Chapter 1
Taylor Hebert
"You ready, Kiddo?" Daniel asked a straightforward question that would have seemed normal enough to respond to, but her mouth was drier than the sands of the Sahara. There were two significant problems; the first was that Daniel had used the word kiddo, which he knew was one of her trigger words. The second being that she wasn't even sure if she wholeheartedly believed in what she was about to do. Taylor knew this was one of the choices available to her, but with a deck full of jokers, there didn't seem to be a choice. There would be consequences for her if she didn't follow through.
Nightmares were crawling inside her mind, skittering around her skull, hoping to consume her.
"Yeah," she squeaked out, unconfident, which made her visibly cringe. Daniel must have seen her lack of confidence because all he deemed appropriate to feed her soul was a hard-worn smile. Just hope that this is the right choice.
She exited her father's red and rustic beat-up truck, and her father followed suit a moment later. The pavement underneath her black boots was worn down, cracks displaying its age, not as fresh as she had expected a government body to afford. They walked past several parked vehicles, most of which belonged to the Parahuman Response teams. Black armored trucks that had more tint on their windows than any legal vehicle she'd ever seen. Some of them had mounted machine guns or what appeared to be gigantic circular protracted domes. She didn't know what they were for. There were over fifty other cars and trucks parked. There was a clear distinction between what regular folks drove and what government employees drove during their working hours. Taxpayer dollars were clearly not being spent appropriately, which made Taylor disgusted at the flagrant waste.
Within a hundred steps, they reached the PRT Headquarters entrance; without touching anything, two automatic clear-plastic doors opened for us. They passed by several guards before reaching the lobby. There was a sea of people sitting down on simple blue plastic chairs. They all were idling on their phones or chatting with their groups. The walls inside the building were basic, a neutral gray mixed with some blue highlights. The cement flooring was lit up by traditional office white lights. There were signs in bright yellow and red, marking what people were allowed to do.
There was a ticket system, and even though she had called ahead on the PRT hotline for new capes, the receptionist on the line had gone over the PRT's procedure for any potential capes wanting to join the Wards or Protectorate. To sum up, she had to wait like everyone else to speak to a representative. She wasn't going to get any special treatment, no VIP line to bypass what seemed like a flood of people wasting government time.
The hotline lady had been kind enough to tell Taylor that she had to wait in the lobby like everyone else for two reasons. One that she could be wasting a Hero's time by being a potential fangirl. Two, to countermeasure any gang from watching the building for any new cape in town in their civilian clothes. Technically speaking, anyone could enter and exit the lobby without any appointments. If she had been a nefarious Villain that relied on preying on new capes, Taylor would still have people catch the place and investigate every single person; but maybe the PRT knew something she didn't.
Daniel went to the red machine that spat out tickets, and without asking, he showed her how long they would have to wait. She looked up at the red led counter on the wall, which displayed '93F'. The small square paper Daniel had shown her had black text titled '21G'. She could only groan in frustration, attracting bored eyes for a moment.
She could have figured out the meaning of life, cured cancer, and devoured an oreo smoothie. In reality, they had waited only fifty minutes before their ticket was called on by one of the counters. As they walked up to one of four receptionists serving clients, the computer in front of the clerk was much more interesting to her than finding out who she was helping.
"Room 203." If words could describe a sloth in wolf clothing, that would have conveyed the vibe Taylor got from the lady.
Daniel was scratching his head, confused, and with the way his eyebrows were scrunched, Taylor could quickly tell her father did not like the woman. Nonetheless, when he turned towards her, Taylor just shrugged. Two guards were sitting on stools behind a desk that blocked the hallway to rooms 100 to 200. They didn't say a word, just pointing toward a sign asking us to show our ticket. Once one who had leaned forward to read the ticket leaned back, he went back into staring into the distance. Creepy.
