Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Cursed Knight:

Ash.

It fell like snowflakes over his hand...his empty hand.

Where was his sword?

His eyes opened, focusing on his gauntleted fingers as awareness returned.

The growl was in his throat, pain tearing through his body as he forced himself to move. His remaining sword in his other hand felt comforting and familiar as he tightened his grip on the hilt, using it to once more reach his feet.

Dark blood dripped from the cracks and slits of his armor to hiss like burning acid on the ash- covered ground.

His breathing was harsh, wet, and ragged. Booming out of his helmet as he stared down at these three insects...these...heroes...

He felt his rage boil inside him.

Flames danced along his blade, then swallowed it whole. The massive weapon was wreathed in dark flame, the waves of heat rippled his cloak beneath him, his armor sizzled and burned over his flesh. The ash filled furnace they stood in swirled with waves of heat and artificial gusts of moving air as his power flowed, tossing grit and soot into the air.

They would not win!

He wouldn't lose! He would never lose again!

He roared out his hate as he charged at the nearest one.

“Benhart move!” One of them shouts.

He strikes with fire! Dark flame burns a path across the expanse, the fur cloak, sodden with ash, lights up like dry tinder and the old mortal curses as he struggles to remove it before the flames swallow him whole.

He attacks, and the mortal stops in his fumbling attempts in order to raise his sword, the cloak still half clinging from a single pin, to his back, scalding him, cooking him beneath the armor.

The blow connects, and the feeble blade in the mortal's grip shudders in his grasp as he's knocked off his feet, shouting in pain.

“Benhart!” It is another voice this time, a woman.

He turns with a flare of his cloak, lashing out with a foot. The harsh clang of steel meeting steel rings through the chamber as it smashes into her laughably thin shield. The metal buckles under the blow sending her sailing like the old fool she wanted to save.

He feels pain then. A lancing agony through his side, his knees shake, threatening to buckle beneath him. More blood pours from a fresh wound.

Again he's struck, this time on the side of his chest, his eyes catch the glimpse of lightning, sunlight crackles and dances along his armor, burns through to pierce sinew. He turns his gaze.

And finds him.

The one who came here for them. For her. For Naadalia. For the crown that rests in her grasp.

The one that has destroyed her idols and razed her tower.

The one that wants to take her away from him.

The one that wants to defeat him.

He wouldn’t allow it! He wouldn't allow any of it!

They would not defeat him! They could not defeat him. They would not take her from him!

Power gathered at his core, like a damn full to bursting, he heard her whispers caress his ear, her fingers at his spine. Her strength flowed into him, mending his weakening body as fire consumed the furnace around them.

The human knelt, hiding behind his shield, as flame washed over him, exposed cloth was caught by tongues of fire, the slab of steel he hid behind began to char and blacken beneath the heat.

The old one. He senses him charging, the crunch of ash beneath armored feet, a word of warning at his ear.

He turns, faster than anything these mortals have ever faced, weapon coming down to strike.

The old mortal's blade is in the way. His charge ground to a halt, teeth gritted face twisted in pain as the flames burn, unbearably hot just a scant few inches away from his hands. His arms strain to hold him back, feet sliding on loose ash as the Knight pushes against him.

He draws back and the old man stumbles, the back of his head falling into his grip and brought down with brutal force onto the top of his armored knee.

There is a crunch of bone, a gush of warm blood and he is throwing the old fool onto the woman that had sought to strike him in the back. Armor and flesh met in a tangle of limbs, the woman cries out in pain, falling with her friend, unable to lift the sheer dead weight now resting over her.

Her mask has fallen away, and he sees the corruption there. The taint.

Undead...

He lunges, black flames will leave nothing but bones in seconds.

Then he's standing there, a clash of steel ringing in his ear. It has been an age since there was an enemy that could meet him blade upon blade. Since one could match his strength, weather his flames.

It has been an age. And he does not like that it has ended!

He is the strongest! He was always the strongest!

“Get away from them!” He hears the mortal snarl beneath his helm, pushing him back! All but ignoring the heat of fire, the tongues of burning darkness that snap at his flesh.

The towering knight digs his feet into the ash, looking to resist, to push against the mortal but it is not like the old man, or the woman. They’re weak. Motes of dust struggling against a storm.

Here. Here he feels as though he is the one trying to resist the implacable advance of an ocean...

Like he did the day he fought Velstadt...

The howls of the ancient knight echo through the desiccated corpse of the Brume Tower.

His mistress watches.

She sees them both. Sees her Knight, her faithful, prideful Raime.

Sees this mortal, his allies.

Sees the tower. The trail of dead.

Sees the lands beyond.

Sees the crumbling ruins of Dranleic.

She sees the remains of the corpse that was the land of the king she'd so sought to conquer. To have for herself. He was meant to be hers before his lands sunk into fire. Leaving her with naught but ash and the tower he used to forge his greatest engines of war.

She sees these things. But they are almost irrelevant.

Because she can see him the mortal. The one fighting her beloved Raime.

And it is the flicker of a memory that is not hers. A fragment of something lost to the annals of history, where memory is ash and dust.

It is a man.

A mortal man like this one...he stands in the dark.

He is facing...it is not her but it is.

It is not her sight, her body, her power but...it is.

There is power there. A soul. Insignificant at first glance...

But powerful...

So...incomprehensibly powerful!

And suddenly...she knows.

Her beloved, Powerful Raime cannot prevail.

Not against him.

Not against the Sovereign.

Many try, age after age.

None succeed...

None ever will.

Raime will fight.

Her Raime will Fight and he will die.

He is the strongest. He is the strongest because she made it so.

But this one has defeated her before...when she was stronger still...

He will be as implacable as the rising sun. She does not know how. She does not understand why

But he will win today.

Already she can feel her knight tiring again, feel the blade cut open flesh beneath obsidian armor, feel Raime's strength ebbing as the mortal's own grows.

She can feel the Lightning dancing upon the mortal’s blade, she can feel how the flames of Raime’s fury weaken, crashing over the mortal as uselessly as waves upon a rock. His speed grows as Raime's tactics became known to him as though he could memorize where her knight would strike, how he would react. As though he could see it before it happened.

Raime is weakening. And the sovereign is only growing stronger, his magnificent, deceitfully small soul now burning in her minds eye as greatly as the flames that Raime now forced to burn through the ash covered furnace.

The souls of his allies were strong...but not like his...nothing like his. His strength will now forever overshadow theirs. It will now forever be beyond their reach. She could hear their whispers across their minds. Could faintly see the glimpses of history, of battles fought together. Inside the belly of a ship, in the darkest recesses of a lost prison, in a chamber surrounded by flame, a coven of madmen. All of these places they have been together always it was they that helped carry the day. They'd been stronger, faster, more experienced.

But as ever they were only mortal.

He was something...more.

A panic grips her.

He will win...and her beloved Knight's soul will be lost to her forever.

Her soul...will be lost forever!

They have to leave! Flee! To one of her sisters! Away from this place! To warn them! To...

No...No...it couldn't be...

They could not win.

He was the Sovereign.

The next link...in the endless chain.

They might delay him, evade him, but never halt him.

There is a cry; pain.

The phantomine sensation lances through her chest and she finds herself peering through the roaring flames, the upturned ash-

Fire spews out of Raimes armor, he is desperate, at his most powerful, the other humans need to pull away, to escape the impossible heat.

The sovereign, inch by agonizing inch, drives the blade deeper into the flesh beneath pierced armor.

They have to flee

She dregs up the last of her power, the last, untarnished shards of her soul, and calls on the ash. It roils and shakes, splits the earth and pushes mortar from brick, foundation from stone. The great furnace tower, the engine that fueled the era of the ancient Iron King splits with a thunderous crack, the ash that permeates every wall and crevice literally pushing it apart.

The ash is a part of the earth, has become mixed with the soil after millenia of constant fall.

With the last of her strength...she pushes and the earth itself begins to split and crack.

“Come on!” The human. The cursed woman, braves the flames, forces herself past them to grasp her ruler by the shoulder, pulling him away as the tower crumbles above them and the earth shatters beneath them.

“Lucatiel I can-” The sovereign resists

“No!” She pulls harder, more insistent. A chunk of masonry falls beside her and she cries out in surprise.

He pulls his blade free and flees beside her.

Raime...her dear devoted Raime falls to his knees as the blade is pulled free, clutching at a wound that will not close. Feeling now the true dark encroaching on his sight.

The humans, the Sovereign, they flee as the tower crumbles.

She falls. She falls so far. Beyond the tower. Beyond the reach of the world and pulls her protector with her into the dark, the deep place where none tread.

Into the ancient chasm where her father died.

-0-

She hides there...She's not sure how long, cradling her dear Raime as he rasps weakened breaths, struggling to heal.

There is nothing here. No ash, no flame. She cannot help him, only rest and hope.

She hides here. She's not sure how long...

He finds her eventually though.

Not the sovereign. Another. Another shard. But not like her, not like her sisters. He is different this one. Older...Or perhaps...younger. She is unsure anymore. But he has always been different.

She looks upon him with his white robes and alabaster skin and does not know what to feel.

Elana despises him, Nashandra dismisses him, Alsana fears him.

She...needs him.

He is the watcher.

The one who rests closest to their father. Who guards what little sanctum remains of his grave. Either out of respect or loathing, he will let none pass into the depths of the great chasm.

He's never said a word. He merely watches...and listens.

His blade is drawn, a weapon that emits light, that banishes the darkness around him. Beginning at his fingertips, the faceless shadow beneath his hood is facing her, demanding an explanation.

“I need to stay...just for a while...just enough for him to recover...for us to flee. Just a little while.

He steps closer. She does not have the strength to fight him. She never did, even at the height of her power. Perhaps Elana or Nashandra could defeat him.

As she is now, it would take him no effort.

Did she flee the sovereign only to die here?

The hand moves slowly, past her, towards-

“No!” She demands...pleads. Her hand coming between the tip of the blade and Raime, feeling herself burn as though she held it over an open flame.“No! Please...just for a while! I swear it...then we will leave!”

The faceless specter stares. It does not move.

Then after a window of eternity, its power recedes, the blade vanishes he follows shortly, disappearing from all her senses as though he were never there.

-0-

She is the oracle of solace. Of solitude.

She can feel it in other people, sense it.

Its somber call sings to her, calls her close. It is what brought her to the iron kingdom, the call of solitude. Its king held such a sweet song since his separation from Mytha, the poisonous queen of a lesser place.

Love turned to hate so easily, so readily.

It was his solace that killed him, that called to her. It was Raime's solace that let her call him, like a siren sings to a sailor. Her wrathful Knight had been drawn ever closer until he was hers and hers alone

As she waited here, in the silence, in the dark, watching her knight heal, listening to him breathe in slumber, she listened to the songs of many.

Like fireflies in the night twinkling so brightly you can see them all no matter how far they are.

But one song...one song was so beautiful to her ears, its own siren's call and she was the sailor.

But it was so far...so very far she could barely hear its whisper, feel its hypnotic cry.

Beautiful.

She listened...listened for what felt like an age...

But soon listening was not enough...it could not be.

For the curse of life, is the curse of want

She wanted to catch this far, brightly glimmering firefly.

“We must leave now beloved.” She whispered in a voice only he could hear her hand trailing over the panes of his armor.

She looked up, and the watcher was there, featureless face turned towards the two of them, hovering on wings that did not move.

If he was here to see them off or warn them that they’d outworn their welcome. She did not know. One could never know with him.

Into the dark they left, towards that beautiful song of solitude.

Chapter Text

Interlude: Miss Militia

Miss Militia stepped out of the Parahuman Response Team van

Taking in the scene she let out a breath and beheld the ruin of Winslow high.

The entire school was burnt to the ground, nothing was left standing, not even shingles.

Everything around them had a blanket of fine fine ash spread over it. That alone would have been enough to bring their attention, natural fires left remains. This one didn’t, save for the outlying facilities like the Physical Education gym and a few bathrooms leading out to the track field.

The dark skinned woman saw the fire crews struggling to put out the remaining flames around them. Unfortunately, they were off color; a strange hue of orange that cast deep negative shades around its edges. Obviously parahuman in origin and incredibly difficult to put out by all she’d heard so far.

It was lucky the school had no buildings immediately next to it. An island surrounded by streets.

If the flames had gotten to some of the homes or offices nearby…

She saw a fireman approach her.

“Miss Militia?” He asked. He seemed to be in his forties. Old, rugged, and experienced. No doubt the Fire Captain.

He held out his hand, she took it, offering a firm shake that he returned. “We were told this was due to a trigger event. Where is the parahuman?” She asked, eyes panning over the remains of the school.

“Over here by the ambulance. No one was hurt in the event, thank god. Everyone evacuated. Considering this,” the captain gestured to the ruined Winslow High. “It’s a friggin’ miracle.”

‘Some good news at least’ she thought. Trigger events allowed for a lot of leeway in terms of waiving punishment; but in the event people were killed things got… more complicated sometimes.

“Is he okay?”

“She, actually” The captain corrected before shaking his head “And I don’t know. Girl seems fine but she was the epicenter. When my men found her, she was and still is as far as I know, unresponsive. So I can’t say if she really is alright outside of the fact that she wasn’t burnt.”

“No smoke inhalation either?”

“Either the girl held her breath or she’s immune to that.” He answered. Then pointed behind him. “One more thing. We found some...things next to her. It's what made us call you guys ASAP.”

That made her raise an eyebrow. “What things?”

“Dunno. Statues I guess.” He shrugged. “Really creepy ones too. I don’t wanna get anywhere near it.”

She nodded. “Alright. After I speak to her, could you show me where they are?”

He nodded. “Sure. Honestly you can’t miss the damn things.”

They approached the ambulance and Miss Militia got a good look at the girl.

She was young, willowy and thin. She could see that even with the large blanket wrapped around her. She looked to be around sixteen given her height. Her hair was a mess of long dark curls that reached her back. She saw the glasses on a nearby tray and figured they were hers. Her eyes were empty, hollow as she held onto the blanket, oblivious to the sounds going on around her.

Miss Militia’s eyes softened. She’d seen looks like that before.

She approached slowly, right in front of her to ensure the girl wasn’t startled or surprised.

Kneeling down, the heroine smiled through her scarf. “Hi there.” She said.

Kneeling, she was lower than the girl and distantly she remembered how dog trainers did this to appear non threatening when approaching a skittish animal

The girl said nothing, simply stayed staring at something only she could see.

Slowly, visibly Militia reached out, placing her hand on the young girls’ knee.

The girl flinched, her whole body recoiling like she’d just been burned, Hannah’s heart stuttered in her chest, fearing for a second she’d made a mistake before the girl seemed to come to, snapping out of whatever fugue had gripped her as she blinked rapidly, her eyes focusing as they settled on Hannah.

They widened at the sight of her.

“You’re Miss Militia…” She whispered in awe.

She smiled. It was always a little flattering to see that kind of naked awe on a young fan.  “My reputation precedes me.” She said kindly, nodding. “Yes, I am Miss Militia. What’s your name?”

The girl went quiet, her lips pressed together and the naked trepidation that was suddenly there was as obvious as her surprise had been a second earlier.

 “Don’t worry.” Hannah gently placed her hand again on the girl’s knee. “You’re not in any trouble I promise.”

She gnawed on her lip, hesitating. “T-Taylor...Taylor Hebert.” She finally stuttered out.

Hannah nodded. “Well Taylor, can I ask you a question?”

Taylor was silent, but nodded.

“Do you know what happened to start the fire?”

Now the girl stiffened, a sharp inhale through her nose; and it was answer enough.

“I promise.” Hannah assured. “No matter what you say you won’t be in trouble. But I need you to tell me the truth now hun.”

Another nod, the girl opened her mouth, clicking in her throat as she almost visibly choked on the words.

Hannah leaned forward just a bit, settling her legs on a more comfortable position. “Was it because of...something that happened to you”

Taylor didn’t speak, but the tears that suddenly gathered at the corner of her eyes was enough of an answer.

“I see.” Miss Militia took note. “You don’t have to tell me specifics if you don’t want to-” She promised. Trigger events were… horrible, and demanding or forcing her to revisit them for the Protectorate’s convenience was… distasteful. They could get their answers elsewhere. “-but can you give me an idea of what happened?”

Silence, and Taylor only held the blanket tighter around her body.

Yeah, she isn’t going to answer that one.

“Alright, we don’t-”

“If I say yes...will the ones responsible for...for this, get in trouble? Will something happen to them?”

Miss Militia perked up, Taylor’s voice was frail… and brittle in a way that sent warning bells across her mind. Not brittle in the sense that the girl was on the verge of tears; but in a way that spoke of something deeper.

Militia decided to make it easier for her; leading the conversation rather than forcing her to fully relive the memory.

The picture was clear enough. “You’re saying that someone did something to you? That someone attacked you?”

…

“Taylor?”

“They…” The girl suddenly said, her voice flat and wooden. “Pushed me… shoved me inside my locker. They’d… they filled it with-” She gave a full bodied shudder and lurched forward, as though she was ready to throw up at the mere memory.

Hannah’s hand was on her back, rubbing circles across her spine.

“Easy. Easy.” Militia soothed. “You don’t have to tell me right now. It’s ok. You’re ok.”

Taylor shook for a second longer, visibly composing herself before she nodded, a broken, shaking nod.

Hannah took a breath; she wasn’t sure what these attackers had placed inside that locker for that kind of reaction but she didn’t necessarily need to.

She’d find whoever caused this.

“Taylor, listen to me.” Taylor didn’t look up. “Please; Look at me.” Miss Militia put a hand on her shoulder and the girl looked up.

“I promise you, whoever did this. They will suffer the consequences…” The superheroine said, her voice hard.

And Taylor’s eyes grew… sad, her body almost curling in on itself, as if she didn’t believe her. As if the thought of Hannah’s promise being something she’d long deemed impossible.

“I promise.” The heroine swore, almost willing the girl to believe her.

Finally Taylor nodded and Hannah found it in herself to smile under her American flag scarf.

“Do you have any family?” She asked. “Someone we can contact?”

Taylor nodded. “Yeah, my dad. We...he doesn’t like cell phones. But I know his work phone.”

“That would be very helpful.” She said gently.

The girl said the number straight off of memory and just like that Hannah had it. “I’ll be right back, ok? I just need to check on something and I’ll come right back.” For a moment, Taylor looked uneasy before she schooled her features, mastering that unease and burying it with a firm nod.

Militia walked off, ordering a PRT officer to call Taylor’s father and inform him of the general event.

Marching off, she found the fire captain.

“Show me these statues you were talking about.” The captain nodded and gestured her to follow. They walked around the flaming debris and tinders, the firemen around them still working on putting out the flames at the edges of the school grounds.

“We’re getting close.” The fireman stepped around a charred I beam. Nothing remained of the concrete and the slab of steel was little more than melted down slag.

Miss Militia followed and as they moved over a rise of ash her eyes went wide, a gasp escaping her.

Before her, a locker was blackened and charred and right next to them were cold grey… statues...of a sort. Twisted limbs in a mockery of hands that were too spindly, too long-fingered, bony and skeletal like spider legs.

They were a corpse grey, color. Multiple long and gangly arms covered the upper torso. She could see a head...but no face...as if the face had been ripped off, what hair she could see was black and wiry like thick metal wire. As the wind blew dust and ash across the school’s remains, she could hear…

Whispers?

Her fear instantly went to Master effects, hesitating for a moment before she decided to risk stepping closer.

“What do you think?” Asked the fire captain. “One of the braver boys tried to take an axe to the thing but he barely even cracked it. Of Course, no one else wants to go anywhere near it and frankly, I don’t blame em. Hell, only reason we even came this close was to get the lass out of that locker.”

Militia’s eyes darted to the man, then to the charred locker.

And it was charred. Not melted. As if the flames had danced around the tiny coffin. The lock was broken, pried off likely with a crowbar.

The outside was black with fire damage but the inside was still green with cheap paint. She approached and opened the ruined door a little further and knelt down.

She saw ash sitting at the base. Disturbed from when they’d pulled Taylor out no doubt. Miss Militia’s eyes trailed down to the ash-covered floor before the metal container. Where several things had fallen out as Taylor had been rescued. She held it up and her eyes narrowed.

Bloodied tampons?

The smell hit her then, and it was only long years of being familiar with smells just as unpleasant, like decomp that kept her from gagging though she did wince.

Had the people who attacked Taylor thrown her in there with these? Stuffed her in a locker full of them? Some kind of prank? Bullying or hazing gone too far?

She placed her hand over the ash, rummaging through what rested inside and pushing away what was right in front.

Four...six...nine...She didn’t need to keep counting at that point.She clenched her teeth, breathed out of her nose forcing herself to calm.

“...Miss Militia?” The dark skinned woman tossed the tampon back into the locker and turned.

“It’s nothing.” She walked over to the statues, touching them. They felt like ash, but harsher, almost like sandpaper and did not budge beneath her fingertips.

Cold, grey, lifeless. They did not react or seem to recognize her presence.

“I’ve seen what I need to see.” She breathed. “Carry on, captain.”

The man nodded, gripping the front of his fire helmet with two fingers and tipping it in a salute. “Ma’am.”

She began walking back towards the ambulance and still saw Taylor sitting there. She perked up as she saw Miss Militia approach.

She smiled at the girl, as reassuring as possible with a scarf covering up half her face.“Taylor. Are you up to coming with me to the PRT headquarters? I’ll have a man contact your father on the way.” She promised.

Taylor seemed to shrink into herself. “What if he’s already on his way? We don’t...we don’t use cellphones so-”

“I can leave someone here to wait for him, or we can wait for him if you like. But its better if we head to PRT headquarters as soon as we can.” She didn’t want to pressure her; but the sooner they reached ‘safe’ grounds, the better. Already too many people could have likely put together the locker with a trigger event; and the sooner they got Taylor out of sight for a little while the better.

Taylor hesitated, shifting where she sat.

“W-we can go.” She mumbled quietly. Then- looked up.

“Will you make me join the wards?” She asked and the trepidation was there, like the idea was akin to Hannah demanding she put her hand in a wolverine cage.

“Hun, it doesn't really work like that.” She shook her head. “We need to speak with your father.” She assured me. “He’s your legal guardian; and you and he are the ones who make the decision. We won’t force you to do anything.”

She stepped closer, planting herself to sit beside the girl on the ambulance bumper. “The Protectorate doesn’t see a Parahuman trigger and say ‘Hey, you’re coming with us to be a hero!’. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Even after…” Taylor looked to the remains of the school. “All of this?”

Hannah nodded slowly. “The collateral from your trigger is… larger than most. But no one was hurt. And from what I saw your panic was… understandable. You’ve given me no reason to think you’re dangerous, so all your options are still open to you hun.”

Taylor remained silent, but she seemed to understand then and there. “It’s all voluntary then.”

“In a way, ye-”

“Taylor!” The sound of a male voice made Taylor perk up and she bolted to her feet seeing a  man running towards her practically throwing off the police and PRT troopers around him.

Miss Militia stood up, holding out her hand to tell the cops to stop

“Dad!” The tall willowy girl was almost bowled over, Mr. Hebert’s whole body slamming into her, picking her up off her feet. The man was crying in obvious relief.

The kurdish woman looked over the man observing him.

Mr. Hebert was tall, skinny, dark-haired-but-slightly balding now the center of his hairline making a valiant effort to stay clinging to his scalp as its left and right sides kept on receding. His glasses were thick and horn rimmed. The beginnings of a beard starting to form around his cheeks and lips.

Miss Militia noticed Taylor’s shoulders shuddering. The superheroine remained quiet, allowing the two a moment.

“Mr. Hebert?” She raised her hand a little and Mr. Hebert noticed her.

The man blinked. “Miss Militia?”

“Yeah dad, it’s Miss Militia.” Taylor answered for her. Mr. Hebert looked at his daughter, setting her down on the ground again as he cleared his throat.

“First time I’ve ever met a superhero in person.” He walked forward, shaking Miss Militia’s hand. “What happened? I heard on the news that the school was on fire, so I came right away.”

“As you can see she’s alright which is the most important thing Mr. Hebert. There was no smoke inhalation as far as we can tell but...”

“But what?” He asked the note of trepidation returning to his voice.

“This isn’t the best place to discuss things.” She said, then gestured. “I promise Taylor isn’t in any sort of trouble. But I must ask that you come with me to PRT headquarters.”

(X)

Protectorate HQ

Danny followed Miss Militia out of the van. They had stopped to drop off Taylor at home to let her get some sleep.

One of the PRT teams was parked outside of his home to keep an eye on things there. It had been the only way to convince him to leave his daughter alone after the long day.

Strictly speaking it was against procedure to do this. Still, Taylor was not a flight risk as far as she could tell, nor was she a danger. Militia felt uncomfortable pressuring someone immediately after a trigger when they were at their most vulnerable. Colin could do it. Shut down and do the job. Piggot would demand it as well.

She turned back, seeing the bi-spectacled  man wipe his brow of sweat. “I can’t believe my daughter is a parahuman…”

Miss Militia remained silent as they entered the building, walking it’s hallways. Navigating through the halls she was glad that Armsmaster was out on Patrol and Piggot was busy with a conference with other PRT directors. She really didn’t think either of them would be a help. More likely than not they’d just scare the already shaken man.

Finding her office she sat down behind her desk “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair, and Danny sat down.

“So, I bet you’re wondering. What could have lead to Taylor triggering.” Miss Militia asked rhetorically. Danny nodded.

“Yes. I heard that trigger events are tied in with trauma and bad experiences. My wife passed away two years ago, but she didn’t trigger then.”

“It's… very rare for a trigger event to be brought on by a loved one passing away. It must be something… more. Harsher, Direct, Cruel even.” The superheroine pointed out quietly

“Something happened to my daughter.” Danny whispered. “Did she tell you how she triggered?”

“No, but I was able to get the general idea after speaking with her.” Miss Militia stared at Danny right in the eye. “Mr. Hebert, I believe your daughter was the target of bullying of some kind. Would you know or have heard anything about that?”

Danny’s face immediately told her he hadn’t. “Wha-No! She… she’s never mentioned anything like that. Emma hasn’t-”

That made her eyebrow raise. “Emma?”

“Taylor’s friend since they were kids.” He mumbled, rubbing at his temples. “She would have said something. Helped her.”

Militia nodded. She’d have to schedule an interview with Emma. “Her last name?”

Danny blinked, confused for a moment. “Oh. Barnes. Emma Barnes.”

She nodded again watching as Danny’s face hardened, the shock giving way to naked anger as he looked at her. “Who did this? Who hurt my daughter?”

“I intend to find out.” She nodded. “I’ll speak to Taylor again, then schedule an interview with Ms. Barnes and other students once things settle down”

Mr. Hebert’s nostrils flared, and his face turned red; she watched as he visibly forced his temper to cool, his next words bit out through clenched teeth. Not towards her; but the situation. “I’m sorry Miss Militia…This is all-”

“I understand Mr. Hebert..” The dark skinned woman sat back. “I understand your anger and frustration. But, to be honest, I know what your daughter has gone through. All capes will...triggers are not pleasant memories for any of us.”

Danny remained silent, nodding. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing, mine happened a long time ago.” Miss Militia commented. “Now, your daughter hasn’t given me names yet, but I promise you. I will find the ones responsible and bring them to answer for it.“ She looked directly into his eyes and Danny calmed down, breathing in and out.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Now, when I see Taylor again, I will ask her on who bullied her and why if I can get your permission.”

“Yes of course.” Danny was curt, waving it. “By all means.”

“Please understand.” She stressed. “I’m not asking out of formality; it’s… a warning. These bullies caused her to trigger. It will be upsetting for her to speak about it. So when you’re giving me permission, be aware that this won’t be… simple, for her to talk about.”

Now understanding flashed before his eyes, his lips drawn in a thin line and he gave another, more definitive nod.

She nodded back. “Make sure she’s ready for me to ask her about it, Mr. Hebert. I’d rather not upset her if I can avoid it.”

“Alright.”

“Now then.” Miss Militia nodded and wrote in her note. “I brought you here not just to ask for your permission to interview Taylor.” She reached into her desk and brought out a file and several papers. Danny took the papers and began to look through them and his eyes went up.

“You want Taylor to join the Wards.” He surmised.

“I am informing you it’s an option Mr. Hebert.” She corrected. “I do not intend to pressure you into anything. This-” She gestured to the papers. “Is informational and I would very much suggest you talk it over with Taylor before you reach any decision.”

His eyes turned back to the papers, beginning to sift through them.

“Remember” She continued; “This is all voluntary. While Taylor did cause damage, no one was hurt during her trigger, which leaves many doors open that would otherwise be closed..”

Danny read through the words and fine print, sometimes taking the time to look up at the superheroine.

“It says all Wards must be in school during their tenure and graduate. With Winslow gone-”

“Rest assured, if she is in the Wards, Taylor would be able to get an immediate transfer to Arcadia High.The waiting list would be bypassed.” Danny perked up.

“She’s always wanted to go there over these past few years. But with things as they are...” He cut himself off, feeling a bit ashamed. “I can take this with me right? Let her read it?I think it’s been...a long day for the both of us.”

“Of course.” Miss Militia stood up, offering him an envelope to put the application in. “Take as long as you need.” She opened the door and walked with him. “I’ll have someone drive you to your car by Winslow.”

“Thank you. Really.” He said

“Of course. When the two of you make your decision,” Miss Militia gave him a card from her chest pocket. “Call this number.” He took it and placed it in his wallet, nodding.

He looked it over, pocketing the card before extending his hand, a grateful smile on his lips. “You got it.” He closed the door and marched out.

Hannah sat back in her seat quickly writing up her report for Director Piggot.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

Arc 1. Spark

1.1

3 days after the Winslow High Fire

I jogged up the steps of my home and got to the door, checking my watch. 7:15. A good forty-five minutes on my run. I take my small towel and wiped my head of sweat as I opened the door

It was Thursday, three days since I triggered at the school.

I was able to spend my time at the house while dad spent the day after I triggered with me before he went back to work.

I walked inside and spotted dad at the table sipping coffee and eating leftover lasagna. He looked up and smiled. “Morning kiddo.”

“Hey dad.” I walked past him to get a water bottle from the fridge, drinking from it.

“Enjoy your run?” He asked, lifting up the paper.

“It was good.” All of my runs were good. It was a good distraction. I took another sip and sat down across from him.

“So….” He began slowly, and I knew immediately where this was going. I looked up and he was staring at me. “Wanna talk about it today?” His eyes were soft, setting down his cup as he watched me.

I took a breath… “Guess I can’t run from it forever.”

“Fraid not.” He smiled wryly, “Do you want a shower first? You must be sweaty.”

“Yeah- sounds good.” I finished drinking the entire water bottle and went upstairs into the bathroom. I shed off my workout clothes and started the water.

As I felt the hot water wash over me, cascading down my hair and body I can’t help but let my mind wander.

I’m a parahuman.

A parahuman that can release powerful flames that are harder to put out than they had any right to be.

I...I’d screamed and clawed at the walls of the locker, I couldn’t breathe.

I know I hurt myself in there...but the injuries were gone later...cut hands, my voice was hoarse by the end…

I felt so alone…

After that I don’t remember anything...just emotions...despair was one, desperation was another…

There was also anger...rage.

At everything really. At the school for abiding by it, at me for being so helpless, at...at my dad for being useless, at Madison, at Sophia…

At Emma. 

I just wanted the whole world to burn for an instant…

I got my wish...sort of anyway.

And now I have the chance to join the Wards and proxy the Protectorate. I could become a hero.

How long ago had that dream been?

I could barely remember…

My thoughts wandered to the trio. Sophia, Madison, Emma…

Militia had promised she’d do something. She’d promised to make them pay for it.

Finally; something would happen… something would stick.

Someone believed me. Not Emma and her rich dad, not Sophia the track star, not Madison and her innocent act.

Someone believed me… and they were finally going to pay for it.

I shook my head as I lathered my long hair in shampoo. Being vindictive isn’t a heroic attitude.

I just… I just have to give Miss Militia names. And… and she’ll handle it. Militia wasn’t Blackwell, Wasn’t the school. She wouldn’t just ignore it.

I finished my shower and dried up, putting on some jeans and a black tank top. I got downstairs and sat on the couch where Dad was sitting.

“Okay then.” He smiled as he had the application forms in front of him. “Let’s talk this out.” I turned towards the clock, seeing that it was twenty till eight.

“You don’t mind being late for work?” I asked in concern.

“I’ll miss work if I have to.” He answered. “Okay. So…” He licked at his lips, seemingly thinking about what he wanted to say. “Pros and Cons?”

I shrugged. “Pros and cons”

He nodded, then sighed “Wanna get the cons out of the way Taylor? I have some things I wanna get off my chest. Things that have had me worried for you.”

That… didn’t sound good.

“Sure. Go ahead.” Dad readjusted his glasses and leaned forward.

“Okay. Protectorate HQ is almost an hour’s drive from here with normal traffic. Coming and going every day is a two hour commute and that’s without factoring in detours of my traveling to work or needing to wait for you to get back from the Rig where the Heroes train. That adds to the travel time. Just by that you may have to stay over there more often than I’d like depending on the hours they give you. , which means...I may not see you much anymore.” Danny had a sad look in his eyes.

I opened my mouth, about to blurt out that we’d still see each other as much as usual… that is to say once in the morning and once at night before I stopped myself cold.

That was… definitely the wrong thing to say.

“Dad, I’ll still stop by and you can visit me” I place a hand on his. “It’ll be like...college right? Students come and go all the time.” I offered him smile and he returned it.

“Oh sweetie…” He wrapped me in a hug and held me tight, and I feel warm.

“It’s not just that though.” He continued and gave another heaving sigh. “I… I looked into it and I know Parahumans need to use their powers or they start having problems but I don’t-” He paused, hesitating. “Fire isn’t like that rogue Parian. You’re going to be fighting Taylor. Fighting villains in Brockton Bay.”

“Maybe but I thought the Wards didn’t fight.” I said.

“They’re not supposed to.” Dad growled. “But I’ve checked the statistics, the Brockton Bay Branch has wards face more combat than almost any other branch.”

I winced

“I… didn’t know that.”

Dad Sighed. “Taylor… I know you have to use your powers. Damn near every article I found online says so, but, Is this what you want?” He asked.

I had to pause, thinking for a long, quiet moment.

“I…” I liked my lips, swallowing through a dry throat. “I think so.”

Dad’s face told me that my own uncertainty wasn’t reassuring him.

I thought back… back to the locker. To Miss Militia.

Seeing her there… hearing her promise that everything would be ok- that she would make things ok…

It was like waking up from a dream. Like a stone had been on my chest and finally someone had come to help me lift it and I could breathe again.

I realized, suddenly- I wanted that. I wanted to be that.

When I spoke this time… I was certain.

“Yes.” I nodded. “Yes I want this…”

He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t fight it. He didn’t protest, giving me one more nod.

“Those are the big ones for me…” He sighed. “Outside of those two… everything else seems to be a net positive as far as I can tell. Training. Funds. A transfer to Arcadia- the works.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” That transfer is really the one that mattered most to me- the rest, the rest was just gravy.

In Winslow… even if the trio was gone I would still be… Taylor. I would still be the girl that no one hung out with. The girl that was an easy target. I didn’t want that. I wanted a fresh start. Arcadia could give me that. No Winslow means no bullies. No one knew me. No one knew my history. I wouldn’t be Taylor Hebert the locker girl I’d be… just Taylor.

Dad shifted in his seat, leaning forward and I turned my eyes towards him.

“As an aside… I…” He hesitated. “I- don’t really understand why you don’t want to tell me names.” Dad asked. “I get telling them to Miss Militia, but why not me kiddo? I’m hardly gonna jump in my truck and go find these kids.”

“You might be surprised” I said quietly “Don’t worry...you’ll hear eventually but...I just wanna tell Miss Militia first..”

I could tell he was someone hurt by it. Much as he tried to hide it. I leaned against him.

“It’s okay dad. It’s… over now.” I couldn’t help but grin softly. “Besides, once I’m a hero, I will be sure to get you a nice house up in the nice part of town. Or maybe grab you a good retirement home.”

Dad chuckled, “I aint that old kiddo. He looked back at the application form. “Well, needs both of our signatures.” He had two pens out and handed one of them to me. “Together?”

I smiled.

And we signed the first page-

“Your cursive needs work Taylor.”

My hand met my face. There goes the heartfelt mood...before I laughed a little. “Yeah sure. I’ll see if there’s any cursive teaching course at Arcadia.”

“You’ll need that for autographs and making signatures. It’s a neat skill.”

“One that’s outdated old man.” I snarked startled at my own humor as I saw his face light up..

“Uh huh. I’ll be sure to tell Miss Militia how disrespectful you’ve been to this old man. See if she wants you as a Hero then.”

(X)

I rode in shotgun as Dad drove up to the checkpoint on the bridge leading to the Protectorate Headquarters. My hands were gripped together fidgeting with nervous energy in my seat

My dad stopped at the checkpoint and talked to the guard, saying that a “Miss Washington” was going to meet and greet him and me. Turns out Miss Militia was out on patrol and Miss Washington was going to be the one to take care of us today.

I...wasn’t too happy about that to be honest. I wanted Miss Militia to hear it directly. But I could understand.

Before long the gate before us opened and Dad drove on through.

As we passed the gate; that same feeling of relief washed over me, like I was literally passing a threshold.

It felt like the new beginning I so desperately wanted it to be. I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach, a strange cocktail of dread and hope bubble inside as I tried to tamp down my expectations with the brutal pragmatism Winslow had drilled into me.

We got out and made our way to the front door, waiting for us already was a dark skinned woman with straight obsidian hair. She seemed middle eastern. At least I guessed so. She was dressed in blue business clothes carrying a tablet. Blouse, skirt, glasses, high heels and all. She looked happy to meet us as we walked up.

“Miss Washington I presume?” Asked Dad as he offered his hand and she shook it.

“Hannah Washington. Protectorate assistant to Superheroine Miss Militia. It’s a pleasure to meet you two.” She looked at me next. “Taylor Hebert?”

I nodded her way. “Hi” I said softly

“The Protectorate offers its sincere gratitude and thanks to you for joining.” She shook my hand. “Any helping hand is needed. Now then, let’s go to my desk, we can talk there.” She led the way for me and Dad through the white hallways and we placed ourselves at a desk just outside a plain foggy glass door that had the plaque of “Miss Militia” on the front. We took our seats, me and Dad sitting across from Ms. Washington.

“Now then, may I see your application form? Dad nodded, holding out a file he’d brought in from outside. Hannah smiled as she took it.

“Alright.” She leafed through the pages making sure everything was filled out. “Now just to make certain “Your name is Taylor Hebert correct?”

I nodded, then snapped out a reply fidgeting in my seat. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “It's alright hun don’t worry. Now, the street address is 38 Lincoln Road, House Four B zip code 00792?”

“Correct.” Her dad said.

“No known allergies to medication?”

“None that we know of.” My dad answered again. I was more than happy to let him field the questions for now.

“You grant permission for Blood Transfusions, Medical Treatments and the use of the Superheroine Panacea’s healing method in the event of emergencies?”

“Of course.”

“Taylor’s Blood type is Type B positive, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You consent to her undergoing a medical examination as part of her admittance into the Wards Program?”

“Yes.”

“You have medical insurance that covers Taylor’s expenses?”

“As part of my job, yes.” He answered, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet and pulled out a card. “Here.”

She took the card, jotting down the card and policy number somewhere. “Alright. Quite frankly, our medical coverage is, Mr. Hebert, far more extensive and...well...better than yours to cover any injuries Taylor might receive. Do you consent to us placing her under it?”

“That depends, not to be insulting or anything but do the terms stipulate that she can’t be dropped because of some pre-existing condition? My Jobs insurance has that clause but, once she goes under another insurance company they withdraw coverage. I don’t want to switch policies only for her to end up getting dropped because she had her tonsils taken out when she was twelve.”

“Dad!” I complained. No one needed to know that! I sounded like I had a cold with a runny nose for a month after that.

She was smiling. It didn’t seem fake but I couldn’t be sure after Dad’s words. “No offense taken. I understand completely. And no. Believe me that our insurance doesn’t drop its parahumans under any circumstances. Nor do the premiums go up. So Taylor will be covered even if she had a hundred pre-existing conditions.”

“If that’s the case then yeah...as long as I get to read over it first.”

“Of course. I don’t have a copy on me but by the end of the day I’m sure I can find you one.”

Dad nodded. “Thanks”

“If there are no further concerns that is most of the preliminary questions I had to make sure of. There would only be one thing left to handle.” She looked at me, her eyes were kind. “Taylor, hun, if you feel comfortable now I need to take your statement on the bullies now so I can pass it to Miss Militia when she gets back tonight.”

I fidgeted in my seat. “I...can I wait for Miss Militia?”

“You can.” She assured me. “But she won’t be coming in until later tonight. I promise that everything you say will reach her ears as if she was sitting right here. I can even record this conversation for her if you’d like.”

Dad’s hand rubbed my shoulder “It’s okay kiddo.”

It didn’t feel like it. For so long there’d been nothing I could do. I couldn’t fight back, I couldn’t complain. I couldn’t do anything except sit there and take it.

Miss Militia believed me. She made the promise. Not Miss Washington.

And the fear that this would just be more of the same, another disappointment, another set of nice sounding words that led nowhere, reared back up and almost choked me.

Then I mastered myself, shoved down the fear, shoved down the skepticism.

The Heroes weren’t couldn’t be like the teachers at Winslow. Like Blackwell.

If I can’t trust them to do the right thing… then what was I even doing joining them.

“They...they...”

“You don’t have to say exactly what happened if you don’t want to.” Miss Washington assured me. “We have investigators that can fill in the blanks pretty well if you don’t want to talk about it. You just have to give us names and we’ll do the rest.”

I nodded, shivering as the memory of the locker returned. The smell and the dark and the pain. My cut hands, the heat and the smoke and the screaming….

 I don’t want to go back there…

“Madison Clements.” The first name slipped past my lips and I saw her write it down. I stared at her hands, not trusting myself to look at her face and keep myself from tearing up as I tried to push the locker away. “Sophia Hess.”

Her hands didn’t move.

“I’m sorry hun could you repeat that?”

“Sophia Hess.” I repeated, louder. My heart thumped in my throat.

Please write it down…

She did.

“And Emma Barnes.”

“What?”

This time the voice was my Dad’s.

“Yeah…” I repeated, looking down. “Don’t know what happened. Just came back one day and she was...different. She just changed on me...Hanging out with Sophia and Madison and she…”

Dad placed his arm around me. But he was stiff, tense like a coil ready to snap. I could feel him trembling.

We were still friends with Alan and Zoe… or at least he was. They still talked every once in a blue moon on the phone. Mr. Barnes would call to catch up, Dad would call for some small advice on dealing with the docks that might have some legalities to get around...Hope I didn’t just break his friendship like mine had been broken with Emma.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because you were busy… Because after Mom I didn’t want to lay this on you… It was my problem, not yours.

