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2016-12-26
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2017-03-09
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Everything and Nothing

Summary:

When faced with her bullies' apparent immunity to disciplinary action, Taylor Hebert decides the best course of action is to use her new power to investigate. After acquiring enough evidence to sink Sophia once and for all, she personally delivers it straight into the Protectorate's hands. Unfortunately, things don't go quite the way she had planned.

Chapter 1: 1.1

Chapter Text

Everything and Nothing

1.1

Where would a reasonable person draw the line between investigating and stalking? I wasn't entirely sure at this point, but I'd definitely blown straight past that boundary weeks ago. Maybe I should have felt more guilty about that: blatantly invading the privacy of strangers, poking around their personal spaces, and watching their private routines; but I found that the more I watched them, the less the guilt bothered me. It was probably a sign that I should stop, but I was on a warpath, a quest for retribution, and I had justice on my side.

Probably.

Armsmaster's workshop was cluttered, cluttered but not messy. There was so much stuff packed into the space: tools, working equipment, pieces of incomplete tinkertech, pieces of complete tinkertech that had been disassembled. At first glance, the overwhelming expanse of stuff assaulted the senses, blurring together into obscurity as the brain tried and failed to process the hoard into understandable, individual entities. However, once you'd taken the time to really study the area's layout and the way Armsmaster navigated it, it became clear that every object had its place: organized in relation to the other objects around it, and its general position in the room to give Armsmaster the most efficient workflow possible.

Not that I could really make heads or tails of the layout myself, but from the way Armsmaster worked and used the space, it was obvious that the system was in place and utilized.

Today, the Tinker was seated at his computer, typing away furiously at what looked like some sort of code. I'd always been pretty decent with computers, but as I peered over his shoulder I couldn't make heads or tails of what he was working on. He typed quickly, and the programming language was obscure enough that he could have been slamming his hands randomly into the keyboard and I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

As I stood there, pretending that I was some sort of code breaker trying to decipher a secret language, my nerves were making my stomach do somersaults. I was stalling. I'd come here today with a specific purpose in mind, a plan to take action, but once again I was finding it much easier to be a silent, unseen observer than to actively engage others. Today was the perfect opportunity too. Armsmaster had a visor on: a smaller tinketech piece than his normal helmets, probably designed to be used as an aide to his work here in the workshop. It didn't look like it was specifically meant to conceal his identity, but it was better than nothing. He'd probably feel better about a meeting with something covering his face.

Not that it mattered at this point; my power kind of invalidated secret identities. I had been attempting to avoid looking too closely at things I probably didn't need to know, but it was a bit like pretending to turn away from someone when I actually had eyes on the back of my head: the illusion of privacy, something to make myself feel better more than anything.

A sudden movement from the Tinker startled me, as he quickly leaned to the side and grabbed a small metallic can from a little rack hanging off his desk. He dexterously popped the tab with one hand, still typing with the other, and drank its contents in one sitting. After dropping the now empty container into a nearby slot, he returned to his coding with renewed gusto.

Metaphysically ringing my hands together, I reconsidered my options. Armsmaster seemed pretty busy; and he was so focused he might take offense to being disturbed. Not that he wouldn't take offense to a stranger suddenly appearing in his workshop, but...

Miss Militia seemed to be pretty nice too.

A glance revealed her office to be empty. Damn. Maybe she was...

No, I was just putting things off now. I'd already devised a plan and had decided that reaching out to Armsmaster had the best chance of getting anything done. He wasn't quite the ideal Hero I'd always envisioned him to be, but then again, none of the heroes were exactly as I'd imagined them. They were just people after all, underneath the costumes and ignoring the powers. Not that they were bad people either, a certain Ward aside, but they had their flaws just like anyone else. The point was that Armsmaster was a pretty serious, matter-of-fact guy, and if I could get him to believe me, I was confident that he'd actually try to address the matter.

Of course, if this plan fell through I could always try going to the PRT Director instead; but I'd really prefer to avoid a direct conversation with Director Piggot if I could help it. From what I'd seen of her, she took her job very seriously but was rather hard to deal with. Add that to her 'the mission comes first' mindset and chances were that things wouldn't end up going my way.

No, it had to be Armsmaster. Or at least, I had to try with him first. If that didn't work out...

I was still stalling. I needed to jump in head first.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and moved to a spot a few paces to his left. Far enough to hopefully be non-threatening but close enough for an easy conversation. Then, I appeared, just enough for him to interact with me but not enough to be recorded. My costume wasn't great, just some cargo pants, a baggy sweatshirt, and a cheap domino mask I'd 'borrowed' from the Protectorate's stock, and I'd prefer it if any identifying features that could be picked out about me weren't immortalized in a digital medium.

Taking the proverbial plunge, I made myself known.

"Armsmaster?" I called out in a tone more meek than I would have liked. He flinched hard before going absolutely still. The motion, though brief, was so violent that I couldn't help but flinch as well, before cringing from my face to my hands. There were a few beats of silence as Armsmaster remained perfectly still. Eventually, he called out a response.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" he demanded, his tone tight. I frowned, studying him. I had shown myself, he just hadn't turned to look for me. With a growing suspicion, I took a moment to peer inside his visor from his own point of view. Sure enough, a number of camera feeds were overlaying the device's screen showing the interior of the Tinker's workshop.

Taking a hesitant step forwards, I brought an arm up to try and catch his attention.

"I'm right-" His head snapped around to face me and I froze.

"Who are you? How'd you get in here?" As he inched away from me, rolling slowly backwards in his chair towards another computer terminal, I realized I had to start making my case before he panicked and lashed out at me.

"I- I'm not a villain or anything. I just- I have something I think you should see." I pulled a manila folder out and made to set it on his desk, before realizing that there were no empty spots at the moment. "Um," I turned back to him, just in time to see him subtly reach under the desk of the terminal he'd been inching closer to. Taking a peek at the spot, I noticed the hidden panel of buttons right as he pressed one. I cringed, waiting for some weapon system to boot up and gun me down, but nothing happened. A silent alarm maybe? If so, I needed to be quick.

