally competent and handled the details he was too wasted for.

She had wondered more than once if Skidmark wasn't simply a front for someone else, but if that was true, they were very good at covering their tracks. Miss Militia sighed and pushed worrying about that for later and returned her thoughts to the new cape. Further reading had mentioned that her and Glory Girl seemed on good terms, which was arguably a positive. The member of New Wave's second generation could be impetuous at times and another cape adopting her attitude could be problematic.

Perhaps Gallant could persuade her to arrange a meeting so that the benefits of a Wards membership could be extended. There were enough issues with how understaffed they were compared to the villains. The independents alone could outnumber them, if you considered the solo villains along with the heroes. More people could only help improve the situation, she hoped.

She typed up a quick note to Colin and sent it off about this issue with a request for his opinion on the matter, summing up all the pertinent details regarding the new cape. As much as she wished he were here in his usual position, she had to admit that the time spent posing as a teacher was doing him some good. Perhaps he would have a better perspective on the matter that helped her make a decision.

Changing screens brought up her current file on the independent parahumans within Brockton Bay where she added the new cape to the list, correcting the error in spelling that the police officer had made for her own records before adding the sparse information to the Protectorate and PRT databases. She glanced at the report once more and set it aside to be filed by her assistant, her mind turning back to the issue of how to approach this new parahuman.

A chime sounded and she saw an email response from Colin waiting to be opened. Two clicks of the mouse opened it up. Her eyebrows went up slightly at the quick response and she looked over his typically terse reply.

Hannah,

See if you can find more details on this Sirin. She had a bird-themed emblem? Perhaps our pyro is finally showing themselves? Send me whatever you can find.

Colin​

"Short and to the point as always," she shook her head and made notes of his request on her list of things to do. Perhaps she could reach out to Glory Girl personally for information. The report had said they seemed to be getting along. That would sidestep the possibility of Gallant balking at a request to try and convince his girlfriend to tell him about the new cape or arrange a meeting. It was hard to predict what teenagers would do when they didn't have powers, let alone when you did add powers into the mix.

A thought occurred to her. Colin had indicated suspicion that the suspected pyrokinetic could be this new cape. She tried to think of how many brunettes she had seen at Winslow when they had dealt with the Shadow Stalker issue.

Taylor Hebert was a brunette, she recalled with a frown. But the MRI had indicated that she lacked the extra sections of the brain that indicated parahuman status, so had been sidelined as a possible candidate. Colin had his theory that she could have obscured it somehow, but Director Piggot disagreed. Shadow Stalker's interrogation had revealed the girl was convinced that the target of her ire was a cape, but no one had given her words credence due to how obviously biased she had been towards Ms. Hebert.

She winced as she thought of the girl, remembering how poorly she had handled bringing the subject up. The girl's replies rolled around in her head for a moment, noting how she had never outright denied being one. Merely referenced the tests that had been negative to lead them toward the conclusion that she wasn't. Dean's report that he had been unable to sense anything from her when he met her while with his girlfriend flashed to the forefront of her thoughts and she blinked once.

He had mentioned that Victoria Dallon had seemed to know Taylor when they met at the mall and both appeared on good terms with one another. The new cape seemed to be on good terms with Glory Girl as well.

Miss Militia shook her head. "Colin's infecting me with his paranoia. Just because Taylor Hebert is friends with one of the Dallon's doesn't mean she's also this Sirin." She made some more notes on her computer before putting the matters of Taylor Hebert and this new cape aside in her mind. She had more paperwork to get through and fixating on one issue would not help at all.

Colin is really going to regret suckering me into doing his paperwork for him.

~~~~~~~~​

Dad had gone out with Kurt and Lacey for the evening, leaving a note for me. I skimmed over it, then dropped it back on the counter. I pulled my costume out of its hiding place and gave it a once over to see if I had missed any damages or spots that needed cleaning. I had a few hours before he would be back, so plenty of time to work on some gloves or finding a way to alter the jacket for when I went out. Perhaps something that I could fit over it with fasteners, like a vest?

I alternated between that and idly browsing the parahumans online wiki page, brushing up on what little information was there about the capes of Brockton Bay. The information there was inconsistent though. The larger groups, such as the Protectorate and the Wards team, or gangs like the Empire Eighty-Eight or the ABB were a great deal more detailed than most of the others. The independents were a mixed bag, filled with conflicting reports and in some cases, signs that people had gotten into arguments and changed the information on the various wiki entries as part of their feuding.

Putting down my work for a moment, I switched pages to the villains section. I wanted to avoid conflicts with any of the larger groups as they either had a lot of capes, like the Empire, or had people you simply did not want to mess with, like the ABB and Lung. The Merchants territory, though, bordered a lot of places where some of the lesser known villains were rumored to operate because the larger groups just didn't care.

The list was fairly large and I looked it over curiously, snorting when I saw the name Grue among them and wondered whether the person using that name was referring to the Old English or that old game it had been popularized in. I kept going until one caught my eye. Boneyard.

"Creates minions, likes to work in a small section of town, stealing from anyone that he comes across." I read aloud, resuming work on the overlay for my jacket. "Can generate them from solid surfaces, like concrete, asphalt or metal." I sat back, thinking about that. It didn't say how many, but that didn't sound like anything I couldn't deal with myself. Last night, I took down some drug dealers more or less by myself, tonight I would try for a supervillain.

My eyes fell on my phone and exhaled. Should I call Vicky and see if she would like to go out again? I gave it a moment's thought, considering what to do. I was leaning toward yes but… I didn't want her to think I needed my hand held, did I? Though, last night had shown having someone as backup could be useful, especially if things went bad.

I sent off a quick text message to see if she was up for it and got a response a moment later.

-Family wanting family time tonight. Boring and dull, but stuck with it. Watch your back tonight! I looked at the message for a moment, equal parts relieved and frustrated. I would just have to be more careful tonight, but I was going solo.

* * *​

The tips from Vicky had helped immensely. I wasn't flying the way she did yet, but I was definitely covering ground faster, and flying higher. Dad had come home and gone to bed, having apparently had quite a night out with his friends. Which had freed me to sneak out and now here I was, looking for any signs of this Boneyard character.

Maybe I should look at getting some sort of night vision goggles if I'm going to only go out at night? I made a mental note to look into what the benefits and downsides were for that before dropping to a roof nearby, checking the spots I had marked on the phone's map. This was definitely the area Boneyard liked to work in, assuming PHO could be trusted for that, but I hadn't seen a single sign of him.

"I guess I'll get a warmup in," I murmured as the sound of breaking glass on the street below showed a couple of guys keeping an eye out. A moment later, they were wrestling what looked like a TV into their truck before going back to waiting.

I thought about the night before and decided to try something different. I didn't have to get close to them after all, did I? Peering carefully over the edge and making sure that none of them were looking up, I set to work, feeling with my telekinesis to see which ones had shoes with laces. There was enough light from the streetlights for this and I tied all their laces together. They toppled with a shout when they went to take the next thing from the store. Shouts rang out and I heard glass crunch as their friends or whatever came out. They were already trying to untie the laces and I waited until the laces were undone before taking control of them again.

"My shoes are possessed!" one shouted as they found their hands caught and the laces tightening around them.

Satisfied that they were down for the moment, I looked at the other two men and yanked at their jackets, twisting the sleeves and flipping the backs of their coats over their eyes like last time. If it worked before, it was worth trying again. I smiled as it proved to be as disorienting now as it was then, though I almost fumbled zipping up one's jacket as he tried to take it off to escape.

Stealing their belts and using them to secure any hands or feet I had missed, I carefully lowered myself to the ground after confirming that there wasn't anyone lying in wait for me where I couldn't see.

"I don't think these belong to you," I said, looking at each in turn. "So that's breaking and entering, attempted theft and something else I'm sure I'm forgetting." They glared sullenly at me, but said nothing as I placed a call to the police to report this.

Thankfully, the police arrived quickly, having already been on their way thanks to a silent alarm and I got to move on after giving a brief statement. I didn't want to stay out too much later, as Dad usually got up early on Sundays and I didn't want to chance that he'd be up super early and notice I was gone.

I passed over some warehouses that had been abandoned years ago. They had sat there, unattended and left to degrade, grass growing up through the cracked pavement around them. No one had ever bought the property that I knew of and they likely were just a home for squatters now.

Only there was something else definitely going on now, as a flash of light caught my eye, followed by what sounded like a firecracker or the sound a roman candle going off. I dropped down and settled near a window for a better look and tried not to make a sound at the sight of something that looked like it came from a B-list horror movie.

There was a man balanced on a stack of broken packing crates, with four skeletons around him. Across the open space before him, there were several more skeletons, surrounding two people. I watched silently as I tried to figure out what was going on.

"Attack," the man said and skeletons surrounding the two people moved forward, raising limbs that had either clubs or blades at the ends menacingly.

"This again, Boneyard?" one of them asked, the voice identifying as female. She raised a hand and a lights flared down at her gesture, rotating through several colors like a laser light show. I got a good look at a her outfit from the illumination. The outfit looked a mix between what tv portrayed ninjas as and David Bowie in Labyrinth. It was a flamboyant, colorful outfit that almost looked like it should clash horribly, but didn't. There was a coat almost too big for her, that her hands peeked out of, revealing fingerless gloves that sparkles of light flew away from.

Dark blue, red, white and I thought some green were the most prominent colors, with a mask that covered most of her face except for her mouth and eyes. I couldn't tell what color the mask was, exactly, as it shifted colors under the light she was projecting. It was the sort of thing that would draw weird looks from in the daylight. Blonde hair in a wild style crowned the image, with a fair amount almost covering one eye and streaks of red clear under her self-created lightshow.

Almost like some of those pictures I had seen once of japanese rock group members, I thought. I hadn't cared for the music, but the effort put into some of the costumes had interested me when I first looked into designing clothes. The beams of light struck a second later and several of the skeletons shattered into pieces. What were they made of?

I found out as Boneyard raised his own hand and several new skeletons flowed up from the pavement, leaving distortions in the floor before shambling toward the duo with another command from who I could only assume was indeed Boneyard. "We can't all make pretty light shows. I'll stick with my friends since I have an unlimited supply, after all."

"Is that right?" the other one taunted and I realized they were also female. Her outfit looked more functional than her companion's showy display. Military fatigues and a reinforced jacket. The rest was probably reinforced too, if I was not mistaken. She had a pair of what looked like hi-tech earmuffs and some heavy goggles on. Like her companion, her hair was blonde, but the streaks were blue instead of red. Between her hands, something was growing, black and spherical. She flung them out without warning, and whatever it was scattered around them, falling against the skeletons.

"And what was that supposed to do?" Boneyard mocked. "Get dirt on my friends?"

"Bang," she said and I saw a spark flare from her hand. Tiny explosions erupted from all of the skeletons at their joints, the sound like a large pack of firecrackers going off in rapid succession. Nearly all of the skeletons collapsed and Boneyard swore even as more began forming from the pavement around him in response to another gesture from him. I took a moment to examine him as well, noting what looked like some black pants and a purple shirt with a black jacket. On top of that, there were… bones? He had used one of his minions as armor, I guess? A skull covered most of his face and hilariously, he had a top hat on as well.

"That was very rude, Hanabi," he yelled. "My friends don't like being treated so rough! Make 'em hurt!" The mob of skeletons all surged forward and I saw the other girl stumble and kick her leg out, trying to free it from where a skeletal hand had grabbed her ankle.

Hanabi. Which meant the other was probably Rockshow. Hadn't I seen them on the list of Independent capes? That made them heroes if I was remembering right. And this was Boneyard, so I guess they had found him first. Or he had found them? Whatever. They were outnumbered and I knew what I wanted to do.

Last night, Glory Girl helped me, I thought, and tonight, I can help someone else!

I pushed out with my telekinesis, shattering the window I had been looking through completely before propelling myself into the warehouse. I landed with the pieces of glass floating in the air around me, all eyes looking in my direction.

Letting the glass drop, I looked toward the pair of heroes, hoping that my voice kept steady as I spoke. "Mind if I tag in and help?"

--

 

[Swordomatic]

If she couldn't face the consequences of her crimes than she shouldn't have been a criminal in the first place. None of this has to do with Firebird though.

Click to shrink...

alert Last I checked this was a fanfiction thread, not a morality debate thread. Get back on topic.

 

[chibipoe]

2.3

The first person to react to my statement was Boneyard, screaming something incoherent that set his skeletons shambling forward toward me and the duo he had been fighting. I shoved several of them back and reached out toward the limb that had caught Rockshow's ankle, as well as several others that were trying to grab her and Hanabi.

An application of force and they crumbled, freeing the girl. The skeletons I had knocked down were getting up and I slammed a nearby packing crate into them, watching limbs break off.

"You think that will stop them? Me?" Boneyard shouted and the skeletons reached for the arms or legs that had come off and reattached them. It really was like a b-list horror movie.

"Well, that's new," Rockshow remarked. "Have you learned a new trick or have you just been holding out on us, Bonehead?"

"It's Boneyard!" he snapped furiously, then took a deep breath, his head moving in a way that told me he was eyeing all three of us in turn. "As much as I would like to continue playing with the two of you and your new friend, I think I'll be going now. Cheers!"

He palmed something and flung it at his feet. Smoke erupted in a cloud that filled the area around him quickly as his skeletons resumed their attacking. I tried to shove Boneyard with my telekinesis before I lost sight of him, but a skeleton ended up taking the hit instead. It crumbled and I hesitated for an instant before three more of his minions came out of the smoke.

Their heads snapped off with a shove of force, but the bodies kept moving. I backed up a step and took their legs out and they started crawling toward me, using their arms to pull forward.

"Horror movie, indeed," I muttered. How the hell did I make them stop? The first few had collapsed but I wasn't sure what I had done that made those crumble. At least I had severed their heads so they couldn't try and bite my leg off, I thought with a brief grin before shoving one away and lifting into the air.

"Like this," Rockshow called out and I saw her gliding among the ones that were left, beams of light cutting the spines of each one she passed. The skeletons collapsed into piles immediately.

I slammed my power against the spines of the ones that had been crawling toward me till nothing but dust was left, and watched them stop moving as Hanabi made the last two crumble with controlled explosions. When we were finished, and I couldn't see anything left still moving, I dropped to the ground, eyeing the two capes.

"Newbie, huh?" Rockshow asked, settling her hands in front of her, one over the other.

"Yeah, second night," I said hesitantly. "Look, sorry if my jumping in was unexpected. It looked a little unfair."

Hanabi shrugged. "There's more of them than us, really. Sharing or teaming up comes as part of the routine."

I frowned a little at that, remembering what I had seen about the ratio of heroes and villains in Brockton Bay. The villains did outnumber the heroes, so it stood to reason that anyone functioning as an independent hero would have to share when encountering. I wondered if the independent villains felt the same way when coming across heroes.

"So, got a name so that we're not calling you newbie?" Rockshow asked, drawing my attention back from my moment of distraction.

"Ah, Sirin," I said. "You're Hanabi and Rockshow, right?"

"That's us," Hanabi chirped, sounding rather cheerful for having just fought off a small army of skeletons. "Good to meet you!"

I shifted my feet and nodded. "Um… well, should we go after him?"

"Boneyard is very good at getting away," Rockshow said. "By now, he is already well out of range. There would be little point."

I nodded again, unsure of how to handle meeting two new capes. I had known Vicky and blurted her name out, giving myself away, so I didn't want to do that here.. "Well, I, um… it was nice meeting the two of you, I guess. I'll see you around?" I waved and used my powers to carry myself out through the window I had left before either could say anything. I checked the time and sighed before looking around to see if there was any sign of Boneyard.

Nothing. Guess they were right about him being good at getting away. I angled toward the direction of home, taking care not to go propel myself too high up and risk losing my bearings. Well, I had stopped those robbers, so the night wasn't a total bust, even if I didn't catch the villain I had hoped to.

Boneyard. I ran the fight over in my head, thinking if there was anything that I could have done better.

"Not leading with a smartass remark when I make an entrance, for one," I muttered. "Take out villain as you make entrance, then make cool statements." I thought of something else I had noticed and my moment of bemusement was replaced with a frown.

My powers were getting stronger. A few weeks ago, I was lifting light objects or turning faucets, now I was tossing packing crates around and shoving dumpsters halfway across the street. The raw sounds of thoughts were becoming outright feelings of emotion and physical sensations. I flushed as I remembered picking up on the feelings of a couple who were being very friendly in public when I had been out at the mall earlier in the week. That had been very distracting.

Keeping my attention on classwork was becoming difficult, too. The thoughts of the other students were a lot more clear now. There were a few exceptions, people I only picked up on if I focused, but most were as easy to pick up simply by looking in their direction. There were simply things that you did not wish to know about your classmates.

Telekinesis. Foresight. Mind Reading. I had looked online to see if there was anyone with similar powers, to see if there was someone I could discreetly send a message through Parahumans Online, but the list of capes suspected to have all three of those had been depressing, frighteningly short.

The Simurgh. Or at least that was what they thought. She definitely had telekinesis, but no one was one hundred percent if she was a cape twisted by their powers, or something else. Reading about her and some of the hate posted online though had settled one thing in mind quite firmly. I couldn't tell anyone about being able to read minds. My precognition had kicked in while I was thinking of that and gave me a headache in exchange for showing me a potential reception that reveal would get.

I didn't think I had anything to do with her, though, but the way people were likely to react was enough that I needed to keep that a secret as long as I could. I made another mental tick as my thoughts zipped back to the subject of my powers. My foresight was triggering from random thoughts too instead of just turning it on and it was taking longer before a headache showed up too.

Ducking in through my window the way I had the night before and quickly stripped out of my costume, I tucked it away in its hiding spot before pulling on a large shirt. I slipped into bed and switched on a lamp with my powers, thinking of the other part of tonight; meeting two more capes.

Hanabi and Rockshow. They had seemed nice, though they likely thought I was weird for just running off without really talking much. There had been a little about them on PHO and I made a note to look and see if there was anything else I could learn from there as I made myself comfortable.

A stray thought willed the lamp off and I was out before my head finished settling on the pillow.

~~~~~~~~​

The warehouse was silent as the clearly skittish cape flew through the opening that she had made of the windows. Hanabi stood there for a moment as the girl vanished into the night sky before walking over and nudging a piece of the glass that had decorated the floor from her entry with one foot.

"We alone?" she asked.

Rockshow tilted her head. "No one making noise but us."

"Okay then," Hanabi took a deep breath. "That was Taylor, right?"

"That's right," her partner answered. "The costume isn't bad if you don't know her, but… if you do…"

"Right," she sighed. "So, what do we do?"

"Right now?" Rockshow murmured. "We go home. Your dad is probably going to read us the riot act for going off course to chase Boneyard."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Hanabi muttered. "And mom will just stand there behind him, looking disapproving, which is worse. If we had caught Bonehead, he might have cut us some slack."

"We didn't even recover the money he stole," Rockshow murmured as she picked up one of the shards of shattered glass and examined it before looking up toward the frame it had come from. "She did not punch through, at least. Almost all of it is on the ground."

"It was moving around her when she landed. Some kind of control over glass?" Hanabi asked.

Rockshow shook her head. "I don't think so. Telekinetic, I bet."

"Telekinetic and can fly?" Hanabi asked.

"Or only telekinesis," Rockshow mused. "That she uses to fly, perhaps. I think telekinesis for sure. The crates and just slamming the spines of his friends into dust with no visible source are more evidence."

Hanabi walked over to one of the crates that Sirin had used as a weapon and tried to lift it, but it refused to even budge. "Huh. Wonder what her limit is?"

"We should go before we get even more of a lecture," Rockshow said. "We can make guesses later."

"And Taylor?" Hanabi asked.

"Talk about it after we get chewed out," Rockshow shrugged.

"You know, bringing it up so much isn't going to make it any easier to deal with," she retorted. "I think you're looking forward to getting yelled at."

"Who was it that I had to follow when she went off our route to chase Boneyard again?" was the reply. "I am simply reminding you of what we have to look forward to because of your efforts to blow him up."

"Oh, come on!" Hanabi protested as they made their way out of the warehouse. "It wouldn't have hurt him. Much." Her friend did not respond and they crossed the empty lot quickly, slipping through a gap in the fence and out onto the road.

"You already texted them, right?" Hanabi asked.

"Our ride will meet us over on Bleecker Street, near that old Doctor's office." Rockshow replied.

"Is he even practicing still?" she questioned. "He was kind of strange."

"It is abandoned," her friend shrugged. "I do not know what happened." The walk the rest of the way to Bleecker passed in silence. A van sat by their destination and they hopped in when a door slid open for them. A moment later, the door shut and the van smoothly rolled away from the curb.

"Masks off, girls," a stern voice told them and they peeled them off as instructed. Hanabi's mask and wig settled onto a seat next to Rockshow's. "Now, explain why you went off route."

Catherine Greene began working her hair free of the net it had been pinned under, looking at her dad as she did so. "That was my decision. I decided catching him was worth the risk."

Major Ryan Greene stared at his daughter. "Following him into a location that you were unfamiliar with, enclosed, which would allow your target to use his numbers to best advantage, was worth it? What is the rule on enclosed spaces?"

"Never follow someone in without knowing what's inside," she said, her dad nodding briskly in response.

"What happened then?"

"Boneyard set his minions to surround us and we were dealing with them when someone intruded," Minako answered. "A new cape. Sirin."

"Hostile or ally?" he asked immediately.

"Tentative ally," his daughter said. "She offered aid and engaged Boneyard, who retreated as normal. Provided her name and left."

Her father was silent for a moment. "We'll go over this in depth later. You're both off patrol tomorrow night though. There are reasons we decide a route in advance and you can't just charge off like that! I won't have you getting hurt. Either of you."

"Yes, sir," Minako murmured.

His expression softened and he crouched in front of them, looking at his daughter, concern clear. "You're both alright? No injuries?"

"We're fine, old man," Catherine groaned, giving his shoulder a light punch. "Though Minako squealed like a little girl when that skeleton hand grabbed her ankle."

"I did no such thing," she protested immediately, glaring at her friend. "You were-"

"Girls," Catherine's father said, his tone arresting the bickering. "Despite going off course, you both did the most important thing, you know. You both came back. So, I'm going to sit up front and pull the screen down. You two get changed. We'll be home soon." He rose from his crouch and headed toward the front of the van. A moment later, a screen lowered, giving them privacy.

Catherine glanced at her mask, poking the goggles for a moment, then at Minako. "Ok, you weren't really squealing like a little girl."

"I should think not," Minako said, bending forward to pull the gym bag that contained a change clothes from beneath the seat. "Regarding that other matter, perhaps we can approach her on Monday?"

Catherine blinked. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Perhaps," Minako smiled slightly as she began changing out of her costume. "It would be an equivalence, I think. It is one possibility. We have time to discuss it."

"Definitely that," Catherine said, grabbing her own bag to change as well. "That isn't something we should just do. Fuck, it-"

"Language!" her mother called from the driver's seat.

"Sorry, mom!" she shouted, then lowered her voice. "We don't even know for sure that was her."

"You are not that unobservant, Catherine," Minako replied, her voice muffled for a moment as she pulled a shirt on.

Sighing, the brunette nodded, undoing her gloves and stripping them off one after the other. "No, I'm not. I almost gave her away when she landed and I got a good look at her."

"It was a surprise," Minako admitted. "We can decide on a definite action tomorrow." She stretched, then released a yawn as the van made a turn and came to a stop.

"Ah, jeez, now you've got me yawning too," Catherine said, punctuating the statement with a large yawn as she tucked the rest of her costume into the gym bag. The door slid open and her dad looked at them.

"Shower, then get to bed," he said.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Catherine replied before yawning again and climbing out of the van, Minako following behind her as they made their way to the house.

~~~~~~~~​

The basement of his house was a poor substitute for his lab on the Rig. Or, rather, it had been a poor substitute. Now, it was merely a subpar substitute. A lot of effort had refitted it with at least the basic equipment in order to work. He had neglected it for a few weeks, but he needed improvements to the gear he was carrying while attending to his responsibilities as a teacher.

However, the upgrades to the basement workspace had afforded him the ability to work on things again. He eyed the finished product sitting before him, appearing to be nothing more than a sturdily built sports watch. It looked a bit larger than the average watch, which was something he would have to improve, but it contained a scaled down and simplified version of the lie-detecting equipment in his armor.

He turned his attention to the glasses that he wore as part of his cover. Some additional work and he had managed to implement a system into the frames that would circulate a current through the lenses that granted him a limited x-ray vision. It was, thankfully, only useful in detecting if someone was carrying weapons.

Colin eyed the other things on his table. A collapsible stun rod that masqueraded as his briefcase's handle, a sample of fabric that he hoped to use in all his clothing soon. The material was stab resistant and could withstand small arms fire, as well as excelling at permitting air flow and keeping cool.

Pushing thought of them aside, he tapped a console, bringing up records from his observation units as well as the recent reports from Miss Militia that he had asked for, about the new cape called Sirin. Then he brought up his journals on Winslow High School.

The situation there remained as it had been. He had nothing conclusive, whoever the cape responsible for the pyrokinetic display as well as the precog and thinker blackout might be, whether Taylor Hebert or another, they had gone to ground and there had not been another instance, of either the pyrokinesis nor had any of the Thinkers employed by the PRT or Protectorate reported any issues.

In light of the Simurgh's recent attack, there was still a lull in villain activity, but that would not last. A glance toward the screen devoted to his email showed several politely-worded requests to know when he was returning to official duty. The message in between the lines was clear. Piggot wanted him back on active duty and she was prepared to go above him to enforce that given his lack of results on this investigation.

Colin turned his attention back toward the mystery cape as well as this new cape. Miss Militia had identified the name as being sourced in Russian mythology, something to do with a bird, of which the girl had a stylized emblem of an avian of some sort. No word on powers as she had not volunteered any information. Reports from the police had a dumpster displaced into the street as well as damage to the exterior of one of the shops suggested a brute power.

Glory Girl, however, had been there and those could be attributed to her just as easily. Exhaling, he scrolled through the information before him. his thoughts racing. Despite the fact that his theory was not as widely accepted, he was certain that at least Taylor Hebert was a parahuman. The way she had responded to their questions after the Hess incident, the almost casual response to her life being in danger when Shadow Stalker had launched a crossbow bolt at her. Too many things that didn't fit. A puzzle without a border. He had pieces, but nothing that gave him a framework to make sense of them.

She had seemed opposed to the notion of becoming a Ward when Miss Militia had brought the subject up. Perhaps a different approach was in order. Sending one of the Wards as an envoy? He mulled that over for a moment and dismissed it. The issue was that Hebert didn't trust authority or anyone acting under it. It was a contempt he had inherited when he started as a replacement teacher. Given how the administration at Winslow was run, he was honestly not surprised, but it left him with a dilemma.

A distrust of authority… He rolled the idea round in his mind for a moment. Perhaps having his second approach her during the aftermath of the Hess matter was the wrong move. She didn't trust easily and a Wards member was likely to be regarded with scorn or at least distaste. Someone from outside of Brockton Bay, then? Dragon was unlikely to appreciate a request to show up just to talk to a potentially hostile teenage girl and it wasn't as if he could just bring one of the Triumvirate here.

He shook his head. "Overthinking this, Colin. Professor Singer isn't regarded well, nor is Miss Militia. The highest authority in Brockton Bay for the Protectorate is Armsmaster. He should talk to her."

Which was, he realized, easier said than done, since it would certainly draw attention that he didn't want to her to just have Armsmaster show up at her front door. He ran through several options, considering and dismissing them each in turn as his eyes skimmed over the reports from Miss Militia again.

Female, dark hair. A costume with a bird emblem. It was tenuous, but it was something. He quickly packed away his things, decisions made. A quick application of the beard in a can, a shower and he could head into the Rig to pick up his latest suit. The fabrication systems should be complete by now.

Armsmaster had a few calls to make, and one especially important one, in preparation for a surprise Ward visit to Winslow.