I could have said any of these, instead I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It all just seemed so...small now….so stupid.

Miss Washington cleared her throat. “Would these be all of them hun?”

I nodded.

Then, reaching into my pack, I pulled out a fat, leatherbound journal.

“This is…” I swallowed. “Everything I documented… everything that happened.”

I held it out to her, and the weight of the book as it was placed on the desk before her made it feel larger than it should have been.

I felt Dad’s fingers tense at my shoulder and tried not to notice him staring at the book in front of him as though it was his worst enemy.

Ms. Washington reached forward, taking the journal of my own personal hell -my own shame- in hand.Then quietly, she opened it, her eyes darting over the letters, she read quickly as she leafed through it. Her features grew dark and angry. The intensity of her emotions increasing with every passing moment.

Finally, too soon and yet not soon enough, she closed it, eyes shutting as she breathed.

“Alright…” She said after a moment “Miss Militia  and the Director will hear about this the second she gets back I promise. For now, how would you like to meet some of your future teammates?” She smiled; it was a noticeable change of subject. Either to put me at ease again or to dispel the tension. Either way I was grateful.

“Sure.” I said putting forward my best smile, weak though it might be.

“Great.” She led us away from her desk and down the hall.

“The wards have already heard that there was a chance they would get a new teammate; they’ve been somewhat excited at the prospect.” She said,

“Are they all here?” I asked, suddenly anxious at the thought of meeting all the wards at once.

“No, Vista and Kid Win are on base as far as I know, the others are either on patrol or in school.”

I went over their names in my head based on what I’ve heard in the news and from what I have read on Parahumans Online. Not sure how true it was. PHO was only half right at the best of times.

After leaving Miss Washington’s office, we entered the elevator and rode it up to the third floor. We got off and before us was a Tinker-tech door with the word ‘Wards’ engraved on the side vertically.

“I’m sorry Mr. Hebert-” Ms. Washington said suddenly, “-but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait outside.”

Dad raised an eyebrow but he was faster on the uptake than I was. “Oh. Secret identities?”

She nodded. “Yes. While, as their teammate, Taylor is authorized to know should they choose to reveal such, that authorization does not extend to you.”

“I understand.” Dad nodded, looking down at me with a smile. “I’ll just be out here. Go say hi, Kiddo.”

I nodded, nerves again blooming across my stomach.

I shoved that down, taking a deep breath before marching forward.

Miss Washington swiped her keycard next to the door, allowing it to open and we entered. I took my time observing the surrounding area. A kitchen with not one but two fridges. A nice circular couch with a coffee table in the center. A giant TV. And a stairway leading up to a second level overlooking the residence. I noticed how several doors looked different from each other due to stickers and various posters or artwork.

One of the doors opened, and a rather young looking girl, was probably no older than thirteen or so was standing there.

“Hey Miss Washington? Is-” Her eyes lit up all of sudden smiling,.and then...not really sure what happened. One second she’s standing up there, at the top of a dozen stairs, next she’s on the ground floor infront of me.

Vista.

“Yes Missy, this is our new recruit.” Miss Washington looked at me with a smile. “Taylor, I would like to introduce you to Missy Biron, hero name: Vista.”

“Nice to meetcha!” Missy seemed almost too giddy to see me? I smiled back and shook her hand as she held it out.

“Hi...ummm.” I hesitated. I was never any good at this sort of thing.

Luckily Ms. Washington came to my rescue.

“Where’s Christopher?” Miss Washington asked. Christopher? Was that Kid Win?

We heard another door open up top.

“Heard my name, What’s up?” A brown-haired boy around my age, maybe a smidgen younger. Couldn’t tell. He had some headgear around his head with various microscopes, magnifying glasses and...were those holograms?

That has to be Tinker Tech if I have ever seen it.

“Chris! She’s the new recruit joining us!” Missy yelled looking over her shoulder to smile up at him.

“What really? So she decided to join?” Chris walked down the stairs, wiping his hands with a rag of sorts. He pulled off his head gear, the faintly glowing bits winking out as he smiled the holograms of himself winked out as they did.

I held out my hand “Umm… Nice to meet you. Taylor.”

“Oh.” He finished wiping his fingers and reached for my hand. “Chris Gale. Cape name Kid Win.”

“Taylor Hebert. Cape name...no idea.” I felt my blush heating my cheeks. Embarrassment and mortification cut through me.

“Don’t sweat it. Took Vista weeks to get her cape name set in stone. And it can still pass for a normal name to boot.”

“Can’t wait to see what you can do.” Missy's enthusiastic words brought my attention back to her. She smiled. “I got a good feeling about you. You’ll be a great addition to the team.”

I heard Kid Wi-Chris mutter something under his breath. I got the feeling it was definitely not intended for my ears. He looked to the side. “That’s what you said last time and, look how that turned out.”

“I’m sorry, Christopher, what was that?” Hannah spoke up suddenly with a smile...that...didn’t seem kind.

“Oh! Uh, nothing. So, want me to introduce ya to your new room and stuff?” Chris gestured for me to follow. We walked over to the room farthest on the right. I noticed the keycard lock

Vista apparently caught my eye. “Not coded yet. Any of our cards can open it but, that’ll change once you get processed.” She said, pulling free her own key card and swiping it.

The door wooshed open. It was spartan, for now, but I saw the nice Queen size bed. The desk with what looked like the latest in line of computers. A mirror closet and cabinet drawer and-

“Personal bathroom!” Okay, I looked stupid but thank God and Scion combined, I won’t be sharing bathrooms. I have heard horror stories of shared bathrooms in dorms…

“Did you think we shared one?” Missy asked beside me.

I found myself shrugging. “I don’t know… this is… new all round for me.”

Behind us, Hannah cleared her throat. “Now then, I believe we can put off some things until we can finish moving in Taylor properly. With that in mind I believe it’s time we head back to Mr. Hebert to finalize things.”

I nodded, turning and starting to march out. “It was nice meeting you.” I called.

Vista and Kid Win nodded, both smiling. “Nice meeting you Tay.” Vista said, “We’ll chat more when you’re settled.”

Chris offered a wave, picking up his helmet and tools before turning to march back up the stairs.

I walked out of the Wards dorm beside Ms. Washington, finding Dad leaning against the wall. He straightened as he caught sight of us, an expression that may have passed for a smile.

“You good kiddo?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “We’ll have to pack a lot of my things.”

Ms. Washington cleared her throat. “I will call for a moving company to come by your residence when Mr. Hebert gives the go ahead.”

“How bout...Monday morning?” He asked. I was almost stupid. I almost asked why; it wouldn’t take that long to pack but I managed to stick my foot in my mouth in a good way by shutting up.

This was all happening just as fast for him...faster even. The least I could do was give my dad a few more nights before I took half my stuff out.

“Of course. I understand completely.” The woman nodded with her usual smile.

“Uhh, how much for the van if I may ask?” He ventured, clearing his throat.

“It's on us of course. Don’t worry about anything Mr Hebert.” Hannah said softly. “We’ll do all we can to help Taylor feel at home here. She’s one of ours now and we take care of our own.”

I felt warm inside at that statement.

“In any case, I will make the appropriate calls and-” She felt her phone ring and she answered. “This is Washington.”

She seemed...very intent on the phone call. “Okay. Got it. Have her meet me by my office immediately.” She hung up; her face set in hard lines.

What just happened?

“Miss Washington?” I asked curiously. She smiled back at me.

“Just a surprise appointment I need to tend to for Miss Militia ASAP. I’m sorry that I need to cut this short but I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“You’ve done more than enough for us. You just handle your business. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Dad smiled, holding out his hand.

She shook it..

“I’ll be done with my appointment and other matters before long. If you need me, call me on my number. The men will arrive Monday morning Mr. Hebert. Would nine-thirty be alright for you?”

Dad’s nod didn’t come for a moment and when it did, it was a stiff, jerking motion. Like he had to pry his head loose enough with a crowbar to make it happen.

Hannah nodded “Alright-” She gestured “Down the hall, take a right, it will lead you to the public elevators as opposed to the private ones, that’ll lead you straight to the lobby, again I apologize for the abruptness.

Dad waved her off. “Don’t worry Ms. Washington; it’s fine.” She gave another nod and another smile’  and then  marched down the opposite hall.

I looked up at dad. “Well, better head home.” We turned, going down the elevator and marching out the front door. Before long, we were in the parking lot and walking towards the car.

I got inside.

Dad turned on the car and then we were gone.

I turned my head away and looked out towards the city as we rode along the bridge. I felt a hand clasp with my own.

“Thanks for understanding kiddo…” Dad said softly as we looked at each other.

“Of course dad.” I said, smiling as best I could.

He breathed. “And as long as you promise to call me every night before bed. I think I’ll be able to refrain from driving my car through the front door of PHQ.”

“Dad!” I laughed.

“I’m serious.” He grinned. “Every night. And I reserve the right to drive my car through the front door of PHQ anyway if I hear you sprained your ankle or get a cut or something on one of those patrols.”

“Can you at least rent a pickup, or a semi? If you’re gonna drive a car through a door might as well make it a big car. Leave an impression. Our car just isn’t Front door material.” I snarked, a smile tugging at my lips. This… this was good, a reminder of how things were before, so long ago I’d nearly forgotten.

His smile got a little wider. “And no dating superheros.”

“Oh my god.” I shook my head and covered my face with my hands. Was he going there? Really?

“I’m serious. You’re entering a job. Keep things professional. You’re not allowed to date til after you’re married.”

I chortled, a laugh choked in my throat as I swallowed at exactly the wrong time.

“And you just remember I’m a phone call away no matter what happens. Armsmaster himself won’t get in my way.”

“I’d like to see him try to take on that Hebert dockworker rampage.” That made the two of us laugh.

I wonder how mom would feel if she was still alive. Would she approve of me being a hero?

“Wanna do something tonight?” He asked rhetorically.

I smiled back. “Board games? Movie?”

“Let's live dangerously!" He said with absolute seriousness. "We’ll do both! And have unhealthy ice cream while doing it. Cookies too!”

(X)

Changelog:

Here we get into some more substantive changes in events going forward.

First off, changes were made to Taylor and Danny's talk about her joining the wards.

In the original it was more like Taylor had ALREADY DECIDED to join the wards and was talking Danny into it. Here this is more a discussion between two people weighing an option on the table and while she is leaning towards it because she sees no downside after her public trigger burning down a school; she doesn't automatically come in with her decision already made as it happened in the original.

Secondly: we used the oportunity to again reinforce Taylor using this moment and by extension Miss Militia as a way to force herself to try and trust in the system "one more time" to legit come through for her and help her whereas before it was her simply saying "everything" with very little in terms of her own psychology getting in the way, here we now see her fighting her instinct of learned helplessness to put faith in Miss Militia's word.

Thirdly; the Ward meeting was changed; previously Danny met the wards, immediately, Chris was acting supremely OOC from what we know about him and damn near everything about the meeting was basically five OC's wearing familiar faces and names. So that was altered to be a bit more in line with the actual characters and the world they live in. Danny was told to wait outside, Chris was friendly but not nearly so confident and about the only one who stayed "the same" as previously depicted by and large was Vista.

Keeping Miss Washington rather than Miss Militia:

The reason I decided to keep "Miss Washington" as opposed to Miss Militia being the one to meet them is because the original thought process is still, by and large a valid one.

Miss Militia is a tall, athletic Kurdish woman. That's not exactly easy to try and hide.

So she doesn't. Her strategy is to take refuge in Audacity ala Clark Kent. She met with them like this with a different suit, a different demeanor, slightly different voice, and she does this with the other "parents" so that if they ever catch her rushing back to base in an emergency they won't see a tall kurdish woman without a mask and think "Is that Miss Militia?" They'll just think its "Miss Washington rushing to help Militia"

Refuge in Audacity.

Anywho, that's all for now folks. Hope you've enjoyed. More chapters coming in one weeks time (more or less) :)

Chapter Text

1.2

The next day

I waited on the couch, watching the news. Apparently, today was the day I went out to the Power Testing Center, or PTC, to learn what exactly my powers are under the supervision of Protectorate Heroes. Just last night, I managed to meet my other new teammates as well.

Carlos Mendez, Aegis, was the leader of the Wards and looked the part. He seemed like a nice guy, though I’d only seen him for a little bit before heading off to bed.

Dennis Cook was Clockblocker. I’m… not really sure if I liked him. I was trying to keep Winslow from influencing my interactions here, but if he’s gonna start out making fun of me by saying “Hi there, pretty lady” as an introduction, he’s gonna find himself on my personal shit list right next to the trio pretty fast.

Dean Stansfield, Gallant. Now, he looks like the typical handsome pretty boy jock you’d see in high school rom-com. Kinda straight lace though.. 

Brendan Gutierez, cape name Browbeat. Unlike the other Wards,, he was very quiet. Shy even. He said only a few words and only spoke when spoken to. 

When some of the wards were channel surfing, looking for something we could all agree on, they stumbled on an anatomy documentary, and he just went off.  

He vividly explained how the human brain would react to different stimuli as if he was an eccentric college professor. Then he went quiet again. Weird, but I don’t have much room to talk in the strange department.

There was one ward I didn’t get to meet, though. Shadow Stalker. Many of the Wards didn’t seem broken up that she wasn’t there, almost relieved, really. Dean tried to throw in a kind word or two but even I, with my abysmal social skills could tell it was kinda forced.

Dennis cracked jokes about her going off to stalk children to give them nightmares.

From that alone, I was more than aware that she was not exactly loved by her teammates. 

Tolerated in most instances and respected in a select few. But that was about it.

I talked to Miss Militia about it on my phone before I went to sleep, and she said that Shadow Stalker was ‘under review’ of some kind. Couldn’t say what else.

Anyways, today was the day I would be tested on my powers. And hopefully, ( finally) come up with a cape name for myself!

The sound of the door opening made me turn my head and there standing in dark green army fatigues and her American Flag scarf is Miss Militia.

“Good morning Taylor.” Miss Militia waved. I stood up and walked over to her before he could say anything else.

“I’m ready to go!” I said, trying to smile past the flutter of nervousness in my stomach. 

“Right then.” She chuckled. “Come on. Some of the others should be there by now.” She turned.

“Bye Taylor!” Missy called out; a backpack slung over her shoulder. She’d be heading out to school soon.

I waved back smiling before hurrying to follow Miss Militia.

Soon enough, we were on a helicopter.

And I’m not gonna lie… I kinda freaked out. In my head at least. I was getting on a helicopter!!!

After I was done doing little dances in my head and pinching myself for the umpteenth time to make sure it was real, we were strapped in, flying out across the bay towards the repurposed oil rig that was the Protectorate Headquarters here. 

A hand waved in front of my face, drawing my eyes away from the ocean below towards Miss Militia.

“Here.” I heard her shout before she handed me a tablet she was carrying. “Go to the pictures. It’s pictures we collected from Winslow when you triggered. It should give you an understanding of your power in some respects.”

I took it and held it, going to the pictures and going to the album labeled: “Winslow Fire Trigger”. I saw pics and zoomed in on one as we slowly began to land on the platform. My eyes widened. What is that?

“Wait-” I had to shout to be heard over the sound of the engine. “What is-”

“A statue of ash apparently.” Miss Militia commented. “Do you recall making that at all?”

“Not really. I just wanted to get out… I… don’t really know what I was doing.” I admitted, guilty and apologetic in equal measure.

If any place deserved to be burnt down it was Winslow, but if I’d been anywhere else… if anyone outside the bitches three would have gotten hurt

She nodded. “I understand but, it does give us some input to your power.” The helicopter blades began to slow down, and she didn’t need to yell. “If I were to guess right, you are probably a Master given that the statue remained or a Shaker with a lingering effect. Also due to the fire that erupted, a Blaster as well. But we’ll know for sure soon.” She smiled. 

A Master and a Blaster.., so I can cause massive collateral damage and summon freaky looking gangly-armed statues of ash. 

Not exactly heroic.

The helicopter started to touch down before I looked up from the tablet and the pictures therein.

Waiting for us were a few PRT personnel, doctors, soldiers, technicians, but the one that made me gasp was kind of unmistakable.

He was dressed in navy blue armor and a halberd strapped to his back, his helmet blocking the top half of his face.

We stepped off. Miss Militia grabbed my head and kept me ducked down to avoid the rotor blades. 

“Miss Hebert?” Armsmaster asked as we got to speaking distance. looking down at me with an expression that could have been neutral or stern; I couldn’t tell. 

“T-That’s me!” Oh god. 

I had him on my underwear when I was a kid!!! 

“Right. Do you need anything to drink before we begin?” He asked as he turned, walking beside me and Miss Militia to step off the helipad and deeper into the rigg.

“No, I’m oka-”

“Good. Then we can begin immediately. Miss Militia, escort her to the test site.”

Well, that was abrupt! I looked up at the dark-skinned woman.

“He’s always like that. Don’t mind him.” Miss Militia patted my shoulder in assurance. “Not exactly how you imagined him eh?”

“Not really…” I thought he would be more like Miss Militia.

“It's no big deal hun. Just the fact that you managed to drag him out of his Lab shows that he likes you already.” She assured me with her smile.

“Really?”

She nodded, completely sure of her answer. “Last Ward he came out to see for himself was Kid Win. Come on, let's head to the site.” We began walking a separate route from the direction Armsmaster and several men in white lab coats walked. We were heading down via stairs. I sort of felt...alienated in a sense. It was strange to feel that just because I wasn’t gonna be able to show my power to Armsmaster in person. Then again, my power did burn down an entire school so they’re taking precautions. After several long hallways and turns, we were standing infront of a large steel door.

“The testing area is right there. I’ll be up with Armsmaster and the analytics. The testing area is fully mic’ed, so just say anything and we can answer through the intercom.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Got it.” Miss Militia gave me another shoulder squeeze before she walked off, heading to a nearby stairs.

I turned towards the door and took a deep slow breath; feeling my chest expand and stretch before releasing it slowly. 

No pressure. Take it easy.

The door opened, and I walked through.

The testing area was a mix of metal floors and dirt, along with several boulders and scarecrows and humanoid mannequins scattered throughout. I noticed cameras at every corner of the room, along with speakers.

I kept walking till I got to the center of the room, turning around and seeing a long window above and behind me overlooking the room. Must be an observation area.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Miss Militia’s voice came over the speaker. I took another deep breath and turned my face towards them.

Let’s see, how to summon statues and make a lot of fire

“Question?” I raised my hand.

“Yes?” Miss Militia replied over the speaker.

“Ummm- How does a Parahuman use their powers? Like, do they just mentally-”

“A parahuman is capable of bringing out their power in various ways.” Armsmaster interrupted. “You can either remember emotions relating to your trigger event or mentally conjure a picture. Miss Militia for example, started out by recalling the weapon she was most familiar with and then integrating others. Her power works off of memory. Vista, however, works as simply as if she were picking up a hammer, or any tool. She simply has other means available to her brain that lets her spread or shorten the distance. Velocity, at first, worked off of emotion. The need to be faster, to escape even. With practice, he no longer needs such an emotion. But it was his key to open the door if you will.”

I heard papers shuffling.

“Hmm...according to Miss Militia’s report, you have a high probability to fall under a Master or Shaker and Blaster categories. Try to imagine that or utilize your emotions.”

Utilize. He was talking as if my emotions were just things I could turn on and off at a whim. I frowned a bit and held my hands out. 

How to summon those statues

“Umm- Arise statues!” I snapped my fingers. Nothing. I keep imagining the image of those things. Long gangly inhuman arms, wiry hair, no face, upper body only

Okay, nothing still. Oh god, this was so embarrassing!

“Hun, relax.” I heard her laugh before she spoke again. “Everyone does something silly during the test. You’re not the first and certainly not the last.”

I looked up at the window and nodded. Having her around is a major help for this.

“Use your emotions. It’s clear your other methods are inefficient.” Armsmaster droned over the speaker.

Gee thanks. 

I winced a bit at my uncharitable thoughts. This was Armsmaster. And he sure didn’t need to take time out of his day to be here if I was gonna be useless and waste time.

I took a breath. 

Remember.

Use emotions…

Half of me -most of me really- didn’t want to remember, but I pushed on anyway.

It didn’t take much effort to recall it really… the stares and hushed whispers of students talking behind my back. The hurtful words, the smiles of satisfaction as barb after barb was thrown in my face. 

I remembered the faces of the trio.

The smell of my locker. The impact of someone slamming into me, shoving me into that- that filth !

“Taylor, your hands!” Miss Militia’s voice came, and I snapped my eyes open.

My hands were glowing orange.

I stared at them wide eyed, mouth agog..

“Uhh- I, Umm- Help?” I could feel a light heat radiating from them.

“Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.” Armsmaster demanded. There was a grunt, and I could imagine someone said something when he spoke again. “Don’t worry we’re right here ready to step in should it be necessary.

Right, keep going. Use emotions.

Ok Taylor time to feel… or something.

I closed my eyes, trying to think.

Madison’s words...

Sophia throwing me to the ground…

Emma’s fucking smile...

“Taylor!” My eyes snapped open at Miss Militia’s bark, and I looked down at my hands again.

 I jumped and tried to shake out my hands in pure reflex seeing as they were now very much on fire.

But…

No pain! I didn’t feel the scalding burn of fire on my hands, even as I heard the crackle of the flames. Seemed like the others took notice too.

“I’m okay!” I called out, waving towards the window with flame wreathed fingers

“We’re aware.” Armsmaster answered flatly

I gave the window a look and looked at the floor.

I remembered the school again, felt the pain and the anger and the sadness bubble up inside.

And the sound of fire cracking made me look at my hands, and in my hands were two small balls of fire. 

I could even grab it and feel it. The fire felt like nothing, as if I was grabbing a balloon or touching a thin soap bubble. I turned to see one of the training dummies and tossed.

My two fireballs sped out and struck the scarecrow with the speed of a thrown baseball! The fireballs exploded in an orb of flame, blooming across the outer shell of the scarecrow dummy like it’d been soaked in gasoline

“I’m a Blaster!” I said in joy looking at my hands still wreathed in flames. 

“ Our innitial assesment was correct then.” I heard Armsmaster say.

“Can I keep on testing?” I asked, looking at the window. “I wanna see what else I can do with these!.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Miss Militia spoke. 

I gave them a nod and took another deep breath, looking at my flaming hands. Can I make that fireball bigger? I held out my hands in front of me and tried to do it again, this time focussing on size and power.

I heard a cackle of flames and I saw the fireball appear in my hands, much much bigger than the one before. Where the previous fireballs were the size of baseballs or softballs, this was somewhere between a basketball and a small beach ball. I had to move my arms apart to grab hold of it. It was almost weightless, like before.

I twisted my hands and aimed them at another set of dummies. 

It made an even larger explosion this time, the blast radius easily catching the other two dummies beside the center target. 

What I noticed was that while it felt ‘weightless’ to me, it didn’t actually seem to be weightless. It arced in the air like an actual ball fighting against gravity

I stopped, starting to think.

I ignited flame on my hands and waved a flame-hand in front of me. I can make fireballs to throw at targets, but what about when they got close and were right in front of me? I could grab them I guess but that might not be a good idea against strikers like Clock. If they were right in front of me I needed something other than exploding fireballs. The fire might not hurt me but I’d felt the shockwave from those explosions. The last thing I needed was a grenade going off in my face.

Hmm-

My hand rippled with flame as I held it out in front of me, and combustion of fire bloomed out of my fingertips about an inch away from my hand to cover an area about as tall and wide as my upper torso. 

The important difference was that, unlike the fireballs, there was no ‘blast’ here. Just fire. And my fire couldn’t hurt me so that was definitely a viable alternative for anyone who got close.

I hadn’t realized I was grinning until I felt my cheeks start to hurt.

“You’re doing good Taylor. .”

“Indeed.” Armsmaster chimed in. “That begs the question. How do you conjure those ash statues? According to Miss Militia’s report, they were made of ash and crumpled only after dedicated efforts from the PRT cleanup crews who were assigned to remove them”

I looked up. “I don’t know how exactly.”

“Think of something. We’ve set aside most of the morning. Use the ash formed by remains of the immolated training props. It should suffice for testing purposes..”

I shrugged, then walked over towards the burning dummy.

It was still standing, mostly, but it was, burning and ashes were gathering at the foot of it, some still smoldering like cinders.

Staring at the flakes of grey and blackened char, I felt something. Like a… static at the back of my mind.

Squinting, I felt a sharp sudden stab of pain that cut straight across my brain.

Then I knew what to do.

I reached for lack of a better term.

The ashes swirl, whirling through the air, small nudges of my will send them dancing around me.

I smiled.

Like discovering another limb, my mind moved the ash like it would my own arm, and as I focused I realized the static in my mind was the individual flakes of ash, now under my control.

Reaching I plucked one from the mass and brought it closer, seeing the small grey remains spinning quietly before me.

“I see. Perhaps not a Master effect but a Shaker then.” I heard Armsmaster muse drawing my eyes up to the viewing screen. “Are you certain you cannot summon those statues ?”

I shrugged. “Right now I’m not certain of anything about my-”

Suddenly I heard a crack, the static of ash in my mind moved and I felt something hit my elbow. Sheer weight tripped me up before I felt the static of ash move again and my foot catch my tumbling steps with enough strength to stop me outright. 

The burning dummy I’d been standing next to had just toppled over to land on me. It hit the ground with a crack, the flames quickly devouring the remains.

I heard Armsmaster make a sound. “Interesting”  

I blinked, staring up at the window. “What is?”

“Look at your arm Taylor.” Miss Militia called.

I looked at my arm where it’d hit me, 

My right arm was covered in ash, almost like a second skin.

“And your left foot.”

Obediently, my head swiveled around.

Over my ankle, bracing down to my heel, more ash.

My mind went over the last few seconds, blinking as I thought.

Had it… protected me?

 Over the speaker, I could hear a shuffling of chairs.

“Miss Militia?” I called in hesitant concern. “What does this mean?”

“Well-” Miss Militia sounded puzzled. “-your ash moved before you were aware of the danger and acted in a way that helped even if you were unaware it would. Some kind of automatic defense mechanism perhaps? It wouldn’t be the first power that behaves as such.”

“That dummy is made of wood and cast iron. Meant for low-level Brutes. The weight is approximately two hundred pounds.” Armsmaster said. “Its weight and momentum should have caused damage, if not knocked you over. How is your arm, Ms. Hebert?”

“It's fine I guess.” I didn’t even feel a thing. Just as if a twig had fallen on it

“Brute rating?” Someone asked, I’m guessing towards Miss Militia or Armsmaster. Didn’t sound like he was talking to me.

“ If it is; it’s a subset to her shaker ability controlling ash. ” The Tinker answered. “ More testing will be needed.”

“Hmm. Well for now we can settle on Shaker four, threat levels increasing with more ash of course- Brute two, for now, and a Blaster four.” Miss Militia assessed. 

“Hold a moment. Ms. Hebert. How precise is your the control over the ash?”

“I guess it’s pretty precise?” I hedged with a shrug. “Sorry. I don’t really know what I can compare it to.”

“Yes; my mistake. Alright Ms. Hebert, a small test. The dummies still standing, Try smothering the flames on the middle one without affecting the other two; It’s a crude test, but review of the recordings should let me calculate your level of control more easily without needing to spend time here.”

I shrugged. “Sure.” Turning towards the ash, I focused on it. And then, with a nudge of thought, like a hand guiding a paintbrush, I moved the ash as I willed.

The grey debris moved through the air like a school of fish and descended onto the burning middle dummy like a frenzy of piranha.

The dummy’s leg gave out under the pressure, just like the one that bumped into me, it toppled over, brushing next to one of his buddies in the fall but the ash only smothered the flames around its body, neither of the others.

I grinned. 

“Shaker 5.” I heard Armsmaster comment to someone.

Gathering up the ashes from all the dummies so far, I now had a fairly sizable blob. 

“Taylor?” Miss Militia called. 

“I want to try something,” I said.

“Go on then. It’s what you’re here for.” She said kindly.

I nodded.

Another thought, another brush stroke, and the ash was now wrapped around me. Arms, shoulders, chest.

I stepped over towards the nearest “low rate brute” dummy that was not on fire.

The dummy was, as Armsmaster said, a wooden body with a cast-iron skeleton. 

Punching it with my full strength, if I was wrong, was going to hurt .

Hopefully, I’m not wrong.

Cocking back a fist I threw my best punch.

I expected an impact and for my ash to, hopefully, take the brunt of the impact and thus keep me from hurting myself.

What I didn’t expect was for the wood to give off tremendous crack; splinters exploding out of its face before the dummy wobbled and toppled over with a deafening bang.

…

Wait what?

“Hmmm. That is certainly a subset Brute rating based on shaker manipulation.” Armsmaster droned on like he wasn’t surprised.

He should be.

I sure as hell was!

“Tentative rating Shaker six” He updated. “Brute three.”

I should probably pay attention. Though I was a little too busy looking at my fist in shock.

Ms. Hebert”

“O-Oh. Right. Yeah! What’s up?”

“We will have to test your Brute rating durability Please gather as much ash as you can from the practice opponents.”

I nodded, letting the flames do their work for a while longer until each of the dummies and their iron remains were nothing more than grey dust motes.

I gathered it all to myself. 

“Place as much as you can along your right arm then march towards the seat and harness by the right of the room. 

I turned, looked, and found what he was talking about.

Gathering up as much ash as I could I placed it over my flesh, most of it was easy, but I noticed after a point it became… harder. Like my arm was struggling to move. Maybe the mass of ash was getting in the way and preventing movement? Like I had a thick rope tied around my limb or something?

Probably.

“Place your arm into the harness, Ms. Hebert ”

Sitting down I did as he asked. The harness was little more than a small slab where my arm was to rest with some straps I could tighten. Like I was gonna take my blood pressure. It held my arm straight outwards.

“We will begin the standard Brute rating test. Please inform us immediately of any sensation you experience, it is not limited to pain. Any discomfort you experience at all must be informed to prevent your injury.”

I nodded.

Without another word, a small gun of some kind fired a single pellet.

The pellet was small, and it moved slow enough my eyes could almost track it, hitting what may have been my palm beneath the blob of ash.

“Hey,” I said with a raised hand. 

“Yes?”

“Should I maybe drop some of this ash? Like this is as much as I can have on my arm but I can barely move. Maybe I should use a level that might be… I dunno more practical? Something I’d use in the field?”

They didn’t answer for a moment, I’m fairly sure they were discussing it.

“Very well. Drop the ash you find excessive, and we will proceed testing a level you are able to move in and scale upwards once that reaches its natural limit. ”

Makes sense I guess.

The Ash sloughed off, like sand cascading down a mountainside, individual grains hissing as they fell.

I flexed my fingers.

“Alright. Let’s keep going.”

(X)

We stayed in that testing center for what felt like hours .

I’d been shot at, asked to burn down a lot more things, and got hit really hard by a robot.

Though I did get to tear through a concrete wall.

That was pretty fun.

Right now Armsmsater stood in front of me.

“You have perhaps the most versatile powerset I have seen in our current Wards, maybe even amongst the majority of Protectorate Heroes proper along the eastern seaboard not counting Tinkers.” He grunted. His eyes moved towards a pad held in his hand. “Preliminary findings place you as a Shaker seven, liable to increase dependent on the quantity of ash around you, a subset of Brute five, linked directly to your shaker ability, Blaster four. You were unable to summon those ashen statues. So your Master rating is as of yet unconfirmed. Unless further evidence comes to light it may simply be a byproduct of your state of mind during your trigger rather than a true facet of your power.”

I nodded, it made sense. 

Still I really did get a bit of a power lottery, didn’t I?

I’m not really sure what to say in this situation.  I was blushing; shuffling nervously from foot to foot. It wasn’t every day I got praise from one of my childhood heroes. 

“Now, only a few parahuman heroes have such a versatile power set. As such, we will need to begin a training plan as soon as possible in order to familiarize yourself with the various potential applications you might- Yes?

My hand was raised. “Question! Is it possible for those stats of mine to go up? Like, if I train more or gain more experience?”

“It’s possible.” Armsmaster crossed his arms. “Tinkers can increase their rating via more experimentation and resources to work with. For others, it depends on experience. Power is only as good as the person wielding it. More than training or practice, experience and creativity are key. The PRT rating system isn’t a measure of raw power. It is a threat rating first and foremost. Therefore the greater your skill the higher your threat thus the higher your rating.”

“Oh…” I blinked. “So… you’re saying Get Good?”

He grunted and I noticed Miss Militia try to hide a laugh behind a cough. 

Then the woman turned to me, eyes crinkling in a smile. “Are you hurt at all Taylor? Once the adrenaline starts wearing off it’s not uncommon for potential Brutes to give signs of discomfort or lingering injury they hadn’t noticed during the testing.”

I rubbed at my hand, the one that had been used to get shot to test durability.

“I… ahhh.” I hesitated. “Maybe took a hit or two extra I shouldn’t have.” I admitted, letting the ash fall away to reveal a mottled sort of yellowing bruise on my palm.”

Armsmaster reached into a compartment, either to give me something or pull a radio to call it in-

Whatever it was that was about to happen was cut off by a cracking sound, like bones breaking. It made everyone, myself included, jump in fright. I whirled around turning to look over my shoulder

Two arms were sprouting out of the ground, like a freakish night of the living dead parody, the arms clawed and tore at the steel floors, gouging the metal as it pulled more and more of itself upwards.

I saw my off-color, black flames first; then a twisted, mangled upper body of… something. 

I recognized it

The ash statue from the pictures.

But it was… different.

The whisper came in the back of my mind and I knew what the difference was.

It was alive.

What they’d seen at the school was dead, an empty husk. Bone white ash. Pale like a corpse.

This one was not. Black and red like charred flesh. It had no face. Only fire churning within like a furnace, its spindly, too long, too jointed limbs coil around its body as it pulls itself higher.

I hear the whispers.

“Step away from the construct!” Armsmaster barked, and his voice made me jump, scuttling back a step to stand beside him and Militia.

He looked to Militia. “Do you hear that as well?”

She nodded, eyes narrowed. “Yes I…” She paused, squinting. “I can’t understand it though.”

I looked back at the monstrous construct, nervously watching the two Heroes beside me for what they’d do.

Then a flash of yellow can be seen as a ripple of air. 

The statue began to glow orange, almost gold, and a low whine could be heard. The orange glow washed over me. 

I breathed.

It was like soaking into a deep warmth. Beautiful and comforting. Every muscle felt relaxed, every ache and pain I hadn’t even known I had cascaded away from me like warm water washing away the grime of the day.

My palm tingled.

I looked at it. Then stared in something akin to disbelief.

“Guys?” I called out bringing their attention to me. 

I held up my hand toward Miss Militia. 

“My bruise is gone,” I commented, holding out my arms. Miss Militia walked over eyes wide

“Healing?” Armsmaster whispered. For the first time, he sounded something other than bored. 

Healing capes were rare. I knew that for a fact. It’s why Panacea was so famous. 

If I could do something similar- even if it was from a freaky statue…

I looked over at it. It was still there. Still glowing and still very very disquieting looking like a hacked-up burn victim in a Lovecraft novel. 

I took a breath.

It’s my power. I’m safe from my power.

Walking over, I reached up, hesitating before I pulled up the last of my courage and touched in. 

It was ash but… It didn’t feel like it. I felt like I was actually touching flesh.

Freaky.

Armsmaster drew a knife, I looked towards him, watching as the man drew a quick, clean cut with his tinker tech pocket knife across the flesh of his exposed pinky finger. 

Blood welled up.

Then with another pulse, he wiped his finger and the cut was gone.

“Incredible.” He breathed. Then looked at me. “What did you feel when you were healed, Ms. Hebert? Is it perhaps similar to what I’m feeling?” 

I shrugged. “Dunno what you’re feeling, I kinda got a… warm bath. Or maybe warm by the fireplace’ feel?”

He nodded  “I- yes. Yes, that sounds fairly similar. He turned to look at the statue again. 

“It appears.” He pressed a button on his armor again, probably a recording. “That you have some rudimentary healing capabilities. But, this statue is your only way of healing, and it seems to activate in your vicinity when you yourself are aware that you require healing. Though it evidently can affect others..”

“So my ash statues can only come out when I feel like I need them?”

“Or with practice.” He nodded. “If you can learn how to summon them at will, or even better, from a distance, it would make you an invaluable support asset.”

He paused, seemingly thinking.

“I believe it’s appropriate to label you a Master 2.” He finally said. “You can conjure the statues at times of need, but we have no clue on other capabilities they have aside from healing and causing flames.”

Wait what? “Wait, these things can make fires?” I asked in surprise. That caught me by surprise.

“Eyewitnesses at your trigger event claimed that these statues spouted the flames that started the Winslow fire. I was getting ready to destroy the statue before it began to heal you. This is making more sense.” Armsmaster put a hand on his chin. “When you triggered, you had to get out of your locker. So the statues appeared, made the flames as a result of you trying to get out. On that same token, you might have been lashing out at your tormentors, using the flames as a weapon for defense. In this situation, you needed to be healed and thus, the ash statue was conjured and sustained. And as a byproduct this, light, that repairs the body’s cells and relieves fatigue might be what kept you alive”

I nodded. I’d been… avoiding the reports from Winslow. I never wanted to think about Winslow or that locker again. 

“Makes sense,” I said diplomatically before quickly moving to change the subject. “Is there anything else we should test for now?”

(X)

That night

“Whoa!” Dennis was leaning forward, eyes and mouth wide. “That thing looks freaky!”

“You can summon those?” Asked Carlos, or Aegis, looking at the video on the TV screen with a neutral face, but I can tell his eyes looked surprised. “Is it still there?”

“Fell apart into ash when I was away from it. I had to go back and summon another statue, then walk away for the scientists to see how far my range can go. Which was about a quarter of a mile according to them. ” I shrugged as I sat on the couch with my future teammates. “So it’s just a statue of burnt stuff. Not a living breathing thing.”

“Honestly-” Chris mumbled behind me somewhere. “-I kinda want to test the ash that’s making up these statues vs the regular stuff. Maybe when you head out for another test or something I’ll head out with you?”.

Before I could say anything. Dennis, Clockblocker as I knew him, decided to butt in.

“Chris, please. Show some dignity. Trying to get a date with the new girl first day on the job. Shame on you.” He then used his right index finger to rub it against his left index. “Shame shame shame.”

Chris sputtered, and I could almost hear him blushing from his neck to his ears. Either that or I was projecting because I was probably no better. 

Missy laughed while Carlos reached over and smacked Dennis upside the head.

“Hey.” I heard Dennis laugh. “You need to be stricter about this sort of fraternization, oh fearless leader. It’s how Dean and Glory Girl met after all”

“Actually it was at school,” Dean spoke up, sipping a protein shake. “And then we met each other out in the field in costume, not knowing each other until we recognized each other’s voice. THEN we tested together.” He smirked a bit. “And then we got hooked up.”

“More like she just said ‘Okay. Mine now .’ Browbeat mumbled.

“Ohhhhh.” Dennis laughed. “And the Browbeat boy comes in to show how it’s done!”

“That didn’t happen that way,” Dean protested. “I asked her out.”

“Noooo.” Carlos drawled, joining in. “You stuttered and stumbled all over yourself until she ‘suggested’ you take her out to dinner and shopping. And demanded that next time you think of something fun. You acted like a lovesick puppy that first week.”

I smiled, though it was a little strained, unsure if this was crossing a line. I don’t want to become my bullies just to fit in.

“Whipped!” Chris said somewhere behind me.

“Like runaway cattle,” Dennis laughed.

“I am not!”

Dennis gave out a “Pffffttt” and sniggered. 

“At least I have a girlfriend!” Dean defended himself with a huff as he went back to drinking and now sulking.

“Well, I think your powers are cool” Missy, who was sitting next to me, declared. “Besides, the good guys could use a heavy hitter!”

“In all seriousness though, just be careful about your power,” Dean added, looking at me square in the eye. “You can’t really control the flames you emit. Be sure to use the Ash to put out any unnecessary fires in the field. We don’t want to hurt others or cause unnecessary collateral damage.” 

“I’ll keep the fires to a minimum. Maybe even try to carry some ash on me to use.” I replied. “Speaking of, there was a reason, I asked Miss Militia to lend me that video of the test.” I stood up “I want your input on what my cape name should be.” I looked at Dennis and Chris. “And nothing stupid. This is serious.”

With a step and some bent space, Missy was across the room, slipping into her own little cubby hole dorm, and stepping back with a laptop and a beaming smile. “Ready to look up all the used names online!” She grinned.

I smiled and took a deep breath. “Suggestions?”

“Firestarter!” Dennis called

“Taken.” Vista said after a few clicks.

“Okay then...Warlock!” Dennis continued.

“Taken.”

“Burnside,” I suggested.

“Taken by a villain based in Portland, Oregon.”

“Mars!” The call brought my eyes to Brendan with a raised eyebrow. 

He shrugged. “I went after Mars because of the ‘god of war’ angle and ‘red planet’. Can you use flaming ash?” He asked.

I was about to answer but Chris saved me the need. “Taken by a parahuman Hero in Greece. Dead as of three years ago. So maybe you can roll with it?” Chris asked.

“Maybe,” I said with a nod. “Okay moving on. Blackfire?” I suggested.

“Villain in Australia. Confirmed alive.”

“Firemancer?” Carlos put in.

“Hero based in Puerto Rico, or whatever its Spanish equivalent is?”

“Doesn’t have a Spanish equivalent. Must have been a media-given name.” Carlos answered.

“Ashmonger?” I asked

“Too villainy.” Missy put in sticking out her tongue. Dean nodded in agreement.

I huffed “Ashbringer?” 

“You’re making up way too many villain names Taylor.” Dean commented with a quirked eye.

“Taken by a villain based in Germany. Neo-Nazi chick too.” Missy added.

“Sorry sorry, I don’t know. I’m just coming up with stuff off the top of my head.” I took another deep breath.

“Emberscar?” Brendan.

“And then Taylor was Burnscar’s long-lost twin sister.” Dennis snarked.

Chris sniggered, covering his mouth.

“Right. That one’s off the list.” I mumbled.

“Firestorm?” Chris added.

“Taken. Twice actually. Once by a hero and then by his daughter. Daughter’s alive, Hero’s dead.”

“Okay...how about…” I pondered on it, thinking of the right names that go with my fire-making and my ash control.

“Ashburn,” I said, and everyone perked up as Missy typed in her laptop. There was a pause.

“Not taken.” She grinned, looking up at me.

“It does have a nice ring to it” Carlos had a hand around his chin. “I like it.”

“Same here. Makes sense considering your powers of ash and fire.” Dean commented. Brendan just nodded.

I smiled brightly. 

My cape name.

“Ashburn it is."

Chapter Text

1.3

Two days later

School.

Not exactly where I want to be.