"Could- would you please take a look at this?" I asked, holding the folder out for him to take. He made no sign of moving, and after a beat of uncomfortable silence, I prodded him again. "It's not a trap or anything dangerous, just photos. It's- Shadow Stalker has been violating her parole and I have proof." As his ominous silence stretched on, I decided to take another peek at his visor.

The interface was alight with a flurry of activity, as system logs and chat windows chased each other across the screen.

Research and Development level lockdown initiated.
Master/Stranger quarantine protocols engaged.
M/S Lockdown team mobilized. T-minus 3 minutes for full mobilization.

Shoot. Okay, that was bad, but not the end of the world. They couldn't actually keep me here, even with the Rig on full lockdown, but that wasn't my main concern. I needed Armsmaster to be willing to listen to what I had to say, and if he believed he'd been mastered or something there was no way he'd hear me out. I turned my attention to one of the chat boxes.

D: What's going on?
A: Possible Stranger. Not showing on cameras/sensors.
D: Where?
A: Here.
D: The Rig?
A: Here.
D: Oh.

Damn. Maybe I shouldn't have only partially revealed myself. I was beginning to suspect that it had killed any credibility I might have had.

"Just- hold on a minute, okay? If I lay the pictures out for a camera, would you be willing to at least look them over?" Armsmaster's head twitched to the side, back towards his desk. After a moment, he turned back to me.

"Can you show them to a camera?"

"I-" I bit my lip. If he was willing to engage me at all, then I had to take the plunge: go all-or-nothing. This was too important to me to give up on now. "Yes." I finished, opting for simplicity and willing myself to be seen by the electronic systems.

Armsmaster stiffened as I all but popped into existence on his camera feeds. The numerous angles focused on me made me a bit self-conscious, but I soldiered on regardless.

"So, uh, which- err. Where would you like me to put the pictures?" There was another period of silence as Armsmaster devoted part of his attention to his communications.

D: I can see and hear her now.
D: She sounds young.
D: Did she tell you why she's here? What the pictures are for?

"You claim you have evidence that Shadow Stalker has violated her parole?" Armsmaster prompted me, probably more for the benefit of whoever he was talking to. I nodded.

"She's done more than that. It's just, I wasn't able to get evidence of the stuff before..." I trailed off as Armsmaster lapsed back into silence. Meanwhile, his conversation partner continued to advise him.

D: Humor her?
D: This seems like it might be personal.
D: She may have discovered Shadow Stalker's civilian identity.

I could see the muscles around Armsmaster's jaw tense as my heart hammered in my chest. This wasn't going the way I'd planned it at all. After a moment, he prompted me again.

"You had to bring this evidence here? To my workshop? Personally?" I swallowed thickly and nodded. He continued. "I find it difficult to believe that your evidence is genuine when you seem so personally invested in showing it to me. Why are you trying to cast doubt on Shadow Stalker?" I found myself bristling at the implication in his question.

"It's not enough that she's in the wrong? That she's dangerous? I can't believe you're not more concerned about this! I brought this here personally because I wanted to make sure you'd actually look at it, instead of having someone else brush it under the rug. Isn't it your responsibility to-" He held up a hand to stop me.

"You can claim to have good intentions, but the way you've gone about this, I cannot help but be suspicious of your motives. What I see, is an unknown individual, using her power to trespass in a restricted Protectorate facility, and who may or may not be attempting to sabotage the career of one of my Wards for unknown reasons." He paused, letting the weight of his statement sink in.

I could feel myself deflating. He was right. I was definitely a suspicious individual, I couldn't honestly deny that, but there was no way I could put my faith in conventional methods. What was I meant to do: send my evidence in the mail and hope the bureaucracy took it as anything more than a bad prank? No, I needed to make sure my case was heard: that it was taken seriously.

Armsmaster continued.

"If you want me to even consider taking this as more than a poorly thought out attack, I need a reason to believe you. If what you're saying is true, why have you devoted so much personal effort to it?"

I tried to ignore the sick feeling rising in my stomach as I considered his question. Could I give him a reason to believe me? I'd tried multiple times to report the bullying to the staff at Winslow and I'd always been brushed off and dismissed. I couldn't believe that it was going to happen all over again, all because Sophia fucking Hess had powers: was a Ward. No one was willing to help me, not even when...

I looked back up at Armsmaster, studying me with a cautious intensity.

"You-" My voice waivered, and I had to stop to swallow down the lump in my throat. I took a moment to center myself and when I spoke again my tone was more level. "You know about trigger events." It wasn't really a question, but he nodded anyway. I'd only really discovered the full weight of the term while snooping around through the PRT's computer systems. There was no way he wouldn't know. "Shadow Stalker and- some others, were responsible for mine."

I felt like I'd just dropped a bomb in the room, though instead of flash and bang, the effect was the crushing weight of a heavy silence. Eventually, Armsmaster broke it.

"This was while she was in costume?" he asked, in a tone that made me think he already knew the answer.

"No," I all but croaked.

There was a pregnant pause as both Armsmaster and I stared at one another, neither of us quite sure what to do or say. Right as the silence began to feel like it had stretched for too long, he spoke again in a slow and measured tone.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. Do you see that table?" He pointed to a table in the center of his workshop and I turned to it. It had a glass surface with a few devices resting on top. Underneath the glass, a number of pictures and what looked like diagrams of various devices were spread out. He continued.

"In a moment, I'm going to type a command into my computer to raise the surface of it. Once I do, you're to spread any evidence you have out underneath the glass. Understood?"

"Yes," I replied, nodding for good measure.

