Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Taylor Hebert had a bad day, and came out of it changed. Some parahumans can control bugs. Some can build advanced technology. Some can do unspeakable things to space and time. Taylor can make magic rings, wondrous metals, mysterious weapons, and may not be a parahuman--or, indeed, human--at all.

(Cover by the lovely Phinnia. Come check out her fanart thread!)

Finally decided to crosspost this from Spacebattles.

Index of main-story chapters:

ARC 1: GLIMMER
Glimmer 1.1
Glimmer 1.2
Glimmer 1.3
Glimmer 1.4
Glimmer 1.5
Interlude 1a
Glimmer 1.6
Interlude 1b
Glimmer 1.7

ARC 2: TWINKLE
Twinkle 2.1
Twinkle 2.2
Interlude 2a
Twinkle 2.3
Twinkle 2.4
Twinkle 2.5
Twinkle 2.6
Interlude 2b
Twinkle 2.7

ARC 3: LUSTRE
Lustre 3.1
Lustre 3.2
Interlude 3a
Lustre 3.3
Lustre 3.4
Lustre 3.5
Lustre 3.6
Interlude 3b
Lustre 3.7

ARC 4: SHEEN
Sheen 4.1
Interlude 4a
Sheen 4.2
Sheen 4.3
Interlude 4b
Sheen 4.4
Sheen 4.5
Sheen 4.6
Sheen 4.7

ARC 5: HEARTH
Hearth 5.1
Hearth 5.2
Hearth 5.3
Interlude 5a
Hearth 5.4
Hearth 5.5
Interlude 5b
Hearth 5.6
Hearth 5.7

ARC 6: DOUSE
Douse 6.1
Douse 6.2
Interlude 6a
Douse 6.3
Douse 6.4
Douse 6.5
Douse 6.6
Interlude 6b
Douse 6.7

ARC 7: BLAZE
Blaze 7.1
Blaze 7.2
Blaze 7.3
Blaze 7.4
Interlude 7a
Blaze 7.5
Blaze 7.6
Interlude 7b
Blaze 7.7

ARC 8: FLICKER
Flicker 8.1
Flicker 8.2
Flicker 8.3
Interlude 8a
Flicker 8.4
Flicker 8.5
Interlude 8b
Flicker 8.6
Flicker 8.7

ARC 9: WILDFIRE
Wildfire 9.1
Wildfire 9.2
Wildfire 9.3
Wildfire 9.4
Interlude 9a
Wildfire 9.5
Wildfire 9.6

Index of omakes:

A Light in Dark Places (@Lithos Maitreya)
This is How the World Ends (@acegunner)
Thangorodrim Heavy Industries (@MagisterAurelius)

Home (@BeaconHill)

From the Journal of Annatar
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Here are the names and (seen) powers of the Rings and other esoteric artifacts Taylor has used thus far. If you're familiar with Tolkien, I think you might enjoy the story more if you didn't read this.

Narya
Epithets: The Ring of Fire, the Ruby Ring, the Red Ring
- Protection from mastery
- Hope
- Aura of presence
- Increased strength

Nenya
Epithets: The Ring of Water, the Ring of Adamant, the White Ring
- Concealment
- Barriers
- Speed
- Enhanced senses

Vilya
Epithets: The Ring of Air, the Blue Ring, the Ring of Sapphire, the Dominant Ring
- Mastery
- Precognition
- Elemental control
- Healing touch

Cenya
Epithets: The Ring of Earth, the Emerald Ring, the Green Ring

Laureya
Epithets: The Ring of Gold, the Ring of the Sun

Silmaya
Epithets: The Ring of Silver, the Ring of the Moon

Araya
Epithets: The Ring of Fire Opal, the Ring of Dawn

Histeya
Epithets: The Ring of Amethyst, the Ring of Sunset

Mirilya
Epithets: The Ring of White Topaz, the Ring of Jewels

Ondoya
Epithets: The Ring of Onyx, the Ring of Stone

Aeglos: The spear wielded by the elf-king Gil-Galad before and during the Battle of the Last Alliance in the Second Age.

Narsil: The sword of the house of Elendil, Númenorean king of Gondor, which cut the One Ring from the hand of Sauron and was destroyed in turn, only to later be reforged as Andúril.

Belthronding: The bow of Beleg, the Sindarin elf companion of Túrin during the First Age.

The Black Arrow: Wielded by Bard the Bowman in the battle for Esgaroth, the Black Arrow was an unerring, ever-returning arrow which Bard always saved for last. It was this arrow which smote Smaug in the gap in his armor, killing him.

Annatar's armor, as yet unnamed, is a suit of mithril platemail with no special magical properties beyond those possessed by all mithril.

The Jewelry Box is a mithril lockbox, sealed with a command phrase in Sindarin (Edro a adlenc!) which Annatar uses to store the Three Rings of Power.

Kid Win's hoverboard has been modified with mithril plating.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS (Please consider checking here before posting! I'll try to keep it mostly spoiler free.)

Q: "Does Taylor's power derive from a shard, or is she [legendarium character] reborn?"
A: I will not be answering this question, and welcome speculation in the thread.

Q: "Taylor's a trump, not a tinker!"
A: She's both. She crafts items that others can use (tinker), and those items give powers to their users (trump).

Q: "Can Taylor craft [insert legendarium artifact here]?"
A: If it's inorganic and from either the Second or Third Age, almost certainly. Otherwise, probably not, with some exceptions. Specifically, certain first-age artifacts are allowed; usually the ones that lasted into the Second and Third Ages, and didn't feel out of place there. For now.

Q: "Can Taylor use her powers to impart magical effects on modern and/or tinker-tech?"
A: Taylor is strictly limited to items that were explicitly built sometime in the Second and Third Age, so no. For now.
Q: "Does The Lord of the Rings and the rest of the legendarium exist in Earth Bet?"
A: Not in public knowledge. At the time of writing this FAQ, I'm still deciding whether it exists in Aleph or among scholarly works in some capacity.

Q: "Did or does Arda exist in this setting? Is modern Earth Bet the future Arda?"
A: Again, I won't be answering this, and welcome speculation on the point.

Q: "Can other tinkers use mithril?"
A: Sort of. Taylor can't actually produce mithril ore--she can only transmute whatever metal she's forging into mithril as she forges it. Processed mithril is hard as shit, to the point of near indestructibility, and that's all any tinker is going to have access to through her. So if they can use a metal that's already that hard for their purposes, sure. If not, then no.

Q: "In that case, can Taylor make components to another tinker's specifications out of mithril, which they then use?"
A: Yes. This is how she can collaborate with other tinkers. It wouldn't be a tinker-Taylor story without group tinkering!

Q: "Is [Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor / Lord of the Rings Online / Moria / Angband / any other third-party source set in Middle-Earth] canon to this story?"
A: NO. The only sources that I consider canonical to the legendarium are the written works of J. R. R. Tolkien and his son Christopher Tolkien. I also reserve the right to decanonize any portion of those texts written by Christopher that I deem necessary for this fic, although I will strive to avoid doing so and will always declare when I do. Any other sources are neither canonical nor necessarily applicable. I may derive inspiration from elsewhere, but not source material.

Q: "Can a person wear multiple Rings of Power?"
A: No. The Rings of Power tap the Bearer directly into the Song from which the universe was made; wearing more than one would fry a person. They might have godlike power for a very short time before they basically melted.

Q: "Can a person wear multiple lesser rings?"
A: Yep. They're quite a bit weaker and won't kill the wearer instantly at all.

POSSIBLE POINTS OF CANON DIVERGENCE:

There is (as with many things in The Silmarillion) some debate as to the canonical nature of Ungoliant, the mother of spiders. SpaceBattles user @JadeKaiser made a strong argument in favor of her being a corrupted Maia in these three posts. Nonetheless, for the purposes of this story, she is not an Ainur. Her origins lie elsewhere.

THE EPIGRAPH (Beware spoilers!)

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Three Rings for the Sentinels, honest and true.
Seven for the Wards, in their city of sin.
Nine for the Penitent, forged anew.
One for the Ring-Maker, to find light within,
On the shores where the rising Sun shines through.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to guide them;
One Ring to bring them all from out the Dark which hides them
On the shores where the rising Sun shines through.

THIS STORY'S EARLY CHAPTERS ARE CURRENTLY UNDERGOING EDITS! Edits will go through Arc 1 and likely about half of Arc 2. The following tracker will allow you to see which chapters have been edited and which have not.

ARC 1: GLIMMER
~~Glimmer 1.1~~
~~Glimmer 1.2~~
Glimmer 1.3
Glimmer 1.4
Glimmer 1.5
Interlude 1a
Glimmer 1.6
Interlude 1b
Glimmer 1.7

ARC 2: TWINKLE
Twinkle 2.1
Twinkle 2.2
Interlude 2a
Twinkle 2.3
Twinkle 2.4
Twinkle 2.5
Twinkle 2.6
Interlude 2b
Twinkle 2.7

The story is still absolutely readable during the editing process. All that is being changed is cosmetics.

WE HAVE A TROPES PAGE! Thanks to @Donquill and The Literary Lord!

I have a Patreon. The page can be found here. My explanation of what the Patreon means for this story is at this post. I won't be reposting that to this forum because it would be pretty redundant. Short version; the Patreon has no effect on this story.

The table of translations for all Elvish, Dwarvish, and other words and phrases used in this story may be found here.

I've had more fun writing Ring-Maker than almost anything else I've written, and I hope you all enjoy reading it half as much.

POSTING SCHEDULE:
Chapters are posted every Monday, at 7:00 PM GMT, with a four hour grace period before I consider myself late. Please wait until after 11:00 PM GMT before knocking down my door; I probably just got busy with something out in the world.

The minimum chapter length is 2,000 words; I tend to average slightly about 2,500.

Like the original Worm, Ring-Maker is split into arcs, each of which (so far) consists of seven chapters and two interludes. The first arc is called Glimmer.

That should be enough to be going on with. I hope you all enjoy:

Ring-Maker

-x-x-x-

Ash nazg durbatulúk,
Ash nazg gimbatul.
Ash nazg thrakatulúk
Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Translations:

QUENYA:

The Rings of Power:

The Three:

Vilya; derived from vilya, meaning "air." Speculated that víl may be a more archaic Quenya word forming the root thereof.

Narya; derived from nár, meaning "fire."

Nenya; derived from nén, meaning "water."

The Seven:

Cenya; derived from cén, meaning "earth."

Laureya; derived from laurë, meaning "gold."

Silmaya; derived from silma, meaning "silver."

Araya; derived from ára, meaning "dawn."

Histeya; derived from histë, meaning "dusk."

Mirilya; derived from miril, meaning "shining jewel."

Ondoya; derived from ondo, meaning "stone."

The -ya ending in the names of the Rings of Power is an adjectival suffix denoting endearment.

(This means that each Ring of Power has as part of its very name the term "precious.")

Annatar; "Lord of Gifts." (Literally, "King of Gifts.") Derived from anna, "gift," and tár, "king."

Narsil; "The Red and White Flame." (Literally nár-thil; from nár meaning "fire" and thil meaning "white flame." This represents the Sun and Moon.) [Note: My usual Quenya source, Ambar Eldaron, does not contain the word thil. That term is derived from the Lord of the Rings Wiki. It's accuracy may be questioned; if it is mistaken, the actual source is sil, meaning "white."]

Im ná i Calimatar Hrómen; "I am the Bright Lord of the East." (The second article is implied.)

Tévië; Hatred/contempt (in the original source material, it translates directly to hatred. In Ring-Maker, I choose to assume that it has subtle differences from its English analogue.

SINDARIN:

Aeglos; "icicle." (Literally, 'snow-point.')

Edro a adlenc! "Open and release!" (Literally, edro is the imperative form of edra-, meaning "to open;" a means "and," and adlenc is, in modern Sindarin, the noun "release," but in archaic forms it was a verbal form, apparently imperative.)

Ego, limlug, ulunn i gaer! Ú-hirithach si tûr! "Begone, fish-dragon, monster of the sea! You will find here no victory!" (Limlug is literally a word for fish-dragon. I wish I knew the context in which it fist appeared.)

Iphannis; "Permafrost." (Literally, Iphant niss, long-lived frost.)

---

The rhyme of Aeglos:

Gil-galad ech vae vaegannen matha
Aith heleg nín I orch gostatha
nin cíniel na nguruthos
Hon ess nín istatha

Aeglos

"Gil-galad wields a well-made spear
The orc will fear my point of ice
When he sees me, in fear of death
He will know my name: Aeglos."

(This poem is derived from and was written for the Lord of the Rings films. The spear itself is canonical, but the inscription does not appear in the original legendarium. As such, certain parts of this translation are invented words for the purposes of the films.)
---

Ir fuin tôl or i amrún
Ar i Anor nelêdh annûn
Tolo na Annatar, na i rhûn:
Ad i galad sílatha ed rhûn na dûn.

Translates to:

"When darkness comes upon the East
And the Sun has entered sunset
Come back to Annatar, to the East
The light will shine from East to West."

VALARIN:

Section empty!

THE BLACK SPEECH:

Búrzashdurb: The One that Rules the Dark. (Derived from búrz, dark [itself derived from búrzum, darkness]; ash, one; and durb, to rule [from durbatulûk, "to rule them all"])

KHUZDUL:

Section empty!

Works cited:

Ambar Eldaron Quenya-English dictionary
Ambar Eldaron English-Quenya dictionary
Hiswelókë's Sindarin-English Dictionary
Hiswelókë's English-Sindarin Dictionary
Valarin - Like the Glitter of Swords
Orcish and the Black Speech
I am currently still looking for a good Khuzdul dictionary. I will update this section when I decide on one to use.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many thanks to @BeaconHill and @Skyrunner for betareading.

-x-x-x-

The grey light of the early dawn filtered through my bedroom window as I looked over my newest—my first—creations. My teeth slowly worried my lower lip. Some Tinker I am, I thought ruefully. Can't even use more than one of my inventions at a time.

I hadn't tested that, of course. The knowledge was as instinctive as it was certain. To wield a single Ring of Power was a burden; to carry two at once would have been unconscionable, even to the Ring-Maker herself. It would have left me a burned-out husk—if that—both in body and in spirit.

Shaking those thoughts away, I took the first of the Three into my right hand and turned it around in my fingers, watching as the light caught on the golden band. "Narya," I whispered—its name. This Ring would have the power to keep its wearer, and their allies and friends, safe from domination and despair—including master effects. It was probably a trump power, by the PRT's classifications, since it would operate on other parahuman powers—but that was a woeful understatement.

In a slow, smooth motion, I slid the Ring of Power onto the index finger of my left hand. Its band was smooth and burnished and fit perfectly, seeming to pulse like a beating heart. In an instant, there was a rush of heat. Flame ignited and coursed through my veins, warming me from the tips of my toes to the peak of my scalp. Narya, the Ring of Fire.

A weight seemed to melt away from my shoulders. Winslow High suddenly seemed so far away. Emma, Sophia, and Madison seemed even farther.

I smiled, then glanced across my desk. The clock read 6:35 AM. Time to start my morning run. Staying up all night was usually a mistake, but with Narya on my finger I felt more invigorated than I would have after any mere night of sleep.

I was ready.

-x-x-x-

I tried to keep the smile off of my face as I walked through Winslow's gates, and found I couldn't do it. Narya was there, secure on my finger, as warm and nostalgic as the comforting embrace of a mother, and I just couldn't help smiling at the absurdity of fear in the face of that fact. Fear fled before me like some nocturnal thing, scampering away to its hiding place before the light of the dawn.

"Look at that," whispered one of Emma's lackeys—Julia? Was that her name?—as I passed a gaggle of them in the hall. "Think she's high?"

"She's got no other reason to smile," said another snidely. "Not like anyone here actually likes her."

The malice slid off of me like cold water running against a steel blade. It meant nothing—less than nothing. Malice was without value unless it was backed by power, and not one of these sycophants had any.

And yet I couldn't really be angry with them. It wasn't as though they knew; they were just children playing out a role. I flashed them a faint smile as I passed them and entered the classroom.

-x-x-x-

My good mood didn't quite last all day. I had to meet Sophia eventually.

She shoved me aside roughly with her shoulder as we made our way to our shared math class. "Watch where you're walking, Hebert," she hissed as she passed.

Had she been anyone else, I'd have given her the same treatment I'd given others that day—a smile, and no other acknowledgement. But as I looked at her, Narya tightened slightly around my finger in warning, and a faint chill wormed its way up my spine.

I wasn't afraid of her. I knew what it was like to fear Sophia Hess, and this wasn't it. But, for the first time that day, I was suddenly cautious. Her eyes, glimmering with the same unabashed malice I'd seen in so many others, spoke of something more.

Power.

Sophia Hess, I realized, was more dangerous than the rest of Winslow High's population put together.

And I was her target.

Fuck.

-x-x-x-

Lunchtime came. Rather than cause myself trouble by trying to avoid notice in the cafeteria, I brought my food into the third floor girls' bathroom and started to eat my packed pita wrap in one of the toilet stalls.

It wasn't exactly what I'd call five-star ambiance, but then, neither was anywhere in the shithole that was Winslow High. Nor were many places, here in Brockton Bay.

Unfortunately, my peaceful lunch was not to be. I was about halfway through my wrap when I heard a gaggle of girls enter the room with a giggling and a chattering to wake the dead. I recognized the voices—these were girls who took an active part in my torment.

There were six stalls in the third-floor girls' bathroom. There were six girls' bathrooms throughout Winslow. So there was no doubt in my mind, when they knocked on the door of my stall, that they were looking for me.

I waited for the second knock before I sighed. "Occupied."

"Oh my God, it's Taylor!" one of them shrieked.

How many bathrooms had you already checked? I wondered, but didn't bother to say aloud. Instead, I slipped my unfinished pita back into its bag, stood up, and undid the lock.

"Do it," another girl said in response to a whisper.

There was a thump on the door just as I touched the handle. A gentle push failed to open it.

My lips twisted as I heard somebody squirm, as though stretching to reach a height. They were going to toss, or pour, something over the top of the door.

Well. Narya tightened gently over my finger. There was being non-confrontational, and then there was being weak. I was more than happy to do the former, but the latter did not sit well with me

Narya flared with power, augmenting my strength as I pushed the door open. I heard a startled cry as it bowled over both the girl who'd been holding it shut and the girl that had stood on her toes to pour—a can of cranberry juice, apparently—onto my head.

The red liquid spread across the floor as I appraised them, my lips twisted into what was probably a vaguely disapproving look. "Really?" I was less angry than annoyed. "You couldn't think of a better use for cranberry juice?"

They blinked up at me, the juice spreading into one girl's hair. I took pity on her and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the puddle. "You'll want to wash your hair," I advised sagely, nodding at the mess. "That stuff sticks, you know?"

They stared at me, blinking, without reply. After a few moments, I shrugged. "Well, anyway. Unless you want to try that again, I'm off. Done with lunch anyway."

I turned and walked out of the bathroom, waving nonchalantly behind me as the door shut. Vaguely I registered that this would seem out of character for me… but really, what could they do to me?

Sophia was dangerous, it was true, but the rest weren't. Not any more. I had Narya. I wouldn't be trapped in any lockers ever again.

Still, that girl hadn't had a handbag with her. No soap. Juice in one's hair was no joke—she'd be glad to get some help.

I made my way into the cafeteria and slipped through the crowd. They parted to allow me passage, often without even noticing they were doing it.

I flowed through them to the middle of the room, where Emma and Madison were sitting across from Sophia, talking merrily.

I came up behind the two. Sophia started as she saw me approaching.

"Hebert," she said, and there was a wary edge to her voice. "You're… here."

There was an odd note in her words, I noticed, and Narya tightened around my finger, but I ignored it. "Emma, Madison," I said, my voice low and casual. "A friend of yours got cranberry juice in her hair in the third floor bathroom. I told her to wash it, but that stuff sticks. Do you happen to have something to help her? You know, soap or shampoo?"

"What's it to you, loser?" Madison asked, sneering.

"Nothing, but I'm sure she'd be grateful for a bit of help getting cleaned up before class." I smiled at her before turning to leave.

"Wait a minute," Emma hissed, standing up. "You think you can just walk up to us like that and tell us what to do?"

I frowned at her. Not an angry, thunderous frown, which would take more effort than it was worth, but just a blank frown of bemusement. "Well, since the cranberry juice in her hair was supposed to go in mine, I don't really care whether you help her or not. I just thought I'd let you know."

I turned and left. No one stopped me. It struck me, later, how strange that was.

Not that they could have stopped me, of course. But they'd usually have tried.

-x-x-x-

I considered the three Rings before me, arranged in a small triangle on my desk. Already I itched to put Narya back on. Without it my body felt weak; my spirit, even weaker.

But there were two more Rings to experiment with, and today was Friday. I could wait for Monday to give the other two a proper test run, but something in me rebelled at the delay.

No. I was a cape. I was a superhero. I'd damn well act like it.

With a thought, my silver—no, mithril—hammer appeared in my right hand, and I turned to find the mithril anvil behind my chair. My power allowed me to summon them at any time, although neither was visible to other people around me.

(Learning that had made for a long and slightly embarrassing story. I'd been forging the Three downstairs in the afternoon, thinking Dad would be home late, when he'd walked in just as I raised my hammer over the anvil. He'd seen neither and had, in fact, walked around the anvil without noticing on his way to the kitchen. Stranger powers were... strange.)

I passed my left hand over the anvil's smooth surface, thinking. The Three had been the first designs to come into my head, but as I'd considered the need for a costume over the past weeks, more had risen in my mind: armor forged of mithril, platemail made to look like folded, silver leaves. It would be light as a feather, and harder than steel.

I crossed my bedroom, reached into the closet, and pulled out the beginnings of my armor. The breastplate and backplate were done, as were the boots and the leggings up to the knees. My thighs would be exposed if I went out in this, although my hips would be at least partly protected by the tassets.

That was good enough for a cape's first night out, I figured. Especially a cape bearing one of the Three.

One thing, however, was missing.

I smiled and took some of the metal junk and scrap I'd been salvaging over the past months back to my desk. I grabbed the long lighter I always kept there, lit it, and set it on the anvil, with the flame facing into the pile of scrap. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and began to strike at the twisted fragments with slow, steady blows from my hammer.

Bit by bit, the rusted metal began to transform—the tarnished steel and iron transmuting itself into bright mithril, reshaping into the form I desired. It would have been much faster if I had access to a fire hotter than a damn lighter, but a proper forge wasn't exactly something I could order online for a hundred bucks.

I was at it for hours, although I only occasionally noted the passing time. I greeted my Dad when he got home, and even went downstairs for a quick hug before returning to work. I went down again for dinner about half an hour later.

I hammered away at the metal until the early hours of the morning, but when I was done, I knew it had been worth it.

The shining silver helmet in my hands seemed to cast a glow as soft and luminous as the moonlight streaming in through the window—but where the moon lit only a thin strip of my floor, the helm's light seemed to spill over every surface in my bedroom. I turned it over in my hands and, after a moment, slipped it onto my head.

It fit perfectly, as I knew it would, but there was one more thing I wanted to try. I took it off, gathered up my long hair, and threaded it through the hole in the back as I put it on again, so that my hair ran down it like a plume.

The front of the helmet covered the skin around my eyes and nose like a store-bought domino mask, but infinitely higher in quality. I crept out of my room and slipped into the bathroom to study myself in the mirror.

I closed the door gently behind me, flicked on the lights, and was struck dumb, blinking at the unfamiliar visage in the mirror.

Nothing had changed besides the fact that I was wearing a mithril helmet. And yet, somehow, my too-wide mouth fit perfectly into the space between the side panels, and my large eyes seemed almost to shine from within behind the mithril plate. My pale skin, rather than being washed out by the glow of the metal, seemed instead to subsume its incandescence, it too glowing with starlight.

I never wanted to take this helmet off. I hadn't felt this good about my appearance in… well, ever.

I smiled, and the radiant person in the mirror smiled back. Sure, she was a little blurry without my glasses, but any of the Three would work in place of those.

Well, that settled it. Tomorrow, on Saturday, I would take up the mantle of a superhero for the first time.

A glance at the clock cut my musings short. For now, however, it was almost four in the morning, and in just two and a half hours, I would need to be rested for my run.

-x-x-x-

Please consider donating to my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already donated.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many thanks to @Carluun and @Lorostan for betareading.

-x-x-x-

My eyes were still fluttering open as I groggily fumbled for my alarm, shaking myself out of slumber.

Run. Yes. Good.

I gracelessly fell out of bed and stumbled over to my desk. As I opened the drawer, I screwed my eyes closed and opened them again to clear away the fog. The Three Rings of Power glinted in the half-light, shining like stars before me. Narya I now knew—it was time to try one of the other two.

"Nenya," I decided, running my fingertips along the the mithril-and-diamond band. This Ring would have the power to protect, preserve, and conceal, as well as defend its wearer from most Masters.

I slipped Nenya onto the index finger of my left hand and immediately felt refreshed, as if I had just bathed in and drank from a cool mountain stream. Clearest water ran through me, rushing through my bloodstream, cleansing, purifying, and fortifying. Nenya, the Ring of Water.

A smile spread across my face. I bounced on the balls of my feet, reveling in the smooth grace I felt in every muscle. Then I rolled my shoulders, turned, and dashed out of the room, my feet making barely a sound on the wooden floor.

-x-x-x-

Dad was awake when I got back. "I didn't hear you leave," he told me over the sound of frying eggs. "Have a good run?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's getting easier every day. Too easy, even. I should maybe start earlier, or go for another run in the afternoon."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it, but don't you think starting even earlier might be pushing it?" Dad's brows were furrowed and the corners of his mouth were turned down in worry. "It's already still dark out when you leave."

"True," I admitted. Of course, with a Ring of Power on my finger, I wasn't exactly afraid of muggers or petty criminals. Even so, there's no reason to worry Dad. "You're probably right. Maybe I'll go for a run after school instead."

"How is school, by the way?" Dad asked hesitating slightly on the question as he brought the skillet of scrambled eggs over to the table and set them down. "Still the same?"

I shrugged and gave him a smile. "Depends on what you mean," I said, serving myself a helping with the spatula. "They're still doing it, if that's what you're asking. I just…." I glanced out the window for a moment.

Do I tell him?

Nenya curled comfortingly around my finger. Not advising me; simply promising support regardless.

"I… had a bit of an epiphany yesterday," I said eventually.

"Oh, really?" Dad asked, a faint smile coming to his lips and clearing away the lines of care for a moment.

I nodded. "They really can't hurt me," I said, choosing my words carefully. "What do I care what a bunch of stupid kids say? They pulled off the locker"—I saw Dad wince as I turned back to him—"once, but they won't manage again. I won't let them."

Dad looked concerned again. "It's good to hear you standing up for yourself, Taylor, but what if they gang up on you?"

I smiled at him. "I won't let them." With Nenya on my finger, it really was that simple.

As I finished my meal, I thought about my plans for that night, and considered what I still had to prepare. Nenya was a wonderful thing, and my costume/armor was great, but if I was going to be a superhero, I needed a complete image.

I needed a weapon.

As I returned to my room, already summoning my hammer and anvil, I found myself smiling at the thought. I was a Tinker, and I had ideas.

One such idea would see me going out later that day for a long piece of wood. Rather than buy an overpriced plank from a hardware store, I went out to the nearest park and grabbed an oaken branch which had fallen off of a tree. I brought it home to carve, and used the bladed back-end of my hammer to carve a long cylinder out of it, which I then sanded and varnished until it shone.

By the time I finished that, it was getting dark. I'd have to add the blade tomorrow.

I took the haft and hid it in the closet before dinner. I spent the rest of the evening rushing through as much homework as I could before I turned in early, around eight.

My alarm was set for midnight. When it rang, I'd pull out my armor and the half-finished weapon, and head out with Nenya.

It was time to be a superhero.

-x-x-x-

With Nenya, my footsteps passed like slow water passing silently over rocks. It seemed natural that I could leap from the top of one building to the next, or jump down a story without any difficulty. I crept above the rooftops at a crouch, drawing on Nenya's power to conceal me from unfriendly eyes.

The night air was cool, and the faint wind coming down from the west kissed my exposed lips and nose. I smelled a faint hint of salt from the sea, as always, but mixed within it were the scents of the day, still lingering on the breeze—car exhaust, sweat, various foods, and sundry other smells. Nenya delivered these and other sensations to me with a clarity unmatched, save by the piercing light of the stars overhead.

There's nothing quite like deliberately walking into the most dangerous parts of a nearly bankrupt city in the dead of night. My heart was beating just a little faster than usual, and I felt laser-focused. Excitement—and a shade of caution—thrummed across the fine membrane of my skin like goosebumps.

As I passed over an alley, the silence of the night broke around me. Voices rose up from below, and Nenya picked the sound out of the air and fed it into my ears. "—didn't want to pay his dues, so we're gonna take what he owes us. With interest."

I was in ABB territory, so it was no real surprise when I looked over the edge of the building and saw four Asian guys huddled together. I glanced across the street. There was a small restaurant there, on the ground story, and the loft above it looked like the living quarters of the proprietor. No other businesses were present within sight.

I figured the owner had failed to pay the ABB protection money, and was now going to get robbed for it. Except, of course, that I was here.

Nenya curled about my finger. I agreed. I should at least wait until I was sure.

I stayed crouched on the roof of the one-story building as the gangbangers left the alley and stealthily crept over to the shop. One raised a crowbar as they approached the door.

That was when I acted. I vaulted over the low façade of the roof and fell the twelve or so feet to the ground. Nenya saw to it that my drop was feather-light. "You really shouldn't," I called.

They spun around, and oh my they had guns. Or two did, anyway; the others were carrying long combat knives.

Later, thinking back, I'd conclude that even then I hadn't been scared—not really. I had Nenya, I had my armor, I had my haft. There was nothing to fear from four gangbangers, even if one of them had a pistol, and another had a shotgun.

But I did stop and think.

"Who're you, bitch?" one asked.

"Cape, obviously," said another. "But alone. You're not a Ward, are ya, or Empire? Just a little girl playing superhero, picking a fight with the ABB."

A third sneered. "Big mistake, that."

I smiled. "We'll see," I said, shifting my grip on the incomplete weapon and beginning to stride forward.

The pistol fired, and that was a surprise—I expected them to at least try to negotiate before going for a kill. The boy who fired it looked younger than the others—perhaps he was new. He was grimacing in fear and nerves.

…Hell, I knew his face. He went to Winslow, didn't he? Small world.

Casually, I slid through the air, the bullet missing my shoulder by almost a foot. "Like I said," I told him, grinning slightly, "you really shouldn't."