~~~~~~~~​

I wonder if I can test out of school… The thought drifted across my mind as I sat in Mrs. Knott's class, paying only enough attention that I didn't miss anything that she might say that was important. I gave the thought a bit of my attention, pulling up a list of requirements for that. I wasn't sure I was anywhere near ready for that, but it was interesting to know, at least. I enjoyed Mrs Knott's class as it had been a safe haven for a while and it was a subject I liked, but doing effectively nothing for ninety percent of the class was getting old. Just as soon as I started the assignment, I finished and was left with nothing more.

I half-heartedly scratched down a few additions in my notebook before going back to studying the screen. The requirements for testing out were pretty stringent and I could tell from a glance that I wasn't going to be up for them any time soon. Perhaps if I spent the summer preparing, though. Something to keep in mind, at least.

"Taylor, can you help me with this part?" Catherine asked and I glanced over at her screen to see what she was struggling with. There was only a simple text window with a note asking if I wanted to hang out at her place after school.

I made a show of looking at her screen while I thought about it and then nodded. "Looks good, actually, but sure."

One of the secretaries from the principal's office came in, handing a paper to Mrs. Knott. She looked it over and frowned, then spoke in quiet tones to the woman, looking increasingly irritated at the interruption to her class before nodding in resignation.

"Everyone," she finally said. "Please save your work and put your things away. We're having a bit of a surprise assembly, so we need everyone to go to the audience hall. Taylor, if you could accompany Ms. Grant to the office?"

"Um, sure," I said, blinking as I gathered my things. What was this about? I shoved my things into my bag and stood, heading after the secretary as she left the classroom. We were halfway to the office when the tone that signaled an intercom announcement rang out and I heard the Assistant Principal's voice drone in electronically transferred disinterest.

"Please proceed to the audience hall. The Protectorate has sent Brockton Bay's own Wards team for a presentation." I frowned as I heard that, tuning out the rest of it. A surprise visit from the Wards? The weekend after I went out for the first time? The chances of this being a coincidence felt astronomically low.

"What's this about?" I asked Ms. Grant.

"No idea, sorry," she said. "I was merely told to fetch you." I frowned and almost triggered my precognition to see what I was walking into before deciding against it. I didn't get a sense that she knew anything and was simply holding it back to spare me, so likely not involving my dad. I started running the last few days of school through my mind, trying to see if there was anything I might have done that could have made someone mad.

Nothing came to mind and I sighed quietly, hoping that this wasn't some sort of nonsense from the Principal. My attempts in the past to bring up the now ended bullying had met with dismissal and after the things I had been involved in that had brought attention down on the school, I kept expecting Blackwell to do something in retaliation.

We turned a corner and I saw the sign for the office ahead and almost reached for precognition again before stopping the attempt when Ms. Grant kept walking past the office door.

"I thought we were going to the office?" I asked, confused.

"Actually, one of the meeting rooms that are set aside for parent conferences usually," she said. "That's where I was told to bring you." She indicated a door marked as private and opened it, leading into what was clearly a small waiting area.

"Room four is where you are to go, Ms. Hebert," she told me and I nodded, the door closing behind her as she left me alone. I spied the numbers as I moved down the row of doors from the waiting room, counting off until my eyes settling on the door marked with a tarnished metal 4.

I took a deep breath and laid a hand on the door knob, feeling at least two people on the other side. One was familiar, recognizable yet new. The comparison of something solid and steely was the best description, But I couldn't say why or where I knew it from. The other was a roiling and uncertain mass of confusion and worry that I definitely knew. Why the hell was my dad here?

I shoved the door open with more force than was needed, stepping into the room to see my dad looking up with the usual worried expression that I was accustomed to on his face. The other person in the room drew my attention though, the blue and silver armor a well known fixture in Brockton Bay. Who didn't know it? I had seen him on television more than once, speaking about Protectorate issues. The helmet covered most of his face except for his mouth and chin, where a well-trimmed beard was visible.

Armsmaster in the same room with my dad, who had released a burst of relief at the sight of me, but there was still a lot of uncertainty. I pushed carefully, building a wall as best I could to block out what I was picking up from him.

"You know, dad, there are better ways to tell me you're joining the Protectorate than calling me out of class during school hours to a private meeting with Armsmaster," I said, trying to refrain from shouting. There was only one reason I could think of that he was here with my dad and it didn't have anything to do with what I had just said.

He shook his head. "That isn't… Taylor, he says…"

"He thinks I'm a parahuman," I interrupted. I loved my dad, I really did, but he had no idea how to handle this. Not that I was any more certain, but I at least could pretend. I held my onto as much resolve as I could when I focused back on Armsmaster. "I thought I was clear when I talked to Miss Militia. I don't want or need your help."

"You don't want," he said quietly. "Need is another matter entirely, one we're here to discuss."

"No isn't clear enough?" I asked, noting the way my dad's eyes widened at the exchange.

"Taylor, are you… are you saying that what he told me is true?" he asked.

"I can only guess, but I'm assuming it's what I already said," I didn't look away from Armsmaster. "Didn't your tests already decide I wasn't?"

"The MRI came back negative, true, but it isn't a perfected method," he said. "It doesn't always show in the same place and sometimes has been missed entirely."

"Convenient that you remember that now," I snorted. "So, you went to my dad and talked him around to being here for this, I take it?"

"I judged it as the most likely method by which you would listen," he admitted and I couldn't detect anything but absolute honesty from him.

"Well, it's a pretty stupid method," I snapped, barely keeping from raising my voice.. "Using my dad against me? Beyond low."

"Taylor," my dad interjected, clearly uncertain about what to do but looking to me for confirmation. "Is what he's told me true? Are you a parahuman?"

"Does it matter?" I asked bitterly. "You're sitting here with him so you clearly believe whatever he's told you. Yes. No. Who fucking cares?" He shifted back as if struck and I turned my attention back to Armsmaster.

"Well, congratulations. You have my attention with this asshole stunt. What do you want?" I demanded.

"Ms. Hebert," he began. "I understand you're upse-"

"Really?" I interrupted. "You do? I can't imagine why. It isn't like I'm not standing in a room where a member of the Protectorate has ambushed me with my Dad, telling him that I'm a parahuman, in an effort to get me to agree to something that I already refused!"

"If you'll permit me," he tried again.

"No," I said. "You had no right-"

"So, I don't deserve to know what my daughter might be out doing?" my dad interrupted, drawing my attention. His voice was firm now, lacking any of the uncertainty from before. "Almost two months, Taylor. Were you ever planning on telling me?"

I stared at him. "And what would be the point? Over a year of dealing with Emma and you never noticed anything was wrong until I was stuffed into a locker full of bloody waste! I could become an entirely different person and I don't know that you would notice, sometimes!"

"You never talk about things," he returned and I felt my weight shift a little, but I stood firm. "How am I supposed to know what's wrong if you won't talk about it?"

"I tried!" I yelled. "When they first started. I tried to bring it up to you then, but you were too caught up in feeling sorry for yourself because mom was dead to even notice that I needed you too!"

His face went white and the silence that followed my last word was almost deafening. Armsmaster cleared his throat and I could tell he was highly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. Served him right for pulling a stunt like this. I wasn't going to apologize though.

"I understand this is a bit tense, but perhaps we can step back a bit and cool down," he began as my dad stood.

"I'll see you at home, Taylor," he said, his voice tightly controlled. "I don't think I'm… I don't think I should stay here."

"Dad," I began, staring at him as he made a point to look anywhere but at me.

"Don't," he said. "I'll see you at home. We can talk then, maybe." He didn't wait for me or Armsmaster to say anything, simply closing the door emphatically as he left the room.

"Well, just great," I muttered, dropping into one of the chairs and burying my face in my arms in frustration.

The clearing of a throat prompted me to tilt my head so one eye could see across the table. "Oh. You're still here."

"I am sorry. That was not my intention," he apologized.

"And that makes it better?" I snorted, but the anger was gone for the most part, replaced by unhappiness over what I had said to my dad. "Whatever. I'm here like you wanted, so talk."

"Let me finish," he said firmly. "I truly am sorry. I had hoped that having your father here would make you more amenable to talking about this. My misstep was in not researching as thoroughly as I should have. There are clearly issues I was unaware of at play here."

I pushed myself upright with my forearms. "I don't want to talk about that. You've obviously gone to a lot of trouble for this. So talk, or I'm leaving."

"This situation is, at best, atypical," he opened evenly. "Normally, we approach a parahuman when they go out and work from the other end of things. Circumstances related to an event in January, circumstances I believe you are already familiar with, have prompted me to go about this rather differently."

"This isn't about Hess, is it?" I asked, frowning. "Well, not really I guess. It's about the bird, isn't it?."

"For ten minutes on January 5th, around two in the afternoon, every thinker and precognitive in our employ, as well as everyone we could consult with, experienced a complete disruption to their abilities." he explained. "This coincided with and ended when the pyrokinetic display expired. It was, as best we can determine, a worldwide phenomenon."

I sat back, absorbing that. Worldwide? What had that bird been? I wasn't awake for it, but I had seen pictures taken at a distance. It seemed pretty and I had tried to draw it a few times from memory, but my pictures always seemed different from the images I had seen. What he was telling was impressive and clearly a big deal, but I didn't know what this had to do with me.

"And?" I asked finally. "I don't see what this has to do with me. I don't have the ability to do anything like that. I think I would have noticed."

"It might surprise you," Armsmaster replied, "but I actually agree with you. I've had the opportunity to observe you discreetly and a pyrokinetic power of the magnitude displayed would not be easily concealed. The complexity of the image suggests a degree of control far exceeding what a newly triggered parahuman would possess."

"Then why are you bothering me with this?" I asked. "I told Miss Militia I wasn't interested."

"Independent capes do not last long on their own," he said. "For a time, given your behavior and situation, we were honestly worried about you."

I blinked. "Why?"

"You were facing hostility from the administration at the school, oppression from a good portion of your peers," he elaborated. "Add that to a growing intolerance for the behavior both around and directed at you. It's a situation, if you'll forgive me, tailor-made for recruitment into one of the gangs."

I sat back with a denial ready to go, but paused to consider his words. Recruitment into one of the gangs? Like the Empire or the ABB? Well, probably not the latter. I wouldn't… I didn't finish the thought. Could I say that for sure? If they had approached right, when I just wanted a solution for the things with Emma to end, what would I have done?

Uncertain, I looked at Armsmaster, trying to get a grip on what he was thinking or feeling. I suppose I could see what he was saying, but I disagreed on the timing. The moments he was thinking were as far from that possibility as a thing could be. Before the locker, maybe. After, not a chance.

My power stretched out, feeling along the strand that was his mind. The nagging sense of familiarity was there again but I pushed it aside. Just a little bit further-

Stars exploded in my head and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the same discordant sensations as the last time I had tried this and pale familiarity became full-fledged recognition. My hands caught the edge of the table and gripped it as I tried to push the stabbing pain away.

"Taylor?" I heard his voice, each syllable like shards of glass stabbing at my ears. "Are you alright?"

The pain receded slowly and I forced myself to open my eyes, staring at the blue and silver clad figure that had moved to stand near me, concern clear in his posture. I've had the opportunity to observe you discreetly…" the words he had uttered earlier shot to the forefront of my mind, understanding damping the pain somewhat.

"S-S-Singer….!" I hissed through clenched teeth, seeing him freeze for the briefest of moments before wariness replaced the concern.

"Thinker headache," he said, not even bothering to deny my statement. "I'd ask that you refrain from trying to gather information about me."

"I-It's ok if you do, though, right?" I snorted at his words. "Hypocritical, given that you've been spying on me for almost two months. Discreet observation my ass."

"The point we've drifted from," he said, stressing the words, "is that independent capes with no support do not last long. They are either conscripted into one of the Gangs, or become enough of a nuisance that they end up in a morgue. Membership in the Wards can help prevent that, give you support, resources. Do you want your father to have to identify your body one day? If he even can, given some of the things that could happen to you."

"Don't bring my dad back into this," I said, glaring at him balefully. "I already have a mess to deal with because of this stunt you pulled. I don't want to join the Wards, I already told you."

"Will you at least accept working with us?" he asked. "It would give you backup if you get in over your head, help keep you safe."

"Funny," I said, impressed that he was still trying to push the Wards and he was being genuinely honest in his intentions. It didn't diminish my anger though. "I'm supposed to be safe at school too. I thought I was past that, but it turns out I've been spied on. I'll think about it, but I'm done for now."

"Would you tell me about your powers?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Figure it out yourself," I retorted, grabbing my bag and starting toward the door. It wrenched open before I reached it, providing me a clear exit as I left him standing in the conference room.

* * *​

The meeting with the Wards was wrapping up when I arrived and I merely settled into a spot against the back wall, mostly tuning them out as I considered what I was going to do for the rest of the day. The last period had been overtaken by this and a quick search ahead showed that they were going to let us out early for the day. The students began dispersing after a round of applause for the Wards. The costumed teenagers waved as they moved off the stage and I turned my attention to spotting Catherine and Minako.

"Taylor!" Catherine said when I found them a few minutes later. "Are you alright? It wasn't bad news, was it?"

"Not the best news, but not the sort of bad news you're thinking," I shrugged. "Your place, right?"

"If you're still up for it, sure," she made a face. "I warn you, though. My dad's home, took some leave time and he can be kind of overbearing, so don't worry too much if he gets really pushy. He gives all my friends the third degree."

"If it's a bad time, I can come over another time," I offered though the idea of going home didn't appeal to me right this moment. Home meant having to talk to my dad after what I had said in the conference room.

"No, today's good," she said quickly. "We, ah, actually had something to talk to you about."

"Oh?" I asked, distracted from my thoughts. "What's up?"

"It is important, but not something to be discussed here," Minako said. "When we are at Catherine's house, then we can talk freely."

"Okay…" I trailed off, wondering what this was about. They weren't going to reveal that they were spying on me too, were they? Or something worse?

"My mom's usually waiting for us, if you want to go ahead and bounce out of here," Catherine said. "We brought our stuff with us."

"That sounds good, actually," I said, shouldering my pack and following them outside. A green sports car with gold highlights was the car that they stopped at.

"Mom, this is Taylor," Catherine was saying as I settled into the backseat. "Taylor, this is mom."

"Leanna, please," her mom said, an attractive woman who didn't appear nearly old enough to be Catherine's mother. "It's nice to meet you, Taylor. Catherine's spoken well of you."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said politely.

She smiled. "Seatbelts, everyone." The next instant she pulled away from the curbside and into traffic.

 

[chibipoe]

2.4

Catherine's house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a roundabout in front for ease of someone turning around. It was a single level building and the grounds were well-kept, with a large yard and plenty of space. It was a nice, if a bit secluded home I noted as I followed Catherine and Minako, who were following Catherine's mother, Leanna, toward the front door.

"Taylor, my dad, dad, Taylor," Catherine said airily at the man working in a flower garden lining the walkway. "We're going to hang out in my room with Minako for a bit!"

"Be sure you finish your homework before dinner," he said while loosening dirt around a flower, then looked up, smiling at me. "And it's nice to meet you, Taylor. I'd offer to shake hands, but they're a bit dirty, as you can see."

"Thank you, sir," I said, nodding in reply. Catherine had said he was some sort of military, hadn't she? The man had hair similar in color to his daughter's, though cropped fairly short, and piercing blue eyes. He was also quite fit and I ducked away from his gaze quickly, hoping the flush to my cheeks wasn't visible.

Catherine didn't appear to notice as I followed her and Minako into the house, pausing only long enough that Minako slipped her shoes off before stepping far past the front door. I admired the house's decorations as we made our way toward what I assumed was Catherine's room. Both her and Minako seemed nervous, though with Minako, it was hard to tell from looking, but I could feel it.

That Minako was nervous made me curious. There were all sorts of rumors about the two that hadn't quite died out from an attempt Emma had made to drive them away from me after Sophia had been ousted. Being able to feel their nervousness grow as we got further down the hall had me recalling those and wondering if Emma had spread rumors that two were a couple might be true. They were together an awful lot, after all.

I shook my head. No, I'd never gotten that sort of feeling from them, either toward each other or toward me. Very close friendship that could be mistaken for romance, I suppose, but I'd gotten pretty adept at telling the difference between the two and other emotions during the day while at school.

Catherine's bedroom was large, with the bed sitting against a wall painted in black & white to resemble bricks. Near it was a small table and a chair and a large space that I thought was a closet, but also provided support for an upper level that looked like it had a desk and television up there. There were two other chairs on the ground level and I took one, glancing at the pattern on the rug curiously.

"So," Catherine said, closing the door and walking toward the bed and plopping down on it. "Minako and I actually have something we need to tell you."

I blinked at the serious tone. Had I misjudged thinking they weren't a couple? I held out my hands to interrupt. "Look, I don't have any problems with who you want to be with. It isn't for me, but I don't judge just because you like girls."

"Wait, what?" Catherine blinked and Minako was giving me a very odd look. "Oh, those rumors… you think we're together?" She looked at her friend. "Are we together? Was there a memo I missed?"

"It seems so," she cleared her throat. "While those rumors were not entirely untrue, Catherine and I are not a couple. We do, however, have something important to tell you. It is only fair, given that we know a secret of yours."

A secret of mine? "Um… I'm confused now…" I looked between them, trying to make sense of what they were saying. "I wasn't aware I had given away any secrets to you two that would warrant you have to share one with me…"

"Well, not today," Catherine said, dropping to the floor and pulling a rectangular container from beneath her bed. It was some sort of military issue and she fished out a key from around her neck while Minako did likewise, popping open the two locks. "This was actually Saturday night."

I frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. You guys went home after ice cream…"A thought occurred to me and my frown grew. "Explain."

They exchanged a look before Catherine raised the lid of the box. The angle she had pulled it out at meant I couldn't see what was in it. Neither said anything for a moment and I could feel tension building around them.

"We spent most of yesterday discussing about this," Minako said finally. "We came to the conclusion that it wasn't fair to keep this from you when we learned your secret."

I felt cold as the certainty of what they were referring to sunk in. "Seriously? Does everyone fucking know this? Is there a sign above my head that I can't see that gives this away? How did you eve-" I let the word die on my lips. They had said last night.

"You two are Hanabi and Rockshow," I said dully. Minako inclined her head and Catherine nodded with a grin, shifting the box around to show the neatly folded costumes and wings that I had last seen being worn by the two capes. I fell back against the chair, unable to form a reply. They said they had found out saturday night, but the last few days had left me unsure how to take anything. First Vicky, which had been as much my fault as anything, then that entire mess earlier today with Armsmaster and my dad…

I pushed thought of that aside, unwilling to think about that right now. They knew I was Sirin.

"Why are you telling me that you're Hanabi and Rockshow?" I asked quietly, staring at my hands.

"Well, we figured out it was you the other night," Catherine said. "Your costume… it's nice, but kind of only effective if someone doesn't already know you."

"It is, however, a very well-made costume," Minako chimed in. "But yes, we did recognize you quickly."

For a moment, I didn't know what to think. My mind shut down, I went silent, and the facts filtered in. My costume was nice. Nice enough that everyone that knew me could apparently take one look at me and just know who I was with utter confidence. A total, abject failure in it's intended purpose so far. Two for two even! Three for three if I counted Armsmaster and my father.

I actually laughed out loud at that, not noticing the worried looks I drew from Catherine and Minako. Or was it Rockshow and Hanabi? What was the proper etiquette here?

Was this going to be a repeat performance again? First Victoria, who was Glory Girl. Or was the first Sophia? Then Singer and now Minako and Catherine who were my friends and they hid this from me because they were just lik-

I felt something snap inside as soothing, skin-scorching heat filled me from within with a mix of calm and purifying rage.

"Taylor… are you okay…?" Catherine began, trailing off as I looked in her direction. Her face went white and one arm twitched slightly in the direction of the case.

"Am I okay?" I repeated, the words uneven and almost hysterical, even to my ears. "First, I go out and blow my secret identity within minutes of meeting another cape. Then I meet you two and you figure it out and don't say anything, just let me waltz off looking like an idiot. I bet you had a good laugh after I was gone, right?"

"We did no-" Minako started to say.

"And then," I raised my voice to drown her out. "Then I get to school and guess what? I get called into a meeting with Armsmaster and my father, who has been helpfully told I'm a cape. Apparently, the Protectorate knows too and I didn't even meet any of them on either of my nights out! Thanks to him, my dad knows and he left me there after I yelled at him. I'm batting zero and 3 right now for keeping my identity secret, my dad probably hates me for what I said to him and you two want… whatever it is you want out of telling me this. So you tell me if you think i'm okay?"

Catherine and Minako exchanged looks and Minako hesitantly spoke. "Taylor… it might be best to-"

"To what?" I interrupted again. "Let you give me your pitch? That's why you brought me over here, right? The same thing Armsmaster wanted? To recruit me? It's funny. The locker happens and I get powers and suddenly everyone is wanting to be my friend. Victoria. You two. Hell, Madison fucking Clements has even tried to be friendly. Was I just worthless before I got powers? Why didn't anyone do anything before that?"

"We weren't here for that, Taylor," Catherine said. "You know that!"

"Do I?" I retorted. "It isn't like anyone talked to me before then. But out of the blue, both of you do. And you're both capes! Never even seen a cape before then face to face and now they're popping out of the woodwork each time I turn around and I find out that I don't want them there. Was sitting down with me just for this? You said you found out Saturday, but how am I supposed to believe that?" This was insane. Them telling me this, the meeting earlier. All of it. Just insane.

"Taylor," Minako said, calmly, carefully. I could feel the eggshells she was walking on. "Your meeting today. You said it was with Armsmaster and your father? It has clearly upset you. Talking about it does help. If you wish, we will listen."

"No," I cut her off. "That's all anyone's done today. Talked to or about me. I've had enough of that. And strangely enough, none of it is anything I want to hear. Armsmaster at least could say he was worried with a straight-face. But here? I have no clue. And I don't think I want to have one at all." I grabbed my backpack and slung it over a shoulder, storming out of the room. I didn't care that if I wanted to, I could reach and find out for myself. To be honest, the last thing I wanted was know what they were thinking.

"Taylor!" Catherine called, coming out of the room after me. "Wait, please. This isn't…"

I stopped. Stopped, and pushed the fires down. I tried to think of the moments with them before now, and was able to slowly grind out a response. "Catherine. Whatever it is, it isn't happening right now. I'm leaving. Maybe we'll talk tomorrow, but right now, I'm leaving before I do something we'll both regret."

"Okay…" she trailed off and I felt Minako's presence in the hallway behind me as well.

"Go," she said. "Perhaps tomorrow we will talk. And, Taylor? Our apologies. It was not our intent to upset you to this degree."

I didn't verbally reply, but I waved a hand at them before I headed straight for the front door, not stopping when their mother called out, asking if everything was alright. Their dad was still working the garden and he looked up as I started down the paved path.

"Leaving already?" he asked, frowning at me. "Is everything alright?"

I laughed bitterly and shook my head as I walked past him. "It really isn't." I tapped my foresight, looking for a place that was close by that I could take off from. I didn't have my costume, but if anything had sunk to rock bottom over the past few days, it was the worth of my costume at concealing who I was.

"Do you need a ride home, Taylor?" her dad called, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. There was something else as well, something flowing from his mind that I didn't bother trying to identify.

"I'll take the bus, thanks," I said and kept going as my precognition let me chart a path to an alley that ran behind an abandoned church with nothing but trees on one side. I felt my lips quirk slightly as I thought of my power. I could see the future. But was the point? I'd used it for little stuff like with the gambling to get money for materials for my costume. Beyond that, how did I know when it was best to use it beyond fights? I had already found that things shifted too much for long range viewing most of the time.

I slipped into the alleyway and found myself at the spot where I was certain there was no one to see me. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and thought about Vicky's lessons on flying. A moment later and I was high above the ground, far enough up that anyone below was nothing more than a speck to me, and me to them. I looked out across the city, staring off in the direction that I knew home to be.

A moment of contemplation and I turned away, frustrated. I didn't want to go home to what was sure to be either an argument or Dad just passively doing nothing but staring at me with no clue what to say or do. I didn't care enough to use my precog to find out which it would be. I wanted to take out my frustrations on something that wouldn't talk back, plead with me, or try to convince me it was thinking about my welfare.

The Boat Graveyard.

Even from where I was hanging, I could see it. There would be plenty of things there I could smash and no one was likely to notice. Heat flooded me for a moment, the way it had when I had lost my temper in Catherine's room and I tilted forward and took off like a rocket. The hesitant, almost uneven flight I had gotten the hang of was replaced with a smooth motion like the way Glory Girl flew. Much faster than before, too.

Was this because I was angry? Did anger make my powers stronger? Why was I flying so easily now? Frustration and confusion bubbled over my anger for a moment and I just mindlessly laughed into the wind. Fantastic. Bad days make me stronger! Maybe if I had a really bad one I could actually solve somebody's problems. Cause I couldn't seem to fix mine.

I dropped onto one of the scuttled ships in the bay, glad that I had my jacket. The wind on the bay had a chill and the water splashed up onto the sides of ships, sending an icy-cold spray into the air that I could feel on my skin.

A telekinetic shove and the railing beside me crumpled and then tore away with a loud clang. I ripped it into pieces that hovered there for a moment before launching them at the cabin of the ship I was on. Glass shattered and metal gave way under the force of my makeshift spears, but there was no comfort or satisfaction in the sounds of tormented metal.

"Not good enough," I said, looking at the surface I was standing on. Frustration welled up as I thought of the meeting, of Armsmaster trying to convince me to be a Ward and telling my dad I was a cape.

He had no right!

I slammed my fist downward, surrounding it with telekinetic force. The metal caved inward, leaving a huge depression centered on my arm. I grinned and swung again, then again and again, until the metal bowed beyond its stress points creaking and moaning pitifully, splintering to reveal the dark interior of the wrecked ship.

"And my dad!" I shouted. "He just stood there, taking Armsmaster's side and wondered why I didn't tell him anything!" I took two steps and propelled myself to another ship, my feet leaving impressions as I mimicked what I had done with my fist, only more tightly constrained.

"Over a year!" I screamed. "An entire year and more! And you didn't notice! And you had the nerve to ask me why I didn't tell you!" I swung my arms until they ached, warping huge sections of the ships as I let my temper fly. Metal deformed and rent under my anger, but there was nothing in return. Just an empty feeling that fueled my frustrations.

"Maybe if you had been there when I needed you, I wouldn't keep things from you!" The last ended on a hoarse note as I whirled, flinging my arm out in a punch at the bridge of this freighter. It was too far to actually hit, but I didn't let that stop me. The entire side of it caved inward, warping beyond anything I had done before as the sounds of rivets popping joined the sounds of destruction like gunshots.

"Mom…" I continued in a softer voice. "Mom died and you just seemed to forget I even existed!" My voice rose again, hitting a near screech as I dug into the metal with my mind and simply started tearing it away in clumps.

"You forgot I was there and then, someone tells you a story and suddenly, it's okay to demand to know things!" I snarled as the ship shook from what I was doing to it. It wasn't enough though. I needed to do something else, something more. Everything so far just didn't satisfy. Instead of venting, I could feel the fire and flames being stoked higher and higher in my chest. The heat surged, radiating outwards.

My temper exploded fully as I thought of my dad's words in the meeting and the way he had stormed off and left me alone again. I screamed, but it wasn't words this time, just an angry incoherent sound that echoed strangely off the hulks, reaching an almost animalistic screech as I sheared the broken ship in two with a metallic death-knell.

The heat reached a fever-pitch, and I could swear that I was burning up from the inside, similar to what I felt at Catherine's but so much stronger as crackling flame burst into life up and down my arms. For a moment, panic and fear set in as instincts demanded that I was indeed burning. Yet I felt calm. I was still angry, furious even. But the flames were comforting. Like slipping into a second skin I didn't know I missed. Looking closely, or as close as I could, the flames danced just above my clothing and skin leaving both untouched.

"What…" I raised a hand and stared as the fire reacted, shifting in response to my movement and following my hand. "I have fire powers too…?"