I decided to actually walk over to the table, rather than simply moving next to it; I didn't want to spook Armsmaster any more than I already had. As I did, Armsmaster reached behind himself and tapped a few keys on the terminal without taking his eyes off me. With a faint hum, the surface of the glass table began to smoothly rise up, lifting a few inches before stopping. Not wanting to waste any time, I started sorting through the pictures I'd taken and laid them out in groups.

The first group I set out was what I'd call 'passive evidence.' If you knew anything about Sophia or her role as Shadow Stalker, the items I'd photographed could easily be linked to her, even though there was no direct association. I'd documented her stashes of lethal bolts and the area around their hiding places to give context. I had pictures of bloody clothing and spare costumes that she hadn't been willing to turn into the base for cleaning, fearing they were too suspicious. I'd found her maps and plans for unauthorized patrol routes where she'd be unlikely to encounter other heroes. It was all damning evidence in its own right, with the right context.

The second group, however, was my coup de grâce. This was 'active evidence,' things that were directly connected to Shadow Stalker because I'd caught her doing them. I had pictures of her being too rough with petty criminals and then documented their wounds afterwards. I was able to catch her restocking one of her lethal bolt caches, one that I hadn't even found before. I even managed to catch her using those same lethal bolts: fighting a new group of villains and almost killing one of their members. I'd taken pictures of his wounds and even of the aftermath when the bolt had to be dug out and the puncture closed with stitches.

There was no way the Protectorate would be able to ignore all of this, not when I'd just shoved it right under their noses. I'd forced myself not to act rashly and taken my time putting together my case. Now, there was no way Sophia could escape this; it was checkmate.

Turning back to Armsmaster to show him I was done, I took another peek at what he was doing.

A: Once I seal the table, foam us.
D: Are you sure? Your workshop...

As the surface of the table began to sink back down in front of me, I watched Armsmaster in anticipation. He hadn't responded yet, apparently reconsidering his options. As I racked my own brain, trying to think of a way I could wrap things up while convincing him he didn't need to try to capture me, or rather that he couldn't capture me even if he did try, he finally responded.

A: Do it.

Right as the surface of the table sealed shut, four sprinkler like nozzles practically exploded from the ceiling and began coating the entirety of Armasmaster's workshop with a thick, yellowish solution. Wherever the solution hit, it began expanding into an extremely sticky foam.

Of course, I was no exception.

As the containment foam began to cover me, I experimentally pulled at it, interested in how tough the PRT's primary non-lethal weapon actually was. Almost immediately, I found my limbs sticking together and unable to move. The foam expanded quickly and stuck to me as easily as it stuck to itself. As porous as it was, it seemed like it should be light and fluffy, but was actually rather heavy and resistant to force. It felt like being swallowed by a giant, unyielding sponge: soft enough to cushion my landing as I fell over onto my face, but tough enough as it solidified to keep me absolutely immobile.

Starting to feel a bit claustrophobic as I was entombed by the stuff, I vanished myself and took a quick look around the workshop.

The containment foam had covered everything, Armsmaster included, and was still in the process of expanding. As I watched, I had a moment of numb horror as I wondered how much of Armsmaster's stuff would be unrecoverable after this. Looking at him, he seemed to be taking the affair with silent dignity, but I couldn't tell how much of that was false composure versus actual indifference.

After a moment of thought, I stepped over to him and allowed myself to speak into his ear.

"I'm sorry about this, but thank you."

He made a startled noise, muffled through the foam, and I couldn't help but wince again. I'd have to think of a way to make this up to him.

Once he'd calmed down, of course.

Chapter 2: 1.2

Chapter Text

1.2

"I should have just heard her out, right from the start. If only I hadn't overreacted, I could still be peacefully tinkering in my lab right now, instead of sitting in a confinement cell."

Armsmaster wasn't actually saying those things, of course. I was just putting words in his mouth because I was feeling guilty. His actual thoughts were probably curses and condemnations, rather than regret.

It had taken the PRT squad nearly an hour to clear out Armsmaster's workshop. They'd slowly combed their way through the foam, dissolving it inch by painstaking inch in their attempt to find me. I'm sure the fact that I hadn't been there any more wouldn't engender any trust for me in Armsmaster's mind, but at least I'd let myself be recorded. That way, they had proof that he wasn't crazy.

Not that it did him any good in avoiding confinement.

The PRT apparently had really strict rules about how to handle people involved in a Master/Stranger incident, and not even Armsmaster could weasel his way out of them. At the moment, he was sitting in a small confinement cell as a number of troopers performed a variety of tests to confirm who he was and his psychological state.

I wanted to apologize again, but that would probably only make things worse. Instead, I'd sequestered myself away in a vacant office on another level of the rig.

I was seated at the computer, having logged myself in with a pilfered username and password, and was currently doing research about the PRT's protocols for Master/Stranger screening. It seemed like Armsmaster still had a good portion of the rather intense vetting process ahead of him.

What a wonderful way to spend the day after having all your work foamed.

Sighing, I peeked back into his workshop to observe the proceedings.

A number of PRT troopers were present, standing guard over the space while a technician worked on a number of mounted cameras and sensors. These were new, and pointed squarely at the table where I'd laid out my evidence. Thankfully, the pictures had been protected from the foam by the glass; though the PRT seemed hesitant to interact with them. They seemed to think the photos might be dangerous, or at least suspicious enough to warrant caution. Whatever the case, I was glad that they were at least looking at them.

My attention was pulled back to the computer I'd claimed when something popped up in the bottom left of the monitor. It was a chat box, and the name next to the message practically made my heart stop.

Dragon: Excuse me, but I've noticed some suspicious activity at this terminal. I don't mean to alarm you, but is this perhaps the individual who was speaking with Armsmaster earlier?

My knee-jerk reaction was to turn the computer off, but I forced myself to calm down. It wasn't like I was in any more danger than I was before; my power was good for that. However, being confronted by the greatest Tinker in the world was enough to kick my fight-or-flight instincts into high gear.

Once I'd managed to calm myself down a bit, I typed out a tentative response.

G_Lander: I was talking to him, yes.

