Fragments (Worm Altpower)

[Telegraph Nine]

DISCLAIMER: This started off as a quick experiment and sort of took on a life of its own. I'm making this up as I go, and I make no promises about update schedules or actually making it to an ending before this dies. If you're still interested in reading, thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy.

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Sophia was standing in her path.

Months ago, at the beginning of the school year, Taylor might have tried to go around her, or to push past. She knew better now. The other girl was bigger than her, stronger, faster. Not taller anymore, but better muscled, more practiced at violence. Trying to avoid the confrontation would just mean she got forced down harder, turning a likelihood of pain into a certainty. She stood still, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

At least Emma wasn't here too. Those encounters hurt worse. Sophia tripped her, pushed her, left bruises, but at least there was a simplicity to that. There weren't memories lurking behind every word, something happy smashed beyond all repair. Sophia didn't make her wonder if this was all somehow her fault.

Taylor gritted her teeth as her eyes prickled, fighting back the surge of emotion. The two of them had stolen from her before, ruined her assignments, destroyed her things. But she'd never really believed… she hadn't thought that even Emma could—

"You want your flute back."

She looked up at Sophia, forgetting not to make eye contact in her surprise. The silence dragged on, and the other girl showed no sign of breaking it. "…Yes?" Taylor said eventually, stating the obvious.

"Come with me and I'll show you where it is."

Taylor's mouth opened and shut a few times. When she found her voice, it was tight with anger. Did they really think she was that gullible, that stupid? "Why should I believe you?"

Sophia gave a one-shouldered half shrug, as if to say she really couldn't care either way. "Don't. Ignore me, go home. Spend the rest of your life not knowing if there was a way to find your mommy's flute."

Taylor's mind worked, fitting this into an established pattern. "You're not saying you'll give it back. You're saying you'll show me what you did to it."

Sophia smirked. "Smart. Are you coming or not?"

Taylor's fists clenched. This is a trap. I know it's a trap. But… "Show me," she said softly, hating herself for it.

She'd half expected to be tripped as she left the building, sent tumbling down the front steps of Winslow high. But nothing happened. Sophia just walked, not looking back at her, fast enough Taylor had to work to keep up. She tugged her hoodie closer against the early-spring chill, the first pale leaves just starting to appear on trees.

Their path took them around the back of Winslow, then out into the city along narrow streets. It didn't take long to leave behind blocks Taylor knew. This wasn't the sort of neighborhood where you wandered, explored. It was the kind of place where you hurried directly to where you were going, not looking around and trying not to draw attention.

No one seemed to have told Sophia that, though. She moved exactly the same way she did in the halls of Winslow, head held high, challenging. As if she truly believed that there was nothing out there that could be scarier than she was. Taylor harbored a brief guilty fantasy of Sophia getting cornered by some gang members, before realizing that she'd be stuck in the same situation.

She almost thought it was about to come true when Sophia turned down a dark, narrow alley. Taylor stopped, hesitating at the edge of the sidewalk. Sophia didn't.

There was a chain link fence at the end of the alley. She didn't even pause, transitioning from walking to climbing in one smooth movement. Sophia landed on the other side, turning to stare back at Taylor. "You coming?"

Taylor swallowed, heart pounding under her thin hoodie. This is stupid. Follow the girl who had spent the entire school tripping and pushing her into a dark alley with no witnesses, on the far side of a fence that made it almost impossible to run? That was the kind of decision that got you on the evening news, behind a line of yellow police tape.

Her foot came down, across the line into the alley. The other followed it, one step at a time. Left, right, left, right. Taylor knew she was making a colossal mistake, but she couldn't manage to care. Bringing the flute to school had already been idiotic, but she needed it. Having it had been like having a tiny piece of Mom with her. Without that crutch, that tiny source of comfort… she couldn't do this. Couldn't keep enduring it. Couldn't keep going. Losing it would be like losing her all over again.

The chain link fence was ice-cold under her hands, a shock. The wires dug painfully into her fingers as she awkwardly lifted herself, scrambling to find a foothold with the toe of her shoe. There was a moment of uncertainty at the top, tipping, and when she landed something in her ankle screamed. Taylor hissed between her teeth as she clutched at her foot.

Sophia gave a snort of derision. "God, you're pathetic. Hurry up, I'm not waiting any longer."

Taylor pushed herself up and hobbled after her, ignoring the shooting pains as she put her weight on that leg. They were in a gravel courtyard, sandwiched behind the back of buildings. It looked industrial, scattered with pallets of unidentifiable materials and equipment.

Sophia was headed for a low structure built from cinder blocks, thick pipes and vents snaking from the top. Even from this far away, Taylor could feel the heat radiating off it.

"They bake pottery here," Sophia said conversationally, fiddling with a metal grill at the front. "Alway start the oven at the same time every day, so it's real easy to sneak things in before they turn it on. I've done it a few times to different shit, just to see what would happen. Glass melts, metal melts too, or warps depending what kind. Some things explode, that always pisses them off."

Taylor limped forwards, feeling like she was being pulled on invisible strings. The pain in her leg felt like it was coming from a million miles away. Her mouth was dry. No… No, please…

"They just started it, so it's still heating up. I don't know what kind of crap your flute's made of, but you should probably hurry." Sophia pulled the grating aside. Her mother's flute glowed among shelves of pots, cherry-red from heat.

Sophia said something else, but Taylor couldn't hear her. Her blood pounded in her ears, a roar of white noise drowning everything. She felt like the part of her that was actually 'Taylor' had shrunk to a tiny point just behind her eyes, floating in the sea of static that had become her body. Without thinking, she reached forward—

Her hand jerked back with a yelp, body betraying her. Taylor brought her hand to her mouth, sucking on her burnt fingertips. She felt like she was viewing the scene from far away. That couldn't possibly be her, could it? This girl staring into a furnace, hair beginning to singe, the heat drying her tears. Not a second time.

Taylor gritted her teeth, clenched them until they creaked, until she was afraid they would crack. She couldn't lose the fute, couldn't lose her again. She shut her eyes.

Pain exploded down her arm like a supernova as she reached in, every nerve ending screaming in agony. Charred meat and burnt hair filled her nostrils, she heard something sizzling and realized it was her. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she forced it back, held her breath, because if she opened her mouth she would start screaming and not stop.

She groped inside the inferno, every surface she touched another lance of white-hot agony. It wasn't working, something was wrong. It was harder and harder to feel anything but pain, numbness creeping back from her fingertips, nerves dying. In panic she scrabbled blindly, feeling for anything the right shape, not knowing if she'd even be able to tell if she touched it.

Taylor opened her eyes.

Her coat was on fire, the flames billowing up around her shoulder. Her hand was charred to a flaking black, fluid bubbling up from angry red cracks. And the flute…

It was gone, knocked from it's shelf by her random fumblings. It glowed yellow-hot where it lay on the floor of the furnace, out of reach.

No.

Something inside Taylor broke. She staggered back from the kiln, reeling. She could feel it, some vital piece shattering in a way that would never heal.

And through the cracks, something outside her reached in.

◆ ❖ ◆​

[REQUEST FOR INFORMATION]

[ASSENT]

[TRANSMITTING…]

◆ ❖ ◆​

Sophia had been here before.

She floated in perfect silence, watching gods dance. There were two of them, spiraling around and around each other, intertwined until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Each was a world unto itself, a thing of landscapes and horizons. They filled the sky, bigger than anything she could imagine, vast enough to swallow everything she had ever known without a ripple.

And they were falling apart. As she watched, cracks snaked inwards from the beings' edges, widening and forking. Great continent-sized chunks tore away soundlessly, scattering into the void like Autumn leaves. Making the beings lesser with each passing moment. The lost fragments streamed past her, falling into the dark.

Confusion sparked inside Sophia, buried swiftly by fury and contempt. How could they sit back and let this happen to themselves?! She knew they were alive, aware of what was happening to them. They had so much strength, they could stop this if they wanted. But they chose to let themselves dwindle to crippled shadows of their former selves. To do nothing.

Pathetic.

Sophia had no blood to boil, no fists to clench. It was like being in her shadow form, except without the sensation of air passing through her body. But rage burned inside her, all the stronger for lack of any way out. To have so much strength and throw it away was worse than being weak. More than that, it was offensive, like grinding food into the dirt in front of a starving man. She couldn't shout, couldn't call out, couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but watch and hate, impotent, as more strength than she had ever known was tossed carelessly aside.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. She wasn't watching idiot gods cavort in an endless void, she was lying on her back staring up into a cloud-flecked sky just starting to tinge towards evening. The familiar sting of bruises across her back meant she was back in her body, solid once again. She had… fallen, collapsed?

Her mind whirled nauseously, trying to piece together events. What was that? She had seen… but even as she tried to think about it the specifics slipped from her grasp, leaving only a sense of boiling frustration and helplessness. Sophia growled. The last thing she could remember was Hebert actually sticking her arm in the oven, and then nothing. If that bitch had somehow done this to her, she'd make her pay for it.

Then Sophia rolled over, and all her theories died an abrupt death. Where Hebert had stood was a perfect statue of black glass, frozen in the act of stumbling back from the furnace. It's face showed an unmoving expression of pain and despair.

Shit.