I got out of the unmarked car, driven by a PRT agent dressed as a civilian. Carlos was in another car, coming up a few minutes behind us, Chris a few minutes ahead.

In front of me was Arcadia High School, all four stories and two buildings of it. 

For all my excitement of getting out of Winslow and into Arcadia, I couldn’t help but feel dread welling up in my gut. 

Before I triggered, I wanted to get into Arcadia as a no-one. A normal person. A fresh start.

And in a way, I had that but I also didn’t. I’m coming in with a chance to end up running into a bunch of Winslow transfers.

After all; the Winslow students had to go somewhere after I burned down the place.

The biggest fear for the PRT was that Winslow students would suspect. After all; it’s a little hard to keep all information firmly sealed. Where the fire started. What had been found in the ruins… people could find that if they were determined enough. If the word locker came out anywhere that a Winslow student would read it my name would shoot straight to the top of suspects for a fresh trigger.

That had the PRT worried.

And honestly; stupidly, what had me worried was something much more… petty.

I didn’t want to be Winslow’s Taylor Hebert anymore. I didn’t want to be the loner girl. The one that people walked all over, and I couldn’t help but be afraid that’s exactly what would happen again if enough Winslow people showed up and poisoned the well before I’d even had a chance to get a drink.

I knew, intellectually, that Arcadia wasn’t Winslow. And even if I didn’t become popular my teammates wouldn’t… they wouldn’t turn on me like that.

But I never thought Emma would turn on me either. 

And my feelings didn’t care about what my brain was telling them. 

I bit my lower lip, taking a deep breath to start walking up to the main entrance.

Getting close, I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped, turning around immediately to shove Sophia away-

“Hey hey, you okay?” Dean asked, concerned in his eyes. I was wide-eyed, my hands ready to shove and throw his hand off before I forced them down to my sides. 

He looked around, leaning close to whisper. “Your emotions are going haywire right now.”

“It’s nothing!” It's almost a snap.

“It's-” He pauses, and makes sure no one is within earshot. “Your hand.”

My hand is in a fist, trembling at my side. I learned over the weekend that Dean’s emotion-based powers didn’t have an on-off switch- and I’m trying not to feel violated but I very much do.

“I...I triggered at my old school.” I said; he wasn’t surprised. It probably wasn’t a secret. “Coming here is-” I stop. “-it’s not easy.”

I wanted to be someone else. I don’t want to be the same Taylor from before. I don’t want people to know I’ve been bullied. To know I burnt down the school as I was screaming hard enough to tear my own throat inside that locker.

I can hear my own heart pounding beneath my chest like it wants to punch its way free. I’m nervous, trembling under my clothes.

“Woah woah! Hey, relax, nothing is gonna happen. I promise. Most of us are right here with you. You’re with us now ok. We’ve got your back” He nodded..

His words don’t help. I’m half about to ask him to zap me with one of his beams, or that I just wasn’t ready for coming back to school already. Or maybe both. 

“...Taylor?” I look up, Dean is looking at me like I’m about to have an alien burst out of my chest or something.

I force myself to calm down. Taking a single, slow deep breath.

My anger is still there. But the panic is gone. Locked tightly under my will and not a bit of rage.

I give a nod.

Dean doesn’t look happy but he doesn’t push me.

I take the peace offering of a change of subject.

“You have your schedule?” 

I reached into my pocket and looked at my schedule. 8:30 is Algebra A. 9:30 is American History. 10:30 is Biology. 11:30 is lunch… It's an hour and a half long.

An hour is too long for lunch.

I twitch. Almost visibly trying to shake the thoughts away.

1:00 is P.E. And I finish with German at 2:00. I chose German over Spanish, and French. 

Not by any particular aesthetic preferences or anything like that.

Carlos already knew Spanish and Dean was in French. Best to have the most well-rounded team available so if I could help by learning German and making sure no Neo Nazi wannabes were throwing around code words I would do my part. 

Once I get German done, I can tackle Japanese next.

Dean leaned over and looked over my schedule.

“Oh hey. You and I are in Bio at 10:30, same as Victoria and her sister Amy.”

“R-Right.” I nodded.. “I’ll see you at Bio then.” Dean nodded, giving me a thumbs up and a smile.

(X)

It was 10:00, thirty minutes till Biology class. The history teacher apparently had to attend a meeting. Probably something to do with the influx of new students they’d gotten from Winslow. 

I’d already spotted four other people I recognized in the hallways. None of Emma’s Hangers on so far but I really had no idea how long that would last. I finished walking up the flight of stairs to the second floor. I saw some eyes on me. Same as the prior classes because “Hey, who is this girl ?”.

As I marched into the next class I saw Dean wave at me and I walked toward him as he was talking to two more girls. I recognize one instantly. She’s on the news practically every other week. Victoria Dallon. AKA Glory Girl. So I’m guessing the girl next to her is Amy Dallon; Panacea.

They look nothing alike, and those rumors on PHO about Amy being adopted start looking a lot more credible.

“This the new girl Dean?” Asked the blonde, looking me over. Dean smiled and nodded.

“Yup. Taylor Hebert, meet Victoria Dallon,” he gestured to the blonde bombshell. She was the literal opposite of me. She stood up and we were of similar height-wait, she’s taller. Yeah. Oh, wait. She has heels. Ok. Wait heels? Who the hell can walk around in school all day in heels? Her feet should be-

…

Stupid invulnerability.

“And Amy Dallon.” He looked at the other girl, who looked like she would be happy being, quite literally anywhere else. In comparison to her sister, she’s almost mousy looking, with curly, almost frizzy brown hair and freckles.

“Hey” She mumbled, not even looking up from her phone..

“Oh speak up sis, she can’t hear ya!” Victoria beamed smiling almost for the whole world to feel it.

I feel myself smile a bit more as I look at her. Staring at her.

She’s beautiful and-

I feel something come over my mind. 

A shadow. 

It batters away the feeling of awe and adoration that had been building over my thoughts with what feels like acid and hate 

I… What was-

“Vicky. Aura.” Amy drawls from her seat and I see Victoria wince.

“Oh sorry!”

The feeling of… shadows peels back from my thoughts and I find myself blinking somewhat dazedly, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Sorry bout the Aura thing.” Vicky laughs as she extends her hand. “It’s a bit hard to control.”

I nod, reaching over to shake her hand. “Your… aura thing is part of your power?”

She nods. “Yeah. It can scare bad guys and make friendly people friendlier. I try to not use it around school but it's kind of hard.

Scaring bad guys and making people friendlier. 

It affects brains?

That’s…

I repress a shudder, trying to keep a clear head.

I had felt it right? At the start. Then, something happened that pushed it away. Am I immune because of my power somehow? Resistant to things altering my mind?

I’d have to ask Dean to test it later.  

“So, Tay. You from here in the Bay?”

I nodded, focussing on the conversation. “Yeah. Born and raised.”

“Well, same here. Nice to meet ya. You're from Winslow right?”

I looked at Dean with an open glare. Goddamnit. 

No one had to know that! I didn’t want anyone to know that. He raised his arms in a hasty defense. “Hey, I never told them, Vicky guessed.”

The blond nodded smugly. Completely oblivious to my discomfort or choosing to ignore it. “Yup." She leaned down, whispering even though we have the classroom mostly to ourselves.. “So you’re the newbie?”

She can’t be talking about me being new at the school. That was clear and established. And with her being Dean’s girlfriend it's obvious she’s talking about the Wards.

Strange to think that her guessing I’m the new Ward isn’t nearly as distressing to me as her making the easy connection to the now burnt-down Winslow.

“And you’re Glory Girl,” I say back since I genuinely have absolutely nothing better to answer with

She puffs up. If a human could preen she’d probably be doing it. “Yep. Glory Girl in the flesh and she,” she gestured a thumb towards Amy. “Is Panacea.”

I looked at Amy for a second before going back to the superheroine known as Glory Girl. “Well, in any case, it’s nice to meet ummm… colleagues?”

She nodded “You have no idea how glad I was when Dean let it slip that the new Ward member was a girl. Vista needed some other female presence on that team other than Shadow Stalker. That one was just a raging bitch.”

Did no one have anything good to say about Stalker?

“So,” She looked  me dead in the eye. “After school, you down for a late lunch?”

I opened my mouth- 

“Great!” She beamed, like sunlight caught in a bottle. I was almost sad to take the wind out of her sails. 

I fished my phone, and wasn’t that strange, out of my pocket. “I have to double-check and make sure,” I mumbled.

“Oh.” She pouted. Like… actually pouted. Glaring at the phone as if it’s her worst enemy. 

I quickly moved to text Ms. Washington.

Miss W.. What’s my patrol shift? I never got it this morning.

I’m about to open my mouth and the phone vibrates in my hand. That was quick.

You’re with Vista tonight from 8-11. Come to me after school if you have questions. If not, speak to Armsmaster or text him. I’ll send you his number.

“I’m on tonight from 8 to 11.” I answer

“Oh. Well crap. I was gonna go with Dean on his patrol from 5 to 8”

She seemed to be thinking, trying to find a way to square the schedules but after a moment; shrugged. “Ahh well. If we can’t today then no biggie. But we are heading out one of these nights!”

I shrugged. Not really sure what to say. It was weird to have someone so… enthused about taking me somewhere.

And as soon as that thought entered my mind my own paranoia flared up, wondering what her game was. When was she gonna pull the rug out from under me to reveal everything to just be some elaborate prank or something?

“Oh, Ames!” Victoria suddenly whirled around, as though remembering her sister was there. “How bout you come with us to the mall on Saturday? Come on, help me show Taylor around.”

Evidently, I was coming too.

The girl shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t know. Gotta check with the hospital shifts.”

“Sweet it's settled then!”

Victoria I was learning, was not exactly one that was used to being told no…

“Well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I stiffened; my spine going rigid as I turned.

It wasn’t Emma, Sophia or Madison, but a close running contender for a spot on the queen bitch totem pole. Julia.

The Blonde girl smiled, that same winslow smile. “Didn’t think they let rejects in the building.”

“You’re right-” I heard Vicky’s voice and felt my stomach drop.

“So how’s about you walk away before I toss you on your ass!” The blonde stepped up next to me, baring her teeth, and I realized she wasn’t talking to me.

Julia paled, staring at Vicky as if she’d just noticed her. Which was probably the case given that Vicky had been looking back at Amy at that moment “G-glory girl!?”

The blonde sneered then jerked her head. “Start walking or I’m on pest control duty in ten seconds.”

Julia stared, eyes going from me, to Vicky, then back to me before she backed up, turned and practically fled to the other side of the room.

I felt my heart beating in my chest; the thumping hits slowed down as the tension in my muscles eased.

What just happened?

I felt a smack on my shoulder, and I turned to look at Vicky smiling like the sun caught in a bottle. 

“Anybody else from Winslow give ya trouble just let big sis Vicky know. And I’ll straighten em out.”

I felt my mouth opening, staring at Vicky in open shock.

She turned back, chatting at Amy and Dean, not noticing the small personal crisis going on just a foot away from her.

Then the bell rang.

Then I looked to the front of the class the students were filing in. The teacher too. Victoria jumped off the desk she’d been sitting on to take her proper seat.

I heard the teacher say hello to the class and I heard “Well as has been par the course for this last week and probably next week as well, we have several new students joining us.” The man looked at me. “Ms. Hebert, would you care to introduce yourself to the class?” 

(X)

Protectorate Headquarters

The brightest spot of my day was that school went well. 

I’d gotten assigned some assignments different from the other kids in the class in order to catch up on the curriculum. Guess I know what I’ll be doing this weekend when I’m not on patrol. I had fallen behind at Winslow due to the trio’s actions, but I won’t go scraping along this time by the skin of my teeth if I can help it.

And honestly, I would have been happy. Very happy if that’s what my day consisted of. Nothing could go wrong.

What a stupid goddamn thought that had been.

“You can’t be serious.”

Miss Militia blinked at me, staring in open askance as she looked at the… thing in her hands and back to me. “Is there an issue?”

“It’s a body glove !” I’m trying not to shout. Really.

“It’s actually very protective.” She nodded. “We hired Parian for many of the undersuits. They’re knife and small arms resistant. I assure you it will hold up.”

“That’s not-” I cut myself off.

That’s not the point . 

I’m a beanpole, not Narwhal. I don't have the- anything to pull that look off.

Miss Militia, somehow seemed to read my mind, her features softening behind the bandana.

She set the costume down by my bed, stepping closer. “Hey.” She said, and I was looking up at her.

She smiled. “Try it on.” She hedged. “Once everything’s set, if you don’t like it, we’ll work something else out.”

…

Goddamnit why did she have to sound reasonable?

I took a deep breath, releasing it before marching over, grabbing the body glove suit, and then marching towards my bathroom.

About five minutes later, with this… freaking catsuit zipped up I step out, feeling my cheeks burning with something that I can’t quite say is just embarrassment and can’t quite say is as bad as total humiliation.

“I can’t pull off this look.” I bite out through clenched teeth. The facemask hugged my mouth up to the bridge of my nose. 

Miss Militia kindly opens one of the three plastic bins full of ash that had been brought into my room. 

Immediately my will reaches into the grains, pulling them up and free, coating me in them, a layer of armor and protection of every kind.

The second bin opens and the ash begins to take shape.

A third shortly after that and I’m clad head to toe, only my hair is free, cascading down my back through the small opening left for it at the back of my helmet.

I didn’t ever want to hide my hair. It’s the only good feature I have.

Miss Militia kneels in front of me, looking me over and I can just see the hint of a smile in the crease of her cheek.

“The suit is there in case you fall unconscious.” She said kindly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, but better safe than sorry.”

I nodded and looking at the full-length mirror on the side of the room, I felt much less exposed, now dressed in what looked like a full suit of ashen armor, held in place by little more than a dim awareness of my will. Like being aware of the sensation a ring would have on your finger.

I looked closer, subtly shaping the ash to what I wanted. Gauntlets, cuirass, vambraces, pauldrons,chausses, helmet the excess ash was removed, hissing like falling sand before I extended my will to send it into the bin.

By the time it was all said and done I felt…

Beautiful isn’t the right word, not for me. But it looked- good . I stared at myself and I felt good. A warmth bubbled in my chest.

Miss Militia nodded beside me, eyes equally warm. “You look perfect.” She said.

I doubted the image department would agree but.

I looked at her, feeling my lip tilt with the mask. “Thank you,” I said as sincerely as I could.

I don’t want this to become awkward, or slip into me and my ability to stretch a conversation. I clear my throat. “So...what do I do on patrol?” I asked..

“Well, you and Vista have been assigned to a fairly nearby sector of the city.I’ll be patrolling in a sector beside you. That way if you need help I can be there within minutes.”

I tried not to notice that she hadn’t mentioned what to do if she needed help.

“ABB or E88 Territory?”

And on that note it's rather depressing I realize; when you can designate chunks of the city based on what Gang they’re under the control of.

She seems to share that sad smile. “ABB.” She admits. “But far from Lung, or Oni-Lee’s usual haunts in their territory. So nothing should happen. You shouldn’t run into any parahuman villains at all.”

“If I do, I call for back-up and fall back immediately. Otherwise, we can handle it right?”

“According to PRT regulations you should call for Backup no matter what, it's your first night out. Also, remember even though you’re older, Vista has much more experience than you. So you follow her lead. Ok?”

“Yeah. Makes sense.”

She smiles. “Alright. Well; come on let us see what you can do.”

“Okay.” I sighed, moving to follow her. “So, where’s Missy?”

“Probably out in the van waiting for you. I’ll take you there.” We walked together out to the parking garage, and I noticed how the sun was beginning to set.

We got to the van and there waiting for me was Missy dressed in her costume. She’s Vista now..

She caught sight of me, smiling with a wave. “So that’s your costume, Ashburn?”

“Yup.” I nod hopping into the van. 

“Alright,” Miss Militia called. “ Once we head out stay in contact, I’ll be moving through my own route but if something happens-”

“We know we know,” Missy said. “It’s ok Miss. M. We’ve got it.” She gave a thumbs up.

Militia offered a nod, then shut the sliding van door with a slam, tapping it twice.

As the car drove off Vista held out something to me

“We use communicator watches.” She explained, “They tell time, get a read on our position-” Vista pressed the buttons with each function. It showed a digital clock, followed by an analog clock, and then a blue holographic display of Brockton Bay with a blinking white dot and several green ones. “White is your watch. Green is the other watches held by other heroes.”

She pressed a couple of small buttons again. “And this is your heart beat monitor.” Showed a flatline and the typical heart stuff I see at hospitals and their machines. “And here’s communication!” She gave me a watch and I pressed the comm button, colored purple.

“Testing testing,” I spoke. And I heard my voice over Vista’s watch.

“Testing good!” She chirped. I heard it over my watch again.

Tinkers make the best stuff. I feel almost jealous of Armsmaster now

Then- a thought.

“Wait, what about a silence mode? Like, if we’re tracking someone and don’t want to get caught?” I asked curiously.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Vista grinned, pressing the purple button. “Silent Mode Engaged.” The watch’s glowing green screen turned blue. She pressed the comm button again. “Shadowing someone. Need back up. Vista.” She whispered low.

I heard my watch vibrate and look down, seeing the words on my watch.

Shadowing someone. Need back up. Vista

“The device register’s our voice before long. All heroes have watches or ear communicators that they can use as well."

“I could go for an earpiece. When can I?”

She shrugged. “Now. But it's so small it's hard to stuff as many functions in it. Not to mention fiddling with it is much harder without a lot of practice.”

Made sense. I took a deep breath and placed the watch on my left wrist. Thankfully the ash moved at my mental request, and then the gauntlet reformed. I had my right index finger over it, and the ash parted to reveal a watch that was still pristine.

This is… very clean ash. Or my control is just that absolute that I was even removing the residue. 

“Okay. That’s all good and settled.” I looked back at Vista. “So are we going to be out on the streets on the prowl or hanging here in the van until we hear or see trouble.”

“We go roof-hopping.” She stated as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Wait what. I thought that was just in movies!”

She smirks. 

My brain catches up to me. “Oh wait… Your powers.”

She nodded. “Yup. Roof-hoping is totally viable with me. Like, others can do it too without that but it takes practice and isn’t *exactly* the best thing since- you know. The hero parkouring his ass up there is gonna be pretty tired by the time he actually finds a fight.”

Oh… well that’s true I guess.

As the van drives on; I’m jittery as hell. Can’t tell if I’m nervous or excited.

No need to fear. I try to remind myself. 

Vista giggled and we just sat back, riding the van. I drank a bottle of water to hydrate, Pulling the ash away as I accidentally swallowed a bit the first time.

Note to self: ash, even mine, tastes horrible.

My only consolation is that Vista didn’t fare much better as she spat out half her drink up and out of her nose as she tried not to laugh.

We felt the van crawl to a stop.

“We’re here.” Said the agent upfront. Another man opened the door for us as we stepped out in a dingy alley.

“You’re in ABB territory. Good hunting.” Said the agent as he got back into the van and drove away. I turned and saw a fire escape ladder extended down to our level.

“Let’s go.” Vista gestured, space warped in a way that gave me a headache. 

She stepped, I followed and we were suddenly on top of the roof. I could see the glittering skyscrapers of Brockton Bay in the distance. I turned around… and saw the industrial sector, with its low residential neighborhoods in the distance.

“Alright, let's go.” Vista chirped as she began walking along. I followed suit. 

We reached the edge of a building and Vista shortened the distance, once over a dozen feet, to just afoot as we stepped onto the next.

“So… we just walk roof to roof, trying to be on the lookout for anything?” I asked her.

“Pretty much. Aegis and Kid Win have an easier time just flying.So, patrol shifts would rotate between members at times to make it easier. Sometimes one will be on the roofs the other will be on foot. If not, it's  just too impractical.”

That made sense. Eyes up top, and one the streets. We continued roof walking, taking peeks down at the streets below.

“So, what are we looking for?”

“Groups of Asian guys. It sounds racist but that's what the ABB is composed of: They wander out here in packs. Or a suspicious guy, in which case we tail him.” Vista replied. 

I looked down at my watch, and turned on the map, seeing our sector in the district. We’re not too far from the docks. E88 territory. The stretch of George Avenue is the borderline that switched hands so often people couldn’t tell who controlled what there at a given hour of the day. There was my white dot, eight blocks away from the said contested street. 

Vista’s green dot next to me, and a green dot a good few miles away. It had the initial of crossing Assault Rifles.

Miss Militia.

“Miss M is in the area,” I whispered.

“I know. Also, we’re on top of a ten-story building Ash.” Smiled Vista as she looked through the binoculars. “No need for whispering.”

“Oh right,” I said in my normal voice. “Sorry.”

We continued to look out, scanning the streets from our highest vantage point. My head was on a swivel looking for anything odd. The streets were barren save for a few hobos and cars and trucks going through.

Okay, this is starting to get a little boring…

Then, something caught my eye.

“Vista. I see lights.” I was looking to the south, and Vista looked my way. True enough, a small convoy of white vans was driving down the street. Five in number? This late at night?

“I think we got something.” Vista pocketed the binoculars. We crawled away from the edge and went to the edge of the building. From thirty feet to three inches we were on another rooftop, then another and another as we tailed the vans. The Convoy of vans was turning right down the street and towards the warehouses.

We both heard our watches give a ping as we looked down.

“This is Velocity. Informants just squealed. Says our resident dragon has decided to move his stash from the casino.”

“What are we looking at.” It was Miss Militia’s voice.

“Several vans are missing from the casino lot. If we can spot them, we might be able to find out where Lung is holding his fortunes until he can launder the money. They’re white vans by the way. We’re matching license plates with traffic cameras now.”

“This is Ashburn and Vista,” Missy spoke into the watch. “We have five vans down in the factory district matching that description. Say again, are you missing five?”

“Yeah. Hey, Ashburn’s the rookie,, right? You listening in?” Asked Velocity. “Ahh anyway, sorry for not seein’ ya at the base when I could. Almost completely for-.”

“Cut the chatter.” It was Armsmaster. “Vista, Ashburn, proceed with caution. From security camera footage we have reason to believe those vans have at least twelve armed thugs plus they have several hundreds of thousands of dollars minimum in cash.”

“Should we intervene?” I asked.

Miss Militia. “I’m on my way already. Do not engage, observation only.”

“Got it.” I looked at Vista, she was grinning. She gestured, space warped again, she stepped and I followed her, finding myself by a building closer to the trucks. 

We followed the vans until they finally pulled into an alley. We walked slowly as we saw a door leading to a warehouse close. And there were lights inside.

“This is Ashburn. Got a visual on the warehouse.” I whispered as I turned my watch to silent.

Number? Miss Militia

I looked up, but it was too dark to see anything. I approached and ignited my hand to get a better look.

“Warehouse Eight.”

Headed there now.

Vista bent space between us and the windows, letting us peer in from across the street as though we were right next to it.

True enough, all the trucks were inside, and the gang of men and women looked to be all Asian.

I knelt down into my watch. “Confirmed ABB. I got a visual of the trucks.”

Understood. Inbound. Orders to observe the stand. Do not engage. Armsmaster.

I took a breath, turning to look at Vista.

And froze.

Standing there at another rooftop, dressed in a black bodysuit,  a bandoleer belt full of knives and shuriken; and a leering, grinning Demon mask in blood red.

Oh…

Oh shit…

Oh shit !!!

Vista noticed my hesitation and suddenly space *exploded* between us and Oni Lee, I watched him teleporting, flick flickering to swallow the stretched distance much *much* too fast.

Vista’s wrist flew to her mouth. “ Oni-Lee is on sight!” She screamed. “Oni-Lee is on sight! He’s seen us! Break LOS”

I didn’t know what the hell that meant but I followed Vista as she grabbed hold of my hand and took off running as multiple voices howled through the comms 

Disengage! DISENGAGE!

Space bent, twisted, warped, and spun in Vista’s wake and I grew violently nauseous after several rapid shifts in perspective, my mind and body rebelling at the violation to the laws of reality

Oni-Lee didn’t seem to give a shit.

One second me and Vista are elsewhere though still ‘near’ the warehouse where the backup was supposed to show up- and in the next, Lee is right next to us.

“Shit!” Vista screams. 

She lets go of my hand, and the space between all three of us stretches

Either Vista wasn’t fast enough or Oni-lee’s blast is that strong because it hits me like a sledgehammer. The explosion tossed me like a ragdoll until I smashed into the side of a building. 

My ears are ringing, my brain rattled in my skull.

That bastard just tried to kill us.

I stood, a fireball blooming onto my hands and as Lee appeared infront of me, I chucked it at the ninja.

It struck, the dodgeball sized projectile exploding and swallowing him in fire shortly before he collapsed…

Into ash.

I felt something slide against my throat before turning and punching. Another Lee vanished into more ash under the panicked force of my fist.

Did he just try to slit my throat?

I felt more than heard the soft clinking sound of...something. 

Then there are arms wrapped around my waist.

I look down and somewhere in my head I recognize that the little metal band around that finger with the wriggly twisted point sticking out of one side is a grenade pin...

(X)(X)(X)

Changelog: Alright here the changes become significantly more substantive than the previous one.

Previously when this fic was started, knowledge on how Worm and the Wards operate was... limited. IIRC by this point I'd only gotten to 'the bank heist' in terms of where I was while reading canon Worm. So virtually my entire knowledge base regarding them was absent and I also bought into the Fanon that Amy was some poor unfortunate soul with a heart of gold beaten down by the world when the truth is she's kinda closer to a very bitter bitch. Justified or not that IS her personality and so changing her to be this meek and soft spoken nice girl as it was originally simply wasn't gonna fly in this version so she was made to be a bit more dismissive, she has little reason to look at Taylor beyond "Another of vicky's hanger's on" or worse "Another of Dean's hangers on"

So several changes were made here in regards to both the Wards arriving at school, Taylor's thoughts/conflicting emotions in school and her interaction with Vicky. A very notable change was the arrival with Julia, but last time we had a good chunk of Vicky and Taylor's friendship simply "happen" blooming almost to full existence damn near entirely off screen so here the desire is to correct that; ergo her defending Tay from Julia's needling is the first step into that.

Miss Militia's talk with her regarding her costume and Ash was also changed. I'm not really going to specify why because it will be expanded on later but there is a reason.

Then; finally we've got the patrol.

As I said, previously my only experience with Worm by this point was shortly after the bank. Ergo I kinda treated this like "any other hero setting" where the adults are "ok" with letting the kids "have at it" when it comes to engaging in dangerous situations. Buying again into the fanon that "This is Brockton Bay and Wards fight all the time"

So we had the adults treat the kids proposing to engage armed criminals with a laughable amount of carelessness/child endangerment violations. This time the orders were strictly to observe/wait for backup not doing the equivalent of a shrug and saying "meh" you'll be fine.

It's one thing for the kids to get 'ambushed' by Oni-Lee, it's quite another for them to go off and knowingly engage several armed thugs only to "then" get "ambushed" by Oni-Lee.

So that was changed

Chapter Text

1.4

The first thing that came to mind is that somehow, I’m alive.

Second, that everything hurts. My ears were ringing, my skull was pounding and my back felt like it was just battered over and over by a sledgehammer.

Third, it hurts to breathe. My chest was killing me almost as bad as my back...it's worse than the kicks I’d endured once or twice from Sophia the few times she’d gotten physical.

I tried to stand and I felt like my chest had a pot of boiling water poured into it. 

The sharp breath I sucked in through my teeth just made it worse.

Do I...are my ribs broken?

I reach my hand up. I've landed inside something… a security guard booth maybe? Not sure.

My hand plants itself on the desk, pulling myself up. I’m holding my breath as it’s just too painful to keep breathing, I finally manage to stagger to my feet. The world swims around me with vertigo. 

I need help...something. 

Anything.

And I hear the cracking noises. A lot of them. Looking up, I see dark images blurring beside me.

Oni-Lee?

No. That whine, the whispers, and the light.

My ash statues are here again. There are two of them as I half walk, half stumble forward out of the hovel I’d been thrown into with the blast.

Instantly, I begin to feel better. The pain in my chest is gone, the pounding in my head quiets and the burning agony in my back disappears.

I felt and heard the clang of ringing steel at the back of my helmet-covered head. The force of a swung pipe sends me face-first to the ground at the foot of my statues. Instinctively, I lash out with a gout of flame and a scream, half in anger, half in surprised fear.

Lee, this one anyway, went up in flames before he could pull yet another pin, vanishing into more ash.

I stumbled to my feet, searching for more of-

I catch a flash of green on the nearby rooftops.

Vista! 

I turn, rushing to get a line of sight on her past the trucks where I can hear more explosions and the sound of gunfire.

A line of Lees are moving, making a beeline straight towards her even as she warps space to slow him down.

“VISTA!” I scream, forming a fireball as large as I can manage in one hand before chucking it forward

Space twists like a string and suddenly that fireball is intercepting Lee, blasting the teleporter out of the sky as he falls like a lit candle wick. 

The clone crumbles to ash.

The hell does it take to get this guy?

There are footsteps and I turn my head in time to see three ABB gang members round the corner, rifles in hand before they open fire.

The bullets pelt me but their impacts are dull, muted, like wiffle bats hitting me at full force. I can feel them but they hardly hurt. 

I grab the ash from Lee’s clones, pulling it closer, shrouding me, making the cloud move towards them. 

They scream, coughing trying to run even as I make the ash grind against their skin, like sand in a sand storm

My eyes turn back to Vista and Lee.

Vista can’t fly, but she almost doesn’t have to. Single steps carry her onto unreachable perches and space twists to turn what would be a small jump into a skyscraper’s distance. 

Lee is chasing her but whenever he starts closing the distance she’s a hundred miles away.

She can’t kill him, but he can’t touch her either.

I started running, and Vista must’ve been paying attention because with a step through the distortion of her power I’m closer. It’s a warning. She’s telling me to get ready.

Another step, and now I’m right on top of him. One fist to the face lets me feel the crack and snap of bone beneath my knuckles, and see the shattering of that mask a second before he’s flying through the air, already breaking into more ash.

“Damn!” I curse, whirling around with another burst of flame, only to see Lee back flipping away. He lands on one of the van’s hoods, looking at me and I can tell he’s getting frustrated.

I send two fireballs in his direction. Oni Lee dodges to the side but space twists and he has to teleport rapidly to escape both blasts.

Throwing knives are tossed at me mid-jump.

My hands are up as I ignore the little blades, feeling one bounce off my eyebrow, another off my neck. Others I felt against my knees and the inside of my bicep, probably aiming to cut an artery. 

Then Lee appears right in front of me, the pin already pulled.

The ash roils and begins to form a solid wall between us as-

It goes off, and even though the ash was still too spread to absorb the full force, it's still better than the first one. This time I’m only sent flying into crates rather than breaking my ribs

Another Oni Lee appeared in front of me and my ash whips out, lightning-fast and floods the crevices and openings of his mask.

I know it’s lethal to try and suffocate him, but goddamnit I don’t know how else to slow him down! I pull myself out of the crate again and Vista is already shortening the distance for me.

With a front kick, I send him smashing into the van behind him, tipping the damn thing over to crash onto its side. The van is crumpled, and the sliding side door is all but hanging off the frame as Lee shatters like fine porcelain glass, leaving little more than a dirty gray smear on the crumpled surface.

Then I heard a gasp behind some crates.

A gasp… I must have hit the original with my ash before he could teleport!

Both of my hands conjured two beach ball-sized fireballs and flung them at the crates. The explosion sent wood chips, hay, plastic toys, and money flying into the air. I heard a yell and something hit the ground hard enough for me to hear it. I ran over, Oni Lee was gasping for air ripping off his mask to try and suck down an unobstructed breath. He was huddled in a heap against the wall, cradling his ribs, almost in a fetal position. His mask is in his hands as he’s all but hacking up a lung, gagging.

I lunge forward, watching as the parahuman coughed up something red. 

Then there’s the now-familiar sensation of a grenade exploding in my face.

The force sends me flying into a wall of a nearby “motor home” repurposed into an office space. My back and shoulders scream as my body tears through the cheap, thin metal and aluminum..

 I groan. The sound of bones cracking around me reaches my ears. The warmth comes again. 

Creepy faceless statues or not… I love my power right now.

Vista cries out my name as I pull myself up to my feet, seeing the smoldering ruin where Oni Lee had been just a second ago. 

Nothing. He teleported and played possum with his grenades.

I hear movement, and turn to look, finding Oni Lee on a rooftop across from Vista.

I force myself to my feet. “VISTA!” I scream, cocking a fist back.

Again; she’s on the ball. Space twists again and Oni-Lee is directly in front of me. Fist already cocked back I clocked him across the face as hard as I could bursting him into more ash.

I hear Vista curse, rounding towards her as I see Oni-Lee between us, still trying to reach her..

I don’t aim for him .

I take a guess.

The fireball is launched out, and Vista doesn’t bend space this time to try and re-direct it, too busy stretching out the space between her and Lee to get some breathing room.

Lee teleports.

I don’t hit him, not directly.

But the blast doesn’t really care.

Lee is catapulted off the edge of the building, half his side on fire.

I don’t see ash this time.

I hit him. I know I hit him !

The ninja crashes onto the roof of a truck, rolling, trying to pat out the flames.

I pant as I looked at Vista space reasserting itself between us. “You okay!?” I ask.

“Y-Yeah.” She’s breathing hard. I don’t blame her. “Oni Lee?”

I look down. Lee’s gone.

There’s a roar, helicopters are hovering overhead and a searchlight is on us. I didn’t bother looking up. It’s likely PRT backup.

At least...I thought so. Did the ABB have an on-call helicopter?

ABB is rushing out of the warehouse, throwing down weapons and scrambling to escape as PRT and cops start showing up in droves. 

And like that, my first capefight’s over…

(X)

“We surrender. No, hurt us.” I hear one of them plead for the umpteenth time as me and Vista sit by the ambulance. The English of half of these gangsters is broken at best.

I can still hear helicopter blades overhead and the sound of more vans pulling up. I turn, looking around the edge of the ambulance door I’m sitting beside. PRT vans and troops are coming out in force to survey the area and close it off to the public.

“You two okay?” Asked Miss Militia as she finally finishes giving instructions to a few PRT sergeants and police officers, her assault rifle is still in her hands but it's pointed to the ground.

“Yeah, Vista got a little cut up, but nothing, some bandages can’t heal I think.”

Miss Militia sighs in relief. “I’m glad.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Not every day your first patrol draws Oni-Lee.”

“No.” Said a voice. “It doesn’t.” We turn towards the source and see Armsmaster beginning to approach.

Someone else comes around the corner beside him, falling in step. Velocity

“Hey, there rookie.” He smirks, raising a hand in greeting. 

I nod, smiling, then I realize he probably can’t see it behind my mask and helmet. “Yeah. That’s me. 

“Well, from what I hear you made Oni Lee run away with his tail between his legs. Not many Wards can claim they did that. Let alone on their first day. Next rookie’s gonna have to beat the crap out of Lung on day one to match that.” He offered a toothy grin

I blush at the compliment. I’m not used to them really, let alone coming from heroes. “T-Thanks...I mean, we didn’t know that Oni Lee was in the warehouse. We thought it was just some normal thugs.”

“A poor oversight on my part.” It seemed to pain Armsmaster to admit it. “In hindsight, it’s obvious that Lung would have sent Oni Lee to oversee the transfer of one of his primary sources of funds.” He looked my and Vista’s way. “Normally Piggot would chew you out for fighting against another Parahuman, as Wards. Given the extenuating circumstances though, we’ll speak with her in order to soften the blow as much as possible.”

“You mean me and Miss M will go talk to her while you write up a report and hide in your lab.”

The power armored man turns and gives the smirking Velocity a glare.

“I assume patrol’s over?” I ask; we weren’t strictly finished, we still had over a half-hour of our allotted time but…

Come on.

“It is.” Miss Militia chimed in. “Vista’s power is taxing, mentally. It’s rare she hits her limit but Oni-Lee pushed her needing to contend with his teleports for so long.”

“Don’t suppose you can make a freaky healy statue thing that cures headaches?” Vista groaned, rubbing at her temples. 

“I can’t make one. Not consciously anyway. And I’m not sure if it cures headaches. We can check.” I point. “Let’s walk over to one of the ones that came out during the fight and see if they’re still alive ”

“Active .” Armsmaster suddenly barks. “Please do not… suggest that you’re making a living construct.”

Oh. Right. Bad PR and all that .

I nod, and both Vista and I start heading towards the statue I’d left by the broken motor office. 

“Healing statues?” I heard Velocity mutter, and footsteps were soon following. “Hey, wait up. I wanna see this.”

He follows and to my slight surprise, so does Armsmaster after a few words with Miss Militia.

We walk into the warehouse where police are setting up their scenes. Cataloging money, car keys, damage etc etc.

I notice that they’re all giving my statues a wide, wide berth.

Honestly, looking at one now, I can’t  blame them.

It looks like something out of an old biblical tale of hell.

The whispers are not helping either.

“Well, now.” Velocity chimed. “That’s freaky.” He had a hand on his head. “Those whispers coming from that thing, right?”

“There is no discernable Master Effect at play, or any effect beyond whispers reported so far. Read the reports if you please, Velocity” Armsmaster chided.

I ignored him as the statue let out another ripple of light and a keening chime sound. Vista held her hands out.

Vista shudders. “Woah… that feels tingly. My headache went away.”

“Feel better?” I ask her. 

“Yep, a little sore, but I’m good. 

“So, we stick to the same area?” Velocity asks Armsmaster.

“No, you’ll head north. This area will scare away any criminals. Miss Militia will continue to be close by . In any case, I will be heading back to my patrol for now. Vista, Ashburn, head back to base.”

“Got it,” Velocity gave off a mock salute, and if Armsmaster looked offended he didn’t show it as he walked back to his bike. 

“Ashburn, Vista.” He calls as he mounts the bike.

The both of us turn to look at the man. 

“You did well.” He got onto the bike and sped off. 

Thankfully he didn’t notice the pink I had on my cheeks. 

Armsmaster said I did well. On my first patrol!

I pretended not to notice Miss Militia’s eyes crinkling with a clearly amused smile as she looked at me. 

Chapter Text

Interlude: SH/EP/MM

Sophia:

Sophia was not stupid.

She wasn’t a nerd. But she could put two and two fucking together right quick.

Winslow burned down.

Winslow burned down and the fire had started in the east side of the building.

The flames were the wrong color. The sprinklers hadn’t even slowed them down.Sophia had slipped through in her breaker state and seen the writhing, whispering thing outside of Hebert’s locker.

She wasn’t an idiot.

Hebert had triggered.

Hebert had triggered inside the locker.

Of course, that weak little shit would have a trigger over a worthless prank.

It didn’t take her long to get into full damage control mode.

She deleted all her texts from her phone, told Emma to do the same, and had Emma delete everything on her end towards Madison. She purged her computer of old emails, and damn near, everyone that had a single hand in giving their tampons for the locker was told in no uncertain terms that they’d be on the hook too if they squealed.

It was a threat that she couldn’t back up if everything hit the fan, but best to try and head shit off.

Luckily, fucking Hebert took three days to ‘get past the trauma’ and talk.

Trauma.

Right.

Fucking drama queen.

Sophia had almost convinced herself the little shit wouldn’t talk. But when she walked in and found Militia, or Washington as she called herself when she didn’t have the bandana- Sophia damn well knew Hebert had told the woman exactly who shoved her into that locker.

Sophia had come in with a plan, a general plan. Dodge, deflect, diminish, distract. But looking at Militia she suddenly felt pissing the woman off any further was… a bad idea.

Miss Militia was one of the few people around here Stalker would admit really hold her place on the food chain. Even more than Armsmaster.

Sure. She didn’t have Tinkertech.

But she didn’t need it.

The woman had fought capes as little more than a glorified PRT trooper. Against people who she shouldn’t be in the same weight class as her.

And she’d won. Repeatedly.

And that alone said a lot.

So when that woman is staring you down with all the wrath and rage you’d ever seen on her face and a very distinct green fountain pen in her hand- the idea of lying seems suddenly less appealing.

But less appealing or not. The truth was worse.

Sophia had no intention of going back to Juvie because of fucking Hebert.

(X)(X)(X)

It didn’t take very long for her to be dragged into the Director’s office.

Well, Not very long by Miss Piggy’s standards

Usually getting the fat bitch to give Wards the time of day was like pulling teeth.

Joy of joys. She got bumped up on the priority list.

She sat down in the office, the sneer just about curling her lip. Piggot was rifling through a stack of papers in front of her, her face pinched like she’d smelt her own farts, as usual.

Armsmaster was by her side, Sophia heard the door open to reveal Miss Militia marching into the room.

The teenager dared a look at the woman out of the corner of her eye.

Hands clasped behind her back, parade rest position, eyes straight forward but sharp and cold as icy knives.

Yup. Still pissed.

Sophia settled her unease. Confident in the fact that she was still alright here. She could still survive this. She was more useful than whatever fucking fire Hebert could make. Fire blasters were a dime a dozen.

So she sat there, waiting for Piggot to keep rifling through the papers.

Finally; after what may have been minutes but sure as shit felt like fucking hours Miss Piggy tossed the folder and its stack of pages on the desk with a heavy thump.

“You know what this is?” Piggot demanded.

Sophia shrugged; swallowing down the urge to answer something like ‘The bill for pulling that stick outa your ass’ Or some other equally amusing comment.

“It’s a record.” The director stated with quiet venom. “A log- of every recorded incident we could get our hands on regarding your protracted bullying campaign against one Taylor Anne Hebert.”

Sophia stiffened, eyes darting over the stack.

A record? Shit… had Blackwell actually been keeping logs? Had she made some up? That stack wasn’t small. How fucking long had she been writing shit down?

Piggot let the silence drag on and Sophia said the first thing that came to mind.

“Where’s my social worker?” She demanded. “She should be here if you’re gonna be talkin shit.”

“Your social worker-” Piggot hissed. “Is marching out the door with a pink slip and a court order not to leave Brockton Bay until we conclude our investigation. If everything comes up clean then she’ll be reinstated.” Her hand moved, hovering over the stack before her finger flicked it twice, cracking over the pages; Hard.

“I can assure you Miss Hess; You won’t be so lucky as to get someone quite so enabling again if you insist on having a fresh social worker dragged out here for this.

Shit…

Again, silence fell over them and Sophia tried not to squirm in her seat.

“As of this morning, you were on probation.” The Director said. “As of right this second you’ve earned the moniker of parole. Armsmaster.”

The Tinker stepped forward, and in his hand was a small, tinker tech band.

“You have a choice,” Piggot growled. “You can choose to go to Juvenile detention, Miss Hess. No great loss I assure you.”

Sophia snarled, wishing, not for the first time she could lunge across the desk and punch this smug useless bitch in the face.