It was a vague enough response that it could have been me replying or the actual Mr. Lander, depending on who Dragon thought she was talking to.

Dragon: May I ask why you've chosen to remain within the Protectorate Headquarters to illegally access the computer systems?

Fuck.

G_Lander: I wasn't doing anything bad. I felt badly that Armsmaster got into trouble because of me.

Dragon's response was near instantaneous.

Dragon: Armsmaster is not in trouble. He is confined as a necessary precaution. On that topic, would you be willing to confirm an aspect of your powers with me? Armsmaster is a friend of mine and I've been worried about him.

G_Lander: What do you want to know?

Dragon: Does your power act on your surroundings or on yourself?

I paused. Was she worried that I'd mastered him or messed with his brain? I wasn't sure how much I should give away about my power, but if I lied or she caught me obviously trying to hide something it would only make people more suspicious.

G_Lander: My power is entirely personal. It doesn't directly affect other people like that.
G_Lander: You don't have to worry.

Dragon: I'm glad to hear that. Thank you for telling me; it can be difficult to confide in strangers.

G_Lander: You're not a stranger. You're Dragon.

Dragon: :-) Yes, I suppose I am.
Dragon: Pardon me, but I haven't asked for your name yet. What should I call you?

That question brought me up short. I hadn't decided on an alias yet, hadn't been too concerned about it really. All of my attention lately had been focused on getting evidence of Sophia's wrongdoings and deciding what to do with it. Now, all of a sudden, I found myself feeling rather underprepared.

G_Lander: I haven't actually picked one yet. I'm sorry.

Dragon: That's perfectly fine. I apologize for being blunt, but would I be correct in assuming that you've gotten your powers fairly recently then?

I started to type out that it had only been since the start of January, over two months ago, but I decided against being so specific.

G_Lander: Yes, it was pretty recent.

There was a brief pause this time before the next response.

Dragon: I think you may have made some poor choices in how you've addressed this situation, but I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt. My instincts tell me that you're a good person.

G_Lander: I am! I want to be a hero, to help people, but this is very important to me. I said I felt badly about Armsmaster, and I do, but I'm also worried about my evidence. I want to make sure it's taken seriously and not just thrown away or something.

Dragon: Why do you think it would be thrown away?

G_Lander: Because no one has listened to me so far!

Dragon: Have you tried presenting evidence before this?

I caught myself getting worked up into a frenzy, starting to type out a message about how the school never gave me the benefit of the doubt on reported bullying, how no one ever took my side when it involved Sophia and her friends, but once again I forced myself to calm down and erased what I'd been typing. The story would have had too much information, too personally indentifying. It seemed easier to talk to someone about it through the medium of a computer, having that degree of separation to remove some of the social pressure, but it also seemed to make me a bit too forthcoming.

G_Lander: Not this kind of evidence, but yes.

There was another lengthy pause before Dragon responded again.

Dragon: Would you be willing to speak with the Director of the PRT? She'd like to have a word with you. It would be via video conference.

That brought me up short. My opinion on Director Piggot hadn't changed at all in the past couple of hours and I was still hesitant to speak with her face to face. I had a feeling it was going to be an unpleasant experience, more so after this whole incident. As I considered it, however, I realized that I couldn't really afford to say no, not when she'd specifically asked to speak with me.

G_Lander: Okay. How do I do that?

If it would help me get Sophia punished for what she'd done, I'd have to at least give it a shot.

Dragon: If you were to step into the hallway and take a right, the third door on your right is a conference room. If you go there, I'll make sure everything is set up.

G_Lander: Okay.

Having subconsciously followed along with her directions, I stepped into the room Dragon had pointed out right as the wall mounted television turned on with a chime. The screen was still blank, however, so I busied myself by looking for Director Piggot. I found her in her office at the PRT building Downtown, slipping an ear bud into her ear while Dragon advised her from another video screen. The Tinker's face seemed digitized, human but masked by some sort of filter.

"-avoid a combative tone." I caught the end of Dragon's sentence. "She seems distrustful, maybe more so of authority figures, and based on her interactions with Armsmaster, her personality seems to fall on the timid side of things." Director Piggot snorted.

"Is that your opinion or Watchdog's?" She asked in an abrupt tone.

"Both. She seems to be bold in some ways, skittish in others. I'm worried that if you push too hard she may disappear on us."

"Disappear or not, she'll likely stay close by to make sure she gets what she wants. Stranger powers make people bold. Just because we can't see her, doesn't mean she's not there." She paused to tap her ear bud. "Am I connected?" There was another silent pause before she nodded in response to something I couldn't hear. "Good. Let's try to salvage some good news from this. Dragon, is she there?"

"I don't see her, but that doesn't mean she isn't. Give me a moment to confirm." Without a second of pause, Dragon's voice emanated from one of the speakers in the conference room. "Excuse me, are you here?"

Willing myself into reality, I replied.

"Uh, yes I am. Sorry."

"It's not a problem. I'm going to connect you to the Director now, okay?"

With no small amount of trepidation, I gave the affirmative.

With a click, the television's picture resolved into a feed from the Director's office. The camera was focused squarely on her desk, obscuring most of the rest of the room. On the Director's side of things, the image on her screen allowed her to see the majority of the conference room, ideal for meetings with a greater number of people present. The angle of the image revealed that the camera was set above my screen and I found myself subconsciously looking towards it, giving the impression that I was looking at Director Piggot straight on, rather than off to the side.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stranger," the Director began in a flat and measured tone. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I suspect the headache I've gotten from today's events will be aggravating me for quite some time." I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just kept silent. From my vantage in the Director's office I could hear Dragon sigh, but the sound didn't carry over through the conference call.

After an uncomfortably long pause, the Director spoke again.

"I'll be blunt with you Miss, because I'm not interested in coddling felony trespassers. The list of criminal charges I could have you arraigned for is extensive, and I'm sure that list will continue to grow as the full breadth of your power misuse continues to come to light. With that in mind, here's how this-" I vanished from the conference room.