Sophia launched herself to feet, scanning the nearby rooftops as adrenaline shot icy tingles down her limbs. That was definitely a parahuman ability, and not one she recognised. Someone had the drop on her, and it was only luck that they had targeted Hebert first—

There was a sound of shattering glass. Sophia's head whipped around, and her stomach dropped. The Hebert-statue was breaking apart, pieces splitting off in a way that seemed horribly, inexplicably familiar. As if she'd seen it only moments before, though she couldn't remember where. The statue broke up into a swirling cloud of fist-sized pieces, jagged blades and splinters of black crystal. They seemed to be watching her.

Then one shot forwards.

Sophia didn't even realize she'd been cut until she felt blood begin to well and drip down her cheek. More shards darted for her and she turned their targets shadow on reflex, letting them pass through harmlessly. Her mind raced. She understood what had happened now.

Sophia snarled, shifting to shadow form entirely. It was overkill, but her identity was shot anyway and she had a point to make. She stepped forward and threw her arms wide as the entire cloud —as Taylor— spiraled towards her.

So you think you can fight back now, Hebert? Just because you have a shiny new power? The whirlwind of broken glass flew through her, touching nothing. That much mass passing through hurt, but she'd grown used to that pain long ago. And it was far, far less than it took to actually force her out of her shadow form. You think you're strong now? You can't even touch me. All you've done is graduated to the next level of me kicking your ass. This is between capes now, no more kiddie gloves.

She couldn't talk as a shadow, but her opponent seemed to get the message. The inky shards froze the air, unmoving. There was a noise like a finger around the rim of glass, if the glass was broken and jagged and the person was screaming. There were no words, but Sophia didn't need them to grasp the meaning. Rage. Helplessness. Fear. Defeat.

The pieces of crystal scattered, shooting off in all directions. Fleeing. Sophia watched as the fragments of what had once been Taylor Herbert disappeared into the evening sky. This would change a lot of things, but she wasn't complaining.

Taylor had just become much more interesting prey.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

She was flying. She was broken. She was free. She was shattered.

There were so many Taylors, all tangled together, crammed into the same head. Or there was only one Taylor, stretched impossibly thin between her countless pieces. She couldn't tell, didn't know if there was even a difference.

Every piece she'd been split into was another set of eyes, a new viewpoint. Just one would have been disorienting. She was thousands. She should have been screaming, clutching her head, trying to claw out her eyes, but she didn't have real eyes, not anymore. Or a head. Somehow, impossibly, it worked. It was like trying to drink a waterfall and feeling herself stretch into something that actually could.

Or at least, someone could. Because with thousands of fragments and only one Taylor to go around, she wasn't entirely sure who was thinking anymore.

Maybe that was a good thing. She didn't want to be Taylor right now. Taylor was hurt and scared and afraid and had just done something really, really stupid. She didn't understand what had happened, why she was in so many pieces, why Sophia had turned into some sort of smoke monster. She didn't want to think about it. Remembering hurt.

Taylor let go, stopped trying to think like one person. Her fragments flew through the air, hurtling in no direction except away. She lost herself in the endless viewpoints, spreading across the city, further and further. She arced over the tops of buildings, facets flashing in the sunlight. She skimmed over the waters of the bay, listening to the cries of seabirds. She dove through treetops, dislodging leaves. All at once.

Then it all went wrong. Because she had a thousand eyes but zero hands, no voice. A figure in a white and gold approached, so much bigger than her. Taylor tried to call herself together, but she was too slow, too far apart. Stretched too thin. A giant's hand wrapped around her, trapped her, too tight to escape.

Raw nuclear terror exploded inside her fragment, flooding the network.

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Victoria Dallon had seen a lot of weird things while patrolling, not all of them illegal. It was amazing what people got up to on rooftops and in fenced-in backyards just because they were hidden from ground level. But a floating rock probably ranked in the top five.

At least, she thought it was rock. It was a rough chunk of something glossy and black, a little bigger than her fist. Obsidian, maybe? And it apparently considered gravity to be a problem for other people.

It struggled in her grip, trying to get free, but even if she hadn't had been able to lift cars one-handed she doubted she'd have trouble keeping her grip. Rune could probably do something like this, but the villain was able to pull way harder with her telekinesis, and she was a long way from Empire territory anyway. Which raised the question of what exactly she was dealing with, here.

Parahuman activity, obviously, but it didn't fit anyone she knew of in the city. Keeping track of the local cape scene had been a hobby of hers since before she'd gotten her own powers, so that meant someone very obscure or very new, probably from out of town.

The way it struggled in her grip seemed more reminiscent of a frightened animal than something under telekinetic control. Some Tinker's way-too-literal take on a pet rock? An object brought to life by a Striker power? A construct? It certainly didn't seem very threatening, whatever it was.

Then something slammed into her left shoulder.

It didn't hurt, few things did through her field, but it certainly took her by surprise. She spun around to see glittering shards of the same black material spread in a cloud, apparently after another chunk like the one she'd found smashed itself to bits against her field. As she watched the fragments began to reassemble themselves, slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

"You brought your friends, I see," she quipped. So this was going to be a fight after all. There were more heading for her now, speeding in from all directions. How many did this guy make? She could dodge them. Probably. Maybe. There were a lot. But it was easier to let them just break themselves against her forcefield.

The crystal-rock-things cannoned into her, and for a few seconds she was surrounded by a sparking haze of fragments. "Do you think you can hurt me? You can't hurt me," Victoria growled. She flared her aura, more out of habit than any expectation that it would reach the parahuman attacking her.

To her surprise, though, it worked. The piece in her hand jerked frantically, trying to tear itself from her grip. The others made a high crystalline keening and shrunk back, withdrawing into an orbiting ring of splinters and fragments.

"Good," she said, dialing back the aura slightly but still letting it thrum through her. "Now maybe we can talk about why you thought it was okay to assault a known hero in broad daylight." The circling pieces gave no response, and Victoria pushed with her power again. "Answer me!"

The fragments shrunk back further, making the same high-pitched note. After a moment, a few of the smaller pieces split off from the others, swirling forward to spell out words in the air. Afraid. Trapped.

"'Afraid'?" Victoria demanded incredulously. "You think it's okay to attack someone just because you're scared?! Who even are you?"

The shards hesitated, pausing for a moment in their circling. Then seemingly random pieces darted towards each other, meeting and snapping together with a series of soft clicks.

Victoria's eyes widened as she saw the shape they were taking. It was a human hand, outstretched. Oh. A Breaker form? That would explain why the aura worked…

But the pieces didn't stop. More slotted into place, the hand becoming an arm, then a shoulder. The process accelerated as more pieces flowed together, re-assembling. Almost before she could think, she was staring at a complete crystal statue of a girl a few years younger than her, face twisted in horror and pain.

Almost complete. The piece in her hand was still missing, a hollow space just below the girl's collarbone.

Color flooded across the statue, turning it from a rigid shape into a person. Victoria looked down in horror and saw that the chunk she was holding was no longer black glass but warm, bloody flesh.

The girl fell from the sky, trailing crimson from the gaping hole in her chest.

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Taylor didn't want to wake up. Her whole body was full of that heavy, syrupy weight that made gratuitous violence against alarm clocks seem reasonable. But there were people standing over her, and they wouldn't stop talking.

"…didn't even need me here. She's a regenerator." The voice was clipped, annoyed, like it had been called away from something important.

"I didn't know that, Ames! She had a giant hole in her chest!" The second voice sent a tingle of apprehension down Taylor's spine, like she had met them once and they were bad news. She could almost remember why, but that would mean effort, and trying to do anything sounded incredibly unappealing right now.

"Also fourth-degree burns all across one arm, going by what you said. If not for her powers, she'd probably be in shock right now. What did you do?"

Wow, Taylor thought distantly, whoever they're talking about had a really bad day.

"She got the burns before I ran into her, I think. I couldn't see them in her Breaker state. I couldn't even tell she was a person." Voice two was a lot quieter than before. It sounded guilty. "I'm pretty sure I scared her into using her powers in a way that hurt her. I think… I think she's a fresh trigger, Amy."

"Hold on, she's waking up."

Way to just tell the world, Voice One, Taylor thought. What actually came out her mouth was a low groan. Whatever she was lying on, it wasn't her bed. For a moment she wondered if the person with all the injuries was her, but that didn't fit. She didn't feel any pain, just a bone-deep exhaustion.

She blinked, hissing as sunlight speared into her eyes. There was a face above her, a girl her age with way too many freckles. It looked familiar, like she'd seen it on TV before. She looked around for the other voice, and found it.

A few seconds later, the blind panic receded enough for Taylor to think again. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. What was that?! She'd reflexively scuttled backwards on seeing the owner of the second voice, and for the life of her she had no idea why. There wasn't anything especially frightening about the tall blonde currently having daggers glared at her by the freckled girl, except that her memory for some reason insisted that she came along with absolute crushing terror.

"Okay, I may have overdone the aura a bit, earlier…"

Familiarity twinged at the back of Taylor's mind. Where did recognise these two from? They were certainly dressed distinctively. The blonde had a tiara and a cape and… Oh.

Heroes. She had been rescued by heroes.

"Um." Taylor finally found her voice. "Thank you for saving me? What happened? I don't remember…" That wasn't true. She did remember, but the memories made no sense. How could she remember being in different places at once? Sophia had turned into something out of a nightmare, the fire, her arm…

She looked down at herself, and froze. Her hoodie and the shirt underneath were charred, completely missing from one arm. There was a hole over her chest that was stained with blood. But when she poked at both, the skin underneath was smooth, unblemished.