I threw my head back and laughed. Just what I needed. Now I could make this ship into a real wreck. I could feel the fire now, real and physical and not just inside me. Mercurial, burning, ready to consume. Yet it was like shaping clay as I compressed and focused it into a sphere that I flung it down the length of the deck, a feeling of satisfaction finally mine as I watched it explode in a plume of vaporised metal, throwing bits of heated slag around like rain. I called up another, watching it shift and the flames flare out in odd directions as I prepared to throw again.

"This coincided with and ended when the pyrokinetic display expired." Armsmaster's words from the meeting dropped in to my thoughts and I flung the second fireball I had made away hastily, the anger that had been fueling me fading, replaced by realization as the flames around me winked out.

"I have pyrokinesis..." I whispered, staring at the fires below as they also died out, albeit from a lack of fuel now that I was no longer maintaining them. Why? Why now? The memory and implications hit me and I shifted where I was floating, staring around at the completely ruined ship and the others I had damaged in shock. Several were mangled beyond recognition and those that were not had been wrecked long before I had lost my temper.

"Fire powers…" I whispered to myself again. Another bout of laughter, more like a choked giggle, bubbled up. "Fantastic! Great even! Fire powers! Who wouldn't love fire powers? Not when they're tearing the city apart looking for anyone that has them!" I collapsed in on myself, curling into up into a ball in mid-air as I tried to fight the tell-tale sting in my eyes. But looking down, I didn't even bother.

What I could see that I had done, however, was enough to banish the last of my temper. The ship I had torn in half and ripped chunks from had been a cargo freighter once, but now it was assorted piles of scrap and cooling metal. I stared at the wreck for a moment before I took a deep breath, uncurled, and launched skyward to get away from this.

To just get away from everything.

~~~~~~~~​

"Well, that seemed entirely pointless," Browbeat announced as the other Wards settled down in their meeting room. "Why did we even have to do that?"

"I'm sure the boss had some reason," Clockblocker said nonchalantly. "But did anyone else notice that he bugged off while we were performing for the masses? He typically throws in the stoic cliche or two, but not even showing? That's new."

"I'm sure it had something to do with why he's been off-duty the last while," Aegis said, not looking up from his laptop. "Probably above our pay grade, so I wouldn't worry about it. If we need to know, then we'll be told."

"But that's boring," Clockblocker replied. "You aren't the least bit interested?"

"No," Aegis answered. "Like I said, if we need to know, we'll be told. Why are you interested?"

"Because I'm wondering why we got pulled out of classes just to go parade around in front of junior gang central," he complained. "I mean, Winslow's a crap hole, everyone knows that."

"Is that a fact?" Browbeat asked, voice distinctly frosty.

"Well, you could just go to Arcadia with the rest of us, you know," Clockblocker said, holding his hands up defensively.

"Well, that's your choice," Browbeat snapped. "Mine is to go to Winslow. Also, it's my opinion that having all of us in one place is asking for someone to get cocky if someone guesses who we are anyways. Who wants to end up like that New Wave member after all? Flower, or whatever her name was?"

"Fleur," Gallant said with a frown from across the room. "Her name was Fleur."

"Yeah, her," Browbeat continued, waving a hand dismissively. "The point is, it isn't exactly a secret that the Wards go to Arcadia, just who they are. So anyone who wants to try and make a name for themselves knows right where to go and we'd be caught with our pants down."

"What? No one would be crazy enough to attack Arcadia to get at us," Clockblocker protested. "Besides all the security, with all of us there we'll kick ass."

"And how many students aren't capes?" Vista asked, looked up from something she was reading. "We don't have conveniently placed phone booths that we can change in. We'd be hindered a lot more than the other side if we ever got attacked there."

"Either way, no one would attack the school like that because it would bring too much attention on them," Aegis chimed in again. "They'd have to be really backed into a corner to do something like that."

"Fine, fine, gang up on me," Clockblocker said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Geez, no respect around here."

"We're only ganging up on you for being dumb," Vista snarked, reaching over from across the room to smack him in the head. "Anyway, the schedule for tonight isn't up yet. Who wants first patrol?"

"The schedule will be out shortly," Triumph interrupted, walking in with his helmet tucked under one arm. "Aegis will be with me, though. I have a lot of things to cover with him."

"Wait, are you saying he's going to be your replacement when you trade up for the Protectorate?" Clockblocker asked, looking from Triumph to Aegis, who appeared stunned.

"I didn't say that," Triumph rolled his eyes. "I just said I need to cover some things with hi-"

"I'm taking first patrol," Vista said abruptly, dropping what she had been reading on the table and walking out of the room. Silence filled the room and Gallant sighed, standing and stretching.

"I'll try talking to her," he said, giving an absent wave toward the others before following after her.

"Be careful if you head near the boat graveyard," Triumph called. "There was some weird activity reported out there."

"Sure, sure," Gallant called over his shoulder before the door closed.

"Something at the graveyard?" Browbeat asked curiously.

Triumph shrugged. "All I heard is a patrol car making the rounds reported a lot of noise. I heard someone from the Rig was going to take a look, but I bet it's probably nothing."

"Oh well, it isn't like anyone really cares if someone goes out to that pile of scrap and starts trashing it," Clockblocker observed. "It's a bunch of wrecked ships that no one wants to bother with moving. Again, who really cares?"

Triumph just shook his head. "Clockie, you're on monitor duty. Aegis, with me." He turned on his heel and started toward the exit, ignoring Clockblocker's protests about the shortening of his name. Aegis gave the others an apologetic shrug and followed after the Wards team leader.

~~~~~~~~​

Emily Piggot grimaced and shifted in her seat, feeling the pain in her lower torso that came, went and would often return. A reminder that she could never get comfortable in the style of chairs used for the furnishings within this building. Or anywhere really. Looking over the papers in front of her, she wondered again why she continued to do this job, given her condition. Spending her days primarily in an uncomfortable chair and dealing with the issues of people with too much power and for most, very little sense.

I should really consider a less stressful line of work. The thought was not a new one as she brought up the latest reports concerning parahuman gang activity onto her monitor. The first one to come up detailed a skirmish between members of the Empire and the ABB. Likely some sort of territory clash, she parsed from the details with a quick glance. The aftermath had been limited to gang casualties, so that was good, at least. If anything involving neo-nazis and asian thugs could be called good, anyway. But the fewer civilians that were caught in the fighting the better.

She mechanically ran down the list, picking out the details with a practiced eye until it switched to police reports involving the unaffiliated heroes and villains. Her attention sharpened on those, giving them more of her focus to see who happened to be a problem this month. There was always someone who was being a problem.. The independents in Brockton Bay were an addition to a volatile mix that she often wished that she didn't have to deal with. There were enough of them that one day, she feared one side or the other would go too far and provoke the explosion of the powder keg that was this city's cape situation.

At least the stupid ones get killed quickly, she thought in a moment of black humor. The ones who lasted knew when not to push things too far, knew the rules to operate by. Still, that didn't mean she didn't have to send reminders when one of them began acting a bit too brazenly, or when one of the villains began upping their game and risked drawing attention from one of the larger groups on their heads.

She eyed a report about Boneyard, a Master who created skeletal minions, and how one of his recent victims had been the relative of someone on the city council and they were making noises to the Mayor about it. A disgusted snort emerged as she finished reading. Did they think she was here to task assets for redressing their personal grievances? Still, she made a note to have Velocity track him down for a talk. It was one thing to rob the tourists who came to Brockton Bay for its cape population, another for the natives, particularly if you were indiscriminate in your choices of who to target.

The director continued running through the list and was moving to more mundane matters involving budget when the door to her office opened without knocking and a familiar figure clad in blue and silver entered.

"Armsmaster," she said, turning her gaze back to the budget files. "An unscheduled meeting? What's the issue?"

"I have several things to report before I go out for my patrol tonight," he said simply.

Emily turned her gaze from the computer to him, eyes narrowing. "I take it you've decided to return to active duty?"

"I do want to put a PRT agent in my place, but yes," he said. "I did not track down the parahuman responsible for the manifestation, but I did learn of and secure a tentative possibility of Wards affiliation from Taylor Hebert."

Emily's gaze sharpened into crystalline focus with a frown. "You determined that she was a parahuman? Independent of our previous investigation?"

"I have myself as a witness to a demonstration of telekinesis as well as an unknown thinker power that caused a headache," he said, grimacing. "My choice of tactics when approaching her did not play out as I had hoped. Regardless, I believe she isn't ruling out association with the Wards. My recommendation is to give her some space at present. I have a potential solution in mind, but I want to take some time to develop it properly."

"And the one responsible for the manifestation? What about that?" she replied, lacing her fingers together atop a pile of papers with a pointed look at him.

"Very little," he replied. "I did see a report that we had a very brief moment this afternoon of our local Thinkers and precognitives suffering an interruption of their abilities, but it was a minute and a half at most. I haven't heard word if any of the other cities reported any similar issues to the first instance of a thinker blackout, so I don't have more data to make a conclusive determination."

She turned her focus back to the computer. "So, the situation with that remains relatively unchanged, pending further information. Anything else? I presume there's more given that you're pulling back from your position at Winslow so abruptly. Why do you want an agent in your place, also?"

Armsmaster grimaced. "The thinker power she used, whatever it is, allowed her insight into the fact that Armsmaster and Professor Singer are one and the same. While it doesn't inconvenience me in any significant fashion, withdrawing seemed the most prudent course of action. As to the agent, someone on the ground there would be an asset in keeping an eye on things in case another situation arises."

"She figured out your identity?" Emily asked. "That is concerning. Why would you want a PRT agent to replace you when there's a chance they could be found out? With that sort of talent, would even Clements' be secure in her cover?"

"I do not think that she is in any danger of exposure. The exposure of Professor Singer as Armsmaster was as much my fault as any talent of hers. I interacted with Hebert on a regular basis as a teacher and on the heels of that, approached her as Armsmaster. Any decent thinker should have been able to make the same connection. As she hasn't interacted with Browbeat at all to my knowledge, there wouldn't be any means of connecting him to Madison." He replied, shifting in his seat as he considered the question.

"A PRT asset would give us eyes on the ground and it would provide Madison with a point of contact if anything happens." He made a face beneath his helmet. "I've had her on punishment detail for a while but I'd prefer that whoever is her liaison is more responsible than the last and has a ground level view of what's going on, independent of whatever that woman who calls herself a Principal offers in reports."

"Ah, Blackwell, correct?" she mused, making adjustments on the budget spreadsheet. "Miss Militia conveyed your displeasure with that woman in one of her reports."

"I'll spare you my rant," he said drily. "I would recommend Lieutenant Kellar for the assignment at Winslow. She would be more than capable of handling any issues."

"I will take it under advisement," she said gruffly. "Have a detailed proposal in my mail by morning and I'll examine it."

He inclined his head and stood. "Have a good evening then, Director." She muttered a reply as the door closed, leaving her alone once more to consider what he had brought across her desk. Grimacing as the pain in her torso returned, she opened a drawer and withdrew a memory stick from it. The files it contained were brought up and accessed, as she updated it with the new data provided about Taylor Hebert before returning it to its hiding place.

"Another teenager with power and probably no sense," she muttered. The information they had on the Hebert girl and her relatively recent issues had not eased any of her worries at all. The girl was a bundle of issues and now there was powers to add to the mix.

"I really should consider a vacation or something less stressful," she muttered. "Maybe I should retire and do something else. Become a curator, maybe." Emily Piggot shook her head at the thought and turned her attention back to finish the budget for the upcoming month.

~~~~~~~~​

The information on the screens before her might as well have been in another language entirely, for all the sense it was making now. Lisa sighed, massaging her temples as she tried to ward off the building migraine so she could focus . Too many things that she had to look into and whatever was causing the skips to Thinker powers like her own was not helping. Not that he cared. Her employer still drove her like a slave. There was too much he wanted to know, and not enough time to know it all

And the PRT is as clueless as my boss or me. The thought did not reassure her in the slightest as she stared at one of the many internal documents on the PRT servers she was in the course of blatantly stealing. They had connected the first incident of Thinker blackout to the appearance of the fiery projection over Winslow High back in January. There hadn't been any since, which gave her little to work with. She needed something, some starting point for her power to work best and it remained stubbornly uncooperative when she tried to use that incident as one, providing her with random nonsense that was just plain gibberish.

Today, however, that had changed, as another skip to her powers had occurred. It hadn't gone on as long as the one in January, but it certainly was as annoying. She had been in the middle of sorting out the best means to approach the capes that her employer wanted to form into a group. While trying to sort out how to convince the most problematic of the candidates, her power had effectively thrown it's hands up in the air and walked out on her for almost two straight minutes.

She had informed Coil and been instructed to investigate any recent occurrences that might be connected, which is what had her going over the reports that the PRT had of the day's events. Somewhere among these, there had to be a clue that would help her pin this down.

"No, no, no," she muttered, disregarding a report as her power gave her more information than she wanted about a vigilante who ran around wearing only a mask, scarf, gloves, boots and nothing else. She seemed to show up a lot around a girl who was being harassed by tinkertech at Clarendon.

"That school is entirely too weird," she muttered, thinking of some of the other strange reports she had heard about from there. Lisa continued scrolling down the list, lips moving as she assessed and discarded, quickly determining them to be of no value.

"Police report disturbance of some sort at the boat graveyard," she read slowly. "Assault and Battery investigated, found one boat torn completely apart by unknown source, immense damage to several others. Signs of intense heat due to melted sections." Frowning, Lisa sat back, her eyes flicking over the photographs attached to it while waiting for the flow of input that would give her more information on this and who might be responsible.

Elemental... Fire? Avian? Anger? Frustration?

"What the hell does that even mean?" she demanded aloud at the random stream of nonsensical data. "Is my power still-" Her hand froze over the keyboard, eyes widening, then narrowing to thin lines.

"No, not on the fritz," she said, excitement welling up. This was the event she had been looking for! Whatever happened here was tied to the blackout! A notepad window was opened and she began typing furiously, recording every line of nonsensical data that her power was giving her before adding all the facts in the report to the file as well.

A faint headache was tapping at her skull when she finished, the information her power had given her long since trailed off into easily recognizable nonsense. This was a start, at least. Her power was giving her something at last and she could build on that. Whoever this was would likely do this again and she only had to be alert for that. Nodding in satisfaction, she saved the file to multiple locations before returning to the rest of the reports.

Nothing of use, either to her or to her boss, remained and she carefully left the PRT's network and focused on the issue that she had been assigned before the skip earlier. Brian Laborn sat at the top of the list, along with a list of other candidates, some local, some not.. He wanted her to approach them, see about aligning some of them together as a group.

Brian Laborn. She looked at the dossier that had been provided about him first. Worked hired muscle as Grue, observation suggested he was looking to obtain custody of his sister, to get her out of a bad family situation. A lever she could use there? Would offer his loyalty to whoever could give him the means to accomplish that.

I can use that. She grinned in a disturbingly feral manner and began researching, her headache forgotten. Now who else can I line up for this…

~~~~~~~~​

The clouds parted violently from the speed I was flying as I tilted downward from level flight, dropping down below the overcast to see the distant spectacle of Brockton Bay below me. I brought myself to a halt, simply hanging there and taking in what was before me. I still had no desire to go home, to face the argument that I was sure to happen if I did. So here I was, still up here. Nothing on earth that I wanted to return to a the moment, so I would stay here in the sky. I was fairly sure that none of my problems back on on the ground could reach me here, but then again this was a day for being surprised. I wasn't even sure how I was this high up and not having issues breathing or from the temperature, actually. Brockton was far enough that it was just a hex-grid sprawl of colors that clashed against the ocean.

However that worked and whatever had changed, to fly like this was amazing. The fact that I was not in my utterly useless costume didn't even matter at this moment. I was so high that I could see for miles. If it were a clear day, I was almost sure I could see forever, as the song went. The sun, however, was beginning its descent and the dimming light would soon render the view nothing more than darkness.

I sighed, my frustrations from earlier petered out into an empty, tired feeling, my breath emerging as a puff of fog. Turning downward again, I angled toward Captain's Hill. I could watch the sunset from there and decide what I was going to do if I didn't go home. I hadn't even completed my descent when I heard a shout and a figure rocketed up beside me.

"I thought that was you!" Vicky said, breathless. "You've gotten better with flying… wait… why are you not in costume?"

I snorted, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice as I answered. "Dressed like I am now provides me about the same level of secrecy as my costume, apparently."

Vicky looked at me, her expression easy to read even if I weren't able to feel the worry she was radiating. I guess she picked up on my mood. "That… sounds like a story. Up for talking about it?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it," I snapped immediately, then winced at the way she flinched in response to my tone. I sighed and shook my head. "Sorry, you don't deserve that. It's just been a really shitty day."

"You know the solution to that, right?" she asked after a moment.

"What?" I asked, more out of politeness than any real interest.

"Ice cream," Vicky announced with an assertive nod. "There's an ice cream place on the boardwalk that has the best green tea ice cream I've ever tried."

I chuckled a bit, the sound empty and lifeless. "I think I know the place you mean." I looked off toward where the sun was sinking out of sight. "Sure, why not. Ice cream can't make this day any worse, that's for sure."

I paused in the act of angling toward the boardwalk, the question only slightly bitter. "You aren't planning any dramatic revelations or ambushing me while we're there, are you?"

"Uh, no?" she replied, looking confused, and if it was possible even more worried. "I was just planning for us to have ice cream."

"When we have ice cream without anything happening, I'll believe that," I muttered bleakly. "The last few hours has been a stream of people saying one thing and then doing another to surprise me."

"Not the happy fun kind of surprise, I take it?" Vicky asked lightly, showing no signs of offense at my tone.

"Not really," I answered, then frowned. "Um, I suppose I should find a place to land where I won't be seen, since I'm not in costume."

"I was going to ask about that again," she commented. "Did you just decide to go the New Wave route, with flying around with no mask?" If I didn't know better, I could almost swear she felt hopeful at the potential fact.

I sighed, unwilling to even get angry about the entire thing again, especially as Vicky's worry was quite apparent to me. "Let me find a spot to land and when we've got a private table, I can tell you about it." I tapped my precognition and sorted through the possibilities quickly, finding a spot we could land at where no one would notice us.

"Follow me," I told her, tilting at an angle and tracing the path I had mapped out until we touched down between two buildings on a service path used for deliveries.

"We just flew over the boardwalk," Vicky said as she eyed the surroundings in distaste. "A bunch of people probably saw us, you know."

"Nope, not a single person, actually," I replied, shifting my backpack and started walking toward the nearest path that opened onto the boardwalk. "I'm good."

"What, are you able to see the future or something?" she teased, falling in step.

"Or something," I answered, a grin tugging at my lips for an instant as I glanced in her direction. The boardwalk's evening lights were beginning to turn on with daylight fading away slowly. Several shops and restaurants that only opened for nighttime hours were in full swing. Several blocks down, I could hear the distinct music of the carousel as people moved up and down, browsing the shops or coming out of restaurants.

Most of the people at the ice cream shop were getting their cones and going out onto the boardwalk. From the way they were staring at everything or looking skyward, I was sure that most were tourists. They were enough in the store itself that the ambient noise reduced the chance that anyone would be listening in on us even after we got a corner booth.

"So, what's the trouble?" Vicky asked between bites of her sundae. I had a modest double scoop of ice cream in a bowl that I scraped negligently at with my spoon while considering how to start.

"Well, the Wards showed up at Winslow today for a special meeting," I finally said before giving the green tea ice cream a taste. It was actually really good, like she had said.

"Oooh, I thought I heard something about that," Vicky interjected. "What was it like? Boring? Exciting? Was Gallant cute?"

I snorted. "I wouldn't know. I was otherwise occupied. I got called to the office, where Armsmaster was waiting. With my dad."

Vicky whistled slightly, wincing back in sympathetic pain. "Oh wow. That's… wow… I gather that did not go well."

I barely held back a bitter laugh. "Catastrophic would be my description. Armsmaster had figured it out somehow and told him. I did not react to his 'why didn't you tell me' routine very well and he stormed out after I said something pretty harsh."

"He left you alone? With Armsmaster?" Vicky asked. "Wow. I just.. I have no words for that. I mean, I heard he's mellowed a bit while he's been off building or sniffing flowers or whatever it is tinkers do in their spare time, but the guy's always been kind of, well, a dick."

I shrugged, not voicing my thoughts that apparently dealing with a gang-infested high school was less stressful than whatever he normally did, since Professor Singer had always seemed pretty relaxed. "He wasn't so bad. I told him I wasn't interested in his pitch for the Wards after I blew up a bit about him outing me to my dad like that and mostly left."

"Judging from your remark earlier, I am guessing, in my infinite wisdom, that this wasn't the end of the bad day?" she asked, picking the cherry off her sundae from where it had fallen to the side of her bowl.

"Well, let me backtrack a bit," I said, feeling around the room for a moment. No curiosity directed our way. Good. "Saturday night, I went out again after I messaged you. I met a couple of the indy heroes when I was trying to find my first villain to take on."

"Sorry I couldn't show for that. So, who'd you go after? Someone from the Empire? ABB?" she asked, her interest sharpening.

I shook my head. "I wasn't going to look for that sort of trouble alone. No, I wanted to start small so I was looking for Boneyard, a mugger."

"Oh, that loser," Vicky said, slamming a fist into her palm. "I busted him once, but he got away after the PRT took him off my hands and after I was long gone. His skeletons are a pain and he just keeps making them."

"I noticed," I said drily. "He bailed as it was the three of us against him. He was in the middle of fighting Hanabi and Rockshow when I jumped in."

Vicky frowned slightly at the names, scraping the last of the ice cream from her bowl. "I've heard of them, but I haven't met them. Couple of rookies that have been in a few fights so far."

"Well," the word was drawn out and I wasn't able to keep any of my irritation from it at all. "I have. They, like you, recognized me. Unlike with you, I didn't recognize them as they clearly have better costumes than I do and they didn't say anything then."

Vicky's eyes widened and she looked around the room before leaning forward. "You're saying you know who they are out of costume?"

"I do now," I snorted. "After school let out, I went over to hang out with some friends at one of their houses. They dropped the bombshell while there that they knew it was me and who they were."

Vicky sat her spoon down carefully. "Wow. That… you weren't kidding about your day being crappy. This sounds like a grade A clusterfuck in the making. You were still in a mood after Armsmaster, I bet. How bad did you blow up?"

"I yelled at them before leaving. It wasn't too bad," I admitted, then flushed a little. "My real blow up came later, at the boat graveyard."

Vicky's eyes widened again. "That was you? I flew over there when I was out after dropping Amy off at the hospital. I saw police and PRT and dropped low to get a better look. Several of those ships were completely wrecked."

"I kind of got carried away," I said shyly. "But I was angry. The whole day was spent with people talking to or about me. Armsmaster ambushed me with my dad and he didn't want to listen and I blew up at him. My costume is apparently so bad at keeping my identity a secret that Armsmaster knew without even seeing me in it! But it's okay, because it's nice. The people I thought were my friends probably only made friends with me because I got powers and wanted to recruit me to join them. I needed something I could take it out on…" The words died off as I caught my breath, the whole thing having spilled out quickly.

"Jeez, no wonder you trashed the graveyard," she said, nodding sympathetically. "Just a big target that won't give you attitude and you can smash as much as you want."

"Pretty much," I said, oddly exhausted now that I had vented. "I.. I threw my mom's death in my dad's face. I was angry at him and how it felt like he was siding against me, so I took all my frustrations that I'd bottled up since that happened and said something terrible."

"And now you don't want to go home because you figure it'll be an even bigger argument?" Vicky asked.

I nodded, glum. "Yeah, he's probably already been through my room and found where I was hiding the costume. He just… he listened to Armsmaster and it didn't matter what I said because I was keeping things from him."

"Hey," Vicky said, looking concerned. "Listen. You'll just get yourself worked up again if you revisit that. I don't think the boat graveyard would survive your temper again."

My hands tightened on the edge of the table until my knuckles were white, remembering the boat graveyard. "There was… something else I found out while I was out there."

Vicky looked at me with some concern. "Something else? Like what?"

I forced my hands to relax and shook my head. "It's easier to just show you, but not here. Know someplace private that we won't be noticed?"

"The boat graveyard?" she suggested with an impish grin. "Though, I have to say, it isn't the best choice of locales to take your date to for privacy. It doesn't exactly scream romance. I mean, do you really think I get excited by the sight of waterlogged old wrecks?"

"What?" I said, flushing. "Date? I'm not-! This isn't…!" I trailed off as I caught the mischievous smirk on her face. "You are absolutely terrible."

"I don't like seeing my friends in a bad mood," Vicky announced airily as we put our bowls in the bin for being taken to the back for cleaning. "Plus, you're adorable when flustered. A bit like my sister, I think."

I shook my head, surprised that my mood had improved somewhat. Still, I gave her my sternest look as we walked toward the exit. "Utterly. Terrible."

""Meh, you're disappointed that my magnificence isn't really on a date with you," she fired back. "You'll have to get used to disappointment, I'm afraid."

"I'm going to ignore you now," I retorted as another smile tugged at my lips. "So, someplace private?"

"Still trying to lure me off alone with your wiles," Vicky said, laying the back of her hand against her forehead over-dramatically. "Alas, whatever am I to do?"

"Stop that, for one," I snorted. "You make it sound like we're in some terrible romance novel. The really steamy kind."

"Oh, those are the best!" she said, changing gears abruptly. "Like, when the heroine's all protesting but is actually totally into the guy but can't admit it because she's too uptight." She fanned herself and then looked sideways at me with a grin.

"Figures you would read those," I muttered.

"I actually don't," she said. "Amy does though. She's big into forbidden romance stuff. I like mine a bit more down to earth. Most of the time. What about you?"

"Me?" I blinked. "What about me?"

"What sort of smutty romance does Taylor read?" she asked, reaching over to poke me in the ribs.

"Hey!" I shifted away and grimaced. "I don't read that sort of thing. At all."

"Uh-huh," the look she was giving me, along with the tone she was using told me she didn't believe that at all. "I bet you've got a whole stash of books that you'd be embarrassed if anyone found them!"

"I really don't," I protested, flushing as I thought of the collection of mom's more risqué books that I had stashed in a box in my closet. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I have one of my own," Vicky shrugged with a grin. "Anyway, I know just the place for us to go so you can sway me away from Dean with your charms."

I dropped my head, letting my hair fall around my face for a moment. "I can't win with you about this."

"I'm just awesome like that," she told me. "Now, did you want to find some place where we can go without staring or…?"

I frowned, considering that and tapped my precognition to see if the same place we had landed could be used to leave. I made a face. "Won't work."

"Well then," Vicky said, grinning in a way I was sure I wasn't going to like. "I have an idea."

"What is- hey!" I began, then squawked indignantly as she wrapped her arms around me in a hug and shot up into the air to the sound of shouting and people rushing to take photographs.

"See?" she asked once we were moving away. "Just give me a minute and I'll let you go."

"You could have given me more warning than that," I grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her arms.

"That wouldn't have been as much fun, though!" she replied cheerfully while glancing around. "The look on your face when I hugged you was priceless. Think we're high enough?"

It only took me a second to verify that we were safe if I started flying under my own power. "We're good here."

"Great! Because you're heavy!" Vicky said, releasing me abruptly. I almost screamed as I began to fall before I willed myself to fly. Even with being able to see that she was going to do that, it had still had thrown me that she would actually drop me.

"That was not funny," I told her, rolling upward so that we were side-by-side. Vicky stared for a moment and then grinned.

"You really are flying better," she observed, amazed. "You were still kind of pitiful the other night."

"Maybe I'm just a natural at this?" I asked shrugging my shoulders slightly.

Vicky snorted. "No, I don't think it's that. You were a crippled puppy sort of pathetically cute with your flying before. If you were a natural, that wouldn't have been the case. Oh, drop down here!" She banked to the left and descended toward one of the larger buildings in the downtown section.

Vicky landed on the roof a moment before I did, stretching her arms. "Here we are."

"Your place to hide out is on top of a skyscraper?" I asked, looking around. "Which one is this, anyway? What if they have cameras out here?"