Yup, Director Piggot was definitely hard to deal with.

Returning to my appropriated computer, I found that I'd been logged out since starting my brief meeting with the Director. Reentering the username and password from before, I kept half my attention focused on the developing argument in the Director's office.

"There needs to be a level of accountability." The Director insisted, her aggravation evident in the clipped syllables of her speech. "A parahuman ability doesn't exempt you from the consequences of your actions."

'Tell that to Sophia and your useless probation caseworkers,' I thought to myself, slamming my finger into the enter key to login a bit more forcefully than necessary. It was Dragon who spoke next.

"I don't disagree with you Director, but there's no one-size-fits-all solution to this. Consequences need to be enforceable to have any meaning to them. Whether she's using a projection or a Mover power in conjunction with her Stranger ability, it's obvious that at the moment any threats we might make ring hollow. What we need is to earn a degree of trust with her so we can convince her to cooperate with us. And you were right, she hasn't left yet. Give me a moment to try speaking with her again. If given a fair chance, I'm almost certain that she'd be willing to work with us."

As my login attempt was processing, the loading screen froze and a black terminal popped up onto the screen. A moment later, a message from Dragon appeared.

Dragon: Hello again. I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to continue using that account to login to the Protectorate systems. However, as a compromise, if I created a temporary username and password, would you be willing to use those instead? I'd prefer to save our other office workers the hassle of a password reset.

I suppose if I were to make any progress on the mutual cooperation front, I'd at least need to make an effort in reducing the amount of trouble I caused. If they tried to ignore my reports about Sophia, I could always try pushing back a bit more.

No, I wanted to be a hero. There were surely better ways to go about it than that. I'd cooperate because it was the right thing to do, not because it benefitted me.

Probably.

C:\ Okay, that's fine. I'm sorry for causing trouble.

Dragon: The account will have limited permissions. You won't be able to access all of the PRT's internal files anymore, but you can use the internet and view any public documents on the system.

There went my research materials. Oh well. If it came down to it, and there was something I absolutely needed to look up, I could always use someone else's account again.

Though I wouldn't, because that would only cause more trouble.

If they caught me.

Dragon: I've set your account up.

username: StrangerTemp
password: stranger

Let me know once you've memorized your information and I'll bring you back to the login.

C:\ I'm all set.

The computer seemed to reboot and after a moment I was back at the login screen. Entering in my newly assigned credentials, I waited for the system to process them and soon found myself staring at a newly set up desktop environment.

Before I could even click on anything, another chat box popped up in the bottom left of the screen.

Dragon: I know Director Piggot can come off as a bit abrasive at times, but I promise that she has Brockton Bay's best interests at heart. If you're willing to cooperate with her, it will make everything proceed much more smoothly: both your concerns and hers.

Dragon: If you'd like, I could mediate between the two of you, here in the chat if a verbal conversation seems overwhelming.

I put my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes as I thought about Dragon's offer.

I did really need to try to work with them without running away. If it helped me make some progress on my own concerns, all the better.

With a resigned sigh, I replied.

StrangerTemp: Okay, I'll try that.
StrangerTemp: Thank you.

Dragon: You're welcome.

Back in the Director's office, Dragon spoke up again.

"She's said that she's willing to open another dialogue with us, only through the internal system chat this time. I've set up a temporary account with restricted permissions for her to use, and she's agreed to use that instead of taking one of the staff's credentials again. I will, of course, continue watching for other suspicious activity on the system."

"How charitable of you." The Director snapped, pulling out the drawer holding her keyboard and waking her computer. "Connect me to her."

As a window similar to the one I'd been using to communicate with Dragon popped up on the Director's computer, she spent a few minutes typing out a message and hit the enter key. An alert popped up on my screen attached to my own chat box and I clicked on it, switching to the Director's conversation.

DirE_Piggot: As you seem intent on avoiding proper discourse relating to the culpability of your actions, I will outline, all at once, the steps you must observe for us to progress this matter in an agreeable fashion.

1. You will submit a written Admission, outlining the restricted areas and information you have made yourself privy to while illegally using your power to trespass on Protectorate and/or PRT grounds.

2. You will sign a non-disclosure agreement covering any and all information you have become aware of, including but not limited to: sensitive operating protocols, the civilian identities of Protectorate and Ward members (the dissemination of such information is a crime carrying a sentence of up to 25 years in a federal penitentiary per count,) the layout of any Protectorate/PRT facilities, and any of the work and/or projects observed therein.

3. Subject to the accuracy of your presumed age, you will enlist as a probationary member of the Wards program and undergo extensive power evaluation, such that the full breadth of your abilities can be understood by the powers that govern you.

4. You will accept the enforcement of subsequent rules, regulations, and consequences as they become necessary as dictated by your actions from this point forwards.

Are these terms clear to you as they are presented?

Pursing my lips, I switched the chat window back over to my conversation with Dragon.

StrangerTemp: Dragon, would you please tell the Director that I'll be willing to consider some of her terms once she has taken steps in addressing my concerns with Shadow Stalker. Thank you.

There was a pause before Dragon hesitantly relayed my message to the Director.

After a long beat of silence, Director Piggot spoke as though she were measuring every word.

"Dragon, would you please excuse me. I need to make a phone call."

"Ah, of course Director."

As the screen that Dragon's image had been occupying went blank, Director Piggot took a measured breath before ripping her phone from its cradle and hammering in a number.

I decided that now was a good time to leave her be.

Opening up the browser on my computer, I typed in a search of public Parahuman databases and started looking through the lists of names. After a moment of thought, I pulled back up my conversation with Dragon and sent her a message.

StrangerTemp: Any ideas for a possible cape name?

Chapter 3: 1.3

Chapter Text

1.3

StrangerTemp: Well, calling it teleportation is the easiest way to describe it to other people. That might not be right though, sorry.