She looked up at the hero in the hood, the one with the freckles. Panacea, she realized. The New Wave healer. Taylor's stomach dropped. Exactly how badly had she been hurt?

"You fixed me?" she asked.

"I didn't need to," Panacea said. There was something in her face, her voice. Like she was talking to a little kid who didn't know yet their puppy wouldn't be coming back from the vet. "You did that by yourself."

"What? I can't… I mean, I'm not a cape." Taylor looked between them, waiting for someone to crack a smile, say there had been a mistake, break the silence. She forced a shaky grin. "I… I'd know if I was, right?"

The two of them shared a long look. "You are," the hero in the tiara said. "Unless you have another explanation for turning into a flying cloud of crystals. People tend to get powers after a crisis point, something traumatic that pushes them to their limits and then further. Does that sound familiar?"

—Her skin blistering, charring, the smell of her own fat burning, the horrible numbness as her skin flaked away, the despair as she realized that she'd just mutilated herself for nothing—

"…I'm going to take that as a yes. Sorry."

Taylor didn't realize until the girl spoke that she had shrunk in on herself, curling into a ball. Her cheeks were wet. "W-why… Why are you telling me this?" She hated the way her voice shook. She had thought she knew what was going on, that she had been rescued, and now everything was sliding off into madness again. She just wanted things to make sense.

The blonde girl stepped forward, knelt to get down to Taylor's level. She put her hand on her shoulder. Taylor flinched.

"After going through something like that, suddenly having powers they don't understand… Too many people lose themselves, end up becoming villains," she said. "It's part of our job to check in with you, make sure you have someone to talk to about what's going on."

Taylor looked up at her, blinking through watery eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "Superheros do therapy?" she said weakly.

The girl laughed, her blond hair catching the sun. Another emotion flowed through Taylor, as unexpected as the fear had been before. "Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. I'll give you my number, and we can keep in touch maybe?"

"I… I don't have a phone." Taylor looked at the ground, trying to figure out why she felt so guilty about disappointing the hero. I can't even remember her name, she thought, ashamed. It was something-girl, but she couldn't find the first word.

"Do you have a computer?"

Taylor nodded.

"Look me up on Parahumans Online, you can make an account for free if you don't have one. Send a message to my official verified account, I'll set you up." The girl reached out a hand, lifting Taylor to her feet.

Taylor flushed, suddenly wishing she paid more attention to cape news. And maybe had less soot on her. "I don't… actually remember your…"

"Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?" she said, flashing a smile that was almost literally dazzling. "It's Glory Girl."

 

[Telegraph Nine]

Hot water pounded against Taylor's shoulders. It was dark as it swirled around the shower drain, carrying blood and soot and ash. Her right arm tingled as the water hit it. The skin there was just slightly paler than the rest of her, fresh and new. If it weren't for that, she could almost have convinced herself the whole thing was a mistake, some insane dream.

Powers. She had powers now.

Glory Girl—no, Victoria, she'd insisted Taylor use that name. She'd insisted on a lot of things, like coming with her on the bus back to an empty home. Victoria had explained her side of the story on the way, what the power looked like from the outside. A flock of living glass, one person split into countless glittering fragments. The fractured, alien memories made a little more sense now.

Taylor wrapped her arms around herself, knuckles white. Trying to hold herself together in one piece. This wasn't meant to happen. Becoming a parahuman was like being struck by lightning, winning the lottery. Something that happened to other people. It wasn't supposed to happen to you, to people you knew.

But it had.

People get powers after a crisis point, something traumatic that pushes them to their limits and then further.

Names ran through Taylor's head, titles she'd heard on the news over and over again. Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Lady Photon, Manpower. Glory Girl. Had they all felt like this, at first? Like something inside of them had been torn out, only jagged edges left behind? She couldn't imagine it, feeling like this and going on to become someone like that. A hero.

We've all gone through this. Parahumans, I mean. That had been the last thing Glory Gi— Victoria had said before dropping her off at home. You will feel better, eventually. I promise. Taylor couldn't quite manage to believe her.

She stayed under the shower a long time, where she could at least pretend that the water dripping down her face came from the spray above. Eventually the hot water ran out, the eldery pipes coughing and choking. When she stepped out, she felt empty.

Taylor took a towel and dried herself mechanically. When she finished she stopped, then took the towel and draped it over her shoulders, holding it together in front like a cape. She managed a tiny, humorless laugh. This was really as close as she'd ever come to considering herself with powers, wasn't it? When she was a little girl she'd loved to play Alexandria, running up and down the stairs with—

—With Emma. God damn it. Taylor's fists clenched tightly, and somewhere in her chest the sharp edges managed to throw out a spark of anger as they scraped across each other. Of course, the first moment she managed to start feeling better this happened. She could barely recognise the girl standing in the mirror. A chunk of her hair had been scorched away on one side, she was going to have to cut it short to make it look normal. Her hair, the one thing about her that looked like Mom. Just like the flute. Just like Emma. Just like Mom. Every single tiny little thing that could still remind her of when she'd been happy was gone, and all she had to replace it was, was—!

Taylor shattered, reaching for her power without realizing it. Her pieces looked different this time, split into long obsidian blades instead of blocky chunks. Narrowly she managed to stifle the urge to whirl through the shower curtain, shredding it into a thousand tiny ribbons. She wanted to scream, but she had no mouth. She wanted to cry, but there were no more tears. She wanted to hurt something. The image of someone sliced by a thousand crystal blades rose in her mind, unasked for.

The girl in the image had red hair.

Taylor's pieces froze, then slammed back together hard enough to make the mirror rattle. The feeling of being flesh returned, bringing with it a pounding heart and a twisting, churning stomach. Bile rose in the back of Taylor's throat. She hadn't just thought, hadn't just wanted that, had she? She wasn't that kind of person. She hadn't been…

Too many people lose themselves, end up becoming villains. Glory Girl had been polite, kind, but she hadn't really hidden what the reason for her interest was. A quiet, tactful check to see if Taylor was going to be the sort of person she and her team needed to smash into the pavement for the good of everyone. Maybe she was. Taylor didn't feel sure about anything anymore.

Abruptly, she wanted to do something, anything normal so badly it hurt. She hurried downstairs, pausing only long enough to throw on an old, worn bathrobe. Her burnt clothes had been stuffed right down to the very bottom of her dirty laundry when she got home, out of sight. She headed to the kitchen, snagging a packet of instant hot chocolate powder from the cupboard. Pouring the stuff into a chipped mug, she flicked on the stove.

Blue tongues of flame snaked up from around the metal burner, licking at the air. The fresh skin on Taylor's arm crawled. Memories boiled up, crashing over her in a wave. Her flesh charring, agony filling her world until she couldn't think about anything else, skin burning away, her failure—

Taylor turned the burner off, a sheathe of icy sweat coating her skin. In the darkness of her chest, her heart pounded like it was trying to escape. No fire. Fire was bad. That was fine. They had a microwave, she could make her hot chocolate in that instead. Everything was fine. She was fine, she told herself, feeling her eyes start to prick with tears again.

If she repeated it enough, maybe she'd eventually believe it.

◆ ❖ ◆​

By the time her father got home, Taylor was sitting in front of the TV, watching some historical documentary without really seeing it. It was the only thing she had been able to find with no mention of capes. The mug of hot chocolate sat between her fingers, empty.

Her father nodded to her as he came in, then headed to the kitchen to get something to eat before going to bed. Just like every night. Just like normal. Only, she didn't fit into 'normal' anymore.

Taylor shivered, suppressing the urge to shatter herself again. Instead she rose, creeping over to the door to the kitchen. She leaned against the doorframe, peering around it into the room beyond. "Dad?"

He looked up from a half-constructed sandwich, apparently surprised at her breaking their habitual silence. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath. "Would… would it be okay if I stayed home from school for a few days?"

He frowned. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Taylor. Skipping school isn't—"

"Please." Something in her voice must have made him stop. Taylor looked down. Her knuckles were white around the mug. "I know I don't ask for much, ever since Mom…" She swallowed. "Just this once? Please?"

Her father's face softened, then hardened again in a different way. A determined set came to his jaw. "Of course, sweetie. I'll call the school and tell them you have the flu tomorrow morning," he said. "Do you want to talk about… whatever this is?"

Taylor chewed her lip, trying to keep her breathing even. "Maybe tomorrow?" she deflected. "I think I'm gonna turn in early."

"Of course. Sweet dreams."

Taylor turned and went. It wasn't until she was halfway up the stairs to her room that a voice called after her, making her pause.

"Hey, Taylor?" Dad called up the stairs.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Love you."

Taylor hesitated for a long moment, her hand on the banister. "You too, Dad."

◆ ❖ ◆​

The next couple days passed in a blur, hours and schedules and routines left abandoned all mixed together into an indistinguishable slurry. Taylor only left her room to eat and go to the bathroom, usually while her father was away at work. He stopped by her bedroom door a few times to knock and ask if she wanted to talk about anything, but saying she needed time to be alone was enough to drive him away. Taylor was grateful for that. This was hard enough with just herself to manage. Sometimes she read, trying to lose herself in familiar stories and characters. Mostly she lay in bed and thought. Tried to put together the pieces her world had shattered into.

