Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I could still hear the sound of the locker door slamming shut. The high-pitched screech of squeaky and uncared for hinges, the near-silent push of displaced air that crept across me in a brief instant barely long enough for half a thought, the final and grave tin thunk of the door slamming closed, and the collection of short chortles that stretched and echoed through the metal door.

Chortles. Chortle s . Three of them. Three short laughs, the kind of sound after a small joke is shared between friends, or maybe the more schadenfreude type made when someone watches a waitress trip and fall. Three individual laughs nonetheless. One sadistic, one cruel, and one uncaring.

They’d long left, I hadn’t even realised what was happening until after the sound of their steps had faded away and I had been left trapped. Sometime between the sound of them leaving and the sound of a bell ringing was when it happened. When the dread finally began to sink in, when claustrophobia began to press in against me, when the stench that had merely been horrible suddenly became an unbearable pain crawling through my nose clawing its way down my throat, and the walls of my own locker had transformed into an iron maiden full of refuse and blood.

Then the bell rang, and all my thoughts disappeared behind the memory of the locker slamming shut. Leaving only a single thought that silenced whatever parts of my brain had been trying to struggle or break free or even get comfortable .

A single, dreadful, terrifying thought that unified all those different and untamed urges into a ten word mosaic of terror.

How long are they going to leave me in here?

It was a question that I didn’t want to find an answer for.

Would they leave me in here until class ended?

My throat and body struggled, the walls of the locker cloying at my body as I thrashed amongst the waste and refuse that shared the space with me.

Would they leave me in here until lunch?

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe . With every movement came the reminder of the walls around me, the filth that surrounded and subsumed me, the despicable phantom laughter. 

Will they leave me in here until school is over?

There was nothing I could do. I was trapped in here, at their mercy. Until they decided to let me out, when they got bored of me being in here and out of reach of further humiliation.

Will they leave me here overnight?

I wasn’t sure if I had only begun crying then, but I could feel my eyes burn and the tears running down my face. I hoped tears were the cause of that anyway, and not something worse that permeated the garbage that surrounded me.

No one would save me. I knew that.

Getting in the way of the trio and their favourite morsel was just asking for something worse to happen, and Winslow barely bothered with even the pretence that it cared about its security. All I could hope would be that a janitor might find me. Would the police even check my locker if a disappearance was called in?

Or they decide to let me out.

Helpless. Nothing but a dead pinata, strung up to a tree and to be beaten with sticks for the amusement of my tormentors. Nothing but-

And then I heard it.

The soft thumps of heavy steps outside my locker.

Something was there , I could tell. A distinct sense crawled in the back of my head, and I quietly hoped whoever it was would let me out, even as the heavy sound of footsteps drowned out the phantom laughter.

Wait-

The thought didn’t get any further, just the vague notion, verging on realisation, in my mind that something wasn’t quite right before my entire locker shuddered. Two brief impacts, not quite in sync, but close. Like the beat of a heart. One after the other with only the very briefest space in-between.

And then another sound came, a short lived metallic screech, right next to my ears, as I tumbled backwards through the space the door to my locker had just been. Loose garbage- used tampons and similar pieces of waste and refuse I could see now- piled on top of me as I landed on the floor, the clatter of metal falling to the ground registering beside me.

My head ached . A constant, unrestrained, clawing sensation pushing against the inside of my head. A jumble of images swarmed over me as I slowly pulled my eyes open.

Under the suddenly harsh and glaring light of the Winslow hallways a monster’s head stared down at me. 

Four hair-like tentacles grew out of a shark-like head, plates of bone and a thin knife-like crest covered it’s face, an unruly mouth sported teeth that were designed to rip and tear 

I tried to look at something else and-

And I found myself staring down at a girl with wavy black hair, splayed out on her back across the floor, and covered in used hygiene products, rotten food, and whatever else those bitches had gotten their hands on and judged sufficiently putrid to be stuffed in there alongside her.

The swarming sensations swam in my mind, and gradually, with each passing moment of absent focus they arranged themselves. I could see myself, on the floor of Winslow, just as easily as I could see the monster standing above me. Easier, in fact, the image of the girl was far clearer and more detailed than what I saw without my glasses. I could smell the rank scent of aged blood, used tampons and pads, rotten food, and a large sample of other smells far more detailed and distinct than what the all-encompassing stench the locker and waste had provided me before. I could feel the prickle of a slight breeze against my exposed skin as I stood in the middle of the hallway. Everything was so clear, so precise , so overwhelmingly present in my mind, clouding each corner and demanding my attention.

I was almost glad that the sound of screams were pretty much the same, no matter which set of ears I heard them from.

Cries of cape, villain, monster echoed down Winslow’s halls. The sounds drilling into me as I tried to lift my head, only for half- all?- of my vision to swim and blur. I could just barely hear the quiet clatter of my glasses falling off my head and to the floor. 

Shit shit shit shit shit-

I tried to pick up my glasses, only to suddenly freeze- had I even begun moving?- when the monster that stood over me started to move instead- I can’t see it, how did I know it was moving?- It also froze, and I could feel my entire chest expand and tighten with each rapid breath I was making as I slowly fumbled around for my glasses.

Slowly, with each fumbling movement that I both couldn’t see with my own eyes and could see with crystal clarity from eyes that weren’t mine, understanding trickled through. It was me .

Not just the dark-haired girl, covered and waste and fumbling on the floor for her glasses- which were right there on your left, you idiot just grab them- but also the monster. The terrifying creature that hovered above my shoulder, admitting a low snarling noise until I felt my hand finally touch the cool glass.

Placing the lenses over my eyes, I felt my chest soften and relax as my vision- half my vision? My human vision?- return to something vaguely resembling clarity through the smudged and dirty lenses.

Standing up was a chore, my legs felt wobbly and every bit of my body ached, but I had to get out of here, find someplace quiet, someplace with less noise , less screaming. Someplace I could just sit and figure out what was going on.

I almost threw up when I finally took my first step, my sense of balance- sense of balances?- had apparently decided that I- not me, the monster. No, Is it me? My power? My other body? Which- was moving the monst- my power . That I was moving my power’s body just as I put my foot down. I felt the wrong sense of instincts take hold, all but throwing me into the wall of lockers next to me as I collapsed.

Focus. Practice. Capes had to practice with their powers. Glory Girl probably didn’t know how to fly right off the bat. I, apparently, needed to re-learn how to fucking walk properly.

I let myself slump to the floor, dragging a dark stain against the locker I had collapsed against as some of the filth that clung to me let go. It was a simple idea. There was a… mess … I felt like a drunk sailor who’d lost his sea-legs, tipping and over-correcting as the world spun around me.

But if I only moved one body and focused only on moving that body. Hopefully, maybe, it’ll work out and I could get out of here.

My power’s tentacles attempted to grab my human body, clumsily slapping and wrapping itself around me until I felt it had a good enough grip, and lifted me off the ground. I bit back the urge to hurl as I placed myself as gently as I could on my b- my power’s back.

The next steps were easier. My arms were in a death grip around my power’s neck as I slowly, step after careful step, I began to walk away from my locker. Walking on all fours was something my power’s body found easy enough to do, and with each careful and measured step I felt a rhythm begin to build. My steps began to become smoother, faster, and my own body was being jostled less and less as I found the right ways to move and began needing to correct myself less and less.

It was the bright, sudden flaring pain in my leg- one of my power’s legs, not my legs- that dashed the slow trickle of confidence I was beginning to build.

Blearily, still hissing in pain from my power’s mouth, I moved my own head to take a look and the cause of the pain.

A large black thorn was stuck in my power’s leg. That couldn’t be right. I frowned, and tried to focus on the object.

Not a thorn, a crossbow bolt .

What the fuck-

I turned my head to look behind me, and I could feel two sets of instincts flare into a battle with eachother even as they fought themselves. A dark figure kneeled in the hallway behind me, crossbow pointed in my direction and black metal mask set in a permanent stern expression.

Shadow Stalker is shooting at me what the fuck why is Shadow Stalker here are the other Wards here what the fuck is going on-

I tried to open my mouth, but all that came was a weak croaking noise as Shadow Stalker began to load another bolt into her crossbow. My whole body- no, both my bodies froze, and I felt a wordless scream echo between us.

FightorFlight FightorFlight FightorFlight

It only took me seeing her lining up her second shot for my mind to snap to a decision.

RUN!

Galloped was probably the right word for the movement that happened next. My larger body stretched forward, its clawed feet leaping forward with each step. I could feel my power’s muscles, and the pure strength behind them with each and every movement. I could feel small cracks forming in the cheap Winslow flooring form beneath me as I ran. Barrelling through anything that was in my way as I clung desperately to my own back.

It was somewhere during that stretched moment of rush and panic that I realised that people were still screaming. That some of the things that were shoved out of my single-minded path were students that failed to scramble away in time.

I still hadn’t seen any other Wards when I burst through Winslow’s front entrance. Brief overwhelming indecision flooded me as I realised I didn’t know where to go. Some small, vocal, stupid teenage part of me didn’t want to go home just yet, not while school was still meant to be on.

I decided to listen to that part of me, if only because I didn’t like the idea of being chased all the way home by heroes. I grabbed that small stupid teenage thought and pulled it up from the depths, and let the stupid thing decide where to next.

Away.

I could feel both my bodies laughing in terror and exhileration as I ran.

The Docks.

Chapter Text

The adrenaline slowly bled out of me while I laid on the floor of a warehouse somewhere in the Docks, eyes closed and doing my utmost just to breathe.

I wasn’t entirely sure how long I had been laying here, nor was I entirely sure where I actually was and how I had gotten away from the heroes. Smudged, blurry memories of a man in red and the roaring of angry vehicles before a climb. 

I did remember one thing though, something my instincts had pointed me towards when the brief need to hide had overwhelmed everything else.

Opening my eyes, both pairs, I entered a strange staring contest with my power. With a frown I recalled the sensation that had filled me when I had last done this. The feeling of being pulled under and submerged in a thick liquid, of a faint pressure pushing against my power’s skin and the unpleasant tension in my chest, as if something was inside it that didn’t fit. 

I blinked and my power was gone.

Not gone, I can still feel it. I can still see and move it. It’s just not here anymore.

I reached up a hand from the floor and waved it lazily through the approximate space one of it’s legs had just been. Nothing was there. Nothing interrupted me and I let my hand collapse back to the floor and settle into the tiring embrace of exhaustion. With a blink I released the tension and saw my power reform in front of me.

It was strange watching it appear. It wasn’t accompanied by a flash of light or darkness, nor did it suddenly form out of stars or fire or wind or whatever. Nor did it just…appear, like some other teleporters I had seen online. Instead my power seemed to… rise . Like a sports star stepping out of a dark backstage hallway and into the bright colourful lights of the stadium. I could almost hear the stomps and chants of crowds as my power stepped into the world.

With a groan I sat up and walked my power in front of me. I hadn’t really gotten a good opportunity to look at the thing. Not between the locker, escaping Winslow, and-

And holy shit I ran from the Protectorate. I ran from Velocity . I climbed a fucking building to get away from him what is wrong with me.

I took a moment to lament my decision making skills, as well as the small part of my mind that insisted it was alright because - it was a small building, not more than two floors - before pushing the thoughts away. I could apologise for running away, I had been panicking and running on mostly adrenaline at that point.

I rolled my head into my hands and gently massaged my face for a bit. It didn’t help, I still felt like an embarrassed idiot.

Let’s just get this over with.

My power seemed to be a monster I could control like an extension of myself. I found I could make it disappear with a bit of concentration and summon it again by letting that cord of tension in my gut relax. I could see out of its eyes, smell through its nose, hear out of its ears, and even feel the wind on the horn like protrusions on the side of its head.

Aside from that it was just a monster. More than twice as tall as I was, clawed hands and feet, with digitigrade legs and opposable thumbs, capable of standing and moving on both purely its hind-legs and on all-fours with its fore-arms, its body had numerous armoured plates covering it and seemed to be more muscle than fat, an almost hair-like structure of four intertwined tentacle limbs was attached to the back of its head, each ending in a sharp spear-tip of the same bone-like substance that made up its natural armour. It trailed out from my power’s head and beyond their body like an odd pseudo tail.

There was a small hole in one of its forelegs where Shadow Stalker’s crossbow bolt had buried into it. The bolt itself was gone, although I couldn’t exactly remember where it had disappeared, and the hole was already shunted over and scabbed closed. Did it heal faster than a human did?

Not enough to recover from an injury mid-fight, it seemed, but fast enough to continue fighting in-spite of it. More like Aegis than Lung was the comparison that came to mind from the few fights I’d seen of them.

The gurgling of my stomach was enough to break me out of my study, and I almost flinched as the pangs of hunger sucker-punched into my awareness. I wasn’t quite exhausted anymore, but I was still tired, and a quick sniff had told me I had apparently been ignoring how bad I smelt as well.

As I made my way to where I vaguely remembered ordering my power to bust down one of the side doors of the warehouse so I could get inside, my mind began to buzz with thoughts. There was no way Velocity or Shadow Stalker or someone hadn’t seen my face, so I’d definitely have to explain to Dad what happened, even if the PRT had talked to him already. Then I could be a hero, maybe establish myself as an independent and get into a few fights to figure out how to work with my power before figuring out whether or not I wanted to join the Wards or not.

Shadow Stalker was at Winslow.

I paused as I stepped over the collapsed door that I had apparently broken the hinges off of, and mulled that thought over. Shadow Stalker had been at Winslow, far earlier than would’ve been possible if she’d been called in from Arcadia or had just been patrolling nearby at the time. Had there even been enough time for a call to go out before she found me?

Which means Shadow Stalker goes to Winslow.

Which made sense, would the PRT really send all their Wards to the same school, especially if it was the school known to be the Wards attended? If they were spread across schools it would be harder to figure out their civilian identities, easier to respond to attacks in a wider area, and would prevent all the Wards getting hurt if something happened at Arcadia. 

If Shadow Stalker goes to Winslow, does that mean any of the other Wards do too?

There’d probably be one or two more, I doubt they’d have only a single Ward attendance, especially if it was a shithole like Winslow.

Which means Shadow Stalker and at least one other Ward probably knew what was happening at Winslow.

And they did nothing.

I had already begun walking again sometime during my thoughts, the Docks wasn’t a busy place and the streets were filled with the dim light of mid-evening as I trudged my way down the path of a hazy recollection that pointed me towards the Boardwalk. I’d take a bus home from there.

The teachers had ignored complaints, they had pretended not to see it when it was so obvious. If it was regular bullying then someone would’ve done something, even if Emma’s Dad is a lawyer. They would have to do something if it was regular students, else if the Wards reported their inaction they’re going to lose whatever benefits they get for giving the Wards special treatment along with their credibility with the PRT.

I don’t trust Principal Blackwell to look out for her students, but I think I can trust her to look out for herself.

Which meant this wasn’t a regular situation. One of the Trio was protected . One of them was a fucking Ward .

Possibly two, hell, maybe even all three of them are Wards.

Okay, probably not all three, there just weren’t that many female Wards in Brockton Bay and the chances of one of them crossdressing as their hero persona was… unlikely. That still meant one of them definitely was a Ward, with another Ward complicit or uncaring about what their fellow Ward is doing.

Still, fuck.

I couldn’t go to the PRT, not if they allowed psychos like that.

The sound of my footsteps shuffling along against pavement ceased as slow, dreadful realisation took me. They’d be watching home, they’d be watching my Dad as they looked for me. If one of the trio were Wards they would have the worst possible picture of me, if it was their word against mine there was no chance they’d believe me, especially if they had a friend to back them up.

The sudden shadow that loomed over me was enough to put those thoughts to a halt, fear and trepidation shooting through my veins.

It made me feel slightly stupid when my focus slid to my power, and I saw myself staring at my own back.

My power loomed over me, almost protectively, with a phantom of an eager smile on its monstrous, too-wide mouth. I frowned and glared at my power, focusing on it and the feeling of that cord pulling tight once more as my power disappeared, as if stepping back behind a curtain.

Going home wasn’t safe, not right now at least. I needed to prove to the PRT I wasn’t whatever those bitches painted me as.

But I was tired, hungry, cold, and smelt disgusting.

I needed some money. 

It wasn’t too far from the Boardwalk when it finally happened. Only a block or two away from where I was pretty sure the private enforcers that patrolled the Boardwalk were. The sun was getting low and the wind turned to bring the evening’s cold chill, but it seemed that with every street I travelled and corner I turned the slow stillness that had possessed the empty streets around the warehouse was eroded away by an ebb and flow of people.

I still almost shrieked when a hand reached out from the confines of a passing alley and yanked me into the enclosed space. 

While I didn’t have the best lighting to see with, what I had was enough to see the lack of gang colours on their clothes. No armbands or visible tattoos, just a ragged pair of blue jeans and a large scruffy black hoodie that did surprisingly well to cover my assailant’s face.

My back was pressed up against a brick wall, and I felt something small and sharp poke at my chest as I was dragged against the wall and further into the alley and out of sight.

 “Scream and you’re stabbed. Got it?” Their voice whispered. Harsh and frantic, but also young. which gave me a little bit of confidence in this idiotic scheme.

I mutely nodded and allowed myself to be dragged, focusing on my power and keeping it suppressed.

Not yet.

We stopped behind a graffiti-covered dumpster, just out of sight of anyone that would be passing by the entrance to the alleyway. It probably wouldn’t be enough to hide if someone who was actually looking took a passing glance, but I was pretty sure it was actually enough to fool most who either weren’t paying attention or didn’t want to pay attention to what was happening.

“You’ve got any money on you?” My assailant asked, their knife digging in ever so slightly to the fabric of my own dull clothes.

“Do you?” Maybe I wasn’t the best at banter, but I felt a vindictive kind of pleasure shoot through me at my would-be-mugger’s confused expression.

My following kick to their shin definitely wasn’t enough to do anything to an actual gang member, or probably anyone but the skinniest and frailest adults, but it was enough to set someone who sounded not much older than I was off-balance.

I shoved the attempted mugger away from me, and for all my strength I was rewarded with a paltry sum of barely two half-step stumbles backwards.

Yeah, there was no way I could win this fight on my own. I couldn’t fight any of the trio, I couldn’t fight this lone, somewhat wimpy mugger. I was an unfit stick that could get winded from a light jog. I wasn’t much of anything by myself.

. But I wasn’t by myself anymore.

I let the tension in my gut loose, and felt my power step forwards into the world between myself and my mugger.

My mugger froze, and I directed a clawed hand to move, grabbing them by the chest and shoving them against the opposing wall. I heard something crack from my power’s ears and winced. That probably hurt him more than I really needed to.

“Now,” I began, ducking under one of my power’s arms and back into the would-be mugger’s view. “Do you have any money on you?”

I felt the smile drop off my face when I noticed the mugger had fainted within my grasp.

Letting him down as gently as possible, I laid him out on the ground behind the dumpster. He didn’t seem to be bleeding, but I wasn’t exactly a medical expert so I’d need to be quick and call an ambulance afterwards.

Rifling through someone’s pockets was apparently harder than TV made it look. Or maybe it was just one of those things you needed experience to pull off.

Turned out the idiot kept his wallet on him though, and I was treated to the spoils of battle. Barely enough money for what I had planned, but after much thought I decided no one would mind if I liberated their hoodie as well. It was overly-large on me despite my height, it almost felt as if the black thing was trying to swallow me whole as I put it on, but I wasn’t exactly sure what the Protectorate and PRT thought of me right now and it was probably better to play it safe than risk going out in public undisguised.

Plus, it might help hide how much I stink right now.

Luckily the mugger had a phone on them as well, which saved me a bit of money and time trying to find and use a payphone. A quick call for an ambulance as a concerned citizen reporting a mugging was all that was needed from me.

I gave the unconscious mugger his phone back once I was done with it, and with reluctance picked the idiot’s knife off where it had fallen on the ground. It was thin and cheap, already dirtied with grime, the kind of thing that I imagined would make its way to a dump no matter how many times it was dropped or hands it exchanged, a fated journey which brought an amusing comparison to The Lord of the Rings to mind. I was still delighted that I couldn’t find any traces of blood on it. Even if It’d probably be barely more than a vague threat in my hands than a real danger. I didn’t know how to use it, but my power could do the heavy lifting for me when it came down to it.

I stuffed it into the combined front pocket of the hoodie as I made my way out of the alley and resumed my way towards the Boardwalk.

I took another bite of my sandwich - my first purchase with my newly obtained spoils - and shivered with joy at the meaty taste on my tongue. I’d probably spent more than I should’ve on my meal, a giant thing stuffed with every kind of ingredient I could convince the clerk to put on the monstrous slab of bread.

It wasn’t until I had the thing in my hands and had taken my first bite did I realise how starved I felt. Maybe exerting my power took calories? Or my run earlier in the day had taken far more out of me than I thought because it felt like I hadn’t eaten in the last month. Each mouthful became a little bite of heaven for my belly.

It had taken too long to find an open thrift store among the unending clusters of glitzy brand fashion stores and ludicrously expensive cafes that seemed to populate the Broadwalk like flies, but I had eventually found one, allowing me to step through and browse for anything that would fit between bites of my sandwich 

My current clothes smelt like garbage, and I was under no illusions that I did not smell the same. There was no other way to cut it. I needed to either give my current outfit a wash that probably wouldn’t be thorough enough to get the smell entirely out even if I had access to all the laundry products at home. That left my only option as buying something fresh and cheap.