“Or you slap on that armband.” She demanded. “You will be free, nominally. You will go home. You will study. Your handler will report your every movement and every interaction directly to me. Everything you do will be watched, every spare second accounted for. If you deviate from acceptable locations. The band will track it and we’ll know. In which case, I toss your ass in Juvie. If the tracker detects a single broadhead bolt anywhere near your body, it will report it and I’ll toss your ass straight to juvie. If you step a single toe out of line from this day onward because you put on the wrong shoe size- I will know and-”

“You toss my ass in juvie.”

“So you can learn.”

Sophia was adding kicks with steel-toed boots straight to the woman’s jaw to her personal fantasy.

The Director sneered, and her expression was a distorted picture of pure disgust. “You’ve gotten away with a lot Hess. That is over as of today, and until I’m convinced you are a model fucking citizen. You are officially on my shit list. And the only reason I’m not tossing your ass into juvie to get you out of my sight is purely on Armsmaster’s recommendation.”

Her eyes darted towards the Tinker, who remained implacable and impassive, still holding out her wristband.

Piggot settled in her seat. “So.” She said, “Make your choice.”

As if she’d had one at all.

Emily Piggot

Watching Sophia march out of the room, wristband in hand under escort from two guards, Emily Piggot felt herself seethe. Wondering if she was making a mistake.

Another mistake.

Emily didn’t like capes. She could admit that. And she particularly hated capes who abused their power. Hess fit that definition to a T.

She understood the logic, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Armsmaster cleared his throat as the door closed, turning to look at her. As he opened his mouth to speak- someone else spoke ahead of him.

“I object to this.”

Emily closed her eyes, refraining from releasing a sigh of what was likely aggravation.

“You’ve said so already Miss Militia.” She began.

“I’m repeating it.” The woman spoke over her, still staring straight at a spot on the wall, hands clasped behind her back. Emily was sure they’d be curled into fists if she could see them.

“The evidence collected by Miss Hebert cannot be corroborated. It is pure hears-”

Armsmaster’s statement was interrupted, and the glare Miss Militia shot at the man as her weapon rapidly flick-flickered at her side spoke to a much greater rage buried there than mere professional objection.

“Unlike you, I’ve spoken with Hebert!” The Kurdish woman’s voice was a quiet, accusatory hiss. “She’s not lying.”

“... Miss Militia given your involvement so far in this case, your ob-”

“I notice you’re not eager to test your lie detector either.” She cut him off again and she turned that baleful glare onto Emily.

“I also didn’t hear you ask if it was true.”

In Emily’s experience, it was as close to insubordination as Militia had ever come during her long, long tenure as the PRT director, and she had to curse herself, internally, for having underestimated how much Militia was being affected by this Hebert girl.

“It is only 80% accurate.” Emily very much wanted to demand Armsmaster shut up and stop digging his own grave here.

“And since when has that stopped you?”

“Enough!”

Emily didn’t shout, not really, but her voice carried, cracking like a whip in the air.

She breathed. “I understand your frustration Miss Militia, but there are threats in the bay Stalker’s breaker ability allows us to potentially counter if it becomes strictly necessary. You know we can’t afford to lose her. Not really.”

“We can’t afford to keep her.”

“With the increased level of scrutiny and surveillance, she will not be capable of proceeding as she has been. There will not be another victim.” Armsmaster said, lips thinning as his frowning mouth pressed them together. “It’s unfortunate, but the Brockton Bay Protectorate simply is not enough to police the whole city. Ward support is vital in that effort. If this is reported- if it gets out our ability to operate will be severely hamstrung.”

Militia’s answer was another glare.

Emily didn’t disagree with the man, but she knew him well enough to know his real motives. Militia did too and that was no doubt adding to her ire.

The Wards were Armsmaster’s responsibility, nominally. It didn’t matter that Militia was the one who interacted with their charges the most, or that Emily had taken direct command of the Wards herself months ago. This… failure- regarding Hess, it would reflect poorly on him.

If the opposite were true then Emily had little doubt his recommendation would have been exactly the opposite of what it had been regardless of Sophia’s potential usefulness in simulations in tranquing a ramped-up Lung, Hookwolf, or Kaiser.

“Have you read it?” Militia suddenly asked.

Colin turned, staring at her with a questioning frown.

Miss Militia gestured to the stack of printed pages on Emily’s desk.

“Have you read any of it?” She asked… though; accused might be more accurate.

“I have not had the time-”

“Of course-” And that was an accusation. “I have.” She continued. “I looked at every page. It’s not getting out of my memory any time soon.”

For once, Armsmaster had the good sense to shut the hell up.

“This was protracted, deliberate, systemic, abuse.” She hissed.

“None of it can be verifi-”

“And you’re covering for it!”

Militia’s sudden scream of outrage swallowed the room. And Emily was happy her office walls were soundproofed.

Colin averted his gaze. “Hess won’t get away with this behavior again.”

“And I suppose that means her getting away with it now is acceptable.” Militia’s eyes turned from him to her. “I promised that girl we would do right by her!”

Colin stared resolutely ahead. Not bothering to meet Militia’s gaze, or perhaps not having the stomach for it. “I will personally make certain Hebert and Sophia are never on the base premises together. And I will make certain Sophia never approaches Hebert in or out of costume. For all intents and purposes, as far as Hebert is concerned, Sophia Hess will be going to Juvenile detention. Principal Blackwell is being investigated as we speak and Hess’ Handler has both been terminated and is liable for her own criminal charges depending on the results of the investigation. Ms. Clements and Ms. Barnes are being tried to the fullest extent of the law. We have done right by her.''

The checklist of prosecutions did not diminish the accusatory heat in Militia’s glare.

Piggot allowed herself another deep, slow breath.

Part of her wished to revoke the offer towards Hess; She certainly wouldn’t mind tossing the entitled little shit in a cell for a good few years.

But she had to look at the bigger picture… Revoking it now would not quiet the discontent here. Militia would be mollified but still angry that they’d needed to be convinced. And Armsmaster’s fragile ego would take a hit alongside his reputation if she backed out, and if the investigation reached enough desks that Armsmaster was benched…

No… too much of a risk.

“We can’t afford to lose any capes on our side.” She wouldn’t insult either herself or them by calling Hess a ‘Hero.’

Miss Militia stared at her for a long moment.

Then her hand moved forward, fingers hovering over the stack of pages before flicking it twice with one finger in two heavy thumps as Piggot had done earlier.

“Is she?”

Piggot couldn’t refute the point.

“You’re both dismissed.” She said,

Hannah

Hannah was a good soldier. Always.

It wasn’t the first time she received orders she didn’t agree with, It likely wouldn’t be the last.

She kept trying to find her calm, her center, that little voice in the back of her mind that told her to find the logic in the command, that bit of faith that told her she was part of something bigger. And that something couldn’t always spare its consideration for what she cared about, what she prioritized.

She knew herself well enough to admit she was emotionally compromised here. What Armsmaster said, what Piggot said- It made sense. She understood she just didn’t care.

She’d made Taylor a promise. More than that, the sheer naked relief in the girl. The emotion she saw in her was nearly on the brink of tears when she realized that Hannah would make things right. That Hannah believed her at all…

Yes. Militia could recognize that she was close to this.

That didn’t mean she was wrong.

Hess, Clements, Barnes. Even beyond the trigger event had damaged Taylor.

She didn’t have to be an expert to see how Taylor kept looking at her prospective teammates, waiting for the next shoe to drop. For the nice words to suddenly turn into biting barbs. And she didn’t have to be an expert to see how uncomfortable Taylor was in her own skin, how inadequate she felt in her appearance.

The journal flashed through her mind. Individual days pile up one after the other. Insults, shoves, spitballs, pranks. Not always by the same person. Not even all by the three main perpetrators.

They took breaks. They entertained themselves elsewhere some days. But for Hebert, it was an unremitting, never-ending abuse.

Militia didn’t know where the girl found her relief, where she found the place to vent. Home was her best guess, but given her father’s demonstrated ignorance of her bullying, she doubted it had been with him. Given her unease around other people, it was unlikely she’d made friends outside of school.

Now here Militia sat. Being asked to keep quiet. To all but shield Sophia. Someone who had lied to her face, abused the trust and confidence Hannah herself had placed in her- all the while she’d been doing this behind their backs. Or worse, right under their noses and laughing about it.

And what would she have to do now? Going forward with Taylor? Lie to her. Sell the image. Make her feel welcome. But as far as her superiors were concerned, not because the girl needed it after feeling isolated for so long. Not because it’s what’s best for her but because it would be good for the PRT to have a good, loyal Ward.

One that they were lying to and she was part of it!

…

No. Miss Militia wasn’t foolish enough to pretend she wasn’t too close to this case.

She sat in her office long after the meeting was over. The two sides of her mind raging quietly, fighting a war in her head between the good soldier and the woman who wanted to do the right thing.

After a long time, her fingers quietly began clicking on the keyboard of her computer.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

Arc 2: Embers

2.1

“I’m an idiot.”

The tone of my voice, more than the words themselves, was enough to draw out a laugh from Carlos, making him struggle to keep all his food in his mouth.

“There, there.” He mocked, laughing even more as I looked up at him with my best possible glare.

He smiled.

“It took Chris almost a month before he figured it out. Hell, Dennis knew it early on, then he got confused again about it… how that happened I don’t really know. But he managed. Even got so paranoid he started checking on Armsmaster’s civilian ID.” He consoled.

“I might have beaten his record if I didn’t just stumble onto her with only half the getup on.” I growled.

“I don’t doubt it. You did seem pretty clueless.”

“What’s up with you guys?”

I turned my head around to see Victoria marching up behind me, eyebrow hiked up to her hairline as she looked at the two of us. The others mustn't be far behind in getting out of class if she’s already here.

“Taylor is currently beating herself over the head because she finally found out how Miss Washington is actually a pro bowler.” Carlos smiled.

Vicky looked confused for a moment before she smirked. “Oh. She’s still pulling off that prank?”

“She doesn’t prank,” Carlos clarified, “She just likes to see how long it takes before someone catches her at the lanes.”

“Where I’m from, that’s called a prank.” Victoria replied flatly before turning to me “Don’t worry, Dean told me it took Chris almost a month.” She said, trying to make me feel better.

“The worst part is it's just so… so obvious now!” I bemoaned. “I mean, urgh!” My head thunked on the table.

Vicky chuckled, then leaned forward to whisper, even though she, Carlos, and I were almost alone in the cafeteria lunchroom. “So is what I’m hearing true? You went and beat the shit out of ninja boy last friday?”

I wasn’t used to being the center of attention. I don’t like being the center of attention. Too many bad memories associated with Winslow. “Me and Vista.” It was the best I could come up with.

“Nice! Me and Crystal tangled with him once; bastard was a major pain to try and pin down. Did he try blowing you up too?”

“He tried that with you?” I asked. Trying to use a grenade on Alexandria 2.0 seemed absurdly stupid, even as a potential distraction.

“Nah with Crystal. He knew better than to try that with me. He was hoping she’d get injured and I’d have to back off but she knows how to handle herself. So are you an Alexandria package too?” She asked. “Dean never got too specific about what you could do-”

“Which he shouldn’t.” Carlos reminded her sharply. “The Protectorate and New Wave might cooperate, but-”

“Oh puh-lease,” Vicky waved him off, rolling her eyes. “If I don’t find out through just going on patrol with you guys I just need five minutes on PHO once they get word of her.”

“I’m on PHO?!” My voice, thankfully, came out as a squeak rather than a shrill shriek. I doubted half the school wouldn’t have heard me, nearly empty cafeteria room or not.

“Dunno. Anyway-,” She rounded on me, eyes sparkling as though she just caught sight of a new curiosity. Infact, that was probably very very accurate. “Tell me all about it!”

Thankfully I was saved as Vicky’s head rose up to look above my own. “Amy!”

She, having no secret identity to worry about, flew right up, over my head and grabbed Amy in a hug as the brunette exited the school doorway. “I thought you were gonna be in the hospital again today.”

“Can’t miss more classes.” The Brunette smiled hugging her sister back.

“Hey Victoria!” Some other girls came in through the double door entrance, marching through the lunch courtyard like they were on a mission, brandishing their phones like weapons.

“Hey, who’s the new cape in the Wards?”

Oh… Oh god why?

If either girl had enough of an attention span to look at my face, my ID would be shot right there.

Victoria turned and looked at the photo displayed on the screen. “Hmm… Dunno, never seen her before.”

“That’s a girl?” One asked, squinting into her phone.

Carlos choked on his meal. And I was suddenly fighting down the urge to punch something. Namely him.

“Of course it's a girl! Armor or not, that's a woman’s waistline!” Girl B pointed out to Girl A who had pegged me as a guy.

“You think she binds her breasts to keep them so flat?”

“Or maybe she’s just flat altogether? Poor girl needs some estrogen in her.”

Carlos gave an absurdly loud ‘sneeze’ to cover up the laugh that was just caught behind his teeth.

My frown was very very real.

It's not Winslow but listening to them talking about ‘me’ like I’m not here hits far closer to home than I’d like, even if there is no active malice behind it.

Also…I know I don’t have the best figure but goddamnit I don’t look like a boy!

“Yeah well I don’t know who it is.” Victoria answered. “Maybe you should check PHO.”

“They’re clueless too, at least in the thread that I found. “

“There’s a thread!?”

That came from me. A startled, half strangled squeak I barely recognized. The thought of there being a thread was enough to jar me out of the quasi-depressed funk I was sinking into. It also brought the girls' eyes straight to me.

“Yeah! Duh. There was a sighting Friday night of this girl. They posted it on saturday. How much longer do you think it would take?”

A week, a month, Forever maybe? Hopefully?

“Social media moves like clockwork.” Girl A said. “Here, lemme get the thread on my phone…”

Great Taylor. Just...calm down…

“Here we go. New Ward Spotted.” Girl A showed me the thread’s opening post, and the picture of me walking with Vista across rooftops. The picture was grainy, distant, but certainly had enough detail to tell it wasn’t any of the usual suspects in either the Wards or the Protectorate.

“I’ll check it out later,” I said, letting the girl keep her phone. I could almost feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat.

I noticed Carlos was on his phone a second before he pocketed it. Victoria and her friends chatted up a storm, I felt my phone vibrate.

Capt says you need to escape till lunch ends? Chris

I looked at Carlos and he offered me a sympathetic smile and I returned it with gratitude.

“I’m gonna go get some lunch right now,” I said standing up. “I’ll see you later.” I declared loud enough to not seem like I was hoping that they wouldn’t hear me. But not quite enough to fulfill my goal evidently.

“Fugly Bob’s at 5.” Victoria pointed my way and clicked her tongue. “And I KNOW you’re free Taylor~.”

How would she even…

God-dammit Dean!

(X)

School came and went as usual, and now I’m riding in the back of Victoria’s convertible with Amy and Dean.

While Dean and Victoria were chatting upfront, I was looking down at my phone at the mobile version of PHO, and I got to the forum titled “New Ward Spotted outside my apartment!” by CuteyRuby20 And I saw the picture and I began to read the description.

“So I wake up last night to go to the bathroom, then on the way back I see people moving out the window some rooftops over. I look out and I see Wards! One of them’s Vista. But here’ there’s a whole new face! Couldn’t tell if it was a guy or a girl. But I think its a girl.

My eye twitched and my urge to kick something was rising.

“Either way, we got a new cool looking hero on deck! 

What do you all think? Or are you here on PHO now New Ward?

RealJPlaya: She’s decked in some gray looking armor. Tinker, Changer or Brute maybe?

Da-impy1: Oh boy, please let it be a boy who looks like girl please please please.

ForDaH0rd3: That armor of hers doesn’t look metallic. More...gravely? Is that Fiberglass or something? Dirt? Tinker-Tech? Do we have another Mush that puts garbage and junk on herself? Himself? I’m so confused!

Dodger12: My dad works for the PRT and he told me heard the new Ward chased off ABB’s Oni-Lee!

Pablel94: Pics or GTFO.

Reinbeau1229: Isn’t Oni Lee that suicide bomber who doesn’t suicide when he should suicide?

Tin Mother: Oni Lee makes clones of himself and has possession of countless lethal weapons. Said clones can be used as suicide bombers yes.

FreddyTheYeti: So this new Ward can handle that and whatever else the ABB send out? I’m guessing Brute here.

CuteyRuby20: He’s sexy damnit! I reject your reality and substitute my own!

Reinbeau1229: Oh. So does this mean she’s on Lung’s shit list?”

FreddyTheYeti: I...don’t think it works like that Cutey…

SilencioDeGrave: I bet the Simurgh did it. She ALWAYS did it. 

“Hey.” Victoria’s voice brought my eyes up to the front of the car. I realized she wasn’t exactly talking to me when she looked at Dean beside her. I wish she’d keep her eyes on the road.

Her next words brought my mind to a screeching halt. “When are you guys gonna do a press release for Taylor?”

“A few more weeks probably.” He answered, utterly blase about this horrifying thing that Glory Girl seemed to be pulling out of thin air.

What press release?!

I never said...No one ever said anything about a press release!

“They probably want to distance her as much as possible with the Winslow fire to keep people from making connections.”

“Kinda hard now with that PHO post.” Victoria snickered.

“What Press relea-gah!?”

The red car made an absurdly sharp turn that had me sliding into Amy.

“Vicky! Don’t drive like we’re all Brutes.” The brunette called.

“Okay Sis! What was that Tay?”

“What press release!?” I repeated, trying not to shout, my hand reaching to grasp the back of her seat like claws. “No one said anything about this!”

She looked clear over her shoulder at me. Still driving! “They have to tell people there’s a new Ward Tay. What’d you think was gonna happen!?”

“Nothing!” I answered truthfully, almost frantically! “I...I’m not...Does this mean I have to be in front of a camera!”

The thought was almost enough to make me nauseous.

I heard a laugh behind me and turned to see Amy chortling. “You-You look like-Your face is just priceless!”

“This isn’t funny!”

But evidently, I was wrong, Because Victoria is soon joining in.

I try not to get angry; I do, but the familiarity of Winslow starts creeping back, and it's easier to be angry than dismayed.

“It’s ok Tay.” Vicky says after a few seconds. “All the Wards go through it. You walk up. Say some lines, and wave at the camera. It’s over. No biggie.”

We reach the boardwalk parking area, with Vicky finding a spot like it was waiting for her, pulling in smoothly.

“Hey guys,” Dean says quickly. “Head inside real quick. Now that the cats out of the bag I should take a minute to tell Taylor about some of the specifics of the press release before Piggot and Armsmaster just dump it on her like a sack of bricks.”

“Kay.” Victoria announced as she finished parking and yanked the keys out of the ignition. “Come on Ames.”

New Wave’s most famous members slide on out of the car; leaving me there with Dean who turns to look at me with a concern in his eyes that only makes my anger spike.

“They weren’t making fun of you.” He says quietly.

“I know,” I answer. “I’m not made of glass Dean.”

He held up his hands placatingly. “I never said you were but… would you like to talk about it? It may help.”

I shrug, trying to fight down my roiling emotions. “I have hang ups.” I answered succinctly. “I’ll get over them.

I didn’t want to talk about Winslow. Didn’t want to talk about Madison, Sophia or Emma.

Especially not Emma.

Trust wasn’t easy for me to give...not to anyone...when I felt that they’d been laughing at me...that they were taking delight in what was bothering me...I’d…

“Its…” I shut up.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, I understand.” He said quietly. “We’ve only known eachother for so long. But you can’t just keep it bottled up, or hiding it behind your powers. We all need to talk it over at some point.”

I nodded. I knew he was right. I should talk to someone...just not him. Any of them.

They didn’t have to know. None of them had to know about Winslow.

“I’ll be fine.” I whispered, then I opened the door and got out.

…

“Sorry for bringing the mood down…”

“Don’t apologize.” Dean answered resolutely. “You have every right, everyone has their baggage from the trigger. Things that take us a while to get over.”

I nodded, moving to follow him after a bit.

As we entered the door, the mood lightened up. Looking around, I saw Amy sitting at a booth, probably reserving our table, and Victoria was waving her arms while standing in line to order.

“Hey!” We walked towards her outside the line. “I know what to get for Dean here. Taylor, what do you want?”

“It’s my first time coming here. Mind if I join you in line to look at the menue?”

“Course not. Come on.” I stepped in next to her, and I heard the young African-American girl behind me grumble a bit while looking on her phone. I gave a mental apology at kinda sorta cutting in line when it was so unbearably long.

“Okay, Fugly’s does burgers, hotdogs, shakes, Mexican foods, and salads. What’re you up for?” Victoria asked.

“A burger, I guess,” I mumbled, squinting to get a look at the burger menu hanging over the left side of the counter.

There was a poke at my shoulder,

I turned, looking at the girl behind me.

“Totally go for their spicy cheese fries.” She said with an impish sort of smile.

“Uhhh. Thanks?” I said, looking at Vicky.

The blonde shrugged, holding out her hand. “Hey there. Vicky..”

The girl smirked, darting her own hand out to shake Vicky’s as she put her phone away. “I’m Aisha, nice ta meetcha.”

She shook my hand, and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as her smile got just a bit wider.

“So hey, You’re GG right?” She said, looking at Vicky. “Got any info on the shiny new Ward?”

Her smile was all teeth.

(X)(X)(X)

Over the entirety of the day and… possibly the next several days I was left wondering if Aisha knew.

If she’d somehow figured out who I was.

It always came back to Winslow.

Aisha had just started Winslow shortly before I burnt it down. Two grades below me we’d hardly interacted but I was ‘famous’ enough for word to get around on who not to hang out with.

She might recognize me.

She may have figured it out.

Oh she’d never said it but I couldn’t help but feel those smiles were a bit too wide and those side eyes too frequent while chatting up Vicky and Amy while we’d all sat down in a booth and had burgers.

I’d asked Dean. But the most he’d been able to say was that the girl was a wild cavalcade of emotions mostly related to her humor, overlaid with an underlying satisfaction or even smugness that may have simply come from a thirteen year old landing a conversation with Glory Girl and Panacea as it may have come from figuring out who the new cape was.

I wasn’t sure, and the worry gnawed in my gut.

I couldn’t confront her because if I *did* and I was *wrong* I’d be tipping her off.

Worse, if she had figured it out, then how many others from Winslow had figured it out?

There weren’t enough lawyers in the world to manage that many NDA’s. Hell there weren’t enough NDA’s in the world to stop even basic high school gossip.

Did everyone know? Just not saying anything because they collectively didn’t wanna step on a landmine?

I wasn’t sure.

Aisha was displaced at the moment. Not enough room at Arcadia to fit her in, but I had accepted the girls number along with Dean, Vicky and Amy.

I’d accepted it for my own paranoia. Vicky because Aisha and her got along like gasoline on a fire, their respective sense of humor fueling the other.

Amy and Dean probably did it to just be polite.

My suspicions of the girl only grew when I got a text from her, asking if I wanted to hang out.

I only noticed it was a group chat when Vicky answered a few minutes later in the affirmative.

I’m not really sure how I feel about the fact that the thought of someone asking just me to hang out automatically raised my suspicions on that person’s truthfulness.

It probably said nothing good about my self confidence… definitely didn’t give my headspace any points in its favor either honestly.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

Interlude: Zoe Barnes

Most people couldn’t tell you ‘where it had all gone wrong’ in their lives. They couldn’t tell you what single event had shifted the reality of their lives to something unrecognizable from what it had been before into the horror it was now.

Zoe Barnes could.

She could tell you the exact instant that began the process of tearing her world down and brought it crashing and shattering into a million pieces around her ears.

“Mr. and Ms. Barnes?”

An envelope was extended, and taken.

“You’ve been served.”

She hadn’t panicked then. She hadn’t known then what was happening. How much of her world it was going to destroy How far this was going to go.

When she opened the envelope next to Alan. Read its contents alongside him. She knew there had to be a mistake.

There had to be.

But there wasn’t.

Soon after, she was being interviewed by police, PRT agents, and giving depositions. Alan was taking off time from work, consulting Carol who knew more about criminal law than he did.

He tried to keep her out of it. Reassure her that he’d have it all sorted out. That everything would be fine. The same way he told her everything would be fine after that horrible horrible day in the alley.

She’d believed him then. Wanted to believe him.

This time… not so much.

Because it was like a switch had flipped in his head all of a sudden. As callous and unfeeling and heartless as the worst of Lawyer stereotypes as she’d ever heard.

She was convinced there was a mistake. All Alan wanted to do was tear Taylor’s entire reputation and life apart. He was talking about defamation and slander lawsuits before the news had even settled in her mind. Like he’d been ready for this. Spoke about burying Daniel under a mountain of legal fees; going on the offensive as though they’d never been friends at all.

The first time he picked up the phone it was with thinly veiled insults and outright threats.

Zoe Barnes didn’t think her husband could be so cold. And she didn’t like the feeling of being proven so wrong.

They argued.

He with his platitudes and… robotic, slavish desire to clear Emma’s name no matter the cost.

To win the case no matter how he did it.

She screamed back, fighting him, telling him that this isn’t how you treat your friends. People you’d once considered family. Or at least she had. She loved… loves Taylor like her own niece.

What did it matter that they’d drifted apart? That didn’t just erase over a decade of joy and memories. Half her pictures with Emma had a child had Taylor right beside her. Half the pictures of her had Anne right there with her.

No. This wasn’t how you did things. Not the right way.

When Alan tried to stop her from asking Emma directly what was going on- for the first time in all their years together… she couldn’t stop the slap if she’d tried.

He didn’t try to stop her again.

Emma insisted it wasn’t true. That Taylor had gone crazy somewhere. Started making up stories. Taking drugs. Emma hadn’t told them because she’d always wanted to try and help.

She believed her… she apologized to Alan. Promised Emma they’d find a way to beat this.

She kept believing. Right up until Alan had demanded the Prosecution hand over all evidence for them to review.

After all, If Taylor was making everything up. There could be no evidence.

Then the evidence was delivered.

Stacks upon stacks of papers. Logs from Principal Blackwell, stored on her computer. Every complaint filed, every incident report, every school nurse visit.

It filled a box.

Sophia’s name was mentioned more often than not. But Emma’s name came up as well. Too frequently for it to just be happenstance.

Beyond that, Madison Clements; one of the other girls implicated… didn’t have parents as stupid as her husband. Trying to go on the supposed offensive, trying to beat the charges.

Madison had confessed. Urged by her parents to do the right thing the instant they found out.

Emma and Hess had demanded Madison delete all her texts and all their Emails.. Just like they had.

Clements hadn’t done that.

She, and her parents, printed out everything and handed it over to the prosecution.

That filled up two boxes.

And Alan still tried to fight. Tried to rail and gnash his teeth, throwing his weight around pushing and pushing and pushing.

The night she caught him trying to call Danny illegally in order to try and intimidate the man. She told him she wanted him out of the house.

That was last week.

Zoe had spent the days in a haze. Waking up every morning and marching down to the living room.

There she sat down.

And she read.

She read every page. Every line.

Starting from the earliest, right down to the last message Sophia and Emma had exchanged, demanding everyone delete their emails and their texts.

She read, for all intents and purposes a fast forward replay of how her little girl had become something… horrible. A twisted, ugly thing that she recoiled at the sight of. From planning small things like simple shoves and name calling to actively relishing moments when she made Taylor cry.

To read the words of Emma, all but laughing in the texts at the thought of what she was going to do to Taylor…

More than once, she’d had to stop. And more than once, she’d had to force herself to keep reading.

The prosecutor was still getting the transcripts of actual phone calls sorted out for more evidence.

She wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to read those too.

Finally- she came onto the last piece.

Copies of Taylor’s… journal. One of her journals.

She opened the file.

I don’t know what happened. Was the first line.

And she read that too.

Just as Emma was slowly transformed in those texts, so too was Taylor here. She could see it. Feel it. Read every line as Taylor fell deeper and deeper into helpless, fathomless despair. Pushed her under the surface until she was all but drowning.

Held down by Zoe’s own daughter.

It was late in the day by the time she finished it all.

It took her nine days.

Nine days.

By the end of it,  She felt sick.

Drawn and worn thin.

She sat on her couch, unfeeling and numb. Papers strewn about the whole living room

…

I don’t know what happened.

It was the one thought that bounced around her head. An echo of Taylor’s own thoughts when she started writing her journals.

Where… had it all gone wrong?

When did Zoe stop looking? When did she stop asking?

Was it complacency? Willful blindness?

How could her daughter turn into a… a monster right under her nose and she couldn’t see it?

Is it the same thing that turned her Husband into a cutthroat bastard the instant someone inconvenienced his perfect little world?

…

I don’t know what happened.

She’d run the whole gamut of emotions through this whole ordeal. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. Despondency. Disbelief. Rage. Denial. Everything. She felt as if she’d spent all of her emotions.

She was wrong.

Roaring back with a ferocity that scared her came her anger. Her disappointment and disgust.

She made a conscious effort to go to the kitchen and burn time there by making herself some coffee; hoping time alone would calm her down before she marched up those stairs.

She made the coffee. And took half a sip before she planted her cup back on the countertop, abandoning it before climbing up towards Emma’s room.

She opened the door and her daughter looked up from where she’d been laying in her bed.

Zoe wasn’t sure what expression was on her face, but if her daughter’s recoiling wince was anything to go by it was not an encouraging look.

Good.

The Barnes Matriarch forced herself into a placid, glacial calm she didn’t feel. Demanding all of her anger and all of her sheer fury and disappointment settle, hiding just beneath her skin as she stepped into the room with slow deliberate steps.

She reached the edge of Emma’s bed, turning and sitting, feeling the matress dip under her weight; hearing the bedsprings creak.

The silence settled. And Emma didn’t dare break it.

Zoe couldn’t, until she was sure her voice was under control.

….

“... I want you to tell me why.”

It was a simple demand… seemingly at least.

Emma didn’t answer.

Zoe didn’t dare look at her daughter. If she did, and she saw what she expected; Emma with her eyes cast down, staring at her feet and away in the way all teenagers did when they had no explanation she would not be able to keep hold of her calm.

“You’re going to answer me.”

She had to. Zoe was not Alan. She wasn’t going to accept anything less than an explanation that made sense.

There was nothing to justify it.

Nothing could ever justify it. But Zoe needed a reason. Something to at the very least explain it.

Emma’s answer came as an inaudible mumble.

“What?”

“I did what I had to.” She said quietly.

“What you had to?.” Zoe asked disbelieving. “You would… do that!?” She screamed, one arm cast down in the general direction of their living room. “All of that because you wanted to be Popular!?”

Was her daughter so vain? So unbelievably shallow!?

“She was your sister!” Zoe screamed, her hands pressing down beside her, fingers digging into the mattress as her arms trembled, burning her anger through the force of her grip.

“She was weak!” Emma suddenly screamed. “I- I had to get rid of her!”

“Get rid of her!?” Now Zoe was screaming, the volume of her voice easily swallowing Emma’s screech. “You don’t get rid of people Emma! You don’t just throw them away like garbage. Not after years. Taylor would have done anything for you!”

“She was holding me back!” Emma screeched, sitting up on her bed, furious tears burning in her eyes.

“Even if I believed that for a moment, then you simply say your friendship is over. Why hurt her!? Why do-” Her voice choked, and now her own tears were burning at her eyes as the words of Taylor’s Journal flitted through her memory. The sheer well of misery her daughter had subjected to another person. “Two years! Emma! Two. Years!”

Emma bared her teeth, a furious snarl pulling back her lips even as the tears burned in her eyes in a dichotomy of desperation and anger. “Sophia taught me how things work. How things are supposed to be. The strong survive and the weak don’-”

“SOPHIA IS A MONSTER!”

The howl of raw emotion tore at Zoe’s throat, a thousand pressures and regrets and pains built up over the last several days and weeks released instantly. A deluge of pure hate finally finally found an outlet and a voice.

Emma recoiled, hunching in on herself where she knelt on her bed. Then becoming small, her eyes going downwards and her head bowed.

“The strong survive…” Emma mumbled. “The weak don’t. Taylor was weak. The strong survive. Taylor was weak- I had to prove that.”

She said it with such certainty, such finality…

There was no remorse here. No doubt in her mind- nothing that told Zoe that her little girl, even now entertained the faintest notion that what she’d done was wrong.

She didn’t regret what she did. The only thing she regretted was getting caught.

Her rage rekindled. Pure anger drove the words she would never have uttered. Disgust fueled her to say something that would hurt. That would break through the shell around this girl that Sophia had laid the foundation for and Alan had built the walls around, brick by brick and stone by stone for two years, right Under Zoe’s nose.

“So I guess I should just toss you into an ABB alley? They’re strong, right? They get to survive. You don’t.”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Emma’s eyes shot open, wide. The skin of her face went ghost white as the blood drained from her. She stared at Zoe, terrified and faintly green.

The smoldering flame of her rage and disappointment was doused under the sheer horror she saw on her daughter’s face. She was horrified too. At herself. At her husband. At her daughter.

Her stomach roiled; regret now churning to the surface as she brought up her daughter’s deepest, darkest nightmare and brandished it in her face to hurt this girl that had so hurt Zoe herself through her actions.

She forced the tears down, forced down the pain. The hurt, the confusion, the anger, and the disgust. She sat down on her daughter’s bed again and opened up her arms, pulling Emma into an embrace.

Emma didn’t move at first, frozen stiff.

The tears came slow and quiet. Barely a sound escaping her.

Zoe wanted to believe they were real. But she wasn’t sure…

Where did it all go wrong?

Chapter Text

2.2

Contrary to popular belief, power testing is not a ‘One and Done’ deal.

Oh, sure, the PRT tried to cover as much ground as possible during your first power test to know where they could get started with your training and improvement. But they certainly reserved the right to call you in to test new possibilities the scientists had thought up fairly regularly during the first few weeks.

It was why I found myself, more often than not, on the rig, with other duties being canceled or moved around to accommodate the testing team’s desires.

Mostly their efforts revolved around finding a way to get me to summon my ashen idols (one of the scientists had let the name slip, and she preferred it to ‘statues’)

I could understand the desire, certainly; healing was by far my most valuable ability. Brutes, Blasters, and Shakers were a dime a dozen.

Healers were rare.

Unfortunately, beyond hurting myself in some way, the idols simply wouldn’t appear.

No matter what, I tried. Even when I actively shaped the ash to take the form of the idols, it wasn’t anything more than an ashen sand castle that would crumble the second I let go of it.

The idols were thus still labeled under a ‘subconscious power’ umbrella. Not something I could actively control, but the Scientists were discussing meditation or hypnotherapy to perhaps unlock my ability to pull them out at will.

I spent hours doing this on Saturday, and again, while I understood it, going from eight AM to two PM with almost no breaks outside of the bathroom and going to the water cooler was… grating.

So it wasn’t without a fair amount of relief that I saw Miss Militia stepping into the testing facility, sternly glaring at the scientists as she marched in.

I didn’t hear what she said behind the blast screens, but judging by the looks on some of the testing crew’s faces; it probably wasn’t a ‘job well done.’

Were they obligated to get results or something?

Miss Militia stepped past the blast screen, looking towards me and smiling kindly; her previous stern glare all but gone. “Lets get you something to eat.”

I nodded; food sounded really good right about now.

“Sorry.” I said, marching up to her. “Don’t be mad at them. I still can’t summon the idols at all.”

Her expression shifted, the skin around her eyes growing tight. “That’s not why I’m mad at them Taylor.”

I blinked. Had they screwed up something other tha-

“Power testing.” She began. “Isn’t something to be abused.” She stated, her eyes meeting mine steadily. “You aren’t a machine, and are certainly not to be treated like you are. Training without food and barely a break for six and a half hours is NOT what I cleared them to do with you.”

I blinked staring up at her-

“But… if I can find a way to heal-”

She knelt, cutting off whatever I was about to say as she looked me in the eye and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Your power is not more valuable than you.” The words were laced with steel. “Never ever think otherwise.”

A part of me wanted to argue. I've been Taylor Hebert for the past two years and… I didn’t want to be that Taylor again.

My Power had me here. As a Ward. With Miss Militia taking time out of her day to take me to lunch.

I wanted to argue but I could tell just by looking at her this was not an argument I was going to win.

I nodded.

She nodded back. Her smile returned. “Let's get you something to eat.”

(X)(X)(X)

Protectorate HQ of course had a cafeteria, it was pretty well stocked and the food was really good for a cafeteria. I figured we had to head on over there to get our meals.

Turns out, every morning said cafeteria shipped over a truckload of foods that could be refrigerated and warmed/cooked in one of the twenty ovens on the rig.

So no, we didn’t have to sail or take a helicopter to get lunch.

Which was good because those trips took around ten minutes or so and I was starving.

Miss Militia sat with me, the bandana coming off to reveal Miss Washington. She’d gotten herself a small little quart-sized box of rice and what was probably chicken breast. I’d gotten an alfredo pasta.

I thanked her as she handed me my food, and I’m not sure if it was rude or not or if I should have tried for conversation, but that concern came later.

I kind of wanted to stuff my face a bit rather than talk.

Luckily, when the silence was broken, I’d gotten enough calories to make me feel human again.

“Huh?” I asked, keeping my mouth closed as I chewed and swallowed.

Miss- Hannah smiled. “I’d like to teach you how to fight if you’ll let me.”

I blinked.

“I’m a brute?”

I’m not sure why I’m asking.

She snickered. “Yes. You are at that.” Came the cheeky reply.

She set down her water bottle, lacing her hands together as they rested on the table.

“It's true, most Brutes don’t really know how to fight with martial arts.” She began. “Mainly because their strength and durability can’t be turned off and most of them did not know martial arts before they got powers. So practicing is extremely difficult. And in some extreme cases like Alexandria, utterly redundant.”

“But mine can be turned off.” I said.”

She nodded. “I think you could benefit from it.”

I took a slow bite of my alfredo pasta, rolling the idea over in my head.

“I’m not… opposed,” I said slowly. Then, a thought. “Has this offer gone to some of the other Wards?”

Without the bandana, I could see her expression clearly, and I saw the sad lilt to her lips when she smiled, now looking at me.

“I have taught some of the Wards before, in a limited fashion when I have the time. Aegis, Galant, Vista and… Stalker too.”

The last one felt like an admission, but before I could comment on it, she kept talking.

“I would be training you a bit more than the others.” She nodded. “All of the others have relatively fast means of escape if they ever truly find themselves in a fist fight they want no part of. Aegis can Fly, as can Gallant, Vista can warp space to get away immediately, and so on. While you are the highest-ranking Brute among the wards, you have no Mover rating for an easy escape. I’d like to make damn sure nothing will happen to you if you’re ever in a fight with someone that can match your brute rating, or worse, overpower you.”

I nodded; the idea made sense.

And it’d be Miss Militia training me too.

I felt the smile tug at my lips. “I’d love to.”

Her own smile reflected mine, sunlight caught in a bottle radiating from her at my approval.

The moment passed; the smile dropped. Her kindness and happiness didn’t vanish but it was muted now; hiding behind a steel wall. “If this is gonna start we’re gonna start it right. First we’ll need to work out a suitable exercise program. Our doctors can draw you up a nice dietary and workout regimen.”

I blinked. “But...I thought we already have a good exercise program.”

Her eyes crinkled with mirth. “Not by my standards we don’t.”

Huh...

Still… I wasn’t sure if I was in for hell or not but that was no reason to not be grateful.

“Thanks Miss Mil-I mean Hannah. Which do you prefer?”

That smile of hers came back. All soft lines and gentle fondness I was wholly unfamiliar with by now. I felt my stomach fluttering and turned my eyes back to my food.

“Hannah without the mask Taylor.”

(X)(X)(X)

Monday was a half-day at school, and Vicky had… basically dragged as many of her friends as she could down to the Boardwalk to eat greasy foods high in salt and heart attack.

I’m still not used to group outings. Still not used to *friends* in general. But I’m getting there, or at least I hope I am.

Three of Vicky’s… hangers-on? That felt like an Emma thing and for all of the superficial similarities of being the “popular girls on campus” that they shared Vicky wasn’t Emma. She did seem to care about everyone she called a friend to some degree.

So… three of Vicky’s other friends had joined us, along with Dean and Amy of course, Carlos, Chris, Dennis, and some other guy named Joseph. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed like a friend of Carlos more than anyone here.

With such a large group, I flitted in and out of conversations easily, mainly with Chris, and Carlos, occasionally with Dennis and Vicky as the first made a joke and the other asked for my thoughts on some subject or other.

It wasn’t a bad experience, but I kept waiting for something to go wrong. Some screwup on my part or some social thing that I’d completely miss and be the odd one out again.

“Hey there rich people!”

The voice caught my attention, and I turned in time to find Aisha making her way over.

“Hey Laborn!” Vicky grinned, waving her over. “You stalking us?”

“Please. You’re not that hot.” The younger girl smirked, grabbing a chair from a nearby table and moving to drag it over. “Hey Tay, Ames, Boy-scout.” She greeted me, Amy, and Dean.

Pushing the chair forward, she made Chris and Dennis scoot over, planting herself into the already crowded table. “No school, nothing to do. Decided to walk, and I see you miss Glory Hero cutting classes!”

“Half day today.” One of the girls said.

“A likely story.”

Carlos cleared his throat. “Sorry; we haven’t been introduced. You are…”

The irreverent girl blatantly eyed him up and down. “Admiring the view.”

The Puerto Rican blushed- clearing his throat.

Amy sighed. “Guys, Girls. Laborn. Laborn. Guys and Girls.” She said,

“Aisha.”

Amy turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“If we’re gonna be friends, the name’s Aisha.” She reached forward and grabbed the hand Amy had resting on the table. “You’re Ames! Now we’re all nice and acquainted.”

“We met like a week ago.” Amy pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re not calling me Laborn.”

“Vicky does.” Amy pointed out.

“Yeah, but she says it in a fun way.”

Amy rolled her eyes.

Aisha smirked, turning to look at Chris. “And you… Mr. Blue shirt, I don’t even know your name.”

“Chris. Chris Gale.” He answered, no doubt still trying to process this.

She smiled. “I’m sure I’ll learn everyone’s name eventually. Good news, My bro pulled some strings. I might be getting a fast track to Arcadia.”

I blinked. “Wait… your bro pulled some strings?” I asked incredulously. “How does your bro pull enough strings to get past the waiting list?”

She smirked, hands rising to go behind her head as she leaned back. “You guys are rich; me and my bro got people.”

Dennis snorted.

“Yeah, right-” I said.

“It's true!” She protested. “I even got a badass student ID to go look at the school grounds tomorrow. She pulled it out, showing us.

…

“That’s a temporary pass. Not a student ID..” Amy pointed out in a tone so dry if it were a power, it would have drained the bay of water.

“Don’t matter!” She answered with a smile. “The real game-changer is that now the store clerks can feel all proud and shit that they have evidence when they tell me I can’t buy beer!”

I almost groaned, leaning forward to rub my temples with my fingers.

Winslow just breeds crazies.

I realized I spoke aloud when I heard her chirp in a gratingly cheerful voice.

“I know, right! We have so much in common! Now we just have to infect all these other people with some Winslow-brand insanity to liven up their lives. Let's start with cute Mr. Blue shirt!”