The hallway ahead seemed sterile, straightforward, and boring. As the numbers grew, leading us up to the 200s, she realized that every door was identical besides the number on the side. There were some intersections that led to other paths, but they had clear yellow lines with a "STAFF ONLY" sign. Every crossing also had a giant tinted security camera with a red blinking light, implying that they were being watched by some central security room.
As the duo entered our designated room, Taylor was surprised to see someone waiting inside. The person was reading something dreadfully important on their cell phone before turning toward us. Daniel had walked behind and closed the door without making too much noise.
"Hello there, you must be Taylor Hebert. I hope I'm pronouncing your name right. I'm Jessica Dixon, And you must be?" the woman wearing a cream-colored suit asked, staring at her dad.
Even though she had spoken as fast as a mouse caught on fire, Taylor could understand her. She had short brown hair like Taylor, but unlike her, she had styled it like a beach wave; and had added blonde tips. She wore some makeup, nothing that screamed clown, a light rose lipstick with dark eyeliner.
There was a small rectangular metal table between us, with a yellow folder thicker than any book she had ever read. There were two plastic seats on each side, similar in quality and color to what had been in the lobby. The lady, Jessica, was sitting on the right seat, so Taylor decided to sit just opposite her. Daniel went to sit beside her; "Daniel, I'm Taylor's father."
"Ah, makes sense. It's always good to see a legal guardian involved, especially when it's a parent. Now, why don't we just cut to the chase? You said you didn't want to disclose your power over the phone. The PRT respects all privacy laws, as the DOJ's website indicates. You know, we even have web pamphlets that we distribute on our website. If there is some sort of concern about this, please let me know so I can let Judy, our local legal rep, let Eastcoast know. You know what, I'll get her to update the 163.1 Para 3C on our pam's so that everyone understands our position."
Taylor's face warped into a dog that feared they had misunderstood their owner because she hadn't even understood what Jessica had said. The woman had just spewed out her guts, words that made no practical sense. Her father must have been just as bewildered, with him cleaning his ears as if to clear up his hearing.
"Brain no compute," she meeped out, scratching her nose.
"I'm with her," Daniel said, continuing for me, "We came here so that Taylor could join the Wards, not be 'information dumped' with some legal jargon. I don't know why you think we've come here for another reason. Anyways, Taylor. I'm not going to steal your thunder. Go ahead."
When Jessica said nothing, her face neutral, staring at her, waiting patiently like an angel, Taylor decided it was time to spill the beans. And hoped that she wasn't about to get thrown in a jail cell.
"Right. My powers. I can control people and make them do things, even if they don't want to. I'm unsure what my range is; maybe two blocks or so? I haven't tested them out."
"By people, you mean regular folk or capes?" Jessica asked, now focusing all her attention on me before staring at something above the door. Taylor briefly turned around to see a similar hallway camera, just miniaturized.
"Not sure, but as far as I can tell anyone. But only one person at a time."
Taylor wasn't sure why she was spitting out her weaknesses to the PRT, which, technically speaking, hadn't made her sign any forms that indicated that she was a Ward, but it had just come out.
"Can you demonstrate your powers? Like, make someone clap their hands without them wanting to?"
She stared at her like she was an idiot on some expensive designer drugs.
"You want me," she pointed to myself, "to master you?" she asked, pointing at the now embarrassed lady.
Without delay, she went to grab her cell phone and called someone.
"Hey, Ron, you at the office? Oh, good. How long will it take you to get to 203? Ten? You mean five, right? Five. Awesome, I'll be waiting."
"Right, well, my coworker is coming here," she said.
"Ron, the guinea pig," Taylor supplied.
"Yeah, him. He'll come here, we'll fill him in, and you do your thing," Jessica said, waving her hands like some sort of puppet master, "If it seems legit, you'll be a Ward in no time. Maybe even get to see some Heroes today."
"Just how many people come here trying to act like they're a cape?" Daniel asked the same question that had been in her mind as well.
"Oh, too many; that's why the queue system here is slow. To purposely waste people's time, fakes and time wasters just walk out."