I paused- letting my teeth sink into another bite and tearing the contents apart- before grabbing a thick sweater off the shelf. I’d need the layers in this cold, and hopefully it could serve as a blanket or pillow if it turned out the insulation of my warehouse was insufficient.

Which it probably is, now that I think about it. Is there any way for me to repair that door?

There were a few requirements that needed to be filled for my new clothes, but I was still finding enough that I could still take my pick for variety’s sake even if I didn’t have an eye for fashion. Concealing clothes and dull colours with long sleeves and some decent pockets. As far as I could tell my power didn’t make me any kind of Brute, and I didn’t want to attract any level of attention in a fight with my level of fitness. Slinking into the background and watching amongst a crowd while my power took on villains sounded fun.

My power probably grabs more than enough attention by itself anyway.

I took another bite of my sandwich. I’d probably need to do some proper power testing somewhere to find out my exact limits and come up with a few ideas. It didn’t feel like I could summon anything but the one monster, but if it turned out later I could change the shape of my power or could summon more than I was going to be very disappointed in myself for not checking earlier.

Maybe I could get someone to teach me how to fight? It probably won’t work one-to-one with my power, but I might be able to figure out how to translate some basic principles across. A visit to a library might let me look around online to see if I can get any ideas from videos of those ‘Monstrous Capes’ as well.

I grabbed a final pair of socks off a shelf and dumped it into the plastic bag I’d been given with my sandwich and had stretched to the limits with the pile of clothing I was going to buy.

There were two clerks in the shop, one was actually standing behind the counter for me to make my purchases while the other sat on a chair in a nearby corner and read something on their phone. I ended up giving the only clerk behind the counter an embarrassed smile at their blank stare when they looked at the pile of clothing I’d brought.

Fortunately they didn’t ask any questions, even when I paid in a stack of crumpled up notes from my pocket, just offered me a large cloth bag to carry it all in. I had no idea what I was going to say if they did ask, nor how convincing I could be and I really didn’t know how they’d react if they thought I was running away from home.

Which I’m not doing. I’ll call Dad as soon as I have a chance and let him know what I’m doing.

Stuffing all my new clothes into my new bag, I gave the clerk an awkwards wave goodbye as I made my way out of the store.

My eyes briefly caught the other clerk as they glanced up from their phone, and I saw their face freeze in a weird expression. Giving them my best ‘everything is alright here’ smile, which I admit probably wasn’t great as their expression didn’t seem to change at all, I stepped out of the shop and back onto the Broadwalk.

Next stop… somewhere I can take a bath and hopefully get rid of the smell of garbage.

I took another bite of my sandwich.

It seemed to be going well so far.

Chapter Text

Taking a bath in the Bay in the middle of the night probably wasn’t the best idea in retrospect.

“You’re an idiot.” The man who sat across from me said. He’d provided the blanket- barely more than a ragged square of cloth- that was now draped over me and my drenched clothing, so I couldn’t be too mad at him but he was being insufferably smug and looked like the kind of person who probably deserved it. Each and every word he spoke carried a certain carefree lightness. Beyond what the rumpled clothes, dirtied orange beanie, and long loose hair would’ve told me if I were just looking at him.

“It’s not like I had any better options.” I wasn’t pouting. I was cold, I was shivering, I was just a little bit angry, but I refused to pout.

He leaned back, the insufferable grin didn’t really appear on his face, as it was there the entire time, but it suddenly became annoyingly apparent where that expression had grown as his eyes twinkled in delight. “Oh I don’t know about that. I once asked a couple of kids who were playing with a hose in the middle of summer to give me a spray.” He chuckled, “But there are other options as well. A motel bathroom, a friend’s house if you have one, a couple of shelters can give you a bath if you need it, or you can break into someone’s backyard and use their stuff if they’re out of the house at the time.” He finished, still grinning for a moment before his expression and tone dropped, the levity that had laced his words evaporating as he continued, “I wouldn’t trust a random stranger if they offer a shower if I were you, though. A lot of people I know have been pressured into gangs or disappeared that way.”

My throat was dry as I took his words in, and I struggled to swallow. ”Okay,” I gave him a solemn nod , “Don’t trust strangers. That-”

“-That applies to me too, kid,” he interrupted, “I’m not going to ask your name and you shouldn’t give it to me.” He paused for a moment, and the levity returned, “You can keep that blanket by the way. I was going to donate it to a shelter anyway. That or just chuck it out.”

“If I asked why you helped me then, are you going to tell me?”

The man shrugged, leaning back from where he sat and fishing a cigarette and lighter out of his clothes. He didn’t respond immediately, staying quiet even after he lit his cigarette and started to smoke, and I couldn’t decide if that was a worrying sign or not before he finally began to talk, his voice relaxed if not exactly carefree  “Call it a guilty conscience. Seen too many old faces grow sick on the street, and I don’t think I can let a young one do the same.”

I took a deep breath, the smell of tobacco and salt wasn’t all that unfamiliar to me in the chill night air. It reminded me of the days where I would sit in and watch Dad and the other dockworkers labour through the day, on the rare days where Mom couldn’t take care of me and a playdate with friends couldn’t be arranged. Before the Boat Graveyard had arrived and what shipping there still was after Leviathan slowly dried up. My head rolled back as I stared up at the starless sky.

It bugged me that I couldn’t let myself fully relax. Not here and now, with the stranger that sat across from me. No matter how well intentioned it turned out he was, if I relaxed and let myself slip my power would appear. A power that would out me instantly, if my face wasn’t known already, and if it wasn’t I could be sure that rumours of a girl and a monster skulking about wouldn’t be too far behind me if I slipped.

I let my head drop, and stared at the man who had generously given me his blanket, telling me not to trust strangers while he failed to tell me his name.

“What’s your story then, Mr. Guilty Conscience?”

He laughed, his smile easy as he spoke around his cigarette, “Mr. Guilty Conscience? That’s a good one. You can call me Henry, and my story isn’t anything you can’t get out of anyone else. Bad choices, worse decisions, not great circumstances, and even worse friends. Sometimes the details change but the stories are all the same.”

“That doesn’t really tell me anything.” I frowned.

“Heh, not one to settle for a simple answer, are you?” His smile was still light, and there was no mischief in his eyes, but I could tell something else was there as he began to speak, “You’re a good kid, but I don’t think anyone is going to share their life story beyond what’s needed on the first meeting. Not unless they’re already counting their years and are looking for someone to listen,” the mischief returned to Henry’s eyes, if only briefly, “and I like to think I’ve got a couple good years in me to be used yet.”

“Got any advice for a ‘good kid’ like me then? Besides ‘don’t trust strangers’ and ‘don’t swim in the Bay’?” Maybe I was getting a little snippy, but I could feel my eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion as the cold shock of the Bay was fading away, leaving me nothing but exhaustion and hunger to carry into the night..

“Find good friends, you need every edge you can get in this life sometimes, and there are few better than someone you can trust to watch your back.”

The image of my power, towering and menacing, brushing my hair or looking over cape magazines with me came to mind, and I couldn’t help but give an amused snort. “Yeah, I can see that. Friends can make or break you.”

Henry nodded acceptingly, not just in that he was happy I was agreeing with him, but I could see in how his eyes carefully watched me, how he kept a comfortable distance between us and didn’t ask the distinct questions any responsible adult probably would feel obligated to. His story about bad choices was bullshit, but if he wasn’t going to ask why a teenager was out alone at night and thought it was a good idea to take a swim in the Bay while fully clothed then I could probably respect the same.

“That,” he began again, “and know what places not to go. I shouldn’t have to say it but I’ve seen too many kids wander where they shouldn’t because they think that they don’t have to listen to what their parents say anymore and wind up taking a stroll through a gang’s territory.”

I knew the stories he was referring to, of teenage girls being swept off the street by the ABB or children of minorities by the E88. My Dad’s warnings of what places not to go echoed in my head. 

Henry’s tone shifted, not quite losing its levity entirely as it had earlier, but shifting, “Speaking of, stay away from River’s and Webb’s. I saw some gangs taking shots at each other earlier and stuff like this gets worse before it gets better. No place for kids out of school.”

“It’s Brockton Bay, it always gets worse before it gets better.” The cynicism rolled too easily off my tongue, but I’d seen what Dad’s efforts to get the ferry up and running again had rewarded. I tried to ignore how petulant and childish it made me sound, but I still couldn’t help tacking it on to the end, “I’m not a kid by the way.”

The insufferable bastard chuckled, eyes glimmering, “I can’t believe you’d be out of high-school if you went. So until I got something better to call you, you’re ‘kid’ to me.”

A name. I wasn’t going to give him my own name. I didn’t even have a cape name to give even if that wouldn’t be suspicious as hell. What would I even call myself?

“Anything but ‘kid’.”

I did not like the smile on his face.

“Alright, how ‘bout ‘ Little tequila? ‘Cabrito’? I’ve always wanted to call someone ‘Mañana’, or maybe you want something fancier-”

“Okay fine stop,” I interrupted, maybe I should’ve learned, ”Sonnie, then. It’s fake but if I remember right it means wisdom and I could probably use some more of that.”

Henry barked out a laugh, a single, short syllable of laughter before it devolved into a series of what may well be amused giggles from the man.

“Nice to meet you then, Sonnie.”

We stayed like that for a while, sitting on a pier not far from the Boardwalk under a night sky that held no stars.

Henry left before I did, pulling out another cigarette and remarking about not staying up too late, ‘it was a school night’ he said, as he wandered into the dark of the night.

Honestly, I was still afraid Henry was part of a gang, and I would find an unwelcome visit when I finally wandered off to sleep, but well… He was neither white nor asian, and from what I knew Coil employed mercenaries, not slobs. So if he was a part of a gang, at the very least he wasn’t a member of any of the big gangs.

That, and if he makes any moves I have a dinosaur friend in my pocket to eat his face with.

Laughter built up in my throat.

I wasn’t strong enough to resist it, nor did I try beyond the measliest attempts.

I collapsed into laughter in the dead of night.

It was almost foreign. It wasn’t that funny of a joke, either, but it was something that was there. Two voices laughed into the Bay, one a constant mix of low snorts and high-pitched cackles, the other deep and throating, both uncontrolled and unaccustomed to it, but both were mine.

My power supported my tumbling body, sharp claws holding me aloft through the blanket and preventing me from tumbling backwards further and possibly striking my head.

It was ridiculous, it was inaccurate, and I felt it was the first spoonful of freedom, served to me after everything.

It was getting easier to move both my bodies at once. I supported my own weight with terrifying claws as I pushed myself to my feet, and I brought my power low to the ground and.slung my body over its back and into an approximation of a riding position.

A spear-tipped tail picked up a bag of clothes and a poor man’s blanket, and human hands reached up to grab the items while another tail was directed to wrap around my waist. Seatbelts were important.

It was time to get some sleep.

Returning to sleep at the warehouse had taken longer than I thought it would last night. That’s what I attributed to how poorly I slept last night, and why I didn’t wake up until well past midday. That I had relegated myself to sleeping curled up by my power under an uncomfortable blanket on the hard concrete floor was also a definite contributing factor as to why I slept so poorly.

There was an office building in the warehouse, suspended in the loft above a quarter of the ground floor, but I’d found the stairs to it missing enough steps that I didn’t like the idea of my sleep deprived self trying to climb them.

I might’ve been able to use my power to lift myself up and ignore the staircase entirely, but I hadn’t wanted to risk that either. Leaving me trapped on the ground floor.

Sleeping up against my power was comforting, if not exactly comfortable. The armoured plates were stiff, and got in the way two-out-of-three times I tried to find a more comfortable position, and my power’s skin was strangely slick in a way that had definitely ruined my hair from the glances I’d gotten on the way to the cafe I was currently sitting in.

Not that I could tell, with the complete lack of bathroom or mirror to freshen up at all in the morning. 

But it was the sense of a body pressed up against mine, snuggled together with a blanket that was definitely too small shared between us. Bringing familiar half-blurred memories of childhood sleepovers. Even as I stared up at the warehouse ceiling, thinking in endless circles about what had happened that day.

It was strange, not having Dad and I mechanically wish each other a goodnight. Instead I was left trying to figure out what I would do the next day. How I would prove myself a hero no matter what those spiteful bitches no doubt spread about me.

The idea of devoting myself to utterly destroying them came to my mind of course. I even spent some time, dreamily fantasising about the best way to do it. I could sic my power on them and tear them limb for limb, but I felt that wouldn’t be as satisfying as it would be immediately gratifying.

Simply killing them, beyond all the legal and moral problems, would prevent the trio from getting what they truly deserved.

Instead I could be a hero, or maybe something hero-adjacent because fuck the PRT and everything and everyone else who was remotely connected to them.

I could be like Lustrum, or at least the Lustrum my mom used to tell me stories of, and not the radical group that ended up publicly castrating men. Trying to make the world better place through some sort of social movement because if those in power were actual fucking psychopaths then it was well-past time for something to change.

And if that fell through, I could destroy their lives and rip apart everything that brought those three bitches joy before leaving them to waste away in some ditch somewhere.

Spite could be a pretty effective motivator at the very least.

At any rate, as I sat at the cafe I had spent the last of the money I’d taken from that mugger purchasing a cheap breakfast, I’d need to keep an eye on my short term problems while I tried to figure out my long term ones.

It was while I was stretching my jaw in a tired yawn over a cheap breakfast bought at a decidedly mediocre cafe that I realised the flaw in my current plan.

It was an obvious flaw that any amount of thinking and common sense would point out, the kind of fundamental flaw in a plan born from not placing much thought into said plan before “I’ll do this”. The kind of flaw that a tired and exhausted mind will no doubt miss completely.

To be fair to my past-self, I hadn’t exactly made detailed plans for living on my own. So not a lot of research or forethought had been placed into how I would live and get by.

The flaw was, namely, that I couldn’t rely on taking money from muggers as a consistent source of income. That even consistently finding muggers might be harder over time if I keep picking them off in the same places, and to counteract that I’d either need to travel further from my warehouse to find them or not keep any consistent routes to patrol.

Is this what it’s like to be a hero? Lamenting about patrol routes over soggy omelettes?

I needed some way to get money, either consistently or in large enough quantities that I could still afford to eat while I looked for more.

Which meant, for now at least, I needed to search for low-level gang members and muggers and hopefully I wouldn’t run into any problems before I managed to grab another large enough score to sit tight on.

I took another bite of my omelette, its taste wasn’t anything I’d recommend and it wasn’t doing a particularly good job at filling my stomach, but it was the best the menu had.

The first thing I had to do was research. I could count on my fingers how many villainous capes lived in Brockton Bay that I knew the names of, and of those I did know I was willing to bet I didn’t know everything I could about their powers.

I didn’t want to get into a fight with someone who greatly outclassed me just because I failed to do any research..

I stood up from my table and dropped enough money to pay for my meal onto the table. Staring at the remains of my soggy omelette, I mentally debated whether or not I could afford to leave a tip.

A quick glance around the cafe helpfully reminded me how much the people who worked here probably needed it. The food was bad but I doubt anyone who worked here did so with a choice if they couldn’t find someplace nicer.

It was a bit of a walk, but I knew where the nearest library with a working public computer was. As I began walking out of the cafe, my thoughts turned to how I would organise any notes I made.

Actually…

I quickly backtracked back into the cafe and grabbed the remains of my omelette. I was still hungry.

I wouldn’t be able to afford a notebook, it was as simple as that. Maybe, once I had some excess money I could spend, I’d buy one along with a pen, but until then I’d have to rely on my own memory. 

By the time I’d entered the library my legs were aching, I’d underestimated how long the walk would be. Maybe it was stupid, and I was being overly cautious, but the sudden awareness of how limited my budget was made me reluctant to spend money on the bus fare, and I’d ended up walking the entire route there.

I slumped in my chosen chair and rubbed the back of my neck with a free hand, my head had been on a swivel during the later parts of my walk, I’d feared that someone might recognise me on the street and calling my father, or a stranger would think I was lost and calling the police to take me home. 

My eyes snapped open and I grabbed a hold of that mental cord that connected me and my power, reeling it in and pulling it tight against my gut. No one was screaming, and as I carefully scanned the rest of the library from where I sat, I saw no sign of anyone staring or having seen what had nearly happened. I took a measured breath as I forced myself to untense.

I’d slipped, if only briefly, and felt my power begin to manifest by my side.

Idiot.

No one had noticed anything, no one had seen a monster nearly appearing out of thin air. Which was good, the kind of public attention my power appearing inside of a public library would gather wasn’t good.

I really need to figure out the limits of my power.

With a press of a finger on the keyboard the monitor in front of me woke up and greeted me with a glaring pale light as I turned my attention back to the subject of research.

Brockton Bay had one of the largest cape to non-cape populations in the US, which meant a lot of reading and double-checking. PHO might be the largest and most popular cape-centric website, but it was a public website anyone could access and change. I wouldn’t be surprised if more than half the capes on the website wrote their own pages and included conspicuous gaps in the information given. Luckily, the BBPD and PRT ENE websites both had warnings about the current cape population, which while probably white-washed to some degree, did warn about specific dangers that might come in handy when encountering- and as they most often suggested, running away from- Brockton Bay's native villains.

It was when that initial font of information slowed to a leaky taps worth of reputable and new information for my research that I found something that caught my interest.

A new villain had allegedly appeared in Brockton Bay. A thread had already been started to discuss the villain’s appearance. I opened the thread in a new tab and clicked over to have a look.

The first thing I noticed was my own face staring back at me, right beneath a name written in big, bold font.

Beastie.

Chapter Text

Fuck.

I closed the page after reading the very first line. Because, apparently, I had attacked the school with my parahuman power like a deranged lunatic. I didn’t even want to know what else those bitches said about me. I was a villain, the PRT thought of me as a fucking villain because of that trio of spiteful, hateful, stupid, violent, psychopathic bitches.

They just can’t help themselves, can they?

The half-remembered, half-dreamt plans of utterly destroying them became all the more appealing.

Indulging in those dreams would make any plans to be a hero harder, but those were long-term goals anyways. I could go to sleep every night dreaming of it, and spend every day taking a step towards it, but waiting and figuring out some shorter-term stuff and dealing with more immediate rewards wouldn’t make revenge any less sweeter.

I wasn’t going to fool myself by calling those ideas heroic or justified. I wasn’t avenging or protecting anyone in those fantasies. It was revenge. They ruined my life? I’ll ruin theirs.

My current priority was getting myself into a position where I can live and work. Rather than struggling to survive. If I didn’t have to worry about my health deteriorating because I couldn’t afford food or got too sick, then I could dedicate more time to clearing my name and working towards some revenge.

Either or. We’ll see what it comes down to.

For that, I needed money. I had a better idea of what the villains in Brockton Bay were capable of now, and while a few of them were definitely people to run away from as fast as I could, others I could likely fight without too much risk. 

What I needed was to find some gang activity right now. If I could follow a skinhead to a drug stash or something, I could loot whatever cash I found while I trashed it.

Plus, I think I really needed to punch someone that deserved punching.

Didn’t Henry say something about…?

River’s and Webb’s. I didn’t know the area that well, only that it was closer to Downtown and Arcadia than it was to Winslow.

I stepped out of the library and frowned.

I could walk all the way there. It was certainly possible, but it would definitely eat up the rest of my day and leave me exhausted. Which brought the self evident problems that being exhausted in the wrong part of gave me even before the fact I was literally planning to hunt down some gang members was brought into the equation.. That left me taking the bus, which would trap me with a large group of strangers who could potentially recognise me and call the Protectorate. 

Neither were the most appealing options to say the least.

Which left…

Well, capes supposedly did it all the time anyway, didn’t they? I think I even remembered some nameless trivia piece about how newer cities and buildings were now taking into consideration the capes that chose to traverse their rooftops. 

All I’d have to do was make sure I walked the last bit of the trip so no one would immediately recognise me.

It took less than a minute to find and sneak into a nearby alley that was comfortable enough to do what I wanted in.

When my power stepped into the world, I almost collapsed as hunger all but decked me across the face and to the ground. I probably would’ve swore, if the fucking endless pit that was now present in my stomach wasn’t taking up so much of my attention.

I was grimacing when I finally found the strength to stand up, and my mind slowly organised itself. I wasn’t hungry. My goddamn power was, and I could feel it. All too desperate for attention in my mind now that it wasn’t being suppressed.

It felt like something had clawed out the bottom of my stomach, and my stomach had begun to nibble and bite at the rest of me to help patch that hole.

I took a deep breath with both my bodies, mostly to focus on the feeling of my lungs expanding and distract myself from how goddamn fucking hungry I was.

New addition to the agenda. Rob some gangsters, and then find a goddamn butcher’s shop and buy everything I can.

My power crouched and allowed me to clamber onto its back. It really wasn’t the most comfortable position, the weight of my own body was a bit too present in my mind as I shifted around trying to get comfortable. My power’s tail split into four hair-like tentacles at my will, and I barely felt the resistance of the bricks as I jammed their spear-like tips into the walls of the alley.

Alright, let’s see how this works. It’s not like I haven’t done this once before.

I clutched my power’s torso tighter as it lifted into the air. My power’s tentacles lifted as my power began to scale like a spider climbing up a wall. My power’s head was peeking over the roof not seconds after the climb began, revealing a dusty and empty space, home to what looked like a ventilation unit and nothing else. It wasn’t until my power’s entire body was lifted high enough that even its legs were above the roof-level that the shock of how easy the climb was wore off, and it was with surprising grace for a giant fuck-off monster as it stepped onto said rooftop.