“My name is-WOAH!” Chris leapt to his feet, startling me, his face as red as a tomato

“Aww, are we a widdle shy?”

“Y-you just pinched my ass!”

Victoria snorted half her drink out of her nose, eyes burning as she laughed and cried simultaneously.

“A fine experience for both of us I’m sure.” Aisha grinned.

(X)

Later

“Come on~”

“No.”

“Please~?”

“Not happening.”

“Seriously, you need it!”

I sighed in frustration and looked at Victoria as I walked through the boardwalk with the group. “I told you, I’m not going to the mall. I’m fine with the clothes I’ve got.”

“Jeans and a normal shirt? Come on Tay, I’m offering you the best fashion help in Brockton Bay here.” Victoria pouted. “With the right blouse and skirt you’d look as cute as a button.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Vicky has a point Tay-girl.”

I felt a spike of annoyance, partially drowning out the sound of Vicky happily latching onto Aisha’s little agreement.

I felt a sharp vibration in my pants pocket. Pulling out the phone, it was a text message from Dean.

‘Ur getn annoyed at Aisha. Did she do something?. Wht up?’

I made a point not to look up at him and sighed. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back gonna get a… shake.” I quickly thought of the excuse; pulling away from the group who continued chatting as they waited for me to go and head back from the stand.

I heard Dean speak up behind me, “Yeah, I think I want something to now that she mentioned it.” I rounded the corner and leaned against the wall as I waited for him to join me.

My annoyance was no doubt spiking as I waited there. Both at Aisha and Dean for varying reasons.

The boy known to the rest of the world as Gallant joined me in ‘line’ speaking softly.

“Okay...so what’s wrong.” He whispered.

“You know…” I wasn’t trying to be testy, but I was. I had the right to feel annoyed in the privacy of my own head without him reminding me he could see it and butting in. “This is one of those things I could say isn’t your business.”

Despite my tone, Dean nodded, unflappable. “You’re right… say the word, and I back off, but- I told you it’d be good to talk about it. That offer’s still on the table if you want.”

My emotions no doubt were playing havoc inside of me; irritation, annoyance, reluctant gratitude, exasperation.

I didn’t want to talk about it. Not really. But I wanted to fuck up my relationship with the Wards even less.

If talking about it let me stay on the proverbial team, then… it was a small price to pay I guess.

I sighed. “It’s Aisha.”

“I gathered that…” He nodded quietly. “-what exactly is wrong with Aisha?”

I looked away. “It’s…petty of me, I guess” I hesitated.

“Tay...like a bandaid, its a lot easier to tear it off. rather than have me pulling teeth with 20 questions.” He prodded.

“She was at Winslow Dean.”

He nodded. “Yes, a lot of people were at-” He stopped himself, his countenance darkened. “Was she-”

I rapidly shook my head, realizing where my words had taken him. “Oh no, no, she...not like that...she...She wasn’t responsible for me ‘flipping out.’” I shook my head. “No...Hanah told me that she would find the ones who did and make them pay for it, and I believe her. It’s just that…” I shook my head.

“Just what?” He asked, curious.

…

“Aisha was never involved with what happened at Winslow…” I finally began “And that’s just the problem. She never did anything. And...yeah I never saw her. But she evidently saw me enough to recognize me huh? She knew who I was the second she looked at me. And even though she knew enough of me to recognize me from back then- not once did she speak up, or...or do anything to help me. And now… what? She figured out-” I stop myself.

I don’t know what Aisha figured out. Not for sure anyway.

“She figures I’m hanging out with Glory Girl and what am I Dean? Her ticket in? A foot in the door?”

I snorted, feeling my teeth grinding together.

Victoria of course would take Aisha inserting herself into the group in stride. The eldest Dallon sister couldn’t help but make friends wherever she bloody went. The two had been hitting it off and frankly; the only one who seemed even remotely uncomfortable was Chris and that was because Aisha kept pinching his ass when he wasn’t looking.

Dean looked at me sadly.

I tried to laugh, to lighten the situation but. It came out more like a cough. “Now...might just be me...but...that just seems...a little convenient…” I felt myself hiss the last word. My anger was bubbling up

Guess I still had some major hangups from Winslow. From Emma, Madison and Sophia.

I wanted to just push it aside. Let it go. But something, in this case Aisha had to drag this crap up to my face when I should have been able to just get away from it by now.

Dean took a breath, straightening where he leaned against the wall. “I understand. You’re angry at the thought of someone sucking up to you now that you’re ‘special.” His lips pursed, hands dug into his pockets.

“Not really. I can’t say with a straight face that if I was a normal girl coming to this school I wouldn’t be at least tempted to buddy up with Vicky knowing she’s a cape...what I’m angry about is what she didn’t do...if she knew me well enough to know my situation before and didn’t help then she shouldn’t try to be my friend now...” I sighed again and looked up.

Dean sighed through his nostrils. Before he could say anything though-  there was a sharp knock on the vending machine to our left. “Can I vote?” Said a voice that made both of us jump, and I turned, seeing Aisha looking at me with a neutral...well...as neutral as I’d ever seen her. The smile on her face was subdued but still there

“How long have you been there.” Dean said with a narrow gaze. It was rare for anyone to sneak up on him with his emotion sense.

Aisha’s features shifted, eyes going a little wide, eyebrows rising, and lips pursing. “Long enough to know I probably should have been invited to clear the laundry...or the air...or the whole house.”

She shrugged. Stepping around the vending machines, she came closer to us so she wouldn’t have to speak so loudly. “Ok...look, Tay. I get why you’re pissed, really. Now...I can lie. But I got a feeling it’ll just end up making things worse, soooo...Want the truth?”

My teeth were clenched. “Go ahead, I guess.” I spoke up. “What’s the truth? What could have been so important then that just disappeared now?”

“Truth is, Tay...you’re right. I knew of you. At least I knew your face. Didn’t really know your name. And everyone more or less knew helping you was a one-way ticket to shits-ville.”

Story of my life.

My glare must have been pretty obvious on my face because Aisha winced even as she shrugged. “Look, fact is you know as well as I do...to get through the day to day at Winslow was to keep your head down. My record was spotty enough as it was. Fights, shitty grades...if I stepped into the shit to help you...that probably would have meant me getting the boot out the door. And take it from me, given my situation outside of school that was not a goddamn option. No name Aisha. Vs Emma Barnes, Track star Psycho bitch and goody two-shoes Clements. How do you think that shit was gonna end?”

The acid at the back of my throat burned with the memory…

Yeah...I knew exactly how that shit would have ended.

I just barely caught Dean talking to himself. “Track Star?”

She took a breath and my focus went back to her.

“Look… I didn’t help. And yeah that was probably a shit thing to do but…keeping with the whole honesty thing; Even if I could go back Tay I would probably make the same choice again. When I say my personal situation outside of school was that bad...it really is that bad. By helping you I’d probably have been shooting myself in both feet. And that’s not an exaggeration.”

I took a deep breath. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to stay angry but I found my anger slipping between my fingers like sand.

Others hadn’t helped. No one in my classes. None of the teachers. And at least she wasn’t bullshitting saying she’d go back and do things differently.

Wasn’t that a good thing? Honesty? Emma hadn’t been honest. Not in a long time. No one at Winslow was honest in my experience. Just… apathetic.

And maybe Aisha was apathetic too but…

“It still feels like you’re just trying to make nice because of… who I know.” I said carefully.

She shrugged. “I mean...you’re here. I’m here...clean slate. No more Overlady Bitch Triumvirate. No more shitty school with Asian, Black, and Skinhead gangs. Leave the shithole burned to the ground where it should be.” Aisha looked up, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you want a clean start?”

…

Shit.

A part of me wanted to be… selfish I wanted my friends. The ones who knew nothing about Winslow. Nothing about the old Taylor. And Aisha was someone that was carrying the old Taylor with her.

But Aisha has no other friends here in Arcadia as far as I can tell. If I just tell her to buzz off, would I be any better than Emma who had isolated me from everyone in that school? Got them all on her side of the fence?

I sighed and readjusted my glasses.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly behind me. “If my word counts for something here...I believe her Tay.”

I looked at him, he looked away, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Okay.” I sighed. “Aisha...lets just...put this...try to put this behind us.” I could see Aisha perk up and then light up like a christmas tree as she smiled.

My phone buzzed and I picked it out of my pocket.

‘You coming to the mall with us yes or yes?’ It was from Vicky.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. New friend or not I knew better than to step into a mall with Victoria Dallon and it's time she got that through her head.

(X)

“Come on out Taylor!”

“Tay-girl, can’t hide in there forever~”

I mumbled something under my breath.

“What was that Tay?”

“Victoria give me back my clothes! I’m not coming out like this!”

She had the gall to laugh. “Oh Tay. Of course you’re coming out. If you don’t I’ll just float over the door and look for myself anyway and that’ll be way more mortifying.”

“I’m going to hurt you...badly.”

“Come on,” I heard someone else speak, one of Vicky’s friends. Jane, I think her name is. There are like fifteen of them around here.

There’d been three at lunch. I’m not really sure how they’d bred so fast.

They’d all headed off to go look for clothes for themselves as soon as we started… or at least… I hope that’s what they’re doing..

The thought of fifteen girls like Vicky helping to look for clothes for me is something that might just be enough to make a normal person trigger…

”It can’t be that bad.”

“Its…”

“It’s what? Adorable?” Cooed Victoria from behind the door. I let out a sigh. “Ok, I can’t take it anymore I’m gonna float over the door”

“No!” My mortified screech could have swallowed up the mall as far as I could tell. “I’ll come out just...give me a second.”

I opened the door, frowning and blushing hard as my current attire was displayed to the girls. I was wearing a no strap blouse, and if I ever had a chest I would be showing some cleavage. And I had a skirt that I know that if Dad ever saw it would be something he’d have burned in a furnace while making me quote bible passages like a sinner on his last day on earth.

“Ok you’ve seen it. Can you give me back my clothes and let me change back now?” I asked with gritted teeth. Victoria nodded.

Victoria scoffed. “Tay. That’s one possible outfit. We came here to shop honey.”

I noticed then, to my horror, that a chair that had been pulled up when we came in here was now filled with several articles of clothing which...Jenny? Jennifer? Whatever her name was was holding one hand over to keep steady…

Evidently the other girls were out there looking for clothes for me…

...Perhaps I’d be lucky and Lung would blow up something nearby...

Victoria eyed me up and down. “Hmmm...Well...tall, pale skin, definitely need to go with darker shades.”

“Her dark hair also opens up for some nice light summer colors if we’re careful.” The other girl supplied...bitch.

Correction. Bitches. Both of them....All of them... Victoria and the other evil helpers were not exempt here...How the hell did I get talked into this?

Oh yeah that's right...because my perfectly reasonable excuse for saying no (IE: Work) Was suddenly not a viable solution.

Why?

Because of Victoria’s blabbermouth boyfriend telling them that only Missy and Stalker were on call right now.

Goddamnit Gallant.

“I don’t like summer colors.” I groused.

Victoria sighed dramatically and shook her head. “Taylor Taylor. It's not about what you like, it's about looking good. You think any girl likes walking around in high heels?”

I glared. “You cheat with high heels.”

She winked. “Invulnerability and Flight. Every girl's best friend right after accessories.

I glared…

Bitch!

I am going to hurt you Dean...if it’s the last thing I do.

She turned around. I hesitate to use the words “plucking” in any context but Victoria actually seemed to, quite literally ‘pluck’ the clothes she wanted out of the pile.

“Maybe something like this…” she quirked an eyebrow as she phantom dressed me, holding it over my chest and legs. “Hmmm...maybe... Gotta play to your strengths after all.” The Dallon girl nodded then proceeded to shove the clothes in my face and push me back into the changing room. “Try this one on. By the time you walk out of here we’re gonna have boys tripping in the hallways as you pass by.”

I rolled my eyes but allowed a smile at the good-natured lie. It’d been a long time since I had a friend do so much to make me feel… pretty...I forgot how much I missed it.

“Right...anyways, is there a way I can wear something, I dunno, comfortable and not excruciatingly clumsy and painful?” I asked.

“Well...it's your first time out so I guess we can make you a rockin’ ballroom wardrobe later. For now we can stick with the basics. That last dress did look really good on you...maybe a different color though...”

“Do they have different colors?”

“Jenny~” I could almost swear Victoria snapped her fingers not even Jenny’s ‘Yeah yeah’ banished the impression from my mind. It made me frown a bit. How Victoria’s friends follow her every command reminds me how Emma seemed to control the school back at Winslow.

If she ever got it in her mind to be just as bad she could be far far worse…

I shook my head.

Victoria is not Emma...she can’t be like that. She’s a hero and she’s been nothing but nice to me, even going so far out of her own time to try to make me look good...and-

Emma was like that too once

-and I was not going to let the memory of Emma Barnes control my impressions of people anymore than it already did!

“Back!” Jenny called out, having every array of dresses in varying colors. “Found every color!”

“Oh goody!” Victoria had her hands clasped. “I can’t wait to see you in them Tay!”

I sighed a little. Pros and cons Taylor. Pros and cons.

This was going to be a long-afternoon.

And it was. I managed to buy three dresses, and afterwards I convinced Victoria that jeans were what we were getting, not ridiculous skirts and denim short-shorts. I even managed to grab some good looking blouses too. Too bad this took nearly FOUR HOURS. Victoria drove me back around PRT HQ when the sun was starting to set…

I liked my purchases...though I’d probably go villain before I ever wore those heels Victoria tried to put on me.

Chapter Text

2.3

As I'm left wheezing on the ground like a winded dog I try to recall the small bubbling kernel of fondness I once had for Miss Militia.

I can't seem to recall it much at all.

The Kurdish woman steps into view, smiling with far too much joy at my pain and misery.

"Having fun?" She asked

I groaned. "Was this like… your warmup routine or something?"

"Not a warmup." She answered with an easy shrug. "But a relatively light session by my standards. But you're young and need to put on a bit of muscle mass. It'll get easier I promise."

I nod, releasing a long sigh before she offers me a hand to help me get back on my feet.

Hannah smiles down at me, and the lines of her face are all softness and kindness. I find myself smiling back.

"The workout is done for the day." She nodded. "But if you're up to it I'd like to get started on at least the basics of fighting. Footwork, blocking and such."

I nodded, feeling a flutter of giddy excitement in my chest. "Yeah, definitely."

Maybe I was a little too enthusiastic, showing my age, because Hannah chuckled, then gestured for me to follow her to the mats.

When we got there, I noted a single crate of ash in the corner. I'd felt the static along the back of my mind of course, but then again, there was always some ash on base these days for use in case of emergencies.

"I thought you didn't want me to use my Brute rating." I asked.

"Oh, you won't." She shook her head. It's just something to use 'just in case you're more advanced than I thought you were, or if you're a natural."

That made me quirk a brow. "How advanced do you think I am?"

She looked at me and her smile was a bit apologetic. "Before Oni-Lee, you've never thrown a punch in your life have you?"

I opened my mouth… then shut it.

"Not… really no."

She nodded, because that's what she'd been expecting. "I saw some of Vista's helmet cam footage. You overswing your punches. Telegraph your intent. And if not for the brute rating most of the force would have been completely lost in those swings. Your footwork is… civilian like."

I squirmed where I stood. I know it wasn't malicious and I appreciated her taking her time for this but my instinctive reaction at having my shortcomings pointed out is… defensive. As a reflex.

She stood infront of me. "Alright. I don't follow any specific martial art. Over the years I've taken bits and pieces from several to fit me, my power and my preferences. Lets start with basics. Follow my moves please."

I nodded, looking at her stance before quietly mimicking it and we got to work.

(X)(X)(X)

By the time we were done, it was well in the afternoon. I was exhausted and Hannah somehow still had the energy to be ready for a patrol in two hours.

Meanwhile I was all but shambling into the Wards common area; with every muscle and joint in my body telling me to go lay down on a bed and drop dead until tomorrow.

I spotted Missy on the Wards couch, a bowl of jello or something in her lap. The TV was on; some kind of documentary with a guy who was way too enthusiastic about grabbing a snake that could kill him if it looked at him wrong or something.

…

Must have been in Australia.

"Hey Tay." Missy called.

I nodded back. "Shower." I said by way of explanation to not seem completely rude.

Dragging the near carcass that was my body to my room I pulled out some underclothes and a change of clothes to something more comfortable. I'll be on base all day today. I didn't have the energy to go anywhere right now and I had console duty from five to eight tonight. And no one said I had to be in costume for console duty.

Hopping into the shower, I was probably in there for a little too long, all things considered, as I felt the water go from boiling hot to lukewarm. Or my body was just acclimatizing. But the heat and the steam felt too good.

Washing the sweat and grime off of my skin and hair, soon enough I felt like a person again, walking out back into the common area with a contented sigh, dressed now in some sweatpants, socks and a comfy T shirt, I plopped myself down next to Missy on the couch, ready to watch the man enthusiastically put his hand in a gator's mouth.

"Jello?" She asked.

I nodded.

Space warping was a godsend. It let her bend the space between here and the kitchen countertop like taffy and then bend the space between the countertop and the drawer on the other side of it to pull out a spoon. Another twist and she was rinsing it in the sink. All without getting off the couch.

To say the visual of this gave me a bit of a headache would be an understatement.

But I didn't have to get up. Like… at all. So I'll take the headache to not have to get off my seat.

She offered me the spoon and quietly I began to nibble on her very large bowl of cherry flavored gelatin.

"So where is everyone?" I asked as the animal guy started regaling us with how venomous the spider crawling on his arm was.

"Dennis and Brendan are out in civvies, Chris is Tinkering, Aegis and Galant are on patrol for today."

A tickle at the back of my mind before I identified it. "And Stalker? Its kinda weird that she's just dropped out of nowhere isn't it?"

Missy shrugged. "Stalker's a bitch." She answered rather bluntly. "Bosses are pissed at her."

"Any guess on what happened?" I asked. More idle curiosity than anything.

Missy shrugged again. "Already said. She's a bitch and that's an understatement." She looked around, seemingly making sure no one could hear us. She warped space around the couch, stretching it so no one could sneak up or open the door to listen in.

Now I was curious.

"Stalker was a vigilante before she came here. Excessive force was kind of her staple. My guess. She went out on one of her solo patrols and did a bit too much damage."

I stared at the younger girl, blinking rapidly. "She killed someone?"

Missy offered one more shrug. "That's my best guess. It would explain why she's basically on Armsy and Piggot's bad side to the point of basically being under house arrest. We weren't even supposed to talk to you about it. Probably so you wouldn't think we're all assholes or something."

Huh…

"Damn." I said. "I guess. Seems a bit excessive though. I don't think I'd hold it against you guys just because some vigilantee girl was too violent."

Missy shrugged.

Sitting back as space reset itself around us; and we were back to listening in on the animal guy pulling the fangs of a snake with his bare hands until they dripped with venom.

…

"You think this guy's a brute or something?" I asked.

"Dennis thinks he's got some sort of stranger power where animals don't want to eat him."

(X)(X)(X)

Just before Console duty was done, at exactly 7:52 PM things… kind of went to hell.

It started with a call about some kind of fight happening downtown, a brawl based out of an illegal dog fighting ring. Normally cops would handle it, but it was supposedly one of Hookwolf's dog fighting rings.

So it was rerouted to the PRT and I routed the call to Armsmaster and Velocity.

There had been absolutely zero reports of Parahumans on sight.

I know because I checked.

Three times.

Apparently 'no reports' meant Hellhound from the Undersiders and Hookwolf, because of course.

Hellhound booked it in short order. Hookwolf decided to stay and fight.

Then Cricket showed up.

Then Stormtiger showed up.

Then Alabaster showed up.

Velocity could run interference on Alabaster and Cricket well enough, and Armsmaster was giving Hookwolf and Stormtiger plenty of fight, but soon enough all Protectorate capes were being called in to answer and what started as a minor brawl out of a Dog Fighting pit escalated into damn near running battle in the streets.

No fatalities; in the end. But Velocity nearly had his leg ripped off by Hookwolf, Miss Militia had been caught by shrapnel and Armsmaster's suit sounded like grinding gears as he walked.

Hookwolf, and Cricket got away. Stormtiger and Alabaster, not so much.

I tried to keep up with everything but I was more than grateful for Dean and Carlos back seat guiding me as things started happening and Armsmaster started barking orders for certain procedures to be made ready.

I was made to call New Wave; it wasn't super late but I was fairly sure Brandish wasn't happy at Panacea needing to be called in to nearly reattach Velocity's leg and heal Miss Militia.

Either that or the woman always sounded angry.

By the time everyone returned to PRT HQ, with to Containment Foam blobs that were the villains; they were all exhausted, but that didn't stop Armsmaster from calling everyone, including the Wards on Base to "suit up and meet in conference room D"

I was still kind of freaking out by that point. But Carlos, Dean and Missy suited up in short order, looking like this was somewhat… expected. So that lowered my anxiety levels as I threw on the undersuit one piece and emptied my four crates of ash to form my armor around my body.

I followed Aegis, behind Gallant and Vista, finding conference room D fairly quickly with him in the lead.

Didn't take long for others to start showing up.

The first was Assault and Battery; I hadn't really met them beyond a few quick greetings in the hall. Not out of any sense that they were avoiding me mind you, or callousness. They seemed nice. Just differing schedules for the most part. The two of them worked the early morning/late night shifts, usually when I was asleep

Following after them in short order was Hannah; and I felt my disquiet and concern grow as I saw how exhausted she looked. Patches of her suit were torn, flecks of dried blood still peppered her skin and clothes where she'd been injured before Panacea got to them. Her bandana was singed. She offered me a kind smile and I tried to smile back, even though the costume and helmet made seeing it difficult.

Finally Armsmaster, his suit still grinding uncomfortably as he moved, Director Piggot directly behind him.

"How's Velocity?" Assault asked.

"Resting." The Tinker answered. "I trust Panacea's work, but that injury was severe. I will inform him of this meeting in the morning."

The man stepped aside following Director Piggot as the woman made her way to the head of the conference table.

"We've done this song and dance before." Piggot growled. "We've captured two Parahumans affiliated with the Empire eighty eight. Stormtiger and Alabaster."

She sat down, and not to sound insulting but it was a heavy movement. Like she was bracing herself for a fight rather than a talk.

"We can hold them on the rig, almost indefinitely." She nodded. "But when they're to be transferred to a prison is when the E-88 will be moving to free them." She sighed, a sound full of aggravation.

"I don't want this to be a repeat of all the other times we've captured Parahumans." She snarled. "I want all hands on deck. Everyone. From PRT troopers, to Wards to every member of the protectorate as a whole that I have available right now." She turned and looked straight at me.

"Ashburn."

I found myself straightening at her tone. "Ahh.. Yes ma'am?"

"You're new." She said simply. "But those healing statues. That's something that can shift the balance here."

"Director." Militia began. "The Encounter with Oni-Lee was an accident. She's had little formal training, hasn't even debuted yet just beca-"

Piggot held up her hand, cutting off the protest. "This isn't something that's happening tomorrow Militia. Nor something that can't be extended as time demands. As already stated. We can hold them on the Rig almost indefinitely. But when this happens to not have a readily available source of healing that can self sustain much better than Panacea- I would be stupid not to involve her. I don't intend for any of the Wards to fight Hookwolf or Kaiser, that's your job. But do you truly believe the Six Protectorate capes on hand can take on the Empire's  remaining twelve without at minimum her ability to keep you in the fight."

I couldn't tell from under the bandana, but I was fairly certain Militia's look was a grudging concession.

Piggot turned to Armsmaster. "Give me an actionable plan."

The man nodded. "Preliminarily?"

The woman nodded.

The Tinker cleared his throat, turning his attention to the rest of us in the room. "Needless to say, in protecting the prisoner transport, the Protectorate will be the first line of defense. Myself, Velocity, Assault, Battery and of course Miss Militia."

The man reached for the left vambrace on his armor, pressing some buttons. A screen lit up, highlighting the twelve remaining Empire capes.

"By order of their highest threat ratings-" He began. "Purity. Recognized as the second strongest Blaster on the East Coast. Hookwolf, One of the strongest Brute/Changer/Breaker powers. These two represent the Empire's greatest level of firepower. Purity has not been seen recently in many Empire operations- so it is a possibility she will not be a part of this one. Thus, I expect Hookwolf will be their primary instrument here."

Another press of some buttons. "Kaiser himself, a high ranking Shaker, and while it is likely he will engage the Protectorate it is unlikely he will push to the battle further to release his captured capes personally by hand."

"Why's that?"

I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud until the others turned to look at me.

Armsmaster took the question in stride however. "It would be beneath him to fight Troopers and children."

Oh… good? I guess?

"Because of this, Fenja and Menja, the twin guards at his side are likely to also keep themselves at his side. Night and Fog, similar to Purity have not been seen overmuch during recent Empire operations. If they follow her lead, or are simply not present in Brockton Bay any longer, they will also not be here."

"That's a pretty big If." Assault cautioned. "Neither of those are exactly low priority targets."

"True. But that is why this is a preliminary plan for the time being. I will also ready countermeasures for both of their powers." The Tinker stated. "Those are by far the largest threats. And likely will be the ones engaging the Protectorate directly While that happens the remaining Empire capes will try to push forward. Most of them however, are vulnerable to Containment foam to some degree or other.

The remaining list of villains was highlighted.

Victor, Othala, Rune, Krieg, Cricket.

"Othala will not be present. She's too valuable to risk on the front lines. Victor similarly will not engage in a range that he might be hit with containment foam. Likely He and Krieg will run interference with the PRT troopers."

"While Cricket and Rune go after the actual transports." Piggot finished for him. "It makes sense. But it's a plan relying on three of their heaviest hitters not appearing. That's too much good luck you're counting on.

He nodded. "I will make modifications and as I said, devise countermeasures. If Night and Fog appear, I'm confident I can at least diminish their impact."

"And Purity?" Miss Militia called.

The Tinker was notably silent.

Before the silence became awkward and oppressive the man turned to us. "Aegis. As the captain I expect you to brief your fellow Wards on all the discussed Parahumans ratings, powers and engagement protocols."

"Yes sir." They didn't look my way, but I was fairly sure it was something meant specifically for me.

"You will also work out an actionable plan to guard the transport with your fellow wards and will then coordinate with me to determine its viability and account for all support parties."

"Yes sir."

Seemingly having said his piece the Tinker stepped back, ceding the 'floor' to the Director.

"You all know your jobs." She said. "Most likely this transport won't be happening for at least another few weeks. Get ready. Eliminating two capes, even relatively minor ones is a step in the right direction. Dismissed. Armsmaster, Militia, go to the infirmary. Panacea healed you, doesn't hurt for the doctors to give you another look."

Militia offered a nod, Armsmaster seemed to find the idea irritating judging by the purse of his lip.

My eyes trailed down to my hand.

They needed me to figure out this healing thing…

Looks like my timetable was just bumped up.

Chapter Text

Interlude: Danny Herbert

Daniel Hebert had promised himself long ago that he would not be like his father.

His father had been an aggressive man. A barely restrained drunk who couldn't control his temper. A bad father and a worse husband.

A large part of him was ashamed to admit that he was too much like his father despite his best efforts.

He was an aggressive man.

He kept it out of the house, away from Taylor. But he was. You didn't stay as head of a dockworkers union in Brockton Bay for years and years on end, finding jobs for your boys and keeping the gangs out of your business if you weren't aggressive.

He had his fathers temper.

He knew that. He didn't… release it. He made an active effort to never ever allow that. But it still existed. Silently smoldering under his skin and turning the edges of his vision gray as blood thundered in his ears while he forced himself to remain quiet and swallow down the rage.

He… liked to think he wasn't a bad husband.

At least before that night where he'd been arguing on a cell phone before…

He hoped he'd been a good husband.

But of all his failures in life in the effort to not be his father; these last two months had made it abundantly clear that his worst failure was in regards to fatherhood.

Because he had to own up to the fact he was a bad father.

Not in the same way of course.

He'd never abused Taylor, never even hit her. He'd never really raised his voice, or shown up at home drunk, even during the worst of his days. He made an effort to put food on the table rather than spend it on himself.

But in other ways?

In seeing to her happiness. In doing more than giving her a perfunctory greeting in the morning and one at night. In making sure her life was better than his in every way he could…

No. Danny needed to admit he was not a good father.

Even now, after this realization, he still couldn't claim to be a good father.

He'd focussed on the trials; of course. Both civil and criminal. He'd missed days at work, fought on her behalf as best he could, releasing the tight tether on his temper when it would be beneficial and held it in where it wouldn't.

But it was more of his old pattern just in a different suit. Throwing himself into a task. A job he could complete.

His interactions with his daughter were reduced to phone calls in the morning and evening.

Still distant. Still absent.

And the only reason that didn't drive him into sheer despondent sadness was because she seemed… happy.

It had been so long since he'd even seen her happy that he'd forgotten what it looked like.

And didn't that just say so much?

He hated it. This situation. This reality where he found himself. That his daughter was happier when other people were seeing to her needs better than he ever could.

He hated it but at the same time he felt he had to accept it. That he had to smile for it.

Because he'd done enough damage without allowing his hurt feelings and pride to get in the way of her happiness on top of everything else he'd done wrong.

She came by on the weekends. Friday evening until Monday morning when he drove her to school. And when she was here he made time for her, like he should have done- like he should have been doing for years now.

But he could still see that she was excited to return to the Wards. The Protectorate. Excited for this new sense of purpose.

And he knew it wasn't fair to equate that with her wanting to be away from him. But the shadow of his own failures loomed large and that's what it felt like.

But he kept quiet. Kept a lid on his feelings because she didn't deserve that. She deserved better from him and it was high time he delivered it.

Even so; it took effort to return home every night. To the four empty walls and damning silence.

When Taylor was here… there was a life in the house. Movement. Something that reminded him that he did more than just exist.

Monday through Thursday were the worst days out of every week.

Returning home today; it was late.

But it was always late.

Because it was easier that way. Too tired to think. Too tired to stay awake. Just shower, fall in bed and let the next day come. Counting down until friday.

But tonight, approaching the darkened driveway of his home, Danny felt himself stiffen.

There was a car in his driveway.

He pulled up, grabbing hold of his can of mace and the wheel club in his free hand. He contemplated stepping out of the vehicle, or just backing away and calling the cops.

Then the decision became somewhat moot.

The stranger's car opened, and from out the driver's seat Zoe Barnes stepped out of the car.

Danny felt the tension in his body diminish by a hair- though not fully leave him.

He stayed in his car for a few seconds longer. Making sure he had a hold on his temper before he shut the thing off, the headlights going dark as he opened the door and stepped out.

He eyed the woman standing not ten feet from him. "Think this still counts as ex-parte communication."

She winced. "The… settlement is done by tomorrow morning."

"Then come back tomorrow I guess." He answered simply. Pocketing his keys and beginning to march to his front door.

"Daniel, wait- please I."

He marched past her, up the two steps with the rickety step that he still hadn't fixed. "I told your husband to go screw himself when he tried to brow beat me into a deal so now he sends you to do the soft pitch. I'll-"

"Daniel, I threw Alan out of the house!"

Her shout brought him up short, the keys hovering over the lock on the door.

"Look I… I have something just… take it and if you want me to leave afterwards I'll leave, you'll… I'll never bother you again, ok?"

Daniel closed his eyes, counting back from ten, feeling his heart thump thumping under his breast.

What would his father do here?

Taking a breath. Unsure if it was even remotely the right choice Daniel turned, the keys rattling in his grip. "What?" He decided to ask, keeping his voice as level as possible.

Zoe seemed to stiffen, stepping back towards her car and opening the door to the back seat.

She pulled out a box, cherry wood and long. Daniel felt his breath catch.

He recognized that box.

She held it out to him, opening it to reveal Annette's flute, its metal frame glinting in the moonlight.

With ponderous slowness, Daniel reached for it, taking the box in hand, looking at the instrument and feeling his lips press together in spite of himself.

"Taylor said Emma destroyed it."

It was a statement. But the question was there regardless.

'Was she wrong?'

Zoe did not meet his eyes. "She… she did."

The swell of burning anger seemed to be matched by the open heartbreak he could see on Zoe's face and hear in her voice.

Slowly… he shut the box. And the silence between them became heavy. Oppressive.

He's unsure how long they were standing out there. Lingering on his front porch.

"Come inside." He finally says.

(X)(X)(X)

He doesn't want coffee. Not really. But it keeps him busy. Lets him center himself. Lets him brace himself for this conversation he's not sure he wants to have, or even if he should have it.

Is this a betrayal of Taylor? He's not sure.

Would a good man throw Zoe out without listening to her after she'd done him this… courtesy?

He's not sure.

Would a good father act to protect Taylor's interests no matter what? And throw Zoe out because of that?

He's not sure.

He knows it's likely what Alan Barnes would have done. So it's enough to cement his decision for now.

If there's someone besides his father Daniel doesn't want to emulate, it's definitely Alan fucking Barnes.

When the coffee is done, its too soon. And yet already part of him wants this conversation over with.

He pulls free two mugs. Fills them, carries them over, then offers his tray of sugar and cream for her to take. Zoe's voice is a whisper as she thanks him, her hands gripping the cup, warming her fingers.

Daniel sits. Drinking his coffee straight, he doesn't look at her. Not really. Just looks at her hands. He's not sure if she's watching him.

"You came here to talk." He finally says. It's the closest to an invitation she can manage.

…

"I… I don't know what to say." She finally says.

Danny grunts. He could relate perhaps.

"I'm sorry Daniel."

"Are you?" He can't help the bite in his voice. Or the sentiment behind his question.

"Emma does… everything you can think of to hurt Taylor short of killing her." Now he turns his eyes up, glaring at her. "And the first time I call your husband to clear things up his answer is to threaten me with a Lawsuit." He sees her wince and can't bring himself to care. "So are you sorry? Or are you just sorry because things didn't go your way!?"

She shakes her head, clenching her eyes shut, tears beginning to glisten at the edges.

He's made a woman cry. Another thing he has in common with his father now.

Zoe opens her mouth. Closes it. He sees her hands clench on the table, see's her whole body shake and see's her visibly pull herself together.

She's staring at the table now. Not at him. And though her voice is shaky at the start- he hears it gain strength as she talks.

"I… I want to tell you what happened." Her voice is barely a whisper. "After all of this you deserve… you deserve to know why don't you? Isn't that important?"

He snorts. "You're saying there's a reason for this?! Are you seriously trying to justify Emma's abuse-"

"No!" Her shout is something raw and jagged, she snaps her eyes to meet his and there's a snarl on her face as she bites out her next words.

"I am not my husband. I am not justifying what Emma did! Never. I… I-" The fury leaves her, letting her sag onto the chair, smaller than she was before. Spent.

"I loved Taylor." She whispers. "I loved Annette… and you. And I… messed up." She sniffles. "I didn't do what I had to do. And if I can give Taylor, or you some small measure of closure by telling you what happened- Doesn't that count for something?"

Daniel wanted to be angry. Being angry was easy. Everything else was complicated.

I didn't do what I had to do

The anger burnt away. Leaving embers on the kindling.

He leaned forward, now nursing his own half empty cup.

"Tell me then." He said quietly. "I'll listen."

And I'll decide if Taylor will hear the excuse. Went unsaid.

For a long while, Zoe didn't answer. Didn't speak.

Then she did.

Daniel sat and listened.

The Alley. The ABB. The Rescue by Shadow Stalker. Emma latching onto the girl named Sophia. Alan Barnes insisting everything was fine. Zoe… choosing to believe them. Not looking deeper. Not wanting to look deeper.

Years of abuse allowed by single instants. Single moments of simple easy choices. And his daughter had paid for all those choices she didn't make. All those decisions she couldn't have known about or influenced.

He listened.

And in the end it didn't… change anything.

It didn't absolve anyone.

"Taylor was still hurt." He mumbles. The coffee in his mug was now cold sludge. The tiredness of his body now reflected across his mind. "I can't… I can't just take this and say I understand Zoe."

"I'm not asking you to." She sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue. Her eyes are red and puffy along with her nostrils. Zoe did not cry 'pretty' "I… I just wanted to tell her why it happened. In all of her journals it was a big thing… her wondering what she did wrong. She never…"

The woman stopped. Sucking down a shuddering breath. "-she was perfect." Zoe whispered. "She was always perfect for Emma.. and I'm sorry my daughter could have ever conceived to throw that away for Sophia Hess.

…

"Yeah." He nodded. He took a breath

She muttered something about her having Emma going to see a doctor. But by now he wasn't truly listening. He couldn't.

His hand drifted away from the mug. Grabbing hold of his keys.

"Come on." He mumbled, forcing himself to his feet. "I'll drive you home."

She jerked, her head snapping up to his. "What? But- No I."

"You're crying." He said simply. "You're not used to driving at night. You're tired." He rattled off, throwing on his jacket.

"Anne will drive you tomorrow to pick up the car. I-" He paused. "I hate this. All of this. Maybe you, maybe Alan and Emma. Doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt in an accident." He paused. "Your family… doesn't deserve that." He forced himself to say it. Forced himself to believe it.

"Let's go."

She didn't protest further. Either to not argue with him. Or because his face told her not to.

She got in his truck, buckling up.

They drove in silence.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to her home.

He said nothing as she unbuckled. Thanking him quietly as she stepped out of the car.

"You deserved better from us." She whispered.

… Yeah. He doesn't say.

"You're a good man Daniel."

My father wasn't… and I'm too much like him.  He doesn't say.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

…

He shifts the car into drive, turns and heads back home. Back to counting the days.

Chapter Text

Interlude: Colin Wallis

The small ping that chimed through the lab was the only forewarning he received before he heard Dragon's voice through the speakers of his personal computer.

“Colin.”

“Yes?” He asked, not looking up from his work. The tiny Phillips screwdriver was held firmly in his fingers.

The last time he dropped it, he'd had to disassemble his whole halberd just to get it out. And without the proper screwdriver to do it. Not something he was going to repeat anytime soon.

“Recently, I’ve been going over some of the footage from Ms. Hebert’s most recent power tests, hoping to find a way to help the girl summon her ash idols on demand for healing.”

“Hmm. Yes, Thank you for that.” He remembered to say. She was doing it as a favor to him, after all. “Did you discover anything?”

“I noticed a discrepancy.”

This time he picked up his head from where he was looking down, wiping at the bridge of his nose once before looking at his computer screen where Dragon's avatar took up the whole mass. “Discrepancy?”

“The data you and your team recorded during Miss Hebert's power testing. It's either wrong, or something changed. Knowing you, I'm betting on the latter.

Using his wheeled chair, he crab-walked around his workbench to make it to his computer. Then minimizing Dragon's image, he began leafing through his files to find Taylor's Power testing data.

“What did you notice?”

“The powers she demonstrated are noticeably stronger than before.”

He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Is that it? With practice and experience, many parahumans ge-”

“Not like this.” She used the back door controls he offered her so long ago to bring up two distinct images. “The flames she used during the initial power test were measured at roughly thirteen hundred degrees fahrenheit. But look here.” She slightly enlarged one of the more recent recordings.

Curiously, it didn’t have Taylor within it, but rather the burnt, ruined remains of the combat dummies left in her wake.

She paused the image, using software to highlight the remnants of a charred husk. Beside it was one of Taylor's ash idols.

“As you can see here, the dummy is already burnt, correct?”

“Yes.” He said slowly.

“According to my instruments, its temperature is at twenty-two hundred degrees.”

That made him raise an eyebrow. Ashes were burning hotter than the flame?

She superimposed another image, this time of A volunteer trooper's body cam as he stepped towards the idol, a cut on his palm slowly beginning to seal shut.

Again the image was paused highlighting the… active ash idol. “Here, within the idol itself it's even more bizarre. My instruments are reading wildly fluctuating temperatures. From a thousand degrees to nearly ten thousand. All within seconds of each other. Something that is simply not possible with any non para-human temperature control.”

“She's discovering new aspects of her power.” He frowned.

“It's well known that Legend believed himself to be a simple Blaster before he discovered his ability to bend the beams and change their effects.”

“She needs to be tested further then.” He nodded to himself. “A complete top to bottom workout.”

“I don't think so.” He turned his head to her image, listening. “At least not yet, It does her no good to be constantly poked and prodded every time something changes. when, frankly, much about her power seems to change every other day in small ways. You should give it time to see where and how things… settle, before deciding to overhaul her ratings completely. Not everyone has your work ethic Colin. You can exhaust her; especially if you level too many expectations too fast.”

He frowned.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t just ‘appreciate’ accurate information, he needed it. Without it planning around a Ward and what she could and couldn’t do was an exercise in stupidity.

Even so… being aware of his limits and listening to Dragon’s input had never hurt before.

“Is there any test you believe I should conduct? Short term?

“The only test I do believe you should run would be a brain scan to examine the Gemma and Corona again to see if they've swelled or if there's more activity. I… hesitate to say this but perhaps more direct combat? Or at least full contact sparring with a Ward of Protectorate member? Her power seems to be highly reactionary from what data we've gathered. The ash idols being the foremost proof of that. They only appear when she needs them to appear. She does not have a conscious control of it.”

He leaned back in his chair, scratching at his beard.“Then what need would she subconsciously perceive in keeping ash hot to the touch? She uses it for armor and the idols...”

“No idea. I'm just informing you so, you know to keep your eyes open for more changes. Perhaps give her a mounted camera on her glasses or combat gear. It'll be far more direct at least.

He nodded.

He'd been meaning to make the Hebert girl a custom helmet with a plethora of instruments and utilities she could use. As an… apology; however unvoiced it would have to remain.

He had failed in regard to the Sophia situation, and no matter how beneficial that failure turned out to be, his inattentiveness had allowed someone to be abused to the point of triggering.

He rolled back to his workstation. “I'll just finish this and go over the data.”

He picked up his screwdriver again, swiveling the arm-mounted magnifying glass into place.

“What is it you're adding this time?”

“An experimental repulsor field, If I can get it to work, the sheer weight of the target and my swing will multiply the force of the blow to over a thousand times anything a normal human, or my armored self would be capable of.”

“It should be capable of taking down Brutes then?”

“In theory, I got the idea from something Chris designed but never finished. You know how finicky his technology can be at the best of times.”

“Colin. Did you ask him before adding this?”

...

“Colin. I suggest you go do that before continuing.”

...

“He'll say yes...”

“That's not the point, and you know it.”

...

He set down his screwdriver, sighing.

Before he could get very far in the next step of this process however, there was a knock on his door.

He blinked. Hannah and the director had gone home for the night, and outside of them, it was rare for the others to come here. “Yes?”

“It's Gallant.”

Armsmaster looked towards the clock on his computer screen. “Come in?”

The door hissed open, sliding to the side into the wall.

Colin looked at the young man. He was already dressed in his costume, “What’s wrong? You have patrol in five minutes by my clock.”