Before, she had been… happy wasn't the word. Not since Emma. Not since Mom. But she'd known what to do, had routines, patterns that kept things stable. Go to school, endure the taunts, check to make sure Dad was still buying food, do homework. There had been a straight line drawn from her on through the rest of highschool, then on to college, a job. All she'd had to do was follow it. It wasn't much, but it had been something to cling on to.

Now it was gone.

What did you actually do, waking up one morning and discovering you had superhuman abilities? The answer you were supposed to give was 'become a hero,' but Taylor had no idea how or even where to start. The only other option she could think of, 'become a villain,' wasn't worth considering.

The sound of the front door shutting announced her father had returned home, sending a fresh spike of guilt through her. He didn't know what was going on, why she had locked herself in her room for two days. He'd given her all the space she'd asked for, all the patience. He deserved some sort of explanation, a reason. Something. But…

But he was doing so much better, now. Not the same as before Mom died, not really, but close enough that sometimes Taylor could almost pretend, almost forget. All she had to do was close her eyes to remember the other Dad. The one that barely seemed to see her, who shuffled through the house like a machine, abandoning tasks half finished. The one that had followed Mom somewhere she couldn't reach, seeing the real world only through a thick fog. Left her behind.

The fear that if she said the wrong thing, pushed too hard, leaned on him too much those days could come back was like an icy weight on Taylor's chest. She had barely left her bed since it happened. How much worse would it be for Dad, finding out? Would he even come back a second time?

No. She couldn't risk it. It was a horrible, selfish reason, but it was a reason. Let him find out that his daughter was a mature, competent parahuman, someone who had mastered her powers and knew what to do with them. Not a broken wreck. She would tell him, she promised herself. She just needed to get there first. To be that person.

And in order to do that, she needed information.

◆ ❖ ◆​

— This is the beginning of your Private Messages with Glory Girl (Verified Cape) —​ RestingInPieces: Hey RestingInPieces: This is the girl from last tuesday, on the roof. The one who tried to pay her own bus fare. RestingInPieces: You said to get touch. Glory Girl (Verified Cape): yeah, I remember Glory Girl (Verified Cape): One sec, let me switch to my regular account — Glory Girl (Verified Cape) added Point_Me_@_The_Sky to the chat — — Glory Girl (Verified Cape) left the chat —​ Point_Me_@_The_Sky: So, what's up? You doing okay RestingInPieces: ...define 'okay' Point_Me_@_The_Sky: Not currently on fire? Point_Me_@_The_Sky: wait, shit, forgot your trigger involved burns. Forget I said anything. RestingInPieces: mostly I just don't have any clue what to do now RestingInPieces: I mean, I have powers. They don't exactly cover this on career day. Point_Me_@_The_Sky: try to avoid joining a gang RestingInPieces: haha, very funny Point_Me_@_The_Sky: I'm serious. They target fresh triggers and independents, either to recruit them or make sure no one else gets them Point_Me_@_The_Sky: it's one of the reasons new independents tend not to last long. Point_Me_@_The_Sky: if you want to be safe, your best bet is to join a team. In BB that means the wards or New Wave. RestingInPieces: Are those the only options? Punch people in a costume, or… still putch people in a costume, but for crime reasons? Point_Me_@_The_Sky: Hey! as a professional costume-puncher, I'll have you know it's a very rewarding career! Point_Me_@_The_Sky: but being serious, kinda? there are rogues, people who just use their powers to make money or whatever. Doing that has the same safety issues as going independent, though Point_Me_@_The_Sky: You definitely want to use your powers for *something*. Parahumans who try to ignore them tend to go kinda stir crazy Point_Me_@_The_Sky: ...hello? You still there? RestingInPieces: Sorry, just still trying to adjust to the idea that I'M a parahuman. This wasn't something I ever saw coming. RestingInPieces: ...was it like that for you? Point_Me_@_The_Sky: My whole family has powers, so it wasn't really a surprise. honestly I was mostly like 'geez, about time!' Point_Me_@_The_Sky: That's not really the typical parahuman experience, though. How did your folks take it? RestingInPieces: my dad doesn't know RestingInPieces: If I joined the Wards, he'd have to find out, right? Point_Me_@_The_Sky: pretty sure, yeah Point_Me_@_The_Sky: Is that a problem? RestingInPieces: I WILL tell him. Eventually. I just… RestingInPieces: I want to know more first. About how to use my powers, what I'm going to do with them. Point_Me_@_The_Sky: well, I can help with the first thing Point_Me_@_The_Sky: The New Wave might not have fancy labs, but we're pretty good at power testing on a budget. Point_Me_@_The_Sky: you know the trainyards northwest of the docks? RestingInPieces: yes Point_Me_@_The_Sky: Meet me at the station 5 pm tomorrow Point_Me_@_The_Sky: bring a change of clothes

Taylor looked down at her keyboard, hesitating. She didn't know if trusting a hero was a bad idea, but it felt like one. Following someone into a strange place was how she'd ended up like this.

But she had a goal now. Something to hang on to. Another line leading her forwards, however faint. She couldn't let that go, fall back into what she'd been. Not now. Taking a deep breath, she sent her response.

RestingInPieces: I'll be there.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

Victoria saw Taylor approaching long before she actually got to the train station, perched as she was on top of the dirty glass canopy. It was kind of a dramatic sight, if you thought about it that way. A lone figure in a puffy blue vest, picking her way through the wide expanse of rusted metal and tall grass under a heavy grey sky. She looked okay, at least from this distance. A tiny knot in Victoria's stomach unclenched a little. The two days of silence had worried her, and finding out that the girl didn't feel like she could tell her family about her powers had set off warning bells. At least she seemed physically alright.

Then again, Taylor was a regenerator. For all Victoria knew, she could have been beaten black and blue an hour ago and she'd have no way to tell. And wasn't that a happy thought.

As she watched the distant figure make its way towards them, Victoria's thoughts turned back to the days after her own trigger. They were happy memories, mostly. As long as she stuck carefully to the 'after' part. Always the center of attention, fawned over by her family, partially in excitement and partly because she hadn't known how to dial her aura down, then. Finally a Hero, finally a full real member of the New Wave, her family. Finally able to put to rest the whispered doubts that she'd never be like them, never have the chance to do what she'd had her heart set on since she was old enough to pronounce the word 'superhero.'

She had been happy, but Victoria was honest enough with herself to admit that it was the happiness of pain being finally, finally over. Not everyone was that lucky. Most people weren't, if she believed the quiet, occasional comments from Dad or Aunt Sarah.

Taylor was getting closer, now. Victoria floated down from her seat on the canopy, alighting next to Amy on the ground. She gave a little wave.

"Hey."

She didn't know what else was going on in this girl's life. She didn't know what had happened to her to make her trigger. But by time she was done she'd make sure that Taylor knew having powers was awesome or die trying.

◆ ❖ ◆​

"Hey."

Cold air tickled unfamiliarly at the back of Taylor's neck as she approached the two heroes. Cutting her hair had been nearly the last thing she'd done before leaving, just before scribbling a vague note for Dad. Hacking it back to roughly jaw-length with kitchen scissors didn't look good —nothing would, not like Mom had— but at least it would pass for a normal haircut.

Victoria was in her full Glory Girl regalia, all spotless white dress and golden tiara and impossibly perfect hair. It was a striking image, if made slightly surreal by the clipboard tucked under one arm. Panacea looked like an afterthought next to her sister, dressed in a hoodie and jeans and seeming like she'd rather be somewhere else.

"Um, hey. Thanks for agreeing to help me." Taylor said, looking away. "I didn't think you'd both show up…" Had she been supposed to come in costume? She didn't have one, but she could have hid her face with a scarf or something. Except, no, they were the New Wave, not hiding their faces was their entire thing—

Glory Girl cut in, derailing her train of thought. "Amy's only here because someone," she shot a quick eye-roll, "doesn't trust me to do this safely."

Panacea sighed. "Vicky, you can fly through a brick wall and not muss your hair. You don't always have the best grasp of 'safe.'" She sounded like they'd had this argument many, many times before. "Also?" She turned to Taylor. "The last time we saw you use your powers, you came out of it with a gaping hole in your chest. Until we know more about how they work, no trying stuff without my say-so. Doctor's orders."

Taylor nodded, swallowing. All she could remember was realizing she was falling, very, very briefly. If Victoria hadn't caught her… she shivered.

"Sure, Mom." Victoria stuck her tongue out, walking over to Taylor. She put a hand on her shoulder, leading them away from the station, through the towering piles of junk. Up close, her skin looked even more impossibly airbrush-perfect than from a distance. Being this close felt like trespassing, stepping past the velvet ropes around some priceless work of art.

Taylor blinked, wondering for an instant why the hell she'd just imagined that. Then Victoria turned to her with a megawatt grin and the thought died screaming.

"Alright, New Girl, let's find out what you can really do."

◆ ❖ ◆​

As it turned out Victoria was actually taking this seriously, moving down her list of tests with a careful professionalism belied by her… everything.

To start, Taylor couldn't fly without turning to crystal first, although apparently the faces she made while straining to try were very amusing. Victoria had promised not to write that part down on her clipboard, at least.