My power is more graceful than I am. Giant fucking dinosaur squid spider monster is-

Didn’t matter. Did. Not. Matter. I let my power fall onto all fours rather than standing on two legs, suppressing a yelp from my human body at the sudden shift. I directed a tentacle to wrap itself around my waist like a seatbelt and got ready.

I focused on my power’s body and senses rather than my human ones. The roof ahead of me was in clear, crisp detail, far beyond what even my glasses provided, and even the next roof on the vague path I was mentally tracing was in a detail that went beyond human eyesight, but an issue became apparent when I looked to the third roof I planned to jump to.

My power is nearsighted?!

I choked back a scream. My power could barely see more than a blurry outline of the roof’s shape. 

Grumbling under my breath, I tried to let it go. It wasn’t any actual nearsightedness, but my power’s vision was poor after a certain length, with everything more than 60 feet away a blurry, unrecognisable mess that got worse and worse quickly . I was more mad I hadn’t noticed earlier than anything, even a quick glance from my human eyes let me see the roofs clearly enough to continue figuring out a path. 

It would mean I’d have to stick my head up on the occasion to navigate, but not much else.

Maybe I should get a pair or sport glasses so I don’t have to worry about losing them during a fight or something.

Somewhat self consciously, I slipped a hand to the side of my head to hold my glasses in place as I finally took off.

The sudden rush of wind as my power began to move likely would’ve left me tumbling out of place if it wasn’t for the seatbelt, and I could feel the familiar thrill of my hair whipping through the wind as I climbed over and sprinted across the rooftops.

I wasn’t sure exactly how fast we were going, and I found myself often limited by the wider streets and roads that I definitely couldn’t jump. Sticking close to the emptier streets let me occasionally climb down and sprint across, but those larger gaps were still what slowed me down the most, halting almost all of my momentum as I searched for a place to climb down and cross like it was a river through a forest.

I screamed when I found I had mistimed a jump, my power falling just short and crashing into the firm brickwork of the building. I heard the wrench and rending of an unfortunate fire escape as we crashed, the sound of whining iron as the fire escape began to split into pieces under my power’s weight. It made me appreciate how truly powerful my power’s tentacle hair must be when three tendrils shot out into the walls around us, yanking our second fall to a sudden stop before it could truly begin again.

It took me a moment to find my breath. My pulse was already racing from the exhilaration that roof-hopping had turned out to be, but now it felt like it was lodged into my throat. With slow, careful movements, I directed my power to slowly climb down and away from the pile of twisted metal that sat beneath us. I felt my seatbelt tighten around my waist as I stared at the twisted pile, my brain peppering me with all-too vivid images of what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been saved by my power.

We’re close enough. I can walk the last few streets.

More practice was needed.

Twin growls of hunger from both my bellies broke me out of my continued staring at the pile of rubble mere feet from me. It was time to go, and with slow reluctance I drew my power back into me and watched it disappear from the world.

My power’s- I really need to come up with a name for it - hunger was still there, but I felt like I was seeing it at the very edge of my vision. With barely enough detail to tell that it wasn’t my own body’s hunger when I concentrated on the feeling. A gnawing pit eroding its way through my body.

But it’s not from my body.

My mind began to wander as I stepped out of the alley and onto the street. It was, by technicality, my body. A body I owned. I wouldn’t call myself an expert about how cape powers worked - I’d been more interested in the heroes and their accomplishments than the gritty detail of how Miss Militia was able to shape working weapons and ammunition out of…

Was it some sort of energy? Some sort of malleable… something?

I spent a brief moment wondering whether or not it would be better to be shot by Miss Militia or a regular gun.

You probably wouldn’t have to dig out the bullet from the wound with Miss Militia at the very least.

Unless the bullets stick around…? No, they’d be collector's items if they did.

I wasn’t sure exactly who would want to collect Miss Militia's energy bullets or how much they’d go for, but I was certain that if they did stick around I would’ve heard something about them sticking around and being sold as a collector’s item.

So they probably don’t. Which… doesn’t help me figure out if this is weird or not. Do all capes that summon or create living things have to worry about keeping them fed?

Going through a quick list of capes I knew that could summon living things didn’t help. Probably because that list started and ended with a single entry, and I didn’t think Nilbog and my own power were that comparable.

I summon a single monster from a… pocket dimension? He… creates life?

I struck Nilbog name from the admittedly very small list mentally titled “Capes whose power’s I definitely know”.

 A small growl that I couldn’t completely discount as coming purely from my power’s stomach prompted me to pick up the pace.

Work first. I’ll figure it out later.

River’s and Webb’s turned out to be a collection of corner stores, and I wasn’t entirely surprised to see that the corner that it had was cordoned off. Yellow police tape and barricades running across the road in a way that would’ve prevented someone from just walking in.

If the sole cop I could see was paying any actual attention.

Brockton fucking Bay.

River’s and Webb’s itself was…

Pretty fucking empty .

I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting. Did I really think I’d just be able to find an Empire Eighty-Eight thug and follow them all the way to a hideout of some sort?

The more time I spent around myself, the more of an idiot I realised I was.

I don’t even know if the E88 is involved. It could be Coil’s Organisation or the ABB for all I know.

The street was empty, and while most of the buildings seemed likewise evacuated of life, one building stuck out as the source of it all. A narrow building nested in between what looked like a hair salon and what might be some sort of groccer. It was, or at least gave the appearance of, a laundromat. Large panes of glass made up most of the front wall, looking into a room that reminded me of a grocery store. Two aisles, laundry machines and tumble dryers stacked against the walls of the building while a double sided shelf of machines split the room down the middle.

The windows of the home were shattered, and I could see small dents and bullet holes pockmarking the machines.in a haphazard spray as I approached.

Not a whole lot of blood though. Did everyone who was shooting miss?

Glass crunched under the souls of my shoes as I walked into the store and over to the nearest machine. I could see how the holes were the bullets punched straight through the thin metal, and even with only the afternoon light that filtered through the unlit store’s window I could tell that the machines' insides were completely trashed when I opened the lid and looked inside.

Could a few bullets do this much damage? I looked back and forth between the entry holes and the machines’ insides.

They don’t line up. Was the machine on when it was shot then?

It seemed like it, and I would imagine that bullets flying into the machines as they were running would’ve done a lot more damage than it would have if the machine was still, and while I was definitely no expert it might explain why the inside was so damaged if it had some barely slowed bullets bouncing around inside.

If the bullets were shot from outside…

I glanced to my side, down the rows of machines. The haphazard lines of bullet holes died off after the first machines, but even the following ones were damaged. The- is cases the right word? - cases and glass windows of the various machines were crumpled, cracked, or shattered, and as I went to take a closer look I could immediately see how these ones were all… attacked with something blunt.

So some people drove up, shot out the windows and the first few machines, and then ran in and broke the rest of the machines as well?

That still left me one nagging question.

What was the point of it all?

Why would a gang attack a laundromat and destroy all the machines?

It would depend on the gang, wouldn’t it? If it was E88 it could be because it was owned by anyone who isn’t white and straight. The ABB might do something if the owner was asian and decided not to give the ABB what they wanted. Coil’s Organisation…. Probably wouldn’t do anything unless it was owned by one of the other gangs.

I blinked.

Fuck, it was obvious. This place was a front or a place to launder money. Henry even said he thought two gangs were involved, didn’t he? Which made it pretty obvious why it was attacked. Break into the laundromat, interrupt business, do enough damage that it’ll be costly to repair but not enough that whoever owned this place would write it off and not bother.

And even after this place gets fixed up, I can’t imagine a whole lot of customers would be coming through. It’ll make it harder to launder money and the other gangs know to watch anyone who still comes and goes to this place with any frequency anyways.

If this was a place to launder money, they’d have money in it to launder right?

I slipped away from the machines and further into the laundromat. The aisles of machines fell away, leaving a small space between the aisles and the back of the store where cushioned benches were pushed up against the walls. An ugly grey door with EMPLOYEES ONLY in large print letters being the only thing of note I could see.

If this place was owned by a gang…

The only response when I tried the handle was a stubborn rattle.

Locked. Not damaged either. Surely whoever was attacking would’ve checked the employees only areas for loot, wouldn’t they? Especially since it didn’t look like anyone was on the main floor to put up much of a resistance.

Henry implied it was a fight between the two gangs though, not a one-sided smash-and-trash. Now, maybe random weirdos on the street weren't the best font of reliable information, but…

It’s the only source of information I got. Plus, they wouldn’t block off the whole street unless something happened.

I blinked.

Oh, that’s quite obvious.

Reinforcements arrived. Fought off whoever was attacking before they got a chance to break into the employees only area.

Let’s hope the reinforcements didn’t get time to grab whatever is inside either.

I stepped to my side, and I felt my hunched shoulders drop an inch or two as my power stepped into the world.

Smiling, I looked my power up and down, and I could see with perfect clarity that faces both monstrous and human shared the same grin.

My power’s tail split into its four base tentacles.I spent less than a breath aiming before their bladed tips shot forward and punched through the locked door. I took a courtesy step back with my human body before pulling with my power, and was treated with a multi-perspective view of the door being torn into an explosion of useless pieces.

With a mental tug I coiled my power back into my body and stepped through into the employees area.

There wasn’t much to see inside, a small storage room that lacked the tiled floor of the main room, and two simple doors. One was helpfully labelled as a bathroom, the other was half opened and showed what seemed to be a break room, an inexpensive plastic table and bulky-looking fridge visible through the half opened door.

The ‘kitchen’ of the break room wasn’t much to look at either, a sink, a kettle, a small bench to work on, a cutting board that hadn’t been washed in who-knows how long, and a half-full garbage can tucked away in a corner. The cupboard underneath the sink was half-full with glass cups, the rest of the space taken up by piping. I was eying the kettle, wondering how much money it might be possible to stuff inside of it, when I heaved the fridge door open to take a look inside.

I almost slammed the door immediately shut when I saw all that was inside were a couple of cereal boxes. Content with the frustrating knowledge that I apparently share the same taste in cereal as gangsters who spend all day sitting in a laundromat.

My arm protested almost painfully when I suddenly tried to arrest the motion of the door slamming closed.

Who the hell leaves five opened cereal boxes in the breakroom fridge?

It was with hungry glee that I swung the door back open wide and ripped out one of the cereal boxes, the absence of the rattle of cereal inside, yet the undeniable weight of something inside the box filled my heart with triumph as I tilted the packaging and looked at my well earned prize.

I tucked the box under my arm and reached out, grabbing the rest and holding them tight against my chest.

In all likelihood it wasn’t a lot of money, not in the grand scheme of things. More money than I’d expected out of a simple place for a gang to launder money, but maybe this place was a drop off point for cash for deals as well or something.

Either way, it was more than enough money for me to comfortably live off of for a while.

I wasn’t sure if the smile on my face was dopey, or shit-eating, but I definitely knew that it would hurt if I continued to smile this hard for too much longer, and as I stepped back onto the main floor I was sure there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

“That’s not yours to take, Beastie.”

My whole body froze, and I felt my grin slowly melt off my face as I took in who spoke.

There, standing in the empty doorway of the store with an air of casual confidence not even the most arrogant bitches of Winslow could pull off, stood a woman. Or maybe she was an older teen. Somewhat androgynous. She wore an outfit which would’ve been appropriate for a classic mime, if a rainbow hadn’t barfed all over it. Replacing what would’ve been simple black stripes with an eye-searing array of colours that burned into the mind. It was almost physically hard to stay concentrated on the white painted face that sat underneath a ‘simple’ rainbow beret. A blank white domino mask sat on her face.

I never understood fashion, even when I had friends who did their very best to try and make me understand. I was sure, however, that the sudden absence of rainbows on the pants, replaced instead by large, fat stripes of various shades of dark purple and black, only made the outfit worse.

Circus, probably. My mind supplied.

A part of my mind recognised the feeling of my power beginning to uncoil, appearing between us even as I took a careful step away from the villain.

This is going to be my first cape fight, isn’t it?

I felt like I was a child, hiding behind the legs of their parents as they were introduced to other kids at the playground or at school. Brushing off the feeling wasn’t helping, and I did my best to accept it. I was, from what my research had turned up on the PRT power classifications, a Master. It would never be my place to fight on the frontline. Hiding behind my power was my only choice here against a more physical cape.

If I knew how to fight, if I was fit, fuck- even if I had simply brought something other than the shitty fucking knife I don’t know how to use!

But no, there wasn’t much I could do myself beyond directing my power to fight for me. I couldn’t even pull out the one weapon I had on me while I was still awkwardly holding the cereal boxes of cash.

Whatever trepidation I felt about the upcoming fight I swallowed, and that appeared to be the unwritten signal that our fight had begun. The villain lunged forwards, and my power’s eyes caught the almost lazy throwing motions she made moments before I felt my human body flinching as pain raced through my shins.

I relegated the thoughts of my human body stumbling backwards and finding the throwing knives that had landed behind me. I stepped forwards with my monstrous form, sending scything claws through the air, I had to take her attention away from my human body.

Circus was dancing between my strikes, stepping and contorting herself to be irritatingly out of reach, an almost mocking smile on her face. I could feel a low growl building in my throat as my frustration grew. I flung my arm out in another wide swing hoping to hit something or maybe just back her into a corner, when I saw Circus suddenly step forward, far too close for comfort, and a large, colourfully painted sledgehammer falling out of the air in her hands.

The hammer fell, and I felt like I’d taken a sucker punch to the face. My human body winced in pain with the hit, but it wasn’t enough to so much as stun my power. I threw my body into a pivot, my tail lashing out like a club behind me. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Circus ducking under the strike, bent over like my tail wasn’t much more than a limbo bar as it swept over her and crashed into some now thoroughly obliterated laundry machines.

I split my tail, unravelling the intertwined limbs and sent them hurtling back towards Circus, seeking to wrap around her limbs.

For a brief moment I thought victory would be mine, before a bolt of fire flew towards my human head. I let out a startled yelp, and threw myself to the side the best I could while awkwardly holding the cereal boxes of money.

It was very quickly I realised one key thing.

I have no idea how to fight as a cape.

My Dad and a good couple of the dockworkers had all taught me how to throw a punch, not that I had the muscle to pull it off, but I had no idea where to start with my power beyond trying to wildly hit things.

My attention snapped back into focus as I felt something heavy drop onto my power’s tentacles. Multiple things, in fact, as I felt my balance shift and my power beginning to tumble forwards. 

Large bricks had suddenly appeared atop my power’s tentacles, not enough to pin them down or burden them, but I still felt Circus slipping out of my grasp as I tried to recover from the unexpected extra weight. With one of my bodies- I wasn’t entirely sure which- I grimaced and tossed the cereal boxes sliding across the floor and away from the fight.

Sending my power into another pivot, I threw another clawed fist in the vague location I hoped Circus might be. I could see how easily the rainbow-clad cape dodged the attack. Sending three of my tendrils spearing forward, I continued the onslaught to keep her dodging around my power.

It worked, until I saw a small cylinder suddenly appear in Circus’ hands and the sudden bang and flashed that followed her tossing it towards my power.

Flailing blindly, I did my best to toss one of the bricks in Circus’ direction with my last tentacle.

A brick flying past my human head as I tried to crawl out of sight was more than enough to halt my wild, blind flailing. I turned my head and used it to direct my power, only to swallow a yelp when I felt Circus grab me from behind and lift me by my collar. 

“ Stop. ” Was her most immediate demand, whispered into my ear with hushed urgency.

I would’ve fought, flailed and tried to escape while I sent my power in for round two. Maybe I would’ve tried to draw my knife if I didn’t think it would be stolen into Circus’ hammerspace as soon as she noticed it.

Instead I felt something cool and sharp against my collar and froze. 

“You listening?”

Fighting the urge to swallow, I gave a shakey, shallow nod.

“First, you’re going to call off your monster. Make it disappear, step outside, whatever the fuck, got it?”

I gave another shakey nod, my throat far too tense to even consider speaking to the villain who held a knife to my neck.

But I could work with this, I could get out of this, I wasn’t going to die here.

My power backed off under my direction, its vision slowly returning as it backed out of the store and into the open street. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the lone cop I’d spotted earlier laid out flat on their back on the tarmac road.

I couldn’t tell whether he was dead or not.

Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I hoped that it was a radio or something in their hands.

“Now, here’s how it’s going to go,” she began, “we’ll walk over so I can collect the cash I was promised. You’re going to stay still and keep your power from doing anything. Got it?”

“Got it.” My voice was quiet, barely louder than a breath. But it seemed either Circus heard nonetheless, or just didn’t care as she began to drag me towards where I’d tossed the boxes of cash.

If Circus gets close enough she’ll be able to pick up the money with her hammerspace.

I couldn’t allow that to happen, not when the whole point of this stupidly fucking planned idea was to get some money so I didn’t have to resort to any other stupid fucking ideas.

Why is Circus even here!?

In the corner of my power’s vision I saw something else, and an idea which, amazingly, might actually work struck..

Injecting as much honest curiosity as I could into my voice, I spoke. “Why are you even here? I didn’t think a laundromat would be a premiere target for a thief.”

The villain drew up short, looking at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite work out from either of my points of vision.

Time to keep talking, I guess, “I mean, I just came here because I was hoping I could pick up whatever loot may of been left behind before whoever owned this place returned for it-” Not completely true, but close enough, “which, in hindsight, wasn’t a great plan, but you’re a professional thief, aren't you? Why would you be here? A laundromat is hardly-”

Being suddenly yanked forward cut off whatever else I was going to blab about, and the abrupt “Shut up.” from Circus and the slight press of her knife against me was enough to buy my silence.

But I’d bought a few seconds.

And it turned out that was enough.

I pulled my power into me, and witnessed it disappear from reality moments before a rust-red shape slammed down feet from where it had just been.

Aegis. Who else do I have to worry about though?

Placing as much mortal terror into my voice as possible, I began screaming.

Aegis, being the hero he was, snapped their attention to the source of the screaming.

Circus, it seemed, also turned her attention towards where I was looking at the same time.

I felt Circus’ knife disappear at the same moment she pushed me away from her, and turned her attention to the Wards.

I smiled, and let the coil of tension release from my gut.

My power, as it seemed to always do, appeared right where I wanted it to. It hadn’t ever appeared more than a few feet away from me, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

Lunging out of nothingness, my power manifested.

Right between me and Circus, a limb already swinging at the clown-themed cape.

Whatever dodging abilities Circus’ powers helped grant, they didn’t grant her any part of superspeed, and I grinned in triumph as I watched the rainbow-clad cape be flung towards the now-charging Ward.

Wasting no time I sent my human body to gather the boxes and ensure the cash was inside while I monitored the ensuing fight between Circus and Aegis. It was clear that Circus wanted to break away from the fight and either get away or make a break for the money, but Aegis; attacks were relentless even if they were mostly hitting air. Keeping my power’s body on all-fours and at the ready, I barely needed to do anything but menace the space between myself and the fight to keep them away.

It was just after I had grabbed the third box of cash that things really started to go to shit, two bright sparks of light shot through the open entrance of the building and nailed my power in the side.

A quick glance to the entrance let me see Kid Win, clad in red and gold, standing on his hoverboard with tinkertech pistols in hand and aiming at my power.

He fired again, and the sparks of whatever tinkertech bullshit he was firing stung like a bitch.

Time to go.

I practically jumped into a riding position on my back, my tentacles grabbing onto my airborn body and placing it in position as easily as I could clap my hands.

Seatbelt secured, and loot in hand, I broke into a sprint around Circus and Aegis and straight at Kid Win hovering in the entrance.

Watching what was visible of Kid Win’s expression morph into temporary terror as I charged towards him brought a satisfied grin to at least one of my faces, even as he rose into the air and I crashed through the space he had just occupied been.

Wasting as little time as possible, I buried the temptation to flip either Kid Win or Circus off, and burst into a sprint down the empty street.

I had to hand it to Kid Win, he didn’t waste time standing still, a quick glance from one of my heads confirmed he was following after me on his hoverboard. I could also see the sparks of light erupted from his tinkertech pistols in short bursts as he tried to hit me.

Luckily his aim was shit.

Or maybe it was the giant monster I was riding?

Doesn’t matter.

Turning my attention back to the road ahead, I began to think.

If I follow the roads he’s going to chase after me and he’ll have back-up after me soon enough. Climbing a roof would cut down on the options available to chase me, but he might be able to keep up since he won’t have to worry about having to climb or jump.

So I needed somewhere enclosed. Where he couldn’t fly and where vehicles couldn’t follow.

Isn’t there a mall nearby?

There was, wasn’t there? Bay Mall, wasn’t it? It had that weird swirly pattern on its roof and whenever it was brought up in conversation people confused it with Brockton Bay Central Mall. There was the problem that I couldn’t remember exactly where it was other than vaguely ‘nearby’ though.

Easy fix. Climb a building, find it, get a heading, weave between low rooftops and ground to get there as fast as possible? Get to the mall, lose them there.

That’d work.

I drove my power closer to the buildings that lined the street, but rather than climb it like I had before, I decided to jump.

The jump gave surprising height, enough that when I dug my hands, feet, and the tips of the tentacles into the brickwork I didn’t hit the windows or door. Running along the wall was trickier than expected, but it kept me moving even as I was steadily gaining height with quick hops assisted by my tentacles which I was still amazed could support my weight.