Dragon: That's alright. I know that powers can be strange at times. Have you visited any interesting places? I think if I could teleport, I might be a bit more willing to go sightseeing in person. Just a bit though.

I felt myself smile.

Talking to Dragon was nice. She was friendly and much more down-to-earth than I might have expected. Greatest Tinker in the world or not, she was still a normal person with fears and issues of her own to deal with.

For one, she was agoraphobic, and apparently hadn't left her home in years. I wasn't sure how she could manage that without feeling stifled. I for one, would take any chance I could get to stay out of the house. She'd told me that she hoped to one day overcome that fear, but that for now she'd found some ways to live around it and find fulfillment where she could. If the stories of her heroics on the news could be trusted, I'd say that she was doing a fairly good job at it.

 It was because she was a hero, and seemed to be a genuinely good person besides, that I was willing to forgive and humor a few gentle probes about myself and my power. After all, the heroes knew nothing about me and it seemed like I was causing an awful lot of trouble for them. Maybe more than that though, I'd only just realized how absolutely starved for conversation I'd been.

Before the fallout of my friendship with Emma, we'd talked with each other almost every day, sometimes for hours at a time. It didn't have to be about anything important, just sharing stories and mindless chatter had always been enough for us. When she abandoned me, joined up with Sophia and started making my life hell, I'd lost all of my social contacts. I had no other close friends, and anyone else I might have spoken to were Emma's friends first. I wound up ostracized, cut off from anyone I might have enjoyed spending time with by the stigma of the bullying and my own social withdrawal.

But now, I was turning things around.

Once Sophia was dealt with: punished, sent off to jail, or whatever else they did with crazy, violent capes, I'd be free to start rebuilding my life. I could make friends without worrying about what they might be saying or plotting behind my back. I could actually pay attention in class and turn in homework without worrying about my projects being sabotaged. When I wanted to be alone, nobody in the world would be able to find and harass me.

After what felt like an eternity of being trapped in my own circumstances, I finally had options, and I intended to make the most of them.

StrangerTemp: Well, the Rig is pretty interesting, but I haven't really done any other sightseeing. I guess I've just had other things on my mind.

Dragon: That's fair, the period after acquiring powers can often be rather disorienting. If you end up planning any trips, however, I'd recommend that you stay in North America.  It can be quite dangerous for parahumans in other regions of the world and the Protectorate can afford you some protection. Plus, I've heard that applying for passports can be a nightmare.

StrangerTemp: Are there any places that you'd recommend?

Dragon: Well, Canada can be a bit chilly, but it has some great tourist locations. I suppose it would depend if you were looking for a city experience or something a bit more outdoorsy. Our national parks are some of the most pristine in the world.

StrangerTemp: Okay, I'll keep it in mind.

As the conversation seemed to settle into a bit of a lull, I decided to take a break from my appropriated computer to stretch my legs. Metaphorically, mostly. I'd still keep an eye on the screen anyway, just in case Dragon thought up another topic for us.

Looking around, my attention was drawn to a small commotion elsewhere on the Rig. There'd been a collision outside of an elevator as a young man carrying a stack of files tried to rush on as soon as the doors opened. He'd crashed into the waiting Miss Militia, who seemed to be in a hurry of her own. As his haphazard tower of folders began to topple over, she clapped her hands around it and all but shoved the stack back into his arms.

"Ah, sorry. I-" he began to apologize as the heroine quickly shimmied around him.

"It's alright, I'm at fault as well. If you'll excuse me," Slipping past him, Miss Militia broke into a jog as she hurried off to wherever she was going. I decided to follow her, but not before enacting a bit of karma on the carelessly rude man.

As he wrestled with the now entropic stack of files, trying to restore some semblance of order so that he could select his floor without dropping anything, I preempted him, running my hands down the panel of buttons to press all of them at once. Maybe it was a bit petty, but he should have known better than to try to rush on without waiting to let other people off first. That was just rude.

As he turned and noticed my handiwork with surprise, I decided that the mild inconvenience was punishment fit for the crime and continued on my way. With barely a thought, I caught up to Miss Militia as she reached a security door farther down the hall.

Stepping through it, she entered into a small adjoining hallway, replete with a number of blinking lights that announced the presence of a variety of cameras and sensors. Opposite the entrance was another door with a panel on the wall next to it. When Miss Militia reached it, she held a cell phone up to the panel and was met with an electronic beep. After a moment, the door mechanism made a heavy mechanical clack and she pulled it open to step inside.

The area she entered seemed to be some kind of rec-room, complete with a small kitchen, a table surrounded by a number of chairs, and a lounge area with a number of sofas and recliners pointed at a wall with a bank of six different televisions. They were all turned on but muted, silently displaying a number of different news stations.

Assault and Battery were sitting together at the dining table eating a small meal, their visors off and resting nearby.

"Hey, MM!" Assault greeted with a cheery wave. "I thought you were on patrol today." Miss Militia nodded to the pair in greeting as she walked quickly to the refrigerator, opening it to grab a bottle of water.

"I was, but Dauntless switched with me. The Director didn't want him near a Master/Stranger situation with Armsmaster already stuck in evaluation." Pulling down her scarf, Miss Militia opened the bottle and threw it back, nearly emptying it before pausing for breath. She turned back to the pair and continued. "Speaking of, I'm surprised that both of you are here."

"That makes two of us." Battery replied after swallowing a mouthful of her food. "I think the Director is pretty desperate for us to make a good impression."

"She's hedging her bets." Assault supplied. "We're going to put forward a few faces of the Protectorate, a few different personalities. That way we can shuffle in and out depending on who our young and spooky Stranger likes or dislikes. We've got the matronly Miss Militia, levelheaded in even the most hectic scenarios."

Miss Militia turned to Battery and mouthed the word 'matronly.' The other heroine could only groan and shake her head in response. Heedless of the byplay, Assault continued.