"Did you say the quiet part out loud?" Taylor asked, genuinely wondering if she was secretly dealing with a Villain. Jessica just gave her a broad smile with eyes that portrayed her as a lunatic on the loose.
Taylor made a cross with her two index fingers, "Begone evil!"
"Stop that, Taylor," Daniel said.
"It's alright," Jessica said with a light laugh before the door opened.
A red-headed short guy, at least shorter than her, wearing a simple black suit, entered and then closed the door behind him in a controlled manner. He quickly went to sit down beside Jessica before saying a word.
"Jess, you called?" Ron asked when he sat down; Taylor found his demeanor to be strange but, at the same time, entertaining.
"Yup. Taylor here is applying to be a cape, and I need a demonstration before I can sign her up. Boss might want to speak to her as well." Jessica then went to pat his shoulder awkwardly.
"Another demonstration?" Ron whined. He closed his eyes and pinched his nose before returning to what I assumed was his regular posture.
"Hey!" Why did they think I was a floozie? "I detest that; I'm a legitimate cape!"
With that, he blankly stared at me like I was some sort of fraud. "Okay, sure. Let's go. What can you do?"
"I can control humans; make them do anything or nothing. Specifically, I can only control one person at a time."
Ron squinted, his head went a bit forward, then he turned to his left, staring at Jessica for a moment before facing me again.
"Right." People apparently love speaking the quiet part out loud in front of me. "Another telepath, huh?"
"Uh, no. Can't read minds, as far as I can tell. Do I have your permission to make you clap your hands twice so that I can sign up and be a Ward? I'm getting hungry for pizza." Taylor stared at her dad's precious eyes as she said the last part, rubbing her stomach to show her seriousness. Taylor even clarified what sort of deliciousness "Jerry's pizza, to be precise."
"Sure, we can grab a pie before heading home," Dad said before rolling his eyes.
"Jessica, I'm not going to do anything besides keep my hands on this table. Taylor? Go ahead."
"Just to make sure that we're all on the same page. I'm going to make you clap twice, and you've given me your blessing. No jail time for me, right?"
"That's correct," Ron said, and without him even realizing it, Taylor made him clap twice.
Both the suits seemed extremely surprised to see Ron, the guinea pig, clapping like a total dweeb.
"Papers, please!" she yelped out, excited to finally be a Ward. Her stupid smile couldn't come off, even with the shock on their faces.
"Ron, you didn't clap on your own, right?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure, Jessica, that I didn't just clap my hands."
"Then it looks like we're going to have a new Ward in town," Jessica said before calling someone on her cell phone.
"Hey, boss. Yeah. Yeah. Definitely. Uh-huh. Got it. I. Yeah, I'm listening. Sure, that's Wendy. Yeah. So. Yeah, I got Ron to confirm- Yeah. Two zero three. Yeah, four sounds good. Okay- and…. goodbye to you too."
Ron didn't even seem phased to have heard that very awkwardly rushed conversation.
"Good news, I just got in touch with my supervisor, one of the Protectorate is going to come here to officially welcome you in. We'll deal with the paperwork before that." Jessica went to open the yellow folder and showed me that being a cape involved a healthy dose of paperwork.
All of the dates were already pre-written for today's date, January 21st, 2011. Her father wanted to read every line, but after some convincing, they both signed the places with little sticky notes indicating where we needed to sign. By the time they were done, her fingers had some blue ink on them, displaying the amount of ink blood she was willing to sacrifice for the greater good. Anyone who shook her hand could immediately tell she had beaten a dangerous foe.
"Ron, can you submit this in the registry and send a copy to my email when you're done?"
"Yes. I'll see you later?"
"Uh-huh. Yeah."
Ron didn't seem phased; he grabbed the paperwork and exited the room.
"Alright, Taylor, I- wait a second, sorry, forgot about one thing," Jessica said before calling someone again.
"Yeah, hey, can you do me a favor? In an hour or so, go debrief Ron on MS. Yeah. I know. Yeah sorry. Should have called earlier. My bad. Bye."