My grin couldn’t have been any wider when I made it to the rooftop, and saw the recognisable roof of Bay Mall peeking out of a cluster of nearby buildings.

Which made all the spark of light hitting my shoulder all the more surprising, especially since, unlike when it had hit my power earlier, this time it hurt like a bitch. The slow creeping numbness running down my arm from that shoulder wasn’t doing anything to help either.

Tightening my grip of the boxes with my other arm, my power lunged back into motion. I’d seen my destination, closer than I thought it was actually, and I was confident that getting to the mall and causing some chaos would give me a chance to slip away.

Losing Kid Win beforehand would be nice.

Sprinting across the rooftops seemed to become even easier at the height of adrenaline, rather than the bumpy, somewhat painful ride it was earlier. I leaped to the next building and sent two tentacles to plunge into the brickwork, practically slingshotting myself and my power up the wall even as I dug in my claws and got a grip.

My third tentacle I sent towards a nearby air conditioning unit as we jumped onto the rooftop proper, slicing a chunk of the metal box and stabbing through the freed chunk to carry along with me.

Taking a chance to glance back I saw Kid Win flying after me still. His hoverboard didn’t make him as fast as Dauntless or any of New Wave’s flyers, but I could see it gave him an appreciable agility in the air, managing to dodge the chunk of thrown machinery with ease.

Briefly flicking my human head back to looking ahead to make sure I knew where I was going before returning my attention back to Kid Win.

Not going to hit him by throwing anything, too inaccurate. Might be able to hit him with a tentacle if I trick him to fly close enough, but I don’t know how secure he is on that hoverboard and I’d rather not chance him falling.

Which meant letting him chase me till I could lose him.

Another spark of light flashed past my head.

What fun.

Chapter Text

My body was pressed against my power’s back as the chase continued, hoping I was as narrow a target as I could be and that I was imagining the smell of sizzling hair that was following me.

If my hair was - even more - ruined after this from Kid Win managing to burn it I was going to take those tinkertech pistols and beat him over the head with them. 

The… annoyance was still firing at me as he chased. Not often, but just enough so that every once in a while I’d see a spark of light flash past and send my heart on a brief mission through my throat so that my brain could tell it to calm the fuck down I’m not hit I’m fine.

Which was true, I hadn’t been hit for the most part. He’d gotten that one shot that had made my arm numb earlier - and that was already beginning to fade - and while the shots that hit my monster still stung they did fuck all besides that.

Shooting out two of my tails to help swing myself around a corner, I held a grin on two faces as the Bay Mall came into sight.

Triumph!

I almost laughed as I fell, old tarmac was cracking beneath me as I landed in a car park

The sight of a PRT van parked out front of the entrance to the mall was enough to halt all thoughts of celebration. A large hose connected to the van was pointed in my direction, as were many flamethrower-like weapons held by the PRT grunts. 

My feelings of victory crashed to the ground when I noticed the man wearing the golden lion gladiator outfit standing with them.

Triumph!

My power was already moving though, and I only spent a brief conflicted second internally debating whether my survival outweighed the destruction of property.

Well, more destruction of property. I thought back to all the buildings, windows, and ventilation systems I’d damaged on the way to get here.

That hesitation cost me as I jumped behind the nearest car, as I felt something cling to the end of one of my tentacles.

A quick backwards glance while my power began to dart between the cover of cars let me confirm the obvious. An inelegant blob of yellow-white foam was stuck to one of my tails, smashing into and denting some of the surrounding cars.

Passing a large, and because I didn’t particularly care for any guilt at the moment, likely gang-owned , featureless white van. I reached out with my power’s clawed fists and ripped its door from its frame. I had barely enough time to register a poster of a literal swastika inside the van before a brief flash of light glanced off the van as well.

Oh great, you’re still here too.

Rearing my power onto two legs allowed me to awkwardly hold the van door in place, even if my clawed digits were constantly digging and scraping along the door trying to keep it in place. The adrenaline pumping charge that followed as I rushed towards the PRT soldiers, a van door held in front of me like a shield, had me screaming and laughing.

This is the stupidest thing I have ever done.

The shield was getting heavier as foam piled onto it, but I was just happy none of it was landing on me as I broke my way through their ranks, and if my aim was right - straight into Triumph as well.

Surprise bought me a second, which is the only thing that saved me from my own idiocy as I realised hey now they’re behind me and my shield is pointing the wrong way!

Sending my power into a frantic pivot was enough for my shield to catch half the incoming foam, but my heart sank as I felt foam land and begin to solidify on my power’s leg.

Fuck! No no no! The door is right there! I could-

A desperate, altogether terrible idea popped into my head.

Oh I hate myself.

Lifting myself from the driver’s position with my ‘seatbelt’, I gave the PRT no chance to prepare as I threw myself towards the mall doors..

I only had a moment of airtime to brace before I was rolling along concrete and my screaming- I had been screaming?- became muffled suggestions of pained gasps.

Pushing myself to my hands and knees, I did my best to power through the protests of my body even as I felt my power struggle and become trapped in a barrage of foam.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the smarter PRT grunts pointing their foam sprayer in my direction.

It happened in an instant.

Yellow-white foam began to erupt from the barrel.

I tugged on that cord of power that connected us, pulling it tight.

My power disappeared.

I uncoiled the well of tension in my gut, my power springing free like a whip.

A roar of challenge filled my ears as my power appeared in front of me, free of any foam.

The rest was a blur of motion and loud noise as I picked up the boxes of money, monstrously sharp claws gently lifting me before we barreled through the - huh they locked the doors, should’ve expected that - doors to the mall together.

I felt my power begin to be encased in foam again, but in the crack of a whip I was already running on my own two legs while my freed power distracted the PRT.

The mall was filled with screams and panicking civilians, none of which seemed to realise who I was as I ran through the mall as fast as my legs could take me. If anyone did recognise me at the very least, their screams and panic was drowned out by everyone else’s as my power continued its rampage.

Need to change what I’m wearing. Need something to hold the money in as well.

Fighting my way through the crowds, I began making my way towards anywhere I thought might have what I needed while I furiously tried to remember the layout of the mall and where those locations might be.

A department store ended up being what I stumbled into. My shoes beat against a cold and grey concrete floor as I ran through the store, scanning through the various unhelpfully vague section signs that hung from the store’s ceiling.

When I did spot the section I desired I broke into a full sprint towards the racks of duffle bags.

Even with my power fighting numerous PRT grunts and the freed Triumph, I still couldn’t stop the creeping voice of panic entering my mind.

There could be more of them searching the store right now I don’t have time.  

My heart was hammering a million miles a minute, and every snatched glance of real or imagined movement sent my human body looking in that direction to find the source while I piled the stolen money into one of the smaller duffle bags.

It was only when I was zipping the bag closed and sprinting towards the clothes section of the store that the thought that I have no idea where Kid Win is entered my mind.

Really, it was only the idea that I was fucked if someone found me anyway, and the need to focus on continuing the fight with my power, that kept me from completely freezing up.

I pulled off the baggy hoodie I was wearing and stuffed it into the duffle bag moments before grabbing a jacket off a rack - a denim thing covered in patches, the hood it came with was a pleasant surprise - and putting it on as fast as I was physically able, praying to nothing in particular that I didn’t somehow get tangled or make a mistake putting it on and waste time having to correct it.

The hood of the jacket I kept down, instead ripping off a cap for some sort of sports team to wear.

Stuffing as much of my hair as I could into the cap, I placed my duffle bag on my shoulder and began making my way out of the store. I just hoped my disguise was enough to pass a casual inspection.

Taking a deep breath, I began making my way out of the store and the mall.

Triumph is here, as is a squad of PRT goons. Are any other heroes here as well?

That could complicate things. I hadn’t seen any other heroes through my power’s eyes. What if there were more surrounding the mall looking for me?

Guess I’ll just have to hope this disguise is good enough.

And if not?

Cornered rats bite.

Making my way out of the mall was…

Easier than I feared, to be honest. Joining an onrushing crowd let me go unnoticed as I made my way towards one of the open fire exits.

Triumph couldn’t hurt me, even when I picked him up and threw him into walls. Containment foam was the bigger threat. I had to preserve every inch of manoeuvrability I could. 

Which led to my focus drifting away from my human awareness and returning to my more monstrous half.

I couldn’t risk more of their attention turning to finding me. I had to keep them distracted.

Internally, I grimaced, even as I directed my power towards another group of escaping civilians.

I don’t have to hurt them. I just have to get near them so the PRT thinks I might.

That the PRT troops seemed less willing, although not completely unwilling, to use containment foam on civilians was a little bit of a bonus.

Even if that really just meant I was using them as meat shields.

My grimace worsened.

If I get caught I’m done for. Just a little longer.

The exit was already in sight. An open emergency door, the green sign above it bright and illuminated. Drawing the panicked like moths to a flame.

Does that make me a moth too?

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a moth. Foolish and fragile, but it really wasn’t the time to debate such things.

Outside the fire exit was a crowd, filling the air with a buzzing hum of hushed whispers and grumbles, the rhythms broken by the occasional piercing shout of a name as clicks and groups searched for their lost flock.

My shoulders hunched and my back stiffened as I drew the phantom cord that connected us back into myself. Drawing one into the other even as I kept half a mind on continuing to shuffle through the crowd, muttering half-heard apologies whenever I felt myself bump into or shove past someone.

For the briefest of seconds I saw Triumph’s expression - or at least what could be seen of it under the concealing lion helm - morph from a determine grimace into confusion as the lunge my power had been preparing failed to land on time, and the foe he had been fighting disappeared in the wind.

It was with a more furtive glances that I found the way to the edge of the building crowd. I almost stepped out into the open. Ready to escape and return to the warehouse and safety.. 

I had almost stepped into the open before I heard him and my entire body froze.

A clear voice, carried across the din of muttering and talking voices, half-familiar in the way you’d recognise an actor you saw on TV once every few weeks.

Slinking back into the crowd and away from the edge, I did my best to peek through the mass of bodies and see the source of the voice.

Kid Win stood in front of the crowd, speaking words I didn’t bother listening to beyond the general message. Platitudes to remain calm, and that the Protectorate and PRT have things well-in-hand, that no one was to wander away or leave just yet.

They sent people to guard the exits. They don’t want people leaving because they don’t want me to escape while they’re not looking.

Which meant that, sooner or later, now that they weren’t fighting me, they’d start letting people go as they searched the crowd of bystanders to find where I was hiding.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Fucked over at the last hurdle because I didn’t notice the flaw in my stupid fucking plan.

I need to slip away.

Can’t slip away while they’re stopping anyone from leaving. Can’t slip away when they are letting people leave, my disguise wasn’t good enough to buy more than a second glance.

Confusion, chaos then. If everyone starts running and I throw something at the heroes, they might not see me get away with the crowd.

It left a bad taste in my mouth, but I didn’t really see any other options.

Surreptitiously, I crept closer to Kid Win. Sinking deeper into the crowd and doing my very best to remain out of sight. Travelling along until, through the concealment of people, Kid Win was directly in front of me.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared to run.

My power unspooled, announcing its towering presence with a breathtaking roar.

The crowd scattered, screaming and terrified. I ran with them, my head low.

My power leapt, over the crowd and through the sky, it’s entwined tail slamming into Kid Win. The sudden gasp as I sent his body into the ground was satisfying, as was watching him struggle to recover his breath and stand. This was someone who’d shot at me, who knew and worked with one of The fucking Trio.

My tail brushed Kid Win aside as I ran past him. I ran just far enough to hopefully give them the wrong idea of where I was going before I forced my power to vanish from the world. My human awareness snapping into sharp focus as all my power saw and felt became muffled through our connection.

A smug, self-satisfied thought crept into my mind as I jogged away from the chaos.

I win.

My arriving at the warehouse was met by a wave of exhaustion passing through my body. I probably would’ve collapsed where I stood in the doorway if my control hadn’t slipped and allowed my power to catch me.

There was no way to say I didn’t look pathetic as I dragged myself into the warehouse. It hurt to breathe, and I wasn’t sure if that was due to the exhaustion that had built throughout my day or caused by the painful ache all across my chest. My legs felt numb, although I couldn’t be sure if the cause was the long jog back to the warehouse or the red, wet welts that cut my legs.

It took me a moment of squinting and staring at the wounds before I managed to place them. Intellectually, I recognised throwing knives as a stupid move in a fight - no matter how action movies made it looked.

But that just proves how bullshit powers can be if Circus can make it work.

Those thoughts did nothing to stop the queasy shifting of my stomach as the angry welts continued to stare up at me.

I lost that staring match and laid myself onto the floor in defeat. With careful movements, I pulled my bag of clothes open with a pair of giant claws. The movements to rummage around without poking any holes into or tearing the bag to bits was painfully slow going, and learning the delicacy that was required to actually hold the shirt between two razor-clad digits without making tearing a new hole into the fabric cost two attempts and half a pint of frustration.

Said frustration bubbled when I finally managed to retrieve the shirt and lay it onto the ground.

Trailing a single claw along the ground allowed and atop the fabric of the shirt made me some snazzy fucking bandages.

If by ‘snazzy’ you meant made from the literal torn scraps of a shirt.

Grumbling, I tied the fabric over one of the welts, not that I was sure having a bandage there would actually do anything beyond not forcing me to look at it.

I look fucking homeless.

I think I zoned out for a minute, staring at the bandages in silence. Only brought back to the world of the thinking by the gnawing ache that sat in both my stomachs.

I had food for money now, at the very least. My power helpfully shoved the bag closer to where I sat, even as it paced and prowled around me like an overprotective lioness.

It was satisfying in some strange way. The faint, almost whining sound, of the duffle bag unzipping and the gradual reveal of the cash piled into the bottom of the bag. It wasn’t anything special, nor amazing, nor probably that much money.

But it felt like a treasure, all the same.

I grinned as I sent a deft tentacle to drag my bag of clothes next to me. There was no point in carrying two bags, not when one was a cheap plastic one that will no doubt fall apart sometime in the next few days if I continued to use it.

Plus, maybe if someone finds my bag, if all they see is clothes they might not look further?

Locks only kept the honest out, so if someone knew I had money a layer of clothes wouldn’t do anything to hide it anyway. My hands grabbed my clothes in clumsy handfuls before shoving them into the open duffle bag with a sort of lazy ferocity.

The zipper fought against me when I finally tried to zip it up, catching on my clothes every few inches.

I could’ve stopped and repacked properly, and I probably should’ve. There was no point in keeping the only clothes I owned a disorganised mess beyond my own stubborn refusal to reorganise things properly and get it sorted.

I refused and continued to fight against the zipper, undeterred.

The final few inches of the zipper were the most difficult, and I found myself growling with frustration as I struggled against the zipper at what felt to be every single fucking tooth.

When it was finally done, and my bag was sealed tight and resting on my lap, I let out a breath of air and relaxed.

It really wasn’t all that big. It was about as wide as my lap was as I sat cross legged, maybe a bit smaller, made in that recognisable cylinder shape, made out of some sort of thick material that I had no idea the name of and would likely never try to find.

But it was big enough, more than large enough to fit all my clothes and money with room to spare for…

For anything else I came to own.

The back of my eyes began to sting, the feeling building into I felt the space just behind my eyes burn .

Sucking in a breath, I felt my whole body shudder.

The tears broke, and my second breath became a jagged sob, the sound scraping its way out of my throat as the burning in my eyes grew.

I could feel warm tears trailing down my cheeks, and I saw the droplets that fell from my chin to land on the bag that sat in my lap.

My entire fucking life.

I tried to hold it back, to stop . To suck in and create a barricade between me and my tears.

The first attempt burst in under a second, the barricade shattering and a pained wailing sound leaving my mouth as another sob choked through me.

I didn’t want to cry, no one wanted to cry but I especially didn’t want to fucking cry.

I’m fucking homeless. A criminal. Dad- 

I didn’t know if the PRT had done anything to my Dad. Had he been arrested?

I don’t fucking know.

Interrogated?

I don’t fucking know.

Did the PRT even know?

I don’t fucking know.

The thoughts became disjointed, and I felt my body fold in on itself, shudders and spasms and the feeling of warm tears on wet cheeks the only sensations in my mind as I-

Useless. Criminal. Homeless. Worthless. Villain. Pathetic. Nothing. Fucking nothing.

I was just- fucking nothing. What even fucking was I thinking? Had I been fucking thinking? Why had I fought the fucking PRT useless piece of shit everything in this fucking city is fucking useless It’s the PRTs fucking fault it’s fucking the fucking Trio and Sophia and Emma and fucking petty little Madison and fucking stupid idiot what were you fucking thinking-

I didn’t…

I couldn’t do anything.

Couldn’t do anything but fucking cry.

Cry myself to sleep.

Fucking useless.

Chapter Text

I felt like shit when I woke up, collapsed in and curled up around myself while awkwardly cradling my stolen duffle bag like a child’s treasured toy.

Complete and absolute shit.

The memory of why I had woken up that way sent an echo of despair and nausea through my stomach, and I could feel the slight burn at the back of my eyes even as I tried to fight the nausea down. I had to hold it back though, crying right now would just be even more fucking useless. With a sniff I fought the tears down, turning my thoughts elsewhere. A distraction would be… not nice, but better.

I was hungry, I hadn’t eaten anything beyond breakfast last night and my power still felt starved . I wasn’t sure how much meat my power was going to end up eating, but I was willing to bet I could clear out a small butcher’s.

Crying would not be fucking useful right now.

What I needed to do was… was…

Figure out how to buy some food while a wanted criminal.

This was probably why villains kept a secret identity. 

The gnaw in my stomach was incessant. It honestly felt like the hunger shared between myself and my power had become its own living entity. Whining and clawing against my focus as my thoughts swirled around the idea of food.

Sitting myself up, I watched my power prowl in front of me for a moment. Even without any proper practice or experimentation it was easy to… not appreciate, nor admire, but acknowledge how dangerous and versatile my power seemed to be, especially after yesterday.

All at the cheap, cheap cost of branding myself as a criminal.

As naturally as if I was turning my very own, my power’s head turned to face me, and my and it’s eyes locked.

I needed a way to buy food.

I hadn’t been obviously noticed when I made my way to the library. A disguise might work, even after the Mall.

A disguise might help me get around, but I didn’t want to rely on it only for it to fail unexpectedly. Plus, I was pretty sure that buying the quantities of meat I would be for my power- I wasn’t sure how I knew my power needed to eat meat, but it felt right and my power definitely looked like a carnivore- would turn a few heads.

People would probably be wary of any long black haired teens wearing glasses as well, especially right after the Mall.

That as well. My options for a disguise were limited and I was willing to bet that the heat was hot. Keeping my head down was a priority.

I could fish in the Bay.

That… actually might work? Brockton Bay wasn’t too bad in terms of fishing from what I knew, even if it wasn’t all that popular. Looking over my power, I had absolutely no idea how good it would be for fishing. Although my tentacle-spears might be good for spearfishing. The biggest problem with that is the risk of being noticed while I was fishing.

Probably better as a supplemental source.

Which still left me with no way to get food at the immediate moment.

Get someone to buy and pick up the food for me?

I almost dismissed the thought out of hand, I was fucking alone . No one gave a god damn shit about me except maybe Dad and I didn’t-

My eyes began to burn, and I fought back the rising urge to break down and cry once more.

I didn’t want Dad mixed up in all this, at least not anymore than he currently was. If I avoided contacting him then he… he should be fine.

Hopefully.

Which left me with no one I could ask for help other than random people on the street-

Oh. Henry. Right.

I blinked, and rolled the thought around in my head. I wasn’t sure he’d choose to help out, even if he had given me some free advice. There was a distinct difference between giving some random kid he just met advice for living on the streets while warning them away from gang activity-

The thought caught as it entered my mind. Henry had told me that there’d been a fight between two gangs at the laundromat. Something I was pretty sure would’ve been recent news at the time.

Now maybe he was just in the right place and the right time to hear about it, or maybe he heard it on the news or something but-

A new parahuman appearing and being chased down by the PRT is much bigger news than another fight between the gangs, isn’t it?

Which meant he… probably knew, or at least suspected I was parahuman when he met me.

When he mentioned the laundromat, did he know I’d investigate it myself?

He didn’t look like the manipulator type, nor did he really look associated with any of the gangs I knew of…

… but if you were manipulating someone you’d hardly want to advertise that.

Food was- okay it was still a big concern, but I wasn’t entirely sure how happy I was with the idea that Henry knew who I was beyond a face. Not when I barely knew anything about him.

I couldn’t think of any reasons why he’d have wanted to manipulate me, or what he could’ve gained from me deciding to ignore his advice and stealing from the leftovers of the laundromat.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it.

I had to figure this out.

Best way to do that would be to interrogate him for some answers.

‘Interrogate’ seemed a bit violent in word choice, but I couldn’t think of how else to put it. I wanted to investigate, I wanted answers.

And a simple talk isn’t going to be enough. I need to know.

Rising to a stand, I stretched and sent a glance towards my power. If he tried to run or fight, I’d win. No question about it. I’d be getting my answers out of any sort of confrontation, even if it didn’t end up coming to blows.

All I have to do is find him first.

Henry wasn’t all that difficult to find as it turned out.