"Shit," muttered one guy with a knife. "Mover—dodges bullets."

"Oh, I'm more than that," I said quietly. "Drop the guns and no one has to get hurt."

"Yeah, I don't think so," said the guy with the shotgun. "Like to see you dodge buckshot." Then he fired.

Probably I couldn't dodge buckshot. But Nenya was the Ring of Protection, so I just gestured with my left hand and a transparent barrier flared to life around me. The shot impacted it with a muted whoomph, setting it rippling in a hundred places, like raindrops on the surface of a pond.

I smiled at him.

"Fuck," he said, sounding almost resigned.

"Drop the weapons," I advised.

The looked at each other, hesitating, but after a moment they obeyed.

Suddenly, the world was swallowed up in darkness. A shadow seemed to pass over the night, deepening it to pitch. Even my sight, enhanced by Nenya to the point that I hadn't bothered wearing my glasses, was muted to nothing. Sound, too, was obscured.

I acted. I threw myself backward and clambered back up the wall opposite the shop.

The darkness dissipated as I did so, and when I reached the rooftop I spun, my eyes darting from one place to another, looking for the cause.

There. Just outside the cloud of shadows, taking cover behind a dumpster, were three people—two girls and one guy, a little older than me, by their body shapes. The guy was clad in a white renaissance affair, richly embroidered, with a scepter in his hand and a pale jester's mask. He was tall and thin, and his hair was brown. One of the girls was a blonde, wearing a purple bodysuit and domino mask. The other, with auburn hair… was wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, and a dog-shaped mask I recognized from the local Dollar Store.

Since she was astride one of three truly massive monstrosities, though, I somehow doubted she was harmless. What even are those things? I wondered. Projections?

I leapt from one rooftop to the next unnoticed, approaching them. I heard them as I got close.

"—new hero, I think," said the girl in purple. She sounded frustrated. "Couldn't really get a read on her. My power just… slipped off of her. Hard to explain. It's like she was… hiding in plain sight, or something."

I considered that. This girl clearly had some kind of Thinker ability which should have given her information on me, but Nenya's concealment had protected me.

Something to consider.

I quietly dropped into an alley near them and crept up behind them, hiding myself with Nenya. Soon, I was among them.

"So," I drawled. "What're you people up to?"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" The guy in white dove away, even as the girl on the… animal whistled.

"Hurt," she ordered.

Oh, fuck.

The two other things—dogs? The girl wore a dog mask. Some kind of mutant hounds?—leapt at me. I ducked, rolled, and slid out of the way before diving back into the alley.

The dog-things followed me to the entrance and then blinked, glancing around, as though looking for me. I'd ducked behind a box, but without Nenya I'd have been easily visible and even more easily smellable.

"Stranger power," said the voice of the girl in purple grimly. "We need to get out of here."

I smiled and crept away a little distance before climbing back up the wall to the roof.

The darkness had dissipated, and the three had been joined by a fourth—a guy in all black, with a helmet like a skull on his head. "…did you manage to get into the shop?" the girl in purple was saying.

The guy in black shook his head. "I came as soon as I heard Bitch," he said. "What happened?"

"The armored girl," the girl in purple said. "She's a stranger—snuck right up into the middle of us. We should get out of here. What happened to the gangbangers?"

"Knocked them out and left them there," the guy in black said. "Sure we can't make it into the shop?"

"Grue," the girl in purple said darkly, "I can't get a read on this girl. All we know is that she took exception to their shoplifting. Do you want to get into a fight with an unknown cape, who—in case you missed it—is immune to my powers?"

"No," admitted the guy in black—Grue, apparently. "Okay, Tattletale, we'll do it your way. Let's go."

Soon, all four were astride the dog-monsters and galloping away.

I let them go—I didn't like my odds against four supervillains, even people small-time enough that my cursory research hadn't turned them up—and returned to the gangbangers. As Grue had said, they were out cold in a head outside the shop door, their weapons in a pile beside them.

I quickly unloaded the ammunition from each weapon and then considered the four men.

I need a phone.

How was I supposed to call 9-1-1 without one, after all?

Oh, well. I had alternatives. I fished in the guys' pockets until I found a phone and dialed.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" a businesslike woman's voice said over the line.

"I'm…" I began, and paused. There was a word on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't sure why.

After a moment, I shrugged and went with it. "I'm Annatar," I said, and the name felt right. "I've got four ABB gangbangers out in front of…" I glanced at the store's hanging sign, "…Toshi's Noodle House, on Westbrook Avenue. They're unconscious, and I've removed the ammo from their guns. Can I get a pickup?"

There was silence. "Annatar, you said?" the responder asked. "Is that a cape name?"

I smiled. "Yeah," I said. "You won't have heard of me. I'm… new."

"All right," said the responder. "Procedure with a cape's involvement is to send a Protectorate member with the PRT. I'll send them your way."

"Thank you." I hung up, tossed the phone back onto its owner's prone body, and settled down to wait.

-x-x-x-

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Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

I glanced up when I heard the oncoming motors. I'd been reclining against the wall of the shop, not dozing, but resting.

It seemed the PRT had arrived.

Not just the PRT, at that. I blinked, and suddenly there was someone standing in front of me. His costume was red, and stripes intersected on his chest to form a V. Velocity, Brockton Bay's very own speedster.

I smiled at him. "Hello," I said.

He smiled back, his lower face visible under the mask. "Hey," he responded. "Annatar, right?"

I nodded. "These four were about to rob this place," I said, jerking my head back at the noodle shop. "I stopped them."

"I can see that," Velocity said, gesturing to the PRT troopers just now getting out of their patrol vans. The men came forward and began to load the unconscious bodies onto the vehicles. Then he turned back to me. "So, Annatar," he said. "Is this your first night out?"

I nodded. "I only got my gear into working condition today," I said. "I mean, my spear isn't done, but I didn't intend to be stabbing anyone today anyway."

"That's good," Velocity chuckled. "Killing someone is usually a bad way to start a heroic career. I assume you are going to be a hero?"

"I'd like to be," I replied, watching as the PRT troopers gathered the ABB members' guns. I handed one of them the magazine I'd been idly playing with while I waited.

"Well, I'd say you're off to a good start," he said. "What happened here, exactly?"

"I was on the rooftops," I said, "and I saw these guys coming out of the alley. Heard them, too. They were saying that the shopkeeper—Toshi, I guess—hadn't paid the ABB his protection money."

"So they decided to take it from him."

"Guess so. I dropped down behind them and told them to stop. They shot at me; that didn't work. I told them to drop the guns, and they did, but then someone else got involved."

"Someone else?" Velocity's voice sharpened slightly.

I nodded. "Capes—four of them," I said. "Tattletale, Grue, and… Bitch, I think? And one more."

"The Undersiders," the Protectorate cape said grimly. "Small-time villain team. I guess 'Bitch' is another name for Hellhound. The fourth guy: was he wearing a white costume with a jester's mask?"

I nodded.

"His name's Regent," Velocity explained. "He's a master 2, causes muscle spasms. Which can be more dangerous than it sounds, in the right situation, and he's good with it. Bitch is another master—she can enhance and control dogs."

"I saw them," I said. "Those big mutant things. Those are dogs?"

He nodded. "She touches them and they grow. I think it wears off after a while. Grue creates big dark clouds which mute sounds and blind you. He's immune to it, though, and if you're both in it, he'll see you even if you don't see him. Tattletale's a thinker. We don't know the details. She claims to be telepathic. It's probably not that extreme, but we haven't been able to determine her limits."

I can't get a read on this girl. It seemed Concealment was for more than just hiding from mutant hounds.

"Grue put one of his clouds over us," I remembered. "I tried to get out of the way, and got out of the cloud, then snuck up on the others. I guess I spooked them; they called Grue back and ran without finishing the shoplift."

"Impressive," Velocity praised. "You're not hurt?"

I shook my head. "Bitch—uh, Hellhound—tried to set her dogs on me, but I got away."

"Nicely done," he said. "Not many people could drive off four supervillains without a scratch. Uh, you're… Wards-age, I'm guessing?"

"I am," I said slowly, watching him.

"Then, have you considered joining up?" Velocity asked carefully. "It's dangerous for an independent hero out here. You must know that."

"I do," I answered. "And I have. I still am, as a matter of fact. Considering, that is."

"Well, I don't want to rush you," he told me. "Just… be careful while you're deciding, all right? We don't get new heroes often, Wards or not, and I'd hate for you to die because you were going it alone. The Undersiders are just the start—there's far worse things out here."

"I'll be careful," I promised. "Thank you, Velocity."

He nodded. "Do you have a phone?" he asked. "I can give you a number for Protectorate consulting. We offer it to independent heroes. And, if you want, I can put your number into the system as an independent we can work with."

"Sorry," I said, grimacing. "No cell phone. Maybe I should get one."

"Probably a good idea," he agreed. "If only so you can call for help if you need it."

The irony struck me: I'd been denied a cell phone because one had gotten my mother killed, and if I wasn't careful, its absence might do the same to me.

"I'll do that," I said. "I'll probably get in touch with the Protectorate pretty soon about joining the Wards, if only to let you know I've decided not to."

"Fair enough," Velocity said. "Door's open, though. Good luck."

I grinned at him. "Same to you," I said.

With that, we parted ways.

-x-x-x-

I returned home unmolested. I took off my armor and deposited it in my closet, stored the haft I was working on, and crossed over to my desk, pulling off Nenya as I went.

I sighed at the feeling of loss that came with removing the Ring. I really didn't enjoy being without one anymore. I pulled open my drawer, placed it in, and then stopped.

Why not?

I shrugged, took up the last ring—gold, and embedded with a sapphire. I turned it over in my fingers for a moment. "Vilya," I murmured.

I slipped it onto my fingers, and suddenly felt light as a feather. A cool wind gusted across my skin, caressing me gently, cooling and tempering my aching muscles. My hair billowed slightly around me, and I found my eyes closing serenely. Vilya, the Ring of Air.

I smiled and, Vilya still firmly on my finger, went to bed.

-x-x-x-

Running was not especially fun on three hours of sleep. I'd done it twice now. But Vilya kept me aware and alert, and even soothed the soreness and the aches that came with the exertion.

Breakfast with Dad was much the same as it always was; simple, calm, and lacking in real conversation. For months, I'd been upset with him for how little he understood, how badly he knew me, and then I'd felt guilty about it because how could he hope to know me, when I told him nothing?

Now, I had distance, and strength. I could stand on my own two feet, and didn't need to lean on him, so it didn't hurt when he wasn't there to catch me.

But I still wasn't telling him.

I hammered away at the last parts of my leggings that day. The gauntlets, and the rest of my weapon, I'd finish over the course of the week. Then I did my homework—with Vilya keeping my thoughts clear and sharp, it was actually very fast—and by that time it was dinner.

Over dinner, I thought about whether I should go out that night. Vilya hadn't really been tested yet; I could get that out of the way tonight and then go to school tomorrow with whichever Ring I thought most suitable.

On the other hand, I kind of wanted to stay cautious. My armor was mostly done—all I needed now was gauntlets—but my weapon still wasn't, and I had no support. Independents had a bad habit of dying quickly in Brockton Bay, and dying didn't sound good, not when I had so much more to build.

I'd had a close shave with the Undersiders last night. What if next time it was Kaiser? Or Lung?

Also, the scrap metal I was transmuting into mithril really wasn't cutting it. I could transmute any metal into mithril, but purer, stronger ones were easier to work and took less time. I had a feeling the mithril I'd make that way was stronger, too. If I had a steady supply of steel, I could build twice as much in the same span of time, and it'd all be much higher quality.

But on the other hand, I didn't really need to finish my spear to go out. The haft was enough for everything I'd be doing with it. I wasn't about to skewer people, even villains. And the gauntlets, while I'd like to have them, weren't actually that important a component to my armor.

I'd had a taste of heroism, last night. It had been good. The rush of adrenaline that came with combat, short-lived as it was, and the pride that came with knowing I'd prevented a theft… I wanted that. I wanted more of that.

"Hey, kiddo, you all right?" Dad asked, interrupting my thoughts. He was looking at me, concerned, over our chicken and rice. "You've been awfully quiet today. Thinking about school tomorrow?"

"No," I said honestly, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork and taking a bite, thinking.

Do I tell him?

"I was thinking about the Protectorate, actually," I said. It wasn't even a lie.

He blinked at that. "Oh? What about them?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," I said. "The Triumvirate; they're basically three of the most powerful people in the country, right?"

Dad shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, probably," he agreed.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not where it counts. Because they're still Protectorate; they still answer to the PRT, and to the government through them. Alexandria could crush the president's head like an egg, but she still has to listen to them."

"That's all about limiting people, isn't it?" Dad asked, frowning at me. "If we just let people run things because they could beat up anyone who got in their way, it'd be anarchy."

"No, I know that," I said. "But… well, look. Capes have to go into the Protectorate if they want to be heroes. I mean, they don't have to—they can try to go it as independents, but I've never heard of an independent lasting longer than a couple weeks without getting folded into another group."

"There's New Wave," Dad argued. "An independent could join them."

I snorted. "New Wave is a family team," I said, "and everyone knows it."

"I suppose someone could make a new hero team," Dad said. "Build it from the ground up."

"And how do you think the Protectorate would react?" I put down my fork and thumbed Vilya idly. "They'd see it as an attack on their authority. No matter how good the new guys were, the Protectorate would find dirt on them, bury them in bad PR, bit by bit, until they had to either accept status as rogues or villains or join the fold."

Dad sighed. "All right, so say the Protectorate has a monopoly," he said. "What's so bad about that? It's not like they can charge more for being heroes."

I sighed. "Say a cape wants to do something else," I said. "Like politics. Problem is, they're either Protectorate, which means they can't be in the federal government because they're answerable to it, or they're villains, which means the Protectorate won't let them run."

Dad frowned. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of capes running the country, anyway," he said slowly. "What if they decided, I don't know, that normal people were somehow less than them?"

I snorted. "Then they'd get shut down," I said. "The other capes and the normal people wouldn't stand for it."

"Empire 88's still around," Dad reminded me.

I blinked. That was a good point. I shook my head. "Fair enough," I said. "That wasn't my point anyway. My point is, why does the Protectorate keep that system in place? Surely they could change things around if they wanted to. Why are the Triumvirate content to just run around in costumes rescuing kittens when they could easily be running the place?"

"Maybe they don't want to?" Dad shrugged.

"Power," I said, "always wants more power. Doesn't it?"

"I don't know," Dad said with a huffed laugh. "I've never really had enough power to know, kiddo."

After dinner, I considered my gear, running my thumb over Vilya on my left hand.

Power always wants more power, I thought. Right now, this city was in the grip of men for whom power was the end unto itself; people who would happily crush people like my dad under their feet if it meant even a tiny speck more power for them. And for years, they'd been running a campaign of aggression against the heroes and the innocent of this city.

Not one day more.

Look out, Brockton Bay. Annatar was coming. Maybe I'd run into Kaiser or Lung, but with Vilya I'd see them well before they saw me. I was done being afraid of bullies.

Tonight, I paid this city's scum back a bit for the hell they'd put me through. I knew for a fact there were villains in this city who were well within my weight class. I'd focus on them, avoid their betters, and get to work.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

'Avoiding the capes above my weight class' was a really good plan. I was quite proud of it.

A shame, then, that plans seldom, if ever, survive contact with the enemy.

I watched from the dark of the rooftop as Lung addressed his ABB. "…the children, just shoot. Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch twice more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"

I knew this was a bad idea. I knew I wasn't strong enough to take on Lung, Brockton Bay's resident dragon, arguably the city's strongest single parahuman.

But I also knew that if I turned my back and let children die, I'd never forgive myself.

Vilya cooled my thoughts, aired out my brain, let me think. So I did. I could use a payphone, call the PRT hotline, but the payphones were all down on the street, and the closest one that I could get to without being heard was over a block away. By that time, it might already be too late to offer any assistance.

The guys would have cellphones. If I could separate one from the pack, I could get it off of him and call the PRT.

But I also couldn't afford to wait until they engaged. At that point, it would be too late to cut Lung off before he started ramping up. I needed a distraction, and I needed to hope it either got Lung to back off or got him to split his group. And in case the hope was vain, I needed to make sure the distraction didn't compromise my location.

I glanced at my left hand, where Vilya glittered. Well, I thought. Here goes nothing.

I raised my left hand high, drew on the power of the Ring, and cast my thoughts outward to a nearby alleyway.

Light flashed, bright and pure, with a crack like the strike of lightning. Nothing dangerous to anyone—just a sound and a sight to draw attention.

That much it did. The entire ABB group whirled toward the noise.

"You three," Lung ordered, pointing at three of his guys. "Go see what that was. If you see anyone, come back at once. If you don't see anyone, check the alley, and then come back. You have three minutes."

He hadn't even missed a beat. I wondered why he wasn't going himself to investigate the probably parahuman phenomenon, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I leapt nimbly from one rooftop to another until I reached the one-story roof above the alley. The guys were just going into it. I swallowed.

Their guns were out and they were staying in a careful formation, going down the alley in a triangle. The guy in front had a shotgun; the other two had pistols.

I missed Nenya.

I tensed, ready to leap, and then, just as the guy in front passed behind a barrel—momentarily out of sight of the other two—I leapt down on them.

I fell on the shoulders of one of the guys in the back. He went down, but I came up rolling, and struck the guy with the shotgun with my haft. He bellowed as I hit him, and I knew Lung must have heard, and that was very bad.

But I wasn't dead yet. I struck him again, across the temple, and he went down properly. The third guy fired his pistol, and the round glanced off of my chestplate as I turned.

"Mistake," I said flatly, and pointed at him with the index finger of my left hand, Vilya shining like a blue star.

A bolt of lightning—far too weak to kill someone, as I intended—arced forth and struck him. He flew backwards out of the alley with a strangled yell. Without sparing him another thought I turned my attention to the last guy, who was clambering to his feet.

I gently put my Ring-bearing hand on his brow and allowed the Dominant Ring to do its work. "You're mine," I whispered.

For a moment, our wills strove against one another, my mind reaching out through Vilya and meeting his halfway. But he was a man accustomed to obedience, a man whose will had systematically been broken down by Lung, whereas I was the Ring-Maker.

He nodded dumbly, ceasing his attempts to rise, his eyes staring up into mine blankly.

"Follow me," I murmured. I heard the approaching ABB, Lung barking orders at their head.

I led my thrall out the back way of the alley and we ran in a crouch down the next road for about thirty feet before ducking into another alley. We crouched together behind a dumpster, and then I turned to him. "Give me your phone," I ordered.

He obeyed, and I punched in the PRT hotline.

"Parahuman response, what is your emergency?" the responder said.

"Lung," I replied flatly. "I heard him ordering his ABB around. They were going to kill kids. Intersection of Fifteenth and Chesterton."

There was a beat. "Very well, I've flagged this; Protectorate support is on its way," said the responder quickly. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Annatar. I'll try to stay alive. Gotta run." I hung up and handed the phone back.

For a moment, I studied my thrall's blank face. Then I made my decision. "Try to get into PRT custody," I said quietly. "They can protect you from Lung—he'll hurt you for disobeying, master or no master. If the ABB catches you, surrender to them; don't try to fight or escape. Once you're in either of their care, you'll be free from my power."

He nodded dully.

"Get moving."

He left, running down the alleyway opposite the way we'd come. I took a single deep breath and then left cover too, making for the nearest fire escape.

I clambered my way up it and onto the roof, then jumped across the alley and onto the next. I could hear voices in the street, Lung snarling at his mooks to keep searching.

I couldn't fight them; not like this, not without a lot more training, better gear, and a proper weapon. I needed to just keep quiet and hope the Protectorate got here before Lung either found me, or went back to what he was doing before.

Where would the Protectorate come from?

West. The knowledge came to me like a whisper, Vilya shimmering as its power flared.

And where would Lung go to look for the kids?

East.

Then my path was clear. I had to draw him west.

I moved across the roof as stealthily as I could manage, toward the road where Lung was ordering his men. Apparently, however, I was insufficiently careful. He hissed, seeming to tense, and then shouted once. "Quiet!"

I didn't dare breathe. Enhanced senses. I'd had them myself not twenty-four hours ago, for God's sake! I bit my lip and reached out with Vilya. Another flash burst forth from inside an alleyway to Lung's right and some distance ahead of him—west of his location.

He hissed. "A distraction," he said darkly. "They're too afraid to face us. Ignore it! Let's get on with things."

Shit.

I couldn't move for fear Lung would hear me, I couldn't attack because that was suicide, and I couldn't distract him because he'd caught on.

What did that leave? Stay here and pray the Protectorate would get here before Lung could kill his targets, doing nothing?

Fuck that.

I stood. I saw Lung's head whip around to face me, but I was already running—away, and to the west.

I heard him roar. I heard the whistling through the air as he leapt. I heard the crunch of his feet on the roof behind me. He was onto me now.

I dove off the roof and into the next street, landing in a roll, and kept running. He jumped down behind me and gave chase. I heard his guys yelling farther back.

Thing is, I had Vilya, and had been running three times every two days for months. Lung was a fucking dragon. They weren't fast enough to keep up, and they fell behind.

The problem? Lung was faster than me. He was gaining.

I couldn't afford to let him catch me mid-run. I had to face him at some point, because I couldn't defend myself when my back was turned. I waited too long, though, and when he was a little more than fifteen feet behind me (I think—without Nenya, my senses were only a little above human average) I felt a blast of intense heat on my back, blasting me forward and sending me sprawling ten, twenty feet down the road.

I rolled over and picked myself up, facing him. He was advancing more slowly now, his brown-on-red eyes glaring balefully at me from under that metal mask of his.

"You picked a bad fight, little girl," he said darkly. He was starting to change: his legs had shifted a little, tearing up his shoes as the ankle rose to form a digitigrade joint, and his spine had arched slightly so he was hunched a little as he approached, but he had grown, too, so he was still well over six feet tall.

I didn't answer except by shifting my grip on my haft.

"Any last words?" he asked, but that wasn't the only sound that came to my ears.

An engine.

I smiled. "Surrender," I said.

"You surrender?" He laughed. "You fuck with my boys, in my territory, and you think it's okay because you surrender?"

"No," I said. "I'm offering you a chance to surrender."

If anything he laughed harder. "What's your name, little girl?" he asked.

"Annatar," I said.

"Well, Annatar," he said, fire licking around his clenching fists. "I'll see your tombstone says 'she ha' 'alls.' 'Ow's 'at 'ound?" He was still growing visibly, hunching further, metal scales growing across his body in a slow creep. His words were starting to become muddled as his face morphed into a snout, rapidly becoming incomprehensible.

"It sounds," I said, "like you're not surrendering." I gestured with Vilya and lightning burst forth again, blowing him backward.

I'd pushed a hell of a lot more into the attack this time, and it left me a little out of breath, but I was proud to see that I'd at least had an effect, knocking him stumbling back a couple of steps.

He roared as he skidded, fire beginning to engulf his form, but I could see a light shining on him from behind me somewhere. I didn't dare turn and look, instead bringing my left hand to bear again, Vilya glowing bright on my finger.

A blue motorcycle came to rest beside me and a man in power armor swung his legs off of it. "You must be Annatar," he murmured.

"That's my name," I said. "Armsmaster?"

"That's right." The famous halberd was drawn and put forth at the ready. "Lung," Armsmaster called with a voice like steel. "Surrender, and this doesn't have to be hard."

" 'Uck 'oo." Lung's voice was little more than a brutal, animal snarl now. Fire lanced forth from him, launching at us in a blast.

Vilya could control the elements—fire, water, lightning, earth, the air itself… nothing totally drastic, like cracking open the planet or creating a vacuum, but I should be able to redirect a short burst of flame.

This was not a short burst, it was a steady stream. Besides which, it was dragon-fire, and dragon-fire is immune to most pyrokinesis. So I did what I could do, which was to throw myself out of the way. Armsmaster did the same, diving in the opposite direction, and then charging.

His halberd launched a dart of some kind, which struck Lung in the gut. Then another struck his neck. Lung bellowed, but there was something off, a note of weakness in the sound.

Tranquilizers, I guessed.

Armsmaster slowed as he approached Lung, firing off another dart into the man's leg. Lung fell to his knees, breathing heavily. I followed the Protectorate cape in, Vilya at the ready.

"Fuck you," gasped Lung, his transformation fading rapidly. "This isn't over."

"I think it is," said Armsmaster, and struck him hard across the temple. Lung went down.

I stared down at the dragon's fallen form, and then looked up at the hero. "Tinkertech tranquilizers?" I asked.

He nodded, turning to me. "You said he was going after kids?" he asked.

I nodded. "I heard him ordering his guys to shoot them," I said. "Children, he said."

Armsmaster nodded. "You're telling the truth," he said, and wasn't there something odd about that phrasing? "Admirable of you, to try to prevent that. Bit stupid, trying to take him on, though."

"I wasn't taking him on," I protested. "I had him running almost three blocks in this direction, headed for you. I only turned around when I heard your bike."

"Oh," Armsmaster said, glancing at the aforementioned bike. "How'd you know which direction I was coming from?"

I thumbed Vilya compulsively. "Minor precognition," I said. "I don't know exactly how it works. I just knew."

"A precog?" Armsmaster sounded interested. "That's a rare power."

I nodded. There was a reason Vilya was the greatest of the Three, even if its powers did spook me a little bit. Possibly that was why its powers spooked me.

"Velocity approached you about joining the Wards yesterday, didn't he?" Armsmaster asked.

"Yeah." I sighed. "Independents don't last long by themselves."

"Do you see why, now?" Armsmaster nodded at Lung's unconscious form. "I can only fight him because I've spent a long time coming up with a specific counter to him. You wouldn't have stood a chance on your own."

"I know."

"Then you'll join the Wards?"

I bit my lip. "I still need to think about it more."

"Look." Armsmaster sounded exasperated. "You seem like a good kid, but you're out of your depth, here. We can help you."

"That's what the adults tend to say," I said flatly. "Doesn't stop us triggering. You understand, Armsmaster? I got my powers because of people in the same position of power as you, right now. Because of their negligence. Forgive me if I'm not eager to trust another one."

There was silence.

"I understand," said Armsmaster quietly. "You didn't have a phone yesterday—I assume you've gotten one now, since you called the hotline?"

I shook my head. "I mastered an ABB guy and used his," I said. "Hopefully he'll find his way to PRT custody. I ordered him to turn himself in, and set my control to drop after that."

"You're a master, too?" Armsmaster asked.

I nodded. At least with Vilya, I privately added.

A slight frown spread over his face. "You're keeping something from me," he declared.

"Yes," I said honestly. "Shouldn't I?"

"We're not enemies," Armsmaster said. "We're both heroes, aren't we?"

As if it's that simple.

"But not all heroes are created equal," I said flatly. "Wouldn't you agree? I'd rather not have my powers become public knowledge to everyone in the Protectorate and PRT, if I can avoid it."

Armsmaster grunted. "Fine," he said. "We'd appreciate it if you came in for testing, though. Just so we know what kinds of problem you can best help with."

"I'll be honest," I said. "That's a big reason why I'm worried about working with you. My powers come with weaknesses." A phantom pain skidded a line of fire across my index finger, just above the knuckle. "Publicizing them just sounds like a bad idea."

"It's not as though we'll be telling the world every detail of your powers." Armsmaster sounded almost defensive.

"I don't like not controlling my own information," I said coldly. "I've had people turn on me before."

Armsmaster grunted and picked Lung up, slinging him over his shoulder. He started walking back to his motorcycle, talking to me as he did so. "There's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

"Like I said, I'm thinking about it."

"Well, think fast," said Armsmaster shortly. He strapped Lung to the back of the seat, zip-tied his legs and arms up so they wouldn't drag on the ground, and looked back at me. "You may not get this lucky again."

I smiled thinly. "I don't intend to need to get this lucky again," I said flatly.

Armsmaster sighed. "I hope to see you in the Wards, Annatar," he said, and drove off. I watched him go.

Then I sighed, stretched, and smiled. I'd rescued children from a murderer, and said murderer was now in Protectorate custody. Despite my sudden nascent dislike for Armsmaster as a person, I had to respect his efficacy.

Tonight had been a good night.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

School was standard, for most of the next day. The girls were still trying to get at me with words, words, words, and I was still having none of it.

I'd brought Vilya—despite its impressive performance the night before, I still hadn't tested it in school and I wanted to see how it worked out of combat. It became clear really quickly that Vilya wasn't Narya. I wasn't practically busting at the seams with confidence the way I had been on Friday. But I wasn't weak, either. I was a buried boulder to Narya's raised obelisk—more unassuming, but even less pliant.

But one thing was worrying me. Something had set Sophia off, and not in any way I wanted. If she'd just stepped up her campaign to physically harass me at every turn, that would've been fine. I could take that now, easily.

No, instead, she'd withdrawn a bit. She was still taking part in the teasing and the insults but she never even came within arm's length of me all day. Something I'd done the previous Friday had set her on edge.

Which of Narya's powers had she observed? Obviously, I'd been behaving differently; was it simply my newfound confidence that had tipped her off? Or had she heard of my increased strength from the girls in the bathroom? Or had it been the way the lunchroom parted for me when I passed?

For now, I doubted it mattered, but something about the girl had set Narya off as well, and Vilya was responding to her, too. Malice, backed by power. I would have to be careful.

Not too careful, though. I'd just faced down Lung and survived. I could handle Sophia Hess.

I had computer class with Mrs. Knott that day. Once I'd done the assignment, which took all of three minutes, I started browsing the Web, looking for information on the local cape scene. Specifically, I tried to learn more about the Wards.

The local Wards were seven in number.

Their leader, Aegis, was a classic brute: flight and redundant biology, which he could abuse to become an absolute tank on the battlefield.

Clockblocker was a striker who could freeze objects, including other people, in time. Kid Win was a tinker—like me—who used lasers and a hoverboard.

Browbeat was another brute who didn't have flight but who seemed to heal faster than Aegis did.

Gallant was possibly a tinker, although there was some speculation on PHO that his power armor was maintained by another tinker. Regardless, he could apparently shoot energy blasts which some witnesses said affected people's emotions in small ways.

Vista was younger than the other Wards, but had been a member for longer. She could apparently bend and stretch physical space.

Shadow Stalker was a former vigilante who carried a crossbow and could transform into a breaker state which made her look like a moving wisp of shadow.