Did she just do what I think she just did?
"Yeah, nothing personal, Taylor. Just need to make sure the first floor is always good to go."
"No offense taken…." she commented, realizing how serious the Protectorate was against Masters and Strangers messing around. Even when under their control.
"Since we're done here, let me take you to the fifth floor. There's another lobby for private visitors, but it comes with a canteen."
They all left the interrogation room and walked into the restricted side before reaching an open elevator. Taylor found it to be creepy, but Jessica just said they were being monitored, and to save time, someone in the security room had opened the elevator for them. It only took two seconds before reaching the fifth-floor lobby, which she thought had meant to go up, but they went down instead. She made no comment, but Dad seemed conflicted when he stared at the numbers going down instead of up. The fear of being foamed and sent to the Birdcage rolled into the front of her head, and the militaristic machine guns that were so innocently tracking us weren't making Taylor's mind space feel comfy.
The fifth-floor underground lobby was void of anyone visible. None of the seats were taken, and there didn't seem to be a receptionist to fulfill anyone's requests. There wasn't even a ticketing system to waste anyone's time.
"Do you want anything to drink? Water, Soda, Coffee?"
"No thanks," Daniel said.
"Water, please," she said; her palms were strangely sweaty.
Jessica walked up to an open window, where Taylor noticed a guard without his helmet. The agent grabbed a can of soda and a bottle of water before coming towards us again. Taylor thanked her when she passed the water bottle.
"Alright, let's wait until one of the Protectorate members comes. Please, find yourself a seat. Shouldn't take more than two minutes."
Sighing, she and her father went to the nearest plastic seats while Jessica went to speak to someone on the phone again. She whispered, and every time she glanced her way, it made her even more nervous than before. Am I going to the Birdcage? Is dad going to lose his job? Are we going to-
Metallic footsteps stopped me from dreaming up the worst.
"Armsmaster," Dad whispered, in awe for the third time, taking away what Taylor was going to say. This time, she didn't mind him stealing her thoughts.
The blue metallic Hero seemed to be missing his iconic weapon, the Halbeard, a fake online meme name for his Halberd.
"Hello there, I'm Armsmaster. You must be Designate Tango, and this must be your father."
"Mango?" she asked, wondering why Armsmaster called her petite shape a fruit. Especially a mango, of all things.
Jessica laughed but quickly interjected, "No, no. That's just a codename. Boss must have come up with it."
"Whoever your boss is, seems to think they were funny by calling me a fruit. I'm not a Mango."
Daniel facepalmed before mumbling out, "Tango. Tango. With a Tee. Like your name, Taylor. Not Mango."
Her face must have turned red, so much so that she could have become Designate Tomato.
"Sir, do you have all the details?" Jessica asked before staring at her phone to check for something.
Armsmaster stared at Jessica. "Yes, but you bent the Master protocols. Don't do that again. I've put a note on your file to restrict your access to any machine for the next ninety minutes. Go take a mandatory break."
"Right, sorry about that. Didn't think it was real. I'll go now?" Jessica half asked.
"Yes," Armsmaster said, as monotone as possible.
"Uh, sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." It appeared like her hands wanted to play thumb war at the wrong time.
Armsmaster gave her a hard cold stare, something that would have made even Alexandria shy away from it. It was a good thing Taylor was made up of sterner stuff!
"You didn't know our regulations; no one informed you. Now, we've been briefed on your powers. You can only use them if Director Piggot or I ask you to. At least until you go through our approved power testing. If anyone else asks you to use your powers, you must disregard their commands."
"Understood, Yes sir!" she shouted, saluting him like a soldier ready to fight the enemy. Taylor wasn't sure who Director Pig was, but she was sure she would find out soon enough. She hadn't realized that the PRT HQ had an animal park.
"Is she always like this?" Armsmaster didn't seem to enjoy her jokes as much as she hoped he was.
"Sometimes, when she's nervous," Dad said, betraying her trust.