I’d initially gone to where we’d first met, on one of the smaller piers that littered just out of sight of the Boardwalk like discarded trash. Far enough away that the enforcers paid whatever happened there no bother, and as Dock business rather than a disturbance to the Boardwalk. From what I heard, none of the gangs really cared for the space either. I didn’t expect to find Henry there, and I didn’t. It was somewhat eerie seeing the place in cloudy morning light, compared to what it had looked like…

Was it really only the night before last?

The tiny pier looked worse than it had under the moon and clouds, what had merely felt old and damp through the waterlogged clothes and blanket I had been wearing on our first meeting was now too visible to me. Discarded plastic, mostly needles and torn bags were wedged between the planks of groaning wood. Graffiti of the meaningless sort decried the space, snarling faces and curse words fighting like dogs over any available spot where spray could be applied. Two empty bottles sat amongst the trash, their labels I recognised as some of the cheaper shit Dad bought when he didn’t want to talk about work.

The smell at least wasn’t too bad. Salty and carried by the Bay’s cool breeze, tinged by faint unidentifiable trails that I always attributed to the Boat Graveyard.

Achingly familiar, and so much worse than I had previously expected.

A piece of paper was taped to the street light steps away from the wood of the pier.

Flecks of water had landed on the paper at some point earlier, and had only dried away after poking some small tears in the paper.

The words itself was a rambling note, hand written in a scrawl that tilted back and forth between surprisingly neat and barely legible. It reminded me of the examples of Russian cursive I’d seen on the internet. Neat, but hard to make heads or tails of.

The note, at any rate, had addressed a ‘Sonnie’ and told me where its author - probably Henry, or at least someone pretending to be him who knows the contents of our conversation last night - could be found.

Not as hopeless a search as I thought it would be.

I knew the abandoned ferry terminals, even if I didn’t pay them much in my mind. I knew from my Dad what shit condition they were in - and I can recall him mentioning on multiple occasions that Brockton’s homeless were prone to squatting there on occasion.

Officially, the Dockworkers Association frowned upon this - but I hadn’t ever actually heard of the Dockworkers doing anything about those that slept there aside from occasionally politely asking them to leave when it was getting close to election time and Dad really wanted to make another push to get the ferry back up and running.

Now that I thought about it, how many times had he mentioned getting new hires not long after?

Worked their way up from nothing into a state of extreme poverty.

I chased the old thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t time to be distracted. My power was already writhing in my grip, wriggling and eager to leap out in the world as I approached the old northern ferry terminal.

Even looking at the terminal now, for all my Dad’s work, it barely looked much better than that tiny trash-covered pier had been.

Henry sat inside, slumped against a wall and an old blanket covering his legs. I would’ve thought he was asleep if not for the lit cigarette in his mouth and how his head subtly shifted to face me as I walked into the room.

I let my power bleed into the world and lurk behind me as I stared down at him. 

“You knew.”

He leaned his head back, looking me in the eyes from where he sat. The mirth that filled him was still there, as if he knew a joke nobody else understood.

“I suspected. A girl your age, swimming in the Bay at night? You had no home, and didn’t know what to do.” He smiled, real and genuine even behind the mischief, “Plus, your face was all over the news. Not every day a new cape gets seen without a mask. Especially not when the people upstairs are calling you a violent villain.”

“I’m not a criminal.” The words left my throat with far too much haste, but they were flimsy. A desperate plea. 

My eyes caught Henry’s, just for a second. A second too long where I stared into those eyes, and found them old and weary, rather than full of mirth.

He let out an old sigh and gestured to the ground where I stood, “Sit down.”

“I’m not.” I whispered, barely louder than a breath, even as I slowly sat.

We sat across from each other in silence for a moment, staring at each other. Idly, with less than half a mind on the task, I directed the monster that lurked behind me to lay down as well. Placing its massive head in my lap, It was surprisingly comfortable, despite the near-crushing weight on my legs.

Slowly, he took in a breath, “Sonnie-”

“Don’t.” I cut him off before he could begin, “Just call me Beastie. There’s no use pretending.”

“Taylor then.” Henry nodded, in easy acceptance. He already knew, did it really change much for him? The thought ran through my mind, and Henry continued, gesturing to the monster that circled me. “What do you call her?”

I stroked a hand across the monster’s head, and felt it run across my face. It felt like a gentle wind.

“... I hadn’t thought of anything yet.”

Henry nodded again, and I heard him cough slightly before he began, “Let’s call her Sonnie then, for now?”

“For now.” I agreed. It was better than anything I could’ve come up with. Probably would’ve ended up calling it- her?- her Turbo-raptor or something dumb like that.

“Good to meet you then, Sonnie.” He gave the monster a wave from where he, his tone light and free. I couldn’t help the snort of air that left my power’s- Sonnie’s nostrils. Turning back to me, his face… it had regained that mirth as he spoke, “Do you two need a homeless man’s hand then?”

I do .

The words were sitting on my tongue, almost eager to be spoken. Held back only by the nagging thoughts in the back of my head. Holding me back.

Did I trust Henry to help?

That was a simple question, with a simple answer.

No. Not really.

Not yet at any rate.

“I wanted to talk first.” My words felt crips in the air between me and Henry. “Did you intentionally send me to the laundromat? When you figured out I had powers?”

Henry didn’t respond immediately. Not in words or body, no flinch or a shift in gaze, no obvious tell or movement except him taking his cigarette out of his mouth and holding it between dirty fingers. When he finally did deign to speak, his voice was a rasp, but no less amused. “You’re part of a real shit show aren’t you?” With his cigarette holding hand he gestured to our surroundings, the trails of smoke tracing disturbed patterns in the air. 

He paused, his face considering as he continued to stare at the trash-filled state of the ferry terminal.

“I don’t pay much attention to the news,” he continued, “Prefer to get it from the street’s mouth. Word of mouth and all that. Heard that there was a new cape in town, and her face was known. Getting into a foot race with Velocity and everyone saying she supposedly shot-up her school?” He shook his head, “Smelt like a bad hand to me.”

I could feel my eyes widen, and a burning fury rush through me, that’s what those fucking Bitches have been saying about me? Talking about me like a school shooter after-

It was only once I noticed Henry’s wide eyes did I notice I’d spoken that aloud.

“I didn’t attack that fucking shit-hole.” My voice snarled , “I didn’t even start the day with powers . Those fucking bitches tried to kill me and- and they’re just going to get away from it because- because one of them is a fucking Ward. ”

Sonnie was growling in my lap, and her tails had begun to untwine.

I took a slow, deep breath and tried not to glare at Henry. 

He held up his hands in surrender, but a smile still played on his lips. “Bad hand. The warning I gave you was an honest one. Even if you ended up making the most of it. What are you going to do, kid?”

“I want this shit to stop. I want to stop… I want to stop being fucking scared .” My voice broke on that last word, and I felt myself unable to pull my attention away from the floor. “What do I… what do I fucking do? ”

Henry’s words came easily. They lacked any amusement. Just a dullness that pulled attention in the otherwise quiet between us.

”You need every advantage you can get.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take a deep draw on his cigarette, “People don’t stop kicking just because you’re already down. They might move on to bigger things, but they don’t stop kicking.” I saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, “So you don’t stop either. You hit them back twice for every time they hit you. and when they’re down?” He chuckled, “You move onto the next biggest motherfucker and stare them down until everyone else is too scared to start anything with you.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what I was planning to say, just that the words that slipped out surprised myself.

“Got anything that doesn’t sound like prison advice from a bad action movie?”

The bastard started laughing.

Hearty, far-too amused chuckles marched into the air. My glaring continued to be ignored, and I could feel a small smile threaten my lips.

It was a little after my efforts to suppress my smile failed, and between Henry’s dying chuckles and breathy intakes of air, that he started speaking again. 

“You’re right. Not exactly gold star advice. Something else then? You need everything you can take, kid. Because shit’s going to keep happening and it’ll happen no matter what you do. So you grab what you can and do your best just to get by. Maybe, one day you’ll have what you need to make yourself somewhere safe.”

Maybe one day.

I stroked Sonnie’s head as I thought of Henry's words. They weren’t the most inspiring of words, but I really did look like I did need every advantage I could take. Maybe one day I could be vindictive, and fuck over the Trio and everyone else who decided to fuck with me.

But at this moment, right now?

“I need some help.”

I… wasn’t sure what it was about those words. But they seemed to cut through the air. My power bristling under my hand, and that little connection between me and it humming with a readiness.

Henry barely paused, “Food?”

I could feel my own nails attempt to dig into Sonnie’s skin, failing to make even scratches.

“I got money but…”

“You got a friend and a face you’re worried about people recognising.”

My breath caught for a moment, and hesitantly, I nodded. “Could you…?”

“Sure. Does Sonnie need anything?”

I baulked at his words. He was going to help… just like that? Part of me wanted to believe he was earnest and just wanted to help, another part of me…

He’s up to something. Did he ever say he didn’t intentionally send us to the laundromat?

He… said the warning was honest, but do I trust that? Could I trust that?

I crossed my arms as best I could with Sonnie’s head resting between my lap. “ You said not to trust strangers, not even yourself. What’s your angle?”

He grinned, a knowing edge in his smile, “Making friends with the newest local Parahuman. Your bunch tends to be prickly types. Hurt once, twice shy and all. I like to think that if I make friends with you now it’ll turn out better for us both later on.” He lapsed into thought for a moment,before shrugging and grinning, “Or maybe I’ll wind-up in a jail cell for my trouble. Might as well try to tilt the odds in my favour.”

There was… a lot in that. I wasn’t sure if he was being earnest with me or if it was just another layer of deception. Maybe he worked for Coil’s Organisation and this is how they lured innocent little girls off the street to be press-ganged into service. Some sort of deep-cover agent living the life of a homeless man-

What the fuck am I on about? Am I really that paranoid?

Okay, maybe it was a little ridiculous but-

But did it matter? Paranoid or not, true or not, do I have any other options? Even if he does betray us, can he even do anything to stop Sonnie?

I needed food. I needed a way I could spend the money I got to buy things.

At the end of it I didn’t have any other ideas.

The food Henry brought back was carried in a shopping trolley.

The meat was unfamiliar on Sonnie’s tongue. Mostly raw cuts bought from a butcher’s, with fish and some dog and cat food to test and for variety. Its taste and texture is barely a presence in my mouth next to the sensation of a slowly filling stomach.

Sandwiches were for lunch today. More than enough to make up for yesterday.

Out of the corner of my eye I peered at the shopping trolley. Stacked full of food.

Enough for tomorrow, the day after, and maybe even the day after that.

But not forever.

Chapter Text

Blacking out in the middle of class was not something I had wanted to deal with today. I hadn’t even noticed it until I saw the concern on Ems face and her fussing over me.

Something was already scratching at my mind, an errant memory from one of those stupid PRT lecturers they forced us to sit through, just out of reach.

I wasn’t stupid though, blacking out in the middle of class for no reason is something to be concerned about. I didn’t feel sick at least, I could probably use the excuse to go to the nurses office and ditch. Any excuse to avoid listening to Mr. Quinlan’s annoying-ass nasally fucking voice was a good one. Might have to deal with some PRT bullshit cutting my hours if they thought I actually was sick though, but I could patrol on my own if I felt like it.

“Hey teach, I need to go to the nurses office.”

The balding man narrowed his eyes at me for a second before letting out a frustrated breath of air. “Is it urgent, Ms. Hess? Class is about to end already.”

And? What did he care? He was just a pathetic bitch trying to squeeze every ounce of authority he could get. Not that it meant much since none of these other waste of spaces were paying the wimp even the slightest bit of attention.

“Yeah, it is. Can I bring Emma along?” Was the fucker really trying to stare me down? Fucking bitch doesn’t know who he’s looking at.

The bitch could only match me for a moment before folding, nodding as he looked away like the scared useless shit he was.

“C’mon Ems.” I said as I picked up my bag, I swear I was so glad at least one person in this school wasn’t a spineless bitch. If I had to deal with that every day without some sort of relief I might’ve taken up Piggy on that transfer to Arcadia.

Not that Arcadia was probably any better, but at least Carlos had some spine and was nice to look at. Would’ve had to pretend to be a good little bitch more often but it would’ve been worth it.

Luckily, I had Ems. So I didn’t have to resort to that.

And Madison I guess, not that the cutesy sack of shit was worth much. Maybe I should ambush her as Shadow Stalker and see how she reacts? See really how strong she was when her whole cutesy-shtick fell apart.

“What’s going on Soph?” Emma asked as she caught up to me in the Winslow’s halls. I didn’t doubt she knew something was up, we weren’t going the right way to the nurse’s office.

“Trying to figure that out. Thinking.” Emma didn’t say much else, just nodded and followed along. Always nice to have someone on the same wave-length.

Suddenly fainting wasn’t good, especially for no obvious reason. I considered that one of the many dumb pieces of shit I beat up got powers or something and were trying for revenge, but my identity was secure as can be thanks to the PRT.

They might be a bunch of wimps where it counted, but they had a few useful tricks.

That memory was almost there, something about encountering parahumans in chaotic situations.

I continued making my way to my locker, Emma at my side. If it was a threat I wanted to be near my costume and gear, and if it wasn’t I could use the excuse of going to grab something.

That little memory was insistent, like an irritating fucking pest trying to grab my attention. My instincts were practically screaming at me.

Something I was missing, I almost had all the fucking pieces.

“Got anything, predator?” Emma asked, her voice sounded more worried than she probably would’ve wanted to admit, and while the concern was nice it wasn’t like I needed it.

When I shook my head no, she bumped my shoulder. Camaraderie or solidarity or some shit like that. I felt a bit of my frustration leak out. She cared, and that was nice to know, reaffirming even if she didn’t really need it.

“Hey, want to swing by Taylor’s locker while we're out of class? She should still be in it.” It was an obvious ploy to cheer me up, and yeah, beating on the stupid fucking wimp sounded-

“ Shit. ” I hissed.

A Trigger event. Crisis point. Point-zero. Whatever you want to fucking call it.

Other parahumans blacked out during those. If they were close enough. That’s what happened. The shitty little wimp triggered at being stuffed in her own locker.

“Emma. I need you to go to Hebert’s locker and text me what’s happening, I’ll go grab my gear.” What kind of powers would a little fucking wimp like Hebert even be? “And don’t get too close either. Might be...” I paused, dangerous? Emma could take care of herself, she was a fighter, danger shouldn’t scare her but I didn’t want her getting close either, “Might be people nearby and you don’t want anyone to associate you with her being stuffed in her locker, yeah?”

Confusion was present on Emma’s face, but I could see her hand moving towards the pocket she kept her phone in.

“What’s going on Soph?” Her voice had lost that sense of idle curiosity it had when she asked earlier. It was tighter now, she wanted to know .

“Nothing.” I stated, “Nothing we can’t handle anyway. Need you to scout ahead while I grab my stuff though.”

Emma was quiet, staring at me intently as we moved down the halls. Still walking, not attracting attention just yet.

Finally, Emma spoke, “Okay, yeah fine I’ll do it. We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“Of course.” Was that even in question? Emma was one of the few people I actually gave a damn about, “we’re partners. I’ll talk to you later. ‘Kay?” I finished and began to jog down the hall.

I’d give Emma an explanation later, while we got our stories straight. I wasn’t certain right now, but I had a strong suspicion and my instincts were screaming one thing at me. That Hebert had triggered.

I wasn’t going to wait around. I wasn’t fucking stupid, that wimp would lash out with her powers the soonest chance she’d get. She’d use whatever power she got to fuck with us as soon as she worked out how.

I could deal with that shit, maybe , depending on the power. If Hebert lucked out and got something actually good and the idiot got a clue how to use it then she could do some serious damage.

But I could deal. Sic the PRT on her and maybe pay her a personal visit some time to teach her a lesson.

Sure, maybe that’d end up with fucking Hebert joining the Wards, but that wouldn’t be so bad. I could threaten the wimp into staying silent, and if she still decided to blab? Who’d fucking believe her? I was the best Ward they had.

But Emma . Emma was a target, Hebert knew where Emma lived . If I waited for Hebert to make the first move that could lead to the only person in this whole fucking school that actually mattered getting hurt.

So I couldn’t let that happen. Simple as shit.

A text arrived on my phone about the same time I got to my locker.

Emma: S WTF

That meant it was Hebert then.

Emma: theres a dinosaur outside taylors locker.

Emma: it ripped the door off and she fell out.

 I tapped the button to call and brought the phone up to my ear.

I didn’t wait for greetings, my voice was all business even as I started opening up my locker.

“How big is it?”

“Sop- S what’s going on?”

“Ems, how big is it? Is there anyone else around? Give me deets.”

“Hell S,” I could hear her mutter from the other side, after a moment her voice came through louder and clearer. “It’s pretty big. Not really doing much though, just watching Taylor on the floor. She looks pretty out of it. A few people must’ve heard something though ‘cause a couple people are here taking a look.”

It was public, properly public, that was good. Also, it seemed she was a master, not a changer. No clue on whether or not the minion had a brute rating or how many she could make - it definitely had a brute rating if it was big but better to be cautious. 

“Okay Ems, this is serious, stay out of sight. I’ve almost got my costume on already.”

Engage at distance, see how it moves, see how much control Hebert has over it. I should also start calling it in when I see it, to give whoever is on communications a better idea of what we’re dealing with. 

“ What the fuck is going on Soph? ” Was downright snarled through the receiver.

Got to make sure she’s a villain though, or at least that it looks that way. Give her full name and call her a school shooter in earshot of other students while I give my report?

“Hebert triggered , she’s got powers. Stay back because she definitely doesn’t know how to use them yet . Public triggers are dangerous , got it Ems?”

There was silence on the other side.

I had gotten most of my costume on, I slung my crossbow over my shoulder and began to run, “Em, do you hear me?”

I was about to ask again when I finally heard Emma’s voice speak up again, “Yeah, I’m alright. Okay, I can do this, S, what do you need me to do?”

Taking a deep breath of relief, “Start getting people away from our school shooter , if people don’t listen don’t bother. Keep an eye out for an opportunity to grab Mads and clear out Hebert's locker.”

There was a pause, but Emma’s voice was even when she spoke again, “Okay, got it, talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” I said, “talk to you later.” I hung up.

We had work to do, but we could do it.

Chapter Text

The Boat Graveyard was a horrible place to be. The place that had once been Lord’s Port was not much better than a desecrated corpse of what it had once been.

Something that had once been prosperous, completely abandoned in its downfall. Nothing much more than a scrapyard of abandoned and unwanted junk, covered with graffiti and made into the illicit hangout spot of stupid teens everywhere.

As a stupid teen myself, I should fit right in.

There was no saving Lord’s Port. None of the boats that still sat in the Boat Graveyard had had any maintenance in literal years, and more than half of them had sunk during that time as they continued to be weather storms both unprepared and unrepaired. Those boats that hadn’t outright sunk into the sands of the port still remained rusted and probable death traps to any who stepped aboard.

What was once a bustling location, and may still have been if not for the history and protests, was now nothing more than an abandoned jungle.

There was a container ship, somewhere in this place that had been sunk first. Sunk while it was still called Lord’s Port, and doomed the rest of it to become the Boat Graveyard.

Sometimes I wondered if the Port would’ve dried up and been abandoned anyway when Leviathan first appeared.

The Lord’s Port was something that I wanted to feel angry about. Something that, when I thought about it, made me want to blister and burn with rage and indignation. But no matter how I tried I always found I couldn’t muster up anything more than melancholy when I thought about the Boat Graveyard.

You were abandoned too, don’t you see it? Why aren’t you mad?

I shook my head, and out of the corner of my eye saw my power walking by my side. It’s almost shark-like mouth set in a grin.

A locker door being peeled away and turned into nothing more than scrap. Three echoing laughs. A chase with something cloaked and made of darkness, and later a blurring bolt of red.

I felt a flicker of anger in my chest.

Sonnie snarled, and I saw her tails begin to thrash in irritation before an awareness of the motion caused them to suppress the instinct.

I turned away from the monster and made my way deeper into the Boat Graveyard.

It was time to find the extent of my powers.

If I got into any more fights, and that idea seemed more and more likely the more I thought about it, I needed to know how my power worked . Over reaching my limits in a fight could lead to… Well, there were horror stories about accidents between parahumans.

Henry had been wary of my idea of going to the Boat Graveyard and testing my powers. Too many eyes would be on this place, looking for the exact opportunity I went here to test my limits. An acknowledged if informal tradition among the capes of the Bay, allegedly.

But testing my powers in the warehouse limited what I could do, and risked too much attention being drawn there.

It was riskier, in a way, testing my power in the Boat Graveyard, but safer in another.

Henry made me promise to buy a burner phone or two at some point, and gave me his number in case trouble rose and I needed a hand.

But going out in public risks the PRT. I’ll buy the burner phones after this. When I know what I can do.

First, a review of what I already knew.

My power was to summon a monster.

Not just summoning. I controlled it too. Controlled it as if it was my own body.

It wasn’t the strongest power out there. It wasn’t lasers and flight or super-strength or every power at once. Not unless there was something I was missing.

Could I create multiple instances of my power? An army of monsters I controlled?

I concentrated on that connection between myself and my power, and rather than holding it tight and pulling it in, I tried to push and make more of it. To imagine that connection extending out and going even further.

Through Sonnie’s eyes I stared at my own face, eyes closed and crunched in concentration.

Nothing happened.

Maybe a different direction.

I tried imagining a second connection. Picturing the feeling of it extending out and taking shape into another monster.