The Wards program as a whole seemed to be a pretty good deal, but then, it had really good PR. Heroes were compensated both weekly and by way of a trust fund, accessible when they turned eighteen. In addition, tinkers—those whose inventions were replicable, at least, which wasn't all of them—would sell their patents to the PRT and would receive compensation.

There was discussion on PHO about whether it was more that they had to sell their patents, but that was probably no big deal to me. My armor and weapons were nothing special except that they were made of mithril, which only I could transmute, and I seriously doubted my Rings were replicable.

And even if they were, there was always—

I shook off that idea. I really didn't want to go there with my powers. I leaned back in the library chair with a sigh and thought about it.

On the one hand, that was an inflow of money—money both my dad and I sorely needed. It was also support, and possibly even a way to find allies to whom I'd want to give more of the Rings of Power.

On the other hand, it was a bureaucracy, an authority, to which I would be willingly subjecting myself. If Principal Blackwell and the rest of Winslow's staff had taught me anything, it was that authority was corruptible and, as a rule, untrustworthy.

Besides all that, I'd have to expose my weaknesses. I wasn't stupid enough to think I was invulnerable. All it would take was one Ring stolen, one dagger in the back, one slash across the knuckles, and I'd be down. End of story. Having to publicize that my powers came from my Rings didn't sit well at all.

I needed to think further. And I needed to finish my spear.

-x-x-x-

On my way home, I stopped at a supermarket and got myself a small, easily concealed safe with a combination lock. It wasn't a permanent solution, nor a perfect one, but I had a feeling something would present itself. Already I was having ideas for a mithril lockbox which couldn't be opened by anyone but the owner.

I didn't understand exactly how it would go about being permanently locked, but I'd learned not to question my powers. The Three worked fine, after all.

"Welcome home, Taylor," my dad called from the couch as I came in. "How was school?"

"Not bad," I said honestly.

"Really?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face.

I chuckled. "Sophia didn't try to push me around today," I said, and then frowned. "I'm worried about it, actually. I'm hoping they're not planning something big."

My Dad winced. " 'Big' as in…"

I sighed. "It's not out of the question," I admitted. "If they think they're not getting through to me, and they're not, they might escalate."

"What do you want to do, then?" Dad asked. "We could… I don't know, I guess we could try to take it to the administration again?"

I shook my head. "No, you don't get it," I said. "I'm worried they'll escalate, but not because I'm afraid of what might happen to me. I just don't want to have to escalate back." I grinned at him. "They pulled out all the stops a while back. I've got some ideas on how I can pay them back, if I need to."

Dad still looked worried. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Taylor," he said. "When they called me, after…"

"I know," I said gently. "I promise, Dad: I won't be getting shoved into any lockers or put into the hospital by those bitches again anytime soon."

-x-x-x-

I spent the rest of the evening molding mithril into the bladed head of that spear. In all honesty, it was less a traditional European spear and more a Japanese naginata, with a curved blade at the end.

On the flat of the blade, I carved a verse in a flowing script whose origins I didn't know. As I carved, I whispered the words to myself.

Gil-galad ech vae vaegannen matha
Aith heleg nín I orch gostatha
Nin cíniel na nguruthos
Hon ess nín istatha:

Aeglos

I pulled away the summoned hammer and chisel and studied the Tengwar inscription. This is weird, I thought. A whole language, now? Do other tinkers get things like this?

I sighed. It wasn't as though it didn't look fantastic. The engraved script seemed almost to shimmer blue against the silvery metal of the blade.

"Aeglos, huh?" I said softly, running my finger along the dull side of the blade. It was ice-cold to the touch. "You'll do nicely."

It was getting late, but I still had to bind the head to the haft I'd carved before. I did that with mithril bolts and some welding, and by then it was dark.

And now it was time to make decisions. Should I go out again tonight? Sleep deprivation didn't seem to be affecting me too badly as long as I kept my Rings on. I could probably manage it.

Or should I contact Armsmaster and the Protectorate? Much as I didn't really like the guy, he was right about one thing: I needed a team. Alone, I wasn't a pushover. With a solid group of Ring-Bearers behind me? I'd be unstoppable.

What was I so afraid of? Betrayal? I could handle betrayal, I thought. The only worry I had was that it would kill me before I dealt with it.

Realistically, though, was that likely? Did I really think the Wards could have stayed as a prominent, heroic organization if they were the type of group to take advantage of their members to that extent? Sure, they might try to stick me in a lab and get me forging Rings for them permanently, but if that happened—

I bit my lip. I couldn't even think about it without my stomach churning.

—if that happened, I… had options.

I really didn't want to, though. I didn't want the—that to be necessary. But they'd never done that to tinkers before. Kid Win, Gallant, and Armsmaster all went out into frontline combat just fine.

It'd be a good idea to downplay my Rings if I decided to join the Wards. Make them seem like ordinary, if powerful, tinkertech, instead of the fantastically broken artifacts they were.

Was it possible for me not to tell them about the Rings at all? Could I, say, claim to imbue my armor with powers, one powerset at a time?

I sighed. My train of thought was too far down the rabbit hole. I crossed my room and stood before my window, opening the blinds and the glass pane.

The stars were dim overhead, and shone pale and stark in only a few places against the black. Brockton Bay didn't offer much by way of stargazing, with the haze of city life and the light pollution washing out the sky.

I sighed, breathing in the cool spring air. Only one question mattered: Did I want to join the Wards? In the end, no matter what team I joined or formed, I'd have to open myself to betrayal from them, unless I wanted to go full Heartbreaker and make myself a force of Ring-thralls. And I didn't.

I really, really didn't.

The Wards were heroes, but I'd had a hero once. Her name was Annette Hebert.

I'd had two. The other was named Emma Barnes.

Vilya glimmered, and a single star, bright in the northern sky, seemed to twinkle brighter, as if in response.

I brought the Ring of Air to my lips, closing my eyes as I felt the cool metal against my skin.

Could I do this?

I smiled slightly.

Yes.

This world wasn't good to heroes, and anyone who believed in them was slowly learning cynicism. Brockton Bay hadn't had any hope for a long time.

I slipped Vilya off of my finger, crossed to my desk, dropped it into the lockbox, and slipped on Narya. The rush of fire, hot in my veins, invigorated and revived me, instilling a sense of purpose.

If the world wasn't willing to provide heroes, well, I'd just have to be one. The Wards were a start, but only a start. I had no illusions: the Protectorate ladder, with its bureaucracy, its rules, its rigidity, and its sense of entitlement to the very idea of heroism was not going to be my career path for the rest of my life.

But it was a start. In the Wards, I was fairly sure I could find a few like-minded people, people who were tired of the bullshit and the status quo, people who were willing to strike out on their own in the name of making a change.

So that was the plan. Today, the Wards—tomorrow, independence. One day, perhaps, I could look out my window and not have to look at the stars to find beauty.

But the Wards were a government organization, and they'd never allow me to join without parental approval. I was sure they'd willingly employ some morally gray methods to get that approval, if I asked, but I doubted that would be necessary.

I slipped into my armor. Only one thing was necessary now.

I left my room and headed downstairs. "Dad?" I called. "We need to talk."

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

"Dad?" Taylor called, her approach making the stairs creak. "We need to talk."

Danny glanced at the hall from the coffee table where he'd been signing work authorizations. "I'm in the living room!" he called to her.

Taylor emerged from the hall, and Danny felt his jaw drop. His little girl, who'd only two hours ago gone up after dinner, was wearing some kind of armor which seemed to shimmer silver, as though reflecting moonlight. In her right hand was a long spear, its tip shimmering blue, which she carefully held low to avoid slicing into the ceiling.

She came to a halt just inside the room. Danny Hebert stared, trying to find his voice.

"Don't worry," she said, and there was a laugh in her voice. "I have time."

"You're a cape." Danny felt the quaver in his voice even before it emerged.

Taylor nodded, her bushy hair bobbing where it emerged from the helmet like a plume. "Yes," she said.

"How?" he asked weakly. "When?"

"The locker," she said softly, and his heart froze.

"Oh, Christ, Taylor," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she said, and her voice was gentle. "It wasn't your fault."

Danny ignored that particular lie for the moment. "And you… made that?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm a tinker, Dad. I made my armor, and my spear… and my Rings." She knelt, carefully setting the long spear on the ground, before slipping her right hand over her left and pulling something off of her index finger. Suddenly he saw it—a small ring, made of gold, with a large ruby shining in it like a blood-red star.

"This is why you haven't been afraid lately," he realized. "This is why you've been so… confident, these past few days. You have powers. You can fight back."

"Fighting back," Taylor said, slipping the ring back on, "would be a very bad idea. At least if I did it directly. Before, the best they could do was punish me for fighting on school grounds. Now? I could get charged with assault with a parahuman ability. But that doesn't mean I have to take everything, either."

She fell silent, seemingly content to let her father take the affair in at his own pace. He tried to do so. His daughter, his sweet little girl, was a cape. A parahuman. A class of person who regularly threw themselves into life-threatening danger, whether for personal gain or for selfless reasons.

She'd been put under so much stress by those three monsters at her school that she'd come out changed. He'd known that already, but to have that change thrust before him in such a direct and concrete way was startling. Painful.

"So…." He tried to figure out what to say. "What are you going to do?"

"I want to join the Wards," she said promptly. "At least for now. I need allies, and my options there are the Wards, villains, or trying to start up my own team. I don't like the second option, and the third is too dangerous right now. The ABB will be gunning for me."

Danny tensed. "Why," he began slowly, "will the ABB be gunning for you?"

She smiled wryly. "Because last night, I helped Armsmaster take down Lung," she said.

Danny thought his eye might be twitching. "You what?" he asked.

"I went out in costume for the first time on Saturday," she said quietly, evenly. "I stopped a robbery and scared off some villains. Then, yesterday, I ran into Lung and the ABB. They were going to kill kids, Dad. I couldn't stand by. So I got my hands on a phone, called the Protectorate, and distracted Lung until Armsmaster got there."

"You fought Lung?" His voice was hoarse and weak with horror.

"And I won, Dad." Hers, however, was firm. "I won. Sure, I only won because Armsmaster got there in time. But a win is a win. I'm strong—I can help people. I have to try."

Danny fell back against the couch, his core giving out, leaving him sprawled and spread over the seat. "Please, Taylor," he implored. "Be more careful. I can't lose you."

"Believe me, Dad," she said with a chuckle. "I'd prefer not to die, too. Which is why I'm going to join the Wards. It's the safest option for me, right now, if I want to actually contribute and not just hide away and do nothing. And I can't do nothing."

He met her eyes. She wasn't wearing her glasses, but her gaze still seemed sharp and clear. Part of her powers, perhaps?

"Just promise me," he begged. "Promise me you'll be careful."

She came forward and embraced him. "I promise, Dad," she said gently. "I'll be careful. I promise."

He held her, and she comforted him, and as nice as it was, he loathed himself because it was supposed to be him that was the pillar she could lean on, not the other way around.

But Annette's death had broken him, just when she'd needed him most, and their relationship had never set quite right. She'd been through eighteen months of hell before he even found out the details, and even then she hadn't told him the whole story.

No, that he'd only found out tonight. His daughter has powers.

What was he supposed to do now?

"I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't even sure what he was sorry for, exactly, but he knew it was true.

"I forgive you," she said, and he thought she understood. She pulled away and met his gaze. "I can't promise 'no more secrets,' Dad, you know that," she said quietly. "I'll have to protect secret identities, and even classified information. I won't be able to tell you everything. But I love you, Dad. Even if I can't tell you everything, I love you."

He sat up and embraced her, and this time it wasn't her holding him while he tried to pull himself together; it was the two of them, holding one another close, relishing one another's presence.

"I love you too, kiddo," he said. "You want to skip school tomorrow, take a trip to the PRT office?"

She smiled against him. "That'd be great," she said.

-x-x-x-

He hadn't slept especially well that night. Who could blame him? His daughter was throwing herself headlong into one of the most dangerous professions in the world.

But he did sleep, and he woke up, as usual, a little after six in the morning. What wasn't usual was that Taylor was already up, and merrily frying bacon and eggs.

She looked up with a smile as he came down. "Hey, Dad," she said. "Seems like I don't need to sleep as much anymore."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, flipping a few rashes of bacon deftly with a spatula. "The Three seem to make me need only about four hours of sleep. Which is all I've been getting, the past couple of days, so I didn't notice."

Danny winced at the reminder. "Promise me you'll at least tell me when you're going out alone at the dead of night from now on?" he begged.

She smiled at him. "I doubt it'll be a problem," she said, "at least for a little while. I'll be a Ward, remember?" She pulled the skillet from the heat and turned off the gas. "Their patrol schedules are probably pretty regular, and I'm sure they'll make sure you know them."

He sighed. "I hope so," he said honestly.

She served two plates of bacon and eggs, set the skillet in the sink, and brought the plates to the table. "It'll be fine, Dad," she said gently. "I'll be fine."

He grimaced. "I'm just worried, Taylor."

"I know," she said. "And that's okay, but you don't need to be."

"It'll take me a while to adjust," he said.

"I figured," she said, laughing lightly. "It took me a while, too. I thought I was going crazy when the designs first started showing up in my head."

"Designs?"

She nodded. "How to make them—the Rings, and the weapons, and the armor," she said. "I thought I was hallucinating, or losing my mind. Apparently that happens to a lot of tinkers."

"They lose their minds?" he asked, startled.

She laughed. "No, they think they are," she said. "When the designs start coming. It's… I can't really describe it. It's like something half-remembered, out of a dream, or another life. But"—she gestured with her left hand, and for a moment he thought he saw the red star on her finger again—"they're real. They're not a dream. I think that's why I started with the Three—they seemed so fantastical, so magical, that if they were real, it all had to be."

"You mentioned the Three before," he said. "The Three what?"

"The Three Rings of Power," Taylor said. "Sorry, I've just started calling them 'the Three' in my head. They're three of twen—of nineteen. They're the only ones I've made so far."

Nineteen, or twenty? Danny wanted to ask, but the look on Taylor's face convinced him not to. Instead, he took a bite of bacon and chewed slowly. Once he'd swallowed, he asked, "So, what's the plan for today?"

Taylor's face seemed to set slightly in determination. "Right," she said. "We need to get my armor into the car—preferably soon, before people really start to wake up—and we should cover it up with a tarp. Aeglos, too."

"Aeglos?"

"My spear," she said. "It means 'icicle' in Sindarin."

He blinked at her. "In what?"

She blinked twice. "Uh," she said. "Never mind. Like I said: something out of a dream."

He frowned at her. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She chuckled. "I'm feeling fine," she said. "Maybe I'm starting to pick up a couple of languages that don't exist, but hey. Some capes have worse side effects. Look at Case-53s."

He grimaced. "Fair enough," he said. "Yeah, we should probably load your stuff soon."

She nodded and stood. He suddenly realized that, through their whole conversation, she'd been eating quickly and had already finished. "I'll start bringing stuff downstairs," she said. "You finish up. Protectorate doesn't open until 7:30, and we should call ahead anyway, so there's no rush except to get my stuff squared away before someone sees."

He nodded, and she left, bounding upstairs with infectious energy.

He looked after her for a moment, and then tucked back into his food. As he ate, he thought about his wife.

Annette, he thought, what would you do about this, I wonder? You always knew what to do better than I did.

He couldn't help but imagine that Annette would have known just how to help Taylor through Emma's betrayal, her trigger, her powers. Annette had been a natural mother, as though born to it. He just wasn't that. He'd never been that.

Looking back, how many of their fights were because he'd felt ashamed of not being a better father to Taylor? How many could have been avoided if he'd just gotten over himself?

If he'd been a better man, would that horrible, horrible day have gone differently?

"It's okay," Taylor murmured from behind him. He started, and looked over his shoulder. She was smiling slightly over the pile of armor in her arms. "It's okay," she repeated. "Today's going to be a good day. Tomorrow will be better."

Taylor seemed almost to glow, as if peering in as a ray of sunlight through a parting in the clouds. Despair fell away, shame receded, and all that was left was…

"Hope," she said lightly. "My favorite of Narya's powers."

"What is this?" he asked, and his voice was awed.

"Hope," she said simply.

"That's it?"

"That's it," she chuckled. "It's wonderful, isn't it?"

He laughed, and his voice was raw. "It really is," he said. "You shouldn't have to be my therapist."

She grinned. "I'm the one with powers," she said, turning and starting to walk out the door, her armor clinking in her arms. "Can you go downstairs and grab a tarp?"

"Yeah," he said, standing and taking up his empty plate. "Be right back." And as he set his empty plate in the sink, he smiled.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

"Hello, this is the PRT information line; how may I help you?" It was rapidly becoming clear that the PRT put a lot into training its responders. Also, I was spending too much of my time talking to them.

"Hi," I said, drumming my fingers idly on the table as Dad watched me from across it. "I'm Annatar. I want to talk about joining the Wards."

"Oh!" The responder sounded excited, and I didn't blame her. I doubted calls like this came in often. "Well, I'll let Director Piggot know immediately. Procedure for a new parahuman joining the Wards is to have a minimum of one in-person interview either here at PRT HQ, or on the Rig at Protectorate HQ. When can you have that meeting?"

"Today, if possible," I said. "Any time works."

"Are you not in school?"

"I took the day off for this," I said. "My dad gave permission."

"So, he knows about your identity?" the responder asked rhetorically. "That's good—we require parental permission to accept a parahuman into the Wards, in most cases."

"I figured," I told her. "Can the Director meet me today?"

"I've already sent her a message," the responder said. "If you'd like, I can call you back—oh, wait, I've got a response. Yes, she can meet you. She's at the Rig for most of the morning—if you can meet there, then how does 9 AM sound?"

An hour and a half from now. "That sounds fine," I said. "I'll be there. Should I bring my dad? And should I come in costume?"

"Ideally, you and your guardian should come separately," the responder replied promptly. "You in costume, and your guardian in his or her civilian identity. We can pair you together once you're here. This minimizes the number of people to whom you unmask."

"I can't drive," I said. "How will I get to the Rig without a ride?"

"We can send a PRT transport to pick you up if you like."

"That'll work. So, we'll set up a pickup of some kind, and then my Dad and I will make our separate ways to the Rig?"

"That's the idea. Does that sound acceptable?"

"Yeah," I said, decidedly. "Yeah, that sounds fine. Can you pick me up at..." I bit my lip. "The Westbridge shopping center in the south part of the Docks?"

"Of course. Can you be there by 8:45?"

"Definitely.

"Great!" the responder chirped. "I'll get things set up on our end. Tell your guardian, when he arrives at the Rig, to wait for the receptionist to call ticket number 80-469. That's eighty, forty-six, nine."

"Eighty, forty-six, nine. Got it. Thanks."

"No problem!" she said happily. "Good luck on your admission to the Wards, Annatar! I'm Kylie, and I'm looking forward to working with you!"

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Looking forward to it." I hung up and glanced up at Dad. "So," I summarized, "I need to meet a PRT patrol at the Westbridge Mall in a little over an hour, while you get the the Rig your own way. Just wait in the lobby until they call ticket 80-469, or until I come out. Okay?"

"All right," Dad said. "I guess they're taking this secret identity thing pretty seriously?"

"Seems like it." I stood up, stretched. "I can probably jog to the mall from here, and I can find a place to change there. I should head out soon, though."

-x-x-x-

The PRT troopers were extremely professional when they picked me up, which is basically code for "they were shitty conversationalists." After trying to make small talk for all of thirty seconds, I settled into the back of the patrol van and watched the streets go by.

I expected us to approach the North Ferry, but instead we approached a pier near the middle of the Docks. I could see the Rig in the distance, shrouded in mist and smog, directly ahead of us. The van slowed as it moved along the pier until it eventually came to a halt beside a small booth right at the end of the roadway. I noticed that the road seemed to continue straight into the water, although a small liftable divider like the gates of a parking structure completed the barrier which was elsewhere formed by wood and chain.

The guy in the passenger seat of the van got out and entered that little booth. For a moment, he fiddled with a console in there, and the divider rose slowly. That was all that happened, for a short while, until suddenly a faint blue shimmer appeared in the space where the road ought to continue out over the sea. The shimmering grew stronger until it was almost translucent, and the guy got back in the van.

The Rig had a force-field roadway. That was so hilariously sci-fi I'd never even considered it. I guess an organization with that many tinkers on its payroll could do that sort of thing.

We approached the headquarters of Protectorate ENE Headquarters, set on an offshore platform, by car. As it grew, I leaned forward slightly and craned my neck to see around the PRT guys and try to examine the superstructure.

The Rig was a veritable fortress, on a level I'd only peripherally imagined. The force-field roadway and barrier were just the start: tinkertech turrets, air superiority vehicles, and probably a whole lot more that I couldn't see.

Honestly, I was a little jealous. I wanted a big impenetrable fortress, too!

-x-x-x-

The guy behind the front desk was talking to an armored PRT trooper, but he turned to me as we approached. "Hello," he said. "Who might you be, and how can I help you?"

"Hi," I said. "I'm Annatar, here to discuss joining the Wards with the PRT director."

He nodded, his blank smile unchanging. "Right," he said. "I'll tell the director you've arrived. You should have someone here to escort you in just a couple of minutes."

"Thank you," I said politely. "I'll wait here."

Dad wasn't in the lobby yet. That was probably a good thing—I didn't want to be tempted to approach him and blow my cover. As such, I just found a chair near the door and sat down, crossing my left leg over my right and resting my chin in the palm of my left hand. Narya was warm against my cheek. I allowed my eyes to drift shut and simply rested like that, for a time, Aeglos leaning against my thigh upright.

"Annatar?"

I looked up.

"Dauntless?" I asked, in surprise. I'd expected them to send an aide or some such. Apparently I warranted a more notable escort.

I thought the man smiled under his helmet. "That's me," he said. "Please follow me."

I stood up and followed the man out of the lobby down a side corridor. As soon as the automatic door slid shut behind us, he turned to me.

"Okay, Annatar," he said, "before we continue, I've got to tell you a couple things."

"All right," I said, slightly stiff. The sudden shift set me a bit on edge.

He grinned under his helmet—I could tell because the fabric that covered his mouth shifted. "Nothing bad, don't worry," he said. "First, because you're a known master, the base was put into level 0 M/S—that's master/stranger, by the way—lockdown the moment we got confirmation you'd walked in. You understand?"

I nodded. Of course, I knew that I couldn't master anyone right now, without Vilya, but they didn't. Nor did they need to.

"Second," he said, "You'll be staying masked until you're pretty confident you want to join the Wards. It's only at that point that your ticket will be called out front and your guardian will be brought in to join you. That shouldn't take more than about half an hour, but it might take longer if you have a lot of questions. Not that there's anything wrong with having questions!" he added hastily. "I just have to let you know how things are going to go."

"I understand," I said. "I appreciate the measures to maintain my privacy."

He chuckled. "We've all been there," he said. "Two identities are hard to keep track of as it is—no need to make it harder on our Wards. The important thing is that you're free to walk out at any time, right up until you decide to join up and no one can reveal your identity. You understand?"

"I do."

"Great." He clapped his hands. "Now, do you have any questions for me, before we go in to meet the director?"

"One," I said. "I've noticed a lot of security surrounding my identity, but not as much surrounding the director. Isn't it a bit dangerous to let me in to meet her without further security? What if a cape used the admissions procedure to get a shot at the PRT director?"

Dauntless raised an eyebrow at me. "Careful asking questions like that, Annatar," he said lightly. "Wouldn't want us getting suspicious. To answer your question, though, the office you'll be meeting her in is on a hair-trigger to flood with containment foam if you make a threatening move, and Armsmaster will be present for the interview, with at least a couple of other people watching remotely. Obviously it's not safe, because this is capes we're talking about, but it's not exactly a prime shot at the director either."

"Fair enough," I said. "Oh, uh, I'm not planning to assassinate the Director. Just in case you were wondering."

He laughed. "I wasn't," he said, "but thanks for letting me know. If there's nothing else, Director Piggot's office is this way."

-x-x-x-

Director Piggot was a large woman. That was what struck me first. It wasn't that I was unaccustomed to seeing people who were overweight, or even that she was all that fat—I'd known plenty of much heavier people—it was that this was the woman in charge of the local branch of a sanctioned paramilitary outfit.

Her hair was bleached blonde, and her skin was an unhealthy pale. Then I met her eyes—as hard and grey as steel.

Suddenly, her position made a great deal more sense.

"Annatar," she said. Armsmaster gave me a nod from behind her. "Come in, sit down. Leave the spear outside, if you please."

I set Aeglos down against the outer wall and glanced at the PRT trooper standing at attention there. "Don't touch it," I advised him. "It's sharp."

He nodded once, crisply and wordlessly.

I stepped past him into the room and shut the door behind me. "Director Piggot," I said with a nod. "Armsmaster."

"Good to finally meet you," Piggot said shortly as I approached her desk and sat across from her. "it's not often I get reports from two separate Protectorate capes in as many nights about an independent hero no one's heard of before then. It's almost as rare as parahumans as powerful as Lung getting captured."

I didn't answer. I merely watched her, waiting to see where she was headed.

"I'm told you want to join the Wards," she said, her eyes boring into mine. "Is that accurate?"

"It is."

"Good," said Piggot, "but it's not that simple. Why do you want to join the Wards?"

I took a deep breath. "Short answer, I want to be a hero."

"And the long answer?"

"I need a team," I said simply. "I need a team of people who I can trust to have my back, because my powers are made for group work. I didn't want to be a villain, New Wave is a family team, and none of the other independent heroes in this city have enough members or real viability to give me what I need."

"So we're your last resort?" Piggot's voice was a little hard now.

I snorted. "Technically you were my first resort, since I haven't approached anyone else yet," I said. "But if you're asking whether I buy into all your rose-tinted PR materials and advertisements, the answer is no."

"Care to explain why? What don't you like about us?"

I bit my lip. "I've had… bad experiences with adults who were supposed to be in charge of me," I said. "Organizations responsible for me. I don't trust them, as a rule."

"What kind of bad experiences?"

"My trigger event, for one."

A moment of silence.

"Could you please explain?" Armsmaster spoke for the first time. His voice was a touch frosty. I wondered whether he was angry at me for making the comparison, or angry on my behalf. Solidarity among heroes, or some such?

I grimaced. "I'd rather do it after we decided whether I was joining up," I said. "It would… probably unmask me." The locker hadn't exactly been all over the news, but it hadn't been totally hushed up, either, and I was sure there weren't a lot of other instances of girls getting shoved into their school lockers in the past few years, let alone the past several months, and if anyone could track my story to its source, it would be the PRT.

"Fair enough," said Piggot, giving Armsmaster a hard look. I wondered if she was upset over his intrusion into the interview. "Now, you told Armsmaster you were a master on Sunday night. Can you explain you master powers?"

"The first thing you need to know about my powers," I said, "is that they're modular. I can't use more than one… set of powers at a time, and I can't switch in the field. Not without setting something up that I haven't done yet." A pouch to hold my Rings might have worked, but it might also have been an easy target, and the idea of Lung getting his hands on a Ring of Power because I'd been careless and it fell off my belt sent a chill down my spine. "I can, however, give my modules to my allies. Or I should be able to—I haven't tried yet. And I don't want to until I really trust someone—personally. They're not small powers." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "So, uh, if as part of my contract I'll be expected to hand those out to people whenever I'm ordered to, that's going to be a dealbreaker."

"The contract is negotiable," Piggot said. "We'll get to that later. One of your… modules… contains the master power you used?"

I nodded. "By the way, did you recover the guy?"

"We did not, unfortunately," Piggot said shortly. "We believe the ABB retrieved him."

I grimaced. "Damn. I told him he'd be released if they got him, too, but I hope he doesn't get too badly hurt over this."

"Can you give us any details about how your master ability works?"

I nodded. "I can… dominate weak wills," I said. "I basically put myself into a contest of wills with my target. I doubt I'd be able to master either of you, but an ABB gangbanger who's gotten used to just obeying Lung and never thinking for himself was easy pickings."

"We'll decide on what rating to give that later," Piggot said. "is that all that module can do?"

"Not even close," I said through a huffed laugh. "Elemental control—pyrokinetics, aerokinetics, that kind of thing—minor precognition… probably a couple other things I haven't tested. The Ri—the modules' powers come to me when I need them, and I already kind of know how to use them."

"Is that the module you're using now?"

"No," I said. "Right now I'm using one which gives me and my allies protection from master abilities and from despair, as well as enhancing my strength and giving me a sort of inverse-stranger power that demands respect."

Piggot exhaled a long breath. "So what you're saying," she said slowly, "is that you've been using a master power on both me and Armsmaster this whole time?"

I blinked. "What?" I asked blankly. Then I thought about it. "Oh, hell."

Piggot considered me coldly. "Can you disable the module in some way?"

I grimaced. "Can I have access to an enclosed space? Away from any recording devices?"

"You may." Piggot nodded at a side door. "You can use my office restroom. Come out when your master power is inactive."

I nodded and stood. I crossed over to the restroom and slipped inside, shutting the door behind me. After quickly casting my eyes around to see if there were any obvious cameras, I slipped off one of my thighplates and took Narya off my finger. Ignoring the sense of diminishing, I shoved the Ring of Power in my pocket, clipped my armor back on, and returned to the interview.

"You're no longer using a master power?" Piggot asked as soon as I entered.

"Yes," I confirmed as I crossed the room. Then I hesitated. "Um, that is, yes, I'm no longer using a master power."

"Good. Please sit back down. How many of these modules do you have?"

"Three," I said as I sat. "But I can add more. I've got plans for twen--nineteen in my head. Sixteen more."

"Nineteen?" Armsmaster asked, his voice slightly sharp.

"Twenty, then." I grimaced. "I don't like the last one."

"Plans, you said?" Piggot asked. "Are you a tinker, then?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like I said, I can theoretically give my modules out to other people. That's because they're made with my tinker ability."

"Tinker 8," said Armsmaster flatly. "At minimum."

"High tinker, at the least," Piggot agreed. "Well. You certainly aren't a minor player, are you?"

"On my own?" I asked. "I'm just another fairly strong cape. With a team? I can be a massive boost. I want to use that to help the heroes."

"And that's good," Piggot said. "You'll have to run through intensive vetting, obviously, but that can be done after we sign you up as a trial Ward."

"Intensive vetting?" I asked.

"Master/stranger screening, non-disclosure agreements, and a more security-oriented interview with Armsmaster," Piggot explained. "But for now, if you're still willing, we'd be happy to accept you into the Wards program as a trial member."

"I am. Trial member?"

Piggot nodded. "You'll be allowed to be a member of the Wards for a trial period of one week, during which we'll allow you to take part in all Wards activities, before you actually have to sign the contract. We'll give you the contract immediately, so you can look it over in the meantime. You'll also have to sign an NDA regarding the other Wards' secret identities."