Gallant nodded. “Yes, but I’ve come up here to ask you something.” Without waiting for a reply, the youth soldiered on. “Where exactly is Hess?”

Colin frowned.

“She’s violated certain clauses in her probation and is now under stricter house arrest confinement.” He answered. “She will be called in case of emergencies and limited patrols but her freedoms both in and out of costume are severely limited.”

“Did this sudden change have anything to do with Taylor?”

To anyone else, even one without emotion detection, Colin’s pause would have been telling enough.

The veteran hero looked up, staring straight at the visor of Gallant’s helmet. “And where exactly is this question coming from?”

Gallant stared no doubt his emotion detection was giving him more cues than Armsmaster’s mostly stoic face. “Aisha’s description of ‘Psycho-bitch Trackstar’ as one of the people that bullied Taylor in Winslow enough to trigger- made me wonder…”

Colin sighed through his nostrils. Already he could feel a headache coming on, enough to make him rub at the bridge of his nose. “The situation is dealt with now.”

“Now? I saw Sophia three days ago when she joined me on patrol with Carlos. It’s been months since Winslow so what’s going on sir? Why was she still in the field? Why weren’t any of us told about this?”

“Director Piggot determined that Sophia’s skills could still be utilized in the Bay to help combat the criminal elements. Given the approaching transfer of Stormtiger and Alabaster, that may soon become necessary.” He said with a firm nod. “She is being reprimanded as deemed appropriate, Gallant.”

Colin could probably imagine Dean’s face behind the mask. “So...what? You guys decided to just help her avoid the consequences of her actions and cover it up on your end to avoid a lawsuit? Taylor has every right to know about-”

“It serves absolutely no one to bring this to light, Mr. Stansfield. You know this.”

“It serves doing what’s right! If Sophia hurt Taylor badly enough to make her Trigger, this isn’t something you just sweep under a rug ‘for everyone’s sake.’ That’s not how this works! You’ve all been lying to her from day one! You! Hannah! Everyone! You’ve been lying to all of us. This isn’t something you’re going to be able to keep from her perpetually!? How long before someone just slips for whatever reason!”

“If she finds out, we not only lose Miss Hess from the roster here, due to that we have no choice but to lose her, but very likely Miss Hebert as well in the fallout.” Colin snapped back, leaning forward.

“I’m not going to pretend that this situation isn’t a mess and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t recognize the horror of a Trigger event and the fact that we are essentially helping the person that caused one; But exposing Sophia’s actions would do absolutely nothing to help. It would do nothing for the Protectorate; it would do nothing for Miss Hebert except alienate her to you who have become her friends. Instead we’d be embroiled in a legal battle and Miss Hebert’s distrust of our system would very likely send her on the path to vigilantism or even villainy.”

There was a pause.

Colin saw Stansfield square his shoulders suddenly, his jaw no doubt setting under the helmet.

“Sir. I know you well enough to know this wasn’t done in Taylor’s interests.” He shot back.

Colin glared right back. “Can you say I’m wrong?”

“What you’re doing is not right; at the very least you have to tell Taylor. It's bound to come out eventually. It's actually a miracle it hasn’t-”

Colin shifted “The situation is sensitive Mr. Stansfield. What we do or don’t do is still being discussed. We will determine how to proceed with this situation and we will determine how best to handle Miss Hebert finding out should it come to that.”

“You can’t just-”

“Gallant.” Dragon’s voice emerged from the computer speakers, her avatar once more superimposing itself onto the screen.

The teen jerked, surprised as Colin simultaneously repressed his reaction.

He’d forgotten she was listening…

“Dragon?” Dean asked.

She nodded, her tone indicating her light smile. “Yeah. Nice to see you.”

He shifted in place. “You knew about this too?”

“No.” Colin closed his eyes. He could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of his skull. “No I didn’t. But...Galant Colin has a point.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The teen muttered, his hand rising to rub at his forehead.

“Only in that, I agree you can’t just bludgeon into this situation. Look at your emotions, Dean. You’re angry. Very much so, and you’re not even the wounded party here, are you?”

He shifted from foot to foot, sucking down a sharp breath to keep speaking before he hesitated.

“Can you imagine just how bad this will be for Taylor? How much worse will this be for her? Even coming from a friend with good intentions.”

“We can’t just keep her in the dar-”

“I promise Dean informing Taylor is something I want to do too. But if it's going to happen, it has to be done the right way or not at all. Otherwise, you’ll only end up hurting her more.

The young man looked like he would argue further then the alarm on his watch went off for his patrol.

He paused, looking at the traitorous machine.

“You’re on the clock…” Colin drawled, speaking before anything more could be said by either his fellow Tinker or the younger Hero. “If you’d like to keep on discussing this, then you’re free to come back when you’re done. If you can handle five hours of sleep and school in the morning…do not overstep your bounds here, Gallant.”

The young man looked at him, and even though Colin couldn’t see his face, the look of utter betrayal on the teen was obvious and cutting even so.

Armsmaster sighed as the door opened and closed again. This time he openly rubbed at his forehead; that headache was coming fast.

“Colin.”

The disappointment he heard in the synthesized voice was biting enough…

He spoke. “I’m not going to pretend this is...good Dragon. But can you believe me when I say it was for the best?”

“...I....I’ll believe that you believed it was for the best...but you know if you try to ignore it this very likely will come back to bite you, Colin. This...coverup is...

He took a breath, punctuating every word. “It was the best solution…”

“No, Colin. It was A solution. And one I’m sorry to see that you took.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do?” The Tinker snapped. “If we had just cut Hess and sent her to Juvie, that’s one less parahuman on our side. Sophia wouldn’t have gone quietly, she would have taken down everyone around her. Would have likely hired the Barnes attorney to stall out of spite. She’d have implicated the entire department in her criminal activity if not to anyone who would believe her, at the absolute least to Ms. Hebert herself. This. Was The Right. Call.”

“So playing keep away and lying to Miss Hebert is your only option?”

“Perfect solutions don’t work out for us. Picture it. Taylor Hebert. With her versatility and raw power. Where do you see her independently in a year? A month? I’ll tell you where I see her. Across from me, on the boardwalk aligned with E88, either coerced or willingly. In an alley with a criminal, she just killed as a vigilante. She’s better off here. No matter what we did or didn’t tell her.”

“You’re forcing the dots to connect the way you want them to, to justify what you’ve done here, Colin. Don’t.” Dragon said it with such authority Colin was almost surprised to see the amount of emotion in the woman, who he knew to be somewhat reserved, usually.

Dragon sighed. “Yes. You’re right. Taylor might have considered you an enemy. She might have been coerced or convinced into joining a villain group if she’d stayed independent. But you and I both know that is not a certainty. That is not something that was an inevitability if you hadn’t taken this course of action.”

“Not a certainty, but extremely likely.” He protested.

“Perhaps. But what also might have happened if you’d been honest with her is that she might have chosen to be a hero with the Protectorate anyway. She might have decided to join with open honesty and a solid foundation rather than this fragile house of cards you’ve built up around her. How much worse do you think this is going to be when she finds out?

“She won’t find-”

“Stop lying to yourself!” The woman demanded. “Anything could tip her off, Colin. An offhand comment or a slip of the tongue from anyone that knew Sophia’s identity. The Wards, the PRT troopers, even Victoria Dallon knows who Shadow Stalker is. Do you think nothing will come out for years? You can’t just try to ignore this, Colin. You had to know from the word go that this was untenable. You lied. Fine. You wanted Sophia and her skill-set on the team for a little while longer Or for Taylor to make friends with the other Wards so that her first impression of them wasn’t completely tarnished. Don’t keep digging the hole deeper in hopes of coming out the other side unscathed. It's time now to start digging yourself out now.”

Colin sighed loudly in frustration looking at the woman on the screen. Dragon’s soft look of admonishment was staring him dead in the face. The hero known as Armsmaster pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine…” He sighed. “I’ll talk to the director. See when we can finally come clean. When we do, I’ll bring her in privately with Hannah and myself. At least that way we can control how it comes out.” He looked at her.

She nodded. “Timetable.”

Colin blinked. “What?”

“I want a timetable.” She demanded, raising an imperious eyebrow. “I know you Colin. You’ll let yourself get sidetracked and distracted. Already you’re planning to at least delay it until after Stormtiger and Alabaster’s transport mission.”

He frowned. “Ms. Hebert’s idols could be the difference between that being a success or-”

“I’m aware. That’s why I’m not pushing it. What about after?” She demanded.

Colin ground his teeth.

…

“Ten days.” He said. “The Transport. Success or failure does not matter… and I will organize everything within ten days afterward. That should be more than enough time to be certain there won’t be another immediate emergency, and get Hess’... paperwork filed.” He promised.

She nodded. “Alright then. Though this was, as people say, pulling teeth.” Dragon shook her head, a look of disappointment in her eyes.“I’m going to go through diagnostics at the Containment Center. I’ll talk to you later. Tomorrow if you’re asleep. Goodnight, Colin.” She disconnected.

Colin sighed and covered his face with his hands as he dragged them over. Looking at the screwdriver in his fingers, he tossed it on the workbench.

He didn’t much feel like working anymore tonight.

Chapter Text

2.4

Time, as it's wont to do, inevitably rolls on, and soon enough, it was the weekend again, the bell ringing shrilly to call an end to the last class of the day.

I started gathering my books, content to let the other students start filing out to not subject myself to the crush of bodies making their way out the door and into the halls.

"So what are ya doin this weekend!?"

I jumped, almost at least, turning and blinking at the brightly smiling Vicky.

I shrugged. The action came easier now, having grown at least partially accustomed to someone being… my friend.

"Not much, was gonna hang with dad actually. I think he's lonely."

Vicky blinked. "Huh. Yeah. I guess your whole… thing musta been a big change, huh?"

I nodded, adjusting my glasses as I noted that somewhere they'd gone a little low on my nose. "What about you?" I asked, beginning to move.

Vicky shrugged. "Ehh, Probably patrol, Drag Dean somewhere. Drag Amy somewhere else. Then on Sunday or Saturday get the band back together somewhere for milkshakes or something."

I shook my head. "Don't you ever just decide to have a quiet night at home?"

She stuck her tongue out, making a sound of disgust. "Bleh. No. Home is boring. Don't tell me you can stand just sitting around watching TV?"

"TV no," I answered. "But I like to read books. I've actually got a bit of a backlog with… everything."

"Hmmm." She hummed as we reached the front doors. "Any recs?"

"What genres do you like?" I asked.

"Romance!" She said instantly. "Gimme something good!"

I shrugged. "Not my biggest thing, but I'm pretty sure I've got one or two that are decent somewhere in my library. I'll text you."

"Sweet!" Vicky smiled, and she actually seemed excited by the prospect, not just humoring me. I found myself smiling back.

Vicky blinked. "Oh. Hey. That's your old man?"

I turned, following her gaze.

It was.

Dad was waiting here, standing by the side of his old beat-up truck. He smiled at the sight of me, I smiled back.

"Yeah, it is." I answered, beginning to march down the steps of the school, Vicky following after me.

"Hey Kiddo." Dad said, eyes moving over to look at Vicky.

"Hey dad. This is Vicky, Vicky, My dad."

"Hey there Mr. Hebert." The Dallon girl smiled, holding out her hand. Dad shook it. His eyes squinting a bit.

"Sorry. I… I just swear I've seen you before." He said.

Vicky snickered. "Yeah, I bet. With a tiara and a red cape."

Dad just looked confused, then his eyes widened.

"Oh. Glory Girl?"

And yup. That was smug pride on Vicky's face.

"Yeah." I answered. "She's actually been really nice at school." I decided to add. Because credit where it was due. Vicky was not another Emma.

Dad's look of gratitude was obvious, and he smiled a bit more. "Good. I'm glad." He looked around. "Probably a stupid question, but do you need a ride or-"

"Oh no, I got my own car, and I can fly," Vicky answered. "I was just sayin good bye. It was nice to meet you Mr. Hebert. I'll catch you later Tay, alright?"

I nodded back. "Sure Vicky."

She actually started floating away. Not very 'high', not even a foot off the ground, but it was there. "I'll text you later and see if you wanna hang out." She said, apparently already forgetting our previous discussion.

I shrugged. "Alright." I looked back to Dad. "Ready to go?"

(X)(X)(X)

The Drive back home wasn't tense. But Dad told me as soon as my seatbelt was buckled that he had something to talk to me about when I got home. So I was a little on edge, even if he assured me I wasn't in trouble and it wasn't anything 'bad'.

So I'm not sure what I was expecting when I got home.

But dad handing me the casing with Mom's perfectly pristine flute inside was not it.

It took… a long time for me to swallow down the urge to cry.

"I thought Emma destroyed it." I found myself mumbling.

My father's hands were on my shoulders.

"She did."

My breath hitched, catching in my chest like a fist.

"Zoe had it restored."

I felt my eyes burn, my teeth grinding as I shut the box and wiped my eyes.

"So what. She wants to buy us dropping the lawsuit!" I snarled. I… I thought at least Zoe would-

"No," Dad answered firmly. "I wouldn't have even spoken to Zoe if the lawsuit was still ongoing."

I blinked, looking up at him. "What do you mean? It's over?"

He nodded. "Yes. Alan and Zoe pleaded out. The evidence was too overwhelming."

"So they're… forking over all the damages?"

"Around eighty percent." He nodded. "I decided to drop the twenty percent when they pushed to pay our legal fees if we simply dropped the civil suit." He shrugged. "We more or less would have come out with the same amount if he hadn't, so I figured it was good enough- civilly.

That… made sense.

"And the criminal charges?"

"I have no control over that, sweetie." He said simply. "But from what I've gathered from the prosecutor. The girls will be getting hit with something. I believe Clements has been remanded to community service, not sure how many hours. I'm not sure what's happening with the Hess girl."

"And Emma?" If anyone was getting off scot free, it would be Emma with Alan in her corner…

Dad's eyes grew sad… and I felt my stomach opening up into a yawning chasm.

He took a breath, leading me over to the dining room table and dragging a chair to sit beside me.

I sat, trying to keep calm, my fingers gripping the cherrywood box

She's gonna get away with it.

She's gonna get away with it again.

"Some things have come to light kiddo." He said slowly. "The Prosecutor was aiming for a harsh sentence at the start but-"

"Just tell me, dad." I bit out. "How's she getting away with it?"

"She's not." Dad snapped, and my eyes darted to his.

He took a breath. "Emma is… Emma's been remanded to a psychiatric facility, Taylor."

I reeled. That was… not what I was expecting.

"She's pretending to be crazy!?" I never thought she'd be desperate enough to brand herself with that label.

Dad shook his head. "No Taylor. Emma is crazy. At least as far as the court doctor testified in her trial."

I blinked.

"I…" I trailed off.

A part of me should have expected this, I realize. People don't just change over a single two-week stint so drastically without something being wrong but…

I…

"I guess I never thought it'd be true," I mumbled, more to myself than him, my eyes trailing down towards the flute. "I… she spent so long saying that I was… weak that she had to throw me away-"

I spent so long thinking there was something wrong with me…

But there was something wrong with her…

Not me.

Dad's hand rubbed at my shoulder.

"Zoe told me what happened." He said. "When she brought the flute. She wanted to explain. She didn't know either. Not until recently."

I didn't answer.

"Would you… Like to hear it?"

My fingers hurt. Gripping the box.

"Does it change anything?" I asked.

…

"It might help." He answered after a long heavy silence.

I sucked down a breath I'm ashamed to admit is far too shaky for my liking.

"She's done this before," I confessed. "The 'I'm sorry' play. It was never real then. Why's this any different? Just her playing for different stakes?"

Maybe I was being irrational. Maybe I was being petty. Or paranoid. Zoe hadn't been involved. And I'd like to think at least someone in that family remembered me as something you didn't just scrape off your shoe.

Dad's hand squeezed my shoulder.

(X)(X)(X)

I spent the weekend at home.

Given my on-site presence four days a week, sixteen hours a day, it was easy to arrange my schedule so the other Wards could cover the weekend days when I wasn't around since I was taking so many shifts Monday through Thursday.

That didn't mean I was wholly cut out of the loop for three days, or blind to what was happening.

The Wards, Vicky, and some small short conversations I had with Miss Militia painted an accurate enough picture, as did the local news.

People accuse the PRT and Brockton Bay Protectorate of playing a game.

They said that there was a revolving door on Parahuman captures. That they were simply incompetent and couldn't hold criminals in prison even if their lives depended on it.

Once upon a time, I may have been one of those people.

Being on the other side of things… really opens your eyes to reality.

Criminals needed to be processed. Parahuman criminals were no exception.

Between their arrest, booking, sentencing, appeals and other legal remedies all needing to be carried out largely 'in absentia' given that they could not be removed from their secure containment on the Rig, the process of getting a Parahuman convicted took weeks and that was when they were being fast in the process.

Now, one might ask, how does this contribute to the PRT being incapable of holding them long term? Of Transporting them to a High-security prison?

The criminals are in jail; they can't get out. The heroes are fine. So how does this matter?

It matters because while the criminals are in jail, the PRT still has work to do.

And the other criminals knew it.

The whole Protectorate + PRT couldn't just… call in sick. Give a doctor's note or something saying, "Sorry, need to rest up for the big prison transport day will help later."

No, they had a job to do, and they had to do it constantly.

Someone reported Hookwolf down by lords street. PRT had to answer it.

Someone reported a Gang Fight between ABB and E88; even without Parahuman sightings, PRT had to answer it. Because Parahumans COULD show up.

Someone reported  Cricket killing someone in an alley PRT had to respond, even if it turned out not to be Cricket at all.

The PRT had to respond to everything, and the gangs knew enough to make them respond.

In the weeks leading up to the transport of Alabaster and Stormtiger, I watched and listened and ground my teeth in helpless frustration as I watched the PRT and protectorate being run completely ragged.

Twenty-seven different calls requesting Parahuman assistance across the city in an hour. Thirty seven other calls deemed to be completely false flags meant to do nothing more than waste time.

There were twelve cape 'fights' in just one week with the E-88. Fights that the Protectorate needed to respond to be called out of their homes or their daily lives for, only for the cape in question to beat a swift retreat once things started getting even remotely hairy.

And even if there were no 'Cape captures,' that didn't mean there were no captures at all.

Low-level hitters, pushers, gang members. These could be caught. And they needed to be processed too.

Process meant staying on scene until proper transport arrived. It meant filing incident reports. It meant filling out paperwork. Dates, Times, records, taking witness statements, corroborating filed evidence with new evidence for discrepancies; bringing the director up to speed, giving answers to potential depositions when they lawyered up.

It meant wasting time. It meant less rest. It meant more time where the E-88 ground the heroes down without ever lifting a finger before the first punch had even been thrown.

And all the while, the Wards, on paper, weren't allowed to help.

It was infuriating.

The E-88 could choose their fights. They could choose when, where, how, and how far they took those fights. And they could cycle through their roster of capes to keep the pressure up without risking the same level of exhaustion ever becoming a concern for them.

After all, I doubted Hookwolf went back home and filed a fucking report on how many people he killed or injured when he was done.

And before the day was out, any injuries the villain group had were cleared right up by Othala.

The PRT had NONE of those options. They were forced into engagements, and they were forced to employ the same capes over and over again. And not just for the E-88, because the ABB and Merchants weren't quiet with the increased activity either.

So no. I realize now it's not fair to say the PRT ENE is 'incompetent'

They're just so unbelievably outnumbered it's a miracle the city hasn't completely crumbled into the sea by now.

The ONLY thing that was even remotely leveling the playing field- Was me.

Because now the PRT had a healer of their own.

Panacea, of course, could do this. But she had other responsibilities. And was a cape that was not affiliated with the PRT. Calling her meant calling New Wave. It meant owing an independent Hero group favors in more ways than one.

I didn't have that baggage.

Granted, it wasn't as convenient as Othala's, or as absolute as Amy's.

I couldn't heal with a touch, nor could I really do it without… hurting myself, but I could heal groups of people with just one statue. And as long as I stayed close to it it didn't deactivate. At least none I'd made so far had.

I hadn't mastered it. I still couldn't summon them on demand.

But a cut across the hand that bit down to the bones was simple enough..

Armsmaster had looked grim but offered me his thanks, as the warm light eased the aches and pains of the troopers that passed by and possibly some of the Protectorate capes that came as well.

I know it's not the best way for this to work, but until I figured out how to bring them about when I wanted them, not just when I needed them I would just have to deal with the… uncomfortable connotations.

I sure as hell wasn't telling Dad how it worked, that's for sure.

The downside was it didn't work for mental exhaustion, and while I was keeping the team 'fit' even my amateur eye could see they were getting close to the breaking point, healing or no healing.

Soon enough, the Wards needed to fill in more and more 'Protectorate' level duties.

Patrols in worse parts of town, responding to low priority calls with unconfirmed cape sightings, supporting PRT troopers when they intervened with someone with a four or lower on the threat scale.

It was adding up. More than that, it was ramping up as the day loomed closer and closer.

(X)(X)(X)

 When the day to transport Stormtiger and Alabaster came, it came quick.

The Judge's gavel had barely banged on the bench before Armsmaster called everyone 'fit for duty to show up.

Protectorate, PRT troopers, and the Wards.

Of course everyone being 'Fit for duty' was a qualifying statement.

Triumph, Assault, Battery, and Miss Militia were the only Protectorate capes present. Velocity and Dauntless had been taking three days worth of overtime to try and give the other five enough respite to be here and in relatively top form.

The Wards were equally short-staffed. I was here; of course, so was Aegis, Vista, Clock and if rumors were to be believed, Stalker was also on her way.

All targets that, technically speaking, could either utterly avoid risk to themselves or shrug off potentially fatal attacks.

The plan was still, in broad strokes, the same as it had been for Armsmaster's preliminary plan.

The Protectorate engages the 'big targets.

The PRT troopers are a wall of warm bodies with containment foam and bullets to stop anyone that slipped past the Heroes.

And the Wards, in theory, should have anyone that got past those two main groups outnumbered at the absolute least.

If that didn't happen. If the Wards were engaged by more than two Parahumans or 'A number of unpowered criminals that would endanger the wellbeing of the Wards, ' we were supposed to retreat immediately.

The main 'change' in the plan was that Miss Militia would be staying with the Wards to act as the commander, rather than leaving it up to Aegis given the dynamic situation and the fact that no one could really be sure How many capes were going to be here for this breakout.

If the Wards needed to retreat, she would make the call.

The main roads were closed off to the public and cleared by the cops. If something were to happen, there'd be less risk of collateral damage.

Even with this state of emergency and 'all hands on deck, I noted that Armsmaster was keeping Shadow Stalker firmly away from me and the other Wards, riding in a wholly separate truck.

Even so, I put that situation out of my mind soon enough. Riding in one of the transports with Vista, Clock, and Aegis. Four other PRT troopers were with us as I felt my stomach open into a flutter of nervousness.

It was only because of the constant check-ins that I knew where the hell we even were by the time things started happening.

We were just at the city's outskirts. Where the wall of buildings 'ended' and more 'open' highway began.

The sniper round ripped through the tire of the first truck, all but destroying the front right of the vehicle, making the whole column stop.

I heard panicked shouts and Armsmaster calmly barking orders into the comlinks as everyone started moving.

Console; now being manned by an experienced  PRT comms officer rather than one of the Ward sor Heroes- started relaying confirmed sightings and locations of approaching threats. As Armsmaster succinctly and quickly dispatched his 'resources' to answer.

The weapon that damaged the lead Vehicle it's on the Chem-banks building to the North east. Take cover. Break Line of sight from it if possible Approximately on the twelfth story. Be advised, shot likely taken by Victor. Probability of Othala's enhancements high. 

Assault, Battery, we have a confirmed sighting of Kaiser, Fenja, and Menja approaching from the main highway ahead of us. Intercept

Triumph approaching from the South; Krieg, and Crusader run interference if possible.

Hookwolf confirmed sighting- I'm going to intercept with Ward Shadow Stalker. 

And just like that, a minor war seemed to erupt all around us.

Miss Militia took command from there, giving out orders to the surrounding troopers and the Wards as a whole. I heard the squeal of tires, dozens of cars and trucks, and everything just bursting with E-88 unpowered gang members. They all opened fire and turned this stretch of highway into the third world war.

PRT troopers made barricades out of containment foam. Shot out tires and let loose with tear gas and flashbang grenades in retaliation

More than once I saw Aegis stopping himself from rushing to join the fray even as Vista stretched and shrank space around the troopers to give them an edge.

And still more kept on coming.

They always say that the E-88 is the largest gang in the city.

You don't really appreciate it until you see a quarter of the PRT's entire troop division getting swarmed, and then there are ten more cars to spare rushing in to bring more gang members right up to you.

I allowed my ash to move. The cloak around my shoulders vanished to form a wall of unbreakable gray.

The lead car smashed into it, the others rushing to get around it.

Vista stretched the space of the car's hood, the fuel, engine, and oil suddenly needing to be pumped through a mile of cords and tubes rather than just a few feet.

The car sputtered and died; another had the engine block suddenly shrunk, the whole hood exploding in flames, much to the panic of the occupants.

Clock planted himself in front of one, touching the vehicle before it could swerve out of the way. All the men inside were suddenly trapped, the car slamming to a top as the men inside were thrown about like straw dolls.

There was a spray of gunfire trailing up to Clock, and I saw him turn himself inviolable as the bullets kept rising to take potshots at him.

Aegis rushed in Miss Militia, cursing as the green of her weapon whorled in the air, settling on a monstrous handgun.

The PRT troops were moving to reposition, space distorting to shorten the distance, the unpowered men and women rushing to try and actually shield us.

Damnit! Triumph here. Crusader's gotten past me. Krieg is keeping me busy. I can't intercept!.

Be advised, Victor confirmed on site on his way to the engagement with Rune, riding telekinetically held platforms, approaching from the Chem building.

I spared a glance in that direction, seeing that, yes, there were at least five platforms moving towards us, and two of them had 'riders.'

Armsmaster here, be advised Hookwolf is retreating, but Night and Fog have joined this engagement. I am unable to disengage to provide assistance. Ward Shadow Stalker has been ordered to quit the field immediately. Fog is targeting her!

"Miss Militia here-" I heard the Kurdish woman call. "All Wards pull-"

The rest of Miss Militia's sentence was cut off because, leaping from yet another vehicle filled with E-88 members, Cricket literally leapt from the back seat. Knives and sickles in hand.

My ash moved, circling through the air to try and catch the woman with the mass of gray before something made my whole stomach lurch, nausea violently cramping my guts and nearly making me throw up inside my mask/helmet.

Distantly I recognized troopers stumbling, falling or indeed, throwing up themselves as the Nazi woman darted forward, making a beeline straight for Miss Militia.

I heard the cracking of bones, the ashen idol appearing in front of me, cutting off my line of sight before I stumbled to get around it.

Miss Militia's gun barked once, and Cricket twisted in mid-air, avoiding the shot entirely before Militia's weapon transformed into a single trench knife, Cricket's sickle screeching as it met the weapon. The villain's free hand drew a knife, darting out to try and slice open Militia's stomach with it.

The Kurdish woman moved then, her knee coming up to crack against Cricket's wrist, hard enough to dislodge the knife.

Aegis here, attempting to intercept villain Crusader!

I moved to rush forward on shaking, stumbling legs trying to help before a slab of stone careened down, slamming into me with the force of a train.

It knocked me down, punching the wind out of me as I coughed and sputtered, Victor leaping from his perch as he shouted an order at Rune, rushing to join the fray against Miss Militia.

Cricket was fast, unnaturally graceful, and Victor was skilled, but somehow the woman seemed to keep up with both of them.

Her weapon shifted, transforming mid-swing from a knife to a war hammer. The swing's sheer speed barely has time to change with the sudden weight difference. The hammer clanged hard against the cage covering Cricket's skull.

The head of the weapon was nearly tangled in the now sundered openings before the energy dispersed and reformed again, turning into a gun as she fired on Victor, who had to duck out of the way. Another swing and she was nearly taking Crickets' leg with a long saber, the blade turning into a tower shield as Victor returned fire before it whorled into a sub-machine gun that spat half a magazine at the man before it rounded on Cricket, forcing both villains to back up.

"Wards Retreat! Now!" The woman barked.

My heart stuttered in my chest, concern lancing through me.

I heard Vista hissing through the comm line. "We're not just leaving you here!"

Miss Militia didn't have time to answer, lunging behind one of the armored trucks to avoid a hail of gunfire from the unpowered humans who'd broken through the PRT line.

"Fuckin sand nigger bitch!"

My blood boiled, and the ash swirling around me rushed forward, and suddenly three men were too busy having their skin sanded down by a whirling storm of ash to think about shooting!

Wards this is Console. You are not authorized to engage a threat level this high. Your presence was always to be a deterrent force not a combat force. As the acting commander on scene Miss Militia has given the order, Disengage immediately!

"Vista." Aegis called. "Get the team out. South Western side is clear. Let's move."

"We can get Miss Militia!" I insisted on watching as Cricket re-engaged the Protectorate Heroine. Victor was now rushing with Rune towards the Armored prisoner transport holding Stormtiger and Alabaster.

She'd be outnumbered six to one once Crusader gets here! "If we leave without her the Empire's going to kill her!"

Wards I repeat. You are not authorized to engage at this threat level. Your commanding officer on site has given you an order-

I heard Miss Militia scream.

And I didn't listen to much else.

I sprinted across the stretch of highway between my car and the other, ignoring Aegis, Galant or the others shouting behind me, leaping onto and over the roof of the car.

I saw Miss Militia immediately.

One of her eyes was shut in pain, Cricket's sickle carving into and through her forearm, its curved hook-like point emerging out the other end.

I could see the Nazi grinning, pulling on the blade in a way that sliced the tear wider, scraped against bone, disabling one arm with as much pain as possible.

Miss Militia's other hand was holding onto Cricket's free wrist, keeping a knife at bay.

I saw the green energy shift, a gun forming in the hand that was gored on Cricket's sickle.

Cricket's eyes widened in surprise.

The gun went off.

Cricket howled, blood exploding out of the side of her head as her ear was shorn off by the grazing shot, the metal cage around her head squealing as metal tore and rent itself.

The sickle was yanked across Militia's forearm in a shower of gore and viscera, the pain making Militia's other arm slip as Cricket slashed across the Heroine's stomach.

My own scream sounded distant in my ears.

Cricket's gaze snaps over to me as Miss Militia falls down. The heroine is hissing as she presses herself against the side of the truck.

The Nazi woman is stumbling, her preternatural grace seemingly absent, one hand rising to what would have been a ringing ear, blood staining her pasty white skin.

My ash surges.

She tries to move, to dodge.

I don't let her.

The ash around me is a weapon, but so is my armor.

I'll recognize it as a stupid move later, but I don't care.

This Nazi bitch tried to kill Miss Militia!

Most of my armor sloughs off me, and as Cricket rushes to dodge left or right, ashen walls box her in. She's scrambling, rushing to leap off the surfaces only for them to suddenly become soft, letting her foot and leg sink into the mass of ash, trapping her.

Then I start grinding.

Cricket screams silently. A wheeze of air through a ruined voice box, trying to force herself free as I make my ash chew through her trapped legs.

Her eyes snap to me, hands drawing a knife, ready to throw.

I don't let her.

The ash rushes forward, grabbing her wrists and arms.

I squeeze.

The sound of broken bones and Cricket convulsing like a worm on a hook snaps me out of my rage. I let her go, suddenly horrified, the ash rushing back to me.

A shot rings out, the hit cracking against my, once again armored shoulder and I pitch to the side, off the roof of the car to land heavily on my back.

Victor runs in, Alabaster and Stormtiger right behind him as he leaps off the side of the overpass, and all five Nazis are suddenly rushing away on Rune's platforms.

There's still fighting happening. Unpowered thugs have to run the old-fashioned way, but as I hear Armsmaster and the others calling in that the Empire capes are retreating I start scrambling to move, rushing towards Miss Militia.

The woman's arm is a ruin. A jagged, shorn hole is carved into her limb. Blood is pouring from the wound, but I can almost see straight through to the other side.

Her stomach looks just as bad.

"It looks worse than it is." She assures me.

I look at her.

She smiles, though more likely it's a pained grimace under the mask.. "I'll be fine, hun."

I shake my head.

I look down, finding the backup knife in the woman's boot.

I don't hesitate.

Reaching for the knife, I can see her confusion, and then sudden alarm as I peel the ash off my hand and stab myself straight through my palm.

"Ta-Ashburn!" She screams, then coughs.

It doesn't matter.

The bones crack. The fires burn. The whispers come.

The healing energies wash over her, and I see them taking effect, feeling relief even as I remind myself to pull the knife out of my hand.

When her hands grab my shoulders, her grip feels like iron, even through the ashen armor.

Her eyes are wide, not angry. It's close to anger, But not exactly.

"Don't ever do that!"

I cringe. "You were hurt!"

"I told you it looked worse than it was!" She shouted back.

"Well, it looked bad alright!?

"Armsmaster is already on his way. His equipment could have stopped the bleeding long enough for me to reach Panacea. Or Clock could have frozen me entirely if it was really desperate!"

"Well, I didn't know that!" Now I was shouting. "You were hurt and I could help!"

She glares at me, and I can't see the lines of her face under the bandana as she shakes her head.

"You are more important than your power." She repeats. "Your heart is in the right place Taylor. I know that. But I want you to promise me… you won't do this as the FIRST OPTION!" She's screaming by the end.

I've never heard her scream.

"But I-"

"This isn't up for debate!" She hissed, cutting me off and the look in her eyes reminded me, oddly, of Dad. "You do not hurt yourself out of… expedience! Never again! You promise me. Right now. Or my next act as soon as I get back to base is to recommend you off the Wards program!"

My eyes widened a spike of something that wasn't quite shock and wasn't quite fear cutting through me.

Whatever look she saw in me, it made her features soften.

"Promise me." She implored.

I didn't trust my voice, and I refused to let the stinging behind my eyes turn into tears as I nodded.

I could still hear the whispers of my idol. Still feel the heat of the flames and the feeling of its soothing healing pulses.

But all I could hear was Miss Militia's heart and the warmth of her skin as she hugged me tightly.

…

"Miss Militia here." I hear her whisper. "Be advised. Ashburn healing idols present near center of transport column."

(X)(X)(X)

"Are you joking!"

In the face of my incredulous anger, Piggot seems remarkably unphased.

"Have I given you the impression that I joke often Miss Hebert!"

"You're punishing me for saving Miss Militia!?" I'm not sure if this qualifies as shouting yet. "That's bullshit!" The profanity is unprofessional. I know it won't win me any points in this argument but it's out of my mouth before I even realized I was about to say it.

"I'm punishing you-" Piggot bites out. "Because your actions exceeded several forms of acceptable force!" Now she's definitely shouting and the heavy *stamp* of her fingers slamming down onto keyboard keys does a remarkable job of emphasizing her anger.

An image pops up on the nearby wall, a video, shaky cam, but as shaky as it was I could still see, very clearly an image of myself just a few hours ago, flaying the skin off of Cricket's legs and crushing her arms like twigs.

Despite myself, I wince; seeing her moving in twisting, desperate pain is… horrifying.

"That," Piggot snarls. "Has been making the rounds on PHO as of forty-seven minutes ago."

"Ma'am." Carlos says, stepping up beside me. "That was likely taken by one of the unpowered E-88 members."

"Do you think that matters?" Piggot hisses. "All the public sees is a Ward torturing a restrained prisoner in broad daylight."

Her baleful glare rounds on me. "So Yes, Ms. Hebert. Remedial courses. All centered around acceptable force! If that seems like a punishment for you; perhaps I can arrange for you to head down to image department and start doing their jobs. Now that they're working overtime covering for you!"

I want to protest. Argue Cricket had been ready to kill Militia! Broken bones was the least I could have done. Did everyone forget I could make fires that immolated damn near anything in seconds?

But there was no point. Even I've known Piggot long enough to know that arguing will get nowhere with her.

My fists clench, and I have to force the words out. "When is this supposed to start?"

"Tomorrow." She answers. "And I want your incident reports on my desk by tonight. Now you're excused. I need to hear from Aegis why he chose to engage Crusader in one on one combat as opposed to assisting Miss Militia himself given that he can somewhat contest both Victor and Cricket. Or better yet retreat as he was ordered to"

I stood up, tossing Aegis a look that he stoically ignored in favor of keeping his eyes dead ahead as I marched out.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

2.5

"How do I get her off of my butt. Literally"

The words brought me up short, and I almost jerked where I was standing. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said," Kid Win sighed as he was hovering over the rooftops on his board. "How do I get her off me. Aisha. The girl is a… horny handful!"

"Well, she's interested in you," I replied, looking up at him from the sidewalk, strolling the rows of shops on the Boardwalk. I looked to the side, seeing my reflection in the glass windows.

I changed my ash armor daily. It was a little bit of...vanity...and a little bit of curiosity and an interest in just mixing and matching. Some days I have more armor around my legs. Some around my chest. My fingers usually had claws.

Dean got on my case, and Dennis made jokes, but I liked how it looked, so they could just be ignored on this issue.

The big change though, usually was my helmet. Typically the change was just skin deep, so to speak; maybe one day, my helmet had Raven-style wings. On others it'd be a bat. Maybe one day it'd have a dragon-style motif. Sometimes with a T-shaped visor, others with a V.

This time though, the upgrade was a lot more significant.

Instead of a normal PRT issued helmet under the ash; this one was handed to me just the other day by Armsmaster after we did another Power Test Session.

The Helmet was customized just for me. It had a built-in communicator that could connect to the PRT communications and Police Dispatch, a black visor with a Heads-Up Display with my heartbeat and vital signs, and those of my Ward teammates nearby.

A simple disk-shaped 'map' of sorts showed how distant they were from me in a diameter of around thirty-five meters.

A temperature sensor to view how hot my fire and ashen Idols were growing and a full visual spectrum. And the Night vision lenses were designed to block out bright lights automatically so no glaring off my retinas by using my fire.

So it was like the old glasses. But more professional and hero-ish and...a million times more awesome.

It was… definitely a highlight of the week so far.

Between the 'remedial courses' on excessive force and PHO basically exploding to debate whether I was a sadist, totally justified, or a 'Pussy who shoulda finished the job' Armsmaster's gift was definitely a notable plus side to this whole… mess.

"Yeah but still, I mean, I appreciate it but...like...I'm…" Kid Win sounded unsure, his voice dragging me back to the previous conversation. .

"You're what?" I asked him, waving at some passers-by.

They waved back a little stiffly, staring.

"I mean, is Aisha cute? Yeah...hell, she's kinda hot...she's peppy, funny, but...is she just messing with me?"

I paused.

I… hadn't considered that.

Stupid of me. Winslow was the kind of place where leading someone along would be 'funny'

Was Aisha like that? I'd like to think not, and she'd been honest with me but…

"Maybe ask Dean?" I ventured with a hesitant shrug. "He might be able to tell you for sure?"

"Maybe." He groused.

"You think you'll go out with her if she's not messing with you?"

"I… think so." The admission seemed to pain him. Like someone confessing they really really really wanted to pet the man-eating tiger or something.

I chortled at the mental image. "Well, I-" I cut myself off. "We got a call." The communicator in my new helmet crackled to life with the voice it was from Battery. The two of us instantly shut up and listened in.

"Black woman assaulted pretty badly. En route to the hospital now."

"Suspect??" Miss Militia's voice this time.

"Before she passed out, she described the perp as white. Shaved head. So likely E88"

"Location?"

"Found by the boardwalk, a couple blocks north of downtown near the shopping district. The person that called the police called as the attack was taking place so Empire boy couldn't have gotten very far. Probably ran when he heard the sirens. Attack happened when the woman, Andrea Young, was just getting done at her part-time job and walking home."

We are in the vicinity. My hand went to my helmet, but Kid beat me to it.

"This is Kid Win and Ashburn. We're by the boardwalk. Search and Intercept?"

"Affirmative. You two know the drill." Battery signed off, and me, and Kid Win looked at each other.

"Ladies first?" Kid Win gestured as his hoverboard kicked up into the sky.

I started jumping, hopping buildings with ease, hearing the whine of Kid Win's board overhead.

I leapt, arms flailing as I jumped to the ground, landing on the sidewalk and continuing my run unhurt. I'd have to practice to make that look a bit more graceful.

We advanced a few blocks, our eyes panning over the streets as best we could, searching for any sign. Bloodied knuckles, a bloodied shirt, even a slightly harried or nervous-looking bald guy that would fit the E88 look.

During the search, we jumped at a loud noise of crashing and clanging. It was quite a ways off, but it was still loud.

I looked to Kid, and he hefted a laser pistol.

Moving forward, I dropped down to street level and moved as quietly as I could, Kid was on the roof, ready to shoot down with his lasers once I was in position.

"Ready." He whispered.

"Yeah," I answered, my back hugging the wall.

"Now!"

I swiveled around, hands lighting up in flames, and...stopped.

"Fuck fuckity fuck fuck!" The person in the alley was on her knees checking a person's pulse.

"Glory Girl?" I asked, the New Wave heroine flinching as if lightning shot down her spine.

"Oh...hey Ashburn. What's up?" She asked, laughing nervously as I approached, the look on her face akin to a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Kid Win landed behind her and looked down.

"Vicky?" He asked before looking down at the man slumped against the wall. "You-"

I found myself looking between the New Wave Heroine and the crook. "What happened here?"

The blonde stood up, hand behind her head, scratching it.

"Well...c-can it wait? I need to call Amy. He's hurt bad."

"Is he a cape?" Kid Win asked, pointing at the dumpster that I now noted had a very distinct handprint in the metal with scrapes and scratch marks on the pavement under it.

"No, he isn't...that was me." Glory Girl sighed in defeat as she got out her phone, probably looking at her map as she murmured, "where am I…" My eyes went up in surprise.

"How hard did you hit him?" I asked, then looked down. "Oh crap! Is he dead?" Could Panacea even fix this?

"He pissed me off, okay! Stupid skinhead." She put her phone to her ears. ""Hey, sis? Yeah...well...I uh...kinda sorta-messed up." She winced and I could almost hear Amy's shrill voice on the other side of the phone. "Yeah. Look, I'm sorr-" She sighed. "Ok, can we talk about this later? Yeah. I'm at Spayder and Rock. There's this little road that runs behind the buildings. Right by the boardwalk, yeah. Yeah? Thanks."

As Vicky was talking I heard and saw Kid walk aways off, likely spinning a… less damaging story to Console, at least until we had a handle on what the hell happened.

I knelt by him. All Wards learned quick first aid, but this was...damn…

"How is he?" Chris asked, returning;

I switched on my helmet's diagnostic function. God and Scion above praise Armsmaster and Tinker-tech.

"Broken collar bone, shoulder blade, cracked hip joint. Lacerated spleen.Two cracks in his spine..."

"Mother of fuck." Victoria cursed. I turned on her.

"You nearly killed him!" I heard Kid exclaim. I closed my eyes, a headache pounding at my skull.

