Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arcadia was clearly the nicest place in Brockton. You could tell simply from the fact that the PRT ENE Wards went there. When I first moved, I’d spent time trying to figure out which ones were the Wards, but you’d be surprised how little information you actually gain when the only thing my power grants me is “there is a parahuman near-ish,” especially in school.

Each power nearby was like a little thread, a taste in the back of my mouth. I had to yank on it, slide their power down my throat to steal it. Each had their own flavor; as unique as snowflakes. Glory Girl, considering she had no secret identity, was easy to find. She tasted like, almost predictably, like gold, like safety and like power. It was enticing. I had to resist stealing it. She would’ve certainly noticed.

Stealing was more of a branding thing. It was a sharing, in actuality. The most I could handle of an individual power was about 50%, based on my limited testing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn off my passive theft, stealing just a percent of the power as long as I was close. Enough for a passive detector, at least.

Once you left the central area of Brockton Bay, especially as you headed down by the Docks, things got far worse far quicker. Red and green marked buildings, both decrepit and not, though very few things were on the ‘not’ side. It was shameful, honestly, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

A girl, not much older than me, maybe freshly 18 walked by me. She was some variety of east asian, prominently wearing the green and red. I doubted she was going to do anything. It wouldn’t have mattered if she did.

Being a parahuman made you more important. People try to pretend like being a minority made us less important, but they were wrong. In the 30 or so years since Scion first appeared, all of culture has shifted. Once comics, now young kids want to trigger and become heroes like their favorite Protectorate members. I remember having a Cinereal lunchbox back when I lived in Atlanta. She was the first cape I’d ever met.

She made an incorrect choice though. She decided to play the hero. It was a pointless endeavor, really. She waded through society’s expectations, presumably, content to be a pawn in somebody else’s game. Do this, do that, whatever. She didn’t understand that she was part of a better breed.

I didn’t hate regular humans in the slightest. It was just pointless to pretend like we were all equal. I wasn’t going to kill them for fun or anything, it was just pointless to act like they should be in power. Another reason the PRT sucked. They decided people without power should have governmental power over those with it. 

I wasn’t ever going to be a pawn. I was going to make a name for myself. Nova Romero would be etched into the walls of history. To make it in this world, you needed two things. Parahumanity and ruthlessness. Brockton Bay was the perfect microcosm. The PRT was falling behind to the gangs because they didn’t have the same disregard for the rules that the Empire and ABB did.

The Empire was winning because they had both in spades. The Empire was completely wrong though. I hated them more than the PRT or ABB. It just seemed pointless to be racist. You’re all parahumans, it’s incredibly fucking stupid to stare at the outside when the thing that matters is in the brain.

But oh well. The Empire’s time would come. I’d take them down soon enough. I would leave my mark on the world, regardless of what anybody else had to say about it. 

My opportunity came a few weeks ago. It wasn’t large enough to make the main story of the evening news–more ABB activity fell to that–but it had gotten a mention. The Ruby Dreams Casino, one of those areas that was barely even considered Brockton Bay, was hit. A small group of villains, barely caught on camera, but none looked very old. Four of them, though it was tough to tell powers from the limited footage someone had posted on PHO. Someone could generate darkness, another had these giant beast monsters seemingly under their control. They were good at getting in and out, but not particularly great at establishing a reputation.

That’s where I’d slide in. I needed to join them. I’d give them branding, maybe more of a brawler if they needed it–I couldn’t tell how strong those beasts were on video–and in exchange I’d get a group. Though Avarice was the important name, I can’t remember the last person I saw make it big without a group. They were the Triumvirate afterall, not the ‘One Person and separately another One Person and also separately a Third Person with No Relation to the Other Two.’

That’d be a mouthful anyway.