Once she was glass (apparently it was called a Breaker form, and Victoria's best guess was that Taylor's was made of obsidian) she could break herself down into pieces of basically whatever shape and size she wanted. Blocky chunks with a small profile, long razor-sharp blades, even tiny fingernail-sized chips that were right at the lower limit of how small her pieces could get and still be part of her. Taylor wasn't sure how much use that last one was, though, aside from maybe for hiding. If a bigger chunk got broken, she could order the parts to fit back together, but if they were too small to start with the pieces would be lost.

They didn't have any weights or equipment, so the estimate for how much force she could move her pieces with was "about as hard as Taylor can throw things" for now. She could see and hear through each fragment as well as she could in her regular body. Better, really, since she wasn't wearing glasses as a swarm of flying bits. There was some sort of dim perception of pressure too, like touch through thick gloves, but apparently no sense of smell. None of them could think of a way to test taste at the trainyard that wasn't disgusting.

The biggest surprise so far was that she could change parts of her body individually, letting what was normally her left arm orbit her in a ring of glittering bits while she walked around. It even worked on her head, disturbingly. Somehow having no head didn't seem to cause problems with breathing. Panacea had poked her to confirm that her body's oxygen levels weren't dropping, then shaken her head and muttered something about Breakers and the laws of physics.

She might have been able to turn into glass automatically when hit, just breaking instead of getting hurt. Maybe. Possibly. It was hard to tell, since Victoria was very emphatically not allowed to repeat that 'test.'

Right now she was forming bits of herself into geometric shapes, making them pass through each other, then dissolving them into a pattern of interlocking rings rotating in opposite directions. Victoria looked impressed.

"Okay, you've definitely got some Thinker mixed in there," she said, looking up at Taylor with eyebrows raised. "Does doing that take a lot of concentration?"

Taylor shifted to form the word 'No.' She could make noises like this, but so far she hadn't figured out how to make them sound like actual words. At least this worked for now. Watching Victoria scribble down notes was an oddly nice feeling. The last time she'd felt like someone was honestly impressed by something she could do was… no. Taylor's pieces trembled slightly in the air. She wasn't going to let herself think about that, not now. She'd managed to pull herself together enough to leave her room, to show up here, she wouldn't let it fall apart by remembering.

"Okay, the next test is… oh." Victoria's face dropped.

Taylor drew herself back together. "What?" she asked as soon as she had working lips again.

"We're up to regeneration." She looked over to the third member of their group. "Ames? Do you know how you want to handle this?"

Panacea looked up from her phone, standing up from the hunk of metal she'd been sitting on. She met Taylor's eyes. "Do you want to do this? I can make it safe, but testing healing has to involve you being injured in some way. No one here is forcing you to go through with this."

Taylor's breath caught for a moment, the image of herself reaching into an inferno rising in her mind before she could push it away. She couldn't pretend that she wasn't scared, that her stomach didn't clench at the thought of doing this. But she had to. If she wanted to feel in control again, to understand what her life had turned into, she needed this. To understand these powers, to master them. She nodded, not trusting her voice to be steady.

Maybe then she could stop feeling afraid.

Panacea walked over and took Taylor's hand. Her grip was dry and firm. "Alright. I'm going to ask you to change your other arm and put it back together with a piece missing, okay? As long as I'm touching you, I can see everything that happens in your body. I'm just going to watch your power do it's thing, unless something goes wrong. If it does, I'll step in and make sure you're alright. Does that sound okay?" The voice was clipped, professional. Something that sounded like it should come from a forty-something doctor, not another girl her age.

Taylor nodded again.

"Whenever you're ready."

Taylor took a deep breath and did what she asked, her left arm turning to black crystal up to the elbow. A thought shattered it, leaving only a jagged stump. The pieces swirled in the air as she tried to pick one, to gather the courage. Then they flew back together, all but one. She shut her eyes.

Become flesh.

Taylor stifled a scream as searing pain shot up her arm, the feeling of something moving in the wound. There was a soft wet slap as the missing chunk of her arm fell to the ground. Taylor could feel something warm dripping, flowing across her arm. Blood. She refused to look, focusing tightly on Panacea's face. The expression there changed rapidly, going from intense focus to confusion and finally ending up at incredulity as the pain faded.

"Are you controlling this consciously?" she asked, brow furrowed

"No, why?" Taylor finally risked looking down. Blood stained her shirt, but only smooth skin was visible through the hole that had appeared in her sleeve. Just like before.

"Because if you were, I'd have to yell at you for doing a shitty job."

Taylor froze, mind filling with images of her chest and arm gone rotten and gangrenous. "Are the healed pieces going to…?"

"What? No, it's…" Panacea let go of her hand and stepped back, gesturing at the air as if she could pull the right phrasing from it. "Your healing is fast, but it's stupid. It's like it's got a picture of your healthy body and it's just taking the shortest path there."

There was a moment of silence. Taylor shared a brief glance with Victoria, confirming that, no, that didn't make any sense to her, either. Panacea sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Okay, there's certain… steps to dealing with an injury, even if it's with powers. I still need to stop bleeding, make sure it's not gonna be infected, all that stuff before I can start actually repairing things. I haven't seen a ton of regeneration powers in action, but from what I've read they mostly have that initial phase too." She took a breath, gesturing at Taylor. "Your power doesn't do that. At all. It's just repairing pieces in a random order without paying any attention to the effects."

Victoria broke the silence first, frowning. "Which means… what? I mean, it still gets her fixed eventually, right?"

"Eventually, sure, but the things she's passing through to get there aren't safe. If someone slit her throat she could die because her power was busy rebuilding her neck muscles instead of stopping her from bleeding out." Panacea began to pace, feet crunching in the dead grass. After a moment she turned to look at Taylor again, wincing as she saw her expression. "Okay, um, I guess I should probably give you some practical take-aways here. You should probably learn the locations of major blood vessels. Blood loss is your major risk, if you lose a piece near those be ready to apply pressure or a tourniquet as soon as you change back," she said, listing off points on her fingers. "Second, your power isn't deadening your nerves at all, so… injuries are still gonna hurt. Three, I honestly don't know if your power will bother to fight off an infection. Even if your injuries aren't there long, try to keep them clean. Got it?"

Taylor nodded, clenching her jaw as her stomach rolled at some of the images conjured up. She stared down at the dying grass. All the feelings she'd shoved down to come here were flooding back. Of course even her power would have something wrong with it. For a minute she'd actually managed to forget, but she was a wreck. How had she ever thought that something good could come from—

A pair of soft, warm arms encircled her from behind. "Hey. None of that."

Taylor went rigid as Victoria hugged her, thoughts blanking for a second. This was awkward, she hadn't even met Victoria more than a couple times, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. She felt like she was floating, warmth and acceptance seemed to radiate from the other girl like a bonfire. Was that a power? She really should have looked up what Glory Girl could do, and… and, no one had hugged her like this since Emma, and…

Panacea gave a loud cough.

Taylor tore herself away. She blinked rapidly, trying to slot her scattered thoughts back together. "I'm fine," she said, turning to face Victoria, voice not quite steady. "Really, I mean it. I'm fine."

"I'm glad," Victoria said, giving Taylor a smile that seemed entirely genuine. "Some of us don't get to heal at all, you know. Ready for the next test?"

"Um, I guess," Taylor said, stalling for time as she composed herself. Later, I can break down later. Panacea had an oddly blank expression on her face. Had she done something wrong, disappointed them by struggling like this? "What is it?"

"Range. Wanna find out how far your bits can get from each other?"

Taylor nodded, and after a moment she gave a tiny smile in return.

It was the work of a moment to shatter herself and send the pieces scattering through the sky. Images flooded in, a different view from every fragment, and as they spread it became harder to think like a single person. Taylor let it happen, single becoming parallel, I becoming we. If this really had been the next test, she'd been lucky. Stretching herself like this was an escape from her feelings, almost meditative. Her body unfurled across the city at the speed of flight, feeding her countless scenes. The top of a roof, an abandoned lot, an alley, an outdoor caffé, a man with a gun—

Wait, what?

Images flickered past as Taylor pulled one to the center of her consciousness. A woman was being held at gunpoint in an alley behind a restaurant, her eyes wide. The tiny chip of Taylor's left leg floating above them was too far away to make out words, but she was shaking. The man's face was red, twisted in anger.

A million Taylors convened, came to a consensus, collapsed into one. Get help. The fragments abruptly reversed their course, shrinking back towards the trainyard. Taylor strained invisibly, trying to push them through the air with as much force as she could manage. Faster, she needed to be faster! Pieces near each other drew together, combining into heavier chunks with more momentum. Not enough. The pieces split apart again, this time into razor darts, shapes that could cut through air aerodynamically. Almost there…!

Taylor collapsed back together with a crash, eyes wide. "Gun!" She gasped for breath. "I saw, there was a man with—!"

"Where?" Victoria asked, her face suddenly serious.

Countless fragments' memories came to Taylor's rescue. "47th and Meet's! Behind the pizza place."

There was a subtle smirk on Victoria— no, Glory Girl's lips as she rose into the air. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Turning her gaze upwards, she shot into the sky and was gone.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

Natural sounds filled the air, underlining the quiet. Wind rustled through the overgrown grass, and in the distance there was the cawing of crows. As far as awkward silences went, it was probably one of the more aesthetically pleasing ones Amy had experienced.

Not that that changed what it was.