"Oh, some construction company," she waved a hand. "Fortress, I think. They make Endbringer shelters. And seriously? They're not going to have cameras out here. It'd be way too much trouble to climb out given how little flat space there is." She pulled a pair of towels from the pack she was carrying and sat down on one, then pinned the other in place with her hand, giving me a pointed look.

"First rule if you take to flying around like this? Always have a towel. These places don't get cleaned a lot." she said as I sat down, the fact that I could fly the only thing that kept me from panicking over my legs hanging off the edge of the building.

"Isn't that always have a towel, period?" I asked, grinning slightly. "I mean, towels have a lot of practical value."

"You're evading now," Vicky said gently. "So, what's the big secret?"

I stared at my hands and the streets and buildings below us for a long moment. "What do you know about powers?"

Vicky laughed. "You'll have to be more specific. I mean, I've done a lot of study to get ready for college, but I need a starting point. Where they come from? How they work?"

"How they work, I guess," I answered after considering the question. "Do powers get stronger?"

"That's actually a bit of a tricky question. The answer is pretty much no, though. I mean, there's outliers like Lung, but usually you get one power, or a set of powers and they are as strong they are ever going to be," She said thoughtfully, looking off into the skyline. "Like, I can fly. But I'm also invulnerable and can do this whole aura thing while being super-strong. Then there's folks who just have the one power. Like they'll have some kind of invulnerability and nothing else, or can pull some sort of something. PRT has this whole rhyme thing for it."

"I see," I murmured, frowning for a moment. "I've… gotten stronger since I got my powers. Hell, I've gotten more powers."

Vicky tilted her head and looked sidelong at me, a mix of curiosity and interest gleaming in her eyes. "What d'you mean?"

I took a deep breath. "Well, it started out just with being able to see things that were going to happen. It helped me avoid some of the people that were giving me trouble at school." I brought my knee up against my chest. "A few weeks back, I got jumped by a couple of guys that I think were members of the Merchants. I ended up getting away by essentially terrifying them into passing out. I got some sort of telekinesis out of it, and that's been getting stronger since then."

"Was this after we met?" Vicky asked, a look of intense thought crossing her face.

I nodded and continued. "It was the night you got me the jacket, actually. Then, today, after everything that happened, I was out at the graveyard and I wanted to wreck things and just tearing it apart with telekinesis wasn't enough." I held out my with the palm upward, hoping I could duplicate what I had done earlier on a smaller scale because otherwise, I was going to look stupid. I reached inward in my mind, looking for some sort of ember of the anger I felt earlier.

"That's when I got this," fire blossomed above my hand when I found one, and brought it to the surface. I heard Vicky draw in a breath at the sudden shift in the light.

"Fire?" she blinked several times. "You said you didn't…"

"And I didn't, until today," I said, thinking of what I had realized when it had happened at the graveyard as I moved my hand and the flame shifted with it. "It isn't the kind of thing I would miss."

"Huh," Vicky replied, looking thoughtful. "I did wonder about the parts that looked like they had been melted when I was over the graveyard earlier. I thought Lung might have gone down there and tore things up for some reason."

I turned my head to stare at her, baffled. "You're comparing what I did to something Lung is capable of?"

"No, I thought it was Lung's doing," she corrected, wincing at the look I was giving her. "I've never actually seen Lung fight, so all I know is what the reports say. But the way everything was wrecked and melted is what I imagine it would be like if he did go smashing around the graveyard."

"That… isn't much better," I muttered, turning to stare back at the darkening city below us again. "Anyway, that's the whole thing. I have fire powers too, apparently."

"Mmm," Vicky made a sound and leaned back to look up at the sky. "You said you started out just being able to see things that were going to happen? Then, after I got you the coat, some guys jumped you and you were able to make them afraid of you? And today, after you met with Hanabi and Rockshow, you got pyrokinesis?"

"That's right," I said, wondering where she was going with this. "You're thinking of something?"

"Well, powers are divided up into categories by the PRT," she began. "Tinker, Blaster, so forth. Armsmaster, for example, is a tinker. He builds things. Gallant in the Wards, for another example, fires energy beams, so he'd be considered a blaster."

"Okay," I nodded, to show I was following along as the topic was an interesting one

"It's a bit more complicated than that, but we don't need to get into really intense detail," she waved a hand. "I can't speak for what the PRT would say, but with what you've told me, I'm thinking Trump."

"Trump?" I repeated.

"Yeah," Vicky said. "Trumps do things with powers, either to other people's or manifest powers at random. Eidolon's the one I think of off the top of my head. They're pretty rare, all things being equal."

"And you think I might be a Trump?" I asked. "Because I am showing new powers?"

"Well, I'm not an expert," she began slowly, biting her lip. "But from what you've told me, I think so. You wanted to avoid the people giving you trouble, so you got the ability to see them coming if you wanted. When that wouldn't help you against those muggers, then you developed the fear effect you mentioned. That actually sounds a bit li-" She cut off, expression thoughtful.

"Vicky?"

"Oh, sorry," she shook her head. "I was wondering if you weren't gaining new powers based on who you're around. Like, you were hanging out with me and part of my power lets me project an aura at people... similar to what you described doing to the muggers."

"So, I'm… what? Picking up new powers based on who I'm around?" I asked.

"It's a hypothesis," she shrugged. "Like I said, I'm no expert, but some sort of power imitating is what it looks like to me."

Vicky held a hand up and began counting off her fingers after a moment. "First, you weren't around any capes to start with and so you just picked up something that would help solve the problem you had. Second, you were around me and when you got attacked, what you had wasn't enough to solve the problem, so you got something like what I can do. Third, you were really upset and your telekinesis wasn't cutting it, so you got the power to burn things. Guessing you picked that up from one of your friends. I've seen a few of the aftermaths of Hanabi's fights, and everything is blown up and burnt."

"I guess that makes sense," I said tentatively after a moment. It did make a lot of sense, but I could tell it wasn't quite right, since it didn't account for some of what I hadn't told her, what I hadn't told anyone. I couldn't even think of a way to bring that up to Vicky or anyone really. Telling someone; 'Hey, I can read your mind' seemed like a bad idea.

"Of course, to be absolutely sure, you'd want input from of the eggheads who work with the PRT and Protectorate," Vicky said. "They've got contacts with some really brainy types who do nothing but study powers all day every day. The PRT and Protectorate only label them the way they do for how to respond to a situation. The academics go into a lot more depth."

"I see," I nodded slowly. "Well, I don't know the first thing about how to get in touch with them and after today… the Protectorate can kind of go fuck themselves. I'm absolutely not in the mood to talk to any of them."

"You need to do something else to unwind, I think," Vicky said, staring at me seriously for a moment. "Let me think… Ah! I know. Just a second." She dug in a pocket and pulled out a cellphone and began texting. She waited a moment and the phone buzzed.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do," she said a moment later after muttering back and forth and then putting the phone away. "Dinner plans at home are shot because mom's working extra hours to make sure their new person is up to par. One of the other lawyers in the firm had something happen with his family and he's taking leave to deal with that. So, we're going to the hospital to pick up Amy and then we'll go grab dinner, the three of us."

"Your sister?" I blinked. "I don't know…"

"Nope! No arguments from you," she said firmly. "If I ran off, you'd probably spend the night wandering around aimlessly to avoid going home. Maybe even fall asleep on a roof somewhere."

"I could get a motel room," I protested.

"They don't rent to.. what, sixteen year olds?" she asked, then shook her head. "Never mind. Precog. You'd find one that would do that anyway, I bet. It'd be a pig sty though, so dinner and then maybe you can crash at my house. We'll figure something out, but honestly, I'd recommend dealing with it sooner than later."

"I don't," I began, but she shook her head again.

"I have spoken!" she told me firmly, leaning over to poke me just below my collar bone. "Dinner and then you should go talk to your dad. Ignoring it isn't going to make it any better."

"It's worked for him," I muttered under my breath.

"Hey!" Vicky said. "None of that! Now, we're going to the hospital. And one more thing."

"What?" I said, somewhat nettled by her imperious manner as I glowered at her. She paid it no mind, collecting the towels and shoving them into her pack.

"Tag," she grinned, lightly tapping my shoulder. "You're it!"

"Hey!" I shouted as Vicky, laughing, threw herself off the building and shot away. I stared for a second and dropped my feet against the side of the building, pushing with them as I lunged forward, giving chase.

 

[chibipoe]

2.5

Vicky, I had found, was a force of nature once she got going. Unstoppable, and ever moving forward while dragging everything caught up along with her. We had gotten to the hospital and it took all of three minutes before she steamrolled her sister out the door and out to meet me with barely an explanation. The girl was still in costume even, but then again I was the only one not in costume. Vicky was still Glory Girl, Amy was Panacea, and I was….some teenager. And now we were all at Fugly Bob's, which was surprisingly busy for a Monday night. Vicky was busy arguing with someone at the counter about our collective order while I sat in our corner booth somewhat awkwardly with Amy.

I was, thankfully, effectively deaf to the thoughts or feelings of the people around me for the moment. It took the sudden exposure when I had come into the restaurant to make me realize that the sudden change from sky-borne isolation to a crowded shop had left me open to the sounds of a few dozen customers, the sheer number of people and their mental voices breaking through my now-flimsy protective shell.

Had I really been so off my game that it had slipped and I didn't even notice? Either way, it had almost been overwhelming before I put a wall back up. Being able to perceive someone's intentions and know exactly how your words affected them wasn't as much fun as you would think. After today, I was tired of people doing things that made me angry with good intentions behind their actions. Maybe I was being childish, but I had just had so little control over everything today. It was easier to block that off for now and focus on other things.

And not think about the series of bombshells that had been dropped on me. Or now, as the fires died out, how I could have done better reacting to them.

No, right now I had other things to worry about besides my potentially self-destructing life. Like how incredibly awkward the table was at the moment, or rectifying the fact that Vicky's sister was Panacea and how I was about to have dinner with her and Glory Girl. I suppose the only comfort to the fact that I couldn't think of anything to say was that Amy didn't appear to know what to say either. So while Vicky was busy arguing, we were sitting here and it was incredibly awkward.

"So, Hurricane Victoria, huh?" I asked, seizing on the first thing I could think to break the silence between us.

Amy's head snapped around from where she had been staring off into space to look at me. "What did you say?"

Maybe that wasn't the best choice of words. "You know, the way she barreled in at the hospital and then next thing you know, we're here?"

"Oh," Amy said, relaxing a little and releasing a small chuckle. "Yeah, she gets that way sometimes. Best to just go along with it."

I nodded, feeling on more solid footing so I kept talking. "Sorry she sprung this on you. I had a pretty crappy day and she's been trying to cheer me up. I didn't expect for her to just pulling you into coming along without really explaining anything."

"It's okay," she said, staring at her hands for a moment. "I… ah, well, she's mentioned you once or twice, but never said a lot about you."

Well, at least I can say that everyone and their brother doesn't know where Vicky's concerned. I closed my eyes for a moment. No, that wasn't fair to think. I thought about what she had said and the expression that had briefly crossed her face as she spoke. I didn't have to be be a mind-reader to pick up on something that obvious.

"Not much to say," I said with a shrug as I looked around Fugly's. "We bonded over clothes and she ran across me today after everything else went south and made it her personal mission to make my day brighter. Or night, I guess. This is actually the second restaurant she's taken me to tonight to be honest."

Amy looked up, a look of surprise sliding smoothly across her face before frowning slightly at my statement. Or was it at me? "Second? You must have had a really bad day. She doesn't usually do that unless I'm… I mean, unless someone she's close to is really depressed."

I turned slightly in Amy's direction, the temptation to let my walls down a bit and figure out what she was thinking strong. "It hasn't been the best, no. Again, sorry she dragged you into her plans for cheering me up."

"It's fine," Amy said quickly. "I like spending time with her and if she's made a new friend in you, I'd like to get to know you too."

I looked away from her, letting my eyes drift across the room and noting the stares being directed toward us and toward where Vicky was apparently winding down her argument. I didn't need telepathy to tell what everyone was thinking, to feel the curiosity directed toward me since I was sitting with Glory Girl and Panacea.

Lovely. More attention that I just know will come back to bite me somehow. I wasn't sure if I-

"I bring food!" Vicky announced, setting a tray down, drawing my attention from my moment of distraction. Three fugly burgers with all the trimmings and fries on the side, and three sodas sat there and she shifted two of them over to me and Amy.

"Thank you," I said quietly, lifting a fry and dipping it into the ketchup. "Thank you for dinner, Vicky."

"Eat first, then thank me," Vicky told me glibly. "Move over, Ames." She slid into the booth as her sister shifted over.

"So, Taylor was telling me about how you two know each other," Amy said, glancing from her sister to me with a sort of half-smile. I squeezed my french fry a bit harder than necessary and grimaced, switching for another one that wasn't squished.

"Oh, we met while clothes shopping," Vicky said easily. "Taylor's got a great eye for clothes. We spent a while bonding over that. I ran into her again a few weeks ago while I was out with Dean and that's when she got that nice jacket she's wearing right now."

I tilted my head up slightly. "I only have this jacket because someone took advantage of her boyfriend's generosity."

"Oh, please," Vicky said. "Dean could care less about the money. Anyway. I ran across her this evening after I had dropped you off at the hospital, Ames. Skipped my patrol because she seemed rather stressed out."

"You saw her after you dropped me off?" Amy asked, frowning slightly. "Did you stop somewhere? You're usually flying around…"

I saw a look of surprised realization flash across Vicky's face halfway through a fry, her eyes flashing to me and then out across the restaurant and the customers still blatant enough to openly stare. My own realization came a half-second later as I figured out what she was thinking without even needing to listen to her thoughts.

Do I tell her?

For now, at least, the answer was instant and obvious as I shook my head to the negative. In return, Vicky finished off her fry casually before laughing. "Ya, I spotted her moping around a bus stop and dropped in on her."

I finished off another fry, swallowed, then interjected. "I'm just lucky there was no one else at the bus stop. As it was, you scared me silly by just dropping out of the sky like that."

For a moment, I could swear that Amy's frown deepened as she chewed it over in her head. But then she smiled and nodded, seemingly as much to herself as to the white-lie we had both just told. "Well, Vicky does have a soft spot for people having bad days. It's endearing, really."

I picked up another french fry and ate it. These were some of their better fries. Usually they were a touch too greasy, but that wasn't the case tonight. The taste of them helped distract me from the faint sense of something that I couldn't quite identify from Amy. Even through my walls, whatever she was feeling was strong enough that I could feel it. "I'm just glad she happened by. I'm not sure what I would have ended up doing if she hadn't talked me out of my funk with ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Amy repeated, her voice catching oddly as she pinned Vicky with a stare. "You took her out for ice cream?"

Vicky shrugged, unfazed by the accusing stare of her sister. "She was really down and it's the fastest way I know to cheer someone up. Besides, well, you know." She gave a sort of shrug and Amy nodded slightly.

"Well, I don't know," I said with a grin, pointing a french fry like it was a sword at a spot between where they sat. "But that's okay. Your mission of cheering me up has succeeded, unlikely as I thought that was."

"Vicky is a miracle worker," Amy said, "She has a talent for making just about anyone feel better." She gave her sister a bright smile at the compliment even as frowned ever-so-slightly. Something else had bled through with the statement, flowing against the wall around my mind leaving behind something sour and bitter sweet.

Externally, I smiled in response. But internally, I had to stop myself from gnawing on my lip. It was certain now. Or at least, I was certain. Amy didn't like me. Or, she was at least unsure of me and was giving me a cold shoulder. The question was why. Without letting the wall I had raised to dull out the restaurant at large down, I couldn't peek to now. Then there was the whole thing about looking in the mind of my friends sister.

"Vicky, if it's okay," I said, unwilling to go rooting around in her thoughts for the reason why and unsure how to do that while keeping everyone else out. Something to try and practice with at school when I had the chance. "I think I'm going to get this to go. I don't want to go deal with that other thing, but you were right earlier. Putting it off is only going to make it worse."

Vicky's eyes were sympathetic as she nodded. "Go ahead. Let me know how things turn out. I'll come flying if you need support."

I concealed a wince as I felt the thing from Amy again. "I will. Thanks for everything today. It was nice meeting you, Amy."

"The same," Amy said, the words ringing a touch hollow to me as I carried my plate to the counter for a to-go box rather than wait for a server to happen by, given how busy they were. I spent all of thirty seconds at the counter before a plastic bag full of take-out at my side as I returned to the booth one last time. "Thanks again Vicky. I'll see you later, hopefully."

She nodded, smiling warmly at me. "No problem Taylor. Good luck." In return, I chuckled darkly as I turned and left. But as I reached the door, I looked back over my shoulder. "Thanks. I'll probably need it."

Vicky waved in my direction and I smiled before slipping out the door. Foot traffic on the sidewalk was still busy and I navigated it using my precognition until I found a secluded spot. Grateful for my dark clothing, I took off, unnoticed, adjusting my course. The temptation to go to Catherine's and smooth things over with them first was great, but I wasn't sure exactly how to get back there and, more importantly, it was rather late to show up at their doorstep again.

So, instead, I was aiming toward home and what was no doubt going to be an argument with my dad. But for some reason, part of me worried that there wasn't going to be one. Part of me was afraid that when I got home, there wouldn't be a single word said, just a silence that would speak volumes in itself. I honestly didn't know which one I wasn't looking forward to more.

I dropped into a park not far from home, landing in the middle of a cluster of old trees before walking slowly, reluctantly toward the house. No one disturbed me as I followed the road and made the turn onto our street. My dad's truck was in its usual place, so I knew I wasn't going to get the opportunity to avoid this by having him out, letting me pretend to be asleep when he came back.

Stopping a few houses down from ours, I bit my lip as I hesitated. Unbidden, my foresight triggered, playing out several options in turn as my thoughts flickered between action and inaction. I could find a place easily enough. I had the money and with my precognition and ability to read minds, I could easily find a hotel that would let me stay the night. Even a good one, regardless of what Vicky said. Multiple nights even. Money was not an issue that I was likely ever going to have as long as I was careful. I could avoid this entire situation, come back when I knew he wouldn't be here and get some things. Like my costume. Wait till I knew how to handle this so it wouldn't blow up in my face anymore.

The option of going forward played out as well. I couldn't see the present or the past, as far as I was aware, despite that weird moment at the boardwalk, so until I actually entered the house and confronted him it was impossible to say what he had been doing since walking out at the meeting. I shifted my feet against the concrete of the sidewalk, uncertain which way to go.

I was frozen by indecision, eyes clenching shut as I focused and probed my own future. Looking forward, he was there sitting silently in the living room. But at the same time, he was brooding over my costume in the kitchen. My visions splintered like never before. Where I could once follow a thread of thought or a set of action and consequence through several choices if I pushed myself, now the uncertainty I felt shattered the possibilities like glass.

My thoughts swirled and a surge of pain hammered against the inside of my skull as my visions of reality continued to fracture, bringing up more and more options until I braced myself and willed it to stop. When I opened my eyes, I found myself leaning heavily against a wall. My heart and breath were racing, while I was drenched in a cold sweat. The pain was gone, but the impressions of a dozen different possibilities remained.

I waited until my breathing calmed before hesitantly moving away from the wall, trying to make sense of everything. Normally, there was a sense of perfect detail, of clarity. But everything had rushed past so quickly that nothing was clear. I was left with impressions and I took a deep breath before reaching out toward them, focusing not on the possible but the certain.

Splinters of the future slipped out of my hands as I closed in, until ultimately only one remained as it tracked myself into the house, where my father sat with his back to me at the kitchen table. There was something in front of him, but while I couldn't tell what it was, I could tell what it wasn't. And it wasn't my costume.

That, at least, was some form of relief. I could go in to face this argument or whatever with at least one thing still a definite secret. I took a step forward, letting the sequence play out a bit more in my head. Perhaps I could find out what it was he was looking at. I grimaced as I saw myself entering the house, but my dad's arms were across whatever it was. Papers, it looked like, but I couldn't tell anything more than that.

I cancelled the vision, not wanting to deal with the headache that was threatening to return with faint pinpricks of would-be pain. Dad wasn't moving so I guess I was going to have to find out what the papers were the regular way. I sighed and started toward the house, having put this off long enough.

The front porch, for once, made little sound as I reached the front door. It wasn't locked, for which I was thankful and I went inside quietly. My backpack settled on the steps upstairs with a thought and I walked past them toward the kitchen, where I knew my dad to be. I stopped in the kitchen entryway, staring at his back for a moment as he shifted, undoubtedly aware of my presence.

"Sit down, Taylor," he said without looking or turning around. "We need to talk, I think."

I walked past to the refrigerator and got a bottle of juice out. "About what?"

"Today," he said and I didn't need precog or telepathy to feel the hesitation from him. "And other things."

"I don't see that there's much to talk about," I replied. "You weren't keen on talking earlier, remember? When you left me alone to be interrogated by the Protectorate?"
"That was.. I was… upset," he began. "I shouldn't have done that."

"And I likely shouldn't have said what I did," I answered with a shrug. "I did and you did, though, so it doesn't matter what we should have done, only what we did."

"Taylor," my dad said and I turned finally to look at him, my eyes drifting to the papers that he still had covered with his hands. "Is what Armsmaster told me true? Are you a cape?"

I finished the juice bottle and tossed it in the garbage. "Didn't you already hear the truth from Armsmaster? I assumed you had a long talk with him before you showed up with your ambush earlier."

"He's concerned about you, Taylor," he said. "So am I, for that matter."

"That was a funny way to show it," I snapped, then shook my head. "What did he even tell you? Had to be something that got you in there."

My dad's expression tightened. 'Yes. He...he told me that you were a Parahuman. Not just a parahuman, but that you were already out as a cape. Even gave me a voice recording of you as...Siren? Silan? I heard it and I knew it was you..."

"Sirin," I corrected, grimacing. No wonder he hadn't pulled my costume out then. "Well, there you go. Armsmaster has told you everything already and you have an answer."

"No, he hasn't, and I don't," my dad said, his voice rising slightly. "How did this happen, Taylor? When did this happen?"

I froze for a moment, before choking back a sour laugh behind the palm of my hand. "You really need to ask that? When? Of course. Of course. You wouldn't have a clue would you? Can't even guess..."

"How could I?" he demanded. "You never talk about anything!"

"Neither do you!" I retorted, fists clenched at my sides as I stared at him. "That's part of the whole problem! You've completely forgotten how. And you expect me to talk?"

My dad fell silent, lacking a reply to that and I let the silence stand, taking the opportunity to calm myself as I felt my temper spiking.

"You're right," he finally said. "I don't know how to talk to you any more, Taylor." He glanced down at the table and my eyes followed to the papers he had there. His hands shifted and the logo of the Protectorate became visible. I frowned at it and gave the papers a tug with my telekinesis, shifting them a bit more.

"You might not know how to talk to me," I said, the word almost a snarl as the title of the papers became clear. "But I guess you know someone who does, huh? Application for Wards entry, really?"

His voice was firm as he moved his hands to show the papers. "This is the best thing, Taylor. They can help you."

"Help me?" I repeated, a bitter edge to my voice. "How? Convince me to work alongside people who would do things to me like Sophia did? To deal with all of that again?"

"Deal with what, Taylor?" he demanded. "How am I supposed to make a decision when I don't know everything, much less anything? You're right that I don't know what to do. They do. And at least with them, I can feel as if I'm doing the right thing in keeping you safe."

"Safe? This isn't safe, this is you wanting to feel like you're doing something!" I snapped, almost shouting. "You've made up your mind already, haven't you? What I want doesn't even figure!"

"This is safer than what you've been doing!" he countered. "Going out alone, with no one to back you up! Not telling anyone!"

"I did tell someone!" I fired off, unwilling to back down. "I just didn't tell you."

His expression darkened. "Yes. You didn't tell me. I don't know if you ever intended to. And that's the problem. At least the Wards will. Maybe then I can understand what's happening."

I stared at him, stunned, as the meaning of his words sunk in. "You're going to sign those, to make me join the Wards."

"You need help, Taylor," he insisted. "I can't give that. They can."

I shook my head, biting back a retort that would have sounded childish. "I don't get any input, then?"

He stared at me. "I wasn't aware that decisions about my daughter's safety were something that I had to open for discussion."

"It is when it's to force me to do something I already told them no about!" I shouted. "You can sign those all you want, bu-"

The look on his face was stony as he cut me off with a shake of his head while crossing his arms. "But for once, I can do the right thing. I can do something now which I should have long ago. No matter if you like it or not. It might be late for me to try, but as your parent, this is something I think I have to do," His expression softened, and I was almost taken back by the sudden lack of aggression. "Please Taylor. Don't fight this. I just...I just don't want to lose you."

I could feel the emotions flashing across my face, matching the ones I was feeling both from myself and my father.Just....too many to handle. But anger, even dulled, was the strongest. I distantly noticed that all the heat in my voice had been replaced with a calm, icy tone. It wasn't an accusation, or even hostile. Somewhere, I knew it was just an admittance. "Yes. I suppose if anything, you're late to trying."

I turned away, starting toward the hall. I didn't even need to see as I reached out to the hiding spot in my room. The door banged open an instant later and I caught my costume before it would have hit me in the face.

"What are you doing?" my dad asked, shock clear in his voice at the display of my powers as my bag flew into my hand and I carelessly shoved the costume in and zipped it closed. "Taylor?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said, starting toward the front door. He clearly had figured out what I was doing as he came out of the kitchen, trying to move past me to block the exit. I didn't even slow down, simply blocking him with a telekinetic wall.

"Taylor, what…" he began, realizing he couldn't move forward. "Taylor!"