I’d stalked this group since then. PHO wasn’t super helpful, but it did confirm my guesses. The girl with the beasts was Hellhound aka Rachel Lindt. I’d hoped to get lucky with her on the street, but to no avail. I’d had to sleuth around PHO, finding all mentions of ‘Hellhound’ or ‘Rachel’ or ‘Rcahel’ or ‘Bitch’. That last one was the worst. People swore on PHO, who would’ve fucking guessed? It wasn’t like match cases helped either. I’d filtered through those and created a rough map of her sightings.

Then I had to go canvass. I asked around, under the guise of a scared tourist. That was a role I slipped into vaguely easily. I was just very concerned about my safety and didn’t want to interact with any potential villains, so of course I wanted to know where she’d been spotted before!

I did talk about it at school. I’d carefully built a reputation there. Despite having moved here the summer before my sophomore year, I’d quickly risen to the ranks of most popular in Arcadia. Of course, I would never be quite Glory Girl, but not being publicly parahuman made me far less polarizing too. 

I kept a similar lie as I asked people in school, specifically wherever I felt a Ward. Hopefully, I’d asked one of them and they gave me decent information. It was hard to tell without actively cannibalizing their powers and I didn’t want to risk being caught as a civilian. It wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary- it couldn’t be, or else I would stop being ‘Nova Romero, perfect but a little bit bitchy girl’ and start being ‘Nova Romero, cape freak.’ 

Couldn’t let that one happen. Regardless, the rumors had all led me back to the Docks. I couldn’t get any more specific than that, unfortunately. It was dark out and I wore the costume I had pieced together. My orange hair cascaded down my shoulders, a far cry from the braids I oft wore in my civilian identity. A black trench coat over a black and red shirt that supported my bust. Black gloves covered my fingers, ostentatious earrings dangling from my ear and orange glasses on my nose. It was a costume made for extravagance, not particularly practical. It had taken me forever to get the sewing right. I was lucky that I had a neighbor with sewing skills. It took me time to sort through all of my mental options, to nail the sewing as I stole it each night to practice it on my own.

Luckily, most non-parahumans don’t notice that. I was about ready to turn a corner when four tastes leaped into my mouth. One earthy and dark that I had to guess belonged to the darkness generator; Grue, one mist-like and airy, the such conceptual tastes that I had to assume it was some variety of thinker, one electric yet soft and a bloody, rage-filled flavor on the tip of my tongue. That one had to be Hellhound’s.

I stood in front of the Redmond Welding building, large iron gates and driveway staring at me and I began to pull on the mental threads. The thinker power flooded into my brain, a voice beginning to help me as I scaled the fence.

Chapter Text

Lights on; haven’t been quiet. They know you’re coming. The words buzzed in my mind, slightly staticky. It took a moment to diagnose the power. Some sort of informational cascade, from the looks of things. I grimaced as I hit the ground, brushing myself off. Better to face the music now.

“I told you we’d have a guest, didn’t I?” A girl emerged from the windowsill, long blonde hair flowing down a purple-ish bodysuit, a domino mask hiding her eyes. Her mouth was contorted into a grin that reminded me of an animal I just couldn’t place. Tattletale. Obviously, the Thinker whose power I was ever so helpfully stealing. Not attacking; don’t wanna blow cover.

“I’m glad you rolled out the red carpet for little old me.” I smiled up at her, raising my arms dramatically. Movement caught my eye, a shadow too dark in the corner spread slightly to reveal a shadowy figure, tall and muscular. He took a step forward, but didn’t make a move to engage me yet. Probably for the best. Grue; darkness is his.

“It’s not everyday somebody comes to visit us. Certainly not everyday they have the audacity to try to weaken my power.” Tattletale shrugged, leaning out of it with relaxed ease. “But hey, I’ll be charitable. You give it back and I’ll let you inside so we can discuss.” Doesn’t want to make a scene.  

“If you insist.” The misty flavor was gone on my tongue as I released the strings I was holding mentally. The four swirled around on the back of my tongue and I resisted the urge to take one. I was going to be polite.

Grue stood up to me, voice gruff. “Don’t mess around. We’re doing you a favor, not the other way around.”