Amy looked over at the girl sitting near her on a rusted block of metal, Brockton Bay's newest parahuman. She was tall and growth-spurt-thin, but she held herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible, to fold herself out of the way. Large eyes stared at the ground behind wire-framed glasses.

Of course, that was all superficial compared to the information she'd gotten from holding her hand earlier. Whatever had caused Taylor to trigger had all been swept away by her regeneration, but there were older signs. There were tiny denser patches in her bones starting not quite a year ago, the remnants of microscopic fractures. Those would require enough force to bruise at the very least, maybe draw blood. A couple years further back there had been a period when her growth was slowed by malnutrition, about a month when she hadn't gotten enough to eat. All still recorded in her body today, like rings in a tree.

Amy looked inside herself, trying to find some spark of sympathy. It didn't work. The girl in front of her had been traumatized enough to trigger, possibly abused or neglected before that, and all she could manage to think about it was at least I don't have to heal this one too. That, and annoyance at Victoria for leaving her alone with her. The memory of the two hugging replayed in her mind, the blush that had appeared on Taylor's face—

"What?" Taylor said.

Panacea blinked, snapping free from her thoughts to find Taylor meeting her eyes. "Huh?"

"You were glaring at me."

"No I wasn't," she said quickly.

Taylor didn't respond. She just looked away, went back to staring at the ground. Eventually, though she spoke in a voice so soft Amy almost missed it. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Damage control. "No. I'm just… jealous, I guess." Not for the hug. "Of… you getting new powers. Playing around, experimenting, discovering what you can do." Way to go, Amy. Alienate the fresh trigger the moment you're left alone with her for more than five minutes.

Taylor stared at her in confusion. "But… you already have powers. You're Panacea."

"Yeah, but I just heal. I can't exactly 'play around' with people's bodies." She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, pushing away the flood of images and ideas that always came with thoughts like that.

"You don't like healing?"

"What—No! No, I…" Amy took a deep breath, trying to remember Carol's PR lectures. "I'm glad that there's something I can do to help people." That was true. "I'm happy that my powers exist." Technically also true.

"But you don't enjoy it?" Taylor asked.

It was Amy's turn to look away now, out at the heavy clouds skimming across the horizon. "I… don't always like the person I have to be to use my powers."

"Why?" The words hung in the air for a few moments before Taylor started to backpedal. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "You really want to know?" Generally people didn't. They had an image in their heads of this perfect little healer they could prostrate themselves too, and they got pissed when she didn't play along.

"Yeah."

For a moment Amy was reminded of Dean, of that cloying, smothering certainty that everything would be better if everyone would just let him help them. That wasn't a fair comparison, though. Taylor clearly wasn't in a position to be helping anything. Okay, but don't blame me if you don't get the answer you wanted. She took a deep breath.

"Out there, right now," Amy said, gesturing around them at the city past the edge of the trainyard, "someone's overdosing. Someone's being stabbed. Someone's dying of something totally incurable, except for me." She didn't look at the other girl, staring up into the clouds instead. Pretending she was just confessing this to the birds and the grass and the rust. "And I don't care about them. Not as anything but more work to do." Her hands tightened into fists by themselves. "I can't care. If I let myself care about all of it I'll go insane, seeing the same things over and over again. And I hate it. I hate turning myself into that person, that monster that can see all of that and not feel anything." She sagged slightly. "But I have to, to help people."

The birds cawed. The grass rustled, the bugs offered their contribution. After a while Taylor spoke. "Why don't you stop?"

Amy finally turned to her with a bitter smile. "Sure, that sounds reasonable because you're talking to me. I'm the one in front of you. Imagine if you were talking to someone dying of internal bleeding after a car wreck, who just got told that Panacea could save them but she doesn't want to." She saw Taylor flinch and go pale, but she didn't stop. There was a momentum, an almost vicious feeling that these thoughts were upsetting someone besides her for once.

"The people I see in hospitals, all of them went through something horrible. Plenty had it worse than whatever happened to you." Or to me. "None of them got superpowers from it." She looked away from Taylor again, out over the deserted junkyard. "Getting powers is like finding a wallet full of money on the ground. Some people just decide that it's theirs now. That they're going to do whatever they want with it, because they can. That's where villains come from." She took a deep breath. "Or you can pick the wallet up and start figuring out who it actually belongs to."

There was silence again, but it was a different kind of silence this time. The quiet of someone sitting and thinking carefully. Eventually Taylor broke it.

"Who do my powers belong to?"

Amy shrugged. "How should I know? Whoever you can help with them. You found that guy pretty fast without even meaning to, maybe spotting crimes is your thing."

"You mean being a Hero," Taylor said.

"Yeah."

"Victoria made it sound like it was mostly, you know," Taylor mimed throwing a punch. "Beating up bad guys."

Amy snorted. "Vicky's very focused on her particular skill set. I don't patrol, and I'm a Hero." She thought for a moment. "How much can you see, when you spread out?"

"I didn't get the chance to really test it…" She chewed her lip for a moment. "A few neighborhoods?"

Amy's eyebrows rose. "That's a lot. I bet the Wards would take you even if all you did was find stuff and report it in."

"Really?" Taylor's eyes widened.

"Yeah." Technically Amy wasn't sure if the Wards were even allowed to refuse people, short of a criminal record, but that was beside the point. Score one for making sure the new cape didn't end up as another Nazi.

Taylor looked like she was trying to make a difficult decision. Amy let her stew, watching her eyes flicker back and forth between her and the junkyard around them. Finally the thin girl said something, just a little too quiet to make out.

Amy opened her mouth to tell Tayor to speak up, then stopped as felt a familiar brush against her mind, like silk over sensitive skin. A tiny weight lifted from her chest, one she didn't even notice was there until it was suddenly gone.

Victoria was back.

◆ ❖ ◆​

"Would the New Wave take me?" Taylor asked softly.

She saw Panacea's brow furrow, her start to say something, then suddenly look up. Taylor followed her gaze to where a speck of white and gold was rapidly descending through the afternoon sky.

Victoria landed between them, all energy and self-satisfied grin. She dusted off her hands theatrically. "There we go, one crime thwarted and dealt with. Did you two have a good time while I was gone?"

Taylor and Panacea shared a glance, breaking off as Amy rolled her eyes. "It was fine."

Victoria clapped her hands. "Great! We're nearly finished with the tests, there's only a few more—"

"Vicky, it's almost seven," Panacea said, checking her phone.

"—Oh. Um." Victoria seemed to deflate.

The blonde superhero seemed so crestfallen, Taylor felt guilt squirm in her gut. "It's okay, I should get going soon too, anyway. I don't want my dad to start worrying about me."

The two sisters exchanged an indecipherable look.

"I learned a lot today already. Really," Taylor said, forcing a smile. "The station has a bathroom, right? I should probably change into something that isn't…" She gestured to the bloodstained sleeve of her shirt.

"Um, yeah. That's probably a good idea." Victoria hovered an inch off the ground, holding one arm in her opposite hand. She looked uncharacteristically hesitant for a girl Taylor had already pegged as bulldozing through most of life at top speed. "Taylor, can we talk for a second? Before you go?"

Taylor blinked. "Um, sure?"

Victoria took her by the shoulder and led her out through the towers of junk. Eventually they reached a pile of rusted engine blocks with tiny blue wildflowers sprouting up between cylinders and pistons. It wasn't until the older girl had taken a seat on top of it she spoke again. "So, it turns out the girl in that alley worked as a cashier at that pizza place out front."

Taylor's heart sank, waiting for the 'but.' It was nothing serious, you wasted my time for nothing. She'd screwed up already. Superheroes probably had all this training, rules. She shouldn't have tried to help.

But Victoria continued. "Today the owner came in drunk and decided that since they weren't making ends meet she must be stealing from the register. They kept a gun behind the counter in case anyone dangerous came in, and… things escalated." She took a deep breath. "Taylor, what I'm trying to say is that you probably saved that girl's life."

"What?" Taylor stared blankly as her train of thought tried to screech onto a different track. "But… you did all the work. You saved her."

Victoria's face tightened. "I was half a neighborhood away playing around in a junkyard. Without you, I'd have had no idea any of it was even happening!" She shut her eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath through her nose. When she opened them, she looked a little calmer. "Because you were there, she's going home to her family instead of to a hospital or worse. You made that difference."

Taylor swallowed hard. Talking suddenly seemed unaccountably difficult. "Why… Why are you telling me this?"

Victoria floated down from her perch, landing in front of Taylor and reaching out to touch a spot just above her heart. "You were saying all those things earlier, about not knowing what to do, not knowing how to be a Hero." She gave a soft smile. "Between you and me, Taylor, I think you might already be one."

When she took her hand away, something warm stayed behind in Taylor's chest. Hours later, when she was back at home, once again locked in her room, she was still hearing those words.

◆ ❖ ◆​

Sophia tossed an apple in the air, the acid-green fruit making a smacking sound as it met the skin of her palm. Toss, catch, toss, catch. The rhythm had an almost comforting quality, like boots against hard pavement, something heavy hitting flesh.

She'd gotten a text from Emma half an hour ago, saying Hebert had finally come back to school. Emma who had gone pale when she'd found out what happened. Emma who had looked scared.