I pulled the door open. "I'll be back, maybe, after I've had some time to think." He was saying something, but I tuned him out as I walked through the door. Six steps forward and I was clear of the porch and airborne, letting the wall holding back my father vanish. I glanced down to see my dad coming out, but I was already well out of reach. But the sad look on his face as I rose into the air pulled at my heart even as I kept going.

~~~~~~~~​

"Understood," Armsmaster said, wincing at the distinctly unhappy voice almost yelling in his ear. "No, I do understand, Mr. Hebert. I'll see what I can do." The line disconnected and he guided his motorcycle to a stop. Miss Militia brought her own motorcycle to a halt beside his, glancing his way with an inquisitive tilt to her head.

"Hebert," he said shortly, a sour note to his voice. "Her father's decision apparently did not sit well at all and she, and I quote, flew off."

Miss Militia frowned, even as she looked up the street ahead. "I'm still a bit surprised myself that you were right, but you feel responsible, don't you?"

"This is exactly the scenario I wanted to avoid," he grimaced. "Now we have an angry, disillusioned teenage girl with powers somewhere in the city. Which could, in fact, be anywhere since she can apparently fly too."

"You're certain she was telekinetic?" Miss Militia asked, looking thoughtful.

"The door moved with no visible input from her," he replied. "It was a logical conclusion. Mr. Hebert said she prevented him from stopping her using some sort of invisible wall," Behind his visor, his eyebrow hitched. "Why do you ask?"

Similarly, she smiled from behind her costume. Albeit he couldn't see her mouth, he was familiar enough with her to see the signs. "Well, it sounds like you intend to try and find her. I believe having an estimate of her abilities, considering it sounds as if she is in less than an open mood seems wise. So a telekinetic, or some sort of projected force-field?"

There was a moment of silence as Armsmaster considered her statement, before nodding. "There is also a thinker aspect as well, but I am uncertain of what it is. It seems to be related to gathering information, but that is all I know."

Miss Militia took a moment to be silent herself. "Given that your conversation suggested that she is likely to respond negatively, should we have a squad standing by if she becomes hostile?"

He shook his head, the motion sharp and frustrated. "No. This has already gotten out of control. The last thing we should do now is have a squad nearby. If she picks up on it, she'll definitely turn hostile. Damnit, I wanted to give her time to mull over what we discussed. Her father meant well, but his actions have made this situation more complicated. I expect we'll hear from the Director shortly."

The internal clock built into Armsmaster's armor clicked past precisely three seconds after he said that before the built-in comm came to life with the Director's line. He grimaced and sighed as he accepted the call.

"Director," he answered evenly. "What seems to be the issue?"

"The Hebert girl," she said, going straight to the point. "I've looked over the information from her father and listened to the recent call. What is the status on this?"

"You know as much as I do at the moment, Director," he replied, rolling his eyes and glancing toward Miss Militia. "I was preparing to try and track her down when you called."

"Find her and bring her in, Armsmaster," she said firmly. "Once the father signs the papers, we're going to have to meet with her anyways. I want her in my office as soon as possible, not tearing about Brockton Bay doing who knows what!"

"As soon as I have a-" he cut off as his display flashed a message that the call had disconnected. "Riveting discussion as always, Director."

"Displeased, is she?" Miss Militia asked.

"To put it mildly," he answered, grimacing yet again. "Assignment is to locate Miss. Hebert and have her in the Director's office as soon as possible," He sighed, before adding "As expected."

"I'm surprised she's still in the office, given the hour," she observed with a frown. "It can't be healthy for her."

"She rejected my latest submission for upgrades to the dialysis machines," he shrugged. "They would have improved things for her by quite a bit. At any rate, you're with me. So, you're a teenage girl on the outs with your father. Where do you go?"

"A friend's house?" Miss Militia offered, then shook her head. "No, she wouldn't want word getting back to her dad. If not a friend, then somewhere she knows. Some place she feels in control. Or, if she's angry, some place she can take it out on. Or someone. She's been out in costume, correct?"

"Twice," he nodded. "Or at least I believe so. Friday night and she was in the company of Glory Girl, then Saturday night she stopped some men ripping off an electronics store. Fairly minor, but I'm certain she was testing herself."

"So, someplace she feels in control or can take out her frustrations on," Miss Militia repeated. "Someone is possible as well."

"To take her frustrations out on," he repeated to himself as he mused for a moment, rolling the words around in his thoughts as he spoke. "It's a long shot, but we do know someplace that was recently trashed…"

"The Boat Graveyard?" she asked. "You think that might have been her?"

"As I said, a long shot," Armsmaster replied. "I'm hoping not, because the amount of damage there…"

Miss Militia simply frowned. "I suppose we should hurry then." He nodded and started forward, her own motorcycle following closely behind.

* * *​

The Boat Graveyard lay dark before them and Armsmaster eyed the mass of ships sourly. "Well, there's no signs of anyone trashing it at least. Finding her if she's here brooding might be a chore though."

"I don't think we'll have to look very hard," Miss Militia said and he followed her arm to where she was pointing. There, barely visible except for splashes of color, Taylor Hebert hung in the air.

"Well, now we have to figure out how to get her attention and get her down here to talk to us," he remarked, his systems enhancing the image several times so he was certain it was her. Confirmation was easy enough. She was wearing the same clothes as when he had met with her at the school. But the stillness as she simply stared out across the graveyard didn't give him the highest of hopes.

Instead, he turned to Miss Militia. "It is her. But I don't think I should be the one to approach her."

Miss Militia nodded, but there was a quirk to her eye as she did. "Is this because of the school, or…?"

He paused for a moment, continuing to look up at the distant figure. "Both. If I approach her, there is a high chance that this will simply come apart at the seams. She has a distrust for authority figures and I've already pressured her both directly and apparently indirectly today. If it's me, she will simply refuse to talk to us at best. Actively work against us at worse. If you're the one to approach her, she might listen."

"And what will you be doing?" she asked, frowning as she tracked the barely noticeable movements of the girl.

"Here, but keeping my mouth shut as much as possible," he said. "It would probably be best if I weren't here at all, but since I am, the best course is if I stay quiet and avoid drawing her attention. The longer, the better the chances you have."

"More and more, I'm thinking that this is a bad idea, you realize?" she told him with a faint grin.

For a moment, he looked like he was about to agree. But ultimately he just shook his head. "Miss Hebert's issue is that she doesn't trust anyone. Everyone is an enemy, either working against her or not helping her at all. And trying to talk to an enemy is rarely a good idea. But getting her to talk and listen is the only option we have to convince her otherwise. All we can do is try to get her to actually think about what we are saying rather than rejecting it out of hand."

Miss Militia looked over at him, a wry smile beneath her bandana. "You should teach more often, I think. It has done you a world of good. Next time you do, take the paperwork with you."

"Go get her attention," he said gruffly, shifting his stance awkwardly. "I'll be over here out of the way. You can keep doing the paperwork, you're clearly more efficient at it than I am."

"Right," she rolled her eyes and started toward the edge of the dock where the boats were piled against. "Ms. Hebert, could you come down here, please?"

Standing where he was, Armsmaster felt when her attention shifted from whatever she had been contemplating toward them. It was like a palpable weight settling on him and he was struck by the thought that she had likely known they were there the whole time.

Still, she did not turn and leave, instead dropping down until she settled on the ground a short distance away from Miss Militia.

Her arms crossed as a displeased look appeared on her face. "Haven't you contributed enough to today? What do you want now? Another slice of my life up in flames?"

Miss Militia didn't appear to be fazed by the hostile tone. "We had heard about things not going well, and we, I, wanted to clear the water. This isn't ideal for anyone. The last thing we wanted was to force this."

"Really? Clear the water from what? You getting what you want? Not going to try and sell me what you've already sold my dad about the Wards again?" Taylor snorted bitterly, her gaze flicking toward him for a moment. "I mean, you've already pulled that stunt after I told you I wasn't interested weeks ago. But no is hard to understand, I guess?"

"You're right," Miss Militia said simply.

The girl blinked, a look of almost-stunned surprised flashing on her features before they hardened again. "What?"

"We should have accepted your answer when we spoke after Sophia, even if we didn't know for certain at the time that you were a parahuman," Miss Militia went on. "But there were larger things in play, and your case got caught in the middle."

"You aren't the one who needs to apologize," Taylor said, a flash of heat entering into her voice. "My dad filled in the papers long before I got home. He made his choice. My issues are with the ones who gave them to him in the first place. The one who scared him into this. I said 'No' to the Wards. And someone decided that meant 'Yes' at some point. The Wards were the last place I wanted to be. But apparently that was never going to be my choice."

"Taylor," Miss Militia said calmly. "Most capes operating alone don't last long at all. The independent villains are the only known exceptions and that's only because most of them are too small time for the gangs to pay them any attention. I've seen more people like you than I care to think about, teenagers who get powers and go out on their own. More of them die within their first week than I like to think about."

"I know that," Taylor snapped. "I did my research on that much at least. I never planned to go in blind, and I didn't. I made sure I knew the risks. Made sure that I never went above my head. I was being careful."

"I'm not saying that you weren't, or that you haven't," Miss Militia said. "The fact is, that operating alone means you have no support network, no one to back you up. It only takes one mistake, Taylor."

Armsmaster frowned as the last exchanged caused the girl's face to twist with another flash of barely concealed anger. Had Militia unintentionally hit on something? But at the same time, he could see that she was thinking. It was working. He hoped.

"And the Wards are supposed to be the answer to that?" she countered. "The same program that you told me Sophia could and likely would be forced into? How is what's happening now any different from that? He used my dad to railroad me into this!" She pointed at Armsmaster, who shifted at the statement, but said nothing.

Miss Militia didn't look in his direction. "Armsmaster took action on his own initiative, yes. This was not the result he intended. He misjudged the situation and none of us were expecting things to play out as they did. He wanted to reach out to help, allow you make the choice. Not force you into this."

"And, what, that makes it alright?" she demanded furiously. "My dad's already made up my mind for me, apparently, so I think you're wasting your time here."

"We don't want to be at odds, Taylor," Miss Militia said evenly. "If you'll be joining th-"

"Don't you mean when?" Taylor asked snidely, her face flushed.

"We aren't your enemy, Taylor," Miss Militia told her.

"You aren't my friends, either," she snarled. "And even then, I've had enough of them today. So don't try painting this as some altruistic act. That damn bird appeared and suddenly, everyone is paying attention to Winslow, to me. I get powers, and then every single time I turn around someone is dropping bombs on my life. I was at least able to live together with my dad even if it wasn't perfect, and now I can't even do that. All because some idiot took a match to the sky."

"That is a concern to us," Miss Militia said. "Less of one now that there hasn't been another appearance, but it isn't what has motivated anything that we've done where you are concerned."

"Maybe you are," she said grudgingly, as if the admission cost her something to say. Her hand came up to point at Armsmaster again. "He's more concerned about that damn bird than anything else, though!"

Armsmaster shifted, frowning at the absolute certainty in her voice. It was like during the meeting, when she had figured out he was her teacher. How did she know that was something he had been musing on while Miss Militia made her case?

"Armsmaster and myself are concerned, just like your father is. While we didn't mean for this to happen as it did, we do want to help. We want to fix our misstep and try to get off on a better foot." Miss Militia said firmly.

"You do mean that," Taylor said quietly, a touch of confusion in her voice. "But I don't think you can fix this."

"Unless you let us try," Miss Militia replied gently. "We'll never know whether we can, Taylor."

The underlying hostility in the girl's stance faded and her shoulders slumped slightly. "Fine. What do you want? What is it that we do now?"

"The Director would like to speak with you," Miss Militia told her. "To advise you on expectations, I assume."

Taylor made a face, shaking her head. "Now?"

"That is what she instructed, yes," Miss Militia said.

"Then I suppose we should go," Taylor said, shifting where she stood and turning to look off away from them, her forehead creased slightly. A moment passed and she looked back in their direction, the oddest smile on her face. "I suppose I should hear her out then."

"I don't believe you should accompany us on our motorcycles to the PRT headquarters," Miss Militia said. "Too much of a risk that someone might see your face. You can fly, correct?"

Taylor nodded. "I know where the PRT headquarters is. I can land on the roof or something. It's late enough that no one is likely to see me."

Miss Militia looked toward Armsmaster, who nodded curtly. "That will do. We'll call ahead so that no one attempts to restrain you or attack."

"Whatever," Taylor said. "I'll meet you there." Without another word, she took flight and was gone. Miss Militia stood for a moment, trying to see where the girl had vanished to before turning to Armsmaster.

"We should go," he said. "If her flight speed is anything like those we have on record, she'll be there well before us."

"Agreed," Miss Militia said. "That went better than you were expecting?"

"It did," Armsmaster rumbled. "Though I can't explain the sense of impending doom that I have when I think about her meeting the Director."

"You're being paranoid," she told him with a short laugh. "It won't be that bad."

"We'll assume you're right," he said, mulling over the vacant look Taylor Hebert had before that odd smile. "Either way, let's go." He didn't wait for a response, stepping onto his bike and taking off in a fluid motion. Miss Militia looked around for a moment before following after him.

--

 

[chibipoe]

2.6

The rooftop was devoid of any obvious guards when I started to touch down, although the series of blinding lights pointing skyward made it hard to tell for sure. As I landed though, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. One pattern of lights lit a path straight to a nearby door, and I could imagine that if I looked again, it would be a landing pad from above. With both feet firmly planted, I gazed around for a moment, rubbing my arms against the chill breeze as I debated with myself one last time over continuing or just leaving.

Miss Militia's argument had brought me here and just a few more steps would continue what my dad had started with filling out those papers. Right now, I still had a choice. I could say 'no' and just turn around and fly away, and nothing would stop me. And I wanted to, just so badly wanted to. But at the same time, another part of me asked if I wanted to go back to my father? That was a question that I honestly didn't want to answer.

But after everything else, all the anger, all the frustration, looking at the door just made me realize one thing.

I'm tired.

I was done with today in all its moments. But thinking back, I was tired of myself. The shocks were done, the reveals had happened, and the conflicts in retrospect were lost. I had won in the fact I had gotten in the last words. But without the haze of my frustrations and anger, I realized that having the last words hadn't been worth it. I collapsed inward on myself, shrinking into my jacket as the heat seemed to leave me with the thought. I just wanted everything to end and to pretend like I hadn't made the mistakes I did.

I laughed bitterly at that. Like I could turn back time and not be an idiot a second time round. I couldn't help but tick off those mistakes, one by one.

Catherine and Minako had at least deserved a chance to explain. For every failing I had thrown at my dad, there was one I was probably guilty of as well. I had taken all that anger from Armsmaster and I had dumped it on everyone else in turn, not listening and just letting it speak for me. As much as I wanted to place all the blame for today on someone else, I couldn't deny my own part. I was as much to blame for everything self-destructing as anyone else.

I uncrossed my arms to look up, thinking of my dad and what had brought me here as I began trying to pick out stars. I gave up after a moment. With the roof lights, I couldn't see any of the ones I usually looked for. At least the moon was visible, a waning crescent that filled me with melancholy as I stared upward.

I looked away from it quickly, shivering like someone had poured cold water down my back. Thoughts of earlier replaced the sadness, as embers of my earlier anger igniting for a moment and my fists clenched. The core of it was that feeling of betrayal when he had told me I didn't have choice in the matter, that he thought he could just suddenly dictate my actions after ignoring everything. No asking or anything, just his choice out of the blue that made me grit my teeth.

The anger vanished as quickly as it had started, leaving exhausted clarity. I wasn't sure we could fix this, after the things I, we, had said. I wasn't sure I wanted to. His choice had lead here. But my choice had sparked it. Which circled me round again to what I was going to do now. I could stay here to hear the Director out or leave and ignore this entirely. The urge at the back of my mind itched, to use my precognition and chart the results of both actions.

But I wouldn't, at least not going back. I was going to stay. This ended now, one way or another. I would resolve this, I had to. Because before I could go back and fix my other mistakes, I had to try and fix this one. The resolution at least gave me something to focus on, something to draw my attention from how my hair was a mess from flying, or how it felt like I had weights on the end of my eyelids and how my muscles felt drawn and painfully tight.

"I hear them out. That's it. After all," I said with a dry laugh. "What are they going to say that could make it worse?" Miss Militia had been honest, so I could at least start by standing by what I had said. I nodded to myself as the decision was made, looking toward the door, somewhat curious as to why I was still alone. I started to reach forward trying to see if I was expected to enter by myself or not when it opened on it's own and I cut off my peek at the future.

A uniformed PRT agent stepped out, looking around for a second before her eyes settled on me. She was taller than me, blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. A questioning smile broke out on her face as she gave me a once over as she approached me.

"I assume you're who I'm supposed to meet, yes?" she asked, giving the roof another survey before once more fixing her regard on me. One hand came up, holding an ID card toward me. "Lieutenant Danica Simmons."

"That's me," I almost-mumbled, lowering my walls to try and get a feel for her. I immediately regretted this as I hadn't realized that there were a lot of people in the building beneath my feet. I hastily rebuilt the blocks, hiding my sigh of relief as one of exhaustion as the noise faded to an almost inaudible murmur before I blinked away the fuzz at the edges of my vision and smiled hollowly. "I guess I'm here to see the Director?"

Danica nodded. "So I was told. The Director is indisposed handling some medical issues and will be occupied with that for awhile longer. I can show you to a waiting room, if you'd like or, with your permission, I could give you a bit of a tour to pass the time?"

I closed my eyes, feigning deep thought as I reached forward, tracing myself on the first option. In the end, all I could see was myself, lounging in a bare room as the minutes passed. In the end, nothing happened and I was welcoming quietly into the room and I cut if off. I opened my eyes and nodded."The tour sounds nice, actually."

The agent nodded, smiling as she gestured for me to follow after her. "Great! While I can't take you everywhere, There are a few spots I can show you." As she guided me through the door, I looked behind me and upward to the sliver of the moon again and I felt that odd sense of melancholy once more before the door closed behind me.

~~~~~~~~​

The clicking of the machine as it did its work was almost enough to lull her into a drowsing sleep as she leaned back into the medical chair, lit almost solely by the light of her laptop. The room itself was dim bordering on dark, the lights turned low but not so low as to not afford her enough light to work by, because there was always work, but not enough that anyone who had to enter her presence could see her like this.

Not that there was any chance of that. She had standing orders not to be disturbed during this time unless there was an emergency. Nothing was occurring now that warranted interrupting the session. Not even the mess that was finally coming to a head, which was the situation that had kept one of the Protectorate occupied on what she had felt was a wild goose chase.

Today had proven her wrong, but the information scattered across the surface in front of her still merited a thorough assessment. The girl was volatile and Armsmaster's speculations suggested that she had enough power to be a concern. Emily Piggot sighed, massaging the sides of her head as she considered the options for handling the situation. Her eyes tracked across the reports, several of which were hastily assembled evaluations of how she was likely to be thinking, provided by the Thinkers in PRT employ.

Most of it was going to be useless, she knew, as teenagers tended toward the mercurial so often that determining what they would do was often difficult to predict. Still, they were at least going to give her enough information to build the best method of settling the powder keg of issues around the girl.

The Director's attention was drawn away from the papers to her laptop, the reports that Armsmaster had submitted after he and Miss Militia had met with the girl filling most of the screen. She took note of his belief that she had some sort of intuition into what people were thinking. If that were true, it would make it difficult to convince her with her normal methods. Thinkers were always troublesome. One had to be creative, mercurial even. The worst part was not knowing what a Thinker was doing precisely.

She looked over the notes on what they had determined about the girl's home life, explicitly the father, both from the recordings of his call to Armsmaster and what had been investigated independently. His overzealousness in pursuing this matter was proving indirectly useful and she wondered for a moment how he had provoked her to such hostility with the information available.

A schism between father and daughter over his making a decision without consulting her. She considered that fact, tapping a finger on the table rhythmically as she did so. That was an avenue she could explore. Done properly, she could widen the gulf between them and secure a potential asset for the Wards by redirecting any anger away from them towards a more familial source.

A downward twist of her lips accompanied the dismissal of the notion. It was tempting, but left too many cracks that others could exploit. She needed the girl on board willingly, not through sleight of hand that might be uncovered. No, playing the girl against her father was not an approach she needed to pursue. Best that any further breaks between them had no hint of PRT or Protectorate involvement at all, given what had occurred already.

That lever discarded, she continued in thought. Plans were weighed, compared, and tossed away when found wanting. She reduced the issue to something like a numerical problem: what combination of factors would increase the standing power of the Wards and Protectorate, and indirectly the PRT? What ones would decrease potential damage and maximize the payoff?

Her eyes settled on one line of text in one of the reports, from either Armsmaster or Miss Militia, she wasn't sure who, remarking on the girl's frustrations with people making decisions or talking at her. The girl was a combination of a near-paranoid distrust of authority combined with recent events into an emotional bomb ready to go off. In the reports own words, 'Everyone is an enemy' to her.

Emily Piggot nodded to herself as a method of approach took shape. It was going to be tricky, given the potential minefield the girl was likely to be, but if she played her cards right, then she could turn this into a benefit for all involved. The key would be choice. Both illusionary and real. Start with that and build from there.

She looked at the clock, noting the time. The doctor would be in shortly to get her detached from this and then she could meet with Taylor Hebert. She began cleaning up the files spread out before her, then sent a message to the agent she had escorting the girl around the less sensitive parts of the building. She was going to get unhooked, cleaned up and then she would see what could be done with this situation.

~~~~~~~~​

The building that served as the headquarters of the PRT in downtown Brockton Bay was surprisingly welcoming once you got inside. I wasn't sure if this was simply a front, but the hallways I was led down had an air of welcome and comfort about them that made it hard to ward off my drowsiness. It was probably helped by the emotional echoes of genuine concern and belief in their duty that I felt from a good handful of the people throughout the building. Nearly everyone I could feel was sincere in their desire to help make things a better place.

There still was, however, an undercurrent of hopelessness, a sense of near-constant agitation. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why or where it was coming from as there were enough people in the building that if I dropped my shields to look in depth, I'd be overwhelmed like I was at Fugly Bob's. I followed the agent who had met me on the rooftop. Danica was now guiding me on a roundabout tour to what I assumed would end with the Director's office while I gave half my attention to her and half to looking around as we descended through the building towards our destination.

I didn't know a great deal about the Director of the PRT, but the brief moment I had dropped my shields a little to get a better feel for the people in the building, I had found one who had a lot more occupying their thoughts than what I assumed were the rank and file staff did. That was probably the Director and the impressions I had gotten were of a person determined to do their job no matter what, mixed with discontentment of some sort. Still, I felt a strange mix of guilt and glee that she was here this late dealing with me. For my PRT guide though, it was mostly guilt. She had been polite to me so far.

"I'm sorry to have you here, showing me around when it's so late," I said, glancing at my cellphone's clock as I broke my silence while following behind her with my shoulders hunched, trying to stay tense to ward off my exhaustion . It was late. I hadn't realized what time it was, with all that was happening. It made me realize just how much I had to fight to not mumble my words and keep the world in focus. Or how much my contacts itched. "I'm surprised the Director is here at all, given the time."

"Well, this is when it gets busiest, actually. Mondays are always long days for her. Meetings during the day and overseeing everything else in the evening," Danica said, grimacing slightly as she glanced in my direction. "She shouldn't pull such long hours though, given her health."

"I can come back tomorrow," I offered, the desire to sleep prodding the words out before I could think further on what she was saying. "I can find a place to stay and be back first thing in the morning, if that will work better."

Danica waved a hand. "Mondays are just her longest days, is all. Some of us don't think she should work late, though, for her own well-being."

It took me a moment to consider it, but ultimately I decided to probe more on the fact contained in her statement. "She's ill?" I frowned slightly. That could be the person I had felt initially. Determined to do their job even if they were sick. That didn't seem like all of it though.

"Not ill, but not well," Danica explained after a moment, looking off into the distance for a second before smiling. "All the same, while she can be difficult and a few of us worry about her, I don't think I could ask for a better boss."

"Really?" I asked, feeling a strong sense of pride from her even through my walls. She meant what she said about the Director. I turned my head slightly, staring at a wall as I tentatively started to stretch my thoughts out toward others, to see if they felt the same.

"Are you coming?" Danica's questioning voice intruded on what I was doing, drawing my attention back to myself.

"Oh, sorry," I murmured, blinking and pulling back. "I spaced out."

"A bit overwhelming, is it?" she asked with a smile. A couple of uniformed PRT agents came down the hall from the direction we were going, talking animatedly. They fell silent as they saw Danica, snapped quick salutes before moving on and resuming their conversation.

"It is a bit," I told her, looking back at the pair for a moment. "Something going on? They seemed kind of excited."

"We had a new Ward transfer in, finally," Danica said. "It's kicked up a bit of a fuss. The Wards are also changing shifts, so everyone's handling that as well."

"Another new Ward?" I asked, smiling wryly at the thought. "A good thing, I hope?"

Danica nodded and looked at me for a moment, measuring me. I kept still as much I was wanted to. For all that she had been amicable and easy to talk to, Danica's gaze now was assessing me in a way that left me wanting to move away or draw her attention to anything else.

"I believe so," she finally said, settling back into the easygoing manner she had before. "I won't lie, as far as capes go, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered when you look the rest of the city. There's more villains than both combined and even if you count the independents on our side, we still are at a disadvantage. Everyone we can get is a boost to our effectiveness."

I nodded silently, mulling over her words as she drew a phone from her pocket and looked at something on the screen. Danica sent off what I thought were multiple messages quickly, then looked at me.

"So, the Director's finishing up and should be ready to meet with you shortly," she said. "In the meantime, I've cleared the cafeteria. Did you want to get anything to eat or drink real quick?"

"I'm not hungry," I said with a shake of my head, realizing it was true. I still had the box with the burger tucked into one pocket of my backpack, but there was no desire to eat. I just felt too tired to even take the effort. "I wouldn't mind something to drink though."

"That," Danica smiled as she spoke, "we can do. Follow me."

~~~~~~~~​

Vista dropped her mask into a nearby chair. "That was boring. I get the PR angle, but do we honestly have to stop for every single tourist on the Boardwalk? I swear we're not going to waste our time with stupid patrols of the boardwalk where we end up getting our pictures taken more than actually stopping crime when I get a say."

"Don't you have some growing before the- hey!" Clockblocker rubbed the back of his head, ducking away as she raised her fist menacingly from the other side of the room. "That was uncalled for."

"Not funny," she growled before going over to the miniature refrigerator and pulling a bottle of chocolate milk out. "I mean, I heard 'Oh, you're so cute' so much tonight."

"Well, you are, half-pint," he said, pulling his own mask off and walking over. She gave him an irritated look as he ruffled her hair, pushing his hand away.

"Dennis, stop," she said plaintively. "I'm not a kid!"

"Missy," he said seriously. "We're all kids as far as Piggy is concerned. It'll get better, I'm sure."

She glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You've got less than a year and you'll be in charge when Aegis switches teams."

"Don't remind me," he said sourly, holding his hands up. "Not looking forward to that. Gallant can have the job as far as I am concerned."

"Excuse me," a female voice interrupted and both turned to see an asian girl with a backpack slung over one shoulder standing in the doorway. "This is the Wards meeting room, right?"

"That's us!" Dennis said brightly. "You're our new member?"

"Flechette. Lily Kitazawa, as well, I suppose." she answered, before smiling and dropping her backpack into a corner chair. "I'm going out on a limb, but… Vista and Clockblocker?"

Dennis laid a hand against his forehead. "I've been found out. Yes, I'm Vista. Don't tell-ow!"

Vista moved her foot off of his. "You're not funny. I'm Vista and he's Clockblocker."

"It's just the two of you?" she asked, looking around at the mostly empty common area curiously.

"Oh, the others are getting ready to go out or just coming in for monitor duty," Vista explained. "We just got back, actually."

"I'm here!" Kid Win called out, rushing into the room and almost stumbling. He was struggling with some part of his costume. "Sorry, dinner was a huge thing and ran long. I'm not late, am I? Please tell me I'm not late. Piggot's going to have my head if I'm late to patrol again."

"You're fine," Dennis said. "We just got back in and were meeting with our new member."

"Oh!" he blinked, looking at Lily for a meet. "Sorry, didn't notice you. I'm Chris. Kid Win."

"Lily," she said, smiling at him as well.

"Nice meeting you," he said, glancing at the other two. "Do you guys know what's going on upstairs? I wanted to get something from the cafeteria to take with, but the guards were out keeping anyone away."

"The Director's meeting with someone," Triumph's voice cut in as he entered with Aegis in tow. "We're supposed to stay out of the way until it's sorted out. That's all I know at the moment. Kid, you and Aegis should be going if you don't want to be late."

"Got it," Kid Win said, going to a locker and taking out what looked like a skateboard. "Ready, future boss?"

Aegis nodded, looking toward him from where he have been speaking to Lily. "Let's go. It was nice meeting you, Lily. We'll talk more when we get back, if you're still here."

"Gallant and Browbeat have the last patrol," Vista said sourly, moving to the couch and dropping onto it with a pout. "They'll probably show up here in a bit."

"What's that about?" Lily asked quietly, nodding toward Vista, who had turned on the television and was morbidly clicking through channels.

"Hm? Oh, that. Well…" He walked toward the other side of the room and Lily followed. "Missy's kind of got a crush on-" The words died in his throat as he slowly turned, to find that the two of them were now standing near the couch.

"Vista's got a crush on…?" The youngest Ward asked, forcing a smile at him.

"On Browbeat?" he finished with a grin.

"No." Vista said, snorting. "That'd just be weird."

He blinked. "Wait, what? Why? He's a handsome guy… I'm told… by people who like guys… I wouldn't know myself. At all."

Lily's eyes sparkled as she covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm sure. Vista, what do you think?"

"Well!" He said, a touch too loud, drowning out whatever she had been about to say. "What do you think is up with Piggy's secret meeting?"

"Someone changing sides, maybe?" Vista wondered. "Seems like it's something important if they're blocking off places. Maybe don't want someone to be seen?"

"I don't know if things are done the same here," Lily said. "But this sounds like the practice if there is someone they don't want seeing certain places or people. Or those people seeing him or her. First time security procedures, it sounds like."

"I suppose if they want us to know, we'll be told," he finally shrugged before almost bouncing. "Who's up for video games?"

"Don't sit near him if you play," Vista said, standing up. "He cheats with his powers."