"I know alright! Damnit, should have taken care of it faster, maybe slapped him. Wouldn't talk shit with a broken jaw…" She muttered as she leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"How did you find out about-" Kid Win paused, sighing in open aggravation as he answered his own question. "God damnit, Gallant."

…

Oh, for fucks sake.

Dean really has to keep his lid shut on stuff like this.

"Hey! He didn't tell me alright! You think New Wave doesn't have its own police scanners or people that call us in the department? I was the one who found the girl he beat up! I was already on this before you guys were even here."

"Vicky, this went way over the line here. He's a normal." Kid sighed, rubbing at his face.

"I didn't mean to! I...I snapped okay." She sighed, hand to her head. "He called me...See You Next Tuesday."

My face scrunched up in confusion. "See you next-Ohhhhhhhh."

Yeah, that… was a bit of a berserk button. Even the Trio hadn't called me that. Not yet at least..

But...still. "This was too much, Vicky, even if he...called you by that word. this went way too far.." I shook my head. That just about summed it up it seems.

"Oh damnit Ash! You know how this crap is!" Glory Girl tilted her head. "Don't pretend I'm the only one that ever hit a normal too hard. You almost flayed some ABB guys with an ash cloud on your first night out! And pretty much turned Cricket's arms into ground beef when she pissed you off! Don't stand there and pretend I'm the bad guy here! You have no right!"

I was taken aback, my mouth clicked shut…

"Victoria?" Both of us turned towards the alley, seeing Panacea in her white robes approaching. She stopped as she saw us, her pale face a little paler."What are you two doing here?" The tone of her voice was clipped and sharp.

"We were in the area, and we heard about the attack" Kid Win filled in for me. Panacea seemed to understand the context and sighed.

"God damnit, Gallant."

"Oh for the love of Scion, leave Gallant alone! He wasn't the one who told me and if he had he'd just be trying to help!" Glory Girl shouted.

I could feel her intimidation aura slamming over us. My own warmth power quickly countered the effects before the foreign influence could take hold. I saw Kid swallow hard, looking away.

Amy didn't say a word, marching past us to place her hand on the goon's face. She let out a hiss that could have been a curse in and of itself. "For fuck's sake Vicky!"

"I'm sorry alright!? Look just...fix him up ok."

Amy turned, glaring at her sister. She opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to remember we were still standing there and clicked it shut.

Three seconds later- "Done. Broken bones are fixed. Left the cuts and bruises though"

Victoria turned to us breathing far easier it seemed. "Ok...Right. Its done then. You guys...er."

I blinked. I knew where this was going. "You don't want us to tell anyone what happened?"

Kid shifted where he stood, and suddenly the tense atmosphere of the alley became a choking mess of apprehension.

"Please guys. This was a mistake. An accident. I...if this got loose…"

Kid frowned, his look sad. "New Wave was supposed to be about accountability Vicky."

"I am New Wave." She snapped, hands rising up to thread through her hair. "Me and Amy; that's all that's left! Dad barely goes out, mom's behind a desk, Crystal's in college...everyone that's supposed to be New Wave is just off doing their own thing. I'm the one that comes out here, day after day, and still tries to do something. It was an accident. And it was just a Nazi for gods sake! Everything I've done can't be outweighed by this piece of garbage!"

Her voice was shrill as she ended her rant, tears were prickling at her eyes as she panted, shutting her eyes tight as she pleaded. "Guys… Please"

Amy stood, looking at the two of us. "Look. He's fixed. This is done. This won't happen again ok? Just let it go. We'll take this guy to the cops and move on with our lives. He's not worth the BS for any of us. The public outcry would destroy New Wave and Vicky! It's just a Nazi."

Public outcry…

That's what they were worried about. That was their concern. Not that Victoria almost killed somebody. Probably would have killed somebody if her sister didn't have these specific healing powers.

Public outcry...

I shook my head. I couldn't do this right now. Couldn't deal with this.

I turned, stalking out of the alley, and had to struggle to not run out rather than walk ignoring Kid and Vicky as they called after me.

It was minutes later that I heard the thrum of Kid Win's hoverboard behind me, and we stopped.

"You ok?"

I shrugged, shoulders rising before slumping back down."Are we going to report this or not?" I asked.

"I…" He sighed. "I don't know...I mean...it is a Nazi and they said this was a first time mistake… The last thing we need is to hurt the good guys by giving some E88 goon ammo to shoot out Glory Girl's wings…"

I nodded...it made sense…

I still felt...filthy.

Its just a Nazi Taylor…

Just a Nazi.

Same as it had been Just Taylor.

Just that nerdy girl when measured against the Trackstar and local high school model. I was just that insignificant when looked at next to them…

I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't discriminate… The comparison was superficial but it was there.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

I…

"I'm going home...after patrol."

"You have to report in-"

"You handle it...I'm going home."

I couldn't do it….I could not do it. I would not sit there and lie bold-faced to cover this up right now.

My disgust was warring with my anger, my disappointment, and my sadness. I could feel it churning in my gut.

I wasn't going to deal with this right now.

Kid didn't look at me, but I caught his nod out of the corner of my eye and his whispered "Ok."

"Let's just….get this over with." I sighed.

(X)

We finished our shift on patrol and made it back to the PRT HQ without much of a word.

Chris de-costumed and went to give his report, and I went to the Wards dorm to get my stuff.

It was late and quiet. I was hungry, but didn't want to settle in and eat.

I went up the stairs. I could hear the lull of Missy's low-volume pop music from behind her door, and I went to my room. I sent my ash into a sealed and pressurized container and closed the lid shut. I removed my watch and helmet and placed it to the side.

Then I picked up my cell phone.

He answered after the first ring.

"Hey, kiddo. What's up? It's a little late. You've got school tomorrow."

"Hey, dad. Can...can you come pick me up?."

"...What happened?" His tone was strange. I didn't have the energy to place it but it was close to angry...or seemed like it. Maybe worried too.

"Nothing happened…" I shook my head. "I'd just really like to go home today."

A slight pause.

"I'm on my way."

"Thanks, dad. I'll...meet you at the boardwalk, I guess."

"No. You stay there. I'll jump through the hoops and talk to the checkpoint people. There's no traffic at this hour so I'll be there soon."

I nodded, then I hung up and got my backpack and books for tomorrow's' classes, and left the dorm. I didn't see Chris.

I grabbed my phone again. Hesitated. But after a moment decided to send the message. I didn't need them freaking out about me leaving without a word.

Going back home for the night. Will be back tomorrow after school.

I sent the text. Didn't get an immediate response. Hopefully Hannah would catch it late enough that I could avoid twenty questions.

Soon enough, I walked out the front doors, PRT guards and personnel were either coming or going with the shift changes. I moved quickly to avoid any that might want to ask. Walking down to the main gate and waiting at the curb.

About ten minutes later, I saw my dad drive up the bridge and around the loop here by the main gate. He parked right in front of me as I jogged up and opened the door to get into the passenger seat.

"Hey, Taylor."

"Hey, dad." I responded as I buckled up and felt him drive down the ramp. There was no traffic at this hour.

"So, you wanna talk?" He asked, looking at me.

I shrugged. Didn't say anything. It was unfair, I know he's only trying to help, but this isn't a conversation I want.

We drove on in an awkward quiet.

Dad pulled up into a Quick-Stop drive-through. "What do you want? Number three or number five?"

Even though my diet plan told me to stay away from fast foods...I can indulge once.

"Three. It's too late for spicy."

By the time we arrived back at the house it was already past midnight. Thankfully we managed to talk on SOME things, mainly how my school has been going and what my friends have been up to.

Dad opened the door and we walked inside and I settled down on the couch and dad sat next to me.

"Okay. So, we had dinner. We talked on school and friends. I'm glad to hear they're doing well. So how bout we talk about what's bothering you?" Dad said as he focused his attention squarely on me.

The frown came back as the subject matter reared its head again.

"Taylor. Please don't think you have to keep secrets from me again…"

I winced.

It took me a moment. A lot longer than it should have really. But I did eventually start talking. "Well...at school. One of my friends...well, two actually, they did something...bad."

"Bad as in..."

"Well..." I measured my words. Trying to make it gender-neutral. It wouldn't take a genius to link something like this to Victoria, considering I was the only other female Brute in the bay.

Wait...does Battery count as a brute?

I shook my head. "There was a fight. Words were exchanged. Shoving here and there. And...my friend got a little carried away."

"What did your friend do?"

"Well...the bad guy got a lot more hurt than he should have. Like...I don't even know… Let's just say it was that bad and leave it there."

Dad didn't say anything.

I had to fight to stop myself from wringing my hands like some nervous wreck... "Anyways, another friend of mine came, and I saw what happened and...well, no one else knows about it…"

Dad took a deep breath through his nose. Looks like he'd caught on to what the issue was.

"No one knows." I continued. "Only me and the friend that was with me. And I just...don't know what to do. I was asked not to tell because it would cause a lot of problems for…My friend... But how is that different from Winslow, where everyone covered for Emma, Sophia, and Madison?"

Dad took a deep breath, removed his glasses, and picked at his eyes a little. "Oh boy…" He muttered as he seemed to be deep in thought.

For a long time, neither of us said anything, just sitting in the half-dark living room, the light from the kitchen filtering in on us.

Then he said the very last words I wanted to hear from him right now.

"I don't know how to advise you. I can't say covering up something like this is the right thing. But I know how much you want to make friends. I can see how happy it makes you that you have them now. And I know how much damage coming out into the open with this could hurt those friendships no matter how good your intentions are and you'd be doing this, for someone who might even deserve worse than whatever your friend did to them or might not even appreciate the sacrifice you'd make."

He took another breath, this one releasing it in a huff. "There are two sides of me right now...as...I'm sure that there are two sides to you. One wants to be the good parent; wants to say do the right thing Taylor. Tell them what happened. Be honest. And there's another part of me that...knows...that doing the right thing can sometimes lead to the worst outcome.…"

He swallowed, taking off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. The grimace I could see on his face I no doubt shared at some point today. "And I've just seen you go through too much pain already to ask you to take on more kiddo."

I bit my lip, sniffing. I wasn't gonna cry. Heroes don't do that. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.

"In the end…" He finally breathed. "-you just gotta know that whatever you decide...I'll back you one hundred percent no matter what."

I bit my lip and looked up at him. I knew he would support me to the bitter end, and I hugged him. "Thanks Dad..."

"Your welcome kiddo. Anytime." He kissed my head. "Now, you get to bed. You have school in the morning. I'll wake you up." I smile and nod, standing up and heading up the stairs, saying "Goodnight" as I did.

"Dad?"

"Hmmm?" He perked up at me as he was locking down the doors.

"Thanks." Dad smiled.

I smiled back and went upstairs to my bedroom. Still, the same as I left it the last time I was here. I shedded off my clothes, got into my pajamas, and crawled into bed and under the familiar covers. I sighed in contentment. I can hear Dad's footsteps as he turns off any lights and goes into his bedroom.

I yawn and feel my eyes slowly close as I get to sleep.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

3.1

I was in Arcadia's cafeteria. I was with Chris. Carlos and the others too.

I…

Is this a dream?

Strange...aren't you supposed to wake up when you recognize you're in a dream?

We seemed to be having a good time. But...I don't remember getting here...What was the last thing I did?

I heard whispering and hushed voices, and I saw my friends look up. Their faces are...strange. I turn back around to see what the deal was.

It was Victoria walking alone and holding her backpack as she was rushing through the cafeteria at a brisk pace. I stand up but felt an arm grip my own, pulling me back down. I look and see Aisha.

"Don't Tay." She hissed.

"Killing a normal." Said a voice I didn't recognize. I looked around, searching. I don't find it. Don't see anyone speaking. They just...stare.

"Just because the guy was a Nazi doesn't mean a parahuman can get away with that!"

"They tried to cover it up too. Just as bad.."

I blinked, the voices hammering away at my senses as I try to focus. I looked at Victoria. She's stopped in the middle of the cafeteria, beneath all of these accusing eyes.

"She's a loose cannon."

"Glad she got taken down to size."

I stood up again, and this time I pulled free of the hand that tried to hold me back.

I tried to trudge through the faceless crowd. Trying to get to the retreating Victoria, now dressed in jeans and a jacket, her hair is uncombed.

I reach forward

My hand brushes her shoulder.

Then she's not there. She's not there and the eyes are on me now.

And I'm the one they're glaring at now, the one standing isolated in the center of the room.

'Look at her. Can't control herself. Should have seen that on her first day.'

'She burned down the whole school. Nearly killed all the students. Probably wanted to kill them.'

'Psycho Carrie Bitch.'

'Tore off a womans arm. What would she have done to some normal causing too much trouble?'

I shook. My hands had risen up to my head, gripping at my hair. 'Its just a dream...its just a dream.' I hissed, shaking my head. 'Its not real...I just have to wake up.'

I tugged at my hair, feeling no pain.

Its just a dream...Its not real...I just have to wake up...its just a dream.

'Let me go. Let me go!'

Its just a dream!

"What's wrong Taylor?"

My eyes snapped open and right there, right in front of me was Emma. Smiling that little grin of hers. That little...goddamn smile that just told me she just wasn't done quite yet.

Then my hand was wreathed in flame.

And my whole world was on fire as they all screamed as they burned. The smell of burning flesh hit me. Their skin blackened and charred.

I'm alone.

Alone.

Alone

Alone

Ash danced around me.

And then I felt her grip on my hand. Tugging me free of this place, the flames dying.

Then it was quiet and there was...dark…

Peace.

Dulcet laughter, as beautiful as it was reassuring. I felt her arms coil around me, a warmth spreading across my thoughts. The fear, the pain, the anger. It all...melted away.

I looked up. But her face was hidden in shadow...I could see nothing but her smile…

It was…

I hugged her tight.

"Mom?"

Her hand caressed my cheek...

(X)

I awoke with a start and a gasp, still in bed and sweating. I stared up at the ceiling. My old ceiling with chipped, off color white paint.

I'm panting, eyes going this way and that way, before I finally felt myself calm down. My heart was thundering in my chest.

"Just a dream," I muttered, sitting up, swiveling around, so my feet touched the ground. "Just a...really weird dream…"

I sat there for a while before I finally pushed myself onto my feet and went to the bathroom. I washed my face. And gripped at the sink. Half feeling like I wanna throw up.

I stayed there for minutes. Quiet. Thinking. That dream was...but so vivid I could almost feel mom's arms around me like they were actually there…

I could still smell burning flesh in my nostrils…

I can still hear the silence of absolute solitude.

I shook my head. Opened the bathroom door and looked across the hallway to the clock we had hanging on the wall.

I blinked. It was a little later than my usual wake-up time, actually.

I closed the door, opened up the faucet, and washed my face again, trying to wash away the sleep as much as the strangeness of the dream itself.

I got out, went back to my room, and picked out some clothes to shower. Now that I was a bit more aware of myself, I could hear Dad down in the kitchen making breakfast.

When I'm finally ready to head down, Dad is scraping some eggs out of the skillet with the spatula.

"Morning, Taylor." He greets, not looking away from his task.

"Morning, dad." I shifted from foot to foot. "Dad. I'd rather not go to school today."

He turns from his cooking, looking at me. "I think I know the reason, but I wouldn't mind hearing it."

I took a breath. "I want a clear head to decide this. I want to *know* that what I'm doing is right either way. I don't want… my friend trying to convince me again, or us ending up arguing. I want to decide, not to jump into something I'll end up regretting and I don't think I can do that if I go to school today.

Danny sighed. Then he nodded. "Alright...I get it. But Taylor. This is just for today. If you don't decide today, then you are going to class tomorrow, come hell shit or high waters okay?"

I nodded. That was fair

He turned back to his cooking. "Well. Now that our pressing need to be early for your classes is over, I can make something a little better than sunny side up eggs."

I laughed. "Like what?"

Dad smirked. "I remember it's been a while since someone had those blueberry pancakes that they like so much."

"Don't you have work?" I asked, smiling at the back of his head.

"I've been clocking so many overtime hours out of boredom without you kiddo, that they'd still owe me money if I missed a whole week."

"It's good to be the boss, huh?" I laughed.

"Damn right."

---

We got into the car over an hour late, and he began driving.

It was quiet, really.

It wasn't...awkward per-se. But we could both notice that there was a subject we were choosing to ignore. Me, still contemplating what to do. Him allowing me to do so.

Either way, by the time I got back to PRT HQ I'd decide one way or another.

I barely even recognized when my dad started talking. "-adio says there was an accident on the 95. We'll need to make a detour unless you wanna be stuck in traffic for an hour.." His eyes went up, trying to think of the different ways he could make it to the PRT HQ from here.

I smiled, "There's an app for that." I got my phone out and began looking on my Sig-Alert app. I almost reeled as I saw some heavy traffic a couple of intersections up ahead.

"I remember when phones were just phones. Not a whole appliance store." He grumbled.

"Hey, dad, we can get to the 103 if we cut through Concord Heights. The intersection on the other side is clear. We can also go through Vess road but it's estimating ten more minutes driving time."

"You know I remember when we had intuition and deduction to figure things out. We can take the thirty-eight. It's early so most of the businesses there are still closed." He chuckled.

"Thirty-eight has twenty more minutes." I smiled.

"That phone's just plain old wrong." I noticed he did take the road to go to Concord Heights regardless.

A few minutes later, we were in the nice part of town. It was hilly, and there were climbs and drops, but still, lots of great houses to look at.

My phone began to ring, and I looked down, it was from "Unknown"

I picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Yes, would this be the correct line to call about chimney cleaning services?"

I cringed. Honestly, I get that they have to use code-words to avoid someone else picking up the phone and the guy on the other side just blabbing out more information than what would be prudent.

But still, Carlos' job was "Personal Trainer" Kid Win was "Computer repair". Vista had freaking Photography. And I have cleaning chimneys? Does anyone even have chimneys in Brockton bay?

"Yes." I answer easily. "We deal with all manner of fire and ash damage." I answer the fairly simple passcode.

"Ashburn, there's a situation. Bay Central Bank is being held up. Undersider Gang." I perked up. The Undersiders are robbing a bank?

The operator kept talking before I could get a word in edgewise. "There's a quick response truck already en route to your location. ETA is three minutes. We need you to stop there and get in when they arrive. All Wards are being called in for this. We would have brought you out of your classes, too but you're not present in Arcadia."

I ignored the accusation, choosing to focus on what didn't make sense to me right now. "All the Wards? What about the Protectorate?"

"All Protectorate personnel are currently out of the Bay"

Out of the Ba- Oh crap. That thing was today?

I nod, then nearly slap myself for doing that over the phone. "Right, we'll be waiting on your arrival" I hang up.

"Three minutes." The man repeats.

Dad was looking at me. "What's up kiddo?"

"Dad we need to-Stop the car!"

Dad's foot slams on the break at the sound of my voice, tires squealing, the seat-belt digs into my shoulder and chest as I lurch forward, almost hitting the dashboard with my face before I jerk back into my seat.

I hear a thud against the hood and feel my heart drop. Dad hit someone!

My eyes snap upwards, and I realize, no, Dad didn't hit someone. The person is hitting the hood with their hands.

It's a little girl.

"Help me!" She screams. Tears are streaming down her face. She's still wearing her school uniform.

She rounds the car, and Dad is still getting his bearings when she yanks open the car door beside him, crying, grabbing onto his jacket and Dad just grabs her, as confused as I am when the girl starts muttering. "Eighty-seven point three percent chance. Eighty-seven point three percent chance!"

Dad's hands seem like they don't know what to do with themselves, stuck between grabbing at the distraught girl and gripping the steering wheel for dear life. "Ok, Ok honey what's-"

There's a sound, I don't rightly recognize it, but the next thing I know the front windshield is shattering over us and a wave of heat hits me with the shards of glass.

Dad's hands finally find what to do with themselves as they grab the girl and pull her into the car across his lap, draping himself over her.

I look up where I've ducked down, and I find eleven men in what looks like Tinker-tech gear circling us…

I'm about to tell Dad to put his foot on the gas when I notice that our hood currently had a hole melted straight through it, about the size of a fist.

We're not going anywhere…

I need ash...something to burn.

"Secure the package." I heard one say in a tech-scrambled voice. I wouldn't have been able to tell which had he not moved his hand and one of his men stepped forward to do as asked.

"Eighty-seven point three percent...Eighty-seven point three-" The girl kept muttering to herself, shaking like a leaf in Dad's arms. Dad himself was looking around now, like a deer caught in a couple dozen headlights. His head whipped to and fro, taking in the whole scenery.

One of the men stepped forward, circling around the still open car door. He reached in towards the girl and grabbed her by the back of the school uniform.

Dad finally seemed to catch onto what was happening.

My dad cocked back his foot, then kicked the armored soldier in the face.

The merc reeled back, and the rifle dangling from its strap was once more in his hand, pointing at my dad as he grabbed at his ankle and half pulled him out of the car.

He's pointing a rifle...at my dad!

I don't know if he's going to shoot. I don't wait long enough to find out one way or the other.

My hand rises over my father and the crying girl, and then there's a stream of bright, impossibly hot fire streaking out of my fingertips towards him.

I catch what must be surprise behind the lens of his visor as he tries to dive away.

It's a second too late.

The flames hit him, the force of the attack pushes him back, and the next second I hear him screaming

It's a horrible scream.

He writhes and thrashes on the floor.

My fires eat him alive.

It doesn't take long, perhaps three to five seconds, for him to go still.

It was the longest five seconds of my life.

There's crackle of voices over radios and helmets, surprised, angry.

"Shit!"

"Cape!"

"Take her down! Center mass!"

I'm lucky the dead guy pulled Dad a little out of the car. I could never do this otherwise.

With a thought, all my clothes, the seat directly beneath me, and the carpeting on the floor the plastic and foam of the car door and armrest on either side of me are all on fire.

Rifles come alive with clacks, snaps, and whines of charged tinker tech power cells.

I don't have enough ash. Not nearly enough. I haven't burned enough!

I use the lever at the side of the seat to lower the back; now I'm laying down, my hand grips the back seat, lighting it up and then drifting down to the floor to set the whole thing on fire.

Then they start shooting.

I dive into the floor of the back seat, using the flames now swallowing the car to cover my movements, leaving them shooting at the empty front seat.

Then my mind goes blank with pain as I feel what must be a jagged wire lance up my calf, shooting from my leg up my spine and straight down again to my foot with raw, burning agony.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from screaming and giving myself away.

I've just been shot!

Dad is shouting my name, only his side of the car is still 'intact' but that's changing fast, he's gotten out of the car, the little girl is screaming.

I lay there for a second, breathing fast as I try to gather my wits, try to remember where they were standing, how far dad is from them.

A thought comes to my head. The Car is probably gonna blow up soon.

The fires burn, it's an inferno. I can barely draw a breath, the fire's just eating up the oxygen.

I make it burn hotter, eat up their fuel faster.

Burn it all into ash and cinders.

At that point I discover with my power, something's already been consumed, there's more ash than what's in the car.

I realize it's the man I burned.

I don't care. I pull his remains towards me with a thought, hear the snaps and cracks of bone fragments and clinks of tinker metal and tech splinters getting dragged across the ground as the ash slips into the car to join the rest I'm creating around me right now.

I can't wait anymore. My lungs are burning with an entirely different fire. I gather the ash around my torso, my arms and legs. As much as I have. More of it every second. My head is bare, most of my back as well.

I stand as best I can in the back seat, and my eyes see the silhouettes through the fire, standing in front of the car and beside it.

I grip the driver's seat and lunge.

I can only imagine what I must have looked like to them, raw brute strength making me explode out of the flaming wreck of my Dad's car, clawed fingertips lancing into Tinker tech armor to cut into the Merc's shoulder while my other hand crunches and cracks his metal helmet.

He screams. He's trying to shoot me with his tinker tech gun, but its too long. I'm too close. He gets off three shots somewhere behind me before I bring him down to the ground. His cry of alarm is abruptly and brutally cut off as my hand smashes the back of his head down into the pavement.

I look to my left, to where Dad is still holding the girl

"Run!" I scream at him.

He's looking at me, shaking his head, refusing as he clutches at the child.

A bullet slams into my elbow, the paper thin layer of ash makes it feel like a sledgehammer rather than a paintball shot like it normally did.

I turn, and I drag my victim with the movement, placing him between myself and his team members to the right of me.

They're shouting now, a half dozen voices all screaming over each other. I feel warm blood trickling down my leg. Whatever adrenaline I had couldn't fully block out the pain now that I'm putting my full weight on it and I don't have enough ash to form one of my statues yet.

I see more of them, circling around the car, moving to get behind me where I don't have any ash to protect myself.

I look at the man in my grasp.

 [COLOR=transparent][/COLOR][COLOR=transparent][/COLOR][COLOR=transparent][/COLOR][COLOR=transparent]He is fuel.[/COLOR]

I feel nothing as I burn him with my flames, armor and flesh coming apart beneath my fingers in seconds, the remains gathering over my skin to become another piece of my armor.

Then I feel like I'm hit by a freight train.

It takes me a second to realize I've been knocked on my ass, that I can't breathe, that my chest and lungs must be wrapped in barbed wire because it just hurts that bad.

I struggle to stand, hearing the girl screaming, and my Dad struggling.

Dad…

I get my hands under me, just managing to get up onto my hands and knees when my arm feels like its just snapped in two and I'm falling flat on my face again.

"The hell is that thing!"

"Shoot it!"

Like a warm salve, I can feel the warmth flowing through my limbs, the pain ebbs and melts away.

I move to stand, and whatever hit me before hits me again, the top of my shoulder this time, the blow shoves me back on my ass.

I don't know where the shooter is.

I finally bring my eyes up, the men are retreating, the girl is with them, Dad's on the ground, bleeding…

My heart stops.

He's not moving.

Dad isn't moving.

Those men…

My father…

My father is not moving!

It's an insidious whisper through my mind, a swell of some...vile, twisted madness burning through my thoughts to swallow everything as I stare at my father who is not moving!

I shake my head, crying as I stumble onto my feet, running towards him. "No no...nononono!

His glasses are broken, there's a hole in his chest the healing aurora should work. It should work The wound should be closing!

No no no no nononononononononononono!

"We've got the package. Returning to base."

My eyes snap up, I can only imagine the expression that must have crossed my face as my eyes find the backs of the retreating soldiers.

I hear her voice again then...mom's voice…a loving, soft whisper I can't help but be aware of...

I listen...

(X)

Coil snapped the projected timeline closed, eyes wide in mild alarm at the sheer destruction that had just been unleashed on the center of Brockton Bay.

"That was…" He was not...expecting that.

Miss Hebert had, evidently, been holding far more back than what he or even the Protectorate gave her credit for.

His men had seen that first hand. They'd certainly had plenty of time to scream.

"Sir. Your orders?"

His men were still standing by in this reality, waiting on the fringes of the street, still out of sight from the occupants of the car as Dinah cried into Daniel Hebert's chest, screaming about her visions, the numbers, about the men coming after her as the Heberts sat there, trying to calm her hysterics.

He could try to go for it. Could order his men to refrain from trying to kill the Heberts this time...to not kill the father as they had.

But no. Not worth it at the moment. This was a cape in her civilian identity, More than that, it was a Ward he risked too much. Even from his own hired help, if they suspected he'd upped the ante so drastically they would fold.

The Undersiders would likely cut ties. As would Faultline.

New Wave alone would make it their mission to hunt him down. The situation would remind them too much of Fleur, that's not to mention the PRT response.

With a full investigation and perhaps the villains looking into it as well due to a breach of the unspoken rules, it wouldn't take long for the link of the mercenaries here and his own forces, which mostly consisted of mercenaries, to be drawn to him.

He pressed the button so his men could hear him. "Fall back, captain. Miss Alcott will be headed to the Protectorate. For now, at least."

"Understood. Package unsecured. Returning to base."

Coil rested his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, scowling at his computer as he let out a sigh through his nose. Tattletale and the Undersiders had held up their end and were already escaping with the money. They'll be getting a paycheck for a diversion that was ultimately successful but bore no fruit.

A setback....but a minor one.

In fact… that whole mess with Shadow Stalker… he'd been hoping to use that information to smear Piggot when the time came. But he may have just found an even more… fortuitous usage for this blunder the Director and Armsmaster had so conveniently bumbled themselves into…

Quietly, Coil picked up a phone.

He had a few calls to make.

(X)(X)(X)

Chapter Text

Interlude: Emily Piggot

The click of her heels on the white tiles of the hallway was the only warning Emily Piggot offered the Wards before she placed her hand on the panel to let it read her handprint, opening the door to the medical room just in time to hear Gallant's voice directed at Panacea.

'You sure? It's not like her to not come to school, and she sounded upset over the pho-" He cut himself off as she walked in.

Her eyes panned the pristine white walls and the Wards themselves, who occupied the various seats available.

Fresh cuts and bruises were recently healed, just now, in fact. She'd been timing her arrival for when Panacea would ultimately finish avoiding the need to stand around and wait.

This situation had just gone from complicated to dangerous, and it was quickly becoming apparent that she had no time to spare.

"Panacea." She nodded at the world's most famous healer.

"Director. I was just finishing with Aegis now." She replied, standing up from where she'd been sitting at Carlos' side.

"So I see." She stepped aside. "Forgive me for being abrupt, but I need a word with the Wards about the situation at the bank."

Dennis was the one that spoke up. Of course, he would. "We already told Amy what happened at the bank while she was healing us Direc-"

"What I'm going to speak to you about regards more than just the Bank, Clockblocker." Her voice came out with the crack of a whip. They did not treat the Wards as a military unit and sometimes, particularly when friendships or relationships were involved like right now, it showed. Doubly so with Dennis, who had some issues with authority, to begin with.

"It's fine. I'll see you all outside." The girl answered before marching out and past her.

She barely waited for the door to be shut before she turned back to the Wards and Aegis in particular who was standing up from where he'd been lying down.

"Your report." She demanded.

"Ma'am." Aegis took a cue from Miss Militia, standing at a typical parade rest stance as he spoke.

It did a lot to demonstrate professionalism and hide nervousness. Militia, Aegis, and Triumph before him were the only ones to do it. The other Wards tended to fidget, giving away their emotions at times. So did the Protectorate Heroes, for that matter.

Battery crossed her arms; Assault paced, and Velocity allowed his leg to move up and down if he could. Armsmaster was the only one who stood stock still. One hand at his side, the other gripping the halberd that was tall as he was.

"As you know, we were called out of Arcadia High approximately thirty minutes after our first-period classes began because the Undersiders gang was holding up Brockton Central. We arrived on scene and proceeded to cover the entrances and possible exits as best we could. Browbeat was in the back, covering one possible exit. Kid Win was on the roof."

She turned her eyes to Browbeat; the boy shrugged. "They didn't come my way. Walked in and out the front door." He offered.

She nodded. "Yes. I also heard you had a plan to switch costumes with Clockblocker so he could freeze their team's dogs when they inevitably went after you. What happened?"

"Tattletale happened." The aforementioned trap/bait spoke up. "That thinker they got figured it out. Or at least, that's our guess. Told Hellhound to sick her dogs on 'me' and then one of them… err… the villains, not the dogs, kept making me trip all over myself. I barely got three feet before falling flat on my face, and he kept on doing the same to Vista too."

She looked to the youngest Ward, who looked about as happy about the situation as if someone had made her drink vinegar. Her injuries were healed, but the rather jagged crack that ran up the length of her visor indicated she'd taken a nasty hit to the face somewhere. Probably on the ground.

"Kept trying to get out of range-" She muttered sullenly. "-but every time I tried to stand, he'd just trip me up again. Looks like he can target whoever he can see. Either that or his range can extend for miles, which I doubt."

Something to consider later, Piggot mused.

"Then Grue covered the whole bank in that dark crap, us too; we couldn't see or hear anything." said Dennis again.

"I still knew where they were-" Missy added, "-and I kept trying to run interference with distance , but this stuff was disorienting, and they released a lot of the hostages all at once to add to the confusion and nullify my power. By the time I got everything straight in my head, Hellhound got her dogs to trample over Aegis, tear Kid's hoverboard, and rip Gallant's jetpack off."

"Then they ran." She drawled.

"Then they ran" Aegis confirmed with a grim nod. "At that point, I was the only one that could still pursue… and I'd be outnumbered four to one. Seven if you count the dogs. And in the dark we would never have been able to communicate or coordinate with each other at all."

"Where was Taylor?" Dennis asked.

Kid, who had been quiet up to now, swiveled his head around to look at him.

The clock-themed cape held up his hands. "Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not mad or anything. But she's one of our heaviest hitters. Could have probably punched out those dogs and covered the place in ash to match that Dark crap. Hell, where the hell is Sophia? It's been ages since we saw her stalking the halls around here like Christmas misery come early or something. Didn't she have a grudge against that Grue guy???"

"That-" Emily spoke before anyone could continue the conversation. Hopefully they'd ignore the question of Sophia once she spoke. "Is why I'm here. Taylor was called in but ran into… interference." She answered carefully. "Did the Undersiders mention anyone else they could be working with? Or for? Anything at all?"

"To be frank," Aegis answered. "We weren't exactly in a place to talk or listen. Even if they were speaking, the darkness Grue's power generates blocks out all sights and sounds."

She resisted the urge to curse as she sighed.

"This does not leave this room." She looked pointedly at Gallant. "While on her way towards the Bank, Ms. Hebert was approached by a Parahuman whom we are under strong impressions, is a Precog. Quite possibly a postcog though, that has yet to be confirmed. We're tentatively rating her a Thinker seven with the possibility of such a ranking going up on further testing."

Dennis whistled while Brendan's eyebrows shot up.

"This parahuman-" She continued, ignoring him. "Was, allegedly, under attack by a team of possibly powered individuals or unpowered individuals with access to Tinkertech. We've corroborated evidence gathered on traffic cameras and a handful of eyewitness accounts and can confirm that there was indeed a team of people after her. A team that backed off the second she intercepted the Heberts asking them for help."

She allowed that to sink in.

It was Gallant that spoke- "But that would mean-"

"We have a leak." The word tasted like bile at the back of her throat. "If it was just the bank robbery occurring the same day the Protectorate heroes would be out of the city, that'd be fine, so to speak. Many organizations knew of our presence there; the leak could have come from them. But the fact that these men knew to back away from a Ward means that someone knows Hebert's civilian ID. Knows it accurately enough to recognize her in her father's car from half a city block away."

"That means all our Civilian ID's could be outed!" Chris near shouted.

Her features were grim as she nodded. "That's correct."

"B-But who would know that? Hell who else would know? It might not be just this… whoever. The ABB? E88? Another out-of-town gang?"

"We don't know yet." Emily cut him off. The last thing she needed was the Wards going off on wild speculations and flipping the hell out. "Rest assured, we will be running cross-checks with all of the faculty in your school along with the agents and heroes here. Everyone will be under a microscope, and the leak will be found and we will determine how far the damage goes."

The young Parahumans now looked concerned, nervous.

There were rules about this kind of thing. The penalty for breaking those rules always promised retaliation, but that tended to happen after the damage had been done.

"There is good news, however." She said, watching as the Wards perked up. "The Precog was able to very quickly narrow down our list of suspects before she succumbed to a Thinker headache."

"How narrow?" Aegis asked.

"Coil." The Director shrugged. "One Hundred percent probability Coil is responsible for her attempted kidnapping. She was suffering of the effects of a Thinker headache before she could say more, but with a little recovery she should be able to give us more information with this ability of hers. Finding him with her… enthusiasm will be remarkably easy.."

Now the Wards looked more at ease. Kid Win visibly sagging with the breath he released.

She nodded, it would do no one any good for them to worry themselves sick.

"However-" She decided to caution. "Depending on how extensive this leak is Coil may already be aware of how much information the Precog granted us. If he is, he may try to cut his losses and flee. So this isn't over until I say it's over. Are we clear?"

"Yes Ma'am." Aegis nodded.

"That means you stay on your guard. You don't leave your phones. You don't leave your designated patrol routes. You don't do anything that isn't personally cleared by Miss Militia, Armsmaster or myself."

Each of them nodded, a broken chorus of 'Yes ma'am' flitting through the room.

"If your parents agree, and if you wish it, we'll be gathering each of them into protective custody for at least a week." She promised. "You'll be allowed to stay with them in the secure hotel accommodations or on base. But beyond that you cannot return home until this is resolved.

Her phone rang before they could answer her. "Piggot here." She answered sharply.

"Ma'am. The Heberts and Ms. Alcot have just been brought in."

"Send them to my office." Her voice was a bit clipped as she hung up.

She was about to turn around when Aegis marched up to her. "Ma'am"

"What is it Aegis?"

"Requesting permission to conduct independent investigations into the Undersiders."

Even if she said no, none of them would listen, not with this. She couldn't really blame them either.

And his logic though knee jerk was sound.

Without an absurd level of coincidence the Undersiders were involved and knew who was pulling all the strings. "What you do on your own time is your business. Do as you like." She said by way of answer. "But you, none of you are authorized to act independently based on your findings. When you find something, come to me immediately. I don't care if it's at three in the morning or on Christmas morning or when the Endbringer sirens are blaring, you bring what you find to me. I am your first and last stop. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The Ward nodded. Dennis gave a hand gesture of a the thumb and index finger connecting in a circle; the other three held up "Capiche ma'am.".

She turned and walked out, marching towards her office.

Time to find out just how valuable the Mayor's niece was that this puppeteer would go through so much trouble to acquire her.

(X)

The girl was a mess.

Bloodshot eyes, her knees, and hands scraped where she'd fallen in her run, school uniform wrinkled and filthy.

She looked like she had just run through a backyard school brawl.

Hebert was in the room, covered from head to toe in her ash armor. It was polite fiction to pretend Dinah Alcott didn't already know Taylor's identity. The girl had run straight into her because Taylor had the highest possible chance of keeping her safe.

As the Ward that had 'rescued' her, Taylor herself was, in essence, a material witness as much as a PRT/Protectorate agent. Her father was in another room, giving his statement.

Along with Ms. Alcott was Rory, out of costume, of course. The girl had clung to him like a lifeline and refused to let go almost as much as she'd refused to be parted from Ms. Hebert.

They were currently waiting on the young Alcott's parents.

Given that this was the Mayor's niece, she was, in effect, walking on eggshells of a sort.

The last thing she wanted to deal with was an angry Mayor to top her list of 'Shit I don't need to deal with' right below finding out who had leaked the Ward's civilian ID's and who currently was benefiting from that leak.

When her office doors opened, a man with a passing resemblance to Rory, who was sitting with the girl on her office's couch, all but ran in. "Dinah?"

"Daddy!"

She got up, running straight for him as he knelt and picked her up in a great hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Are you okay baby-girl?"

Evidently, whatever wall the child had tucked her emotions behind came undone as she was held in her father's arms.

She began bawling her eyes out as Rory stood and went to speak to his uncle.

Piggot took a breath, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

She wasn't entirely unsympathetic to the girl's emotional rollercoaster. Anyone who had gone through her ordeal, especially at her age, would probably do the same. But time was more important right now. Every second wasted was another second for the villains to cover their tracks. Or for their mole to decide to pack up and go.

As such, she barely waited for the crying to be reduced to hiccups before she stood, pointedly clearing her throat. "Mr. Alcott."

The man looked up, maneuvering his head to look over his daughter's mop of hair that was resting on his shoulder. "Y-yes?"

"I'm director Emily Piggot of the PRT. Please, take a seat."

"I-I don't...Should we call a lawyer?"

She refrained from rolling her eyes. "That's not necessary. You're not under arrest, and your daughter is not in trouble…" She almost amended the statement with 'From us'  but held herself back.

"Well, what's going on? I was just called from work and was told you had Dinah and that she'd been attacked. Now she's here and crying and-"

One could almost hear what little patience she still had, audibly… snap.

She had a mole in her organization, the threat of every Ward's, and possibly every Hero's Civilian Identification in the hands of a criminal. One who might just upload those identifications to a public database out of spite.

Mercenaries were chasing children through the street, her Wards publicly bested by a small-time gang that managed to escape with at least fifty to two hundred thousand dollars in cash, a PR catastrophe currently brewing in the media with every Hero being out of the city when all of these situations went down, the Mayor ringing her secretaries phone off the cradle with calls every fifteen minutes.

She was not exactly in the mood to humor this civilian's fears and play the softball game.

She opened her mouth.

The door to her office hissed open.

She was sure the clack of her teeth could have been heard on the floor below.

She glared at the most unwelcome intruder.

"Yes, Calvert?" She all but bit out.

The man looked at the assembled group in her office, Rory, the Alcotts, and Hebert before turning his eyes to her, pulling a file out from under his arm. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me for the interruption," He said drolly, not looking the least bit put off by the curious glances or her heated stare, marching past the lot of them to hand her the file. "But I thought you should know, that situation with Shadow Stalker has not been resolved."

Her incredulity was naked on her face.

Hess? Hess! There were multiple crises sitting in her lap, and he wanted to bring up Hess NOW!?

She hadn't even assigned this case to him!

She should have expected this. Judging by the small, smug little smile on his face, the bastard was most likely relishing in the fact that he'd apparently figured it out and was ready to lord this over her head. He'd always been angling for her job.

Her glare sharpened into something hateful.

He continued, unperturbed or oblivious. "Apparently, there was an error with the paperwork."

She grabbed the folder and tossed it on her desk without a second glance. "I'll deal with it myself later."

He shrugged carelessly. "I figured you should know since you wished it handled without… certain new parties becoming aware."

He tossed a look Hebert's way. One that the girl very clearly saw.

As soon as she was done with Coil, she was wringing this bastard's fucking neck, even if she were out the way door while doing it.

"Understood." She snarled. "I will handle it. Now Leave."

He offered a thin smile before nodding and turning with a sharp about-face.

Her eyes could have cut stone, she was sure. If she were to trigger right now, it'd be with a blaster power out of her eyeballs to kill him where he stood.

She made a point not to look at Hebert for a while longer; even as the girl looked at her in obvious confusion and curiosity.

(X)

That night

"So...we have a traitor amongst us. One who's given up our identities." Armsmaster mused as he scratched at his beard with one hand, the other holding the Halberd. He was one of two heroes present, in part because Emily knew he was too much of a glory hound to go rogue. Miss Militia was another Hero she had on the very short 'highly unlikely to be the traitor' list. Nearly everyone else was fair game as far as she was concerned.

Paranoid of her. As far as someone like her could trust parahumans, she trusted the batch of them working in her city. But better a little paranoid right now than not.

"We do," Emily growled as she looked out the window towards the Bay. She turned towards the Tinker Hero. "Given everything we know, it's very likely someone relatively high on the chain… or worse, multiple people."

"Your tone suggests you have no idea who. "

"The Mole himself, none. The man employing him is Coil." She growled. "I take it you haven't had time to read the transcript of the Alcott girl's interview?"

"Not yet. I was informed she could tell numbers, hard percentages of event probability. Useful. Especially if they can cover both pre and post cognition."