Sophia grimaced at the memory. That reaction hadn't belonged to the survivor she'd met fighting for her life in that alley more than a year ago. Emma had been making so much progress, but in that moment she'd acted like a victim. Someone who got hurt instead of getting up and hurting others first.

It was her fault. She hadn't stopped to think, to consider how the whole thing might look to someone without powers to call their own. She'd been excited and made a stupid mistake, broken the news in the worst possible way and set her friend back months.

Emma was strong. A fighter. That was why Sophia gave her the time of day. With time she'd get her head screwed back on straight, remember why she was a survivor and Hebert was just another victim. All Sophia had to do was buy her that time. Which meant dealing with Hebert, for now. She'd been getting tricky lately, taking roundabout routes through Winslow's halls, avoiding confrontation. But there were only so many paths she could take to class.

Sophia met the thin girl's eyes the moment she rounded the corner. Taylor froze for a long moment, then headed towards Sophia. The haircut was new. So was the eye contact. Maybe Emma wasn't the only one who needed to remember what kind of person she was.

Sophia pushed herself off the wall where she'd been leaning. "We need to talk."

Taylor stared back, looking her up and down. "Yeah. We do."

"Not here." Sophia jerked her head toward a girls' bathroom nearby. Hebert followed her. There was some merchant-wannabe inside smoking up the place, but Sophia tossed her out on her ass with only a few garbled profanities as retribution. She locked the bathroom door behind them, putting herself between Hebert and the only exit. "So."

"Who are you?" Hebert asked.

Sophia cocked an eyebrow. "Even you should be able to remember people's names, idiot. Or did sticking your arm in a furnace fry your brain too?"

Taylor's fist clenched. "You're a cape. That means you have a costume, a name. Who are you?" Her fingertips had turned to glass, crystalline blackness beginning to creep back up towards her arms. Sophia wondered if she knew she was doing it.

"Don't see why I should tell a newbie like you something like that."

Taylor's head snapped up, eyes full of rage and disbelief. "Do you think things are just going to go back to the way they've been? Now, after all this?"

Sophia took a bite of her apple. The snap of crisp flesh parting under her teeth was like the crack of breaking bone. Taylor flinched. She took her time chewing and swallowing, watching each second that passed without an answer raise the tall girl's blood pressure further. That was good. Angry enemies made stupid mistakes.

"Nope," Sophia said finally.

Taylor's arms were black and shiny up to the elbows, now. She took half a step towards Sophia. "Then what—!"

Now.

The hand holding the apple blurred forward, turning to shadow as it went. Before either of them could blink, it was buried up to the wrist in Hebert's chest.

Seeing the blood drain from Hebert's face was a memory Sophia was going to treasure for weeks.

"I think you're going to listen to what I have to say very, very carefully, miss shiny-new-powers," she said, voice just above a whisper. "Do you know what happens if I let go right now?"

Hebert shook her head minutely.

"I let go, and you suddenly have a solid object in the same place as your heart and lungs. You die. Got it?" Technically, that was a lie. The apple would stay shadow for a few seconds, and if Hebert was fast enough she could dive out of the way before it turned solid again. This was a terrible, awkward way to hurt someone, useless in a fight. It was, however, fantastic for intimidation. "I said, got it?"

Hebert gave a shaky nod.

"Good." Sophia straightened up, switching to a more normal voice even as she was careful to keep her hand steady. "Thing is, I don't actually want to kill you like this. See, there's this little thing called secret identities, dumbass. Someone with a solid object in their chest, people can trace that back to me." She leaned in closer, locking eyes with Taylor. "But I will if you make me. Go get yourself a costume. Don't worry, I'll find you. We'll have the whole city to try to kill each other." She grinned in anticipation, imagining just how much of a 'fight' that would be. "But in school, powers are off limits."

Taylor grit her teeth. "A-and if I don't?" It was almost impressive in a pathetic way, like a bug that had had all its legs torn off but one but was still trying to move.

Sophia rolled her eyes. "My best friend used to go to sleepovers with you. I know where you live. I know where your father works. I'm offering to only come after you with a mask on. If you turn that down, it's your problem."

Hebert took a long shuddering breath, and for a moment Sophia wondered if she was about to start crying. Instead, she just stared at the tiled floor long enough for Sophia to start noticing the buzzing of fluorescent lights above.

"…Fine," she said at last. It sounded like it cost her something. "No powers in school."

Sophia smirked. "Smart," she said, slowly removing the apple. She turned around to unlock the bathroom door.

From behind her came the sounds of Taylor dusting herself off. There was a sigh. "I can't believe this entire time I've been going to class with a supervillain."

Sophia froze. "Who said I was a villain?"

"What?" Naked disbelief hung from every syllable of Taylor's words. "After— How could you not—"

Sophia spun. Her fist slammed into Taylor's stomach, doubling her over. Her elbow hammered down onto the skinny girl's back, sending her tumbling to the floor.

"I do what I want, Hebert," Sophia hissed at the crumpled pile on the floor in front of her. "It just so happens that includes hurting people who deserve it. Be grateful."

She turned and unlocked the door in front of her with a sharp click. One foot at a time Sophia stepped over the threshold into the halls of Winslow, ignoring the groaning heap of trash behind her.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

Continued from the discussion on Wormverse ideas, recs, and fic discussion:
@GreatWyrmGold @Lokimotion @Happy Hampster @hakunoX @Ganurath

ummm @GreatWyrmGold we were debating how it would work, so... sorry if I got you in a trouble.

anyway, I was just thinking about Power interaction between the two of them, this is what we know from Taylor's owers in this ALt!Power:

( @Telegraph Nine please correct me if i am wrong in any detail)

1. she can transform into "obsidian" material shard from her body in the spacee of a few seconds.
2. the obsidian shards are Absurdly sharp, have the theory that those Shards arct like real life (theory) Graphene blade which are Nano sharp (that mea, sharp to almost atomic level)
3. TGaylor possess sensing abilities from her sshard, being able to "see hear and feel" the surrounding between shards.
4. Taor possess a new aspect of Regeneration, confirmed by Word OF God that this is QA using Taylor knowledge of Biology as medium to heal her body, and Panacea has declared that her Regeneration power has trouble because it acts like Anime/caricathure Healing instead of logical healing (first it heal the exterior then the interior), Pnaea confirmed that part of her power is avoiding her to get herself killed by this power.
5. the weakness of Taylor's breakr state (or principal weakness) is that her shards are really really fragile, i mean, Glory girl could crush them with easily way, even being compared to glass, while it could be that the Shrd are really strong but not Glory Girlstrong but they are comapred to Glass so...
6. Taylor ca transform aprtially and still retain her powers.
7. Taylor's Shard control range is still not completly confirmed, but it could e her Canon bug range.

let's be honest; where it sound that Shadow Stalker on paper would win?

Click to shrink...

Okay, let me go through these in order, see if I can clarify some things.

1. Basically correct. She can change much faster than that, though. The main/only reason it's not instant is because there are two steps: become statue, then break into pieces.
2. This is overselling it a bit. Her pieces are sharp, yes, but think scalpel or broken glass sharp, not 'sci-fi mono-molecular blade' levels.
3. Not sure if this is just a weird phrasing, but she sees from the perspective of each shard, not between them. If she had one piece on either side of a building, she wouldn't be able to see inside. From both exterior angles at once, yes, but not inside.
4. Looking back, I really should have been clearer on this: her healing is NOT tied to Taylor's knowledge of biology. The issue has nothing to do with her and everything to do with QA not being well suited to Brute powers. Picture it this way: Queen Administrator is a painter. Brilliant, a true artist, the sort that only comes along once in a generation. And then some asshole comes along and asked her to design the plumbing system. She manages it in the end, she's a smart girl, but it's a kludge. It's full of mistakes and places where there was a better way to solve problems, things someone with actual relevant experience would have done differently. That's Taylor's regeneration. It gets her back on her feet, but it's painful, inefficient, incapacitating, and potentially risky.
5. Her weakness is the fact that every piece lost means another injury when she turns human again. And 'lost' doesn't need to mean melted or crushed to power, it can be as simple as 'locked in a box' or 'currently being grabbed' or 'stuck in something.' Missing chunks of herself (probably) won't kill her, but they will leave her unable to act until she heals, and in a serous fight that could be nearly as bad. Skitter could throw away her bugs to accomplish goals, but Fragments!Taylor's equivalent cost her a literal pound of flesh if she loses them.
6. Yup! Of course, so can Sophia, at least in this fic's canon. Not gonna go retconning that.
7. Oh, it's much bigger than that. Her fragments are less versatile than canon's bugs, vastly less expendable, and capped at her body's volume (Which... it's Taylor. She's basically built out of chopsticks and coat hangers), but in return she gets a LOT of range. The limit is in the form of 'max distance to nearest shard,' so arrangement matters, but is she spreads out in a grid with the smallest pieces she can make she can cover most of Brockton Bay.

As long as Taylor tells New Wave about the cape that plans to kill her while they are in costume, they can pass it on to the PRT and get Shadow Stalker declared a villain if she attacks Taylor, as long as they get Taylor identified with the PRT as a hero first.

And I'm not sure what crushing her obsidian shards with super-strength would do, since all that would do is turn one shard into a bunch of smaller shards that can combine back normally later on. Hey, Taylor is just like the Entities in this regard, and QA is administrating all of these shards of Taylor and sending them out and putting them back together. Was this done as an intentional mimicry of the Entities, or just a happy coincidence?