"I'll play if I get to pick," Lily said, grinning in a way that made Dennis uncomfortable.

"Um, sure?" he agreed with a nervous smile.

"You have Doki Doki Revolution?" she asked, looking over the gaming equipment and the platform with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes that turned into an outright sparkle as she honed in on the appropriate gear.

Vista looked confused at the wolfish grin on Lily's face while Clockblocker, feeling a new sense of metaphorical gaming doom, swallowed nervously as he now-shyly replied in a half timid "Yes…?"

"Perfect!" she said gleefully. "Help me get this set up and we'll started."

~~~~~~~~​

I didn't say anything as Danica pushed the button on the panel and the elevator doors closed, beginning its ascent to the floor where the Director's office was. I spent the wait leaning against the elevator wall, eyes closed as I tried to relax just enough that I wouldn't appear nervous without dozing off. I had a half-finished bottle of tea that barely qualified as such now tucked in my backpack from the cafeteria. The brief stop in the cafeteria had done nothing to spark an appetite, leaving me potentially less hungry than I was before I entered.

"Now," Danica said, breaking the silence after a moment. "Please understand that how all this happened wasn't intended to happen as it did. I cannot speak for others, but I can say that while your day was incredibly stressful, keep in mind that none of us, especially not the Director, are against you. Whatever you decide, remember that, please?"

I nodded without opening my eyes, somewhat enjoying the cool metal of the wall. The chill was actually starting to help against a building migraine as I had to keep diverting more focus to keeping my mental walls up. "I will." I recited more than actually said. The pace had slowed down after the cafeteria and what energy I had been running on to keep myself going seemed almost completely spent now. Curling up in bed seemed highly appealing now and I wondered if I could put this off until the morning.

No, I was here and the Director was too. Running off now would just sour everything. I had agreed to come here and hear her out and that, at least, I was going to do. The elevator dinged and the doors slowly opened, revealing another hallway that looked more or less identical to several others that I had been in since I got here.

"This way," Danica said, making a left turn into the same waiting area I had seen in my mind earlier. In the corner of the space, the door with Director printed on the glass sat closed. "Let me check that she's in and I'll be right back." I nodded and settled into a chair, depositing my backpack beside me as she disappeared through the door.

My eyes drifted toward my pack and I saw the zipper had come undone, revealing part of my costume. I bit my lip at the sight of it. Should I go change into it? Be Sirin for this meeting instead of Taylor?

I shook my head and pulled the zipper closed. No, no point to that now. Everyone it mattered with at the moment knew who I was anyways. Putting it on would just be an exercise in redundancy. I had other things that I could worry about, like not letting myself be suddenly overwhelmed by telepathic background noise. Still, I was pulled from my musings as the door opened again and my PRT escort exited and gestured to the door.

"She'll see you now," Agent Dianca looked down at my pack and offered a hand forward. "I could hold that if you want, or…?"

"I don't imagine you'll let me just carry a pack in to the Director's office that hasn't been searched," I said with a bit of forced humor.

"I promise it'll be fine," Danica said while she gave me a small smile "It'll be here when you get out." Ultimately, I nodded silently as I passed it over. I took a deep breath and went in, letting the door close behind me.

The woman behind the desk looked unwell, was my first thought. It was quickly replaced with stern as I looked closer. She was wearing a slightly rumpled white dress shirt, with a similarly rumpled suit jacket in navy blue hanging from a hook to her left. She looked overweight and the artificial light in the room made her pallor look even more off.

Blonde hair shifted slightly as her heard shifted and steel-grey eyes regarded me, weighing in the same manner that Danica had done earlier.

"Taylor Hebert, I presume?" she asked after a moment, apparently satisfied with whatever she had found while assessing me.

"Yes. And you would be Director…?," I said tiredly. One eyebrow shifted slightly upward and she nodded slightly.

"Piggot. Emily Piggot, Director of Brockton Bay's Parahuman Response Team," She gestured towards a chair, so far friendly enough albeit I hadn't tried to get a read off of her. "Have a seat Miss Hebert, please."

"Thank you," I said, trying to settle instead of slump into the indicated chair. "I suppose a thank you is in order for seeing me so late about this." I kept my gaze focused on her. I wasn't picking up anything hostile, but it was hard to get a read on what she was thinking. Trying to reach through my wall and get a feel for what she was thinking while keeping it up was becoming a task, one harder than it was supposed to be. The tiredness I felt made keeping my blocks in place to screen others out while holding the walls up difficult. Doing that while attempt to get a read on her was quickly starting to feel like a self-defeating cycle.

Her eyebrows shifted again and I thought she was pleased for some reason as she settled her hands on the desk, fingers laced together. "The sentiment is appreciated, Miss Hebert. I hope you'll forgive me if we get straight to business?"

I nodded. "Certainly." Definitely the person I had noticed earlier. This close, there was no mistaking the sense that she had a lot on her mind, though I couldn't get anything more specific than that. It was like a static or fuzz was invading my senses the longer I went on. I tentatively contemplated just outright lowering my shields to get more of an in-depth feel for her thoughts, but the instant I brushed up against them I immediately recoiled as the voices surged in volume before dying down again and the attempt died altogether. It was enough that I almost missed what she said next, and had to discreetly pinch myself to bring back focus.

"I am given to understand that your father has signed the papers to admit you into the Wards program," she began and I shifted both at the unwelcome reminder and at the moment of discomfort from the influx of lingering emotions but remained silent. "Also, that he intends you to participate regardless of your own wishes."

Her hands did not move in the slightest as she regarded me while I grimaced in agreement. "That is certainly within his authority as you are a minor and he your legal guardian. So, in the strictest sense of things, once he placed his signature on those documents, the meeting we are having now became a pointless formality from a legal standpoint."

I nodded slightly, but I bridled the urge to stamp my feet or shout denials. I was both too tired to do so and genuinely curious where she was going with this. Legally, perhaps she was right, but I didn't see how they could really enforce that. But she was leading this to somewhere, I could feel that much, for certain.

She drew her hands apart and gestured for emphasis. "Also strictly speaking, that while the paperwork is in his possession and has not yet been filed and recognized by us, they are not legally binding in any way, shape, or form. You currently exist in a sort of legal limbo in regards to this situation. You are not a Ward, or an affiliated Parahuman and do not have any of the standard privileges afforded to such."

"However," she continued, crossing her fingers in front of her once more. "You do have a series of options open to you in how to resolve this. Of course, provided that your father does bring in and file the paperwork, you legally become a Ward. In which case, while you cannot be forced to participate in any given activity, it does become difficult to operate as a Parahuman in a number of ways."

I frowned even as I started on a different approach. I tried harder not to reach out, but to listen like before. To let her thoughts echo off my defenses. But all I got was an echo of what she was saying, laser-focused and clear. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, ma'am."

"Simply put, if your father submits that paperwork, your safety becomes in large part the responsibility of the Protectorate, PRT, and Wards," she elaborated. "Both morally, and more prominently, legally. We are obliged to look towards your well-being, and failure on either side of the line can carry heavy repercussions. There are organizations set up that if some conditions are not being met, can legally intervene to great effect."

"That being said," she went on. "I will be honest with you, Miss Hebert. While I won't deny our need for additional members to the Wards and eventually the Protectorate, as Agent Simmons informed me she had advised you on, I also won't deny that I do not want to add another Ward under this sort of situation."

"My father forcing me, you mean?" I asked, a bit of my temper flaring for a moment both at that point being brought up, and the sheer lack of anything from my senses. Just echoes and strictly controlled emotions. It was almost like...

She smiled thinly. "I'm of the understanding that your situation is not the most stable, from several angles. I have one new Ward that was just introduced today, to add another that is, if you'll ignore my bluntness, as emotionally volatile as you are currently, is inviting trouble."

"But you want to," I said before I could stop myself. "Is it because of being outnumbered?"

The Director said nothing for a moment before nodding, a hint of exasperation leaking through as she sat back in her chair. "It's hardly information that you cannot learn for yourself, but yes. The fact is, the Protectorate and Wards are outnumbered almost two of them to every one of us."

"There are independents and rogues, though," I pointed out, while I tried one last time to listen past the white-noise and hear what she was truly thinking. "Is it really that bad, even with them?"

Her thin smile returned with a grim edge. "Even accounting for them, it is. Unfortunately, many among the independent community are… unreliable at best. A hindrance at worst. For as much good as they do, with respect to them, the PRT and Protectorate have to clean up their messes. Rogues refuse to participate at all on either side, although the ones that are able to follow through on that are either strong enough to evade recruitment or weak enough to not warrant it."

It was... It was almost like she was controlling herself just so I couldn't feel anything. But that's impossible, right?

"Isn't any help better than no help?" I asked, frowning slightly at her description.

"All things being equal, yes," she elaborated. "Unfortunately, we live in a city with three different parahuman gangs. Two of these gangs have very dangerous individuals capable of vast destruction. We have an unspoken truce that keeps everything in control, but it's a powder keg, Miss Hebert. One that I have to manage. I will use any resource at hand if it will help prevent the spark that might make this city go up in flames."

I didn't say anything and she continued after a second. "So, yes, though it could potentially be disruptive due to the current situation you find yourself in, I would accept you into the Wards if you chose to join. We need every hand that can be spared and if I'm to manage the cauldron that is Brockton Bay, I will make use of any resource that is available to me."

Something about what she said felt off and I tried to parse what, mulling the words over in my mind. I was having no luck in getting beyond her focus on our conversation. She believed in her words and I could tell she was being honest, but getting any reading of her beyond the context of the job she did seemed impossible.

The realization was like a flash. Because this is her life. I can't read anything beyond that because this is all she's thinking about. She's focused solely on what's happening now. I worried at my lower lip as I considered her words. Granted this key, it made understanding her a bit easier, even though I couldn't go rifling through her thoughts with how focused she was.

"So, if my dad filed those papers and I refused to work as a Ward and continued as an Independent, what would you do?" I asked out of genuine curiosity. She had been straightforward so far and I thought the question a good one to see if she would continue to be or if she would try to deceive me.

Director Piggot's gaze was unyielding as she regarded me. "If you were taking action on your own and partaking in the activities that many Independents participate in, while legally classified as a member of the Wards program? I could and likely would bring the necessary resources to curb you, Miss Hebert. Several of which would undoubtedly worsen the situation. As I said, a nuisance at best and a hindrance at worst. Use your abilities in a regular set of activities, such as that young woman who does party tricks for children, certainly. Go out as a cape? No. I cannot take the risk that your actions would not disrupt the balance we have here while legally the Wards are on the firing line for any misstep you take."

"Don't misunderstand, Miss Hebert," she told me. "I don't care for the stalemate at all. The gangs have far too much power. When that breaks, something I plan to delay for as long as possible, I want it to do so on my terms and when it favors us the most. Not the other way around. Until then, as much as I dislike it, there is a waiting game. The alternative is open warfare in the streets and I will not have Brockton Bay become a warzone."

I nodded slowly, considering her reasoning. It made sense. While I couldn't clearly hear her deeper thoughts, she was at least telling the truth about what she was saying. But did she believe it? "And if I joined the Wards? What then?"

Her fingers laced together once more. "Let me answer your question with a question. Why did you decide to put that costume on and go out the other night? You halted some drug deals and a robbery. Why?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, confused. Still, the question did make me pause for a moment as I gave it some deeper thought. When I first got powers, I was content with just using them to marginally improve my own life. But then they had started evolving. Now though? That was a question I hadn't really asked myself. It had been a natural progression from having 'not directly useful powers' to what I had now. And to be honest, I didn't have a clear answer as to why that had happened, so when I started speaking again, I had to hold my voice firm as I passed off my uncertainty with a shrug. "It felt like the right thing, so I did it."

"Just that?" Director Piggot asked. "No other reasons? Fame? The rush of having power over others?"

"No," I shook my head, then thought of something that I hadn't given attention to for weeks. Out of sight, out of mind. Was it just to do the right thing or was part of it that I wanted to show I was better than her? I hadn't put much thought to Sophia since I was rid of her, but I had gotten more serious about my costume and going out after that. I shrugged, pushing aside the thought. "Just the right thing to do, that's all, Director."

Director Piggot eyed me, her expression unreadable before shuffling some of the papers on her desk. "Ultimately, Miss Hebert, I appreciate your desire to want to, as you put it, do the right thing. Which brings us around to why you're here."

I nodded in agreement, but didn't interrupt as she went on. "Your father has filled out the paperwork and intends to submit it to us, I am given to understand. You were or are opposed because of him deciding without talking to you. As your legal guardian, he can do that, unfortunately for you. However, as I mentioned, what happens from there is entirely dependent upon you."

She paused for a breath. "You can resist and revolt, making things difficult in any number of ways, I am sure. We can apply pressure through legal means to try and bring you in line. This would be one of the negative paths as everything would just serve to drive you further against us. You can go from here and as long as you don't engage in parahuman activity until you are of age, we would keep a watch on you, but nothing more."

"Or," the Director said. "You can commit to the Wards, work to do right, as you said. You'll have others with powers that are your age, but there are strict rules of conduct you will have to abide by, along with a chain-of-command and several protocols and such. While the PRT and Wards are not a purely military program, and strictly never have been or will be, you would be expected to follow orders from myself or a Protectorate member."

I rested my elbows on the tops of my thighs, letting my chin settle on my hands as I considered the options she had laid out. I could walk out, that was clear. Even continue as an independent, but if… when my dad submitted those papers, that gave them influence over me and would put us at odds. However, my eyes narrowed as suspicion spun into being at the back of my mind. "There's another option."

Piggot smiled loosely as she nodded, folding her hands in front of her. "Correct. As we have discussed, as soon as your father hands in the paperwork, you are legally bound as a Ward. However, that paperwork is for full membership as a Ward. Taking into account your unique disposition, we are willing to offer a third option that could benefit us both."

"In short, you accept a form of probationary status in the Wards. A trial run as it were. You would not be bound by the standard rules, and may operate independently provided you worked with the Wards when asked, and that you allowed for several provisions on both our part and your own." Her gaze did not leave mine as she spoke and I got the impression she wasn't done, so I didn't interrupt with questions.

"I even happen to have," she began, reaching into the pile of paper and pulling out a manila folder, "the paperwork for that right here. Provided you and your father sign this, the forms he has are rendered null and void until such a time you chose to file them."

"How soon do I have for that choice?" I asked, gingerly accepting the folder she had placed on my side of her desk.

"In this case, you have little time," she said calmly. "You know your father better than I. When do you think he will turn those papers he has in?"

I grimaced at the reminder and stood, shifting my legs to get feeling back in the spots where I had rested my elbows. "Fair enough. I appreciate your honesty in this. I don't know what I'll do, but thank you nonetheless."

"You're welcome, Miss Hebert," she said, standing as well, a flicker of something I couldn't decipher behind eyes. "You have my apologies for how all of this has played out. Have a pleasant night." I murmured my own well wishes and quietly left the room. Danica was sitting in the waiting area with my pack in the chair beside her.

She looked up from the tablet she was working on. "All finished?"

"For now, I think so," I said, unzipping my pack and fitting the folder into the inner sleeve where one of my binders was. I fished out the box with the hamburger from Fugly Bob's. "Um, I hate to ask, but is there somewhere I could toss this?"

"We've got one on the way back up," she said. "I assume you'll be leaving by the roof?"

I nodded and shouldered the pack after I had closed it. "That seems easiest, yeah."

"The second Wards patrol just went out a little bit ago, so it's clear," Danica told me, tapping something on the tablet before blacking out the screen. "Shall we?" I followed after her and in just a few minutes, was outside on the brightly lit roof.

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Simmons," I told her, enjoying the night breeze after the recycled air inside the building. "Maybe I'll see you again soon?"

"Perhaps. Take care." Danica called as I lifted off. I glanced back and saw her heading toward the door while keeping an eye out around the roof before my momentum carried me away from the bright pillar of the PRT headquarters.

--

 

[chibipoe]

2.7

For the second time that night, I approached my house. But unlike the last time, I knew what I was walking into. Or rather, the lack of what. My father had apparently tried to stay up, likely waiting for me. Just by looking ahead, I could see him before I walked through the door, fallen asleep on the couch with phone-in-hand. It didn't exactly take a genius to know he had been waiting on me to maybe phone. Or for someone else to phone about me.

Still, just because I knew didn't mean I wasn't careful to avoid waking him. I floated up the steps to the porch, completely avoiding the old wood that would creak under my weight. I seized the bell that he had placed above the door with a bit of telekinesis, holding it still and from making any noise as I slipped inside.

I didn't bother turning on the lights as I hesitantly floated into the house, halting in the front hall. Like I had seen, dad lay on the couch in the living room, snoring lightly with the phone still tightly grasped. I stared in his direction, feeling the anger that had filled me earlier beginning to resurface. After a moment it faded and I sighed, floating a blanket over to lay gently on him.

It took me a moment, as I had to fight against myself before I was able to murmur out a "Night, dad," before moving into the kitchen. The folder with the Wards documents was still resting on the table where it had been left after our fight and I flipped it open, peering blearily at the papers in the dark. After the signature faded into focus, I sighed and they went into my backpack with what I had gotten at the PRT HQ. I knew a place to hide them until the morning at least when I could be rested and talk to my dad without the weight of the day crushing down on me. Hopefully without sparking into another argument like we had earlier.

A few minutes later, once I had gotten upstairs to my room I tucked away my backpack and went about taking out my changing for bed and taking out my contacts. And the fact of the matter was, that they hurt coming out now more than they ever did going in, leaving me red-eyed and on the verge of crying before I felt my way over to my bed. The relief as I curled up on a familiar bed, and as the covers drifted back for me with the slightest of efforts was close to bliss. But I still couldn't sleep. Despite how tired I felt, my mind was caught up with what the Director had said as well as what she hadn't said.

Sighing, I shook my head and shifted until I was truly comfortable. A yawn escaped and I pulled the covers closer. I could worry about that tomorrow morning. I was just going to forget about this day now and sleep. Just sleep...

* * *​

The distant chirping of an obnoxious bird was enough to wake me from my slumber, and I began working my way free of the tangle that the bedding had become. After a moment fumbling around, I was able to get my contacts in and see that my previously closed door was now slightly ajar, which probably meant dad was likely awake and had checked on me at some point. A quick look at the alarm clock left me frowning as I realized what the time was. It was a school day, but I honestly couldn't care less at the moment. The last thing I wanted was to go back to Winslow. I had bigger things that I had to deal with, things a lot more important than a day of missed school.

First, though, I was going to look the papers I had over before I showered or went downstairs. After I got at least marginally dressed, I pulled my backpack out and retrieved both what the Director had given me and the papers that my dad had gotten and filled out and looked at those first. I wanted to know as much about what I was dealing as I could before I got into this with my dad.

Ultimately, by the time I went for a shower my head swam with half-understood legal jargon but in return I was confident that I had at least a good understanding on what the paperwork said. A lot of it still went over my head, but what didn't I hoped would give what I was going to say to my dad more weight. Cleaning up and getting properly dressed took longer than I expected as I paused several times to stare ahead at the conversation that was upcoming. I hesitated at the top of the stairs, unhappy with what I had seen so far. I steeled myself anyway and did my hair up in a quick braid as I went downstairs with the paperwork for what I hoped wasn't going to be a futile effort.

My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a robe and staring blankly at a half-finished cup of coffee. He looked up as I entered, relief clear on his face. The chair he was in shifted and I knew he was about to get up, say something and to try and hug me. I wasn't sure I was ready for that yet. I quickened my pace and neatly placed the table between us. He stopped mid-rise, disappointment flashing across his face before sinking back into his chair.

For a moment, things were silent. Whatever nerve he had built up before I came in I had cut-off with barely any effort, and I had to fight past lingering emotions of last night. Ultimately, I was able to evenly and cooly speak. "Dad," I said, moving over to the refrigerator and getting some orange juice out before I dropped the papers on the table in front of me. "I...I think we need to try and talk."

He nodded slowly. "You're right," he said and the way the skin around his eyes tightened was the only visible sign that he was still upset on some level. I could feel him marshalling that to help build up a head of steam to get going again. "Sit down, please?"

"Dad, I.." I began, but he shook his head, cutting me off.

"Sit down, Taylor. Please." he repeated firmly. I tightened my hands on the glass of orange juice and sat down opposite him, with the papers loosely scattered in front of me. "Now, we're going to talk about this, as you said. What you've been doing at night is the first thing."

The orange juice was slightly bitter as it went down, but I didn't mind even though I took a moment to look at the options in front of me when he began this way. I wanted to change his mind, not put him on the defensive. But I didn't want to talk about the times I had gone out at night.

"I'm sorry I stormed off." There. Start with an apology, maybe I could build on that and it would draw him away from that question.

"Taylor," he swallowed some of his coffee before meeting my eyes. "Where did you go?"

I took a drink from the glass again to give me more a bit of time, enjoying the taste more this time before answering. "I went to clear my head. But then I had another visit from the Protectorate." I concealed a wince as irritation leaked through my voice when I thought of the likely reason why they had shown up and the look that swept across my dad's face told me he had heard it loud and clear.

"Taylor, I…" he began, then his hands tightened on the mug of coffee and I could see his resolve solidify. "I did what I thought was right. I looked over a lot of things, saw what happens to kids going out like you're doing, how often they're in the hospital or worse."

I took a deep breath to keep from snapping at him. Focus. I went through the the responses I had in my head for that question, answering it with just the plain truth once more. "I went to the PRT HQ last night. The Director gave me a talk about what my options were if you turned these in. She was honest at least. Gave me everything upfront. Or at least what she wanted to give me upfront. I imagine there are a few things left out," I paused for a moment, as I thought about precisely what those options were before I continued. "But she didn't exactly hide them from me, I guess."

"What did you think?" he asked and I relaxed a fraction. He was at least asking me what I thought. That was good. "I...I want to know what you think. I want to know why. Why everything?" I let the glass settle on the table and gripped the edges with my hands to give myself something to focus on.

I let my head move from left to right slowly. "I think there's other options. I looked over them, understood them for the most part, after I woke up and I thought about what she said to me. One option she gave was a trial membership, to get a feel for things and see if it was something I wanted to make into a full membership. One thing she said stuck with me while I was looking at them this morning."

"What was that?" he asked, clearly uncertain where I was going with this, but I couldn't pick up any sense of backing away from his decision. I looked for options where I tried other approaches, tried reasoning with him, pleading with him. Why isn't there one where I talk him around?

"She gave me the forms for that and said when 'Provided you and your father sign them'," I answered, pausing my search for a moment to keep the conversation going. "Which means that I have to sign the other forms as well for them to mean anything."

"I've read them as well, Taylor," he told me. "And I spoke with representatives. You're fifteen and I can sign these on your behalf and you'd have to abide by that."

I chuckled, the sound slightly bitter, tightening my grip on the table at his words and fighting not to let my temper get the better of me. "And what I want doesn't matter? You ask me to tell you what I think, then say no to it just like that?"

His face screwed up in concentration, seemingly fighting something inside. "I told you, I want you to be safe," he said, a weary note in his voice. "To not have to worry that my daughter's not dead in an alleyway somewhere because she ran out on her own."

"I know that. But the Wards...they aren't going to do that. Not if-," I told him, my voice catching. What was I going to have to do to convince him?

Still, his frown deepened. "If what Taylor?"

I shook my head, cutting off a tangent before it happened by looking him dead-on as I spoke with absolute certainty. "I'll work with them if I need to, but I'm not going to be railroaded into anything. I don't need to be in the Wards and I don't want to be in the Wards."

"Taylor," he said, his voice high for an instant before settling back to a normal tone. "You haven't given me any reason why you are so against this aside from 'I don't want to'. You used to love heroes, wanted to be one! Why are you so set against me wanting you to be safe? To be one of those heroes?"

I closed my eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath as I ran through possible responses and what his reaction would be, feeling heat flood my eyes as everything I said, he refused to budge. I can't convince him. There had to be a way to turn him from this decision. I could display my powers, drive home the fact that I wasn't helpless and didn't need someone watching over me… No. That would only have him thinking I was just acting out in a tantrum.

I looked at the papers on the table, still trying to find an option where he changed his mind. An option played out and I felt ill as it did so. That would work, but the things I would have to say? I couldn't do that, not even if it was a sure path to convincing him of what I wanted. Disgusted with what I had seen, I dismissed the possibilities of my foresight and slumped back in my chair.

"I don't have to be a Ward to be a hero," I said softly, staring at where the moisture on the outside of my glass had soaked into some of the papers. "I went out because it was something I wanted to do, that I had chosen. This… this takes my choice and walks all over it. It isn't something I chose anymore. It's something you forced me to do."

I stood up slowly. "I've met other capes, heroes, who aren't part of the Protectorate. I'm not alone and I won't be pushed into something I didn't choose. I do not choose to be a Ward. You cannot force me and if you try..." I let the sentence trail off without finishing.

He stared at me, frustration clearly written across his face and I could feel his thoughts warring with one another. He sighed after a moment. "We're… we're going to step back from this, Taylor. Cool off. We'll talk about it again in a few days and I'll decide what I'm going to do then."

I relaxed a bit as he said this. "Alright."

Making a face at the dregs of his coffee, he stood and went to the sink. "I've got to get ready for work. Do you need a ride to school?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'll get there myself." He nodded and glanced toward the papers in front of me for a moment before heading toward the bathroom. I waited until I heard the shower start up before gathering them up. I went to my room and rearranged the contents of my pack, folding my costume and settling it neatly inside before adding the other stuff I kept in there. The papers went right back into the side compartment. Dad could just go and get more himself, I knew, but I was going to keep these with me.

I had a few days to figure out how to convince him not to file these and what I was going to do if I couldn't. It would have to do for now. I changed into some clothes to go out, grabbed my jacket and went back downstairs. It hadn't gone as I had hoped, but it wasn't the worst it could be yet.

Dad was adjusting his tie in the mirror when I came back downstairs and I glanced in his direction with a nod. "I'm going out." He nodded, looking at me through the mirror and nodded, looking as if he didn't know what to do or say. Then I was out the door. I had some things to do until the afternoon when I could try and fix another problem from yesterday.

* * *​

The central branch of the Brockton Bay Library was mostly empty on a Tuesday morning. I found a table in a distant corner and began sorting through law books, hoping to find more information on what my options were. Convincing dad wasn't going to be easy and the more I actually knew, the better my chances were going to be. I thought about giving myself a headache and pushing ahead to see, but it would be easier when it got closer to the end of the week. For now though, I had many, many books to read.

Two hours later and I was certain that what I felt amounted to a quarter of the modern legal statutes and rulings burned into the back of my eyes, although it was more reasonably only a bare fraction. Other than the obvious fact that I was likely to treat forced enlistment very poorly, it appeared that while they preferred if parent and child both signed, the parent could sign a child up against their will. I closed one of the legal texts with a grimace before sitting back to consider that. Piggot had said otherwise, but I could only assume that was to give me a sense of control of the situation. Or something. All it really did was reaffirm my desire to not be a member of the Wards.

I made a face and dug in my pack for the papers, laying them in a neat stack beside a book on parahuman legal codes and flipped it open. There were things in here that didn't quite make sense to me, so I was going to figure those out before I did anything else. I leafed through the book until I found sections dealing with underage parahumans and devoted my attention to comparing against the papers.

Twenty minutes later and I was getting frustrated once more. Finding what I needed amongst all the different statutes and codes was proving a challenge. So far, I had only been able to find the barest details in the books I had gotten off the shelves. I knew a parent could enter their kid without the kid's consent as well, and a few bits on what the PRT could do to enforce that, but the rest was proving elusive. There was very little where a child could fight back or back out. Besides a few odd cases that couldn't apply to me.

The most prominent was if a child could somehow convince someone that the parent was in some way unfit to act as the legal guardian. I wasn't sure how I felt about that...

"Maybe I should have just given my dad an ultimatum," I muttered half-heartedly. Nearly three hours spent here and so far I had very little to show for my efforts. The book I had been looking at dropped to the table with a thud and I leaned back, looking around to distract myself for a moment. It was a public library and the largest in Brockton Bay. I had been here long enough that people had started to trickle in while I had been occupied.

There was an older couple sitting close together, looking over old newspapers and talking quietly, if clearly animatedly, about something in the papers. One of the librarians was working books back onto the shelves, another was clearing off books left on a table not far from me. I looked to my right, where there were two rows of shelves in line with my table. A blonde girl around my age was looking over some of the books there. She looked my way after a moment, and smiled in my direction before continuing to look at the books in search of whatever she was trying to find. I turned back to the papers, blowing a loose strand of hair from my face as I prepared to tackle more of the maze of legal jargon.

"Ow!" I heard glass shatter behind me as something stabbed at my neck with a hiss of released air. I grabbed at the spot and my fingers closed around something that I wrenched free with a gasp of pain. It was a… dart of some kind. Several lights blinked on one side and the tip was stained red from where it had pierced. "What the…?"