"You've got me, the witty joker, able to diffuse even the thickest of tension with my humor and roguish charm." Battery made a mock gagging sound and Miss Militia gave her a knowing smile. "And finally we've got Battery, my cute straight-man and faithful sideki-" There was a thunk as Battery tried to kick him under the table. He dodged it with a shit-eating grin.

"Who's the sidekick?" Battery demanded in a tone that betrayed the humor behind her incredulousness. "By my memory, you're the one who's always been following me around no matter where I try to go to get away. I wasn't the one who begged to always be on the same team as you."

"Oh, come on. We're a set! A pair! Like Watson and Holmes, or peanut butter and jelly! And besides, my name always comes first in the headlines. It's Assault and Battery. I mean, it's written right there in the penal code!" Once again, Assault dodged as Battery tried to kick him, leaping out of his chair as he cackled like a schoolboy teasing his crush.

"Finish eating, will you?" Battery demanded, gesturing sharply at his food with her fork. "We're supposed to be ready for our emergency meet-and-greet in less than ten minutes."

"I would," Assault began as he slipped back into his chair. "If I weren't being subjected to such violent Battery."

"No complaints," Battery retorted, jabbing her fork in his direction for emphasis. "I'm going to brush my teeth. Don't spill anything on your costume, there won't be any time to change."

As she got to her feet and deposited her tray onto the counter next to the sink, Assault made a point of chomping and slurping his food extra noisily. With a poorly concealed grin, Battery shook her head and retreated through a door on the opposite side of the room.

As Miss Militia finished her water, she grabbed a second bottle from the fridge and moved over to the table, leaning back onto one of the chairs.

"Did the Director say what the Wards will be doing? In most cases I'd think we'd want to have them involved, but there is the Master/Stranger element to worry about. Not to mention that I heard something about a problem with Shadow Stalker?" Her statement trailed off into a question and Assault gave a half grimace as he finished chewing on a mouthful of food.

"You heard right. It seems our errant stranger dropped by to file some personal grievances over little-miss-attitude. If we take her at her word, it's not looking good." Miss Militia frowned, looking to the side in thought.

"What sort of grievances?" she asked. Assault gestured at his phone on the table as he hurried to swallow and respond.

"See for yourself. They've got an active case up on the secure server. The recording from Armsmaster's lab hasn't been cleared yet but Dragon uploaded a transcript of the whole thing."

Miss Militia set her water down and pulled her own phone back out. I peered over her shoulder as she tapped her way through some official looking application. She reached a section labeled Protectorate E-N-E Stranger Infiltration: Designation - Stray and opened it.

"They're calling her Stray?" She asked aloud as she pulled open a folder containing scans of the picture evidence I'd brought on Sophia. Her brow creased in consternation as she swiped through a few of the pictures before tabbing back and opening up a text file.

"Well, the big-wigs are," Assault supplied. "But most of the people around the base have just been calling her The Stranger. More spooky that way." Miss Militia shot him a look and he shrugged helplessly. She shook her head with a quick sigh and went back to reading.

As her eyes tracked back and forth over the screen, I studied her expression, trying to see through to her thoughts on what she was reading. I'd noticed while I was watching on a previous occasion that Miss Militia had a very strong poker face. Sure, she was rather expressive when interacting with people, but I'd gotten the impression that it was almost a conscious decision on her part: a skill more than a trait. When left to herself and her own thoughts, she gave off an inscrutable sort of feeling, hardened and possessed of immense self control. Though, if I looked closely enough, I was able to notice the tightness in her lips and the tense set of her jaw, or the razor like focus in her eyes that seemed to carefully carve the words from the document.

Miss Militia was really cool.

Eventually, I noticed that she was no longer reading from her phone, her eyes unfocused and flicking about in thought rather than study. After a moment, she looked up and turned to meet Assault's eyes.

"We make a good impression," she intoned with a note of finality. Assault grimaced.

"If everything she said was true?" He shrugged, the action feeling a bit doubtful. "I guess we can hope."

"No, we'll do." Battery cut in as she walked back into the room. "This is on us to make work. If you give up before we even start then of course it's not going to go well."

"Hey, no one said I was giving up, Puppy. I've just got a realistic outlook on things." Battery shifted her weight to one leg and planted her hands on her hips, giving him a defensive look.

"And I don't have a realistic outlook?"

"Well," Assault drew the syllable out as he rocked back in his chair. "I'd say you're more the good-intentioned but naively optimistic sort." Battery arched a brow at him as he hopped out of his seat and sauntered over to her. "But," Once again he drew the sound out as he stepped confidently into her personal space. She leaned back, folding her arms across her chest as she looked up to meet his eyes. "That's also one of your greatest strengths. After all," He leaned even closer and practically purred his next words. "It won me over, didn't it?"

Battery turned away from him, a faint blush coloring her face.

"Don't think you can mix disparaging remarks with compliments and come out ahead," she chided, though there was no real heat in her tone. Assault only smirked.

"Oh, I'm sure I can make up the difference in other ways." Battery snorted in surprise and whirled on him with an incredulous look. His self satisfied and almost predatory smile eked out some additional color from her cheeks, but before she could deliver a retort, they were interrupted by a chime echoing from several spots in the room.

Three heads turned to their phones in unison. Miss Milita, phone already in hand, was the first to see the message.

"It's time to setup." She announced, slipping her phone into her pocket. She reached up to pull her scarf back up over her mouth but paused, turning to the pair and giving them a slightly teasing smile. "We don't want to keep our guest waiting so try not to take too long." Battery's mouth dropped open and she turned to gape at the older heroine as Assault laughed out loud.

With a quick tug, Miss Militia had her scarf up over her nose, and hurried to the main door, retreating through it. Battery shot the still chuckling Assault a scandalized look and slapped him on the shoulder.

"You ass!" she hissed, blushing to her ears as she brushed passed him to the table to scoop up her visor and slipped it on with a practiced ease. Without looking back, she called out to him as she rushed over to the door. "You'd better behave for this."