"I didn't know that trial period existed," I said, surprised. "Why isn't it more public?"

Piggot smiled wryly. "Several reasons, the most pressing of which is that it's recent. It was only put into place by Chief Director Costa-Brown a few weeks ago."

"Fair enough," I said. "Do I still have to unmask to you?"

Piggot nodded. "We can't get you in the system otherwise," she said. "You're willing?"

"Yes."

"Good. Armsmaster, please tell Corporal Mines outside to contact the front desk and send in Annatar's guardian."

Armsmaster nodded came around the desk, and opened the door behind me. I bit my lip and then forced out a question. "Director, while we wait for my dad, could I... put my module back on?"

Piggot considered me suspiciously. "Why do you want it?" she asked.

"I feel more comfortable with it," I said frankly. "I feel... weaker without it. I promise not to use my master power if I can help it."

She sighed. "Fine. You can use my restroom again."

-x-x-x-

Dad arrived about ten minutes after that, during which time I'd glanced over and signed the NDA. It was exactly what they said--a document affirming that the signatory would not reveal the identities of any Wards who unmasked to them except is the event of a criminal investigation into a Ward's behavior. It had actually no strings attached and no fine print--I assumed they saved that for the contract itself. "Hey, kiddo," he said. "You doing okay?"

"Fine," I said gently. "Don't worry about me. Nothing worse than I expected."

"Please sir, sit down," Piggot said.

Dad approached. Armsmaster shut the door behind him and came around to his old position behind the Director.

"Now, Annatar," Piggot said. "If you're ready?"

I nodded, brought both hands up to my temples, and pulled off the helmet. "Hi," I said, smiling slightly self-consciously. "I'm Taylor Hebert."

"Danny Hebert," my dad introduced.

Piggot nodded. "Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE," she said formally. "Now… Taylor. You said something about your trigger event being caused by authority figures?"

I grimaced. "Not caused, exactly," I said. "They just let it happen and let the bitches responsible get off scot free."

Dad put his hand on mine. I took it in my fingers and squeezed.

"You don't mind if I tell you now?" I asked. "I'll be honest, I was hoping you could help me if I joined up."

Piggot shrugged. "I can't make any promises," she said. "But if you want to tell us, I'll be able to tell you what we can do."

"Right," I said, and took a deep breath. "Okay. I go to Winslow High, and I've been getting bullied there."

"Bullied," Dad said grimly, "really doesn't cover it."

"The locker incident," Armsmaster put in. "Yes? We had that flagged as a potential trigger event."

I nodded. "I was hoping you could transfer me to Arcadia," I confessed. "I heard the Wards mostly go there."

"That can probably be arranged," Piggot agreed.

I sighed. "Oh, thank God."

"Armsmaster," Piggot said, looking over at the hero. "This 'locker incident'—I admit I've forgotten the details."

"I'll brief you later," Armsmaster said evenly. "I'd rather not talk in depth about a probable Ward's trigger event while she's in the room."

"Do you think you could help us press charges?" Dad asked. "The school wouldn't even hear a word of punishing the people who did it—said it was Taylor's word against theirs, and no one came forward with witnesses."

"Unlikely," Piggot said. "We don't have any direct jurisdiction there, or over anyone who's not a parahuman."

"It's fine, Dad, honestly," I said. "I don't…. If I can just get away from Madison, Sophia, and Emma, I'll be fine."

"I know, kiddo," Dad said quietly, looking at me. "It's just… it really isn't fair."

I snorted. "Life isn't."

"No," Piggot said, and there was something dark in her voice. "No, it really isn't. What were those names again?"

I glanced at her. Her face, which had been fairly set throughout the whole conversation, had darkened into an ugly scowl. I thought about asking why she wanted to know, but decided that any authority figure who seemed remotely interested probably wasn't a bad thing.

"Emma Barnes, Sophia Hess, and Madison Clements," I said.

In the ensuing silence, I saw Armsmaster's gauntleted fist clench.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Sophia stalked past the PRT mook behind the desk, her gloved hands fiddling with her mask's straps. It was just after lunchtime, and she'd gotten the call from the PRT that the Wards were being called in.

Probably an assembly or some shit, she grumbled. An announcement, maybe. Still, she was honestly glad to get away from Emma for the rest of the day. The girl had been insufferable since Friday.

It wasn't that she'd changed. It was that she hadn't. Was she really that stupid? Did she really think antagonizing the Hebert girl was a good idea, now?

Sophia knew what happened when you pushed a new cape too far. It wasn't that she was scared of Hebert—obviously—but if there was any class of people that epitomized the ideal of predator it was the parahuman. It paid to be cautious when dealing with them. Not every parahuman was strong any more than every normal was weak--and Emma put paid to that notion--but there was something that set capes apart.

They'd all triggered. They'd all survived. That meant something. What, exactly, varied from cape to cape. But, just like Emma had survived the alley, every cape had in some way lived through something bad.

She'd been relieved when Hebert hadn't shown up to school today, at least at first: hopefully, she could talk some sense into Emma before it got to be a problem. But there hadn't been a chance before lunch, and now she was stuck here.

I'll call her tonight, Sophia decided. Tell her we need to back off. At least until Hebert joins a villain group, and I can go after her properly.

It was part of what rankled so much when the Wards got rid of her lethal ammo. Yeah, sure, she could take your average ganger or mugger with tranqs, but how the fuck did they expect her to deal with someone like Lung without proper weapons? The enemy wasn't holding back. As long as the other 'heroes' did, it was only going to cripple them, and get them killed.

Especially if people like Grue were allowed to run around and interfere with the heroes' powers. If Sophia couldn't trust her weapons or her powers, well, that was a really bad situation all around, and now—thanks to the PRT's bullshit—it was the situation she was in every damn day out there.

She found that she was clenching her fists. She forced herself to relax. It wouldn't do to get Piggy on her case before even walking into the room.

She ran into Aegis just as she was reaching the elevator to go down the Wards' section of the base. "Shadow Stalker," he greeted politely. "You got any idea why we're here?"

She shook her head. "No," she said flatly. "Hope it's not a waste of time."

The elevator door opened. She almost wished he'd tried to enter first so she could shove past him, but he didn't, so she had to settle for going in first and watching him follow.

He was watching her. "The PRT doesn't waste our time all that often," he said. "Think it might be a new Ward?"

Sophia grunted. "Maybe," she said. "Doesn't happen often."

"Yeah," agreed Aegis, "but nor does this. They usually only pull all of us out for emergencies. Now we're suddenly all getting called into HQ during school?"

Sophia shrugged. "They didn't call everyone in when I was recruited," she said.

"Yeah, but your recruitment was… an unusual case," said Aegis, avoiding the issue like the pussy he was.

Sophia rolled her eyes and said nothing.

The elevator opened. Sophia exited first and looked around. Vista was already there—she looked up when Sophia and Aegis came in. "Hey, Carlos, Shadow Stalker," she called. "Seen any of the others yet?"

Sophia just grunted.

"No," Aegis said, passing Sophia and approaching the younger girl. "Do you know what this is about?"

Vista shook her head. "Armsmaster was in here earlier," she said. "Told me we'd talk about it when everyone was here. He seemed… grim."

"More than usual?" Sophia asked flippantly, throwing herself down onto a couch.

"Yes," Vista said shortly.

The elevator on the other side of the room, leading from the south side of the base, opened, and in stepped three more of the Wards—Gallant, Clockblocker, and Browbeat.

"Dean!" Vista called, waving. "Dennis, Sam, hey."

"Hey, Missy," Gallant said, raising a hand in greeting. "Carlos, Shadow Stalker."

Sophia grunted, rolling her eyes at Vista's pathetic display. "Where's Kid Win?" she asked.

"On his way," Clockblocker said. "Carlos, you know what's happening?"

Aegis shook his head. "Missy said Armsmaster was waiting until we all got here to tell us."

"Well," Sophia said dryly, "he'd better get here soon. This is a waste of time."

"Nice to see you too, Stalker," said Vista caustically. "How have you been? Meet any cute boys lately?"

Sophia swung her legs up onto the couch so she was laying back on it, and brought her hand up, middle finger raised at Vista, in the same motion. "Fuck you," she said succinctly. "Oh, wait, sorry, would that be pedophilia?"

"Enough," Aegis said, and there was an edge to his voice. "Missy, don't antagonize her. Stalker, there's no need for that."

Sophia shifted her hand so her finger was facing her so-called 'leader' before lowering it.

The south elevator opened again, and in rushed Kid Win, still adjusting his visor. "Sorry I'm late, guys," he apologized. "Had to make a stop at home on the way."

"Nah, it's fine," Sophia drawled. "Feel free to waste our time whenever you want."

"Can it, Stalker," Aegis said flatly. "Chris, it's no big deal. Missy, did Armsmaster say to get him when we all got here?"

Vista shook her head. "He just said he'd be here."

A door to one of the quiet rooms on the side of the area opened, and in walked Armsmaster. "So I did," he said. "Thank you, Vista, for not telling them."

Wait, he was there the whole time? Sophia blinked, then glared. And the little bitch didn't tell us? Fuck her. I don't think I said anything too bad.

Vista gave him a thumbs-up. "So, what's this about, boss?" she asked.

Armsmaster walked across the room and came to a halt right in front of Sophia. "Shadow Stalker," he said, and there was something in his voice that set Sophia's teeth on edge. "You will go into that room, alone, and shut the door behind you. There's someone in there to talk to you. I'll debrief your teammates."

Sophia grimaced. "What'd I do this time?" she asked gruffly, sitting up.

Armsmaster shook his head. "No, we're not having that conversation," he said flatly. "In the room. Now."

Sophia snarled, stood up, and pushed past him, crossing the lobby and entering the side room.

There was someone sitting at the table. A girl, in silvery armor that seemed to glow. She was white, and her brown eyes were locked onto Sophia's mask the moment she walked in.

"Close the door, please," she said, and there was something about her voice that made Sophia want to grind her teeth.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Annatar," said the girl. "Close the door, now. You and I need to talk."

"Close the door, Shadow Stalker," Armsmaster ordered from behind her.

Sophia let out a growl, but obeyed, then threw herself into a chair across from Annatar. "So, what?" she asked. "You're a new Ward?"

Annatar nodded. "That's the certain part," she said. "The uncertain part is what happens to you now."

Sophia's fists clenched. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean," Annatar said, and she was perfectly calm, "that if I choose, after this conversation, I can have you summarily drummed out of the Wards, taken off the streets, and shoved into juvie at the least. So let's talk."

Sophia stood up sharply. "You think you can threaten me?" she snarled.

"I just got classified," Annatar said quietly. "Tinker 7, Trump 6. A few other ratings. I'm a valuable cape, Shadow Stalker, and the PRT wants me in the Wards a lot more than they want you."

"Well, what the hell does that have to do with anything?" Sophia demanded. "Why would they just kick me out? I haven't done anything!"

Annatar let out a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, you are funny," she said. Then she reached up and took off her helmet.

Sophia's world tilted on its axis.

Taylor Hebert shook out her hair and set her helmet on the desk. "Sit down, Sophia," she said smoothly, "and let's talk."

"No." Sophia barely heard the word coming out of her own mouth.

"It's in your interest," Taylor said. "If you walk out now, there's no hope for you."

"No. No way. You? A Ward? A hero?"

Taylor snorted. "I said the same thing when I found out, you know?" she chuckled. "You? The girl so vicious and vile she thought shoving a classmate into her locker with a literal biohazard was an innocent prank? But them's the breaks, I'm afraid."

"No," Sophia said, and some quiet corner of her brain registered that her voice was getting a little shrill. "No, fuck this. I'm not going to work with you."

"Is that your final answer?"

There was something about how Hebert said that that made Sophia stop.

"Because, believe me," Taylor said evenly, "I would love to have you walk out that door right now and be unceremoniously arrested and kicked out on your ass. That would be wonderful. I owe you for a hell of a lot of shit, Sophia. But there's an alternative. Sit down."

Sophia sat. She found, in a horrible moment, that she had no idea what to say.

Taylor folder her hands together. "Now, Sophia," she said, and her voice was like silk—smooth and almost alluring. "What do you desire?"

"What?"

"Do you know what Annatar means?"

Sophia blinked at the non-sequitur. "It sounds made-up."

"It's Quenya." Taylor chuckled. "Don't ask. It means 'Lord of Gifts.' So let's talk, and we'll see if I can find it in me to give you a gift."

Sophia twitched. "What are you on about, Hebert?" she asked warily.

Hebert smiled. "Take off your mask," she instructed. "I want to see your face."

"Why?"

"Just do it," Taylor said wearily. "It's not as though I don't already know who you are."

Sophia snarled, but obeyed. The two girls' eyes locked.

"Now, Sophia," said Taylor. "Answer me honestly. What did you enjoy about what you were doing to me?"

Sophia bared her teeth. "Fuck you," she said. "You don't get to psychoanalyze me."

"So you don't know?"

"Fuck you."

Taylor sighed. "Let me make something clear to you," she said. "I'm trying to help you. God knows why. But I know this city needs heroes. If you're willing to work with me, I'm willing to work with you in the name of making sure it gets them. But I've already compromised as much as I'm willing—I'm willing to refrain from pressing charges, I'm willing to let you stay, even though you've made my life hell for a year and a half. I've already accommodated more than my fair share. This conversation? This is you meeting me halfway, and the only person who loses if you don't is you."

Sophia gritted her teeth.

"Now answer the question," Taylor said. "What did you enjoy about torturing me?"

"I'm a predator, bitch," Sophia snarled. "Preying on the weak is what I do. The weak, the stupid, people who don't fight back. People like you."

Taylor smiled. "I see," she said. A chill went through Sophia's core at her tone.

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, I'm straight. Try Emma. Now, why me?"

"What?" Sophia blinked at the lightning-fast retort.

"There must have been a few hundred 'weak' people in Winslow," Taylor said. "Madison, for instance. Why was I the one you targeted?"

Sophia rolled her eyes. "What is this, a pity party?"

Taylor snorted. "Do you really think I give a damn what you think about me anymore?" she asked dryly. "I'm trying to understand you. Trying to see how we can work together. So answer the question."

"You were holding Emma back," Sophia said, sneering. "Girl was just getting a spine after that mess two summers ago, and then you came back and you were weak as shit. So I tried to buck her up, get her to toss you." She grimaced. "Then she got obsessive. Which was, honestly, kinda weird."

"I'm going to need some background," Taylor said evenly. "What happened two summers ago?"

Sophia sighed. "Look, I don't have all day—"

"Pretty sure you do, actually," said Taylor in a voice about fifty times drier than sandpaper. "What happened?"

"She and her dad got attacked by ABB gangers," Sophia said flatly. "They blocked the road with a dumpster, then pulled Emma out of the car. I saw it happen. At first, I was going to let them rough her up a bit so I could really cut loose on them—justifiable assault, you know?"

Taylor blinked evenly at her. "But?"

"Well, Emma got a spine," Sophia said, a grin coming to her lips at the memory. "She tried to claw the guy's eyes out. Sure, she wasn't a match for them, but at least she was trying. She was predator material. I saved her, and took her under my wing. Tried to teach her how the world works."

"And that was this idea of predators and prey?"

"What, you don't think it works like that?" Sophia snorted. "The strong eat the weak. That's nature, that's life. Humans—and capes—are no different."

Taylor seemed to consider that. "And then Emma seemed to have a weak spot for me," she said. "So you cauterized it. And she learned to love the hot iron. Like a slave begging for the whip."

"The fuck?" Sophia blanched. "Where did you come up with that shit?"

Taylor smiled slightly. "Oh, don't mind me," she said. "Now, Sophia, what do you think is the difference between a hero and a villain?"

Sophia snorted. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"One you've got no answer to, I think."

Silence fell. Sophia's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and then she settled for a weak "You don't know me."

"Don't I?"

Sophia couldn't answer. Eventually, she forced out, "What are you, a Thinker?"

"Maybe," Taylor allowed. "I don't think these are my powers though. This is all me." Then she smiled. "Now, Sophia, would you like to know the difference between a hero and a villain?"

"Fuck you," Sophia ground out. "Heroes stop villains from breaking the law. That's all there is to it."

"You and I both know that's not true."

Sophia gritted her teeth.

"Before we talk about the difference between heroes and villains," Taylor said, "we need to talk about a common misconception—the Protectorate, and the Wards, are all heroes, and everyone that's labeled a villain is a villain. Neither of those statements is true. The only thing that determines labels is PR. You were labeled an independent hero because you got decent PR for targeting villains, before you joined the Wards, but you were a villain."

"Fuck you. No I wasn't."

"You were," Taylor said gently, "and you still are, Sophia. This is your last and only chance to change that—listening to me here and now. Because I can tell you what makes someone like, I don't know, Panacea a hero, and what makes someone like Jack Slash a villain, regardless of the labels people give them. I'm your only chance at this before you get thrown into juvie. If you listen, you can stay out of there, and get one last chance to be better. If you don't, well, that's one more villain off the streets. It's your choice."

When Taylor put it like that, it wasn't much of a choice at all. "Fine, talk."

"A villain," Taylor said quietly, "is anyone—anyone at all, cape or otherwise—who thinks that the strong should prey on the weak, and that they are among the strong."

"Fuck you." That's me.

"A hero," Taylor steamrolled over her, "is someone among the strong who protects the weak. Being a hero isn't about beating up bad guys, Sophia. It's about making the world better. Not for you, not for the strong, not for the 'predators,' but for the weak. A hero is the voice of the voiceless, the song of the mute, the sword of the disarmed, the shield of the defenseless. That, Sophia, is what a hero is. That's why you're a villain—to you, it's all about conflict, about hurting people, about making the world worse, even if it is worse specifically for people you think are bad."

"That's bull." The words sounded somehow hollow even as they came out of her mouth.

"Do you have any better definitions?"

Sophia would have liked to say that the words stuck in her throat, but it would be a lie—there were no words at all. Somehow, under Taylor's eyes, pinned by the fire behind them, she couldn't lie; not to Taylor, and not to herself.

"That, Sophia, is my gift," Taylor said quietly. "I offer you that understanding, and this chance. You'll probably get out of juvie well before you're eighteen, if you want to. Then you'll be out on the street, a fugitive with powers. A villain. Or you can stay here. Deal with me. And try to be a hero. And I do mean try," she added with a twisted smile. "No one's expecting you to break years of habit in a day. But you do have to at least try to do better."

"So that's it?" Sophia asked. "Hero or villain? That's it? Just like that?"

"It's the same choice every parahuman makes," Taylor said. "Regardless of all the PR, and the mislabeling, and the speculation on PHO, each of us has to decide whether we want to take advantage of the people weaker than us, or protect them. We decide that right at the beginning. Sometimes, we change our minds. You made the wrong choice once, Sophia. Will you do it again?"

"Fuck you."

"You don't have to like me," Taylor chuckled. "I know I'll probably never like you. But you do have to choose."

And Sophia did.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Immediately following Glimmer 1.6

"Director," Armsmaster said crisply, "A word, if you please?"

Piggot glanced at him, then back at me. "Annatar," she said slowly, "if you and your father could please step outside?"

I considered her. "You know something," I said. "Sophia's a cape, isn't she? I could tell."

Piggot considered me, her eyes hooded, her face perfectly blank. "Do you have a power that allows you to tell capes from non-capes?" she asked evenly.

"Not exactly," I hedged. "I just… get a feeling for power, especially when it's arrayed against me. The entirety of Winslow is full of my enemies, but only Sophia pinged on that radar. Is she a Merchant? Or one of the minor groups? She can't be ABB or Empire."

"You know we can't unmask a cape to you," Armsmaster said slowly. "Villain or no. The director and I need to discuss this for a moment and decide what to do. I promise you, Annatar, we're on your side here, but some of this information is highly sensitive. Please step outside."

I shrugged. "Sure," I said. "Come on, Dad."

If they decide to cooperate, great. If not, well, I'll still go through this trial thing, but if they can't trust me, I can't work with them, and if they're not willing to stick their necks out a bit to help me out of Winslow, I'm not really willing to help them with all their PR bullshit.

I slipped my helmet on as I stood up and led my dad out of the room. Just as I opened the door, I glanced back around my shoulder.

"Just remember," I said. "I haven't signed anything yet. I don't have to sign anything yet."

They didn't answer, and I stepped out of the room, Dad following behind.

A cape shut the door behind us. I recognized him—Triumph, a recent graduate from the Wards. The shine of the gold paint on his shoulderpads didn't quite conceal the ordinary steel underneath.

"Annatar, right?" he asked.

I nodded, holding out a hand, which he shook. "That's right. And you're Triumph. Nice to meet you. You were Wards captain for the Bay for a while, right?"

"Yep," he confirmed. "You got any questions about it?"

I thought about that. "Well, I have some problems in my civilian identity," I said. "Things that have to do with my trigger. How likely do you think the PRT is to stick their necks out for me?"

He frowned. "I mean, it depends," he said. "They probably won't break any laws for you or anything, but if you just need, I dunno, a support network, they'll do what they can. I'm not exactly a policy maker, though; I don't know."

"Fair enough," I said. That was supremely unhelpful. "What if I happened into knowledge of a villain's civilian identity?"

He blinked at me from beneath his mask. "Oh. Hm. I don't know, actually. There's the unwritten rules, but it's a villain. I guess it'd depend on which villain. It's bad form to go after people in their secret identities, but if they're bad enough…"

"Annatar?" The door opened, and Armsmaster stood in the space. "Please, come in. We've come to a decision."

I nodded and followed him inside, Dad close behind me.

Piggot was still seated at the desk. She looked somehow diminished, weakened, tired. Clearly whatever decision was made was one she didn't fully like.

We returned to our places, like players returning to the stage following intermission. Armsmaster returned to Piggot's elbow, I sat across from her, and Dad sat at my side. I did not remove my helmet, instead resting my chin on my hand and studying the director from across her desk.

As Triumph shut the door behind us, I broke the silence. "Well?" I asked. "What have you decided to tell me?"

Piggot glanced at Armsmaster silently. The man sighed.

"Sophia Hess," he said slowly, "is a parahuman. You're quite right there."

I nodded. "I know. What else?"

Armsmaster's mouth twisted. "I want you to know," he said slowly, "that we had no idea any of this was going on. This was the result of a sequence of lapses in judgement and incompetent behavior on the parts of several people involved, and now that it's been brought to our attention we'll do our utmost to fix the situation."

My face froze. I stared into his featureless visor. "Explain," I ordered, unable to keep Narya from rushing to amplify my voice. "Now."

To his credit, he didn't flinch. "Sophia Hess is the civilian identity of the Ward Shadow Stalker," he said.

There was a crack as my fist came down on the desk. The desk broke, a hole punched into it as by an artillery shell. "No," I said, and my voice was shrill in spite of Narya. "No, you're fucking kidding me! That bitch is one of yours? That bitch is supposed to be a hero?"

" 'Supposed to be' is a very good way of putting it," said Piggot dryly.

"As I said," Armsmaster said evenly, "we had no idea any of this was going on—"

"How?" I thundered, standing sharply and staring into his visor. He was a tall man, especially in his armor, but I was almost as tall as he was, and with Narya enhancing and building me up I was practically dwarfing him in presence, if not in actual size. "How the fuck did you miss something like that? Do you not bother with any kind of oversight? When a girl got shoved into her locker at your Ward's school, did you not even bother to look?"

Armsmaster didn't back down in the slightest, even though I was battering him with Narya's overbearing will. "As far as we can tell," he said stiffly, "her handler totally failed to keep a proper watch on her, and the school's administration was too attached to the funding they got for being a Ward's school to hold her accountable for her behavior. In addition, Emma Barnes' father is the lawyer who first represented Sophia as a character witness when she was brought in for vigilantism so that we would offer her a plea bargain to join the Wards in lieu of juvenile hall; it is possible he… misrepresented the case to some or all of the people involved."

"Fucking Alan," Dad muttered.

That brought me back to earth. I sat down heavily, slouching slightly, curling inward. I was spent, exhausted. I could have drawn on Narya to uplift me, but I didn't want to use the Ring right now. I just wanted to be done here.

"What are you going to do now?" I asked, by voice soft and a little rough.

"Shadow Stalker will, of course, be removed from the Wards' active roster," Armsmaster said evenly. "Miss Hess will be removed from Winslow, and the PRT will find an excuse to launch an investigation into Winslow's administration. Shadow Stalker's handler will be drummed out of the force with a dishonorable discharge, and Miss Hess will quietly be consigned either to juvenile hall or possibly prison, depending on what our legal department thinks she can be charged with."

I nodded dully. "Great," I said. "Fine. You fucked up. Fix it."

"We will, Annatar," Piggot said firmly. "You have our assurances of that. Sophia Hess has done everything exactly wrong, has broken every law, rule, and oath in the Wards' contract, and she will be punished for it. If I have my say, she'll be tried as an adult for attempted murder in the first degree and criminal use of a parahuman power, at minimum, if even half of the report on the locker incident is true. She'll be looking at a prison sentence for at least several years."

She's just a child.

It would be months and years before I was able to truly understand what it was that put that thought in my head. Sophia Hess was a bully, a monster, a demon in human skin. She'd made it her mission to make my like hell for more than a year. She'd taken one of the highest academically achieving girls in middle school and systematically beaten her down until she was practically failing high school and couldn't find it in herself to give a damn. She'd come damn close to killing me—more than once.

More than that, she'd almost managed to get me to kill myself. More than once.

She's just a child.

She was a monster, but what I didn't understand was why. Children aren't born evil. Nothing is. What could have made Sophia into the monster she was? Had she even had a choice, any more than I had?

She'd triggered, same as I. It was so easy to see how, if I'd had any other power, if the Three weren't so wonderful and supportive and strong, I could have become a monster myself. I'd spent a week in a madhouse after my trigger because I'd been a gibbering wreck. I'd gotten better.

What if Sophia hadn't?

She's just a child.

"I need to understand," I said thickly.

"Pardon?" Armsmaster said.

I looked up at him. I had a feeling my eyes were red. They certainly itched. "I don't understand why she'd do this," I said quietly. "I need to. I want to talk to her. Face to face."

"I'm afraid that's against policy—" Armsmaster began.

I shook my head. "I won't hurt her," I said. "I don't… I want to understand. I want to hear, from her, why she did it. She's… she's just a kid. What could have happened to make a child into that?"

"She likely has some disorder," Piggot said flatly. "Psychopathy, perhaps. Parahumans aren't famous for being particularly stable."

"Because we fucking trigger," I said, glaring at her. "Because we go through days that are so bad that they color the rest of our lives! Because we get broken down into something less than human, and get rewarded for it with more than human power! You'd be fucked up too, Director Piggot, if you had to deal with what we do! If you had to use powers which, every damn day, reminded you of one of the worst moments in your life!"

I glared into the woman's eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. It took me a moment to catch my breath, after which I shook off my wrath, sighed, and looked back up at Armsmaster. "I don't really hate her anymore," I said, and it was honestly true. "I pity her, if anything. I don't know what fucked her up this badly, but… well, she was an independent hero even before she joined the Wards, right?"

"That's true," said Armsmaster cautiously. "She had a habit of being overly brutal, however."

I waved that away. "If all she wanted was to hurt people," I said quietly, "it would have been so much easier to do it as a villlain. That's what villains do. She chose to target criminals instead. Why?"

"I'd assume it's so that she'd get the good PR that comes with heroism," said Piggot caustically.

"Have you met her?" I asked roughly. "What exactly gave you the impression that she wants to be well liked? Was it the way she shoves people out of the way like they're dust in her path, or the way she talks to everyone like they're beneath her? No, Director, I can't help but think she set out to be a hero, and lost her way."

"You're serious," Armsmaster said. "You want to, what, give her another chance?"

"Sophia doesn't understand chances," I said. "I want to understand what makes her tick. I want to figure out where she fucked up. And if she sincerely wants to be a hero, then I want to teach her myself. I want to actually watch her properly, and hold her accountable, and give her a chance, not to shape up, but to be shaped. To be molded into the hero that I think she wants to be."

Piggot and Armsmaster looked at each other. "We'll have to discuss this," Piggot said.

"But we're outmanned in Brockton Bay," said Armsmaster thoughtfully. "There's no question that another hero on the roster would be a good thing, but only if you think you can actually make Shadow Stalker into a net positive."

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I need to talk to her."

"Well, we'll certainly consider it," said Armsmaster, looking back at me. "In the meantime, if you could follow Triumph to have your powers tested and rated, we'll consider your idea."

"Thank you," I said, standing up. "If you could just give me an interview room or something to talk to her, in private, for about half an hour… I can't promise we'll come to an agreement, but I'll try to make the offer. And I won't hurt her."

"We'll consider it," said Piggot flatly. "If you please?"

I left. Dad followed.

"Taylor," he said lowly, as Triumph led us down a corridor toward power testing, "I get that you want to be the better person here, but are you sure? It seems insane to want to give someone like her a second chance."

"Third chance," I corrected him. "And yes, I'm sure. She's a child, Dad. If she knows anything about right and wrong, it's because she's learned it; and she's not so old, yet, that she can't unlearn it. She's an asset, if nothing else, and I'd rather not waste it.

"Well, I'm really proud of you," he said with a wan smile. "I don't think—no, I know I couldn't do that. I'm just worried about you. I know you said you wouldn't hurt her, but don't let her hurt you, either."

"You don't have to worry about that," I chuckled. "I'll be perfectly safe."

-x-x-x-

"Why would they kick me out?" Shadow Stalker snarled. "I haven't done anything!"

Narya sang in my veins, allowing me to look my tormentor in the eye unblinking, and overpower her very presence with my own. I chuckled. "Oh, you are funny," I said, and took off my helmet.

I saw the slight tilt of her head, saw her reel, saw her try to reconcile the world of two seconds ago with the world of now, and fail. I knew exactly how she felt.

"Sit down, Sophia," I said, "and let's talk."

"No." Sophia's voice was strangled by more than just the helmet. I could practically here her heartbeat accelerating, the adrenaline rushing to her brain.

"It's in your interest," I told her truthfully. "If you walk out now, there's no hope for you."

"No. No way. You? A Ward? A hero?"

You don't even know what that word means.

"I said the same thing when I found out, you know?" I asked rhetorically, a light laugh bubbling up to color the words. "You? The girl so vicious and vile she thought shoving a classmate into her locker with a literal biohazard was an innocent prank? But them's the breaks, I'm afraid."

"No." Her voice was getting high, almost panicked. "No, fuck this. I'm not going to work with you."