My vision started to swim before I could finish the question, and my fingers suddenly lost half their sensation as they went numb and the dart slipped, dropping onto the book in front of me like it had been greased. My blood left spots behind on the open page as it soaked into the paper. Page two seventy four. I weakly fumbled, trying to get a grip on the edge of the table as I tried to stand, to force myself up. But my legs refused to so much as even twitch, and the motion instead knocked me to the floor. It was like all the strength had gone out of me, and left me suddenly weighed down by leaden chains. No one was paying me any attention, but from nearby I heard shouting. I had to fight to force myself to look toward the source of the noise.

I tried to push myself up, succeeded only as far that I was able to weakly prop myself against the table leg instead of laying on the floor. Several men were approaching in.. black? Military? I tried to focus on them, to push through my thoughts which had turned strangely woolen. It was the fact that they held weapons that managed to register with me, the implied threat giving me some semblance of something to order my fading mind around. I.. was being attacked? The instant that the one in the lead was close enough, I pushed. The man flew back, slamming into several of his companions and bowling them over. The others reacted immediately, raising their guns to take aim.

I pushed again, harder this time as the room spun around me and a distant thought told me I wasn't holding back or even exerting any control. I heard shelves crashing into one another and a pained scream from someone behind me as my telekinesis erupted out in all directions. Against my back, I felt the table disappear and barely kept myself upright.

My attackers went down, one flying backward and crashing into the wall with enough force to leave an imprint and a sickening crack distantly registered. But as I did that, the men were getting up.

'No….stay...down...'

I roughly tried to seize the weapons and crush them with pure force even as I felt the edges of my vision fray. I was rewarded with the sounds of tormented metal, but also a more meaty series of cracks and screams as I suddenly tipped over, unable to keep myself upright without something to lean against.

"Gah!" I shoved my hands against the table to brace myself, pushing back and almost tipping over instead before looking around wildly for the men who had…

There were no men in military gear scattered around the floor. Or overturned bookshelves. Only a librarian who was looking toward me with a glare and the freckled blonde who was staring my way with a mixture of confusion and wariness. My eyes flicked toward the table, where the dart had fallen and my blood had stained the page.

Nothing.

What the hell was that? I wondered, feeling my heart rate begin to steady. It had felt so real… like… like that time on the boardwalk, with the purse snatcher… I looked around quickly and worried at my lower lip for a moment. Was it some sort of precognition? Was that going to happen if I stayed here?

My eyes fell on the page I had just turned from, then I flipped back, checking the page number. No. Not precognition. Page two seventy four was what I had just looked at. I swallowed, looking around again for any sign of the soldiers I had seen before gathering the papers up and hastily stuffing them into my backpack That they would get crumpled was only given the briefest of thoughts before I zipped it closed.

I left the books on the table and headed for the front entrance, almost running in my haste to get out of there and away in case whatever I had just seen could come true. No one tried to stop me, though I could swear I felt eyes on my back. The sense of being watched did not stop even after I was outside.

What the hell had that been? The thought came to me again once I was out of the building. Outside, with people moving around, the panic that had seized me lessened somewhat. I took in a massive gulp of air, bracing myself against a pillar in an effort to calm down. It had been like the purse snatcher on the Boardwalk, only more… real. No, that had been real as well. What was it then? I rubbed at the side of my neck where the dart had struck, a phantom pain still tingling there.

The urge to take off flying was strong, but I resisted. I wasn't sure if I could get away fast enough that someone couldn't take pictures of my face with my costume still tucked away in my pack. Still, I needed to get away from here, that much of the urge I agreed with. I needed to go find someplace that I could think in peace and try to figure out what that had been. The first time, I hadn't given it much thought, but that was the second time. Were they connected?

I needed to talk to someone about this. The PRT? I wasn't keen on talking to them just now though, so perhaps not. Those men had been… military? Mercenaries? Why would they be attacking me? Were they even after me? The dart, which I assume had some sort of sedative or tranquilizer had definitely been aimed at me…

Someone was targeting me. Why? What did these visions mean? Warnings? Some sort of interaction with someone else's powers? Vicky had the theory I was some sort of trump, as she put it, was this another part of that? I shook my head, trying to sort through the questions even as more came to mind. But right now, I didn't have the time. I had to leave.

I straightened, stepping away from the pillar I had been leaning against and started down the steps toward the sidewalk. A bus came through here in just a minutes and I could take it across town to get some lunch, then head toward Winslow to see if I could catch Catherine and Minako after school let out.

* * *​

I was sure no one had followed or was watching me as I stood in an alley a few blocks from Winslow. Still, I spent a few minutes just waiting, scanning around myself to be sure. I still didn't understand what had happened earlier, or how it tied into the pickpocket a few days ago, but I was sure now that both had something to do with my power now. Whatever it was, I had to be careful. Once I was sure that there was no one around, I levitated myself up to the roof. I had a decent view of Winslow from here and the surrounding area, and I had arrived just in time to watch the buses slowly lining up in preparation for the school day ending.

I looked at the school just long enough to confirm that the day wasn't out yet, then let my eyes drift to the road, eyeing the cars passing back and forth. There were parents already waiting for their kids when I arrived, the rows of cars taking up every space along the street. Several of the buses were lined up in the parking lot as well. I adjusted the cheap cap and shrugged as I tried to get more comfortable in the jacket I had picked up before coming here, keeping my head down as I waited for my friends to come out. Their mom's car was a short distance down the street from me, and the alleyway I had flown up from had easy access to the street for when they did come out.

Maybe I was being too paranoid. But one moment, I had been reading books and the next I had been swarmed by faceless men in black military gear with guns. And then I wasn't. Maybe I was going crazy, but it felt just the same as the time with the purse-snatcher. Too real not to be real, but wasn't. Was that something a crazy person would say?

A few minutes passed and I saw students beginning to stream out from the gates. A quick glance ahead and I saw them coming out in the next two minutes. I floated back down to street level again, re-adjusted my cap and walked over to the car where Catherine's mom was waiting.

The window came down as I approached and she smiled. "Hello, Taylor. I hope everything's okay?"

"More or less," I answered, my attention shifting from her to the people passing by even as I flipped my foresight off and on in quick, rapid checks. "I'm sorry about just running out like I did. I'd had something of a bad day and reacted less than positively to some stuff. I was hoping, if it wasn't too much trouble, to come over so I can talk to Catherine and Minako?"

I paused for a moment, catching sight of a man in a coat coming around the corner farther down the street. But ultimately, he just continued walking. Realising this, I turned back to her and hastily added; "I mean, if that's ok, that is?"

She looked like she was thinking about it when she smiled and nodded past me. "Perhaps you should ask my daughter, instead?"

"What?" I blinked and turned almost jumping as I saw Catherine and Minako there. I'd been so busy looking for trouble that I had missed their actual approach.

"I dunno, Mina," Catherine said seriously as I divided my attention between them and running another check. "She looks kind of suspicious, hanging around outside the school with a ballcap pulled down to cover her eyes."

"Perhaps we should alert the authorities?" Minako suggested, looking equally serious while I just stared at them, trying to interpret their reaction while watching an argument between two gang members that was going to become a full on fight in the next five minutes.

Neither said anything for a moment and I felt my shoulders slumped. Had I misread things and they didn't want to hear me out or talk at all? "I… well, sorry about-"

"Good idea," Catherine interrupted and leaned to the side. "Hey, mom. We found a strange person lurking around. What should we do?"

"Get in, all of you," her mom said with a tone of voice that suggested she was rolling her eyes. "I want to get moving before more of the other parents do."

"The parental unit has spoken," Catherine said, grinning. "In you go!" Relief flooded me and I looked around once more before slipping into the backseat, moving across for Minako to get in also while Catherine took the passenger seat in front.

Catherine was telling her mom about her day as she asked questions while driving. I kept quiet for the most part, half-heartedly chiming in when asked a question, letting my mind drift back to the library. Catherine's parents were military or such, as I recalled. Perhaps I could ask for advice that way? I frowned mentally, charting that action carefully. I could, but her father wasn't home, or at least as far as I could see, and her mother would want to know why. Catherine and Minako knew the answer to that question at least partially, but I wasn't keen on more people learning I was a cape.

After that, the rest of the trip to Catherine's house passed unnoticed for me, any interesting scenery once more ignored. I continued to run my precognition in short bursts, the act of looking ahead every few minutes for minutes at a time occupying most of my attention and it was only when we arrived at Catherine's house that I started to relax. For the moment, at least, nothing surprising was going to happen, I knew. Or at least, I hoped.

"Your father's out meeting with his friends," her mother said as she led the way inside. "He'll be back for dinner. The usual rules apply. Homework done before then."

"Got it, mom," Catherine said, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward the hall. "C'mon. We can talk back here." I nodded, hoping she hadn't noticed that I had almost jumped when her arm hooked around mine. I was safe here. Calm down.

"Before we talk about anything else," I said as the door to her room closed, taking a deep breath as I steadied myself. This is why I had come here, even after what had happened or not happened at the library. "I want to apologize. I...You at least earned me listening to you after what you've done for me, even though we haven't known each other that long and I didn't even give you that when you asked for it. I could say that what had happened so far that day was an excuse…"

I shyly rubbed one arm and tried not to look away. Finally I looked at them both in turn and nodded, more to myself than anything as I went on. "But I won't. You didn't have anything to do with that, and I made it like you did. Both of you...I'm sorry.""

Neither said anything and I shifted nervously, glancing back and forth between them. Minako smiled and settled into a chair even as Catherine walked toward her bed. "Accepted, but Taylor, truly, you did not need to apologize."

"I didn't need to," I answered. "I want to."

"Enough sappy stuff," Catherine said, flopping onto her bed and rolling around so she was facing me. "It's good enough that you're here and talking," She said with a smile that slowly turned grim. "But I'm getting that there is something else going on here now. You're wound tighter than my dad's guitar's strings. There's more than yesterday, isn't there?"

I pulled off the ballcap with a shuddering breath, trying to decide how to explain in a way that didn't make me sound crazy as I ran a hand through my hair to straighten it out. I finally gave up on that as everything I thought of sounded increasingly ridiculous.

"I think," I paused for a moment, struggling with the words. "I think someone is after me."

The effect was immediate. Catherine had sounded serious when she asked what was going on, but now their body language shifted. They were alert and I knew I had their full attention.

"Run me through why you think that," Catherine said, pointing to a chair. "As much detail as you can."

"Remember on the boardwalk, when I spaced out while we were at the ice cream shop?" I asked, deciding there was as good a place to start as any, since I could explain some of my powers at the same time.

Catherine and Minako exchanged a look before nodding. "You do that every so often. Like you're in your own little world. What of it?"

"Well... " I bit my lip, thinking of a good way to show them. "Got a quarter?"

"Um, sure?" Catherine reached for a jar, producing a shiny quarter that she rolled around on her fingers.

"Flip it," I said, triggering my precognition as the coin spun back down. "Heads."

"Yeah…?" she drew the word out with a questioning tone. "Lucky?"

"Flip it again," Catherine shrugged and did so. "Tails."

"I don't see…" she began as Minako took the quarter and launched it skyward once, then again, and a third time.

"Heads, tails, tails," I called out in turn, drawing a raised eyebrow from the usually impassive girl.

"You're shitting me," Catherine said. "Are you saying…?"

"Pre-Cog. Or precognition, I guess. Trust me when I say I know you're going to hold up five fingers, and now you're going to hold up two, seven, and twelve because Minako raised two more to your ten," I answered with a brief nod and a small smile.

Catherine looked equal parts shocked and put out, strangely enough. She grumbled sourly under her breath even as she brought her hands from behind her back. "Thinkers. I hate Thinkers. Thinkers cheat."

"You are losing focus again, Catherine," Minako chided with a smile before turning serious as she looked at me once more. "This has, I assume, something to do with your theory?"

I nodded. "When we were at the ice cream shop, I had a moment where I saw someone try and grab your purse. I used my precognition to stop them. The entire vision or whatever played out while I sat there spacing out. It felt so real, but…"

"No one tried to steal my purse when we were out," Catherine said, a frown appearing. "That's… weird. Maybe it's some weird post-cognition? Seeing something that might have been? What do you even call that?"

"Parachronal-cognition, is one such term I believe." Minako chimed in helpfully. Catherine just stared at her friend for a moment before she face-palmed.

"My God Mina, sometimes you are such a nerd," Catherine began.

I shook my head, interrupting both of them. "I thought it was something like that, and there was even something recently like it, but I haven't been able to see things that might have happened any other time, so I don't think so." I grabbed a chair and sat down, pausing to look ahead like I had been doing earlier. Still nothing in the next few minutes, so I continued.

"I blew off school today to look up some books at the library. I needed to figure out some things after what happened yesterday. Then, something happened. I was reading and I heard glass break and I got hit with a dart. Some kind of tranquilizer." I rubbed at the side of my neck where the dart had struck, putting the rest of my thoughts in order,

"These men in military gear stormed in as I was trying not to pass out. I fought them off with my other power and was falling over when It was suddenly like with the purse snatcher. I was at my table and no signs of the men or that I had been shot. I remember it happening, but it never happened. It's like I stop, and then suddenly skip over the minutes where it happens." I drew a shuddering breath as I finished, remembering the panic that had seized me all too clearly. "I got out of there after that, but it... I don't know what's going on and it worries me."

I looked down at my hands. "So, that's it. I don't know what it is, but both times, it's been too real. I just figured it was my power and a might-have-been sort of thing, but today was just…They were there for me. I wasn't in the way of something, this was about me."

"You're sure about this?" Catherine asked, her eyes narrowed in thought. "I mean… do you have any idea why? You have something they want?"

"Perhaps…" Minako said, trailing off with a thoughtful look. "Your powers are interfering with another's? Or his with yours? We've heard that different Thinkers can interfere with each other, throw one or both of them off their game. And whoever it is is aware of this? That you are the one interfering with their power?"

"My powers?" I asked, frowning as I considered it. I wasn't sure. It had only happened twice that I knew, but if that was the case, there was no telling what this was doing to the other person. "I don't know. I guess it's possible…"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't think that's it, Mina." She climbed off the bed and took my hands, her expression serious. "I don't want you to get upset, alright? My dad always said that military actions against a place or person always had a reason. Something that you wanted to get. A better vantage point, information, and so on. Think about what you just told us you had the power to do, Taylor."

"What?" I blinked, the question not making sense at first. "I just told you I could see the… future…" From the look Catherine was giving me, I was pretty sure I had paled quite a bit. My hands shook and she gave them a squeeze.

"It's only a theory, Taylor," she told me, her voice firm. "It might not even be true. Either way, it doesn't mean anything."

"Yes. But I don't like the amount of sense it makes..." I said grimly, while the panic I had felt earlier rose back up as I considered the theory she had suggested. "The chance someone I don't know is after me, knows I can see the future? If there had been more men backing those others I fought off… there's no telling where I could be right now."

"Taylor," Minako said, drawing my attention with her calm voice. "Focus on the here and now. Whatever might have happened doesn't matter. You are here and safe. It didn't happen except in your mind. Focus on that."

I drew in several calming breaths, slowly letting go of the panic that had been rising up. She was right. Whatever I was experiencing, I was safe right now. Maybe the things I was seeing were some sort of warning, to let me know what someone was after me? I thought about it, considering the possibility. If it was true, if someone was after me, then I needed to find out more. I couldn't act without solid information after all.

Catherine and Minako were giving me worried looks when I turned my attention outward once more. I forced a weak smile at them in reassurance. It was not, I thought, entirely successful as I wasn't reassured myself and both clearly saw that.

"Sorry about freaking out like that," I murmured, finally. "I guess I'm still a bit stressed out."

"Well, we don't even know for sure if this is true," Catherine said. "It's just a theory. We need to figure out who they are and who they're working for if we're going to do something about it."

"We?" I asked, blinking and looking between the two of them.

"Well, yeah," Catherine admitted. "You're our friend. Do you think we'd just let some guys tranq you and take you who knows where?"

"We would be poor friends to permit such a thing," Minako added serenely.

"Now, there's a few things we might be able to do about getting more information," Catherine said, her tone serious. "I don't know if you'll like some of them, though."

"Let's go with the ones I will like first," I said with a wry grin, the barest edges of humor in my voice.

"Well, first, we need everything you can recall about what you saw," Catherine told me, climbing up the ladder to her desk and coming back down with pen and paper. "Every detail. What they're wearing, the weapons they used. Any symbols or markings."

"Information is power," Minako interjected. "Even if you reject some of Catherine's ideas, we will have knowledge to draw conclusions from."

I thought about what the men had been wearing, the weapons they had held. Their faces had been covered, so I didn't have anything useful there, but I could remember everything else pretty clearly. I took the pen and paper from Catherine and started drawing, the pen flowing across the paper as I put what I saw to the sheet of paper.

"Here," I said, holding out the paper a short time later with a rough sketch of several of the men on it. "The stuff they were wearing was black, for the most part. I don't remember any markings anywhere."

"Standard military stuff, looks like," Catherine said. "I don't recognize the weapons though. My dad might, but he's not here. Mom might have an idea too… "

"But she'd want to know why you were asking," I finished her sentence with a sigh. "Which I guess is what you thought I wouldn't like."

"I could ask him later, not mention you at all," she offered. "Say it's from a cape we met the other night."

"Do you think he'd buy that?" I asked. I started to prod my powers to see if that was something that might work before I frowned at what she had just said. "Wait, your parents know?"

"My mom and dad do," Catherine said, smiling foxily. "Minako's parents don't. Part of the deal keeping them in the dark is that dad keeps an eye out for us. Makes us train." She made a face at the last words.

"Her father is quite demanding in making sure we met his standards," Minako explained. "To answer for Catherine, though, I do not think he would accept that at face value. He would wish to know why a cape we had just met was asking for our help."

That matched with what I saw as well and I frowned, thinking that while going over the fact that their parents knew and let them go out without forcing them into the Wards. I wanted to ask more about that, but I wasn't sure which issue I should worry more about. Dad wanted to force me into the Wards when I didn't want to go. In the face of what I suspected now. that seemed pretty minor honestly.

"If you can keep out that I'm the cape, plea-" I paused, thinking how silly what I was about to ask sounded. "No, just keep it to yourselves for right now. I'm not ready for someone else to know just yet. Even if it is your parents."

Both girls shared a look, but it was Minako that spoke up. "Taylor, if it's what you want…"

"It is," I said, nodding as I stood up. "There is someone else I can ask about this as well. They might know more, and I was thinking about asking them about something else already."

Minako nodded, although Catherine hitched an eyebrow as she looked at me inquisitively. "Someone else? This got more to do with yesterday? Who is it?"

I smiled. "A friend. I think I'll go look her up now, actually. Up for ice cream tomorrow?"

"Only if you tell us what was going on yesterday," Catherine replied, lightly punching my arm. "You had us worried when you stormed out."

"Sorry, sorry," I said, holding my hands up. "Ice cream will be on me and we'll talk about it then, okay?"

"It's a date!" Catherine said with a grin, eyeing me in a way I couldn't decipher.

"I… you said you guys weren't… not that there's anything wrong with that, but I'm not...interested like that." I stammered. Catherine kept looking at me for a moment longer before bursting out laughing.

"I'm teasing," she said with a smile. "Go talk to your friend and see what you can find out. If you need us, we'll help, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed with a nod, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I headed out of their house. I didn't know what was going on with these things I saw that weren't happening, but at least I had fixed one problem. Maybe I could fix the others too, somehow.

I found the alleyway I had used the other day, checking that it was safe to leave from and took off, trying to decide the easiest way to find the next person I wanted to talk to. I rolled my eyes as I gained altitude, realizing I had that on me. I fished out my phone and punched her name on the contacts.

"Hey, Vicky," I said as she picked up. "Got time to talk?"

--

 

[chibipoe]

2.8

I stood above the same slanted roof high in downtown Brockton Bay as last night. Like yesterday, the location was effectively inaccessible to anyone who wasn't a flier. Sure, it was possible there were entry hatches if someone needed to come out onto it, but without the ability to fly, or telekinesis to create a flat surface beneath you, there wasn't anyway for a person to replicate what I was doing right this moment, which was standing on air.

"Believe it or not, I'm walking on air~" I mumbled in an off-key imitation of a theme from a show that my dad had really enjoyed when he was younger. I released a short laugh at the thought of that show. It had been about someone given super powers by aliens and having no clue how to use them. That had been when comics and TV shows could still do super-heroes and villains and not seem odd in a world where they already existed.

"Having superpowers ended up being nothing like that," I muttered with a grimace, glancing at my phone. Vicky had said she would be free in a bit and that left me just waiting around for her to show up. Provided, it was giving me time to practice a new-found facet of my abilities as I tapped my foot against the surface I had created to stand on, bemused as it was stopped by apparently empty air.

"Powers," I said to myself, "are bullshit."

"Your powers are bullshit, you mean," A voice behind me said. Female, and half-heartedly petulant. I smiled at the thought of who had arrived behind me and was floating in the air. "Now you're making surfaces to stand on?"

"You can put your feet down if you want," I told her without turning around. "I extended it when you got here." Vicky made a face but cautiously lowered herself, her eyes widening as they came into contact with the platform I had shaped using my telekinesis. There was nothing visible, though if you squinted, you could see the faintest hints of red swirling beneath our feet.

"That is so cool," she said, tapping her foot experimentally. "Directing it into shapes?"

"Just flat surfaces so far," I said, turning around fully. "Something simple like this, just a single plane held in place is all I can do right now. To be honest, I only figured it out the other day."

"Definitely bullshit," Vicky whistled, then spun in place with a laugh. "So, what's up?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff," I explained, scuffing my foot against the platform and frowning when it didn't produce the appropriate sensation. It was too smooth, like textured glass. "Has to do with things we talked about yesterday."

Vicky crossed her arms behind her back and leaned forward slightly, peering at me. "Still stressed, I take it?"

"Kind of," I looked away, trying to put my thoughts to words.

"I'm going to guess that sorting things out with your dad didn't work so well," Vicky observed, nonchalantly sitting down and kicking her legs over the invisible edge while motioning for me to do likewise. "I've got time, if you want to talk about it."

"You're willing to listen?" I asked, surprised. "I've kind of dumped a lot on you since the other night."

"Why not?" Vicky asked. "We're friends and you're having problems. The least I can do is listen. And, like I said last night, I've got your back."

For a moment, I just stared at her uncertain of what to do. But it wasn't from lack of something to say, but rather the feeling of honesty from her. She did want to listen. I looked away and shook my head with a sigh, and started. "Well, after I left the Fugly's, I went home," I began, taking a deep breath. "My dad was waiting for me. At some point, while I was out with you, he had gone to the PRT and he had papers for joining the Wards."

"Wait, wait," Vicky said before I could go on. "Are you saying he was planning to sign you in without even asking?"

I nodded, unsurprised that she had figured it out. "That was the gist of what he told me. He was signing the papers, and I was bound for the Wards. I kinda get he wants me to be safe but…" I ran my fingers through my hair. After I composed myself again, I continued. "I stormed out on him after arguing about that and I was working my way up to going into round two on the graveyard when I got a visit from Armsmaster and Miss Militia."

"They showed up again?" Vicky interrupted once more. "Geez. No isn't enough for them?"

I shook my head. "Apparently. I'm not entirely sure, but I think my dad phoned them."

Vicky frowned, looking thoughtful. "Well, I guess they could make a case for a your-own-good sort of situation. I don't think it would hold up under any serious scrutiny though. I'd have to ask my mom to be certain, though."

I nodded. "Anyway. They made their pitch, again. Or rather, Miss Militia did. Armsmaster kept his mouth shut, for once." I paused for a moment, frowning.

"Well, not exactly. Miss Militia tried to get things sorted out. I figured getting them off my back was worth at least hearing her out," I continued. "So, I went to the PRT headquarters and met with Piggot."

Vicky made a face. "How did that work out? I've met her a few times. Can't say I like her."

I snorted. "She was honest, at least. After I got the chance to sleep and then look over everything I had and what she'd told me… well, my opinion changed. Sort of. Still honest, but only in the direction she wanted me to see things."

"Yeah, she's got an agenda," Vicky said with a nod. "Always has. I think she made a pass at New Wave once to try and get us to join, but I don't know. Before my time. But I do know that she isn't popular with the Wards, although the PRT seem to think she's good at her job. I guess since nothing has blown up in the PRT's faces while she's been charge she's doing something right."

I looked upward, kicking my legs absently. "Well, I definitely figured hers. She wants a new Ward. She all but said it point-blank. She wants more Wards. I tried talking to my dad this morning, but that went all of nowhere. I can't find a good argument that will convince him and so my reasons why not come down to 'I don't want to'. Which, as you might imagine, isn't good enough at all."

"It should be," Vicky said, slamming a fist into her palm. "But I hear you. Still trying to find something that will, I take it?"

"Well, that was my plan," I said in exasperation. "But while I was at the library… something weird happened."

Vicky turned her head to look at me, her expression serious. "Like what, exactly?"

I fished in my backpack for the picture I had sketched and held it out, holding it firm to prevent the wind from snatching it away. "Well, I was attacked, sort of, by these guys."

Vicky looked shocked at me, then focused on the picture, frowning as she tilted it left then right. "They look kind of familiar, I guess, but the library, seriously? I didn't hear anything about this. You ok? I mean, you're here. But…?"

"I'm fine, I think," I said, holding up a hand to halt her rambling words. "And that's why you didn't hear anything about it. It happened, but it didn't."

"And now you've lost me," Vicky said. "It happened, but it didn't?"

I made a frustrated sound. "I don't understand it entirely. I was sitting there, looking at legal texts until my eyes spun and then I got hit with some kind of tranquilizer dart. Then these men stormed in and had weapons. I attacked them and then passed out.. but then I was back at the table, like nothing had happened. I could feel where I got darted though and it was too real not to be. But there was nothing there. It had happened, but didn't."

"And you're sure it happened?" Vicky asked, looking at the picture again. "I'm not doubting you, but if it happened, but didn't, that makes it hard to find who is responsible if this is all that you have. Looks like standard tactical gear. The PRT wear similar stuff if they're moving into a hostile situation. The guns… tinkertech, I guess. They don't look like regular guns, at least. They kinda look like…" Her forehead knit and she made a frustrated noise similar to one I had made earlier.

"Ugh, I can't place them. I know them though, I swear," she finally said, handing the picture back. "When you want to remember something, you never do, right?"

"I guess," I shrugged. "Anyway. I don't know who they are yet. I have a theory about why they came after me though." I tapped my precognition, following what Vicky would be doing this evening once we parted ways. I felt heat flood my face for a moment and I pushed that line of imagery away. Far more than I needed to know about what she did with Dean when they were alone.

"And that is?" Vicky asked when I didn't go in. I opened an eye to see her eyeing me curiously. Probably wondering what I was blushing about.

"You're having mashed potatoes, sliced turkey with gravy, carrots, and some rolls for dinner tonight," I said, picking something more mundane to tell her about, while letting a faint grin surface as I amused myself with visions of her reactions if I had told her the other things I had seen.

"What does that have to-" Vicky began before her eyes widened. "Oh. You figure they're after you because of your precognition?"

"I don't know any other reason why they would be," I said, a bitter edge entering my voice. "It's not as if I'm anything special outside of my powers, after all."

"Hey!" Vicky said, rapping her knuckles against the side of my head. "No talk like that. I know you're down on things, but there's no tearing yourself down in my presence!"

"Okay, okay," I said, ducking away from another assault on my skull. "Anyway. I was trying to figure out what to do about this whole Wards thing. I can get my dad to stop, but what I would have to do and say… I just can't. If I don't figure something out, the only option I see right now is walking away. So, was trying to figure out something that would convince him while at the library and this happened."

"Oh, come on!" Vicky burst out. "You can see the future. So what? You don't like what you see, then change it!"

"I don't know what other people with precognition see, or how their powers work," I said quietly. "But I know how mine does. And I tried, Vicky. I looked and looked until my head began to hurt, considered other responses, changed things I would say. I can't find one where I convince him reasonably."

"Wait, wait," Vicky interrupted. "How does your foresight work, exactly? You're seeing things that will be? Or things that might be?"

"I'm not really sure anymore. It started like the first, but lately...," I said, staring at my hands. "Lately it seems like it can do more than just that. It's like my other powers, in that it seems like it's getting stronger. I can look farther, see more. I used to be able to just follow myself, but now I think I can follow others with it. Then there was the other day. Usually, I just see what is going to happen. Or maybe most likely to happen. But last night it changed. I was just thinking, and then everything splintered and I could see other possibilities. I have to be careful with that, or it could get out of hand if I'm not focused."

Vicky whistled. "I've heard the PRT has a few, but none of them are really that in-depth. That sounds like you're describing something really strong."

I laughed. "I can tell you what you are planning to do this evening. I could describe that in detail, if you'd like. I can also tell that your sister's going to help six different people in the next twenty minutes and that there's going to be a group of Merchants intimidating some shops for money three streets away in the next thirty minutes. Hitting up for drug money, I guess?"

Vicky's cheeks turned slightly pink and she glared. "Okay, okay, I get it. Crazy good at seeing the future. Tell anyone about that first thing and I'll hunt you down."

"Relax," I said. "That was just to make my point. Back to the topic on hand, though. I've tried… am still trying, to find a solution. I'm not going to give up, but it does seem as if some things can't be changed. Like my dad's mind."

"Well, we'll need to figure an answer to that and prove you wrong, oh all seeing one," Vicky said, leaning over to nudge my shoulder with her own. "For now, I have an idea for how to take your mind off things."

"Oh, this is going to be good," I remarked, checking the possibilities for what she was going to suggest. "What's your idea?"

"You get your costume on, we go out and see who we can teach a lesson," she said, grinning. I ducked my head for a moment, then returned the grin, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Alright, alright," I finally agreed. "Let me find some place I can change without someone else finding out I'm a cape." I climbed to my feet and stretched, glancing toward Vicky, who pushed off the platform and floated in the air.

"I know a place that should be clean and private," Vicky said. "Race you?" She twisted in midair and shot off in a flash.

"Cheater!" I shouted and dropped the platform, giving chase to the sound of her laughter echoing on the wind.