"Dad…" she whined. Secretly Taylor was hoping that her child-like jokes were helping break the ice. She knew her powers were scary; she just needed to ensure that the Heroes thought she was too friendly to do anything as evil as invade their bodies to do her wicked bidding.
"Come, usually we let new Wards get introduced to each other, but your circumstances are different."
She didn't bother commenting, which didn't hurt the Hero's feelings. They were led to some sort of gym that had several strange objects that were labeled different things. It made sense as soon as she read the second label, as each signified another test. The labels above the objects were the power listings, from 'Brute' to 'Stranger.' Several scientists were waiting for them inside the first room, with their own clipboards and pens on the ready.
Colin Wallis (Armsmaster)
None of them had expected a bomb to drop onto their laps just after the holidays after Behemoth attacked one of the cities in the east. Somewhere North of China, a place where no one around the world except the CUI was allowed. The president had declared that no patriot or American was to go help them. The man hadn't needed to go on the record for that, but politics worldwide were hotter than the cold war. Not hot enough to cause any concern for nuclear weapons but hot enough that both sides and their local allies would never help out each other. When Armsmaster had gone to the Director to at least record the combat for analysis, the idea had been shot down.
The girl had waited in line for who knows how long they made civilians wait, with their parent in tow, just so that they could sign up to be a Ward. Especially a cape that could Master others. He couldn't remember the last time a Master or Stranger joined the Heroes on their own. Those powers encouraged overwatch, oversight, and usually a heavy hand. There was a running theory on the dark web that implied capes needed to get involved, or they would become aggressive. But that was just an idea fairy and needed to be better documented by reliable sources.
The only strange thing was the amount of paranoia the girl had into not revealing her powers beforehand. Although, they were justified because the Director's face implied doom. If he couldn't remember the last time a Master had joined the Wards and not been killed off or sent to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center, he doubted the teen would either. There was a recent case as well, a cape that went by Canary. She had mastered her boyfriend into sodomizing himself, even though accidentally, if what her lawyer said was the truth. It didn't matter, though. The judge that had presided over their case had made an example of her. Like with every other Master who ever got caught as a Villain. She was still holding, as her lawyer had been competent enough to ask for a retrial. He wasn't sure why the case hadn't been picked up again, but nothing had changed for at least six months. The girl must have researched and seen just how harsh the justice system was with Masters and Strangers.
It was a miracle that the two civilian agents who had been in charge of the random case hadn't asked the girl to do anything rash with her powers; or had antagonized her to do anything malicious. There had been uncanny things in the past, and a misstep in the recruiting phase, especially the girl who had come to them, would have made the department look intellectually incompetent. Even though he had reprimanded the agent, Miss Dixon, he would give her a positive review in the PRT database.
Armsmaster suspected she still held remnants of trauma from her past while at Ellisburg. When the Director had found out about the new cape, she had grumbled to him in confidence. Seeing as she was a person who enjoyed venting with subordinates who could keep their mouths shut, he let her express just how awful Masters were without commenting.
Beside him, where he was seated, was Hannah. She seemed to be focused, as always. The Director and several other suits were reading Taylor's file in front of them. The scientists who had been directly involved with the power testing and three other officials were in the room. One of the officials was the Director's team legal representative that would only interject if needed.
"I trust that you're all ready to begin. We'll start off with the PEN-TET team, Dr. Matt."
"Ah, thank you, Director, for your time. It's always good to contribute to the team. Designate Tango will now be known as Tango to keep me from repeating several times for time efficiency. From a power testing standpoint, Tango's abilities are rated like everyone else's. No unfair bias or statement has been made by my team. No assumptions, just straight facts. Any concerns with these findings must be submitted to me within three days. Until then, I've already submitted these findings to the local database. It will be merged tonight into the national database, per the IT team's usual operating procedures.
Regarding classifications, we've decided to put it down to A tier, restricting anyone not in this room for the next thirty days, minus the board at HQ. You can contest this, but I have uploaded the designation into the national security database. You will only share these findings with people if they need clarification. That does not include your family, not your dog, while you're taking them out for a walk, not anyone. That said, the power classifications observed in front of the teams are as per standard order.