"Uncertain for now" Emily nodded. "She fingered Coil immediately, didn't have to ask her anything."

"Hmm…" His lip curled. She couldn't blame him.

Out of the four primary criminal powers in the bay, Coil was the biggest enigma of them all.

All they knew was that he employed mercenaries. They didn't know if he had any other parahumans in his employ or if he even was a parahuman himself.

And for all they knew now, the most they could figure out was that he had hired the Undersiders. They didn't even know if it was a one-time deal or a permanent basis kind of thing.

She grit her teeth. The cogs in her own mind turned. "The Central Bay heist was a diversion. Coil hired the Undersiders to do it. He used them to distract the Wards and sent in his mercenaries to kidnap Dinah while you and the other Heroes were outside of the city. He knew exactly how long it would take us to scramble the Wards and get them to the bank and knew exactly how to counter Vista's power with a mass group of people to allow the Undersiders to escape. That information is highly classified."

"It could have been the Undersiders' Thinker. Tattletale. Still, should we do interviews?" Armsmaster straightened up. "I can talk to some of-."

She shook her head. "You can, but not yet. Coil's mole could very well be a parahuman, or someone with Tinker tech, or even under Master-Stranger influence. I want every damn base covered, so we'll use Dinah to help us. I don't want to tip them off at all. As of now, only five people know what we're discussing. The three of us, Ashburn and Triumph. No one else knows, and no one else needs to know… Clear?"

They nodded.

Piggot leaned back in her seat. "Now. Here's the troubling part. I questioned Miss Alcott earlier regarding her safety. She answered that there is only a fifty-eight percent chance she's safe inside PRT HQ."

Armsmaster reeled.

She nodded. "Specifically within the next thirty-two hours. Her chances significantly improved after that."

"That means Coil's going to act very quickly. He knows Dinah's power and knows that if he waits for much longer, we'll find both the mole and his base of operations."

"That's what I'm assuming."

"Did you ask her anything else?"

"If she was in her home. The answer there was abysmal but not unexpected. Twelve percent if she returned home to her family. More troubling though is that if we took her to an out-of-state safe house, her chances of being safe were only twenty-seven percent."

Armsmaster frowned. "That would suggest that he either has the ability to track her-"

"Or the infiltration is so deep and so widespread that even newly classified information can practically reach his desk the second it hits ours."

The man shook his head.

Coil's network was bigger than any of them thought. They'd been so fixated on the Dragon and the self-styled Emperor that they never noticed the Venomous Snake slithering up in the grass behind them.

"Why did you stop questioning her?" He suddenly asked. "We only have a window of a few hours before Coil makes his move against us. If we can narrow down the location of his base with a map, we can-"

"Don't insult the both of us, Armsmaster." She cut him off. "You think I wouldn't have this girl in a room right now if I could? I got as much out of her as was possible."

"What do you mean?"

"Unfortunately, she never explained that she gets thinker headaches with repeated use." She looked like she drank curdled milk. "I… wasted so many questions before that!" She rubbed her forehead. "Even the specialized pills our pediatrician offered only managed to ebb the pain for one or two more questions after I realized the mistake. She's been utilizing her power all day in order to escape. When she got a nosebleed after the last question, her parents stepped in. Her power puts a strain on her brain in putting in the numbers and probability. Right now, she's in the Wards dormitory. Her father went back home to get a change of clothes, so we sent PRT agents with him. Her mother is in one of the… jail cells, actually."

Miss Militia's look of surprise wasn't unexpected, but Armsmaster looking at her as though she'd grown a second head nearly made Emily chortle in spite of the situation at hand.

In the end, she repressed the mirth and offered a shrug. "This is the PRT. Not a hotel. It's all we had to offer without placing her in the barracks or the Protectorate rooms. Both of which would be a high breach in security that we simply do not need more of. She took it. The door's unlocked, and she's close to a bathroom with a shower. At any rate, if Coil plans on trying to get to Miss Alcott again within the next thirty-two hours, he's going to have to go through every member of the PRT to do it."

"Hmmm… we should have at least two heroes stick by Dinah at all times." He said.

She nodded. "Already ahead of you. Velocity and Triumph volunteered for the first watch. We'll also be keeping patrols to a minimum." She continued. "Unless Lung is blowing up the city, or Kaiser declares some holy war against all minorities, we all stay firmly put until Coil is dealt with."

"Understood."

Miss Militia nodded, "I'll head to the Ward dorms, get them up to speed on the situation and our plans."

"Do so." She dismissed.

Armsmaster stayed behind, not unusual, but she was drawing a blank on what the man might want to discuss.

"Something further?"

"This isn't the best time to bring this up." He admitted, and Emily felt her eyebrow hike its way up to her hairline on its own. "But if I leave with this whole situation, I'll likely forget. We need to discuss the situation with Hebert and Hess."

Ahh. That headache.

She leaned back in her chair. She needed a drink.

"Talk then."

He frowned. No doubt in consternation that she was actually making him talk this out rather than simply deducing what he wanted to bring up on her own.

"This… situation is growing increasingly precarious. Gallant has already figured out that Hess is connected to her Trigger. Aisha Labourne, a non-powered friend they've made in Arcadia, is aware of the relationship between Hess and Hebert; our involvement is unknown to her as of yet. Between these two things, it won't take long for the rest of the Wards to find out, and from there, there is no way that Miss Hebert will not find out as well, and the situation will become unsalvageable."

She stared at him. "You realize if Miss Hebert is utterly unwilling to listen to reason, or worse, her father is unwilling to listen to reason, and this truly goes completely sideways, it will likely cost both our jobs?"

The man's lip curled, but he didn't deny it.

Piggot sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

She should have figured it was always going to be untenable.

And now Calvert knew.

This wasn't a priority. Not like Coil. But it was a brewing crisis. One she had to manage along with everything else.

Armsmaster shifted where he stood. "I've promised… that I would reveal the situation in no more than two days time. If possible, I'd like to keep that promise."

She frowned.

Who had he promised? Gallant? Miss Militia?

She supposed it didn't really matter. She sighed. "If the situation is already known to Gallant, then we can't wait much longer. He's never been one to sit well with lying, even lies of omission." She closed her eyes and thought. "Thirty-two hours is the time frame we have on Coil's attack. Let's deal with one hydra head at a time. That first. Then Hebert."

The Tinker frowned.

She glared. "What."

"There is… one possibility." He ventured, and she realized the frown wasn't distaste but rather a consideration.

"If Coil is aware of Sophia's identity… and her connection to Hebert…" He trailed off.

Emily stared at him. Then snarled.

"Mother fucker…" When it rains, it bloody well pours. She moved to pick up the phone.

Just before yanking it off the cradle, the damn thing rang, a chirp of a ring before it was in her hands.

She cursed, pushing a button to accept the call "Piggot speaking."

She listened.

Her eyes went wide, surging to her feet.

"What!?"

(X)

Within his base, Thomas Calvert, now with his mask and black body-suit in the visage of Coil, looked at the myriad of monitors arrayed in front of him and his grudging employee, Tattletale.

It'd been a busy few hours since he'd left the PRT. Hours that had cost him a considerable amount of money and resources. And a negotiation where he'd had to lay down assurances and assuage fears.

He'd been burning through timelines. More than he'd ever used in a single day. The earliest vestiges of a never before felt Thinker headache were beginning to bloom behind his eyes.

But he had no choice.

Piggot was not stupid. She was remarkably fast on the draw when she set her mind to it.

He had hours at best before Miss Alcott was questioned in just the right way with just enough information that he'd have the PRT smashing down his door.

He'd invested too much in the Bay to lose it over a single happenstance of his pet finding the One 'hero' in the city who could burn down half of it in a pique of anger.

He could still turn this around, and he very much would.

"Status?" He called.

"We're ready." Was Grue's darkness-warped voice, he could hear the crunching of bone and the whimpers of dogs in the background.

"This is Trickster. Are we doing this sometime today?"

"Faultline here… you have one shot Coil. This plan of yours doesn't go exactly according to specs, and we're gone."

"Of course." He nodded. He'd heard that line at least seventeen times by now.

All the pieces were in place. Now it was time to call check. "Tattletale."

Lisa stepped forward, her eyes panning over the cameras for a second. "Trickster, you're going in first-"

Chapter Text

Interlude: Tattletale

The Brockton Maximum security Prison for the New Hamshire state third district area of the PRT East-Northeast.

When people thought of a Parahuman ‘Jail’. They thought of ‘The Birdcage.’

That was not the final solution for all Parahumans.

Maximum security prisons were still in existence, and they could hold the vast majority of Parahumans once delivered into their walls.

But these weren’t simple ‘prisons’ anymore.

They couldn’t be. Not really. Between Masters and Strangers alone, anything that didn’t have PRT personnel, training, and security equipment was practically gift-wrapped for an escape attempt.

As such, Maximum security prisons were little more than an informal extension of the PRT personnel. One that ALL branches had a solid investment in protecting.

After all. If even after capture. Even after jumping through all the hoops. Playing by all the rules and succeeding in getting your ‘catch’ into PRISON, someone could come over and just break them out ANYWAY…

Well… It made the prospect of being a Hero outright pointless.

Some targets were acceptable. A fresh capture. The PRT HQ of any given city. Even the second to last step of catching the villain mid transport TO the containment facility.

But once they were THERE at that containment facility?

No.

The PRT would not accept ANY group ever breaching a Maximum security prison and getting away with a successful escape.

EVERYONE would answer on the Heroes side.

And Lisa did indeed mean everyone.

The last attempt, nearly five years ago ended up with Legend arriving in Miami. From New York, In Less than a half-hour.

Within a week, the entirety of the Gang that pulled off the attack and subsequent escape was either in prison themselves; or dead.

The message was clear.

Once the PRT actually gets them behind the walls. Prison escapes were off-limits.

Full stop.

So these days, there was typically one prison where everyone went to. Parahuman and non Parahuman alike. The only way you were remanded to a purely non-powered, low-security facility was if you were a juvenile or had no criminal record related to any known villain affiliations. Even if your old gang or what have you was out of state, you would still be remanded to a facility just like this one somewhere in the US.

Here in the Bay, Parahuman criminals were kept in specially sealed Vaults at the lowest level of a three-story basement. Every one of the cells could be flooded with Containment Foam instantly, as could the hallways, the maintenance access areas, and even the recreational yard held underground with artificial sunlight could be foamed to capture any out-of-control Parahuman or anyone really.

In this place, there had only ever been one attempted assault on the location back when the Teeth and Marquis were still household names here in the Bay. The Butcher had gotten it into his head to spring one of his captured Parahumans.

Nine minutes.

That was the response time.

Between minute one and minute nine, the entire PRT had been mobilized, as had the Protectorate, the then “Brockton Bay Brigade”, the full police department, and the national guard. Somewhere on the internet today, there was still an image of an entire military convoy of Tanks and military APVs grinding their way down first street.

Rubber bullets weren’t used by any of them.

Needless to say, that had been a disaster for the Teeth. And had marked their death kneel in the Bay. The Empire was not going to let them recover from losing almost 3/5ths of their manpower in the span of nine minutes.

Now, with Dragon’s systems possibly coordinating rapid response teams, you could cut that time by two to four minutes.

Her job was to make sure this went far better than that.

Namely, by completing their objective in three minutes.

Her eyes panned over the screen, just managing a glimpse of Coil in his black body suit a few feet beside her.

Is Confident/Is Nervous. Has run this plan before/Is attempting this with new information. Has a Trump Card in play/Is Desperate. You’re Crucial to the plan/Has a gun. Is ready to kill you if you don’t follow the plan/Has killed you already for not following the plan-

Pain lanced through her head. As usual, a confusing jumble of contradictions and false information bombarded her as soon as she looked at her boss.

Right. Gun. Ready to shoot her.

Play the part.

She turned her eyes over to the various screens and monitors.

Her power drank in the proverbial buffet. Dozens of snippets of information poured over her. Minute details becoming obvious.

“Trickster. You’re up first.” She called.

“Go ahead?” 

“Get us a radio. The walkies Coil gave are the exact same brand and model. You can switch it with one from one of the patrolling guards.” She threw a look her boss’ way.

A pause. One of the guards kneels to pick up the radio that ‘slipped’ off his belt.

‘Done.’

“They’re using frequency six two four,” Coil called behind her.

Knew that already/Has done this before. His techs have never done this. Working on hacking frequency now.

Fifteen seconds later.

“We’re in.” One of the technicians called. “Whatever they say, we’ll hear.”

“Can we give orders to them?” Somebody else asked.

The man looked at his computer, shaking his head. “Honestly, wouldn’t risk sending more than two. This gear is practically running on full power just to get a peek in through the back door. Anything more and Dragon’s systems will know something’s wrong and start tracing us back to this location.”

She tossed a look back behind her.

Unpleased/Unsurprised. Already knew what would be said. Non reactive. Non responsive. 

She turned back to the monitors.

“Alright. First things first, diversion. Biggest baddest, heavy hitters. Bitch, Grue, Ballistic, Spitfire I want you three over that west wall in thirty seconds, go!”

She sucked down a breath and waited.

She was the first to see it in the cameras as a blanket of Grue’s darkness rushed close. One guard on the tower did a double-take, leaning close to the railing to see if his eyes were deceiving him. The two men in the monitor room caught it five seconds later. One lunged for the walkie, the other for the phone.

The Guard on the tower spoke.

“Control this is northwest tower I...I’m not sure if-”

Then the darkness was gone, and she saw Bitch’s dogs lunging out to claw their way up the sheer stone wall.

Countdown start.

“Shit! Control! Control this is northwest tower. we are under attack by unknown numbers of parahuman forces! Under attack!” The man ran into the tower, emerging a second later with his friend, holding some tinker tech long-rifles.

“Grue, dark field as much as you can!” She shouted!

The black abyss bloomed out from him like a sheet of night; the cameras were all blacked out on the northern side.

She looked to the Travelers and Faultline.

The alarms were going off in the barracks, seventy-five on-site agents scrambling to put on their armor and grab their weapons as others scrambled from locations across the prison compound.

Massive stone slabs shot out of the dark like they were fired from a cannon. Moving impossibly fast, the stones hit the northwest tower with brutal, timed precision, almost rhythmic.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

By the fourth, the neck of the Tower was crumbling, the sheer weight of its crown making the thing tilt and snap itself in two to tumble onto the wall itself. One officer dove off the tower walkway onto a nearby roof, alive but definitely with something broken.

She didn’t see what happened to the other one, though her power helpfully provided its opinion on how many different ways he broke his neck.

The southwest tower was then hit by another impossibly fast slab of rock, while cameras on buildings four and six, closest to the cloud of darkness, caught sight of towers and walls being set on fire, blocking the nearest exits.

Thirty seconds.

“Faultline, you’re up.”

“Moving to the control tower.”

“No, no,” She shook her head. “That tower is a decoy. The computers there are just glorified hard drives where they keep their records. You’re heading to the very south corner of the east wall. Punch straight through, then into the building across, and then punch through two floors to get to the Room that’s housing the control center for the whole prison.”

“Better be right about this bitch.”

‘Well fuck you too, buddy.’ She grit her teeth...oh what she wouldn’t do to lead her straight into the barracks full of armed and angry guards!

She shook her head, once more tossing Coil a look out of the corner of her eye.

Their reason for being here was bullshit. That much was obvious to her the second he opened his mouth. No group of people was this important. Especially not to him. He’d sooner have them all killed in a prison yard ‘accident’ than go through all this trouble to get them out.

Wants to Draw the PRT and Protectorate away from PRT HQ. Wants to give them a target they can’t ignore. That they must respond with all their force. Is worried of reprisal. Reduced Worry due to Trump Card at play.

She still didn’t have enough information to discover what exactly his endgame was but she would.

The bank was a distraction job too. Distractions seemed to be Coil’s favorite modus operandi.

She wished she’d have taken a minute or two to peruse a newspaper before she collapsed on her bed after the bank.

Maybe she’d have found what was so important.

“Genesis!” She heard Faultline call through the radios. “Help us out here and flank them.”

“Genesis is making her way towards the armory,”  Ballistic called back over the comm. Faultline sighed in frustration.

“Then you come. The guards and automatic defenses are pinning us down! Where is the place anyway?”

“Okay, you just have to make a straight beeline to the control room. Should be about thirty yards from your position, right down the hallway and past the walls.”

“Ballistic?”

“Working my way there now. Gotta take down these foam guns before they get a bead on us. Just hang tight.”

Tattletale’s eyes panned over the monitors, her power feeding her more information.

Grue’s team splits up in the dark, hitting many targets, trying to get as much confusion as possible, cover Ballistic so he can use his power in peace.

Faultline takes care of turrets by splitting whole walls in half, cutting the wiring inside them, and bypassing others.

Newter is handling the normals on the south, ambushing, hit and run tactics.

Genesis slipped into the armory, hitting the guards before they can arm themselves.

Faultline sprinting to up-link room. Gregor’s covering her. Trickster running interference with the guards as he listens in on the walkie he has.

Then, through the chaos, Faultline reaches the control room.

The merc leader places a hand on the door. Then there’s no more door. That alarm joins in with the hundreds of others ringing through the place.

“I’m in. What next?”

Coil raised his watch. “Log into the server. The password is Tommy-Harry-Xavier-One-One-Three-Eight.”

Knew Already. The answer was practiced. Expected question. Expected timing. Has done this before. 

“Putting it in now...I’m in.”

“Next, there’s an emergency command prompt for the doors. It’s installed for an Endbringer evacuation. Press these next keys in this exact order, and it will immediately shut down all automatic defenses while it’s at it. None of the prisoners will be foamed, and the override code to end the evacuation protocols can only be pressed manually. Destroy the computer when you’re done to avoid that. ” Coil sat down at one of the computers and began reading the series of keys to Faultline himself.

Has done this before. Does not remember the exact code. Has it written down. Needs to read it out. Fresh information. Used me to get it. Has done this few times bef-

“Cell Doors to all quarters unlocked. Inmates freed. Defenses shut down.”

She gave her boss a thumbs up, and he leaned into a microphone.

“Greetings, gentlemen.” Coil addressed, probably hacking into the intercom.  “Congratulations. I have deigned to give to you what has been taken away. Freedom. If you wish to be free, then I suggest you cooperate with the parahumans already fighting on your behalf. Either fight, or stay in your cells, but whatever decision you make, do so quickly; this window is rapidly closing for all of you, and the Protectorate will not be kind to those they find still in here once we’re done. If you wish to arm yourselves, the password for the armory is seven, seven, three, eight, Beta, Zulu, nine. With that said.” Tattletale saw his mask shift; she didn’t need her power to see that he was smirking. “I give you leave to make certain they don’t capture you again.”

Has hacked the armory before. Knows code now by heart. Recent information. First time arming prisoners, is gleeful to see the result-

Inmates confused, wary, others are getting out of their cells, running. Others getting up, following, understand opportunity to escape.

‘One minute twenty-seven seconds. Right on time.’

He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with himself.

Plans to use inmates as cannon fodder and distractions against incoming heroes. 

Stall tactic. Wants to keep the heroes bogged down. Exhaust them?

No, simultaneous strike ready to take place. Other computer techies are tuned in to some other operation, whispering. 

She furrowed her brow, the crease only a reflection of the headache coming on as she tried to narrow down the list of possible targets. The banks were out, and a list of important people was discarded just as quickly.

One by one, her power definitively ruled out the other alternatives leaving only one target that was still viable. Much as she might not want to even consider it.

Wants to hit the PRT HQ.

End goal?

Drop-in public support?

No. 

Cause panic?

Unclear.  

Coil picked up his phone, dialed and spoke, his voice altering in its pitch and tone to sound alarmed as he spoke to the person on the other end. “This is agent James Edison-”

Her eyes widened as her power fed her new information as she listened.

Draw heroes out. Wards too. Leave PRT HQ undefended for a secondary assault

There was a call to his cellphone, which was answered on the second ring. “Speak.”

Being careful not to use his name. Person on the other end knows it. Avoiding use because of me.

“You’re sure?” He questioned before nodding. “Good.” He hung up the phone and then picked up the other he’d been using to call before.

Person on the phone just gave information. Important information. Possibly target of the whole operation.

The patterns were there, all coming together like the interweaving threads of a complex tapestry being pulled and strung together to paint its picture. Individual pieces impossible to discern alone, coming into an identifiable place in the design.

Luring PRT to a trap.

A trap, to what end!? This was still just the means for the goal.

“This is Trickster. Do I move in?”  His tone was becoming annoyed now.

“Patience, Trickster. You’ll move in shortly. For now, hang back, and then you will move in on my personal order.” Coil spoke into the watch. “Tattletale. Status on our heroes?”

Tattletale closed her eyes and thought, extrapolating information based on distance, transportation, and heroes that were reported to be on base.…

“Another forty-five seconds tops.” She answered.

“Genesis, I need you to control the prison’s automatic defense systems now. Stop wasting time.”

Is irritated. Genesis only unknown factor. Hasn’t done this before. Now nervous. Last piece needs to come together before feeling secure. 

“You try fighting your way through this crap!” They heard the girl shout. Lisa began switching through monitors trying to find her.

Finally, they did. Genesis was punching her way through a half dozen PRT prison guardsmen in a combat form that looked like a cross between an alligator and a gorilla.

“You’re going the wrong way!” She shouted. “There’s nothing in that room they’re guarding, it's just another decoy.”

“Then where the hell is it!?”

She stood up and back, as far away from the monitors and the blueprint layouts as possible. Letting the sheer scope of her eyes gather in everything as her power flooded her mind with information. She could feel a major headache starting to form in the base of her skull.

“Another building, building Three, Cellblock seven two. One cell was empty!” She shouted, then looked at the computer satellite imagery tracking the team.

Closest…

Bitch.

“Bitch! Into the building to your right!”

“Why?”

‘Because you’re gonna hack Dragon’s security systems today, dog girl.’ Now there’s a thought she never would have guessed to cross her mind. Any other person would have been thrilled. But nope, it has to be Bitch.

“I’m what!?”

“Do it, or we’re all fucked, and you wont’ see your dogs ever again because you’ll be arrested movemovemove!!” She shouted in a fast, highly pitched tone. She switched to another camera, one covering the courtyard, and saw Bitch wheel Brutus around and literally smash through the building’s cement wall.

She trampled several of the escaping inmates and combated guards that were in her way, crushing them under Brutus or tons of brick and cement.

“Turn left, down the hall!” She demanded!

Coil got up, muttering “human error” as he shook his head and then spoke into Genesis’ comm frequency. “Genesis, you have to move now; follow my orders to rendezvous with Bitch immediately! You’re still the only one that can upload the backdoor virus.”

“Goddamnit your plan sucks!” Genesis got on all fours and began bolting down the hall, charging through two guards who were foolish enough to stand in the way of a rampaging Gorillagator.

“Get off Brutus! He’s too big for the halls, and you’ll take too long to break through.”

“I’m not leaving my dogs!”

“You’re not!” She agreed. “You’re just telling him to stay. You’ll be right back. There are no guards in your immediate area; he’ll be fine. Relax.”

She heard the snarl in her ear. But saw Bitch dismount and move down the hall into the open cell blocks in a sprint.

Tattletale looked at Coil with exasperation in her eyes. Coil looked back, seeming to express a moment of solidarity in their exasperation.

“Ok...Ok…” Lisa muttered, chewing on a nail. “Cell...cell number…. Section N. Hall C2  Cell Number 1701."

Finally, she reached the cell.

“I’m here...”

“There’s gonna be a false wall or a fake floorboard; find it.”

As she waited, she turned her attention back to the others. The prisoners were now brawling with the guards in the middle of the prison courtyard. The overwhelmed force was completely on the back foot, and it was only a matter of seconds for the whole prison to be subdued as it was now.

Good. Lisa could already hear the sirens approaching from the various screens around her.

“Found it. Needs password.”

Lisa looked at the monitor. The faint wear and tear on the keys stood out like they’d been marked just for her.

“Larry-Oswald-Larry-Two-One-Three-Three-Seven-Four-Ulysses.” She blinked. Then snorted. LOL 2 1337 4 u? That was it.

“Now what?”

“Genesis is almost there. She’ll upload control to us here.”

Ten agonizing seconds later, Genesis barreled into the cell block, looking for all the world like she had just barreled through a Warzone.

Probably had.

“Alright, I’m here!”

Coil answered. “Put the USB into the control system and open the command prompt. Should pop up when the virus is inside the system.”

“You know if I didn’t know what a command prompt was, this plan would go to shit.”

He ignored her. “Input the following commands-” Tattletale’s power fed her new info. Bitch was already running back to Brutus.

Coil provided USB Hacking probes to Genesis, worth a pretty penny, should lock out Dragon from the computer. Permanent? No. Gamble. Ten-minute window tops.

“Gotta hand it to you.” She said. “Using their guns against them is pretty clever. How much did hacking Dragon’s security systems cost you?”

“Not much.”

Lying. Cost a fortune. Actually dented his budget a bit. Toybox make. 

“I believe that when you attack a castle, you don’t have the intention of destroying it. You aim to control it and use it against your foes. It’s common sense, and common sense and warfare make the most beautiful of bedfellows.”

“Riiiiight…” Tattletale focused back on the screens, hearing Coil input his commands via the hacking device.

“We’re in.” One of his technicians called. “Access to prison security systems. Ready to input commands.”

Tattletale felt a shiver down her spine. She thanked god that most, if not all, of the automatic defenses, were just non-lethal containment foam. The thought that Coil could draw in the heroes and wipe them all out in the span of a few minutes was not one she wanted to entertain.

“Good.” Coil relaxed back in his seat and raised his watch. “Everyone, auto defense systems are under our control. Take positions for defense and prepare to acquire objectives. Grue, Faultline, Spitfire, Ballistic. Head to the armory and lead prisoners with you. Help distribute firearms to the inmates, as well as yourselves.”

Two minutes... fifty-three seconds.

Seven seconds ahead of schedule.

“This is Trickster. I see Armsmaster riding down the street. Dauntless is right along with him too.”

“Sundancer,” Coil ordered.

“A-alright...you sure these places are empty?” Said the hesitant voice of the other female of the Travelers. Tattletale’s power fed her information but Coil beat her to it.

“They are!” He snapped. Tattletale was surprised. Not every day she sees her boss with a raised voice. “The buildings were abandoned after the Teeth’s first attempt at a mass breakout. Now use your power and cut them off!”

One of the technicians spoke. “Auto defense systems all activated, even backups. Ready to fire on your order.”

Tattletale saw the glare on her screen as Sundancer’s sun suddenly dropped down from the sky like Scion’s wrath. Dauntless stopped, turned on a dime to avoid the sheer heat, and flew above and past it.

Armsmaster was still limited to the laws of physics, though. He turned his bike hard, the whole thing falling and grinding across the asphalt, edging closer. He grabbed onto the Halberd mounted on the bike’s side and used the grappling hook to yank himself free in a move that would have ripped off anyone else's arm.

On the other hand, his bike was reduced to half-melted slag by the time it came to a stop. The army of PRT and police cars behind them were slamming on the brakes to not get any closer to the extreme heat.

“We have choppers inbound,” Trickster called.

“How many?” She asked.

“Thre-no, si- eleven. Eleven choppers coming at us!”

“I’m seeing an army of armored cars coming in here guys!”

Mother of fuck...so this is what a pissed-off Protectorate looked like.

“Newter are you almost to Trickster’s position?” Coil asked.

“I am. I see PRT vans and police coming from the roads Sundancer isn’t covering. They’re going around the sun.”

“Good. You know what to do when you get there.”

“On it.”

“This is Grue. We’re at the armory, arming up inmates now. Genesis opened the door for us before heading to the cell block.”

“Good. Keep at your posts. Faultline, head to point B with Gregor and Ballistic. Bitch, Regent, Spitfire, and Genesis head to the Courtyard with whatever prisoners are armed. You’ll be the line of defense behind the auto defense system and Sundancer’s sun.” Coil said. He got affirmatives all around and leaned back.

“Shit!”

Newter’s voice, surprised, alarmed. Not woun-

“Argh!”

Scratch that, got hit. Got hit by target. Only one on field that could do it. Armsmaster, has countermeasures. Came prepared. Tagged Armsmaster, but stunned. Shocked.

“Newter’s down. Armsmaster had some electrical field. Switched him with an unconscious guard on the North Wall.” Trickster.

“This is Grue, lots of inmates coming out. They’re pissed and looking to shoot. Still have some to go.”

“Faultline here. I’m going to get Newter now.”

“Yo. This is me to you. Just wanted to let you know we’ve got Miss-All-American-Immigrant with a BFG on a chopper. Guys with not so BFG’s are with her, these aren’t containment foam BFG’s by the way.” Regent.

“Engage,” Coil said, not minding Regent’s unprofessionalism in the slightest. “The inmates are armed. You know what to do.” He stood up and left his chair, giving Tattletale a pill bottle and walking away. “Tattletale, I need to make an important call, I’ll leave the rest to you. Have Trickster fall back.” Tattletale opened one of them up and downed a tablet with a swig from a water bottle.

“Got it.” She looked back into the screens as the drug began to null out the pain in her head, and she was fed more information.

Coil going to call PRT contact? No. But...someone involved with them. Has to do with the operation. Body language anxious. Important part. Lynchpin of the whole plan. 

She had another swig of water and watched the screens of the battle. Militia was shooting the Foamgun Turrets with a sniper rifle on the choppers. Impossible shots that she was pulling off with pinpoint precision. Using armor-piercing rounds to punch straight through the Turret’s casing to destroy the inner mechanisms and clear the way for Armsmaster and the others.

Dragon must have warned them.

The police and PRT forces that could get past the sun were now smashing down the prison gates with what amounted to a tank. The sheer shock and awe value outweigh the cost as they stormed in with an array of weapons leveled out against the prisoners.

Then the firefight started, and this whole thing went down into a clusterfuck of lots of dead people.

Three minutes, forty-six seconds in.

Velocity zoomed into the Prison, the red blur of his costume quickly mixing into the inmate crowd. Armsmaster was right behind him, standing at seven foot something in his power armor, which now bore a glowing riot shield coming out of the left vambrace as he advanced.

She could see Grue finishing arming the last inmate and giving a thumbs up to the camera.

Ballistic was with Sundancer and Trickster, Ballistic and Trickster guarding Sundancer as her sun was now the size of a beach ball. She was creeping it closer to the prison gates, giving the Police and PRT plenty of warning. Not wanting to harm anyone. Ballistic was firing molten hot pebbles, heated by the sun and skimming off the ground, and attacking PRT and police from their rear.

They were effectively trapped between the hammer of angry prisoners and the anvil of a very deadly contained fireball.

Tattletale turned and looked into the satellite feed currently covering the bay and another covering the state itself.

“This is Tattletale. Dragon is en route to the prison. In one of her quick response suits.” She spoke. “And….” Her power fed her more information.

“Wards are coming in. Assault and Battery are on their way. But you have another two minutes tops before they’re all there.”

“We have confirmation.” One of the Technicians said. “The New Wave Heroes have just left their homes; they’re en-route ETA one minute and thirty-four seconds.”

Fuck!

Too much. Way too much. The whole Empire could be here helping them, and it might still be too much. They’d never be able to win here.

What was Coil’s true goal...What is the snake hiding…He was telling the truth when he mentioned that he had a plan to get them all out of here. She made sure of that ten times over before accepting the deal.

And he didn’t fail.

It was that above all that had kept her from blowing his brains out herself.

“This is Trickster. I’ve got eyes on your new Ward Coil.”

Her power gave her information. Inflection, tone, voice patterns.

Trickster was telling her loud and clear what she’d been asking.

Lisa’s eyes moved to an ash-covered girl.

Target acquired.

--

Chapter Text

3.2

A Klaxon had me nearly leaping out of my bed my heart thundering under my ribs, and a sharp breath sounding out of me like I’d just sucked half the room’s air in a single gulp.

I stumbled, hands flailing, fingers tingling awareness and sharp clarity lancing into my brain better than any coffee or tea I’ve ever had.

I heard shouts from the others, cries of alarm and soon enough I’m stumbling out of my room and into the Ward common room as the klaxon goes silent, only the yellow emergency light flashing.

My eyes rove over my teammates, finding all of them in various states of sleepwear. Dinah is wide-eyed, standing next to Missy and damn near clutching at the Ward

The door whooshes open and Triumph is standing there.

“Emergency.” He barked. “Everyone suit up! Fast!”

Nothing else needed to be said, all the Wards immediately rushed back, ducking into their rooms and I was no different.

I found my undersuit first slipping it on easier now than it had ever been beforehand. The bins of Ash came next, opening five of them to let the grains of gray wash over me forming my armor, helmet, and ‘cloak’

I was the first one out of my door, Vista a close second, slipping on a helmet.

“What’s going on?” I called down to Triumph.

The former Wards captain looked up at me, tearing his eyes away from Dinah. “The prison is under attack. We’re scrambling everything to stop it. New Wave is being called in. Armsmaster, Dauntless, Militia, and Velocity are already en route. The National Guard is mobilizing.”

“Holy crap are you serious?” Dennis asked, coming out of his room, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull up his boot. “Coil?” He asked as Aegis, Gallant, Browbeat and Kid all started emerging from their own rooms, costumes in hand.

“Likely.” Triumph nodded. “Undersiders are confirmed on site.”

“Guess that proves they’re working with him.” Kid Win cursed. “This is way outside their MO.”

“You can ask them when you get there.”

“Seven-” A whimper and all our eyes snapped to Dinah, the Pre-Cog clutching at her head as Missy placed a hand on her back. “Seventy-eight point three six percent chance I’ll be caught if you go!”

That sent a cold chill down my spine.

“Shit.” Aegis cursed. Clutching his helmet with visible aggravation. “This goddamn guy!”

“The orders are already given.” Triumph added, his teeth visibly grinding. “This isn’t a target we can ignore. The city will be a warzone by tomorrow if we don’t go…” He growled. “I’m making the call. I’m overriding Piggot’s command in regards to myself. Vista, Browbeat. You’re staying with me!”

“WHAT!?” The girl screeched, “Are you serious! It’s a prison break! I can literally keep EVERYONE from escaping.”

“No, you cant.” Triumph answered easily. “The place will be swarming with people. Troopers, Criminals, Villains. You’ll barely have room to operate. Here, you can turn this room into an inescapable maze.”

“What about me!?” Clock raised his hand. “I can turn every wall and door inviolable until this whole thing blows over… and I have ice cream in the freezer that Vista’s gonna steal.”

Ignoring the joke the former captain shook his head. “No. There are going to be injuries. Likely life-threatening. Ones. They might need you to keep men and women alive until Panacea can reach them. There’s no kid gloves in this fight.”

I felt my spine stiffen.

Before anything else could be said, we heard the tramp of heavily armored feet rushing down the hallway.

“We’re out of time, move. I’ll take the heat from Piggot  if something happens!”

Dinah suddenly stood, rushing across the upper walkway. “It’s not a lie!” She shouted.

I thought she was heading towards Triumph, but the small girl grabbed at my hand and wrists, the rough texture of the ash roughly grinding against her fingers and hands.

“It's not a lie.” She cried, tears percolating along her eyes. “It’s not a lie! It’s not a lie!” She repeated, fingers squeezing mine as tightly as she could.

“I know you’re not lying Dinah,” I said, trying to console the girl.

Triumph stepped up to the walkway, marching up as he grabbed hold of the crying girl, lifting her.

I didn’t ask, but I didn’t need to.

He shook his head.

“Go.” He ordered. “Your fire can’t really be used in here safely. Go we’re out of time.”

The other Wards began to file out of the room; they looked about as uneasy as I felt.

I stepped, hesitating as I ground my teeth before following after the group.

We descended from the Wards dormitories down to the lobby and from the lobby out into the main garage where I felt like I’d just stepped into a full metal jacket style movie.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many troopers.

Men were arming themselves, helmets, body armor, weapons. Not containment foam rifles either.

“Wards!” I heard one of the captains shout. “Into the trucks! You’re moving out now!”

“Ashburn!”

My head snapped to the side, finding one trooper standing by his van, jerking his thumb towards it. “Come on! We’re your ride!” He said, voice nearly lost among the din and clamor of the mobilizing force around us.

I jogged over; the trooper opened his van door before ushering me inside.

It closed with a slam.

A second later he was jumping into the drivers seat, his partner seemingly checking a weapon shortly before we drove off, rushing out of the garage.

We moved and I saw the other Wards moving to hop into their own transports two apiece. If the others had come I probably would have been paired with Vista or Browbeat.

The shrill ring of a phone as we exited out the main gate made me jump, the passenger side trooper pulling free a PRT issued phone.

“Yeah?” He called.

I barely heard murmuring on the other end of the line, merely watching as the trooper nodded quietly.

“Got it.” He said, snapping the phone closed. He turned, looking at me over his shoulder.

“We’re getting reports. Coil put up some Tinkertech and is using it to track our communicators. Ya gotta get rid of the commlink.”

I frowned. “My helmets Tinkertech.”

“Armsmaster’s the one who sent out the warning. Said his stuff’s compromised too.” Here.” He reached down, under his seat. Pulling free a standard-issue helmet. “No comm on this thing. You won’t hear shit but you at least won’t be tracked. Might even be able to catch some of them off guard.”

I looked at the helmet, feeling my own misgivings scratch at the back of my head. I hadn’t had Armsamsters gift long but its functionality was impressive.

Giving it up, I felt like I’d be walking in blind.

Still. If I took it and the… whatever it was affected me then I was doubly screwed.

Letting the ash cascade off me with the sound of falling sand I removed the Tinkertech helmet and replaced it with a standard one. Letting the ash once again impose itself over the structure like a grainy skin.

“Here.” The Agent that gave me the helmet reached down, handing me his phone. “Some of the information we’ve got on the supervillains so far.”

I opened up the phone, it was almost impossible to read in the tiny text and bumpy car but I saw the Undersiders there. Grue the darkness maker, Tattletale the Thinker, Regent who did some kind of remote muscle control, and Hellhound with her monster dogs.

I skimmed over them, I got most of this information from the others earlier. Who else was here…

Travelers…

Faultlines crew…

Was Coil hiring everyone???

I was just gonna turn the page to the next when my ears finally picked up the sounds of the fight, gunfire in particular.

Absurd levels of gunfire.

“Christ, are they fighting a war?” The driver asked, turning to look out the front windshield.

“Prison breakouts have to be put down hard and discouraged. This shit is hitting the fan quick.” The driver answered. “Heard Dragon’s on her way too.”

“Shit.” The driver muttered.

I looked behind us; “How far behind us are the others?”

One minute; tops.” The passenger answered., Armsmaster, Dauntless Velocity, and Miss Militia are already on scene.”

I nodded. More to myself than them.

We rounded a corner and I was convinced I was suddenly looking at some scene out of some over-the-top B-movie.

Was that a sun in the middle of the road?

“We’re going around.” The agent said as he swerved the car and began driving toward a different street. I could see explosions down the road past the sun, which was melting everything in a nearby radius.

Even I could feel the heat of that thing. We went up over a road divider and around another building, a sharp turn after a block and another half-mile, and the van stopped outside an alley.

“You’re about fifty yards away from the prison. If you want to burn anything else for ash, use the dumpster stuff over there. The other Wards should be pulling in soon.” The agent told me as I got out and used my fire on the open dumpster to accumulate more ash for my armor.

“Good luck Ashburn!” He shut the door and drove off. I turned around, facing the alley and the small maze I would have to deal with before going right into a warzone. I licked my lips, gulped, and took a deep breath. I ran into the alley.

Charging onward and towards the wall leading into the prison. My hands were alight in flames as I gave a mighty leap pure Brute force letting me rise high enough to reach the prison wall in a single bound.

Standing atop it; what I saw was pure pandemonium.

Officers were in lines firing into prisoners and prisoners were firing into officers. Those that didn’t have any weapons were improvising them with molotov cocktails and bombs made out of gas tanks that they were tossing into the crowd of riot shields and armored trucks

I saw some kind of beast. All corded muscle and protruding bones, almost demonic-looking, riding through and bashing anyone too slow to get the hell out of its way.

Armsmaster was the only one I recognized in the hellish pit. His power armor was fully sealed up, panels covering his mouth and eyes with armor as he used his Halberd to fight while launching tear gas grenades from a wrist-mounted launcher.

I only just caught the blur of speed that was Velocity. I’m not sure how, but suddenly, in the air, one of the helicopters was lit up in a ball of fire, the whole thing spinning round and round before smashing down onto the wall across from me, the flaming hulk of metal tilting to crash into the street just outside the perimeter.

I jumped down into the chaos.

As I went to land, I felt my leg twitch out from under me and I landed off-balance, nearly falling, a second later I lost all of my remaining footing and crashed down onto the slanted roof face first and tumbled, falling three stories down to slam onto the prison yard pavement.

I blinked, dazed and confused.

What the hell?

The memory came to me. Vista complaining earlier. Twitching limbs that made her trip.

... I… Damnit. The Undersiders. The stupid-looking one. Regent!

I hissed, picking myself off the ground, and looked up to see if I could spot him.

I found him sitting atop one of the massive monsters I now knew to be Hellhound’s dogs. He waggled his fingers in a wave my way.

My hands blazed up to toss a fireball at him focussing through the involuntary twitch I forced the ash that covered me to keep me perfectly still, avoiding the involuntary movement.

I moved forward, snapping my armor into rigidity to counter him even as I let it go to let me move at all.

Before I got too far I felt like I was hit by a truck and sent flying. I skidded on the ground, shaking my head as I looked up, seeing another demonic-looking mutt with a dog-masked face villain riding my way.

Shit. Did they all know where I was?

I fell flat on my ass as it came close, sliding underneath the beast and firing a blast into its underside as I did. The dog gave what could only have been a pained yowl, but in this state, it could almost pass for threatening.

I got back on my feet, tossing another fireball into its side as it tried to turn to face me.

I clipped the pant leg of Hellhound, who screamed bloody murder as she turned and fell off the dog to try and bat away the fires on her ankle. I moved to charge, seize the opportunity, then I fell flat on my face mid-run, skidding on the ground with my speed, and again when I tried to recover and stand, the third time I actually pushed myself into a wall. Bitch grabbed onto the dog, and both mount and rider charged into the crowd, away from me.

I could hear a roar and looked up, seeing… something charging at me, its fist already swinging.

I blocked it with my ash-covered arm and realized I was looking at a hybrid of a gorilla, or at least… it had the arms of one.

Its body, legs, and head were some kind of reptile, with a squat nose and jagged teeth.

The thing snarled and grabbed me with its two massive paws, the sheer strength catching me off guard as she headbutted me. I staggered a little, but Genesis staggered more so, caught off guard by how tough my ash was.

I recovered first and reached up, a fist smashing into the thing’s throat, if its anatomy was even remotely human that must’ve-

I was lifted and thrown, my body punching straight through a concrete wall and into one of the prison’s administrative buildings.