“Aye aye captain.” I mock saluted, letting him lead the way onto the ground floor of the abandoned factory. They hadn’t bothered cleaning this part, obviously, still a dusty, rusty, spider-infested area.

The crowd that was there was eclectic, to say the least. I knew three of them, Tattletale, Grue and the cropped auburn hair and dog mask that could only belong to Hellhound. The fourth member had black hair like a mop around a venetian style mask. Tattletale stood there in the center, arms crossed.

“So.” She asked. “Do you try to spin your words to convince us, or should I cut to your point?”

“I don’t mind either way.” I shrugged. “I’ll cut to my own chase. I’m gonna join you guys.”

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” The one who I didn’t know said.

“She’s fully confident.” Tattletale said, as if I wasn’t there. “There is no part of her that believes that she’s not exiting here as an Undersider.”

“Am I wrong? You guys could use more muscle.”

“Hey, look, I’m all for more hot women on the team but we don’t even know what you can do, much less to call you muscle.” Mophair shrugged. 

“Power theft. Plain and simple.”  To demonstrate, I tugged on the strings I’d worked back to him. I could taste the gentle buzz as I used it, feeling his nervous system twitch as I forced a muscle to spasm.

To his credit, his tone didn’t falter. “Welp, I’m convinced."

“Don’t like her.” Hellhound grunted. “We have Judas, Brutus and Angelica. What do we need another for? Less cash for each of us.”

“Alternatively, and I’m not advocating for her per se, but an additional person would allow us to do bigger heists.” Grue said. “But I don’t like someone figuring out our base and marching right up.”

“But if we just let her go, now she has all of our secrets.” Tattletale continued. “Truly a difficult situation you’ve put us in, Avarice.”

“It’s not that difficult. I join you. The end.” I shrugged. “You’re overcomplicating it.”

“I don’t think you get a say on it if we're overcomplicating it.” Grue said, taking a step towards me. 

“I feel like this is kind of an easy problem, no?” Yet-to-be-named man chimed in. “Send her on a suicide mission. If she does good, she’s in, if she doesn’t, we’re also good.”

“That’s…” Grue paused. “Not an awful idea, Regent. Regardless of how stupid of a move it was to come here like this though, I don’t know how I’d feel about sending someone to die.”

“Or I just don’t die.” I chimed in. “I’m more talented than you’re giving me credit for. Maybe I’ll blow you guys away.”

Tattletale sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, Regent’s right.”

“Hey!”

“The ABB have been on our backs lately. It would be helpful if someone could get them to leave us alone, and quite frankly we don’t have that kind of offensive potential. We’re hit and runners, not prepared for a long fight.” Tattletale explained. “We’ve got intel that there’s gonna be a weapons drop down by the boardwalk tomorrow night, around 11 pm. Break it up and then come back here and Wednesday, and I’m sure there’ll be a slot for you.”

“Works for me.” I shrugged. “Shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Looking forward to doing business with you.” I drew the earthy flavor into me, darkness seeping from my skin as I exited the building.

Truth be told, it could’ve gone worse. Much worse. I didn’t have to get in a fight. My confidence had to be up around the Undersiders; I’d stolen that from Tattletale, the constant ‘I know everything’ energy. The downside was that now I was guaranteed to be in over my head. I had talent and I had skill, but I was fresh out of the experience needed to try to break up a whole gang.

I took the long way to the orphanage, making sure that I couldn’t taste any powers. Tattletale’s power was intense; Foxlore, I’d name. It was easier to have a mental name for each power, associate them with flavors. I changed in an alley a few blocks away, neatly folding the costume pieces and placing it in the duffel bag I had hidden there earlier. The clothes I put on were not built for night, unfortunately, even if Brockton Bay was generally warmer than most of the north. They were plain, drab, nothing like Avarices and nothing like the Nova at school. Instead, I was Nova the orphan, the girl who barely survived the Slaughterhouse Nine and now was treated with a ten foot pole because they were sure I was gonna snap at any moment.

I climbed in through the window and crept into bed for the night. Tomorrow would be a lot more violent.