My power remained unresponsive.

Growling in frustration I pulled the connection tight again, and felt my monster’s perspective getting swallowed up and becoming nothing but a  muffled void. Not gone, but like my eyes and ears were smothered by cotton.

Faintly though, I can still feel Sonnie moving and reacting to what I wanted it to do, even if it felt like I was moving through mud or syrup.

Something to explore further later.

Letting the tension drift from my shoulders and allowing my entire body to relax, I felt that cord that connected me to my power run loose from my grip. 

Sonnie’s appearance at my side was barely noticeable, aside from the return to full clarity from those muffled senses. A towering, lumbering shape stood at my side like an ill-fitting shadow.

Sonnie had appeared right where I expected her to appear.

It was something I had noticed, that now stood in stark clarity in my mind. I’d even used it in the fight against Circus, and to a lesser extent against the PRT.

I hadn’t been able to create multiple monsters for me to control, but I could at least direct where I wanted Sonnie to appear.

How far away can she appear from me though?

The first step was to reel my power in, my shoulders tensed as I took in the sight of Sonnie disappearing. Like stepping behind a curtain of reality. Hunching my body, I concentrated, focusing on that mental image of the cord that connected us both, and imagined swinging and throwing it as far away as I could. Focusing on the idea of the space in front of me, and that I wanted Sonnie to appear far away from me.

I opened my eyes to the sight of a monster stepping back into reality. Appearing between the blinks of the eye.

She was by my side once more.

She couldn’t be more than five feet away from me.

Let’s try that again, maybe I messed something up.

I took a deep breath, and focused on Sonnie disappearing.

She did so.

Easy enough.

Keeping a mental hand on my power, holding it close to my chest less it go free early, I picked a spot in the Boat Graveyard. Someone had made stacks of old tires, and at some point it had been knocked over - whether by its creator or vandals I had no clue - making a tiny hill of rubber.

Eyeballing the distance, it couldn’t have been more than… maybe forty feet? Forty-five?

I focused on the feeling of my power, and imagined Sonnie materialising next to the tiny hill.

Slowly, I exhaled, and let my power release .

Frustration shot through me as I saw Sonnie by my side again, nowhere near the hill.

Five feet-ish. Is that my range then?

But I’d definitely been more than five feet away from Sonnie during the mall, same with the fight with Circus. Hell, I’d paced around the warehouse from a further distance away!

So is it only when summoning her then?

I couldn’t think of much else it could be. I didn’t want to say for certain though so, provisionally: I only had Sonnie, and I could only make her appear close to me. I wasn’t going to be able to make her teleport onto someone I could see and take them out while I sat safe far away.

So how far away can she be then?

I couldn’t remember any sort of strain connection during the mall, no matter how far away the fighting got from me. That I had never felt any sort of strain either meant she had enough range from me that I was nowhere close to breaking it or that I don’t get any sort of warning if Sonnie is approaching the end of her range.

That’s assuming the distance she can wander is based on where I am and not where she was summoned.

That… probably wasn’t the case, I concluded as I gave it more thought. If her range was based on where she first appeared I doubt me riding her around the Bay - and fuck did that now look retroactively terrifying, broadcasting where I was going like that. Then again that may have been what led to Aegis and Kid Win showing up and saving me from Circus.

Luck, luck, luck, luck. I was so fucking lucky. I am so happy I decided to take a bus here instead. No one looks at who’s on buses. The driver didn’t even notice me not paying the fare or the gangers getting high at the back.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned my body against Sonnie’s side and pulled the oversized hoodie I wore tighter around me.

I found myself sitting, eventually, and reluctantly sent Sonnie off to navigate the ruins of the Boat Graveyard to put as much distance between me and her as possible.

Her range has to be based on me, else riding her through the city wouldn’t have worked like it did unless she had enough range for it to not matter.

Taking a few more deep breaths, I sat there and enjoyed the smell of salt on the Bay. It was nostalgic, despite the smell of garbage and junk trying to bury it. The rest of my mind was focused on Sonnie, and while I had a decent idea of her mobility already, navigating the rough terrain of the Boat Graveyard was still a useful experience.

As minutes passed, and still no feeling of strain or a sudden disappearance from Sonnie occured, I began to grow restless.

Sitting around on my lonesome was strangely relaxing, even as my mind kept flipping between restless anxiety as Sonnie grew further and further away and a strange inner peace where I could feel the time pass away like sand through my fingers.

I can see why people like to do this with a good view.

It was nearing half an hour when the anxiety grew too much and I pulled the connection between me and Sonnie close and felt her senses become muffled and clouded as she disappeared.

I stood and- oh fuck my ass hurts- let the connection between me and Sonnie relax. A new view of the junk around me bloomed into awareness as I felt Sonnie step into the world by my side.

I began to walk.

That settles it at least, if Sonnie has a range limit it’s big enough that it doesn’t matter.

A potential theoretical limit, but not a functional one. Very useful to know.

Continuing to walk, I thought back to the tests I had done and what else I could do.

Physical limits are the only thing I can think of. How strong, how fast, how agile. Does she build muscle or is it static?

There was no way for me to tell if she built muscle or not, although I guessed I’d likely find out in time. She could get hungry though, which suggested she operated on some sort of biology. Her not building muscle would be… pretty arbitrary. So that’s tentative “yes” she can build muscle and get strong. I already knew she was pretty agile, and she was surprisingly fast for her size. The run through the Boat Graveyard verified the second, and the chase with Kid Win probably confirmed the first…

How strong was she though?

She could carry me like I was nothing- which, admittedly, isn’t saying much- and tore apart a door pretty easily…

I’d managed to throw a chunk of metal at Kid Win as well…

But none of those were anything beyond what another brute could do.

I needed a way to test Sonnie’s strength then.

Pick up random pieces of junk and toss them?

Might as well. There was a whole assortment of various sized pieces of scrap around me already.

Start small though.

Picking up a decently large chunk of scrap metal that was big enough that while I might’ve been able to lift it with my normal human arms, I definitely had no chance of actually moving it anywhere. The scrap was easy to lift, which wasn’t a surprise, and I had Sonnie lazily toss it.

The piece of scrap flew from Sonnie’s claws not totally unlike a discus or frisbee. It spun through the air and collided with the hull of one of the partially-beached boats of the Graveyard. The result was a shrill clamour of reverberating metal as the scrap bounced off the tiny vessel and fell into the shallows the small tugboat sat in.

I winced at the noise. While I hadn’t exactly been subtle about my testing so far, I hadn’t gone out of my way to-

My thoughts were interrupted by an indignant, and surprisingly squeaky, “Hey!”

My gaze turned to see a face peeking out of the struck tugboat, a girl red faced with rage, more a mass of curly hair and freckles than any identifiable traits.

“What are you-” whatever else the girl was going to shout was abruptly cut off, and I saw her eyes go almost comically wide as she took in the sight of Sonnie standing by my side. The next few moments were filled with a series of nonsensical curses as the girl practically fell back into the tugboat.

There was a brief moment of tense silence in which I probably should’ve run. Should’ve climbed onto Sonnie’s back and booked it out of the Boat Graveyard before police, PRT, or worse could be called.

But I stood there, paralysed until finally, a voice called out.

“So… Who are you?”

She was trying to sound confident, but nerves were betraying her. Her voice was frayed with panic, and it sounded like she was only speaking because she didn’t know what else to do.

I didn’t either.

She doesn’t know who I am though. Maybe I can convince her not to call the police?

Slowly, I stepped behind Sonnie, and called out in a voice that wasn’t much better than the girl’s. “T-” She’s expecting a cape name, “Beastie!”

There was a moment of pause, and confusion was evident when the girl shouted back. “... Like a best friend?”

I was struck dumb for a second, best friend? “What? No! Like a… a monster or something! I didn’t pick the name!” I hesitated for a moment, a brief wave of uncertainty before I continued and tacked on a simple, “Who are you?”

The girl’s head poked out again, and this time I saw a cheap halloween mask of a devil under the nest of curly brown hair. “Spitfire!”

“Like the plane?” I blurted, and I almost smacked myself in the head before shouting, “You’re a cape?”

“Yeah! I mean- No! I mean- I’m a cape, but it’s Spitfire! I spit fire! You’re a cape too?”

My gaze shifted, and I stared back at Sonnie's eyes. Whatever I didn’t end up saying was apparently enough though, as I heard Spitfire shout back.

“Okay yeah, stupid question! What are you doing here?”

I froze for a moment, did I want to actually tell her what I had been doing?

Why shouldn’t I?

Not the entire truth. I swallowed, and shouted back, “Testing my power! What are you doing here?”

“Taking a nap!” Was the immediate response, “Can we stop shouting?”

That… what? Taking a nap in the middle of the Boat Graveyard? I slinked further behind Sonnie, I shouted, “Are we going to fight?”

“No!” She sounded scandalised, and a tremor of fear ran through her voice, “Why would we fight?”

My voice was growing scratchy, “I don’t know! People keep trying to fight me though!”

“Why do people keep trying to fight you? What did you do? Wait, can we stop shouting now!”

“Nothing!” I shouted, I gave my throat a gentle rub before continuing in an honestly much more reasonable volume. “And sure, is it alright if I come over?”

“No it’s fine!” Spitfire shouted back, and I watched as she clambered over the walls of the tiny tugboat.

Spitfire was shorter than me, although that didn’t say too much on its own, but she was shorter than average and the scent of smoke clung to her like tobacco on a smoker’s breath. She wore a jacket that looked like it had lost a fight with a fire, and I noticed what looked like smudges of soot or possibly even burn marks decorating the cargo shorts she wore. 

The devil mask she wore was cheap plastic, and by far the least worn part of her entire outfit.

She stared at me for a second, and her voice was filled with nervous uncertainty as she asked.

“Where’s your mask?”

It felt like my spine had been pulled taut, and I saw through Sonnie’s glaring eyes that I did a poor job of hiding it. My entire body was stiff, and my eyes sliding off Spitfire to stare at anything and everything behind her.

“I don’t have one.” My voice felt small and far away even to myself, and with Sonnie’s ears I heard myself as barely more of a whisper. “My identity is public.” I added, as if that would help.

“Like New Wave?”

I wasn’t anything like New Wave. New Wave had a choice , they had control . They had a reputation and, if I remember right, they’d just captured a villain and sent them to the Birdcage.

“No. I… got my powers in public.” Simplifying it a little, she doesn’t need to know. “My face and name was on PHO last I checked.”

Spitfire seemed to flinch beneath her mask, a hand coming up to her brown curls as she stared at the floor. “Oh. Uh, I probably shouldn’t have asked then. Sorry.”

I kept myself still and… I just couldn’t find the words to speak. I should say something, to fill the silence, to tell her it was a mistake and that I didn’t hold it against her, to do anything more than awkwardly stand there.

I might’ve continued to stare at the dejected teen, if the shifting of Sonnie at my side hadn’t caught her attention.

There was… something, in Spitfire’s eyes as she stared up at my power. It was hard to tell through the mask, but when she finally spoke again the almost child-like fascination in her voice was what shocked me the most. Like a kid taken to a dinosaur museum.

“What’s its name?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Was my immediate response, my voice almost spitting the question before my mouth began to correct the misstep, “She’s called Sonnie.”

I could see Spitfire squint through the devil mask as she stared up into Sonnie’s eyes. It was… something I wasn’t used to seeing, someone looking at me and appreciating- no, admiring what they saw.

Am I really that ugly that a dinosaur monster is better looking than me?

Spitfire’s gaze flicked back to me for a moment, something like confusion in her voice as she spoke. “Huh…I was expecting something more… uh… Flesh-ripper-y.”

“ Flesh-ripper-y? ”

There was a helpless shrug there, “I dunno! I was kinda expecting something badass, not something so… normal.” 

“I’m not great with names.” I admitted.

“Well, ‘least Beastie is kinda cool. You don’t want a dumb name.”

“I think I’ve got bigger problems than a dumb name.”

Spitfire shrugged, “Maybe, but everyone has problems, and it’s the little things that build up, y’know? If people keep picking on you for having a dumb name, that’s going to make your day worse everytime it’s brought up. Other stuff…” she waved her hand vaguely, “Other stuff can be settled, sometimes, but names are important no matter how small they are.”

I blinked at the girl, for a moment I considered saying my goodbyes and leaving. Returning to the warehouse and spending the rest of my day there.

Madison was one of the Trio. She wasn’t as physical as Sophia, nor did she hurt as much as Emma.

She might be a Ward.

But she was always there, an ever-present imp poking and prodding with minor annoyances. Never letting me relax . Keeping me always on edge until I was dreading pencil shavings for fuck’s sake.

Little… annoyances. Nothing on their own, but they built up. So certain and consistent that dreading them was all too easy.

“Yeah,” Was it just me, or was my voice a little hollow to my ears? “I’ll try to come up with a better name.”

I can’t let them hurt me again.

Spitfire’s face split into a grin, seemingly unaware of my melancholy, “Awesome, quick question though,” her eyes practically glittered as she stared, “does she give rides?”

Chapter Text

I sat in the Boat Graveyard, watching the dying light of the sun.

It had been… fun, I suppose, hanging out with Spitfire. Relaxing.

Relaxing, but unfamiliar and strange too. Uncanny. It had been too long since I had just… hung out with someone. The closest I had come to truly hanging out with someone would’ve been the few school assignments I had with Greg, before those always awkward meetings came to an end when the Trio started to find ways to pair me with their flunkies whenever possible. Sabotaging my group assignments from within to gain favour in their social kingdom. 

Spitfire was unlike those awkward meetings, but nor was she like those times that hurt too much to think about. She was… wilder, scrappy in her own way. Tomboy-ish might’ve been the best way to describe her, full of a fearless energy and readiness to jump and tumble through the dirt in whatever games she thought to play.

We spent our time doing… what I could only really describe as “stupid shit”. Meaningless challenges against the world just to prove we could, with no fear of reprisal from any authority. Because no authority governed us in the Boat Graveyard.

Spitfire had attempted a game of catch with Sonnie, but after the first time… I couldn’t even remember what it was, merely that I had failed to carefully catch it with Sonnie and instead had eviscerated it with monstrous claws, and the game evolved in to tossing whatever random junk we could find at the beast and watching her destroy it as it flew threw the air. Whether it be carved in half with claws or stabbed and torn apart with spiked tentacles.

At some point Spitfire had offered to grab some food, and with a dizzy head and a body that felt more exhausted than I thought it probably should’ve, I accepted.

Part of it because, despite the growing queasiness in my stomach that I assumed to be nerves and fear of what was probably the first proper social interaction I’ve had with someone close to my age in… in far too long, I was hungry and through the connection I had with Sonnie I believed she was growing hungrier as well.

And while Spitfire rode Sonnie to the edge of the Boat Graveyard I had taken a look at the contents of the tugboat I had found her in. What I found wasn’t much, but it had confirmed my suspicions that she was a runaway or something similar. 

Spitfire’s “spot” as she called it had held a single backpack, so large and worn that I didn’t think I could count all its pockets without half an hour of uninterrupted study, what remained was a blanket that hadn’t looked like it had been washed in far too long, and a collection of food wrappers and plastic water bottles large enough that it told a story of long habitation. She had taken the backpack with her when she left, leaving behind only a promise to return and a playful demand to guard the place.

I wasn’t sure how much I trusted her to return at all.

But she doesn’t trust me either, or has been burned by trust before and made wary of it.

This time, at least, I did not see my trust betrayed.

I didn’t have to turn my head to watch Spitfire’s arrival, perched as she was on Sonnie’s back, finally getting that ride she asked for and seemingly enjoying every minute of it. From here to the edge of the Boat Graveyard, where Sonnie waited while Spitfire sneaked off to grab some food, and from the edge and back once she returned.

I watched, out of the corner of my eye and through the feeling of her shifting weight on my power’s back as she stared at the ground beside her, and I could easily imagine her considering jumping off the ride early if only for the sheer thrill of jumping off something.

But I saw her gaze turn to the sandwiches in her hands, and while I could not see her eyes I imagined them turning forlorn, especially when she turned back to the ground beside her and-

And she decided to jump anyway. Now I just feel like an idiot.

Spitfire rocked on her heels, arms pinwheel through the air as she tried to regain her balance after landing.

I turned my head and watched as she regained her balance, and even from a distance I could see the unrepentant grin revealed by her half-mask. She turned to face me and gave an exaggerated wave, a sandwich still clenched in her hand, before jogging the final distance between us.

“Hey,” She said as she sat down next to me, “I got these at a food truck that I’ve gone to a few times before.”

A sandwich was all but shoved into my hands, and I couldn’t help but ask “This is for me?”

Spitfire shrugged her shoulders, brushing off the question, “‘Course it is, gotta be a good host or somethin’ right?”

Looking down at the sandwich in my lap, I began to pull apart the wrapping paper and asked, “They any good?” The sandwich had been crushed a bit by Spitfire’s grip, some of its contents having been squeezed out and stuck to the paper.

“No. They’re absolutely disgusting. I love them,” She said, taking a big bite of her own.

“Like Fugly Bob’s?” I asked, pulling the sandwich up to be level with my face and trying to bury the feeling of sickness in my gut. Sonnie crept up to my side, and I felt her presence comforting as she lurked behind my shoulder, even if I felt a bit odd watching myself about to eat.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Spitfire shake her head for a moment before swallowing, “Nah, more like… well, Fugly Bob’s is disgusting in a good way, yeah? Too much of everything, with a lot of grease, and it’s just kinda hard to eat? Or even fit in your mouth? This is more like… bad. It has some really weird ingredients in it and it’s all really cheap. I’ve never gotten sick eating it but there have been times where I felt like I almost wanted to be.”

I raised an eyebrow, and turned my head towards the girl, “Why do you like it, then?”

Spitfire shrugged, not meeting my eyes, but her reply was swift, “I love terrible food. Plus, someday I’ll get to taste it twice!”

It took me a moment longer than I was proud of to get the joke, but when it finally did it must’ve shown on my face because I saw Spitfire burst into laughter mid-bite.

No! Gross! Ick! Fuck!

I was tempted right then, when I saw foody mush fly from Spitfire’s mouth, to try and toss the sandwich into the Bay right then and there. My whole body shuddered, and I forced myself to look away, as I felt the acidic taste of vomit rising through my throat- something which only made it worse as horrible memories flashed across my mind.

Can’t move, it’s in my nose, it’s in my mouth.  

“Ugh, fuck, no. Just no. No. I don’t want to think about that!” My voice was, for lack of a better way to put it, a disgusted whine . Slightly muffled as I held my hand over my mouth and tried to desperately beat down the images and memories my mind thought of. Forcing myself to look away from my companion.

Spitfire’s cackling didn’t stop, even as she started sputtering out her own apologies. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It was just- too good an opportunity! I’ve always wanted to use that joke! They’re fine, I promise!”

“Ugh,” I eloquently voiced, idly wiping away the sensation of phantom vomit from my mouth, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. It was just- too funny. Even Sonnie’s face scrunched up! H-here let me make it up to you.”

“I want to punch you for that,” I grumbled under my breath, taking some slow, deep breaths in a vain attempt to settle my stomach and annoyance before reluctantly turning my head back towards the devil-masked girl.

Except there was no devil-masked girl, curly brown hair and dense freckles - both marred with dirt, and a pair of hazelnut eyes.

There was no mask on her face, just an ear splitting grin. The flimsy red plastic held between her fingers.

The first words out of my mouth were truly praise for my observational ability.

“You took off your mask!”

I wanted to kick myself after realising how stupid that sounded, of course she knew she was taking off her mask to me and sharing her secret identity. I was just… shocked? The suddenness of it had thrown me off.

What was I meant to even do in this situation?

I was aware I was awkward when interacting with people normally, but at the moment I had no idea what I was meant to do.

“Ugh wearing that really starts to hurt after a while,” Spitfire groaned, fingers coming up to massage the side of her head where I could see the thin band of plastic that held her mask in place had pressed down on her head and a small depression had formed in her hair. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were red marks there as well.

I stayed silent, frozen still as I stared at the messy-haired and now maskless girl.

Spitfire looked up at me, and- smiled?

“My name’s Emily, nice to meetcha?” She sounded like she was trying to project a confidence she didn’t have, and a nervous lilt could be heard in her voice.

“You can call me Taylor then,” I said, and I couldn’t help but notice my tone was much the same.

Spitfire- Emily? - opened her mouth, hesitant for a moment, and in the most nervous voice I’d heard her speak, began to talk.

“Just to clear the air, y’know? I’m going to say this now so you don’t think I was hiding it from you or something. I’m pretty sure the PRT are calling me a villain. I haven’t done too much- just, robbed some gas stations while trying to get by, y’know?”

There was silence for a moment as I took in those words.

My voice was far quieter than I wanted it to be, barely more than a mumble, “Yeah. I know. Something… Something similar happened to me. I… it wasn’t more than a few days ago- fuck it was only this monday- but is it alright if I don’t talk about it?”

“O-oh, yeah that’s cool. I promise I won’t dig into your situation just- think you can do the same for me? Return the same and all?”

Spitfire’s words were- hasty, perhaps was the way to describe them. Too quick, like she was speaking before she was sure what she was saying, but they brought some comfort to hear.

“I can do that,” I said, and after a moment's thought, added, “Thanks.”

There was a lull in the conversation then, one that dragged on for seconds as we both stared at each other, and even with my rudimentary abilities on how to… interact with other people I knew we were caught in an awkward moment. Both of us unwilling to say something- or maybe just unsure what to say?