"Is that your final answer?" My lips twisted into a smile. Part of me hoped she would just walk out. Sitting here, directly across from the woman—no, the girl—who'd driven me to madness, to depression, to pain, and eventually to power, I was reminded of just how deep and strong ran my hatred for her.

But she's just a child.

As much as I was enjoying this conversation, enjoying getting her on the back foot for once, enjoying being the one with all the power, I had a goal in mind. I needed to know.

"Because, believe me, I would love to have you walk out that door right now and be unceremoniously arrested and kicked out on your ass," I told her. It was, of course, true. I just had a better prize in mind for the alternative. "That would be wonderful. I owe you for a hell of a lot of shit, Sophia. But there's an alternative. Sit down."

When she did, my smile widened slightly, because I knew I'd won. "Now, Sophia," I said, and in my satisfaction my voice came out practically a purr. "What do you desire?"

End Arc 1: Glimmer

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

When I followed Sophia out of the room, both of our masks back on our faces, we were immediately faced with the stares of seven heroes, most of them accusing.

"Shadow Stalker," Aegis said, and his voice was hard. "You know what Armsmaster's been telling us?"

"If it's about my trigger," I offered, stepping up beside Sophia, "then yes, she does."

Agies stared at me. I didn't know what his face looked like under his mask, but I had a strong feeling it was incredulous. "You're—" he stopped.

I smiled. "Annatar," I said. "Yes, I'm the girl she shoved into the locker. We've reached an understanding."

Sophia snorted. From her perspective, I knew, nothing had changed except that her probation might actually be enforced now. She saw this as just another "last chance." I was determined to disabuse her of that notion.

But that could come later.

"An understanding?" Aegis sounded floored. "You can forgive something like that?"

"Far from it," I replied. "But it's better to have another hero on the streets than a villain, and I want to see if I can make Shadow Stalker into a hero."

"And that's a more than admirable goal," Armsmaster cut in. "But let me be clear, Shadow Stalker: as far as I'm concerned, you've already run out of chances. You're here because Annatar wants you here. The moment I see you step an inch out of line, you'll be out of the Wards and off the streets before you can put away your crossbow. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, sir," said Sophia venomously.

Armsmaster studied her for a moment, and then looked away, glancing among the other Wards. "You all have the rest of the day off from school to get acquainted with your new teammate," he said. Then, to me: "Annatar, Director Piggot and I would like to see you in about an hour about your transfer to Arcadia."

I nodded. "Thank you, Armsmaster," I said.

He sighed. "Thank you," he said dryly. "You've been more understanding than I could have hoped for. Let me know if you need anything."

With that, he left. The moment he was out the door, Sophia stepped away from my side as fast as her legs would carry her and flung herself into a couch. "Fuck," she grunted. " 'Step an inch out of line.' The fuck's that even mean? I'm already on probation!"

"I'm pretty sure you're getting a new probation officer," I told her coolly. "One that'll actually do their damn job, I hope."

"Fuck you, Hebert," she grunted.

"You certainly tried to fuck with me," I said, tearing my helmet off of my head. "Sophia, I really don't want to deal with you, and the fun thing is, I don't have to. So shape up, all right?" I glanced at the other Wards. "Also, she definitely just unmasked me, right?"

Aegis was staring over at Shadow Stalker and seemed unresponsive, so Gallant stepped up. "She did, yes," he said, reaching up and pulling the helmet off of his suit of power armor. The young man underneath it looked to be a little older than me, with tanned skin, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. His teeth were bright white as he smiled. "Dean Stansfield. I guess we'll be going to Arcadia together."

I smiled and stuck my helmet under my arm. "Taylor Hebert," I said, sticking out my other hand. He shook, giving me a warm smile from his handsome face.

"I have to say," he said, "I have to admire your restraint in allowing Shadow Stalker to stay on the team. I just hope it doesn't come back to haunt you."

"I've been stabbed in the back before," I said dryly. "I can handle it as long as I'm expecting it."

"Okay, no, really," Vista said suddenly, her voice sharp. "Why the fuck are we still putting up with the bitch, again? Annatar, I get that it's heroic and all that to, I don't know, turn the other cheek, but I don't want to have to deal with her anymore, either. None of us do."

"Don't speak for the team, Vista," Aegis cut in, shaking himself out of his stupor.

"You don't suddenly start pretending you give a fuck about me," Sophia interrupted him.

I gave her a look. "Sophia, are you sure you want to be making more enemies right now?"

"Fuck you."

I ignored that and turned to Vista. "I'm going to be watching," I said honestly. "You're all going to be watching. If she does anything more than be vaguely obnoxious, she's out. I know it's annoying, but…" I sighed. "Better the viper where you can see her."

"We can see her if she's in juvie," Vista grumbled.

"She's a breaker," I said emphatically. "She'd be on the streets, as a villain, in days. Hours, even. Best-case scenario, she gets picked up by the Merchants and gets hooked on something that keeps her dumb enough to be non-threatening, or tries to make it on her own and gets herself caught again."

This was something of a lie. Juvenile hall could have easily been rigged with electrically charged walls and other systems to keep Shadow Stalker contained. It would have been an expenditure of resources which I hoped to render unnecessary, however.

I had a use for Sophia.

"It's not as though she could join Empire or the ABB," Vista argued. "She's black! Neither of them would take her, and what's she going to do on her own?"

"Hunt me down," I said with a wry smile. "Even if I hadn't unmasked—even if she'd just gotten put into juvie for what she did to me, without knowing it was because I became a Ward, she'd blame me for it."

"Maybe don't talk about me like I'm not here?"

"Maybe grow up," I shot back. "Vista, she's got a friend who knows where I live, even assuming she doesn't already. She could come after my dad."

"She could do that anyway," said Browbeat cautiously.

"Not if she's confined to the Rig and house arrest."

"You what?" Sophia roared.

"You'd prefer juvie?"

That shut her up.

"She's here because I want to give her a chance," I said quietly. "That doesn't mean giving her free reign. I'm the one that paid for it, last time she was cut loose. I'm not making the same mistake again. She's not getting any solo patrols, and the only three places she'll be besides patrol are here, her house, and Winslow. And she's going to be watched at Winslow."

Vista sighed. "We still have to deal with her."

"Yes," Aegis said firmly. "We do. So try not to make it harder than it has to be, Missy."

Vista sighed. "Fine, fine." She reached up and pulled off her visor and helmet. "Hi," the young blonde girl said, a wry smile on her face. "Missy Biron. Sorry if I'm a little bitter that you had the chance to get rid of Shadow Stalker and didn't take it."

"I understand," I said honestly. "I really, really understand."

She grunted. "I'm pretty sure you do," she said. "Oh, God, Armsmaster told us she caused your trigger. No details, but that's..."

I shook my head. "It was," I said flatly, "but… part of my power helps me deal with it. Don't worry about me. Everyone's trigger events suck."

"Ain't that the truth," muttered Clockblocker, pulling off his helmet. Underneath, he was a pale, freckled guy with a shock of unkempt red hair atop his head. "Dennis O'Donnel," he introduced, sticking out a hand for me to shake.

"Don't do it," Sophia drawled from the corner. "He'll freeze you and then we'll all have to wait half an hour for you to wake up."

Dennis stuck his tongue out at her. "Spoilsport."

I chuckled. "Maybe we wait on the pranks until introductions are done?" I suggested.

"Fiiiiiine," he whined, winking at me. "But I'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too."

I laughed at that. "I'll pass the warning on to Toto."

"Okay, wait," Kid Win said, coming forward and pulling off his visor. Under it was a pale kid, maybe half a year younger than me, with wavy, unkempt brown hair. "You're a tinker, right?" he asked. "Armsmaster said you were a tinker."

I nodded. "I specialize in powered items."

"Powered? Like power armor?"

"No," I chuckled. "Powered, like Dauntless."

"Oh." He blinked at me. "Damn, that sounds broken."

I giggled. "It is, a bit," I admitted.

"Introductions," Aegis muttered, nudging the tinker.

"Oh, right," said Kid Win, shaking himself. "I'm Chris—Chris Thompson. Looking forward to working with you."

"Likewise," I said, shaking his hand.

"Browbeat?" Aegis prompted.

Browbeat stepped forward. His posture was slightly hunched, which looked a little silly with his nearly six feet of bodybuilder's muscle. "Hi," he said, slowly pulling off his full-face cowl. "I'm, uh, Sam Keene," he introduced. His voice was surprisingly soft and gentle for such a big guy. Timid, even.

"Taylor Hebert," I said, putting my small hand into his larger one. "A pleasure."

"And I," Aegis said, pulling off his mask to reveal a face the color of adulterated coffee, dominated by large brown eyes, "am Carlos Casiano. I'm leader of the Brockton Bay Wards."

I grinned at him. "Should I call you 'sir' then?" I asked.

He shook his head with a slight laugh, matching my smile. "Please, no," he said. "I prefer to think of it as 'first among equals,' if it's all the same to you."

"Glad to hear it," I said. "I don't do well with authority."

"Gee," Missy said sarcastically. "I wonder why. It wouldn't have anything to do with how Winslow hung you out to dry, now would it?"

"Missy, I'm sure it wasn't like that," Carlos said.

"On the contrary," I said, treating Missy to a wry smile. "It was exactly like that. You know, local schools are compensated for having Wards attend?"

Missy twitched. "No," she said flatly. "No, they didn't let you get tortured just for a little extra cash. No, that's b— that's garbage."

"It is," I agreed, "but it's also exactly what happened, I'm afraid."

"Fuck that," Vista said succinctly.

"Language, Missy," Carlos said wearily. "We can't be heard like that on patrol."

Missy sighed. "And this isn't worth a couple f—?" she cut herself off. I got the impression it was an old argument. "Never mind, I—sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Carlos said. Then he turned to Sophia. "Shadow Stalker," he said, and his voice was hard. "You want to give us the details of your deal with Annatar?"

"I don't really know them," Sophia replied coolly. "I just figured it's probably better than juvie. And, I mean, I can always pick juvie later if I'm wrong. Some bullshit about trying to be a real hero."

I nodded. "You and I," I told her, "are going to be working together a lot, I think. Partly so I can keep you in check, and partly so that maybe you can actually learn something."

Sophia grunted. "Just don't hold me back."

I stared at her and slowly began to reach for Narya's power. Slowly, all of the other Wards backed away from me slightly. A conversation that had started up between Kid Win and Clockblocker, after they'd both introduced themselves, cut off mid-word. All of them were staring at me, Narya's power demanded their attention. It was as though I was silhouetted against a light that was less behind and more within me, and the shadow I cast demanded respect.

Sophia seemed almost to be shrinking, her posture hunching, slightly, as though she was trying to curl up and hide from my gaze.

My voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence like an elf-blade. "I wouldn't worry about that, Hess."

I gradually released my hold on Narya's power. The room seemed to come back into focus around me, the shade receding from the walls, floor, and other Wards.

"No," I said dryly, my eyes seeking the beady glint I saw behind her mask. "I wouldn't worry about that at all." I glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'd better go see the director about getting the hell out of Winslow," I said. "I'll be back in a bit, probably."

The Wards were totally silent, watching me as I walked out. I hoped Presence hadn't too badly ruined my first impression.

My fears were allayed as, in the moment the elevator door closed behind me, I heard a whispered, "That was awesome," from Vista. I smiled to myself even as the small pod started to rise.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

"Annatar, come in." Director Piggot's voice was firm and businesslike, devoid of any particular emotion.

I entered her office and sat down. "Armsmaster said you wanted to talk about Arcadia?" I asked.

Piggot nodded, folding her hands on the table. "I sent out some emails while you were in preliminary power testing," she said shortly. "The good news is we can definitely get you short-listed into Arcadia. There's some choices as to how we go about that."

"Wait," I said quickly, holding up a hand. "Is this conditional on my joining the Wards proper, or is this still part of the trial membership?"

"We'll facilitate your transfer to Arcadia regardless," Piggot said evenly. "Along with the identity-protection measures we offer. They won't protect you if you decide not to join the Wards, however."

"That makes sense," I said, "Although I'm surprised you're going this far out for a trial member."

Piggot's face twisted slightly. "Like I said," she replied, "it's a new system. I have a strong feeling it's going to turn out to be too expensive in its current iteration. You're lucky to be joining us when you are."

"Fair enough."

"Now, regarding your transfer to Arcadia," Piggot continued, all business again, "We have a couple of options."

"I'm listening," I told her, folding my hands in my lap.

"As part of the deal in place between the Wards program and the local schools, we have to tell the administration your identity so that they can let you off early if necessary for Wards activities." Piggot folded her hands on the desk and met my eyes behind the mithril helmet. "Part of the deal with Arcadia in particular means that they usually accept students of a similar body type at the same time as a Ward, and let those students off at similar odd times to keep the Ward's identity safe. You see the problem?"

I nodded. "I'm transferring in the middle of the semester, and they don't have any students of that body type transferring in at the same time who could cover for me. I guess they pull those students out too, whenever they pull out the Wards?"

Piggot nodded. "It's a misdirection we use to keep Wards' identities secure," she said. "The obvious solution is to just make a list of already-admitted students who have your basic body type and use them as your covers, but…"

"…But they didn't transfer in at the middle of the semester," I finished. "It'd be obvious and useless."

"Precisely," said Piggot. "Now, if you don't care about your privacy, we can still do that, and you'll be in Arcadia within a week. However, an alternative is to scan Arcadia's waitlist and admit a few students who would fit as long as they agree to be your covers. That'll take longer, more like two weeks at least, and it might take up to a month. Which would be time you're still attending Winslow."

I grimaced. "So either my secret identity gets put at risk, or I have to deal with Sophia and the others for another month?"

"Essentially, yes," said Piggot. "Of course, with Shadow Stalker's probation, if she so much as looks at you funny you're well within your rights to ask us to toss her out. So that should make things easier."

"And I'm honestly not scared of the other two anymore," I said dryly. "I'm not even scared of her. Fine, we'll take the extra time, and get this done right."

"You're sure?"

I nodded. "I'd rather not put Dad at risk," I said. "Having me as a daughter's trouble enough without supervillains coming after him."

"Fair enough. I'll get that organized. What did the preliminary power testing come up with?"

"They could only test my current module," I told her, "and it was preliminary, but for now they've got me as a tinker 7, with possible changes depending on what else I can do in future and with my other modules. The current module's trump 6, shaker 5, striker 2, and master 0. My armor also gives me a purely-defensive brute 3."

"When can we test your other modules?"

"Probably one tomorrow and one on Thursday."

"Do they change by themselves daily?" Piggot asked.

"No," I said, then hesitated. "I… manually activate them, and I usually do it once daily."

"Usually? Couldn't you do it more often for testing?"

"I left the others at home," I confessed. "I'd need to head home to get them, and I don't like carrying them around." Narya glimmered warmly on my finger. "They're tinkertech—sort of—but I can only use one at a time. Whichever one I'm using has a localized stranger power which makes it undetectable to people, but the others look like tangible objects—which could be stolen. And that would be very bad."

"Yes," Piggot agreed dryly, "I agree. It would be very bad. I think I'd rather you keep these objects on the Rig than in your house."

"More people pass through here every day than go through my house in the average year," I protested. "And I have ways of keeping them safe."

"We'll do it your way," Piggot acquiesced. "For now. We'll talk about it more later; Armsmaster would be happy to secure them in his lab, I'm sure, and his security is tinkertech. Can you bring both of the other modules tomorrow?"

"I'd much rather not," I confessed. "I still don't trust Shadow Stalker. If she were to steal the R—module I wasn't wearing, it could be catastrophic."

Piggot sighed. "I guess one day won't make that much difference," she grumbled. "Well, I think that's everything for now. We'll have to figure out how we're going to announce your presence. Armsmaster will want to talk to you about taking down Lung—he's been stewing over who'll get the credit. I'll also schedule you an appointment with the PRT's image department. One of them will want to talk to you about your cape identity and image."

"A PRT employee?" I asked. "Does that mean I have to unmask to him?"

"No," Piggot said. "Wards' identities aren't available to everyone in the PRT by any stretch, and the image department isn't on the need-to-know list."

"Good to know. Anything else?"

Piggot shook her head. "Not for now," she said. "Go see Armsmaster. By the end of the day we should have a PHO account for you under your cape name. Don't post with it until we have a plan of action for your reveal."

I nodded. "I can do that. Thank you, Director."

"Thank you, Annatar. Probably half of my Wards aren't this cooperative."

-x-x-x-

Armsmaster's workshop door was shut when I arrived. I palmed the button to its side. No noise emerged, but I wasn't sure whether that was because it was a silent doorbell or because the room was soundproofed.

When, about thirty seconds later, the door opened, the sudden wall of sound that hit me answered that question. Definitely soundproofed.

"Annatar," Armsmaster said, standing aside. "Come in. I was just tinkering."

I grinned. "I can understand that," I said, stepping inside. The sound was coming from several small machines, each of which held a piece of metal in various stages of the forging process, being carved with lasers or heated in nanoforges. Piece by piece, the room was building tinkertech around me.

It was efficient, effective, and horribly impersonal. "You never even touch your stuff until it's finished," I realized, and only after I'd spoken did I realize I'd said it aloud.

Armsmasater shrugged. "The nanoforges are faster at the actual building than I could be," he said. "I spend my time on design, mostly."

I shuddered slightly, an involuntary reaction.

"I can get a couple of nanoforges requisitioned for you," Armsmaster offered. "Dragon builds them now, at her base in Vancouver."

"No thank you," I said quickly. "I prefer to handle the metal myself, forge it properly. How can you even mesh your intent into the object if your hammer never touches it?"

Armsmaster stared at me for a moment, and then said dryly, "I think this is a powers thing."

I sighed. "Yeah, probably. I don't know. It feels wrong."

"I'm afraid it's the only way I know how to do it," Armsmaster said evenly. "And it's worked so far."

I nodded. "Fair enough," I said before wrenching my gaze away from the nanoforges and looked up at his visor. "You wanted to talk about Lung?"

He nodded. "PHO has, of course, already leaked the fact of Lung's defeat," he said. "But the Protectorate hasn't yet released a statement regarding what happened. We need to do so soon. I asked them to hold off for at least a couple days in case you decided to come forward."

I smiled at him. "Well, thank you for that," I said. "Shouldn't we just tell them the truth? I held him off for long enough that you could arrive and beat him?"

Armsmaster nodded. "That's probably wisest," he agreed. "Although, of course, it is complicated by the fact that your reveal hasn't actually happened yet. I'll consult with Director Piggot and Glenn Chambers, if he's available, or one of his people if he's not. Either we'll hold off on discussing Lung until you're public, or we'll say Lung was taken down with the help of an 'unidentified hero' and then reveal you as that hero later. It depends on how fast our thinkers, and Mr. Chambers, want the timeline to go."

"That makes sense," I said. Then I paused. "Why didn't you just do that anyway?"

"Well, I wanted to make sure you wanted the credit," Armsmaster said. "It could make you a target, after all. I could leave you out of the story entirely, if you prefer. I don't know that I'd advise that, but it's certainly an option."

"The ABB will already know I helped," I said, "and besides them, who else is going to want to avenge Lung? I think it should be fine."

"It's not about avenging Lung," Armsmaster replied. "It's about power. If people know you're a cape who can even think about standing up to him, you become a valuable commodity. There are certainly people who aren't above kidnapping and extortion to get someone like that to do what they want."

I grimaced. "That's fair," I allowed. "Do you think I should deny involvement?"

"No," said Armsmaster firmly. "I think, as a Ward, building a good name for yourself is more important than that little bit of safety. It lends the Wards, and heroes in general, that little bit more credibility. And we should be able to protect you from the backlash. I think taking credit would be the best choice, in this scenario. But it's your choice."

"Then I'll take the credit," I said. Narya grew pleasantly warm on my finger. "It'll be a good way to spread hope. With both you and I, two heroes who stood up to Lung, on the heroes' side… that'll look good."

"I agree," Armsmaster said. "Likely better than if I took the credit alone; people already know I'm a powerful cape, and I'm already reinforcing it with this, but starting your career this way will be more useful to you than to me. I'll talk to the Director about it."

"Thank you," I said. "I'd better get back to the Wards, make sure they're not giving Sophia too hard a time."

"A moment, Annatar," Armsmaster said, putting a hand on my shoulder as I turned to leave. The power armor clanked on the mithril pauldron. "I wanted to talk to you a bit more about that."

"About Lung?"

"About Shadow Stalker. Why did you want her to stay in the Wards?"

I tried to meet his gaze, but I couldn't see his eyes under the visor. "Several reasons," I said. "I told you this in Piggot's office, though. Better to have the viper where you can see her, and if I can actually make a hero out of her, that's better than another villain on the streets."

"I'm not expressing myself well," Armsmaster said quietly. "Look, Annatar, I'm a parahuman too. I triggered, same as you. I'm asking… how? How can you stand being in the same room as her, regardless of any notion of the greater good?"

I smiled slightly. "I'm stronger than her," I said evenly. "I know that. Now, she does too. She's annoying, yeah, but every second I spend in her presence annoys her way more than it does me. That talk she and I had? I got to know her better in those ten minutes than I did in the last eighteen months. Trust me, Armsmaster: having to deal with me, knowing I have this kind of power over her, and knowing that she can't even fight me for it because she'll lose? That's worse than anything juvie could do to her. It doesn't mesh with her philosophy, it causes dissonance."

"That sounds like it could make her unstable," Armsmaster countered. "Which makes her dangerous."

"I want her unstable," I replied. "If she's unstable, I can topple her. She sees the world as made up of predators and prey, and right now, her position is prey after seeing herself as a predator for years. She has no choice but to either change her world-view or break. I think I can help her do the former."

"And make her into a hero that way." Armsmaster didn't sound happy.

"Yes," I said. "Manipulative, I guess, but she wants to be a hero. She really, really does. She just doesn't know what that even means."

"You know this from your conversation with her?"

I nodded. "Annatar," I said, enunciating clearly. " 'Lord of Gifts' in Quenya. It's… instinctive for me, to figure out what people want, and what to give them…" …to make them mine. "I think it might be a minor thinker power. It only surfaced after I got tested, so I'll bring it up when I test my next module tomorrow."

"Hm." The grunt sounded almost noncommittal. Wary, even. "You got Shadow Stalker to open up to you? You, a person she despises?"

I sighed. "I guess it might be a minor master power," I acknowledged. "I don't think so, though. I definitely didn't Dominate her like I did that ganger on Sunday night. It probably wouldn't have worked even if I'd tried—she's too willful. I don't even have that module active today. No, I just… maneuvered the conversation in such a way that answering my questions caused less dissonance than clamming up."

"By way of her philosophy?"

I nodded. "She likes confrontation," I said. "So I made keeping quiet non-confrontational, and talking a battle, so that she'd leap into it and give me what I wanted."

"This sounds a great deal like a thinker power," Armsmaster said slowly. "Make sure you get it tested tomorrow."

"Will do."

"Thank you," he said. "Now, I should get back to my work. You go rejoin the Wards. I'm sure they have more to tell you about how we do things."

"Probably," I agreed, smiling. "I'm looking forward to working with you, Armsmaster."

He exhaled and a faint smile curled the edges of his bearded mouth. "Same to you, Annatar."

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

This chapter was beta-read by @dwood15, author of Tearing the Aeons, whose first chapter I recently beta'd in return. I much appreciate the assistance.

-x-x-x-

"Colin?" Dragon's voice, emanating from his earpiece, broke his contemplation. Assembled on the table before him was Annatar's silvery armor—mithril, she claimed, a substance she could transmute from other metals.

"Yes, Dragon?"

"Director Piggot wants to talk to us. Any luck with the armor?"

"Well, I can't damage it with conventional weapons or lasers," Colin said, turning away and picking up his halberd where it leaned against the wall before striding out of his lab. "Haven't tried the monomolecular blade."

"Could you repair it if you damaged it?"

"Probably not," he admitted. "Which is why I've been taking it slowly. Besides, we already tested it when Annatar was here."

"Then why—wait." Dragon stopped for a moment. "You're saying you can't damage it. As in, you can't get a sample to test?"

"Right," Colin said. "I can't exactly put the whole suit under a microscope. I've deduced that it's immune to most ionizing radiation. Alpha, beta, and gamma rays all just bounce off with almost 0% loss. It's highly photoreflective as well; I wouldn't recommend fielding lasers against it."

"Good to know," said Dragon. "Anything on the spear?"

"Annatar told the tester the name means 'icicle.' That's not figurative. The blade is cold enough to the touch that I'm surprised it isn't steaming. It's also sharper than I'd expect of ordinary metal forged with her limited equipment. It's not on par with my halberd, but it's sharp enough to cut through steel with some power behind it, and flash-freeze organic material it goes through."

"Flash-freeze? It's that cold?"

"It's more complex than that. To the touch, the blade is only around 260 Kelvin. When penetrating a substance, though, it seems to get much colder. I charted the warming rate of a clay sample I cut with the blade, and extrapolated the initial temperature. At the moment of severance, the sample's temperature appears to have dropped to 70 Kelvin."

"That's below the boiling point of nitrogen."

"I'm aware."

"And you still can't find any sign of electrical activity in the device?"

"None."

A pregnant silence followed Colin as he walked down the corridor towards Piggot's office.

"That's bizarre," Dragon said eventually.

"I'm starting to think her powers aren't mechanically tinker-like at all," Colin replied. "We'll have to see if you can analyze her gear, but it seems more similar to Dauntless' trump ability."

"You'll have to ask her if I can have a piece of her equipment to analyze," she said. "Or wait until she finishes the trial period so you can requisition it."

Colin nodded. "We'll have to see what the director thinks. While we're on the topic, what happened in her conversation with Shadow Stalker?"

Dragon hummed uncertainly. "That's… a hard question," she said slowly. "Annatar wasn't… her speech patterns shifted drastically when she was alone with Shadow Stalker."

"Shifted how?"

"She became more formal. Almost cryptic. Used archaic or formal diction a lot more. Her body language shifted a bit, too—she seemed to be trying to avoid synchronicity, even unconsciously."

"Synchronicity?"

"The unconscious 'mirroring' people do in conversations. When one participant in a two-person conversation leans forward, the other will often follow. It's an unconscious or subconscious mechanism to build rapport, according to some psychologists. Annatar was leading that conversation from the moment Shadow Stalker walked in, and didn't follow her cues once. I don't think that was conscious."

"An unconscious thinker power?"

"Possibly. It certainly put Shadow Stalker on edge, which only helped Annatar get her talking."

"And what did they talk about?"

Dragon sighed. "I expect Piggot will want a replay of the conversation in full," she said. "I'll play it back for both of you."

"Great, thanks."

Colin reached Piggot's office and knocked.

"Enter." The woman's voice was harsh, tired. He obeyed.

She was seated at her desk, typing something on her computer, her brow furrowed. She nodded at him as he entered. "Armsmaster," she greeted. "Dragon, you're here?"

"Yes," came the Canadian woman's voice from the room's speakers. "Where did you want to begin, Director?"

"Let's start with Annatar's master power," said Piggot evenly. "Dragon, you were watching our conversations with her. How much would you say it affected us?"

"Not much," Dragon said. "It probably made you somewhat more inclined to take her seriously, but not to the point where you would agree to anything you normally wouldn't. From what I got out of micro-expression analysis, you were both behaving as you might when presented with an independent hero of Protectorate age, rather than Wards age."

"That's not too bad," said Piggot slowly. "Annoying, especially if she can't be trusted to turn it off. It's certainly no worse than dealing with Glory Girl on a regular basis. Is that the extent of that ability?"

"Not at all," said Dragon. "When she damaged your desk, she seems to have… overcharged her aura. She did so again through her entire private conversation with Shadow Stalker, and again, once, when introducing herself to the Wards. When she does so, the aura usually manifests as something like Glory Girl's fear aura. If Armsmaster were anyone else, he might have backed down when she got into his face."

"It was certainly startling," Colin muttered. "I wasn't afraid of her, but I found it hard to remember that I was the Protectorate hero and she was the trial Ward."

"Right," Dragon said. "The power seems, at its basic level, to make it more difficult to keep perspective on Annatar's relative position in a conversation. It makes her seem more significant than she is. The closest analogue, really, is Nice Guy's power, but it's far less dangerous, even when she pulls out the stops. At best all she could do was compel Shadow Stalker to seriously consider her questions, rather than answering off the cuff. That's what my analysis suggests, anyway."

"Any idea whether the Master 2 rating we gave her is reasonable?" Piggot asked.

"If anything, I might lower it to Master 1 or Master 0," Dragon replied. "She can't make minions with the power any more than any relatively charismatic person."

"Good," said Piggot dryly. "Her apparent master/striker power in that other module is worrying enough; we don't need a shaker/master who can't keep it in her pants. Now, her conversation with Shadow Stalker. Can we get the recording?"

"I'll bring it up on your screen now."

They watched as Shadow Stalker entered the room and was summarily deconstructed. Colin and Piggot both watched the show in attentive silence.

Once the two young parahumans had left the room, the footage stopped.

"I have several questions," Piggot said dryly. "Easy ones first. 'Quenya?'"

"She told me the same thing," Colin confirmed.

"I heard," Dragon said. "Quenya, as a language, does not exist. Either she made it up, or her powers gave her complete knowledge of a language that no known culture speaks. It wouldn't be the strangest things powers have done."

"No, but it's up there," said Piggot. "Any sign it's particularly important?"

"Not especially."

"Then we won't worry about it for now," Piggot decided. "Ask her about it if and when she confirms her membership. Now, this definitional discussion of heroes and villains. It's something I'd expect from a philosophy student, not a Ward talking to another Ward. What's going on there?"

"She seems to be trying to cause dissonance in Shadow Stalker's world-view," Dragon answered. "Shadow Stalker considers herself a hero; Annatar is forcing her to consider a model whereby Shadow Stalker's behavior makes her a villain. It certainly made Shadow Stalker uncomfortable."

"It strikes me as dangerous," Piggot said slowly. "Annatar seems to have a very established idea of 'heroism.' If she ever decides we're not conforming…"

"If we ever stop conforming to the idea of 'protecting people,' Armsmaster said evenly, "Annatar isn't the only hero you should worry about leaving, Director."

"I'll take that." Piggot chuckled mirthlessly. "I suppose none of us would be here if we weren't idealists on some level, believing that the human race is redeemable. All right. Dragon, how would you rate Annatar as a security risk?"