Edit: If Taylor tells New Wave that a cape plans to kill her when she goes out in costume, then they will immediately tell the PRT about that, while encouraging Taylor to join the Wards. If Taylor joins the Wards first, Sophia is basically fucked.

Click to shrink...

Regarding the Entity connection: Yes!! I'm really psyched someone picked up on that, honestly. QA basically granted Taylor the ability to split herself up the way the Entities do, only without the higher-dimensional aspects.

About her shards getting crushed: There's a certain lower limit on how small her pieces can get and still 'count' as part of her. If they get broken down into bits smaller that that, they're treated as destroyed. During her power testing she describes her lower limit as "fingernail sized," but it varies with her emotional state, like her range in canon.

About Sophia's threat and the PRT: *Coughs awkwardly and hides notes* I'm kinda still figuring out where some most things are going, but we will probably not be seeing Sophia as one of the Wards here, yeah. Honestly, several characters could end up working for different factions due to butterflies, depending on how thing shake out.

 

[TheBiggerFish]

I'm glad to see this with its own thread! Can't wait to see more, too.

 

[Happy Hampster]

YAY this looks so cool. I'm really looking forward to more. now I have to read it again!

 

[Spellflame]

… one, Amy will probably descover the addiction effects of the aura, two stalker is lying, three stalker's days are numbered.

 

[hakunoX]

nice to see you are making a thread for this story; rally, you are good with this now about the Debate...

1. so she can change faster than we knew before... um, that means she can "change" but not really change right? that is instant brute rating, I mean, she transforms her punch into "glass" and then after the hit "un transform it" so it becomes mobile again.
2. I was wrong then... well, you win some you lose other ones, thanks for telling me @Telegraph Nine ... though, if she is razor-shard, why not she "breaks" in small sharp pieces and then "sharpens" herself? like one does with a knife.
3. my phrase is "Taylor can see hear smell feel and maybe Taste from her shards like is her normal body", sorry for the confusion.
4. so I was wrong and right at the same time, I guess that the more time Taylor learns about biology from certain mediums *Cough*Amy*Cough* she will be able to heal better; i am right?
5. why not stay "broke" in the parts where she has lost and then regenerate from the outside?
6. *sigh* well, nice to know Taylor has an power up... sad to know that Shadow Bi*** has it too.
7. so instead of thinker 11 here she is... Thinker 12.. yeah... and her "primary power" is her "blades"... sure... QA attacks again! hiding a huge power behind an overly showy one! hehe, auch; in canon the only reason BoneSaw manage to stop her was because of her "anti-bug spray" here... the 9 are ****ed.

okay, this is my adding to the debate @GreatWyrmGold . you turn.

 

[Empty Shelf]

I like the ideas and presentation so far, but I'm not a fan of the fact that Taylor can't hit the giant, flashing, obvious weak-point in Sophia's plan without taking all the wind out of that subplot.

 

[Spellflame]

I like the ideas and presentation so far, but I'm not a fan of the fact that Taylor can't hit the giant, flashing, obvious weak-point in Sophia's plan without taking all the wind out of that subplot.

Click to shrink...

Yes, She CAN'T, She Literally can't, that action is not one she can take, it was literally beaten out of her

 

[Telegraph Nine]

I like the ideas and presentation so far, but I'm not a fan of the fact that Taylor can't hit the giant, flashing, obvious weak-point in Sophia's plan without taking all the wind out of that subplot.

Click to shrink...

Um, I'm really sorry to ask the stupid question, but what giant flashing obvious weak point are you referring to? I mean, she's not at ward yet at this, point, so she can't go to the PRT and...

...um

...I'm just realizing I may not have actually indicated at any point in the story that she's still an unaffiliated vigilante at this point. Is that the one?

EDIT: it's sounding like the weak point is 'what if Taylor just attacks her?'

 

[Empty Shelf]

Yes, She CAN'T, She Literally can't, that action is not one she can take, it was literally beaten out of her

Click to shrink...

Maybe if this was Spring 2011, but this happened a year earlier. This is at most six months after the bullying started.

Um, I'm really sorry to ask the stupid question, but what giant flashing obvious weak point are you referring to? I mean, she's not at ward yet at this, point, so she can't go to the PRT and...

...um

...I'm just realizing I may not have actually indicated at any point in the story that she's still an unaffiliated vigilante at this point. Is that the one?

EDIT: it's sounding like the weak point is 'what if Taylor just attacks her?'

Click to shrink...

The weak point is that Taylor can go to the PRT. Simply tell them that she's being threatened by a parahuman, out of costume, and that she's in fear of her life. They pick Sophia up, she either goes to Juvie or gets Warded, problem solved.

 

[Lokimotion]

Really glad this got its own thread, and looking forward to finding out where you'll take it.

 

[Spellflame]

Maybe if this was Spring 2011, but this happened a year earlier. This is at most six months after the bullying started.

Click to shrink...

Flute, she just triggered, She literally shattered, She cannot fight back, Not now, not unless she is forced to act

 

[Happy Hampster]

so instead of thinker 11 here she is... Thinker 12.. yeah... and her "primary power" is her "blades"... sure... QA attacks again! hiding a huge power behind an overly showy one! hehe, auch; in canon the only reason BoneSaw manage to stop her was because of her "anti-bug spray" here... the 9 are ****ed.

Click to shrink...

does Taylor count as glass to Shatterbirds power? I can just imagine jack using a piece of her held in Shatterbirds power to torture pre-schoolers or her dad or something equally Heinous lets face it Jack is someone who is so evil that Canon!Taylor killed a child rather than believe she or anyone could beat him.

 

[Ganurath]

lets face it Jack is someone who is so evil that Canon!Taylor killed a child rather than believe she or anyone could beat him.

Click to shrink...

She killed Aster because she didn't have time to rescue her from the Nine and prevent Jack from unleashing the apocalypse.

Glad to see this story got a thread.

 

[Lokimotion]

does Taylor count as glass to Shatterbirds power?

Click to shrink...

I think her breaker state would be like Weld, and not really silicate or non-silicate.

 

[Datakim]

The weak point is that Taylor can go to the PRT. Simply tell them that she's being threatened by a parahuman, out of costume, and that she's in fear of her life. They pick Sophia up, she either goes to Juvie or gets Warded, problem solved.

Click to shrink...

Or Taylor could just tell Victoria (or Amy), who has already impressed her. End result would be basically the same of course (PRT), but might be easier psychologically. Also having someone vouch for her would probably look good.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

does Taylor count as glass to Shatterbirds power? I can just imagine jack using a piece of her held in Shatterbirds power to torture pre-schoolers or her dad or something equally Heinous lets face it Jack is someone who is so evil that Canon!Taylor killed a child rather than believe she or anyone could beat him.

Click to shrink...

I think her breaker state would be like Weld, and not really silicate or non-silicate.

Click to shrink...

Just material-wise I think she counts, so it would come down to the Manton effect, yeah. Is there actually canon evidence for whether Shatterbird is Manton-limited? I know she affects eyeglasses, but what about things like pace makers? (Of course, ultimately it would come down to 'what makes a better story')

If she isn't Manton-protected Shatterbird could pretty much just move her like a puppet in Breaker form. Very scary and S9-ish. Though I don't think she could stop Taylor from turning back to flesh in a million separate pieces and killing herself, so she'd at least have more of a way out than most of the Nine's victims.

1. I was wrong then... well, you win some you lose other ones, thanks for telling me @Telegraph Nine ... though, if she is razor-shard, why not she "breaks" in small sharp pieces and then "sharpens" herself? like one does with a knife.

Click to shrink...

I... think that only works with metal blades. I admit I'm not entirely sure, though. Taylor could theoretically learn to make knapped blades for sharper edges, definitely, though that's not a very 'heroic' trick.

 

[novorek]

I think she is Manton limited. Wildbow commented that she didn't effect plants that had silica in them. I more or less assume that is indicating she is Manton Limited. I haven't really seen many stories that actually look at that as a major component of fighting her though. Dire Worm is the main one that comes to mind, where the tinker embedded computer chips in living materials to protect them from her, and the tinker comments that pacemakers were the evidence she used to figure that out.

 

[Telegraph Nine]

I think she is Manton limited. Wildbow commented that she didn't effect plants that had silica in them. I more or less assume that is indicating she is Manton Limited. I haven't really seen many stories that actually look at that as a major component of fighting her though. Dire Worm is the main one that comes to mind, where the tinker embedded computer chips in living materials to protect them from her, and the tinker comments that pacemakers were the evidence she used to figure that out.

Click to shrink...

Huh, I'd heard that but always thought that was because of the whole 'powers run on fuzzy intuitive associations' thing, like Skittering being able to affect crabs but not dust mites. But the original source puts it down to the Manton effect. Good to know.

...I guess it depends on whether Taylor's Breaker form counts as 'living' or not, then, which would be up to the author. i.e. me. So, uh, let me get back to you guys?

 

[BUSH_PHD]

I think I really like this power, it's one of the few alt!powers where it doesn't feel like a stretch that the shard is queen administrator. I could see this being the way a power would manifest if Taylor had a breaker power instead of master, with the control and feed back of many small parts

 

[ThePrimordialOne]

See, if it was me, I would have gut Sophia like a fish right there at the end.