Trying my best to break the worsening silence, I scraped together what I could in a hope to turn the subject back to hopefully less treacherous ground.

“Unmasking yourself to someone, that’s important, isn’t it?” I asked, my gaze flicking away from Spitfire as I turned towards the Bay.

“I… Honestly… I don’t really get why masks are important. I’m just wearing mine ‘cause you’re supposed to, right?” Spitfire- or is it Emily? - admitted as she stared out across the Bay.

“To hide your identity,” I answered, almost hesitant. There was more there, a deeper reason, but… it was one I realised I didn’t know, and it seemed Emily thought similarly.

“See you say that, but hide my identity from what? Sure maybe a villain would want to hide their identity so the cops and heroes don’t know who they are, but don’t most criminals want to do that? The masks and colours just make you stand out more.”

That… I frowned in thought, “I mean, they’re going to stand out anyway because of their power aren’t they? If they’re going to stand out… maybe they want the recognition?”

“I think it’s more to do with intimidation?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Emily’s face scrunch in thought, “I don’t really know, but regular cops aren’t going to try fighting a cape, and there are less Protectorate than regular cops. I… sometimes just walk up to gas stations and ask for all the money in the register. If I’m wearing a mask all I have to do is spit in a cup and they hand it over. Cops don’t respond when they’re called about a cape and I’m normally gone before the PRT vans arrive. I haven’t even seen a hero show up.”

It was a bit uncomfortable how easily she admitted to having robbed places, but I tried to shove it out of my mind. What she said made sense though. Villains were arrested by the PRT or heroes, I couldn’t even remember the last time I heard of a cop taking down a villain - even a minor one. Always heroes and PRT.

A thought scratched my mind, and I couldn’t help myself but vocalise it.

“Why are heroes wearing masks then?”

“Exactly!” Emily exclaimed as she leant forwards and grabbed my arm. “Cops don’t wear masks! Why do heroes? I mean- I can get why vigilantes do it, I asked my Dad about it once and vigilantism is still illegal. It's just that the PRT don’t care that much unless it gets really bad or something, and if you don’t have powers cops can still arrest you for it and stuff. I heard Shadow Stalker got ‘community service’ when she joined the Wards.”

That… was actually quite interesting. Infuriating but interesting. I couldn’t remember how long Shadow Stalker had been a Ward, it couldn’t have been more than a year at most.

Meaning that once they really don’t care who their heroes are or who they hurt. They won’t look too hard so long as they look spick and span to everyone else.

My stomach curled. There was probably worse stuff they were hiding than simple bullying.

But that wasn’t something I wanted to bring up to Spitfire, “New Wave had a member get killed in their home after they unmasked, didn't they? And they wanted other heroes to unmask as well,” It wasn’t much of an argument, more an observation, but as I listened to Spitfire I could admit some curiosity to hearing her take on it.

The bitterness in her voice wasn’t something I expected, nor the seething fury seeping into her tone. “Cops get shot in their home as well, and they don’t have special powers. New Wave was stupid if they thought that won’t happen. They don’t even do anything anymore, you only hear about Glory Girl and Panacea. I’m not even sure if Panacea counts because she’s more a doctor than someone arresting actual villains. They should’ve pushed through, not just given up,” I could just barely hear her mutter in a low grumble, “Just shows how much of a difference they really wanted to make.”

I turned my eyes back to the horizon and the waters of the Bay and eyed the distant structure I could see poking out of the murky waters.

Many times I had stood on the Boardwalk and looked across the Bay to see the Protectorate HQ, imperial and stalwart in its vigil over Brockton Bay.

But from here, in the Boat Graveyard, it looked…

… So, so far away.

How much did the Protectorate and the PRT truly help? The gangs infested the Bay like roaches, and it seemed like all we could do was bear it as things got worse and worse.

If the Protectorate was made up of the same people who made my life hell it was hard to imagine how much- if any - good they did.

They fought the gangs of the Bay, but they did not stop them, and maybe they truly were fighting with everything they had- but that just meant all they could do was slow Brockton’s descent and pretend everything was alright.

And in that case-

-Failures, all of them. Peacocks and paper tigers, strutting about like they own the place.

“This city fucking sucks.”

I heard Emily burst into laughter beside me, and it took me a moment to even realise that I had spoken that thought aloud. 

“You said it!” There was cheer there, but something else. Deeper, sadder.

Who would Emily have to be, to be a parahuman runaway in Brockton Bay?

When I was younger I dreamt of being a hero.

It wasn’t more than a few months ago I dreamt of a hero coming to rescue me and keep away my bullies.

Now…

I didn’t want any more heroes. I just wanted to survive.

“Hey, Emily?” I spoke into the silence between us, my gaze never straying from the not-so distant waters of the Bay.

“Yeah?”

“Friends?”

There was a moment of silence, and for a moment I feared I had misstepped.

But then she spoke, and I heard the smile in her voice, “Sure. Friends.”

I took a bite from the sandwich Emily had given me, and cringed as the taste hit my tongue.

Eggs and chilli covered in far too much cheese and what I thought might be tomato sauce mixed with mayo. There was something else in there as well, and I really didn’t want to know what it was. I was half tempted to give the rest of it to Sonnie.

I swallowed it down and took another bite.

It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I had feared though.

Chapter Text

The routine of waking up in the warehouse was growing more familiar to me, no matter how unpleasant and uncomfortable it continued to be.

The first thing I felt when I woke up was how groggy I was, but two sensations began to press themselves into my awareness as the grogginess gradually receded. The feeling of the makeshift bandage pressing against the cut on my leg, and the weight of my own body curled up against Sonnie.

The gradual rise and fall of our breaths was soothing in the otherwise uncomfortable environment, and I was tempted to stay there and sleep for a while longer. It wasn’t to be, however, as the twin sensations of hunger snuffed out the half-awake dream of a sleepy day in. There was work to be done, and it did not promise to wait.

Sleeping in the very same clothes I’d worn the day before had left them uncomfortably sticky and beyond unpleasant to wear. The lack of a set of good pyjamas shoved itself into my attention, and for a moment I took the opportunity to mourn something I had taken for granted. The lack of better options grated me, but I was still unsure how long the money I had would last and if I could afford to buy more clothes, and sleeping in the nude was… Not an option. I did not care to leave myself so exposed, even in the mild sanctity of the warehouse.

It may not have been an option regardless of my opinion on it, as I felt uncomfortably chilly even fully clothed and under a blanket, with Sonnie’s body being the only real warmth to put me at ease. Like an overly large teddy bear. 

I stripped and got dressed underneath the blanket, extending a tentacle to grab it and gently sort through it for a change of clothes. Peeling away the clothes that stuck to me, and feeling how slick with sweat my skin had become in the night was a disgusting affair, but the results left me dressed in clean clothes and feeling mildly fresher. 

I threw shoes and socks on and put on the familiar overly-large black hoodie as I double checked my bag and its contents, making sure that everything was packed inside and in the correct place. The hoodie smelled a bit, but I hoped I might be able to wash it sometime today, or soon at least.

I had a plan for the day, and I intended to see it through.

Sonnie was getting hungrier, and while it was hard at times to differentiate between her hunger and my own it seemed she didn’t need to eat quite as often as I did. Although the significantly larger quantities to be satisfied made that a trade off I wasn’t quite happy with. Buying large amounts of food irregularly would surely set off alarms somewhere if we kept buying from the same places every time. Someone would notice, and it only takes one person’s attention for things to go wrong.

The source of the drains on my finances did little to change one key fact.

I needed more cash, and sooner rather than later.

Sonnie can survive without eating for another day or two. I can stretch out my money a little bit more.

I focused on forcing Sonnie out of reality, to not allow her to slip through and draw attention to me as I hunched my shoulders and made my way out of the warehouse.

Like finding a shower.

My first stop was breakfast first. Then Henry because he might have some good advice. If that worked out or not I needed to figure out a way to get more money. The possibility of making a living raiding gang locations that showed up in the news was too fantastical to consider. Even in Brockton Bay you didn’t hear about fights erupting between the gangs on a weekly basis. I needed to be proactive.

It’s far too predictable as well. They’ll begin to expect me. Both the gangs and the PRT. Once they figure that out it’ll be like setting mouse traps for me.

Either way, last time I got lucky and it was still far too close for me to be comfortable trying again so soon. I could rob a gas station or something and get some cash that way but… it didn’t sit right with me. I wasn’t that desperate yet, I didn’t want to be that desperate yet.

A better plan was needed. I couldn’t rely on chance, and the riskier options probably weren’t worth the reward.

I need a shower as well.

Maybe afterwards I could find a shower, or maybe a bath, and relax for a little bit? 

A gym might work, or a public pool? Didn’t Henry mention some ideas about that as well?

Maybe Emily could give me some ideas on that front as well.

But first, food.

I gobbled up the last of my breakfast as I approached the ferry terminal.

I’d taken my meal - a fairly bland sandwich which, in contrast to yesterday’s, seemed completely lifeless - to go, and was beginning to regret that idea. I’d chanced taking a bus to get closer and cut the time the trip would’ve taken by more than half, but I still felt tired .

My stomach felt barely filled, my legs ached, and my head felt bleary.

In short, I felt miserable and wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat some more food.

Stumbling my way into the not-quite abandoned terminal on tired legs, I was greeted by an easy voice.

“Morning Mañana , what brought you here?”

The interior of the abandoned terminal looked just as discarded as I remembered it. Trash built up against the walls and corners, and the early evening light that filtered through made the dust that coated everything all the more obvious. Henry sat on the edge of one of the terminal’s chairs, his back leaning against the top rail and his legs splayed forward. If not the slight bend in his back to properly meet the chair, his entire body would’ve been a straight line.

I blinked at the unfamiliar appellation, silently testing the word on my tongue as I sat myself down on one of the open chairs next to Henry that didn’t have too much rubbish on it. I felt Sonnie manifest like a cramp releasing from its hold, her weight settling by my side.

“I needed some… advice. I…” wasn’t quite sure how to put this, “I can’t rely on stealing from gang hideouts for money, and I don’t want to rob people who don’t deserve it.”

  “And who deserves it?”

“The gangs,” I muttered, “villains, bad people.” It seemed like such a pointless question. “People who hurt others just because they can. Because they can get away with it.”

There was a silence between us. When I glanced to my side Henry’s face seemed to be one deep in thought. Was that what he did all day? Wander about and think?

How does Henry get by? Does he have a job somewhere? Does he beg or perform on the streets for the food he eats?

“Your options are limited Mañana , but you already know that, don’t you? Not a whole lot of people want to hire kids, especially not ones with a criminal record.”

Part of me wanted to react there. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wanted to say. I wasn’t the criminal they made me out to be.

But I choked it down.

I wasn’t the criminal they made me out to be, but I had still fought the Wards. Still terrorised a mall full of people to try and get away. I was a criminal and they said I was a worse one. There was no justice to it, but there was no justice in Winslow either. There might’ve been no justice in the Bay anywhere.

“I do think I know some guys though. They organise deliveries mostly, but sometimes they uh…” He trailed off, one of his hands repeatedly snapping his fingers as he searched for the words, “Sometimes they’ve got to make deliveries through parts of town that they’re not wanted in. Not safe for them. Parts of town you’ll be overlooked in.”

Parts of town I’d be overlooked in?

Where would- Where would I be overlooked where someone else wouldn’t be safe?

Oh.

Empire Eighty-Eight territory.

I… fuck I felt revolted in some strange way. That their existence would be something I was benefiting from. Even if it was only because I was better suited to avoiding their attention.

Nothing should have that power.

What kind of delivery business would need… I didn’t want to say kid but I was only a teenager. What kind of delivery business would need a teenager to make its deliveries though? And if I was doing the job because I could avoid trouble I’d have to go on foot or by bus as well. It wasn’t like I could ride Sonnie around and not expect any trouble. Even if she might be useful in getting out of trouble.

Absently I reached to my side, and my hand began to gently brush against Sonnie’s head. There was some comfort in the act of affection.

“Who would I be working for?” Was my first question, and I hesitated only a brief moment before adding a second question, “and how much?”

What will I be delivering?

That one… I think I already had an answer to that. It made me feel ill, what I would be a part of. There’s only so many things it could’ve been, and in Brockton Bay? The answer felt as clear as daylight.

Drugs.  

Henry… his smile hadn’t ever faded, but I watched as he reached into his pockets and drew a cigarette.

Have I ever seen him not smiling?

I couldn’t recall if I ever had, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it if I hadn’t. Did he have a reason to smile? Did he have a reason not to?

“I wouldn’t call them ‘good people’. I wouldn’t call them so bad. They’re not a part of any of the big gangs, if that’s what you’re worried about. Mostly they’re just people trying to make their living. They don’t care where you come from or where you plan to go, so long as it's not to the cops that is.” He spoke the last part with a chuckle in his voice, not that I could find the humour in it. “As for how much… I’ll see if I can swing it one-twenty for a day of work your way.”

I felt sick and dizzy at it all.

Criminal. a part of my mind whispered. Accused. What would Dad say about this? Working with gangs.

I needed food. I needed to survive . I needed space to think and just be and figure out what I was going to do.

“ Mañana , what does that mean? I think I remember you mentioning that before,” I wasn’t quite sure why my mind was latching onto that, but I was thankful for it at the moment. A line of thought away from the gangs, from living on the streets, to worrying about money and food. Something normal.

I saw Henry’s lips quirk up, his smile gaining a touch more humour as he answered, as if he was seeing a joke no one else could, “The future. Or tomorrow.” I almost asked him why, but I found myself being preempted, “You’re not going to live a quiet life. A girl fresh on the streets and exhausted, they hear about a fight between gangs somewhere and I’d be surprised if they step foot near there in a month. You ran there first thing you could and ran out with all the cash you could carry. Parahumans don’t live quiet lives, and I don’t think you would’ve lived a quiet life even if you were normal.” 

In the corner of his eye I could see a little glint of something, I would’ve called it mischievous but such a description felt wrong. Like there was something missing there, or that I was walking in the wrong direction.

“You’re gonna burn brightly, Taylor, and I wouldn’t be Mr. Guilty Conscience if I didn’t do what I can to see you not burning out.”

It made me all so dizzy. I felt lightheaded and flush. Feverish. The whole world was spinning and coming down around my ears and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

It was only when I caught my face in Sonnie’s gaze did my blood freeze in my veins.

I did look feverish. I could see my entire forehead was covered in sweat. 

Dread welled in my gut as slow realisation dawned on me. As my mind scrambled through possibilities and implications.

Henry must’ve noticed something, for I could see he had turned to face me since the first time I had arrived. There wasn’t a smile on his face, and the glint in his eyes- whatever it truly was- was gone. His easy going attitude had been replaced with naked concern.

And I felt so very…

Very…

Sick.

Chapter Text

It was a turn for the worse, ill timed and ill received, and everything could and would only go downhill from here. Once I recognised that I was sick, it seemed whatever had been holding the symptoms back crumbled away to nothing.

There was an imbalance there as well. I felt sick, felt as putrid as I looked through Sonnie’s eyes. I could feel my entire body shivering as I cradled myself in my power’s arms. Held and comforted by gentle razor sharp claws.

But there was something else. I felt fine. Strong. Quick and invincible and the most dangerous creature in any room. An invincible rival. An uncontested victor. Something that saw the world through sharp eyes rather than corrective frames of glass.

As real as the sickness, uncontested and unbelievable. A part of me felt invulnerable, another felt as weak as a newborn.

The imbalance… did not help. It did not help so much as I desperately wanted it to. I could bury myself in the feelings of power. Of health . Push away all the sensations of sickness. The wounds Sonnie had gained not days ago had already disappeared. Scratches and bruises earned against Triumph and Circus swallowed up by unblemished flesh, with the harshest of bruises leaving behind only slightly tender skin. 

Where the bolt that had started me fleeing, forced me away from everything, was nothing.

All of it gone, with nothing but strength to remain.

But then something would remind me, and the warm blanket would be swept away and everything would come crashing back down.

Holding myself in Sonnie’s claws I looked so… small. Weak. Pathetic .

I had seen what I looked like through Sonnie’s eyes before. I should be used to it by now.

But looking at myself right now brought back memories of crawling out of the locker, and seeing a pathetic, garbage covered girl desperately searching for her glasses. It made me… not realise, but appreciate just how… how big Sonnie was.

When I first saw her, crouched on all fours and staring me down, I had thought she was more than twice my size.

Had that really been only earlier this week?

That was true.

But it wasn’t until now I fully took in how much more that was.

Sonnie wasn’t twice my size, she wasn’t even thrice my size, she was more . So much more . I could fit my entire head into Sonnie’s mouth, with more than enough room for powerful jaws to easily bite down and rip me apart like a chunk of meat on a stick.

A small, measly, piece of meat and bone.

But it was needed. I had no choice. I could not make it back to the warehouse on Sonnie. Not without being seen. Without the PRT and Protectorate tracking me down. Any hospital that I could go to would hand me over to the PRT before they even took whatever money I gave them.

I could hear Henry muttering and swearing under his breath. I hadn’t even realised he had a phone. I had no clue who he was trying to call, no clue how it would help in any way. My only chance was to…

Was to rely on this help.

Trust a strange, homeless man, who knew drug dealers and the activities of gangs and how to survive on the street probably better than I knew my house’s kitchen.

Not that I had a house to go back to.

I could call Dad. But that wouldn’t help. I didn’t want my mistakes falling down on his head. I didn’t want to be a burden.

I could go to Emily, but even if she was a friend- or someone who wanted to be friends- I didn’t think I could trust her. Not so soon, not while I was so weak . Maybe later, when I was more sure of everything.

Bringing my body up to Sonnie’s chest, I held myself tight and did my best not to break down further.

The sound of Henry erupting into a tirade of curses drew Sonnie’s attention, and through her eyes I saw him let out a long sigh. I expected him to look angry, although I wasn’t sure what Henry being angry would even look like. Instead he just looked exasperated and frustrated.

He slumped down next to me, and I opened my eyes to see him fishing a cigarette and lighter out of his jacket.

“It’s not looking too good. Called up the only doctor I know and he’s more used to fishing out bullets with his hands than recommending any medicine,” he paused for a moment, the soft click click click of his lighter refusing to light filling the room.

“Decent company. Maybe I’ll introduce you to her after this, eh? Need to remind him not to give you any alcohol though. Lived over in Australia until Leviathan so I heard. Thirteen years and still hasn’t gotten used to the drinking laws,” he laughed.

He was trying to make me laugh, to be optimistic. I didn’t feel it.

He definitely saw so, at least, for I heard him sigh again. “I can only think of two options for you, Mañana . Go to the hospital and get yourself checked in for however long it takes for you to get better. That’d probably mean turning yourself into the PRT if you do so.”

It was so… unfair . I couldn’t help but think. I tried my best and… I got sick, so that’s it for me.

No way to heal myself with my power. I’ve got a monster to protect me, but it’s not much use outside that is it?

“Or,” Henry continued, “You do your best to find one of the gangs and hope they take you. What are your thoughts on that?”

Joining a gang? The ABB definitely wouldn’t take me, I had no clue what Coil’s Organisation would do, there was no way I was joining the Empire. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There were some other, smaller gangs in Brockton as well, but I had no clue what they were like.

Would I really still be free if I joined a gang?

I’d be free-er than if I handed myself over to the PRT, but I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t do everything they could to keep me on a short leash, so that I couldn’t just leave as soon as I got any better. With the state I was in, setting up that leash may not even be that hard. They wouldn’t allow me to be free. If I didn’t have a strong place to negotiate another prison was all that awaited me in that direction.

Sonnie caught Henry’s gaze, and I had her shake her head no.

“Well, I’ll sit with you then. Help you bounce ideas and plan,” his voice got quieter, and I heard him speak with a familiar seriousness. The same he had used to warn me the night I met him. “If you come to no decision, I’ll do my best to get you somewhere safe. Your… Your address can be found online. I’ll start there, if you don’t mind.”

A pit opened in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if what Henry was offering was kindness or cruelty.

I didn’t want it to have to come to that. 

I grit my teeth and tried to come up with a plan. 

I didn’t want help from the gangs. If I went to a hospital it could be days before I left, and kind of legitimate one would rat me out as soon as they realised who I was. Maybe I could bribe an individual doctor to take care of me, or at the very least hide me, but I knew none and had no clue how I’d even find out which would choose to help and which would call the cops. 

I don’t even know if I have enough money to bribe them.

No leverage with the gangs, no leverage with hospitals and I knew no way to apply any theoretical leverage I did manage to find.

If I gave myself up to a hero, they might decide to take me to a hospital before handing me over to the PRT.

I didn’t even know what hero I’d approach for that- or if I would get a chance to approach them. The Wards or Protectorate would probably take me straight to the PRT. I didn’t even know if I’d get the chance to hand myself over to New Wave, Spitfire had reminded me how little you saw them do anything. You only really saw Glory Girl and-

Oh. That could work.

My gut twisted, Panacea would probably heal me before handing me over to the PRT, if only because I couldn’t think of a reason or excuse not to.

But I still had no leverage- I probably wouldn’t need much but-

But Panacea could heal me long before the PRT arrived. Long enough I might have enough time to escape.

Then I just needed to find Panacea- which wasn’t hard. The New Wave website said what hospital she was currently volunteering at.

Then she could heal me and I could get away!