~~~~~~~~​

"What's up, boss?" Lisa asked, pitching the tone of her voice to carry the same note of irreverence that one of her favorite cartoon characters had when asking almost the same thing. There was a pause and she knew he was composing himself. He took himself very seriously and this was one of the few ways she had to needle him at the moment. He allowed it because he thought he had her under his thumb, but it still rankled.

"Your observations?" he asked simply.

Popping a cube of gum into her mouth, she began chewing. "Honestly? All over the place, boss. She's focused, but very aware of her surroundings. Caught her eyeing me while she was researching the Wards enrollment you told me about, but I just gave her a friendly smile and she went about her business."

"Any useful observations?" he corrected.

"Unpredictable," she finally said after blowing a bubble and letting it pop. "That's the only consistent thing I've noticed. Sometime she's withdrawn and sullen, other times outgoing and confident. Almost like two different people at times. Lots of things change, mood, the way she carries herself. I haven't heard her talk enough to see if speech patterns change."

"Like two different people?" he asked, falling silent for a moment. "Multiple personalities?"

Lisa made a noncommittal sound. "Possibly. This is something else. I can't pin down why, though. There's no reason that I've observed to the changes, no obvious trigger, but I'm not a shrink, so who knows? Sometimes she's passive, sometimes aggressive. It switches at random. She herself doesn't even seem to notice it, like it's natural for her. Or it's something she can't notice."

"Mastered?" he asked and the emphasis he placed on the word conveyed that the prospect alarmed him. "Someone has already gotten to her?"

"It's possible, I suppose," she drew out, popping another bubble. "What I find from the reports you gathered and a few people I asked some questions of, suggested that she did have something of a personality shift after that stunt in January. I don't think someone else has gotten to her, though. If someone else had their hooks in her, they'd have acted by now."

"I see," he said. "Anything else?"

"Nope," she said, careful not to speak too quickly or hesitate too much. "She did her research on legal stuff, parahuman law and then took off. I didn't follow for long because I didn't want to be noticed and risk her catching on."

"Very well," he said. "Your usual bonus will be in your account shortly. Well done on this matter. I trust you've got everything in place with those candidates I provided?"

"We've got a test run for tonight," Lisa told him. "Do you have a preferred task?"

"I've arranged for PRT resources to be occupied with a disturbance in Empire territory," he said. "There's a Merchant storehouse near the waterfront. It will be lightly guarded as the Merchants are having a… party, and will be otherwise occupied. I want you to clean it out. Whatever you find is yours to do as you wish with. I will compensate for any drugs you find and see them properly dealt with."

"Can do, boss," she said.

"Very well. I'll forward all the information to you," he told her. "Try not to disappoint." The line went dead and she glared at the phone, seeing the call ended message.

Fuck you. She thought sourly, closing the phone and sliding it into her pocket, relieved. At the least, he didn't appear to have caught on that she had withheld anything. No one was bearing down on her at the moment, so she had that as proof.

Her mind drifted back to the library and the way the girl had reacted, as if something had happened, but all she had seen was her reading and then apparently spacing out before complete flipping out in a full blown panic attack. Something had disturbed her, but nothing had visibly happened.

Sensory input heightened, terror. Increased heart rate, blood pressure. Breathing escalated. The girl had behaved as if she'd been in a fight and then wasn't. Skittish, expecting to be attacked, confused that there was none here.

Lisa's lips pursed. Good, but not what she was looking for. What was the reason? Someone didn't just flip out over nothing. What had been the triggering event. A mental attack? Her boss was a parahuman, that she was certain, but she hadn't pieced together what his ability was yet.

Flip it.

Heads, just as I promised. Care to try again?

The words from shortly after her forced recruitment came to mind, when she had tried to escape and he had demonstrated that she couldn't get away from him. Lisa frowned, wondering why they had come to mind while she was contemplating the girl. Alright. Run through what she did at the library and what you know about her.

Single parent left alive, a father, he discovered she had powers by being informed by the Protectorate, intends to force her to join Wards. Looking for a way out through legal means to avoid more extreme actions. Lisa nodded slowly, that was a good start. She turned her thoughts forward a bit, to when the girl had spaced out.

Precognitive perception; seeing something visible to only her. Lisa frowned, running the entire scene through her mind again, considering what could be the cause for her actions. What was she seeing? Affected by another's power, perceiving actions that could have occurred, but did not. She bit her lip, mulling that over. Was his power some sort of precognition as well? That would explain how he knew things that he shouldn't, how he had always had a counter for her early attempts to escape his grip.

No, that didn't feel right. If his own power was straight precognition, it wouldn't account for the girl's odd behavior there. She had behaved as if she had experienced something entirely different from what Lisa had observed. Interaction of her abilities with his in a manner that he was unaware of? She took a deep breath, feeling that she was close to figuring this out and understanding what had happened there. There was a headache building, but she was so close. She just had to push through it.

Precognition...no, the ability to perceive time along multiple timelines. Alternate futures. Alternate dimensions and universes. Can see other uses of precognition? Coil using binary choice...can perceive the future of both choices?

Perceives two actions simultaneously, able to choose one and discard other? Hebert aware of the discarded action. Lisa stopped on the sidewalk, ignoring someone's disgruntled exclamation as they veered around to avoid running into her. Eyes wide, she stepped closer to the edge, to avoid anyone else possibly colliding with her. That was it. She bit down on her lip enough to cause pain to dampen the rush of elation as she suppressed the flow of information.

She started walking again, stopping at a coffee stand for one of her favorite drinks, savoring the mix of sweet and bitter. It wasn't a solution yet, but now she had something to build on. Her lips twisted in a grin briefly before fading as she thought of the girl. Taylor Hebert. Likely to be his next target to 'recruit', if she was any judge of the situation. And the one who had, indirectly, allowed her to solve this problem by giving her something to compare Coil against.

Is he aware that she perceives his discarded actions? She paused with that thought. None of his questions had given her that sense, but he could have asked different ones of her and discarded that. He would retain the knowledge and she would be unaware. That was why he was always one step ahead when she tried to escape. He had the benefit of taking one given action with the benefit of all the knowledge of his other choice.

It let him send his men out and give them advice on situations, knowing that if something went wrong he always had an alternative option. Every dramatic loss could be a minor setback instead. Success could turn into total triumph. That was why he kept their contact to primarily phone calls and the intimidation of his men. He didn't want to risk much direct contact, to minimize the chances of her finding out what his power was.

Not just her, though. His appearances were few and far between, likely to keep anyone from finding out or gaining any clue. His men had success after success and he made no apparent displays of his power. An image carefully cultivated to present the appearance of infallibility. But also of minority. Even with his successes, the other gangs still looked down on him as a threat due to his lack of parahumans.

Lisa let herself smile again. Whatever his reasons, she knew now. She reaffirmed her promise to herself, to make him regret holding a gun to her head. And now, at last, she had an idea to start with, when the best moments to strike might be. First, though, there was Taylor Hebert. She knew a great deal about the girl, that she was a target of Coil's chief among them. But more so, she now knew that she was able to see Coil's split actions. That was something she would need.

She would need to go over the information he had provided on the girl, to get a better sense of the full depth of her powers. The girl had unknowingly provided her an answer to one dilemma, perhaps she was also be a solution to her other ones?

~~~~~~~~​

Battery leaned against the light post, remaining perfectly still while she waited for her partner to finish talking with the police. They had been called in on the aftermath of a Merchant altercation. No capes involved on the Merchant side of things, a fact that ordinarily meant they wouldn't have given this a second look. There had been, though, capes involved in the takedown, which meant they had to collect info, and if necessary, have a stern talking to with the ones responsible.

Assault's familiar laugh reached her ears as he said something to one of the police officers before they separated with a wave and he started over toward her.

"What's the situation?" she asked as he reached her.

"As reliable as the 'witnesses' are after something like this? It's like we heard, Merchants are throwing a party," he snorted. "Skiddie is celebrating his birthday or something, I guess? Cops couldn't make out what exactly they were celebrating since no one can speak english here without slurring through a few other languages, if any of them actually count as a language."

"Alright. Better question. Any word who busted this up?" she asked, an eyebrow curiously raised.

"Barbie, and a new girl. Merchant's said her name was something like Skipper which I kinda like," he said with a shrug. "Glory Girl's picked up an understudy, it looks like. One of the beat cops said that they know a new cape by the name of Sirin that was apparently seen with Glory awhile ago, but no one is sure if it's the same one."

"Sirin…" Battery frowned as she stared off into the sky in thought. "I think I heard about her the other night. Friday. Busted up some Merchants. I remember because it passed by while I was on console. Didn't have much information from them, though. I don't think I had heard the name before then."

"So, newbie cape and Barbie's her first contact. Can't say I'm not thinking what you're probably thinking. We don't need another another one who plays rough." Assault said.

"Was anyone hurt with this?" Battery asked, looking to the line of Merchant's being marched or dragged towards police vans..

"Nah, puppy," he answered cheekily. "Usual case of her being rough on the scenery is all. Place has a nice new sun-roof that probably gave it's property value a huge boost."

She rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

"I am," he shrugged. "She did her usual dynamic entry through the roof, then tossed them around. Funny thing is… some of the damage is weird. Did you hear anything on this Sirin as far as powers go? Some of the damage didn't match Barbie's usual m.o. at all."

She shook her head. "I didn't pull her file or anything. We usually get the run down on those in the Wednesday meeting."

"Hm," he stretched his arms. "C'mon, puppy. Biggs said that it wasn't more than ten minutes since they left. If there's more Merchant parties like this, maybe we can catch up to them. Our civic duty is to discourage Barbie's rampant property destruction after all."

She struck his arm. "Try not to call her that to her face, Ass."

"I'll be the picture of discretion and sincerity, swear on my soul, love." he said, taking two steps and launching away. She shook her head and followed after her husband. A whole block had gone by when she finally caught up to him, lightly swatting the back of his head as she fell in beside him.

"What was that for?" he asked, idly veering towards her and bumping their shoulders together.

"I need a reason?" she retorted with a grin. "Besides your blatant lies about how you'll talk to Glory Girl. You've probably already decided to call the new girl Skipper, regardless of what her name is."

"Oh, woe is me, you've found my nefarious plan out," he grinned, bouncing between two buildings and off of a light pole before skidding to a halt.

"We've got reports of another Merchant disturbance at the waterfront," Gallant's voice crackled over their earpieces. "Assault, Battery, your location puts you closest. It's in some of the warehouses there. Closed down place called Concordia Shipping."

"Any word on who's there?" he asked. "Because I'd hate to deal with the walking trash pile. I just washed this uniform."

"Mush may be there," Gallant replied. "The reports so far are short on details. I'll let you know as soon as I know something more."

"Well, crap," Assault said after the connection went silent, looking at Battery with a grin. "Looks like my plans to get my uniform dirty with you after we get home are being derailed."

Battery flushed underneath her costume and slapped his bicep. "Not the time, goof."

Assault coyly waggled his eyebrows with a devilish grin. "When is it ever? And when have we cared?"

"I do take my job seriously," she rolled her eyes, but grinned in spite of herself. "Now come on, we've got to make sure Collateral Girl and her new sidekick don't make too much of a mess."

"Barbie and Skipper," Assault said, laughing. She rolled her eyes again and exerted her powers, charging ahead of him. He laughed again and cheerfully followed, bouncing off several buildings in hot pursuit.

They had gone only four blocks when a frustrated female voice shouted somewhere nearby. A moment later there was a thunderous sound as a gigantic pile of what could only be described as garbage tore through a storefront window, crashing into the street haphazardly.

"Oh, look, we're too late," Assault deadpanned as Glory Girl appeared, flying through the space that she had presumably just sent Mush through and hovering above the ground.

"Gods, would you stay down!" she shouted at the disorganized pile of trash, that had begun to knit itself back together into something vaguely resembling a humanoid shape, started moving again "How many times do I have to… Oh, hi, Battery!"

"Glory Girl," Battery said neutrally, looking from the broken storefront to where Mush was gaining his feet again while trying not to wince at the lecture she was sure they were going to face about this. Especially as she laid eyes on the path of destruction that had gone through a building or two by the looks of it to get from the warehouses to here. "Do you require assistance?"

"Oh, no, we've got this," Glory Girl answered with a cheerful look, the frustration fading quickly from her face as she looked off to her left. "But feel free to take a turn now that I've softened him up if you want."

For a moment, Battery thought she was talking to her, but then the other figure came into view. They had missed her against the backdrop of shadows, given how much of her costume was black, with only bits of gold here and there. Most notably in an emblem emblazoned on her chest, visible between the open jacket she was wearing.

She could fly too, it appeared, hovering not far from Glory Girl. The mask covered most of her face, leaving her eyes and mouth visible, but she couldn't get much of a feeling for her from this distance.

"Glad you finally decided I could have a try," she said to Glory Girl, making it clear that the question had been directed at her. "I was beginning to think you were going to smack him around all the way across town."

Glory Girl shrugged. "I got a bit carried away."

"Oi, Barbie, Skipper," Assault called out and Battery closed her eyes, counting from ten as she heard Glory Girl make a vocal protest. "Your playmate is trying to get away."

"No, he isn't," the new girl said, showing no signs that she was offended by his labeling her Skipper. From one step to the next, the garbage that made up Mush's armor was torn away without any visible force, sailing across to a nearby dumpster that opened with a screech of metal. It left behind a stunned, filthy man who crashed to the ground in a graceless sprawl.

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kiddin' me!" he shouted as he started to push himself up and found he couldn't move. "What kind of fucking cheaty bullshit is this!?"

Glory Girl smiled warmly at the question even as she shrugged patronizingly. "What kind?" She raised her hands, her tone mocking. "The kind that leaves you whining in the dirt."

Assault laughed and moved forward to secure Mush. "I'm all for mocking someone, but we need to get him secured. Whatever nonsense the Merchants are up to won't last forever. Surprised Mush is off by himself, honestly."

"Why is he off alone, anyway?" Battery asked, looking toward Glory Girl.

The blonde shrugged. "No idea what the walking trash heap was doing. Maybe between parties or he went out for a beer run? Your guess is as good as mine."

"Doesn't matter, really," Assault said from where he was restraining the man, who was still pinned against the ground and squirming by something unseen. "We've missed how many chances to bring him in? Guy always slips away leaving us digging in a trash pile. Thanks for saving us the trouble, Skipper!"

"Her name is Sirin," Glory Girl said, a note of irritation in her voice. "Not Skipper. And I am most certainly not Barbie!"

"He's only joking," Sirin said with a weak smile. Her attention seemed mainly focused on Mush, staring intently as Assault finished subduing him and the restrictive force on the cape vanished. "Although I'm not entirely a fan of the new name."

"You didn't strike me as the Ken type," Assault said to her, then flashed a grin at Glory Girl. "Besides, I think she already has someone to fill that role, right?"

Glory Girl flushed, then glared at him. "My personal life is not your business, jerk!"

"Speaking of personal lives," Battery chimed in with a pointed look toward the two girls, while rolling her eyes. "It's starting to get late and it is a school night. Shouldn't you, Glory Girl, at least be heading home?"

"...Right," Sirin said abruptly, her demeanor seeming hesitant for a second before she nodded. "Nice to meet the two of you." She started to fly off and Glory Girl looked perplexed for a moment before turning a smile toward Battery.

"Gotta run," she said. "Nice to see you again, Battery! See you around too, jerk!" She stuck her tongue out at Assault before flying off as well.

"Well, that was weird," Assault said as he began punching a message to the PRT to arrange for pick up of their prisoner while keeping a foot planted square on Mush's back to keep the cape on the ground. "Not the talkative sort, is she?"

"She didn't seem too bad," Battery remarked, eyeing the rubble left behind from Glory Girl's fight with distaste. "A bit reserved though, you're right on that. That was some sort of telekinesis, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, I'm going to say a big no to talking about Skipper in front of the guy who just got busted by her," Assault said, grinning and leaning over to lightly rap his knuckles against the top of her head. "You know better than that, puppy."

"And you," she said, poking him in the chest, "should know better than to call me that while we're out!"

"Okay, okay," he said and then leaned down close to her ear. A moment later, she smacked his chest, looking flustered.

"Later, maybe," she finally said, glancing up at him with a look that he dearly wished she wasn't wearing her mask for.

"Fair enough," Assault replied easily. "Anyway, we shouldn't have to wait too long on pickup for this loser. Cards?"

"Ass," Battery snorted, punching him twice in the chest, just for good measure.

~~~~~~~~​

"Wait up!" Vicky called out, pushing more speed to catch while wondering how Taylor was managing to stay ahead of her. The girl was going full tilt and it was taking effort to keep her in sight. Thankfully, Taylor must have heard her, as she began to slow down.

"Geez, why the rush? I had to actually work to catch up." she asked as she drew even with her friend. "I mean, I get that you're ticked at Armsmaster, but A&B are pretty cool."

"It wasn't that," Taylor said after a moment. "She was right, at least. My dad's probably going to pitch a fit when I get home. He'll realize that I was out in costume and get on a tirade about this again."

Vicky winced, then frowned. "Okay, I can get that. You want me to try talking to him?"

Taylor looked like she was considering it for a moment, or looking to the future to see what might happen. Precognition was such bullshit, Vicky thought, before giving Taylor her attention as she spoke. "Thanks, but no. I'm not seeing him taking it well no matter who talks to him. Me, or you. He isn't home yet, so if I am fast, I should be able to beat him back and get changed and he'll never know."

Frowning, Vicky peered at her friend in worry. "Taylor, I know it isn't my place to say… but are you sure you want to lie to him?"

The smile on Taylor's face was anything but happy as she answered. "It's better than the alternatives, trust me. If I am lying, it's because saying the truth won't change anything. I'll see you around, okay?"

"You're sure there's nothing I can do?" she pressed after a moment, her thoughts racing as she tried to figure out a way to help Taylor. Lying to her dad… that she felt she had to… bothered Vicky.

Taylor roused her from her spiral of worry by floating close and hugging her. After a moment, she returned the gesture."Don't worry about it, Vicky. It probably isn't the best thing to do, but it'll prevent things from getting worse. And thank you."

"I'll see what I can figure out to help," she said as they separated. "Give me a call as soon as you can, alright?"

Taylor nodded. "Have a good night, Vicky. Be safe." She turned and shot off at the same speeds she had been moving before, leaving her floating there alone. After a moment, Vicky took a deep breath and twisted as well, heading towards her home, resolute.

No matter how she approached this, this wasn't a problem she could solve. At least not in the ways she was comfortable with. But she did know someone who had experience in these kind of battlegrounds. The issue was, would Taylor let her help? Sighing, she reached into her waist belt for her phone, flipping it open to make a call.

Several messages were waiting for her and she winced, seeing they were from Amy. Damnit, I forgot to come pick her up. She dialed Amy's number and waited.

"Finally," her sister's voice sounded over the connection, exasperation clear. "I've been waiting for you. Where have you been?"

"Sorry, Ames," Vicky told her. "Taylor needed me and we got caught up in things and lost track of time."

She waited a moment as there was no reply. "Amy?"

"Taylor," her sister's voice came over the line, with an inflection she couldn't identify. "You were with Taylor?"

"Yeah," Vicky answered. "She needed someone to talk to about something, and afterwards I took her out with me on a flight around town. Busted up some merchants and Mush. Do you...do you still need me to pick you up?"

There was silence, where it was like the other end of the line seemed to go dead. Vicky tentatively spoke. "Amy? You there?" The silence continued, and Vicky grew worried. She couldn't tell what Amy was thinking.

Finally, an answer came. "You'll have to make up for leaving me here waiting, got it?"

"Ice cream's on me," Vicky said, relieved. "I'll be there in just a sec." She adjusted her flight and ended the call, tucking the phone back into her pouch as she saw the hospital grounds come into view beneath her. Adjusting, she started on a downward arc, landing easily in her usual spot.

Amy was waiting a short distance away and she started walking toward her, arms crossed. Yeah, Vicky thought, she was angry.

"Let's go," she said curtly and Vicky sighed internally, before lifting her sister and taking off.

~~~~~~~~​

Taylor Hebert was acting odd again, Madison thought, staring toward where the girl sat alone in the library, apparently engrossed in a really large book. She couldn't tell what it was, but every time she had seen her today, the girl had seemed distracted. Presently, though, she was alone, her two guardians or whatever were otherwise occupied.

She could approach her now, if she chose. It had been something that she had considered more than once since Sophia and Emma had been removed from school. Each for different reasons, but they were both gone. That left a void for the position of the Popular Girls at Winslow. Emma had held that position quite firmly along with herself and Sophia, before leaving. Now it had become a question of who was going to fill the shoes Barnes had left behind. Surprisingly, Taylor Hebert had the best chances. Without Emma to hold her down, the girl had shown some surprising skill when it came to socializing. With her friends, they were effectively poised to take the spot with little effort. There were differences, certainly. She and her friends both lacked the intimidation factor that Sophia had provided, but the result was the same. The only thing wrong was that they hadn't.

This fact perplexed her. Madison knew the social structure of the school well enough, knew how the students were likely to respond to the void created by Emma and Sophia's absence. Had she exerted herself, she herself could have been the one to fill Emma's place, as the closest person to the old power structure. Her own reputation was damaged by the association though, and while she could, it wouldn't be with the ease that Emma and Sophia had held control. One of Emma's outer circle, Julia, for example, could have taken the reins as well.

But that had not happened. Taylor Hebert's star rose and it was like none recalled that not even two months ago, the girl had been ostracized and outcast. But she didn't take the position that was just waiting for her. It was like she didn't care about it at all. Madison glanced toward Taylor's table again, trying to understand the girl and what she was thinking.

No answer came to her and she sighed, considering her next move. She couldn't approach, even though she wanted to. It was too early to try and attach herself to that rising star, old enmity still likely fresh with Taylor.

Which was troublesome. Of course, it hadn't been personal for her, but for Hebert it was. She couldn't help but sigh again. Why couldn't people just not hold grudges and take things professionally? She closed the book she had been pretending to read as a pretense for being in the library and stood, leaving it where it lay. There was nothing else for her to do here now. The hallway was sparsely filled, a few juniors and seniors wandering to their next classes. The seniors didn't pay her much attention, but she caught a few dirty looks from the juniors.

Madison ignored them. Her reputation had suffered in the wake of Emma and Sophia's fall, but she could rebuild it. That was one lesson she had from her parents. There was always a way to reposition yourself when you suffered a setback. This qualified and she was nothing if not a good student for their lessons.

And to be truthful, she had never invested anything in the pairs little group that she hadn't been readily prepared to lose. She had seen the potential self-destruction coming. It was a testament to her skills that she had come out of the whole thing with only a loss of reputation and some minor punishment. Now she simply had to negotiate past the minor blemishes and eventually settle herself into the new order at school.

She had laid the groundwork, even if Taylor was unaware for the most part. Moving the weapons Sophia had planted was one step and one she had to consider how to reveal the fact so that she could get the most benefit from it. Stopping the things she had done was another, and demonstrating at least some degree of amicability toward the other girl. It had all been to advance her own position, hadn't it?

That was what she didn't know. She remembered what Armsmaster had said to her in the wake of Sophia's removal, what he had gotten her to admit. Was that true? Had she done that with any thought of how it would benefit her, like she had told him?

"You're wasting your breath telling me that," The words that Armsmaster had said to her after she apologized rang in her mind. She hadn't approached Taylor to say those two words, both because it was not time yet and because she'd been instructed to keep her distance recently. She wondered if her putting it off was because of waiting for the opportune moment or because she didn't want to face what Taylor was likely to say.

The answer to that was still absent as she reached her locker and sighed. Stuffing her books in, she locked it and turned, narrowly avoiding a tittering group of girls moving down the hall. Several of them gave her unfriendly looks and then whispered to one another, laughing at some private joke.

"Bottom feeders," she muttered, identifying them as a group who had never gotten to work their way into Emma's good graces. None of them had anything worthwhile to offer and even she herself was hard-pressed to think of what benefit there was to bother with them. Apparently, they had decided that they were contenders for Barnes' throne.

Madison shook her head and started toward the parking lot. Like they had any chance, really. If she didn't push forward and take the spot, then the most likely candidate was still sitting there in their way. And judging from what she had seen so far, Taylor Hebert wouldn't even blink an eye while stepping on them. If she even noticed that she had, for that matter.

There was still one period remaining, but her desire to be here had completely evaporated, Madison thought as she got into her car. They might complain, but wouldn't refuse if Browbeat wanted to go out on an early patrol. Perhaps Missy would show up early as well. Talking to Vista might help her sort her thoughts out on a lot of things. Her thoughts turned back to Taylor as she drove, confusion resurfacing as she tried to make sense of the entire affair.

By the time she parked in her place, Madison Clements' appearance had been replaced by the almost as familiar frame of Browbeat. She reached into the back seat for better fitting clothing. Thankful for the privacy of the parking garage, she quickly changed into things more suited for this body before heading inside. The routine would let her clear her head, at least. Maybe figure out what she was supposed to do about this whole business.

Browbeat stepped into the elevator to start another day of work, whistling softly.

--