"Low," Dragon said immediately. "Lower than Shadow Stalker, even before we knew most of what she was up to. Higher than, say, Vista, but no higher than most of the Wards. She's a remarkably well-adjusted young woman with a powerful, and slightly frightening, set of abilities. That doesn't inherently make her a security risk. As a full member of the Wards, she'll be extremely useful."

"Good. She seems eager." Piggot sighed. "Now the hard part. Winslow. I can't pull her out until her transfer to Arcadia is complete, because as a governmental employee I can't facilitate truancy. But something needs to be done."

"I have a feeling she can keep Shadow Stalker in check," said Colin dryly.

"Learned helplessness can be a real problem in such situations," Dragon cautioned. "But in this case, I agree."

"Yes," Piggot said. "There are issues on our end, however. Blackwell, the Winslow administration, and Officer Darbes." Darbes was the name of Sophia's handler, Armsmaster recalled. A woman who had always seemed professional, if ambitious.

"Darbes is entirely at your discretion, Director," Dragon said.

Colin interjected. "Whatever you decide, it's probably the easiest thing to keep from Annatar if you decide not to fire her, as Annatar is probably expecting."

Piggot shook her head. "Her orders were to watch Shadow Stalker and keep her in line," she said. "I'm forwarding all relevant details to the police department; they can handle her as they see fit. I'll ask them to keep the details confidential, but other than that, she's their officer. Their problem. If Annatar asks, that's all she needs to know."

"What about Winslow?" Dragon asked. "They're decidedly not under our umbrella. We can't really do much about them."

"No," Piggot said coldly, "but I have a problem with people who take positions without taking the responsibility that comes with them. I'll make that much clear to Blackwell directly, then report the problem she allowed to fester to the school district with a letter of concern."

"Good," said Dragon. "With any luck, that'll be enough for Shadow Stalker, too. I'd recommend you try to get a therapist transferred into ENE to see her, more regularly than standard evaluations."

"Do you think Annatar might need therapy as well?" Piggot asked.

Dragon sighed. "I think just about every parahuman needs therapy," she said gently.

"In that case, the standard screening will have to do for her. Back on topic," said Piggot firmly, "Annatar's modules. She's worried about security. If they're half as powerful as she makes them sound, they cannot be allowed to get into the wrong hands. She's currently got them stored at her home, but it's worryingly easy to find a cape's identity if one really tries, and I don't want any villains getting bright ideas. Can we secure them in your laboratory?"

Colin nodded. "I can," he said. "They'll be more than safe with my spare halberds."

"Good, thank you," Piggot said. "I'll probably wait to push her on it until she's signed on. Also, be sure to impress upon her the importance of reporting when she's using a module, and which one. We need to at least make sure we know when master powers are flying around."

"Understood."

"Good. While we're on the topic, Dragon, any insight into whether she's likely to join?"

"She was planning to join before she knew about the trial program," Dragon replied. "I'd be very surprised if she backed out now, so long as we don't do anything to put her off."

"Annatar's a powerful cape." Piggot's tone was cool. "As with all heroes and Wards, we'll do our best to make sure she understands the PRT and Protectorate are there to help. Moving on, I assume you've been studying her gear?" she finished, turning to Colin.

Colin nodded. "Her 'mithril' is hard to get a read on because it's impervious to most of what I can do to it, including for purposes of analysis. I'm starting to make progress. Should have something by the end of the night."

"Try to get some sleep, Armsmaster," Dragon pleaded. "You're no use to the Protectorate dead on your feet."

Colin sighed. "I'll try," he promised.

"Make sure her gear is back in her locker by morning," Piggot ordered. "Just in case she decides to come by early. We may have permission to test her equipment, but I'd rather not remind her that we can just pull it out of her locker if we don't have to."

"Understood."

"Good. I expect a preliminary report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon. Dismissed."

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many thanks to @dwood15 for betareading this chapter. Sorry for forgetting to credit when I first posted.

-x-x-x-

I really needed to figure out a better way to get my armor from place to place. As it was, I left my set, along with Aeglos, at PRT Headquarters for the night. I had a small, secure locker there now, apparently. It was deep, rather than tall. I couldn't have fit in this one.

Dad picked me up from the ferry in the evening, around dinnertime. I expected him to have questions.

Foremost among them was "What's happening with you and Sophia?"

"I'm giving her another chance," I told him wearily. "I… she wants to be a hero, she's just really bad at it."

"How can you know that?" he asked, his voice hard. "She sure hasn't been very heroic to you."

"I just do," I said. "I just… she has two desires, Dad. Sophia likes to be on top, to assert herself in a display of power. She wants to not feel weak. But at the same time, she likes to think of herself as a hero. What I have to do is show her that her desires are in conflict, and help her make the right choice."

"Why should you?" There was a lost note to his voice, under the growl. "You don't owe her anything!"

"Except my powers."

He didn't respond.

"It's not like that," I said gently. "No, I'm not doing this out of some misplaced sense of duty. I just… being a hero isn't about beating up the bad guys, it's about making the world better. And Shadow Stalker is part of that. If I can make her into a hero, that's one more hero—a real hero—in the world. That's worth fighting for. I can use heroes."

Dad sighed, turning onto another street. "I don't know if I could be that self-sacrificing, " he said quietly. "I'm not even sure I approve of you being that self-sacrificing. You're important too, you know."

"I know, Dad." I smiled. "On the plus side, soon I'll only have to deal with her in the Wards."

"Oh?" Dad was surprised. "They've already got you out of Winslow?"

"I'm being fast-tracked for Arcadia," I replied. "It'll take a couple of weeks, but I should be able to keep Sophia in check during the interim.

"Well, good," Dad said firmly. "I don't want you going back there ever again."

I simply smiled.

-x-x-x-

The next day I had Gladly's class in school with Madison. For the first time in quite a while, there was nothing unfortunate on my chair. No glue, no juice, nothing. Madison ignored me through the entire period, despite sitting fairly close.

I still wound up doing all the work for my group, though.

Sophia responded to the changed situation rather differently. Sophia ignored me through most of math. The lack of sneers in my direction was disconcerting. It wasn't that she didn't look my way; she did, if not as often as usual. But her brow was furrowed, and her teeth weren't bared. She was confused, not hateful.

Oddly enough, her expression wasn't the hateful rictus I might have expected, had I not known her as well as I now did. I'd won her respect, and now that she'd had a few hours and a night's rest to consider it, she'd assimilated me into her world-view. I was a survivor, now, like her and Emma.

All the better. It would be far easier to dismantle her world-view from there than from outside.

I didn't see Emma until lunch. She had her own way of coping. It wasn't a healthy one.

"Oh, Taylor!" Her voice, sickly sweet, called across the lunchroom. "You finally came back! I thought you'd be longer."

I glanced up from my ham sandwich at her, my face controlled. I was seated at one table, quite alone; she had stood up from another table, across the cafeteria. Beside her, Sophia was looking down, but I could see the tension in her jaw.

When Emma didn't continue, I returned to my food without a word.

"Did it all get to be too much for you?" Emma asked with macabre gentleness. "Did you have to take a break, to cry yourself to sleep for a few nights? At least it wasn't a week straight, this time."

I was barely aware of what I was doing when I stood up and whirled to face her. I don't know what the students around me saw, on my finger, but from my perspective the blue star of Vilya was practically incandescent. My fists and teeth clenched.

I met her eyes. She had started walking towards me as she spoke, but took a step back as I rose, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

It would be so easy. All I had to do was reach over, set my hand on her smooth skin, run my fingers through her soft hair, and let go. Let Vilya do its work. It would be so easy. I'd even be able to play it off as a moment of reconciliation. The PRT would know, if it was reported to them, but no one in Winslow was particularly inclined to report me except Sophia. And I could handle Sophia.

It would only take a moment, and Emma would be mine again, more than ever. Mine in sum; totally and utterly, body and mind. I'd never have to hear her snide insults or feel her verbal daggers in my back again.

It would be so easy. Just a moment of weakness, and I could have a lifetime of peace.

Vilya's light dimmed. Not yet, not here, and not like this. I wasn't sure I was better than that, but I was certainly smarter.

"Tread carefully, little Icarus," I said. My voice carried in the sudden silence. "You're flying a little too close to the sun."

Emma bared her teeth. "You think I—"

She's obsessed with strength. Emma had been confronted by her own weakness in the alley, two years ago, and had since tried to feel strong by treading on the backs of others. If she were worth the investment, that would be the avenue I'd take to shape her into something useful.

Right now, I was feeling vindictive. I took the route instead to destroy her.

"I knew a little girl," I said coldly, cutting her off, "who loved her friends, and valued the truth, and knew right from wrong. That girl suffered, as we all do. You want to know the difference between her and me?"

I gazed into her eyes, watched the pupils dilate, watched her breasts—my, how jealous I'd once been of those—rise and fall in an accelerating tempo. I waited until she tried to say something, anything, to reclaim control of the conversation, and then cut her off.

"I survived my trial. She broke."

She tried to say something. I don't know what it was; I didn't listen. I just left.

-x-x-x-

"So, how is it, working with the PRT?" Dad asked over dinner on Wednesday night.

"Nice," I said honestly. "They finished testing with Nenya and Vilya today, so that's all of the Three."

"What do they do, exactly? I remember you using Hope on me, on Monday. That's Narya, right?"

"Right," I replied happily. "Narya, the Ring of Fire. Provides hope and resistance to domination to its Bearer and to allies around them. Besides that, it gives me enhanced strength, and the ability to demand respect from those around me."

"Sounds powerful."

"It is. I could probably beat a lot of the worst villains in the world right now because Narya makes me immune to masters, as far as I can tell. I'm hoping the PRT gets off their ass about putting me against those villains soon."

Dad looked nervous. "Just… be careful, okay?"

"I will," I promised.

"And then there's… Nenya?"

I nodded. "Nenya, the Ring of Water," I said. "It protects its bearer and their allies from harm, whether that's by projecting barriers, enhancing their senses, or keeping them hidden."

"It can do all that?" Dad sounded impressed, and well he should.

"Yeah. They're all like that; crazy grab-bags of really strong powers."

"And what's the last one?"

"Vilya, the Ring of Air. The strongest of the Three. Vilya gives me control: over the elements, over people, over the future."

Dad stared at me. "That sounds… frightening."

"It can be," I replied seriously. "Vilya's the Ring I used to fight Lung, and that was my first time out with it. I still haven't figured out everything it can do."

"What do you mean, 'haven't figured out?'"

"The Rings don't come with an instruction manual. I'm learning, but there's a lot about each one I don't know." The PRT had been concerned about the way my powers sometimes just revealed more about themselves when I needed them. It made my powers hard to predict or plan around—a good thing, if I was working alone, but I wasn't anymore. They'd made me promise to report new powers for testing as soon as they appeared.

I'd agreed. It wasn't a hard oath to break, if I needed to.

"Think you could maybe control the gangs a bit?" Dad asked with a wry chuckle. "Might be nice to have some peace and quiet in the docks, for once."

"I could probably do that," I agreed teasingly. "It'll cost you, though."

"Oh?" his voice was light. "What price do you demand, Lord of Gifts?"

"Everlasting obedience," I said stiffly. "An eternity of servitude to my dark throne. Also, peeled grapes. Every day."

"Anything else, oh great and powerful one?"

"Hmm," I said, resting my cheek thoughtfully against my left hand, my skin chilling slightly as it came in contact with Vilya. "I don't suppose you could build me a tower, could you? A big, black one, taller than the Rig, from which I could oversee my domain?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Going into real estate, now?"

"Hey, shorefront property is all the rage, these days!"

He laughed. I joined him. It had been too long, I thought, since last we did this; laughing together like a father and daughter enjoying a private joke ought to.

In the kitchen, the kettle sang.

"Oh, I'll get that," Dad said. "Decaf, right?"

"Please."

I watched as he went to the counter and began to prepare an herbal infusion from teabags.

"So…" Dad began, breaking the silence, "what kind of stuff have you been doing with the Wards?"

"They haven't actually announced my membership, or even my existence, yet," I told him. "I'm still basically confined to the Rig and PRT Headquarters until they do."

"They're probably still trying to decide how they want to go about it."

"Probably" I agreed "I have the final say on most of it, although they have veto power if I do something stupid about it. De—um. Clockblocker got his name because he announced it live without consulting them."

"They weren't happy about that, I bet." Dad opened a cabinet, rummaging around for a pair of mugs.

"It isn't exactly G," I agreed.

"Shouldn't he have the right to his own brand? I mean, he goes out and risks his life for people."

I shrugged. "You'd think," I said dryly. "God forbid the heroes be human. They have to be PR paragons, every one."

"You don't sound bitter at all," said Dad with a chuckle. Teabags were dropped into each cup, and he began to pour the steaming water into them.

"I'm not, really. They love me. I'm literally going to be a knight in shining armor. As long as I don't do anything stupid, I'll be fine. I still don't like having to bow and scrape or whatever, but it could be a lot worse."

"I suppose it could." Dad returned to the table with the two mugs. One he passed to me. I took the warm porcelain and held it in both hands, enjoying the heat on my fingers.

"Thanks." I smiled at him.

"You're welcome. But if you're not out beating up crooks, what have you been doing?"

"Tinkering, mostly. I finished my—oh, let me show you!"

I set down my teacup, crossed the room, tripped over the couch, got to my backpack and pulled out the small mithril lockbox I'd crafted at the Rig.

Dad laughed at me. I stuck my tongue out at him as I stood up again.

"This," I said, returning to my seat, "is the Jewelry Box. I finished it yesterday."

"It doesn't have a lock on it," Dad said, bemused.

"Try to open it," I said, passing it to him.

He did. After straining for a moment, he handed it back. "Wow, that's one strong box. Lid didn't even budge."

I took it and rang my finger along the line where the opening would appear. In a hushed whisper, I spoke the command words: "Edro a adlenc!"

The shimmering glow of the Rings of Power within pierced the air as the box sprang wide, filling our dingy little room with multicolored light. Narya's red and gold played merrily on the walls alongside Nenya's silver and white. Their mesh formed an effect not unlike sunbeams filtered through several feet of clear water.

Dad sucked in a breath through a mouth which had fallen open, his wide brown eyes reflecting the glimmer like the warm light of a campfire.

"It's protected by a command phrase in Sindarin," I explained. "Since no one else knows Sindarin, it's pretty safe."

"Sounds useful," Dad agreed, his voice a little faint, his eyes still tracking the patterns of light on the wall.

I closed the Jewelry Box and set it aside by my plate. Dad shook himself and turned back to me. "Anyway, you've been doing a lot of forging on the Rig," he said. "Any particular reason you can't do that here?"

"I mean, they prefer me to anyway," I said, considering. "But that's not the main reason. They just have better equipment. I need heat for forging, and sometimes an ice water bath for quenching. Besides that, I need access to good steel and other metals, because it's easier to transmute those into mithril, and not everything's made out of mithril anyway."

Dad nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah," he said. "I can see why you'd rather work there. Just… tell me if you're going to stay there overnight, all right?"

"Sure," I promised. "I doubt I'll need to any time soon. I've got most of the equipment I really need in the short term now; I'll probably be supplying my teammates for a while. Did you know Vista goes into combat unarmed? She should have a dagger, at least. And a sword would work well with Gallant's armor."

Dad smiled. "You're definitely not short on ideas. I hope they appreciate what you do for them."

"They will," I said. "Once they've got the equipment I can offer, they definitely will."

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

I KEEP FORGETTING TO CREDIT! Thanks to @dwood15 for betareading this chapter, and to the Cauldron discord for assisting in research.

-x-x-x-

Mrs. Knott looked up when the door to her classroom opened in the halfway through her class. I glanced over too. It was a little mousy girl who I'd seen before, but whose name I didn't know. She shuffled her feet awkwardly when the class' collective attention turned on her.

"Um, Mrs. Knott?" she said, her frame shrinking from the attention. "The office sent me."

Mrs. Knott nodded encouragingly. "And what did they send you for, Savannah?"

"Uh, Taylor Hebert—she's supposed to come with me. And to bring her things."

Did Emma make trouble after yesterday? I wondered.

I shrugged and started packing up my things. "Don't worry about homework. There's not any today." Mrs. Knott said, giving me a nod. "We'll see you on Monday."

"See you then." I followed Savannah out of class without another word.

In silence, I followed Savannah down the hallway. She didn't say a word to me as we walked; didn't even glance my way once we'd left the classroom. It was fairly clear why. My social status was very much in flux; before now, basically anyone would have taken the opportunity of solitude to tease me. But many of them had seen the failure of Emma's verbal attack the day before, and they'd seen Sophia avoiding me since Tuesday. Savannah wasn't sure what interacting with me would do to her, and so was doing so as little as possible.

I almost had to laugh at how small her concerns were.

Blackwell's secretary greeted us, immediately shooing Savannah away before letting me in to see the principal.

As we entered, the woman glanced up from Sophia who was already there. "Good," she said as I started to close the door. "Shut the door, please."

I was already doing that.

I stepped in, gave Sophia an expressionless nod, and came to a halt beside her. Her jaw worked behind closed lips for a moment, her eyes narrowed at me, before she looked back at the principal.

"The PRT called," Blackwell said. "Sophia, you are to retrieve your costume and meet a van outside—Taylor, they already have yours. You'll change there. The Wards are being called to action."

"What's the situation?" I asked.

"I don't know, Miss Hebert," she said with an air of exasperation.

"We'll find out on the way, I suppose. Thanks." I glanced at Sophia as I turned away. "See you in the van."

-x-x-x-

The PRT had, in fact, fetched my armor from headquarters. I started changing, beginning with the gauntlets. I'd finished with them--and with the necessary removal and replacement of Nenya--when Sophia stepped in, tossed her backpack beside her, and then started rummaging in it.

"They tell you what we're here for?" she asked, a scowl on her face.

I shook my head. "We waited for you, don't worry." She gave me a look, but otherwise didn't respond.

After Sophia closed the door, the driver spoke. "I'll brief you while we move; we're on a short timetable. Costumes?"

"Accounted for," Sophia said. A rehearsed response. I'd need to read up on Wards procedure. I'd started, but between power testing and finishing up my gauntlets and the Jewelry Box I hadn't had time to commit them all to memory.

"Accounted for," I repeated after an awkward silence.

"Amateur," she said, rolling her eyes.

In answer, I just raised the middle finger of my right hand while the driver pulled out.

"The Undersiders are holding up Brockton Bay Central Bank," he began, his tone one of cool professionalism. "The bank's occupants are being held hostage. Normally, the Protectorate would be deployed, but unfortunately the local team is currently out of town at a publicity event. They are en route, but may be too late to assist."

"A meet and greet. Can't be bothered to do their jobs because they're busy getting drunk with a bunch of other rich snobs."

"Are you rejecting this mission, Shadow Stalker?" the driver's voice was hard.

"Nah," she said, her cold voice muffled by her mask, her fingers drumming an idle rhythm on the handle of one of her crossbows.

The driver continued, voice grim. "Amy Dallon of New Wave, codename Panacea, is one of the hostages. It's unlikely that the robbery will still be in progress once we arrive, but it was deemed sufficiently important to make the attempt to fetch you."

"How long does a bank robbery usually take?" I asked.

"About twenty minutes," Sophia said, "if the robbers are slow. There's no way we make it, unless the others hold them long enough."

I can change that. "All right, give me your hand," I said, holding mine out to Sophia, standing up--slightly bent so that I didn't bump my head on the roof of the car.

She blinked at me. "...Why?"

I grinned. "Well, you want to get there on time, don't you?"

I assume she grimaced under her mask, but she did take my hand.

"What are you doing, Annatar?" the driver asked.

"Oh, I was supposed to report new powers as they manifested, right?" I said, pulling Sophia in and lifting her into my arms. Nenya didn't exactly give me enhanced strength the way Narya did, but it did give me the capacity to carry heavier loads than I otherwise might. It was fitting--the Ring of Adamant made its bearer unbowed.

"The fuck are you doing?" Sophia shouted harshly, beginning to struggle in my arms.

"Quit squirming!" I told her. Then, to the driver, "Here's one, for the Water module. Super-speed. Sorta." I opened the door. The driver slammed on the brakes, but I kept my footing, Nenya keeping me stable. "We'll see you at the bank, sir."

I jumped out of the van, Sophia in my arms, and began to run. I quickly gained speed, the buildings blurring to either side as I weaved in and out of traffic, slipping in the space between cars. Based on the speed difference between me and the cars around me, I had to be going at least sixty miles an hour.

Sophia was clutching me tightly, hands clasped around my neck. The strangely intimate position was acutely awkward, exaggerated by the fact that it was, well, Sophia.

She did, slowly, relax once I'd been running for about thirty seconds. Her mask, previously fixing its gaze firmly over my shoulder and behind me, looked up into my face. "Don't you dare drop me," she hissed shakily.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

-x-x-x-

"Annatar," Clockblocker greeted me as I ran up. "Superspeed? Did I miss something?"

"New power on the Water module." I gently let Sophia down. Her legs shook slightly, but bore her weight. "I can switch to one of the others if--wait, shit. I don't have my other modules here." The Jewelry Box was still in my bag, and Aeglos was still on the floor of the van. "Also, Clock? Where's Aegis?"

Clockblocker chuckled, but it was Carlos' voice. "We switched costumes," he said. "Safety precaution. I'm still in command. Which one's Water again?"

"Stranger, thinker, shaker, mover," I recited quickly.

"Understood." Carlos—I couldn't think of him as either Aegis or Clockblocker—spoke firmly. "We're up against Tattletale, so there's no guarantee your stranger powers will work—"

"I ran into Tattletale on my first night out," I interrupted. "Water trumps her."

He stared at me for a moment, then spoke. I could hear the grin in his voice. "Oh. Perfect. Could you go in now and take one out?"

"Depends. I can't turn invisible, just hide really well. Do we have access to an employee's entrance? I can take cover in the teller's booths and get them if I get an opening."

Carlo-ckblocker nodded. "We don't have much time—Glory Girl's on the roof, and she's not in the mood to wait. Can you guide Stalker through the infiltration, Annatar?"

"I don't need fucking guiding--"

"Yes." I could keep Sophia inside Nenya's aura of concealment.

"Perfect. You two, go around the building to the right," he pointed, "and use the employee's entrance. Radio silence once you're in. See if you can take out Grue, Hellhound, or both. The moment we get a hint of fighting, the Wards will move in—Vista will give us a route into the lobby, and we'll bust in through the windows. Be careful."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "Stalker, don't kill anyone. Let's go."

"Fuck you," she said, but followed.

Creeping around the bank, we stayed behind the picket line until it wound its way past the alley we were making for, then crept along the wall and ducked into the shadow of the bank.

"I've got Grue," Sophia muttered then. "You get on Hellhound."

"Focus on the objective. We're here to thin the Undersiders without drawing attention or causing collateral damage. If Grue gives us an opening, great, but we can't go in half-cocked if he doesn't."

"You sound like Piggy."

"Better her than you."

"Fuck you, Annatar."

I didn't bother to answer. We were nearing the door. "You phase through and unlock it. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

She slipped through the door in her shadow form silence while I focused on reaching out with Nenya's power, trying to conceal us both. I was pretty sure it was working, but I hadn't really used it on more than myself yet.

The door opened with a soft click as the lock came undone. Sophia was crouched on the other side. She gave a thumbs-up--I assumed that meant she hadn't been seen.

I nodded. "Stay low," I said. "Let's get behind the tellers' desks."

She nodded and I silently followed her through the break room, down a corridor, and into the employee's section of the lobby.

Voices reached my ears as the door opened—low, but Nenya brought them to my ears anyway. "You got us into this mess," a male voice was saying. Probably one of the male Undersiders--it was vaguely familiar. "Can you get us out?"

"I'm trying to think, Grue," said a girl—Tattletale, I guessed. "Just… keep watching. They won't come in here while we have hostages."

"You think hostages are going to stop Collateral Damage Barbie, if that's really her on the roof?" A voice I recognized as Regent drawled. Sophia huffed something like a laugh.

"They'll hold her off from doing anything stupid, at least," said Tattletale grimly. "Now be quiet. I need to think. Why would she have come so—oh shit. Guys? We just took Panacea hostage."

And now that they've realized that, they could use her for leverage.

I closed my eyes and allowed Nenya to reach out. My ears seemed to sharpen, and I felt a faint prickling at their tips. Suddenly I heard more—the heavy and shallow breathing of worried or frightened hostages, the panting of Hellhound's dogs, the creak of Grue's leather gloves as he clenched his fist.

"Tats," he said darkly, "you really fucked the dog here."

"I can't be right every time."

"We going or not?" Sophia breathed into my ear.

I held up a finger, eyes still closed. "Quiet," I said, my voice barely a puff of air. "I'm listening."

Regent was crossing the lobby, coming our way. Grue and Tattletale converged on the hostages—probably looking to pick out Panacea. I heard the click of Tattletale's heels and the tramp of Grue's boots moving away, while the faint padding of Regent's finer leathers came our way. By the panting of her dogs and the rustling of their fur, Hellhound was staying fairly near to the main door of the bank on the back of one of her hounds. Two more paced around the hostages, keeping them corralled.

This was our chance.

Regent came to a halt, leaning against one of the tellers' booths. I crept along until I was across from him. Then, in one motion, I stood up, set one gauntleted hand across Regent's mouth, and struck him on the temple with my other fist.

He went limp in my arms with a muffled grunt. I quickly tugged him over the booth and backward into my lap as I crouched back down. Nenya muffled the sound of his body scraping over the wood. None of the other Undersiders seemed to notice.

"Nice," Sophia murmured, barely audible as she studied the unconscious Undersider. She quickly withdrew a tranquilized dart from her holster and jabbed it into his leg. "One down."

"Three to go. Quiet."

"Regent?" Grue's deep, masculine voice was loud in the bank, clearly cutting over all other sound.

"Shit," said Tattletale. "The Wards are in here. They have a stranger."

"The Wards don't have a stranger."

"They do now. Probably that girl from Saturday. Hey, Ward! Give up Regent, or we will start shooting hostages!"

Her eyes met mine. "I'll protect the hostages," I said, nodding. I didn't have Aeglos, but I didn't need it to be dangerous.

Sophia nodded in return.

"Last chance!" Tattletale called over the sound of a gun cocking. "Come out now!"

"That's our cue," my teammate said as I withdrew Nenya's protection. I vaulted over the booth and dove into action.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many, MANY thanks to @dwood15 for betareading and dealing with my repeated failure to rmember to credit him.

-x-x-x-

Sophia and I separated as we jumped into the fray. I charged between Grue and the hostages, one of Hellhound's dogs on either side of me. Sophia entered her shadow state, flowing like a wisp of cloud, and made a beeline for Tattletale.

"Get us out of here!" Grue called to Hellhound as he moved to intercept Shadow Stalker. He raised his hands toward Shadow Stalker, and darkness billowed forth like oily smoke, streaming towards her.

Hellhound's dogs approached me, baring their fangs. A quick whistle from their mistress, however, and they turned from me and galloped in her direction without a backward glance.

That wouldn't do. They'd have a nonzero chance of getting away on their mounts. Not acceptable. With a raise of my hand the two monstrosities collided headfirst into a barrier, cutting them off from Hellhound. The impact left me slightly winded, Nenya's power draining away temporarily to power the barrier, but I shook it off and turned towards the hostages.

"Get to cover," I ordered them. "Be careful, and don't get involved."

A growling and a thudding alerted me to a charging dog. I turned and threw up another barrier to halt its assault on me. It mashed into the air before me and I exhaled sharply at the impact. These things hit like trucks.

In a cacophony of breaking glass the windows burst inward, and there were the others. Almost at the same time, a section of the roof caved in and a girl in a cape and tiara burst down into the lobby—Glory Girl.

Clockblocker—in Aegis' suit—rushed towards Hellhound. Aegis—in Clockblocker's—dove headfirst into the growing darkness containing Grue, Shadow Stalker, and Tattletale. Browbeat followed them in, but stayed near the outer door. Glory Girl moved to intercept the dog that was neither gnawing on my barrier nor carried Hellhound.

The darkness was still growing, still spreading outward. Sophia's body flew out, rolling in my direction. Tattletale followed after her, oily darkness trailing behind, pistol trained on the prone form.

I held up a hand. "You don't want to do that," I advised her.

The girl in purple laughed harshly. "No," she agreed. "I really don't. Trainwreck!"

A cape seemingly composed entirely of scrap-metal burst through the lobby wall. Plaster and tiling from the bathroom on the other side flew everywhere in an explosion of dust and debris. I hadn't heard of him before, but this must be Trainwreck. My eyes, enhanced by Nenya, sharpened to see into the cloud. Behind the armored villain was a woman in a jester's colorful outfit in red and purple. Another villain I didn't recognize.

Nenya was not the Ring I wanted to be wearing right now. The Ring of Protection was perfect for avoiding or stopping fights; it was less ideal for actually engaging in them. That didn't make it useless, however.

I charged, the Ring of Adamant lending wings to my steps. I crossed the room in a fraction of a second and struck Trainwreck like, well, a speeding train. I impacted him with a rugby check, my shoulder embedding itself in his armored chest, the mithril smacking into the rusted iron with a blunted clang. He staggered backwards and almost fell before his feet found purchase. He reached for me then, but I rolled out of his grip and struck at the clown cape with a punch.

She blocked it with—where the hell had she gotten a car door?

She winked at me through the window and then the door was gone, replaced by a sledgehammer, which struck me in the side like a ton of bricks. I fell sideways, away from the both of them and into Grue's darkness.

I heard little, saw less. I picked myself up, glancing around uselessly in the dark mists. Where was Grue? He hadn't jumped on me yet, but that didn't mean much.

I'd been rolling as I fell into the darkness, and no longer knew which way led out. With a sigh, I picked a direction, hoping it would lead me back into the fray. Allowing Nenya to enhance my speed, I turned about ninety degrees and ran.

I came out of the darkness going pretty fast. The first thing I saw? The head of a sledgehammer, streamers dangling behind it, accelerating towards my face.

It hit me in the center of my brow, and my helmet rang like a gong, my head rattling. I slipped and fell, my lower body still sliding forward under my inertia so that I slipped under the clown girl's arms like child playing limbo.

I fell on my back between the clown and Carlos, the back of my helmet striking the ground hard. Then the pain came. It was the worst headache I'd ever had and then some. A thick fog was descending over the world, clogging my sight and my thoughts alike.

I'm pretty sure I swore. I'm pretty sure I swore in at least three languages, actually, none of which were English. Which was probably fortunate, since I think some of what I said would have made Dad's most hardened dockworker blush.

I rolled onto my stomach, my mouth still running in a mixture of Sindarin, Quenya, and Khuzdul, and pushed myself up, trying in vain to blink the stars out of my eyes.