Mover, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Shaker, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Brute, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Breaker, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Master, Six, Nine, Seven, potential up, Total Seven.
Tinker, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Blaster, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Thinker, Zero, Zero, Nine, potential up, Total Seven.
Striker, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Changer, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Trump, Zero, Zero, Zero, Uniform, Total Zero.
Stranger, One, Two, One, potential up, Total two.
To simplify, the summary findings are the following, in standard order.
Master, Seven.
Thinker, Seven.
Stranger, Two.
It is the Power Testings team's assessment that Tango has the Master classifications to control humanoid subjects with no restrictions; there does not seem to be any manton effects with their powers. Tango is, however, limited to one person at a time, with a slight delay between 20 to 50 milliseconds. Subjects are only aware of the fact that Tango controls them once they make them move to perform actions. They do not need to issue verbal commands, nor are there any noticeable waves emitted that act like some sort of speaker. More information about our findings and tests can be read in the papers in front of you on page thirty.
Regarding our assessment of Thinker, they can read surface thoughts while actively controlling subjects. None of our devices were able to tell us of this. It came from Tango, which they had freely shared with us. After further testing, it was quickly revealed that they can only interpret frontal cortex thoughts. I note that Tango acted unaware of this ability until testing today.
Which led to a thirty-minute break. It is not up to me to determine if Tango was being truthful, but I want to state that they were having a meltdown. Their legal guardian and Armsmaster had been able to console them and get Tango back to testing.
Back to the topic.
We classify Tango as a Stranger Two because they can manipulate others into ignoring Tango's presence in what appears to be indefinitely. Like previously, we were unable to see brain activity within subjects to see if they were being manipulated. Having multiple people to prevent their memory from fading was not a suitable counter.
Further iterative testing will be done at a later time.
Any questions regarding power testing will be directed to me and me only. None of my team will be harassed unless they wish to go out of their way to help.
Director, thank you for being patient. Do you have any questions regarding my team's performance?"
Armsmaster knew the woman was still processing, as her brain had blue-screened. It took a nudge from one of the suits, a PRT Consultant, to get her moving.
"No. We'll keep questions until the end. Robert? Did you have a chance to observe Designate Tango?"
Robert, the PRT's psychologist slash HR rep, nodded.
"Yes, I have. Tango never went out of their way to express excessive negative emotions or trauma. However, there did appear to be an unhealthy dose of fear with how Tango is perceived. Her fear of being labeled as anything but typical or heroic needs to be addressed."
Armsmaster made a note to speak to the man about confidentiality when they were done. There wasn't a point in smearing him in front of everyone; as no one else had noticed.
"They were not afraid of using their abilities, but they were extremely cautious. Anytime Matt and his team asked Tango to perform an action, they confirmed verbally twice that they were allowed to perform the action. Not sequentially, either. They had constantly interjected with some comments before asking again. Reviewing footage of Tango's first encounter with the civilian agents confirmed that it wasn't due to nervousness towards Armsmaster's presence. Nor a formality to ensure cooperation with the power testing team.
I recommend they only go into the field once Tango clearly understands what lines they can and can not cross. In the past, life-or-death situations have caused these figurative lines to be crossed. Unless they have been reinforced to the individual to not be. I am not here to tell you how to run your show or how Wards are to be employed, but if rules are not said out loud for all scenarios, they can be broken. I can help with that process if needed."
When the man had finished, the Director seemed to have relaxed. All the fears that all the men and women in suits had shown had mellowed out.
The girl was kind and went out of their way to join the Wards to prevent all the Director's fears.
Hannah stared at him as if to question him. "Later," he whispered.
"Armsmaster, you've had direct interaction with Tango. Do you agree with these assessments?"
He stared at the Director and knew she wanted him to put his Heroic career on the line. With a groan, he straightened up and spoke the objective truth.