Unless she refused to heal me until the PRT arrived.

The problem was a glaring one. Still no leverage. Nothing to make her heal me.

A solution popped into my mind. I could feel bile in my throat.

That would work.

I opened my mouth, already hating myself, to ask Henry for advice.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting when I stepped through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, but taking in the long queue of people sitting in the large reception was a punch to the gut I wasn’t expecting.

I shouldn’t do this.

Sonnie- so far away now but senses still so clear- lashed her tendrils. An attempt to burn away the anxiety, the frustration, the fear . Futile though.

I don’t have a choice.

A mantra to repeat. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t let them win. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

There was no recognition in the receptionist’s face when I approached her desk. She didn’t know who I was. My shuffling approach gave me far too long to take in her features. Blonde hair tied into a bun, green eyes, full cheeks, golden earrings dangled from the sides of her head. They were nice, not the kind of thing casually unless they were rich. It made me wonder if she had a date lined up after work, or if she was trying to impress someone, or so many other possibilities.

“Excuse me…” My voice was weak, and I found the next words far too hard to say, “I- Is Panacea in…?”

A soft expression overtook the receptionist’s face. “I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to say whether or not any Parahumans are currently in at the moment, and if they are we’re not allowed to let fans talk to them. Would you like to-”

She froze mid sentence, and I knew there must’ve been something in my expression. Some tell that let her know something bad was about to happen.

I’m so sorry.

I took hold of the feeling in my gut, the imaginary cord that connected me and Sonnie, and pulled .

Sonnie’s perspective disappeared, becoming nothing but muffled darkness.

I let my concentration lapse.

I couldn’t see Sonnie appearing, not with my eyes, but I could see the rising shadow looming over the receptionist and I. I could see the dawning horror on her face, and hear the clattering and scraping sounds of chairs falling over, accompanied by the panicked shouts as the others that had been waiting in the reception area took notice of what was happening.

Sonnie slowly drew a spiked tentacle and pointed it at the receptionist’s face.

My voice felt so weak that I feared I would falter before I finished speaking.

“I need to know if Panacea is in.”

When the receptionist gave me a dumb, terrified nod I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, only to settle in my gut.

There’s no going back. I don’t have a choice.

“Where?” No time for directions. "Lead me to her."

It was far too easy to have the spike follow the receptionist's head as she stood. The force that could puncture concrete and tear metal, ready to strike in a way that even in the middle of a hospital would be too late to save her.

She might survive if Panacea was beside her.

I didn't want to find out.

Sonnie's heavy steps trailed after the receptionist, deeper into the hospital.

I almost followed behind them until something tugged on my brain. Something Henry had mentioned to do, to help prevent it going wrong. Or slow something going wrong down at least.

Half turning, I eyed the waiting patients-to-be. The bravest of them long recovered from shock, while the most fearful still cowered and stared.

"Don't call for help." Please. I wanted to add. My voice felt weaker, and I could feel my body almost giving out beneath me.

One of Sonnie's tentacles slithered to my side, and I grasped myself firmly and did my best to hold myself up. No falling.

Sonnie supported me as we walked through the halls, occasionally pausing as Sonnie squeezed through a doorway.  Wide-eyed faces peered out of windows and open doors, watching our progress, many fleeing back inside once they laid eyes on the monster making its way through the halls. Maybe it was terror, desperation, sickness, or that all encompassing heavy hospital stench, but each step felt like it was becoming harder to make.

I couldn't truly tell you how long it took us to get there, or where 'there' truly was. Somewhere on the second story, or maybe the third, with a large window letting in no light from the overcast Brockton sky.

Panacea looked a lot less impressive in person.

You expected the World’s Greatest Healer, who New Wave trumpeted to the world as doing everything she could in the name of heroism. Whose photo you saw right next to the shining stars of the Bay such as Armsmaster, Dauntless, and Glory Girl.

Expectations of angelic grace, of kindness and compassion, of something far greater than you could ever be.

You didn’t expect a tired dish rag.

Panacea slumped was the first thing I noticed. She shuffled about and seemed to project an aura of tired agitation, but more importantly she slumped . Tiredness and exhaustion was visible in her every movement, and any attempt at projecting any image otherwise seemed to have been gradually crumbled and worn away. Her clothes were clean, but they weren’t pristine . Rumpled and unkempt. Like a nice shirt that had been kept clean, but whose owner ironed it less than it deserved. Frizzy hair was stuffed behind a large white hood that drooped over the healer’s head, and the red scarf that covered her face was uneven- like it had been put on in a rush or had gradually slipped over the course of a long day.

She didn’t notice our entrance, not until Sonnie squeezed her way through the door.

I couldn’t parse the expression on Panacea’s face when she saw the situation. A giant monster holding a spiked tendril pointed at the head of the hospital receptionist, and another tendril holding me aloft.

My mind was scrambling for things to say, some way to make my intentions clear.

Then I saw Panacea reaching for something in a pocket of her costume, and Sonnie’s eyes picked out the shape of a phone tucked away there.

Instinct took over, or maybe desperation. A tendril lashed out, and I think both my and Panacea’s heart’s froze as we saw the spike of bone in front of the healer’s face, readied and waiting to punch forward.

“Please don’t,” I forced out, slowly lowering myself out of Sonnie’s grip.

Panacea definitely recognised me if the cold hate of her glare was any indication.

“I…” my voice faltered for a bit. Panacea’s harsh glare made it no easier to talk, and a familiar feeling was starting to grip me.

Of panic, of dread, of everything falling apart and everything getting worse and worse with no escape to it. Spiralling and spiralling ever downwards.

The urge to give up gripped me. To surrender here and now and beg for whatever mercy I could. New Wave wasn’t the Protectorate. They didn’t let psychopaths into the Wards and let them do whatever they wanted.

Do they even care though? Or have they given up?

Emily thought they had. When did New Wave last do anything? When were they anything but particularly photogenic celebrities? Glory Girl was called one of the rising stars of the Bay, but when was the last time you heard Lady Photon or Brandish in the news?

What’s the chance they hand me over to the PRT, with no care what happens when I’m no longer their problem?

I turned my attention back towards Panacea, and part of me marvelled at how her cold glare continued in spite of the threat that hung in front of her face.

“I need healing,” my voice continued to tremble, “Heal me and no one has to get hurt,” please. Please just take it.

Panacea was silent, her gaze flicking between the receptionist and myself. 

“You should give up,” she spoke slowly, an unyielding quality to her words, as if each one was carefully chosen - and each absolutely brimming with disgust, “Somebody in the hospital has probably already noticed something is happening and has called the police. Heroes will be showing up with them as soon as they learn the girl who attacked her school with her power was involved.”

I didn’t do that, snarled through my head. I wanted to argue it, I didn't have the time but a part of me screamed to blow up and exclaim all they did. No matter how pointless it was. Who'd believe the girl that attacked her school when she said it was all her bullies' fault, and that she was innocent?

Who'd believe her after she had publicly fought heroes?

After she took hostages in a hospital.

Maybe I could've argued it when I first opened that PHO page. Maybe if Velocity had caught me I could've argued my case.

Maybe they would have buried me away and all other evidence of their Wards’ crimes.

I buried the distraction from my mind. It wasn't the time, I had no choice.

Panacea's words bode worse though. She was right . Someone in the lobby would’ve seen me and called the PRT at this point. My time was limited and she was stalling. Panacea was important too, they’d show up in force and I’d need every second possible to escape.

I needed a solution. Needed to convince Panacea to heal me now , while I still had the faintest chance of escape.

The hostage, part of my mind whispered, a thought I already knew was leading down a dark path, hurt the hostage. Badly enough Panacea needs to heal them before the heroes get here. Then block Panacea from healing the hostage until she heals me.

I felt sick- more sick than I already was. Revolted at myself from even coming up with the idea and disgusted that I was considering doing it anyway.

Panacea was right there. She’ll be fine, and if it doesn’t work I’d be a murderer.

Again, the idea of giving up pressed into my mind. Let them win, let them lock me up, let them parade around all puffed up and self-important while everything dies around them.

But

I don’t want to let them win.

It’s their fault . I didn’t have a fucking choice . I’m going to make sure they know it too, I’ll make sure everything I do ruins them if it’s the last thing I do. Make sure people know how incompetent and corrupt the PRT are.

Sonnie lashed out, and I felt warm blood on her tendril- sticky and slimy- as it pulled out of the receptionist’s stomach.

Panacea’s eyes were wide, and she seemed briefly stunned as the receptionist fell to the floor. I tried to ignore her screaming.

“Heal her,” I snarled.

Panacea’s eyes focused on the spiked tentacle still levelled at her face. Slowly she began to approach the receptionist.

When she was only a few steps away, barely out of reach if she crouched down and stretched her arm, a blood stained tentacle wrapped itself around her arm and pulled her closer to me. “But heal me first.”

I did my best not to flinch as she glared, as disgust and frustration warred inside of me, and placed my hand into hers.

Panacea frowned and began speaking, “Lots of bacteria in your blood. Laceration across your leg. Lots of recently healed minor bruises and cuts across your body. You’re malnourished so I recommend eating more frequently.” She paused for a second, as if hesitant, “Something in your brain is weird. Your Corona Gemma is very active. Not my area, don’t know if that means anything nor can I do anything about it, so don’t complain. This will take a minute.” 

There wasn’t anything different at first. I wasn’t even sure if Panacea had started until, gradually, I felt the dizziness that was in my head fade away. The fever I was constantly having to distract myself from lessening until it simply disappeared. The fatigue was still there, but it was mere tiredness rather than the constant exhaustion.

I could stand now, and walk around without Sonnie’s support or the fear of collapsing anymore. 

“There. Done.” Panacea’s voice was full of barely constrained rage, a whisper of absolute hatred, “I never want to see you again.”

It was when I went to remove my hand from hers that I felt her grip tighten and my eyes become heavy.

My entire body swayed, and moments before I fell to the floor I saw the disgust on Panacea’s face.

Chapter Text

I felt my body slumped against Sonnie. Whatever Panacea had done had left me unable to move. All my senses had become nothing as well, had she made me blind and deaf somehow? Whatever she had done had left my power unaffected at least. Sonnie’s crisp vision was all I needed to see the look of satisfaction on Panacea’s face. 

That look of satisfaction didn’t last past one of Sonnie’s tentacles clubbing her in the stomach. I avoided the spike at the end of the tentacle touching her, I still didn’t want to risk injuring one of the most famous capes in the Bay, but the unexpected hit was more than enough to send Panacea sprawling.

I ignored the sounds of Panacea throwing up as I pulled my limp body onto my power’s back. A tentacle wrapped tightly around my waist, I was not risking falling off when I couldn’t feel it and may not notice, and ran out of the hospital room as fast as my bulk allowed. The halls were still empty, which I was more than happy about as I trampled my way through.

The lobby was empty when I arrived - everyone must have ran while I was gone - but that was just fine with me. I felt the cheap plastic chairs snap and collapse as they were crushed beneath my weight as I barrelled towards the large glass screen doors of the hospital. I had to get out of here as quickly as I could.

It was the sight of a gold and white blur crashing down in front of those very doors and the accompanying sound of concrete cracking and crumbling beneath the impact that gave me pause.

Glory Girl. The Alexandria of Brockton Bay.

The ground had crumpled beneath the force of her impact, kicking up a small cloud of dust that gradually gave way and let me fully take in the sight of her.

A gold crown shining with imperial authority, platinum blonde hair burning bright in the midday sun. A brilliant warrior of justice, clad in white and gold, impervious and righteous.

It was her eyes that drew my attention the most, and how they burned with perfect, incandescent, rage .

Every single part of me screamed to react. A heartbeat later I felt the impact of Glory Girl’s shoulder charging into me and her inhuman strength attempting to bowl me over. My tentacles moved on instinct, three of them shooting out to stab into the ground and anchor me in place as best they could, the last tightening its grip around my human body.

Claws and spikes dug ripped furrows into the ground as Glory Girl’s ballistic charge clashed against all weight and leverage I brought to bear. It was enough, barely, to stop myself from being completely knocked over at the very least. It left me dazed, confused, and surprised, but I remained on my feet.

But it left an angry Glory Girl staring right into my eyes.

I was already backpedalling, a clawed hand raised and trying to push Glory Girl back. I needed room , there was no chance of escaping when Glory Girl could still grab me. I almost let out a sigh of relief when Glory Girl began to slowly float away from me.

It still left her blocking the exit.

I needed to get past her. I needed to get past her now . There was no other option. I might be able to outrun her if I got onto the streets. I had better chances of outrunning her than I did of fighting her.

I saw Glory Girl about to approach again, her body twisting and flying into the air in preparation of what looked to be a vicious kick. My hand shot out and I barely managed to swing the wreckage of a chair around in time to slam into her side. 

It wasn’t enough to hurt her, Glory Girl was invincible afterall, but it was enough to send her off course, spiralling off to the side.

Enough to give me a chance to escape. I ran.

It wasn’t enough.

Unlike a human, Sonnie’s eyes weren’t forward facing, which meant I got a great look of the gold and white blur of Glory Girl appearing at my side, moments before her haymaker hit me upside the head.

I didn’t have time to react, no chance to defend.  I flew.

The wall of the reception lobby must’ve been sturdier than I gave it credit for, for I found myself slumped against it, all my limbs in a loose tangle, instead of flying through it. My entire body felt washed with pain, and as I slowly groaned and shifted I was relieved to find the absence of the screaming of broken bones.

I took in a deep breath as I tried to climb to my feet, all four of my tentacles untangling themselves to help me stand.

My eyes widened in sudden panic as I noticed what was wrong. My body- my true, human body lay discarded on the floor. Some distance away but hopefully still in reach of my tentacles.

I didn’t get a chance to reach for my missing half, not before Glory Girl was once more in front of me, an uppercut flying towards my stomach. Instinct and half-formed thoughts more than anything was what had me raising a hand to block the blow. The shockwave of pain through my body regardless of my attempts was a brutal reminder that I had no idea how to fight . More limbs were raised in defence, my other arm and three tentacles creating a pathetic wall between myself and Glory Girl’s follow-up storm of blows.

My fourth and last tentacles slithered just above the ground, beneath our feet and hopefully beneath Glory Girl’s notice, slowly making its way towards my human body. I needed my human body, my real body back.

When I felt the blows stop I hoped, for a brief infantasmal moment that Glory Girl had stopped, that I would get the chance to flee- to escape .

The roaring pain that shot through my body a moment later as something slammed into my fourth tentacle and began to flatten it against the floor crushed those hopes.

My attention turned from eying my human body to Glory Girl, the ruins of a chair in her hand and pressed against my tendril. I couldn’t see her expression, not at the angle I was currently at, but I could see her staring at my human body.

Not looking at me.

Throwing my entire body into a pivot as best as I was able, my throat felt like it was tearing itself apart as I screamed and slammed a closed fist into the back of Glory Girl’s head.

Something shattered under the blow as Glory Girl tipped over. She caught herself, if you could call it that, her body beginning to float and spin in mid-air rather than fall to the ground.

I shoved Glory Girl out of the way as I reached towards my human body and raised it into the air. I barely bothered to ensure I held it in a secure grasp, pressed against my back and two tentacles wound tightly around it, before I began to sprint to the doors to the outside.

I was halfway out the door when I felt it, like an animal instinct of death’s approach. My entire body braced itself as best as it was able, not a half-second before another flying tackle slammed into me with a force beyond that of a raging bull.

Claws dug into the earth, ripping through the ground as both I and Glory Girl tumbled into the open street. The tentacles coiled around my human body tightened reflexively, and I felt a wave of relief pass over me as I felt my human body remain secure.

I took a moment to breathe, even as I continued to back away from the invincible fury. There wasn’t a mark on her, meanwhile I could already feel myself start to bruise from her strikes. No way to hurt her, but I was outside now. Escape was still an option. Gritting my teeth, I sent my remaining tentacles at Glory Girl to bat at her and try to ward her away. Just running wouldn’t cut it. I needed more time to think.

It was a mistake. Glory Girl grabbed one of my tentacles in her hands, and in a display of aerial acrobatics I couldn’t help but be impressed by, yanked me forward with her enhanced strength while sending a kick aimed straight for my head as I stumbled forward.

My jaw lacked the armoured plating that dotted my hide, and the enhanced blow made me wince in pain. If this body was capable of it, I think I would’ve started crying right then.

I felt Glory Girl flip over my body, her feet landing on my shoulders. The moment of confusion as I tried to get a look at what she was doing betrayed me, as I felt two hands backed with impossible strength reach down and start prying away at my grip on my human body.

I was sent into a blind panic. Tentacles tried to sweep her off, I bucked my body like an enraged bull, clawed hands reached blindly above my shoulders, but Glory Girl remained in place.

It wasn’t enough. Eventually, I felt my human body slip away from my grip and the weight of Glory Girl disappear from my back.

My head snapped around to see Glory Girl rising in the air, my body held in her arms. She continued to rise, well out of reach of even my tentacles. No no no no no no !-

She glanced my way, too far away for me to read her expression.

I couldn’t reach her from here. I didn’t want to throw something at her, not while she was holding my body. I needed to get closer.

I ran for the nearest building, leaping into the air and slamming into the outside of the hospital’s walls. Claws and spiked tentacles dug into concrete as I threw myself up the side of the building. Craning my neck around, I stared at where Glory Girl floated in place, still far enough away for her expression to be unreadable. Still out of reach. She’ll try to dodge, I needed to be fast . I needed power .

Arms and legs bent, my tentacles gathered in one place, bending and twisting like a spring, and I leapt .

Even I was surprised at the distance I was making and the speed I was making it with. My tentacles flung out like a net as I passed by. My heart leapt in my chest when I felt it connect with something. The rest of my tentacles moved, wrapping around and tightening my grip on Glory Girl and my body.

Clawed arms and limbs slammed into the building opposite the hospital, and I began to climb once more.

My tentacles held Glory Girl and my body in front of me, and I began the process of freeing myself. Glory Girl resisted, but she was working against too many limbs, too many points being attacked for her to defend against. I pried my body out of her grip and, with as much force as I could muster, threw Glory Girl.

It was with some grim satisfaction I watched her tumble and summersault through the air before crashing through a hospital window.

I crested the roof of the building and ran like hell. Hoping that this time nothing followed me.

I woke up in the warehouse with a splitting headache.

Sonnie was draped over me protectively, and blurry, sleepy memories of running back to the warehouse and worrying over when I would wake up started filling the gaps through the headache. Memories of pacing around an unconscious body, doing the best I could to make myself comfortable with oversized claws instead of hands and no senses from my own body.

The whole thing was a bit surreal. Playing nursemaid to yourself while you’re a monster seemed the kind of thing more relegated to dreams than reality.

Dreams or parahumans, apparently.

But reality was stranger than fiction, as I sat swaddled under a blanket, going over the events of…

I looked up, peering up at the clerestory windows, and the rising morning that looked back.

… Yesterday, then.

A sour taste settled in my mouth and my whole body shuddered.

It was necessary. I would’ve died if I hadn’t. Panacea was right there, no one was really in danger.

I had no choice, no other options.

Sonnie’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me close, and I took the opportunity to bury myself in the dual sensations of touch. The reassuring pressure of someone pressed against me, even if it was only myself. I wasn’t sick anymore but… that plan had come with risks. No- not risks, costs . Villains had gone after Panacea before. I vaguely remembered something about some sort of villain in Boston trying to kidnap her last year, and that all of New Wave had sallied out to rescue her.

I think that was one of the few times I’ve seen all of New Wave out there.

All of New Wave would be against me, wouldn’t they? They’d seek out revenge. They couldn’t be bothered to help people unless they’d angered one of their own. No different from the Protectorate and PRT. Barely any different from the gangs.

Arrogant, imperious kings. Lording over their domain and caring nothing about those they step on.

The plan had been risky, but it had worked . 

I let out a deep sigh. It worked . Hated was better than dead. I could survive this until…

Until what? Until they give up looking for me? Until I’m unlucky and don’t get away in time? How long can I stay lucky?

Not forever. I needed a plan. How could I become safe?

Other people. Friends. Compatriots. Teammates. A part of my brain supplied. I hadn’t had any in school, and that had led to the Trio doing anything they wanted and no one sticking up for me. I couldn’t imagine another teenager being much to dissuade them when they were backed and protected by the PRT but it would’ve been something .

Henry had helped me with the hospital. I… wasn’t completely sure I trusted him. He didn’t blink at the plan. He didn’t try to talk me down. He didn’t seem to care about who might get hurt, he just told me how I could do it better.

It was a bit too easy to imagine slipping down a dark path, and Henry walking along with an easy smile.

He was useful though. He knew people and he had advice, he just wouldn’t tell me if I was going too far.

Spitfire, Emily though. I didn’t know her that well but she seemed angry. Angry at New Wave, at the Protectorate, at the gangs. I didn’t know where exactly that anger stemmed from, but maybe she could help. She had reasons to be angry, I just didn’t know what they were yet. A possible counterweight to Henry, keeping me sane and stopping me from becoming something I’d hate.

An image slowly came together in my mind. An angel wearing a devil mask on one shoulder, a devil wearing an angel’s smile on the other.

Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, I really didn’t know Emily that well after all.

But maybe I could tell her what happened and she’d believe me.

I let out a deep, jagged breath, and started to pick out a set of clothes from my limited wardrobe I hoped I wouldn’t be recognised in.