As I got to my knees, the world flared with red light. Even as I leaned back from the rush of light and heat, the fire twisted away from me and blew into Carlos' face.

As fast as it arrived, the torch was gone from the clown girl's hand and one of her legs was coming up. Suddenly there was a heavy combat boot on her foot. It rushed towards my face, and I was sent sprawling back again.

I think that was the first time I cursed in Valarin. The word itself was unprintable, and not just because Valarin, as a language, looks and sounds like what you might get if French and Arabic had sex with the Cyrillic alphabet in a bizarre orgy, with Cantonese getting in on the action about halfway through.

I leapt to my feet, trying to ignore the hazy film descending over my eyes. I was definitely concussed, but was finding it hard to worry about it. Probably because of the aforementioned concussion. What was important, at the moment, was the fucking clown who had hit me with a sledgehammer twice and then literally kicked me in the teeth.

I charged her. She fell back and again with the fucking car door.

Nenya flowed into me like water. I slipped around the shield faster than she could react and grabbed her by the back of the head. Then, before she could do more than blink, I brought her forehead into the door's window so hard that the glass cracked.

She went down.

"Who has a headache now?" I tried to say. It came out more like, "woosahdechnau."

"Are you okay, Annatar?" Carlos asked sharply. "Circus hit you pretty hard."

Circus. That was her name. A good name for a fucking battle-clown. But, seriously, a car door?

"Annatar?"

"Mfin."

"What?"

I ignored him and turned about, surveying the situation. Tattletale and Hellhound were nowhere to be seen. Grue was standing stock-still and alone on the outer edge of his own darkness as it began to dissipate. Trainwreck was running at me, deflecting punches by Glory Girl.

I charged at the armored tinker, meeting him halfway. I slipped inside his guard, flowing around his reaching arms like water, got a grip on his chestpiece, and lifted.

Even though I wasn't strong enough to hold him there, I could throw him. So I did. A moment later there was a loud crash as he slammed into the wall.

A shadow rushed past me, skirting around the edge of the cloud of darkness. I followed, putting the shadow cloud between me and Circus.

Then there was a giant dog in front of me, and I was knocked back on my butt. It had just dived into the shadow cloud. I blinked after it as I stood up, disoriented, and a moment later it dived back out, and this time Circus was in its mouth.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Notakinarpursnurs."

The dog didn't seem to care about my command and just loped away past me at a run. I ran after it, through the hole in the bank's wall it had come through. Had there been a hole there before it came in?

I didn't notice the dog had a long, lizardlike prehensile tail until it whipped around and struck me hard. I was thrown backwards by the impact against my stomach, tumbling several feet before coming to a halt.

By the time I could pick myself up, the hound was long gone.

"Annatar!" Carlos was beside me. "Are you all right?"

I took a deep breath and forced my mouth to obey. "Concussn," I said, slowly and as clearly as I could manage. "Circs got 'way."

"It's all right." Aegis' voice was firm. "We've got two captures, and that's not bad at all. The Undersiders have lost two members, and we've got Trainwreck. That's a good mission. Come on; let's get you out of here."

He took my arm and led me back inside. I followed, stumbling slightly. Grue's cloud of shadows still rested, slowly fading, in a space near the center of the room, close to the door. The villain was still frozen, Sophia standing beside him. A tranquilizer dart was in her hand, ready to dose him the moment he unfroze.

Vista and Kid win had come in from outside—I figured they must have been outside to deal with any who tried to escape. I didn't see anything of Tattletale, Hellhound, or Circus. Regent was leaning by a pillar, still out cold. Trainwreck, too, was sitting unconscious against a wall.

Dennis, in Aegis' costume, was talking to a few PRT troopers near the door. The hostages huddled in a corner, with another trio of PRT troopers debriefing them.

All except one, a mousy-haired girl in jeans and a hoodie, who was sitting in a chair and seemed to be staving off questions by Glory Girl.

Panacea, I realized.

"Cn shfix mahed?" I asked Carlos.

He shook his head. "Panacea can't do brains," he said. "Besides, Piggot wants us back at base ASAP. Getting healed in the field is apparently worse for PR then getting healed the moment Panacea gets to HQ. Don't worry, she'll be following us there."

"Ah cnt debrf likthes. Wun be eblta tak."

I tipped over. Carlos caught me and held me up. "Easy there," he said. "Come on, let's get you to a van."

He led me outside and into the parking lot. There were a few PRT vans present, parked in a ring around the bank. There were also a few flashing lights every so often from cameras. Each one set me reeling slightly, the light lancing into my concussed brain like fire.

"Annatar!" one PRT trooper came up to me. "Your spear is still in my van."

"Sosmbox," I said.

"What?"

"Box."

"Let's get her to your van," Carlos said to the trooper, and the two of them, each to one side of me, led me toward the guy's van.

When I was in the back, i scrabbled around in my backpack until I found the mithril box I'd left. "Edrdlnc," I mumbled at it.

The Jewelry Box didn't open.

"Edrodlenc."

Nothing.

"Fuck."

"Annatar?"

I glanced back at Carlos. Right; I was supposed to be keeping my Rings secret anyway. Probably for the best that I hadn't managed to get at Vilya, even if it would clear my head.

"'Sfin," I told him. "We goin' bakka headqurts?"

"Soon," he promised. Then, to the PRT trooper, "Don't let her fall asleep. I'll get a Ward to relieve you in a moment. Call a medic immediately if she worsens."

"All right, Clockblocker," said the driver evenly. "But shouldn't Aegis be in command?"

"Consider this to have his authority. Ask him if you want."

"Edro a adlunk." I almost managed the command phrase.

Carlos glanced back at me, then at the trooper. "Another Ward or two will be with you shortly. Don't leave until at least one of us is there to keep Annatar awake."

"Iwonslepp," I promised, but Carlos was already gone. I shrugged and returned to my attempts to get at Vilya.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many thanks to @dwood15 for betareading. I'm currently part of his beta team for Tearing the Aeons, a Magic: The Gathering/Worm cross which is fairly lore-intensive, if you want to check that out.

-x-x-x-

"Aegis," said Piggot coldly. "You want to explain yourself?"

Carlos stood stiffly by my bedside. I was lying down swaddled in white bedclothes in the infirmary, my blurred vision barely allowing me to make out the shape of the woman by the door. I couldn't see her face clearly enough to tell her expression, but her tone made it was fairly clear that she wasn't smiling.

"I took the actions I deemed most likely to fulfill our mission objectives, Ma'am," said Aegis, his back straight as a board.

"Including sending an untested trial Ward in with a member of the team with whom she's known to have issues to infiltrate a hostage situation? You're going to need to walk me through that bit of reasoning."

"At least two of the enemy parahumans were largely unknown quantities. Tattletale is a combat thinker of unknown potential, and the mechanics of Hellhound's control over her minions are still unknown. I couldn't authorize a direct engagement, and maintaining a stalemate only allowed them further time to take advantage of their hostages. Since Annatar informed me that her stranger abilities defeated Tattletale's thinker rating, I opted to allow her to infiltrate. Rather than sending her alone, I sent the only other Stranger on the squad in with her. I stand by those decisions, Ma'am."

"You are aware of the procedures surrounding a hostage situation, Aegis?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then what would you say is the first step to that procedure?"

"Establish communications with the perpetrator, Ma'am."

"Is that what you did?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Why not?"

"Because this was not a conventional hostage situation, Ma'am. The Undersiders aren't desperate criminals with a bad case of tunnel vision like those protocols were designed for; they're trained parahuman combatants with at least one thinker. Given the unknowns surrounding Tattletale in particular, I made the call to forgo mediated negotiations as they may have been detrimental, and would have been dangerous."

"And sending in an infiltration team wasn't?"

"With all due respect, Ma'am, I trust Annatar and Shadow Stalker's abilities to infiltrate more than I trust myself to negotiate with a thinker of unknown capability," Aegis reported, his pose loosening slightly. "In addition, Annatar's shaker abilities were ideal for protecting hostages once she was able to get between them and the Undersiders."

Silence fell. I tried to blink the fog out of my eyes, and then clenched my eyes shut to try to ride out the headache.

"Ma'am?" Aegis said, his voice perfectly devoid of emotion. After a moment's silence he spoke again. "If there's nothing else, I'd like to give Annatar a chance to rest."

Piggot sighed. "You're right. Get out of here, all of you; we'll continue in my office."

After a short moment, I was alone in the medical wing.

I reached over to my bedside and picked up the Jewelry Box. I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself, and then spoke, clearly and firmly.

"Edro a adlenc."

The box snapped open.

Off came Nenya, and on went Vilya. My ring-bearing hand went straight to my pounding head, and I began to channel my power. Vilya's sapphire shone blue as its power flared, casting light which played on the walls of the room and shone even through my closed eyelids when I blinked.

Slowly, the pain receded and my vision cleared. With a snap, I shut the Jewelry Box.

I stared up at the ceiling, running through all that had happened in my head.

I'd had my first real experience in parahuman combat as part of a team, brought the wrong Ring to the fight, left both Aeglos and my box (not that I could have carried both them and Sophia regardless), gotten myself concussed, probably compromised the security of the Jewelry Box, and just generally made a fool of myself. I'd failed to capture an enemy cape even after knocking her out, and left Sophia to care for the hostages while I went in to fight even though I was the one suited for defense.

"Well, that could have gone better."

-x-x-x-

Panacea came in some time later. The light streaming in through the windows had changed slightly in quality as the sun began to sink low, taking on a faint golden tint. I'd been humming a tune idly, but stopped when the door opened.

"Annatar," she greeted, all business. "I can't fix your concussion—"

"No need," I interrupted, sitting up. "I dealt with it."

She blinked at me. "…You have a healing factor? No one told me."

"New power," I admitted. "I manifest them fairly often. And it's not a healing factor; it's healer-striker. Like you!"

She just stared at me. I watched her face as it shifted, lightning-fast, between expressions. A widening of the eyes, the faintest scowl, a clenched jaw, a slackening as of exhaustion, a pursing of lips, and finally, neutrality. Resignation.

"How does it work?" she asked eventually.

I considered. "I suppose I touch someone who..." I paused, thinking through my wording. "...who I know has something wrong with them," I continued slowly, "and then I focus on fixing that thing."

"You can do it to yourself?"

"Yeah. You can't?"

"No," Panacea shook her head. "I can't manipulate my own biology."

Manipulate my own biology. Not heal myself.

I considered her. "Do you have any injuries you want me to fix, then?" I offered.

"I'm all right," she said quickly. "Um, I should probably give you a diagnostic anyway. May I?"

I nodded, then pointed at my face. "Afraid you'll have to use my chin, unless you want me to undo the gauntlets."

"No, that's fine," she said, and set a finger against my skin.

I waited.

She frowned. "…That's weird," she mumbled.

"What is?"

"You definitely used powers to fix your concussion, and it's fixed, but…"

"But what?"

"Well, your gemma's… small, I guess."

I blinked at her. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not sure, although I admit I don't know much about the gemma. It's the part of the brain that manifests after trigger events. You've got one, but it's atrophied. With the lack of activity I'm seeing there, it seems… dead."

"…Should I be worried?"

"Probably not," Panacea said. "The gemma appears in a different place and manifests differently in every parahuman. I can only recognize it because it and the corona are the only parts of the brain that my power doesn't help me make heads or tails of. You clearly have powers, and some capes don't even have brains. You're probably fine. Uh, you do still feel like you have powers, right?"

"Definitely," I said, thumbing the cool band of Vilya on my finger.

"Well then. Should be fine."

I shrugged. "All right. So what's your diagnosis, doc?"

"Well, your concussion's healed," Panacea reported. "You had some bruising on your shoulder, probably from bouncing around in that tin can. I fixed it for you."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," said Panacea, then hesitated. "…Could you have fixed it yourself?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I didn't notice it because I haven't moved much since I fixed my concussion. In the future, so long as I'm conscious, you probably won't have to worry about me."

Panacea nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the help at the bank. I appreciate it."

I grimaced. "I could really have done better, but you're welcome."

Panacea stepped away from my bedside. "I'll let them know you're better," she said, "and then I've got to run. I should probably be headed home. Later, Annatar."

"See you, Panacea."

-x-x-x-

A few minutes later, I was standing across from Piggot's desk in her office. The whole scene deeply reminded me of my initial Wards interview. So much had happened; it was strange to think that was only two days ago.

This time, however, I was Piggot's subordinate, rather than someone she wanted on board. And by the grim frown on her face, she wasn't especially happy with me.

"Annatar," said Piggot, studying me over steepled fingers. "The medical staff have told me you've fixed your own concussion?"

I nodded. "It's a power on the Air module. It's actually Air's central power, I think."

"Central power?"

"Each of the Three has a theme," I explained—partly for Piggot's benefit, and partly to walk myself through what I'd only recently discovered. "Fire is strength, Water is protection. Air is healing."

"I thought Air was the master/striker one?"

Grimacing, I nodded. "I don't really know how that one ties in, honestly."

Piggot grunted. "Well, that doesn't matter. Do you know why I wanted to talk to you now, before I sent you home for the day?"

"No."

"No, Ma'am."

I twitched slightly, but nodded. "No, Ma'am. Sorry."

"You're new," Piggot said. "I'll forgive you not knowing procedure, so long as you learn—which is why we're going to have a conversation, now, instead of giving you a month's worth of console duty on top of the mandatory training hours you're going to receive."

I grimaced.

"Do you know what the first thing you did counter to protocol was, Annatar?"

I thought about it. "Using my new power to get to the bank," I guessed.

"Close," Piggot said. "Not waiting for clearance to do so before you did. You should have called console, or me, first. Do you know why?"

"So you can keep track of my powers?"

"That's a side benefit. No, it's so that our people don't see an unknown speedster approaching a combat zone and shoot on sight because a potentially hostile parahuman is running at them."

I twitched.

"You're fortunate your driver called ahead." Piggot told me. "Otherwise, you could have been covered in containment foam for the duration of the fighting. My job is to coordinate these things, and facilitate communication between on-the-ground leaders like Aegis, Annatar. I need to know about them."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What was your next mistake?"

"Charging at Trainwreck?"

Piggot nodded. "You left the hostages exposed," she said. "Shadow Stalker was nearby, but you were the one with the barriers, and you left them to engage an armored tinker in CQC. That's another mistake: don't engage power armor in CQC, unless you have a countermeasure. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"The hostages should have been your priority, not the enemy parahuman. Your job is, first and foremost, protecting innocent people, not taking in villains."

"Understood. Sorry."

"Just don't screw it up again." Piggot leaned forward. "Now, what was your last mistake?"

I blinked. "Um… Getting knocked out of my pursuit of Circus?"

"You shouldn't have been pursuing her in the first place," Piggot said darkly. "Your last mistake, Annatar, was staying in combat after sustaining a debilitating injury—namely, a serious concussion. That's the kind of thing that makes enemy parahumans assume you're a resilient brute, which makes them stop holding back. Which Circus then did. You were lucky not to sustain serious brain damage."

"It was a combat situation," I protested. "I couldn't just stop fighting—"

"When the options are withdraw or risk serious injury," Piggot said flatly, "I want you to choose to withdraw every time. Wards are not supposed to get killed in the line of duty, even here in Brockton Bay. You understand me?"

I gritted my teeth, then sighed and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. I'm not in the habit of explaining myself to my subordinates," Piggot said, "so don't expect me to explain next time. You're getting off easy because you've only been in the Wards for two days and if I had my way you'd still be in intensive training rather than going out into the field, if we had the facilities and weren't as understaffed as we are. Still, don't expect this again. Clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She nodded, and then sighed. "For the record," she added, "I applaud you on quick use of a new power. Getting yourself and Shadow Stalker to the combat zone was well done, although you should have called it in."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Piggot nodded. "All right," she said. "Do you plan to do any tinkering here tonight, or are you headed home?"

I considered. "Do you want me here for some reason?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I'll probably head home. Dad'll want to talk, and my plans can wait for tomorrow."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you start committing combat protocols to memory."

"I will."

"One more thing, Annatar," said Piggot just as I turned to leave. "You were using the Water module, correct?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

"I thought that gave you enhanced senses? Why didn't you detect Trainwreck and Circus?"

I grimaced. "Loophole in the power, I think. I'll need to do some testing." I bit my lip. "My current guess is that the power technically reveals the hidden, rather than just enhancing my senses—which means, basically, that it shows me more wherever I'm looking, but doesn't help me at all if I'm not looking. I was looking in at the lobby for the Undersiders. Once I found them, I stopped looking. Since I didn't think to check for other parahumans, I didn't find Circus and Trainwreck."

"That's… a bit arbitrary."

"Like I said, it's just my best guess. I still need to test it."

"See to that tomorrow, then, before you start tinkering."

"Yes, Ma'am. Anything else?"

"No, that'll do."

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Thanks to @dwood15 for betareading, and to the Cauldron discord for assisting in research. In particular, thanks to @Reyemile for assisting with research and writing of the first scene and mixed drinks in general.

-x-x-x-

Alex sat alone at the bar, at least one empty stool between him and the next person to either side. Around him, the Palanquin was practically screaming with activity. The music set the whole space rumbling, pounding with frantic energy, the bass making Alex's glass rattle.

He hated it, but he needed the distraction right now, and there was nothing like loud music to shut down bussing thoughts.

When he—well, she, she'd been in costume then—had come to en route to the Undersiders' lair, Tattletale had immediately called a halt.

"Can you walk?" she'd asked.

Alex had responded with an affirmative.

"Then start," Tattletale had ordered. "You're going to have to find your own way back to Coil."

So Circus had done just that. Her head had hurt—hell, it still hurt, even hours later—but she hadn't been unsteady or dizzy, so she'd figured she'd be fine.

Coil hadn't been at his base when she'd arrived. He'd come later, taken one look at her, and called her into his office.

It was there that she'd learned just how badly she'd fucked up.

"You are aware that I have informants in the PRT?" Coil had asked.

"Yes, sir," she'd replied.

"Let me tell you what those informants told me," he'd said grimly. "The girl in armor, Annatar, whom you struck with a sledgehammer directly to the head? She's now in their medical facilities for a possibly crippling concussion."

Circus' jaw had dropped open. "What?" she'd stammered. "But… she was a brute! She took a hammer to the side and got right back up!"

"Her armor is tinkertech," Coil had said flatly. "It defended her from the blow to her side, at least for the most part, but her head was not protected except by the helmet, which you struck hard enough to bring down a wall."

Circus had fallen into a chair at that point. "Oh, God," she'd said. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know," Coil had confirmed. "Don't worry; with luck, Annatar will make a full recovery and this will all blow over. If all else fails, I'll help you relocate and rebrand, as thanks for your assistance today."

His other operation must have gone off without a hitch, Alex thought, considering the drinks menu above the bar.

He flagged down the bartender—a woman with long black hair done up in a ponytail, with a white dress shirt and rolled sleeves.

"Old Fashioned, please," he said.

"Sure. You got a favorite bourbon?"

"The Pappy 20." It was, far and away, the most expensive drink on the menu.

The woman looked at him oddly. "…In a mixer? You sure? Seems like a waste."

"My money. I'll waste it how I want. Right now, I want Pappy 20 in an Old Fashioned."

The woman shrugged. "You got it. Gonna have to ask for the cash up front, though."

Alex pulled out his wallet, counted out $200, and handed it to the woman.

She slipped it into her register and set about making the drink. "I'm not going to ask where the money came from," she said casually. "Just going to ask: is it dirty enough that I need to worry about having it?"

"No," said Alex firmly. "Won't bring you any trouble. Got my word on that." For whatever that's worth.

"I'll trust you," said the woman. She began mixing the drink, pouring a middling amount of sugar into the glass and then fishing under the bar for bitters and fruit. "Not often I have someone spend that kind of money on anything, though. Something go wrong?"

Alex snorted. "The old 'sympathetic bartender' routine?"

"Not my fault if it works." She gave him a wink as she began to muddle the mixture in the bottom of his glass.

He sighed. "Did something I regret," he admitted. "But you figured that much out already, I'm sure."

"Not hard," said the woman. She carefully removed the orange rind from his drink and poured a generous helping of very expensive liquor.

"Thanks."

"Hey, like you said, your money. Hope it's worth it."

He puffed out a breath of air in an imitation of amusement. "Probably not," he said. "But hey. Never had a mixer this expensive before. It's novel."

"Novelty's worth something," the bartender allowed.

He considered her. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Melanie," she said. "Yours?"

"Alex."

"Nice to meet you. Feel free to spend hundreds at my bar anytime."

Alex chuckled. "I just might."

"Boss?" the bouncer came up behind him. The bartender looked up.

"Someone here to see you," he said shortly, glancing at Alex. "Said to tell you, uh, that she wasn't blinking."

Melanie frowned. "What'd she look like?"

"Little blond girl. Maybe eighteen, if that?"

"Tell me you're joking, Carl."

"Sorry, Boss."

"Fuck," said Melanie dryly. "Okay. Bad timing, but this is definitely important. Okay, Carl, I need you to send her up—with George, don't let her go wandering alone. But take about a minute before you do, all right? Stay in here for about a minute, then go out and send her up. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it."

"Good." Melanie gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, duty calls," she said, slipping a hand into her pocket, pulling out a phone.

"No problem," he said.

She dialed a number and put the receiver to her ear. "Sarah? Melanie. I need you to cover the bar for me. Get down here quickly. Good. Thanks."

Hanging up, she glanced at him. "Going to have to leave the bar unattended," she said. "Don't get any ideas about the Pappy, all right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Nice. Sorry to leave you hanging."

She strode out from behind the bar and headed upstairs.

Alex sighed, drained the rest of his drink, and left the bar himself. He headed for the bathroom and, after making sure he wasn't being watched, slipped into the ladies' room.

He entered a stall and activated his power. His navy-blue button-down and grey slacks disappeared, as did the bindings for his breasts and the sock in his underwear. Another activation, and she was in an unassuming black skirt and light blue blouse.

She hated going out as a civilian woman, but it would make the rest of this easier.

She slipped back out of the bathroom and leaned against a wall, idly tapping her foot to the rhythm of the bass as it thrummed through her being.

"Hey there sweetheart," said a guy as he slipped off the dance floor and took up a spot on the wall beside her. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Alex actually laughed. "That line ever actually work for you?" she asked.

He wasn't half bad-looking, honestly. Boyish blue eyes looked out from between a head of short blond hair and a carefully-trimmed beard. He wore a great deal of blue; a blue sport-coat over jeans.

The image was ruined, here in Brockton Bay, by the knowledge that handsome, wealthy, white Anglo-Saxon men were almost as likely to be Neo-Nazis as anything else.

"You might be surprised," he said lightly. "It's an oldie, but a goodie. Question stands, though. You're looking awfully lonely, here."

"Appearances can be deceiving," she said.

"They can. Are they? You still shopping, or have you already picked who you're going home with tonight?"

She gave the guy a dry glance. "You and I," she said dryly, "are looking for very different things tonight. Just move on; you'll have more time to try with girls who are actually up for it."

He sighed. "So quick to judge."

"I've been hit on before," she said coolly. "You weren't the worst, and I might've entertained you if I were in the mood. I'm not. Give it up, buddy."

"Fair enough," he said, moving away. Finally. There were a few reasons she went male as a civilian and female in costume.

And there was the bouncer, coming through the door now, a familiar blonde girl following behind. She was wearing a green dress which hugged her curves nicely and left her shoulders bare. She was a little overdressed for the Palanquin, but then, she wasn't here for the club.

Alex noticed that she had freckles on her face. She hadn't seen those before.

No, she was here for protection.

Alex pushed off the wall and casually, keeping her distance, followed the girl and the bouncer until he'd led her to a stairwell. Then the girl stopped the guy and pointed back at her.

Alex waved and approached.

"Hello," said the girl in green.

"Hey," said the woman in blue.

"You two know each other?" the bouncer asked.

"Oh, yes," said the girl in green, an odd smile on her face. "Co-workers, you could say. A shared employer."

"Can you let her know I'd like a word too?" Alex asked the girl in green.

"Sure," she replied. "I'm sure she'll be happy to accommodate."

After that, the girl in green was led upstairs. Alex settled against the wall again to wait.

After a few minutes, George the bouncer came back down. "Boss says to come up," he said.

Alex followed him up the stairs and into a sort of VIP room. The music was muted here by the separation, although it was still loud. Booths lined the walls, and in one, a few girls were lying slumped around a boy, about seventeen, who seemed quite happy to be surrounded by him.

His skin was orange.

Alex followed the bouncer down the hall and into the office of the club's proprietor.

Tattletale smiled up at her as she entered, those green eyes sparking with mischief. "Nice of you to join us," she said.

Alex didn't smile back. Instead, she looked at Faultline, whose mask was now firmly in place. When George, after a gesture from the mercenary, closed the door, Alex spoke. "Hello again, Melanie," he said.

Faultline nodded. "Alex," she said. "Or do you prefer Circus?"

"Circus in costume," she said. "Alex in civvies."

"Even when you're slumming it with us girls?" Tattletale asked lightly.

"Even then," said Alex.

"So," said Faultline. "Tattletale, I hope you don't mind if I deal with this first, but Alex. That 'thing you regret doing?' Might that be almost braining a fucking Ward earlier today?"

Alex twitched. "I thought she was a brute," she said.

"She is," Tattletale said. "But only because of the armor."

"I got that, thanks."

"So why are you here?"

"Almost killing someone has a way of making you rethink your life, yeah?" Tattletale offered.

Alex nodded. "No matter how bad what I did today was," she said evenly, "what Coil did was worse. It… put things in perspective."

"Yeah," said Tattletale. "For me, it was the fact that, without Grue or Regent, I'm more useful to him as a basement thinker than in the field. I really don't want to be holed up in that creep's basement, if that's all the same to everyone."

"Back up," said Faultline. "Alex. What did Coil do?"

"The bank job was a distraction," said Alex. "Coil knew the Protectorate would be out of the Bay today, so he hired us and the Undersiders to get the Wards busy on a high-profile crime. Meanwhile, his guys kidnapped a middle-school girl from her campus."

"You're kidding."

"No," Tattletale confirmed, looking slightly sick. "Holy shit, she's a thinker, isn't she?"

"A precog," Alex said. "He's going to keep her locked in his basement, drugged to the gills, and feeding him predictions."

"And that's what he'd have done to me."

"If he felt the Undersiders weren't useful anymore… yeah, probably."

"Fuck," said Faultline. "Look, Tattletale, I'm a mercenary—"

"You're a bleeding heart and you know it," Tattletale snapped. "Look, Faultline, I don't much like you, but you're my best shot at freedom. I'm not going to the Wards, it's not safe enough.. Every other group in the city is either too horrible to consider or in Coil's pocket. If you don't help me, you're consigning me to Coil's fucking basement."

Faultline gritted her teeth. "And you, Alex?" she asked. "What do you want out of this?"

"Out," said Alex simply. "There's not much I won't do, but killing people's one of them. Another is keeping a little girl drugged out of her mind. You take me, I'll help you on any job you name that isn't one of those things or worse."

"We don't do worse," said Faultline flatly. "So… fuck. Fine. But we need to plan. Coil's never been as minor as the heroes like to think he is, and if he has a precog now I don't like our chances."

"Don't worry, Faultline," said Tattletale smugly. "Planning's my specialty. Since we all know each other's names now… I'm Lisa. Lisa Wilbourn."

"Melanie Fitts."

"Alex Farrell."

Lisa laughed aloud. "Don't you love how we're all using assumed names?" she asked.

Melanie glared at her, then turned to Alex. "Lisa's useless without information," she said. "So talk to us, Alex. What do we have on Coil?"

And Alex began to tattle.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Many thanks to @dwood15 for betareading.

-x-x-x-

Sophia was playing with one of her crossbows when I entered the lobby, flipping it over in her hand like a cowboy with a revolver from an old western. She glanced up as I stepped in. None of the other Wards were here.

"Hebert," she greeted.

"Hess."

We were out of costume. My armor was secure in my locker; her suit, I imagined, was packed into the duffel at her feet.

"You weren't half bad at the infiltration," Sophia said casually.

"Fuck you," I grunted without looking at her.

"What? I'm serious, Hebert!"

I glanced at her, frowning. "I got myself concussed and didn't stay over the hostages, Sophia," I said flatly. "I went in without a weapon and almost got myself killed. I fucked up hard."

Sophia snorted. "You couldn't have carried that giant spear and me anyway," she said. "And you just kept getting up. Circus wasn't holding back, but you just took it like a champ. That was impressive; none of the pussyfooting around the others do all the time. Even Aegis, and he's supposed to be able to take that kind of thing."

I sighed. "Piggot yelled at me over that," I said dryly. "Said I should have fallen out of combat once I was injured."

"Fuck her," said Sophia succinctly. "How does she think people fight against Endbringers? By retreating and running away? Bull. If you can fight, you keep fighting until you can't anymore."

I considered her. She wasn't looking at me now, instead studying the polished wood of her crossbow's handle.

"You were an independent before you joined the Wards, right?" I asked.

"You know I was."

"What was that like?"

Sophia snorted. "Hell of a lot better than this shit," she said dryly. "None of the bullshit oversight, no one holding me back. I could just buckle down and get shit done. I cleaned more scum off the streets in three months as an independent than I have in more than a year as a Ward."

"When did you trigger?" I asked.

Sophia stiffened.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you really going to get squeamish about your trigger? To me?"

"…I was twelve."

"Hm."

"Only went out in costume after I turned thirteen, though."

"Still pretty young."

"I guess."

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was back to flipping her crossbow in her hand, watching the light of the sinking sun playing on the wood as it streamed in through the windows.

"Did you get lonely?" I asked. "As an independent?"

She didn't look at me. "I don't get lonely, Hebert," she said evenly. "I work best on my own."

All lies. I changed the subject. "Where are the others?"

"They all live in the south bay," Sophia said. "There's a shuttle for them."

A door opened behind me. I craned my neck about to see an orderly in a PRT uniform. "Sophia," he said, "your stepfather is here."

I turned back to Sophia, saw her tightly clenched jaw. "Right," she said. "Later, Hebert."

I watched her walk past me, toward the door. Just before she stepped out, I called after her, "Sophia!"

She turned her head my way.

"We work well together. Looking forward to continuing."

She was perfectly still for a moment, and then her lips twitched, as though she was trying not to smile. "Same here, Taylor."

-x-x-x-

"They told me you had a concussion. Are you okay?"

These were the first words out of my dad's mouth when he arrived to pick me up on the Rig.

"I'm fine, Dad," I reassured him as he led me into the car. "I healed it. I'm okay."

"What happened, anyway?" he asked. "I was in a meeting; They left a message and promised to call the moment you were diagnosed. When they did, you were better. Spill."

"The Undersiders robbed Brockton Bay Central Bank," I explained. "The Protectorate was out of town, so the Wards got called in. This villain, Circus, in a clown costume—she hit me in the face with a sledgehammer."

Dad twitched. His grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles were white. "You were hit in the face with a sledgehammer?"

"I was in armor!" I defended. "My head bounced around in my helmet a bit, but it was fine—"

"You know that can be fatal, don't you, Taylor?" my Dad asked, his voice rising. "This isn't just something you can shrug off! You might have died!"

I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. There was silence for a moment.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I screwed up several times today. I made a lot of mistakes. I almost paid for it. I'm sorry, Dad."

"Don't be—" he cut himself off. "You promised me you'd be careful. They promised me you'd be careful!"

"Yeah. I screwed up. I'm sorry. It's not Piggot's fault; I broke procedure."

My Dad sighed. "…Don't be sorry," he said at length. "Don't. You're new to this, and I know you'd never be happy if you didn't feel like you were helping. Just… please. Be careful. You know I can't lose you."

"I know. I'll do better."

He glanced over at me with a wan smile. "I know you will."

I reached out and touched his shoulder. He reached up and took my hand in his.

"Want to go out to eat tonight?" he suggested.

"Sure. Italian?"

"Sounds like a plan."

-x-x-x-

Clang. Clang.

The hammer fell on the mithril anvil, each rhythmic beat producing a sound like a ringing bell.

It was Friday, and I was back in PRT Headquarters.

Clang. Clang.

Carlos, in costume, slipped into my workshop. "Annatar."

"Aegis."

Clang.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Sure." I set down the hammer and turned off the plasma forge—borrowed from Chris—that I was using to heat the metal I was working with. Turning away from my anvil, I faced my team leader. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk about yesterday."

I nodded. "I figured," I said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for screwing up."

He blinked at me. "Screwing up?" he asked. "You did fine. No one's perfect. You managed to take Regent out of the fight before we even got started; that's as much as anyone was expecting from you and Stalker."

I grimaced. "I also almost got myself killed," I said. "And screwed up on procedure at least three times."

Carlos shrugged his wide shoulders. "Protocol's important," he allowed, "but so's our job. Sometimes you have to do things against protocol to get the bad guy or protect an innocent. When that happens, it's Piggot's job to yell at us over it, and it's my job to take the fall for you, if you have to do that. So don't worry too much about it. Stick to protocol when you can, but remember that it can't have a plan for every situation."

I nodded slowly. "I… think I can understand that," I said. "Say… what do you think of Piggot?"

He sighed. "Off the record? I don't like her, on a personal level," he admitted. "But I don't have to like her to respect her. She's been in the business for a long time, fighting people worse than I ever want to meet for more than a decade. She knows what she's doing, and she knows how to use people effectively to do what needs to be done. I can respect that."

"She's a skilled leader."

"A skilled director, at least. I don't know that they're the same thing," Aegis said. "I lead the squad, and that's one skill. She leads the whole PRT on the scale of the city. I have a feeling it's a little different. I know she was a PRT squad leader at some point, but I don't know how she was then."

I nodded. "That's fair," I agreed. "Do you ever see yourself in her role? As a leader on that scale, directing large groups?"

"No, thanks," he chuckled. "I'm happy where I am. I'm graduating pretty soon, but if I can just lead a local protectorate team by the end of my career I'll be happy. I don't see myself ousting Legend."

"Yeah," I agreed teasingly. "I can't see you ousting Legend either."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, now what's that supposed to mean?"

I smiled at him and took up my hammer again. "Oh, nothing."

"I'm still in charge of you, you know. I can have you on console duty for a week, no questions asked."

"Yeah?" I grinned. "Then I guess you won't be seeing me in action with my new gear anytime soon."

"New gear?"

Clang. "I couldn't—" clang "—carry Sophia—" clang "—and bring—" clang "—Aeglos to—" clang "—the fight." Clang.

"So?"

"So—" clang "—I'm making—" clang "—something more—" clang "—portable."

I pulled the hammer away, lifted the weapon into the air, and then quickly sank it into the ice water bath beside my anvil. It hissed and steamed.

I'd asked for an ice water bath before, when I was making my gauntlets. The PRT had done what I should have expected—poured tap water into a vat, and stuck it into a refrigerator for a few hours overnight.

Today, I'd instead been more careful. "Iced spring water," I'd requested. "Pure as you can find."

The water was clear, cold, and above all, pure.

I withdrew the now-cooled steel blade. It shone like cold fire, reflecting the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and the red heat of the forge in twin colors of flame. I quickly connected it to the hilt and struck it once with my hammer, watching as the components fused, suffused with my powers.

Then I held up the completed--if untempered--sword, and spoke.

"I dub thee Narsil," I said softly, and pain skidded across my Ring-finger, at the knuckle, like hot fire. "The Red Flame and the White Flame. May thy edge never dull, nor thy blade never break, while the hand of the sons of Númenor guide thee. May you be a hot death to all that is evil, and a warm protector to all that is good."

The sword, thus named, blazed with light. Something bittersweet rose up in me, like a memory of a dream forgotten. A hint of pain mingled with respect, like a salute to a powerful foe.

I dismissed the hammer and anvil and shut off the forge, then stepped away from it. Slowly I swung the glistening blade through the air, shearing through the space with a faint whistling. Once, twice, thrice. With each swing, pain shot through my finger--fierce and cold on the first swing, duller and throbbing on the second, and by the third it was numb, like an old wound long scarred over.

Narsil. The Blade of Kings.

"What was that?" Aegis asked softly.

"What was what?" I asked.

He stared at me. I stared back.

"…Nothing," he said, looking away from me and at the sword. "…Narsil, you said?"

"Yes. The Red and White Flame, in Quenya." I carefully, almost nervously, ran my finger along the flat of the blade. It rang against my gauntlet in a clear, cold note.

"…Does all your tinkertech have names like that?"

"Not all," I admitted as I fiddled with the automatic forge to produce a torch for tempering. "My armor doesn't. But most of it. My modules do, for one."

"What are they called?"

I bit my lip. "'Fire' is Narya," I said. "For nár, which means, well, fire. 'Water' is Nenya, for nén, which means water. 'Air' is Vilya, for víl…"

"Which means air?"

"Which isn't actually a word," I acknowledged. "It's the root of several words which tie to air, including, well, vilya itself."

He considered me. "This is a real language?"

"Depends on what you mean," I said. The forge was heating again. I brought the blade towards the flame and the flat began to heat again as I began to temper the metal. "It's a complete language, but as far as I know, I'm the only speaker. Same for Sindarin, Khuzdul, and Valarin."

"Your powers just gave you four languages to speak for some reason?"

I sighed. "Aegis, Lung turns into a dragon. I'm not the weirdest cape out there."

Even as I said it, though, I was wondering. The oddities of my powers were only part of it. Panacea had said my gemma, the part of my brain that was supposed to control my powers, looked dead. Sure, sometimes they looked different, but mine looked dead. What did that mean?

If the part of my brain that was supposed to give me superpowers was dead, how did I have them? If it was giving me superpowers despite being dead, what did that mean? Dead tissue doesn't do a whole lot, so if the tissue was dead, but the effect was still observed, what was going on behind the scenes?

"Yeah, I suppose," Carlos admitted, standing up from the seat he'd taken in the corner. "Anyway, any chance you can kit the rest of us with some of your armor? That mithril kept you pretty safe in the last fight, even if it didn't totally stop the sledgehammer."

"Yeah," I agreed, shaking off my thoughts. "I'll start with Vista, probably, since you and Sam are both brutes, Sophia's a breaker, and Chris and Dean both have power armor. It's hard, because her outfit's too tight to really fit chainmail under, but I don't want to mess with her image by just giving her platemail like mine."

"Talk to her," Carlos suggested. "And the PR guys. They'll be able to figure out a design that works."

"Good idea," I said. "I'll do that."

"Oh, and Chris really wants to tinker with you tonight or tomorrow," Aegis added. Then he grimaced. "And the way I said that makes me think of something very different."

I chuckled. "Not in favor of fraternization?"

"Not in favor of getting involved," he stressed. "Look, you and Chris do whatever you want, and feel free to not tell me about any of it. In fact, consider that an order."

I laughed aloud. "Sir, yes sir," I agreed. "First things first, though…." I considered Narsil, the flat beginning to glow with heat again. "I need a scabbard, once this is done. Know where I can find some leather?"

End Arc 2: Twinkle

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 21, 2017

Thanks to @dwood15 for betareading, and to the Cauldron discord for research assistance.

-x-x-x-

"For more than a decade, the city of Brockton Bay has been divided. Gangs and other criminals have grown and run rampant, and only the heroic efforts of the Protectorate, PRT, and Wards have held them at bay…."

I shuffled into the green conference room, rubbing Narya as it rested on my gauntleted finger. The conference itself had barely started; some guy in a suit was behind the podium, talking nonsense about the PRT's longstanding efforts against the gangs and criminal elements of Brockton Bay, and the assistance provided by the Protectorate and Wards program. It was mostly empty filler, and I immediately tuned it out. Now I was just waiting for him to step off and let the actual talk start.

"Relax, Annatar," said Aegis as he passed by me from behind, putting a hand on my pauldron for a moment while he was near me. "You'll do fine."

I sighed. "Thanks, Aegis."

"You're clear on what questions you can answer?" asked Derek Mills, the PR guy who'd been coaching me in preparation for this event and the interviews which would surely follow.

"Crystal," I confirmed dryly. "We've only drilled it a million times."

"It's easy to lose your head up there," he cautioned.

"We've only drilled that half a million times. Maybe we should go through it a few more?"

Aegis snorted, taking a seat on the couch. "You'll be fine," he repeated. "Come on, sit down. Have some crackers."

I grumbled inaudibly as I left the center of the room and took a seat on the couch beside him. I palmed one of those fancy round crackers from the coffee table and garnishing it with a slice of cheddar.

"How do you stay so calm?" I asked him as I prepared my snack.

Aegis shrugged. "This isn't my first public event," he said, dipping a piece of celery into peanut butter.

"I know." I rolled my eyes. "And you know that's no answer." I bit down on my cracker. It wasn't half bad.

He crunched down on the celery, chewed, and swallowed. "Just picture them naked," he suggested.

"Does that work?"

"Not at all. Unless you're Clockblocker. The rest of us just get embarrassed, on top of being nervous."

I giggled. "You're no help."

"It's starting," said Mills.

The windows behind the podium provided a pleasant view of the city hall's courtyard behind Armsmaster and Piggot as they walked onto the stage and took their position at its center. Piggot took the microphone and lectern, setting a slim portfolio of notes on it as Armsmaster took a position slightly behind and to her right.

"Thank you, Mr. Harvey, for the introduction," Piggot said, and I could just barely detect the sarcasm under her businesslike tone. "Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, the parahuman Lung, leader of the criminal organization colloquially called the 'ABB,' was apprehended by Armsmaster one week ago. Armsmaster, if you would?"

They switched places, Piggot falling back slightly to allow Armsmaster a spot at the lectern.

"Thank you, Director," Armsmaster said. "It should come as no surprise that, as leader of the ENE branch of the Protectorate, I've been working on a way to neutralize Lung for some time. My research met with success several weeks ago in the form of specific weaponry designed to counteract Lung's regeneration. I was given the opportunity, last Sunday, to field that weaponry. It was demonstrably effective. However, to take full credit for the operation would be dishonest. I received assistance from an independent parahuman who encountered Lung earlier that night."

"Was it New Wave?" A woman in the crowd hollered.

"We'll be taking questions at the end of the conference," said Armsmaster, "but I can answer that one. No, it was not New Wave. It was a solitary, independent hero, hitherto largely unknown. We have her here this afternoon to talk to you, but before we get to that, Director?"

They switched places again.

"Thank you, Armsmaster," said Piggot. "The new parahuman, under the cape name 'Annatar' first surfaced preventing a robbery by the Undersiders last Saturday. The following night, she called in a report of Lung planning the murder of a group of children. Armsmaster was deployed to assist, and they worked together to bring Lung to justice."

"If she could fight Lung," objected a guy with a rather annoyingly shrill voice, "how come we haven't heard of her?"

"No questions, please." Piggot gave the guy a scorching glare. "Annatar, being underage, approached the PRT later last week about joining the Wards program. She was then accepted as a trial member. Her primary classifications are tinker and trump."

"Time to head backstage," said Aegis, nudging me.

I nodded and stood up. "Notify my next of kin," I said, and followed Mills out of the green room, leaving my team leader chuckling behind me.

Piggot was still talking, only now I could hear her from the stage directly, rather than over the microphone. "Annatar was also instrumental in the Wards' operation on Thursday, when the villainous group known as the Undersiders, accompanied by the solo villains Circus, and Trainwreck held up and robbed Brockton Bay Central Bank. Through the Wards' efforts, three of the six attacking villains were captured during the operation, and are currently in PRT custody."

Mills and I came to a halt in the wings. I could see Piggot and Armsmaster facing the crowd, lit from behind by the sunlight and from the front by electric lighting, but I couldn't see the throng of reporters from here.

I knew they were there, though. I knew it all too well. Narya might bolster my image, but it didn't cure stage fright.

"For the purposes of her introduction as a new hero in Brockton Bay's roster," Piggot said, "we've asked her to come forward here today, publicly. So, without further ado, please welcome Annatar."

I strode forward, trying to keep my steps even and my stride natural, even as the applause rang out.

I reached Armsmaster and Piggot far too slowly for my comfort, which suggested that I'd done it about right. I shook the director's hand and took the central position behind the lectern.

The PRT's image department knew that sometimes, childlike nerves could work really well for a Ward. Not so for me. I was a knight in shining armor, a girl who strode into battle with spear and sword (assuming I could get that approved). Nerves didn't mesh with that, nor with the fact that I'd apparently been one of two people involved in the operation to bring in Lung. I needed to project confidence and presence. Which, of course, was why I was wearing Narya.

I cleared my throat, adjusted the microphone, promised myself one last time not to stutter, and began.

"Thank you for the warm welcome." My voice resounded through the auditorium. "I'm sure you all have questions, and I'll do my best to answer them when the time comes, but first, let me cover the basics to save us all some time.

"You can call me Annatar. I'm a tinker-trump, with a focus on what, for lack of a better term, we've been calling 'powered items.' Each object I build tends to have some sort of internal power, similar to the effects of a parahuman power. My spear, for example, chills substances it penetrates to temperatures far below freezing.

"As a Ward, I look forward to contributing to the safety and security of Brockton Bay and its people. I'll be working under Aegis to keep this city safe, and I intend to bring whatever I can to the field to achieve that. I'll be taking a few questions now."

Instant clamoring. Every reporter and their mother seemed to want my attention, and was determined to get it, by hook or by crook. The space was filled with the sound of shouting and the waving of raised hands. I randomly pointed at one in the middle of the left-hand side.

"Jonathan Schmidt, CNN," he introduced. "Can you tell us anything about the other 'powered items' you've made?"

I nodded. "Well, my armor qualifies," I answered, gesturing at my platemail. "It's durable on a level beyond most tinkers' power armor, although that doesn't necessarily translate directly to more protection." As I found out; thank you, Circus. "It appears to be nearly indestructible by conventional means, to the point that it's impervious even to most forms of study. It, like many of the other objects I make, is composed of a metal I transmute from other substances, which I call mithril."

More hands, more yelling. I picked another. "Candice Williams, Brockton Report; this 'mithril,' can you tell us more about its capabilities?"

I shrugged. "It's nearly impossible to damage, and only I can create it," I said. "We're still testing it to determine its chemical and physical properties, if that's what you're asking. Once we know more about it, I'll likely be collaborating with other tinkers to phase in mithril versions of existing gear. I've already been approached about the possibility of a collaboration with Dragon to industrially produce the substance."

I privately had my doubts about whether that would work—call it a hunch—but I wasn't to say that to the reporters.

More hands went up, and again, there was the shouting. I pointed at one guy whose green suit stood out.

"Albert Barrows, Parapeople Magazine," he said. "Is it true that you and Shadow Stalker are romantically involved?"

My jaw tightened, my teeth clenched. My throat worked there uselessly for a moment, unable to push my mouth open. The practiced smile felt stapled on my face. It was at least a couple seconds before my jaw loosened enough to allow me to speak, and a couple more before I'd found an answer.

"You know," I said coolly, "I almost wish I could see her response to that. No, it's not true. And I'll be looking at PHO to see where that nonsense came from."

I pointed at another reporter. "Please make this one a useful question," I requested dryly.

She smiled slightly. "Of course. Sarah Churchill, Brockton Times. Can you give us any details on how you assisted in the capture of Lung?"

I nodded. "Obviously I can't say too much," I said. "But the basics? I found him, planning to attack some kids, and called the PRT immediately. Then I created a distraction and led him in Armsmaster's direction. Most of what I did was bait him and take a couple of hits to keep him busy."

Piggot rapped on the side of my backplate with a fingernail. I nodded minutely.

"That's all I have time for today, I'm afraid," I said. "I'll be running an AMA on the PHO forums sometime this week, though, so any questions I missed now will hopefully be addressed then. Until then, however, I'll hand this back to Director Piggot."

I stood aside and walked offstage to the sound of applause. Mills led me back into the green room silently, and Aegis was waiting there, a wide smile shifting the shape of his mask.

"Great job, Annatar," he said.

I crossed the room and collapsed bonelessly into the couch. "I hope I never have to do that again," I moaned.

"Sorry to say," Aegis chuckled, "but you're a hero now. PR's part of our shtick. Should've gone rogue if you didn't want to deal with it. It's the only way to maintain the adulation of the adoring masses, after all."

"Bah," I grumbled. "they don't want heroes; they want celebrities."

"Same thing, in their minds," said Aegis dryly.

I sighed. "Heroing sounded different from the outside," I whined. "I imagined it as more, well, heroic. Going out, stopping the bad guys, saving people, rescuing kittens from trees…"

"Yeah?" Aegis asked sardonically. "You want that kind of life? Step one: Be Scion. There is no step two."

I laughed. "Yeah, the golden guy has it made, doesn't he?"

"Anyway," said Aegis, taking a seat beside me, "You've been holding out on me, Annatar. What's this I hear about you and Shadow Stalker? I'd never have thought it of you, really."

My face fell like a boat going over Niagara Falls. "Okay," I said flatly. "You're an ass."

Aegis just laughed. "Hey, better you than me," he said. "In fact, thanks for taking some of the heat off. They'd basically moved on from shipping her with Dennis and transferred it over to me until you were seen carrying her halfway across town on Thursday. I appreciate your sacrifice."

"Someone recorded that?"

"You need to visit PHO more. Everyone recorded it. No one knew who you were, but everyone saw a hero in armor run through town with Shadow Stalker in her arms. Played hell with her lone badass image, believe me."

I leaned back into the cushions and massaged my temples. "Well, at least I'm making trouble for her," I said dryly. "That's one good thing to come out of this."

"Hey, you never know," he said lightly. "Maybe the two of you will come to another understanding."

"Oh, not you too!"

-x-x-x-

Feel free to visit my Patreon. Many thanks to those who have already pledged.

Radek · Jun 22, 2017

Welcome to SV then. May the varied audience across two boards fan the flames of creativity.

Lithos Maitreya · Jun 23, 2017

I FORGOT TO UPDATE ON THE NEW SITE LEL. Many apologies.

Thanks to @dwood15 for betareading. In addition, thanks to @Technetium43 (Not at all sure this is the same person...) for confirmation on Piggot's characterization.

-x-x-x-

"Come in," Piggot called.

I opened the door and slipped into the office. "Director," I said with a deferential nod.

"Annatar." She beckoned me towards her desk.

I approached and sat. "How did I do at the conference, Ma'am?"

"Not terribly," she said frankly. "Your prepared speech wasn't half bad. I appreciate the effort you went to remain respectful of Aegis' leadership of the team."

"I'm not here to poach his position, Ma'am. How were my responses to questions?"

"Too jargonistic and detailed," Piggot said. "You shouldn't go into so much detail over your tinkertech; they're laymen, not cape researchers, tinkers, or power testers. You didn't give away anything classified, though. We'll just chalk it up to another tinker quirk."

I twitched slightly, my pride stinging, but accepted the criticism.

"The only response I'd actually object to is how you handled the question about Shadow Stalker," she told me. "There's no good way to respond to those questions, I'll admit, but in general the image department recommends you answer with a no comment."

"I'm not going to let them believe I'm fu—having sex with Sophia!"

Piggot's gaze sharpened. "Don't be stupid, Annatar. All you did was show them that you had a strong reaction to the idea, which will only fuel speculation."

I stared at her incredulously. "So… what? I should just let them assume something like that?"

"You're a public figure now, Ward," said Piggot flatly. "Better get used to it. It shouldn't matter, anyway."

"I'd rather not have people think I'm sleeping with her!"

"You're a cape. You're automatically a celebrity, and that means people will make things up about you. Better learn to deal with it."

I sighed and put my gauntleted hand to my forehead. I rested my head against it for a moment before looking back at her. "Yes, Ma'am," I said. "Sorry."

She gave me a look. "I haven't had to tell you the same thing twice," she said. "See to it that doesn't change."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Anything else you needed?"

"I was wondering what the image department's decided on my sword?"

Piggot's jaw tightened. "I don't like it," she said flatly. "Your spear had a dull haft, which made it easy to justify as a nonlethal weapon."

"My sword has a flat."

"And you can guarantee you'll only hit people with it?"

I pursed my lips. "I won't use my sword if I can't take a risk of injuring someone, and I won't hit anywhere that would be fatal."

"You'd better not," she said darkly. "The image department has agreed to let you take the thing into the field, once you've seen a seminar on safe weapon use, and been through a competence test with a professional."

"The seminar's online, right?"

"Yes. You should be able to access it from the PRT website. We'll schedule an aptitude test once you've gone through that. Anything else?"

"I was wondering if I could get Vista a knife," I said quickly. I hadn't mentioned it to the girl herself yet, but one of my blueprints--a mithril knife, about a foot and a half long--had struck me as perfect for her.

Piggot's lips thinned. "Vista is a powerful shaker," she said without inflection. "She can take care of herself."

"Unless she encounters a trump, or a cape who counters her," I said. "Director, she doesn't have any armor or weapons, and her shaker ability is manton-limited. I'm still looking into making plating which fits with her aesthetic—and the others'—but I don't like her being in combat without any backup weapons."

"Talk to Mills," Pigggot deflected. "It's more an image department affair than mine."

"And if the image department okays it, you'll let me make her a knife?"

"I didn't say that," said Piggot coolly. "I'll think about it, Annatar."

"Director," I said, exasperated. "Why—"

She interrupted me by rapping hard on the desk with two fingers. "I said," she said coldly, "I'll think about it."

I grimaced and nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

She nodded tersely. "Your collaboration with Kid Win," she changed the subject. "How is that coming along?"

"We've only just started," I said. "We're still mostly brainstorming right now. He wants to reinforce the plating of his hoverboard first, and maybe use mithril mirrors in his laser weapons. I was going to get started on the components after I talked to you."

"You'd best get on that, then," Piggot ordered. "Clear any equipment you two produce with me before fielding it."

"Yes, Ma'am." I stood up, turned about, and left. I recognized a dismissal when I heard one.

I knew Piggot meant well. I knew she was just trying to juggle a lot of different responsibilities. I knew she wasn't trying to make trouble for me.

But I couldn't help the sour taste in my mouth as I walked out.

-x-x-x-

"Pass me the needlenose, would you?"

I glanced up from my anvil, bemused. "Needlenose?"

"The long pliers," Chris said, his gaze intent on the tangle of cabling behind the open panel on his hoverboard. "The ones with the red handles."

I glanced around, found the tool and passed it over to him. "Why are there so many kinds of pliers, anyway?"

"Leverage and fine manipulation," Chris said absently as he reached into the workings with the device and began pulling looped wires off of circuit boards. "Needlenoses are good for reach when you need to get deep into a piece of equipment. How's the plating coming?"

"The bottom's almost done," I said, shifting the red-hot mithril on the anvil. "You want bladed edges?"

He bit his lip for a moment, considering, then shook his head. "Nah," he decided. "Don't want to accidentally hurt someone. Just making it practically indestructible is plenty."

"Cool."

My hammer continued to fall, beating the plate of mithril into the shape Kid Win had requested.

"So how's tinkering work for you?" Chris asked between clangs of metal on metal.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you just, understand how certain things fit together? That's how it is for me. I get these ideas, for power generators, or antigravity fields, and then I have to make those work together to produce something I can actually use. When I can focus long enough to get it done."

"It's not like that for me," I admitted. "I just… I feel like I know my stuff. Narsil and Aeglos both popped into my head fully formed, and I just built them according to blueprints in my head."

It wasn't quite that simple. I was starting to understand something of the power that was folded into the weapons and Rings I had made. It lingered, hidden in some fogbound corner of my mind, like a scrap of a song half remembered. But it wasn't enough, not by half. If I had to learn on my own, without any help, it'd be decades before I was ready to create anything on the scale of Narsil without a blueprint already prepared.

Chris glanced over at me. "What do you do when you run out of blueprints?"

I chuckled. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," I said. "Maybe in a few centuries."

"Oh. That's… a lot of blueprints."

"Yeah."

"And they're all complete pieces?"

I nodded.

"I'm jealous," Kid Win said frankly. "I can't even finish half the projects I start."

I blinked at him, my hammering slowing momentarily. "Why not?"

He didn't look at me. "Trouble focusing," he said shortly. "ADHD."

I winced. "That must suck."

"It does."

I didn't push him. "What made you decide to join the Wards, Chris?"

He shrugged. "It was kind of an impulse thing for me," he admitted. "I got my powers and just… didn't know what to do. They didn't fix any of my problems; just added more. My parents freaked out, I freaked out, and I was in the Wards before I had time to think about it."

I considered him. "You ever regret it?"

"No." He shook his head firmly. "I like the Wards. We make a difference, we get to work with experienced heroes, there's a whole organization dedicated to helping us do our jobs and get home safe at the end of the day. I want to be a hero, but I also want to, you know, not die. The Wards don't ask me to. Independence might."

I nodded slowly. "I can understand that," I lied, and returned to my forging, trying to ignore the little voice that had translated his entire spiel into a single word—coward.

"What about you?" Chris asked. "You were independent for a while first, right? Helped Armsmaster bring in Lung."

I nodded. "I needed a team," I said. "I can only use one module at a time, so I needed people I could trust to use the others. The Wards and Protectorate were the best way to build a network."

"So you're not planning on keeping all your modules to yourself?"

"Not indefinitely," I said. "I don't know who I'm going to give them to yet, though."

"I'll, uh, pass, if it's all the same to you," Chris said, his voice low. "I can't even use my powers. It'd be a shame to waste yours."

I grimaced and took one hand off the plate to pat him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll make it work eventually," I said.

He went back to his tinkering without replying.

-x-x-x-

My lungs drank deep of the cool night air. My eyes fluttered closed for a moment as I inhaled the sea-breeze, tinged with the pungent scent of the city around me.

"Don't go drifting off on me, Annatar," said Vista teasingly from beside me.

I blinked and glanced her way. She was watching me, a hint of a smirk on her exposed lips.

"We've still got almost half of our patrol route," she said. "Little early to be falling asleep, don't you think?"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Do you sleep standing up?" I asked. "What are you, a horse?"

"I take offense at that," said Vista, shifting her hands through the air. Her powers twisted space, crafting a portal beside us, leading several blocks down the street. I could see it like the lens of a telescope, a circle of space through which my perspective was altered.

She led me through the portal and closed it behind us. We took a moment to glance around.

"Quiet tonight," Vista said.

"Too quiet?"

"God, could you get any more cliché?"

I chuckled. "Oh, Vista," I said, changing the subject. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this. Do you want a weapon?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "Like the PR mooks are going to let innocent little Vista out with a gun."

"A knife, maybe?"

"Even that." She looked at me, her eyes hidden behind her mask. "Don't get me wrong," she said. "I'd like to be taken seriously. It's f—it's annoying that, even though I've been a hero longer than half the Protectorate and even though I'm a shaker nine, people insist on treating me like a naïve little kid who doesn't understand the world. But it's not going to happen until the 'adults' decide I've passed some arbitrary age." Vista gave a slow exhalation through clenched teeth, and the built tension trained out of her small frame. "I've gotten over it."

I looked into her visor where I thought her eyes were. "I've been talking to Piggot," I said. "If you want, I'll keep working on her."

"Best of luck to you," Vista said dryly. "You'll need—"

She was interrupted by a sound. It was like thunder, coupled with the cracking of stone and rushing of sudden flame. It was a sound that I'd never heard before in person, despite living in a city like Brockton Bay. There was no word or onomatopoeia to perfectly describe it, so I'll use the one featured in films, books, and cartoons.

Boom.

I whirled around, but the buildings encroached on all sides. I could see nothing. "What was that?" I asked.

"You know what it was," Vista said, her voice cold.

I turned to her. She was twisting her hands through the air as she formed us a passage.

My radio crackled to life before I could say another word. Sophia's voice came in from the console. "Patrolling Wards, please return to headquarters at once," she said, perfectly businesslike.

I palmed the handheld and brought it to my face. "Console, what's going on?" I demanded. "What was that sound?"

"Bomb, Annatar," Sophia said coolly. "Big one. Get to base, now. We've got work to do."

"After you," Vista said before I could reply, gesturing me towards the circle of compressed space she'd made.

I clenched my teeth and nodded. "Right," I agreed, and stepped inside.

-x-x-x-

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Phantomman101 · Jun 23, 2017

Can't wait for when she finally realizes she made a mistake in joining the Wards. I get that she needs a team to be as effective as she can possibly be, but was it worth hamstringing herself? Seriously, the PR people would rather Vista look good, than be able to save herself if her power fails her in some way. Plus, it should be obvious by now that the Wards aren't the team she was looking for. They don't have what it takes to go all the way, in terms of stopping a threat that just won't quit. Sophia and Vista are the only ones I could see stepping up to the plate, and they both have a number of issues that would have to be solved first.

Dark Mage · Jun 23, 2017

Well, if Taylor goes Dark Lord, I would totally understand!

Bureaucracy is soulless evil.

Though she needs to recruit Amy to create her orcs.

Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power] [Complete]

Ring-Maker [Worm/Lord of the Rings Alt-Power]

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Promethean

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Sanity is really overrated...