Assault hurried along after her and grabbed his visor as well, the grin never leaving his face.

"Don't worry, she's going to love me! I guarantee it." As he pulled his visor on, Battery breathed out a groan that was practically a whimper. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.

"God, give me strength," she muttered to herself.

"God can't save you now!" Assault replied from right behind her, voice deep and overly-dramatic.

She turned and gave him a half-hearted smack, but a small grin had returned to her face. He smiled back, and after leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss, the pair hurried out through the door.

Chapter 4: 1.4

Chapter Text

1.4

The large conference room near the top of the Rig's main superstructure had to have been one of the swankiest that the Protectorate had to offer. Whether it was the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city, the huge table of dark, polished wood with inset monitors, the plush, orthopedic office chairs, or the huge display screen opposite the windows, every detail of the room gave off a 'best that money can buy' sort of feeling.

Seated in the chair nearest the windows, elbows on the table and my hands folded just below my nose, I imagined myself as some big-wig in the Protectorate hierarchy.

"In light of the illuminating evidence provided by a good Samaritan," the portly man in a fancy tailored suit to my left would say. "Shadow Stalker is to be found guilty of an extensive list of reprehensible charges!" He'd slam his meaty fist down on the table, rattling the glass bottles of Peruvian glacier water, imported specifically for this very meeting.

"Director! There can be no other punishment but death!" A murmur would rise around the room before I held up a hand to silence it.

"Though I agree that a firm hand is required," I'd begin, my voice as smooth and refined as the red wine poured by the meeting's butler. "I wouldn't go so far as to condemn her to death. There are no lessons to be learned in the afterlife, after all."

My proclamation would be met by nods and words of agreement, as my gathered officials praised me for my leniency and compassion in the face of such heinous crimes.

A heavy thunk from the other end of the table startled me from my daydreams as Battery dropped a cardboard box onto the surface. She left it there for Assault to open and made her way back to an open closet nearby. Miss Militia was there, only visible from the waist down as she leaned in to sort through a number of boxes of her own.

Once Assault had torn through the tape and pulled apart the cardboard flaps, he peered inside and glanced at Battery with a grin.

"Ah yes! The full PRT complement of pamphlets and flyers," he observed, mischief obvious in his tone. "No teenager can resist the allure of their compelling statistics and carefully worded paragraphs."

"Less quipping, more searching." Battery called back as she hefted a box of her own up onto a rolling cart and tore it open.

Assault reached into the box and pulled out a tri-fold made from thick cardstock. Flipping it open, he plopped himself down into one of the office chairs and kicked his feet up onto the conference table, giving the brightly colored booklet a once-over. After a moment, his grin redoubled and he called out in a patronizing tone.

"Did you know that most independent capes receive a serious injury within their first three months of activity?" Pausing her own inspection, Battery glanced over at him. "The Protectorate offers a variety of medical resources to help keep its members fit and healthy. Whether it be one of their very own Parahuman healers or one of the PRT's on-call staff of world renowned medical professionals, the Protectorate is here to make sure you-"

"Would you quit fooling around and help us already?" Battery interrupted, shaking her head and returning her attention to the contents of her box. Assault let the pamphlet drop onto the table and pushed off to spin languidly in his chair.

"Au contraire, Puppy. My help comes later on in this grand fiasco."

"Mm-hmm." Battery hummed dismissively, pulling out a pamphlet and turning to hold it up for Miss Militia to see. "Watchdog?" she asked aloud to get the other heroine's attention. Miss Militia paused her own search, backing out of the closet with a few items in hand and straightening to quickly stretch her back. She gave the pamphlet in Battery's hand one glance before she shook her head.

"No, I remember that one," she said, sparing the lazing Assault a dismissive look of her own before she returned her attention to Battery. "It's more of a warning than a sales pitch. Not the sort of tone we're aiming for."

"Right," Battery sighed, dropping the pamphlet back inside and quickly hefting the box down onto the floor so she could put another in its place. Miss Militia strode over to drop what she'd found onto the table as Assault called out again, forcing his way back into the conversation.

"You see, while you two are focusing on your propaganda pamphlets and boring power points, old Assault here's cooking up some brilliant plans to win over our Stranger friend."

Miss Militia responded with a theatrical sigh.

"I'd better start thinking about how I'm going to manage damage control, then," she groused in a put-upon tone. Battery gave an amused snort as Assault squawked in feigned indignation.

"O ye, of little faith," he retorted, folding his arms across his chest as he pushed his foot off the edge of the table again to maintain the momentum of his spin. "I guarantee that you'll be singing my praises before the day is done!"

"Or gathering your remains once the Director's finished roasting you alive." Battery droned back.

A chime forestalled any further comebacks as the large screen at the front of the room clicked itself on. Assault paused his spinning as Dragon's digital avatar resolved itself on the display and before she could deliver a greeting, he called out to her.

"Dragon! Tell these ladies to have a little more faith in me, would you?"

"Well," she began, a pensive expression on her face. "I suppose there is a first time for everyone."

Battery and Miss Militia snorted out surprised laughs and even I clapped a hand over my mouth in shocked humor. It was like when the teacher gave a retort to the class clown that was actually really funny; you weren't sure whether or not you were supposed to laugh.

Assault slapped a hand onto his chest and made a show of recoiling like he was wounded.

"Et tu, Dragon?" He wheezed out as though in great pain. Dragon's response was deadpan.

"Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid."

"Ah, you women always stick together," Assault complained, grinning as Battery tried to fix him with a chastising glare. The effect was diminished by how tightly her lips were pressed together and the twitching corners of her mouth; her internal war against smiling was hard-fought, it seemed.

"It's good to see you, Dragon," Miss Militia greeted, steering things back towards more professional waters. "Thank you for taking the time to help us with this."

"I'm glad to help," Dragon replied, her full faced smile easily discernible on her obfuscated avatar. It was amazing how she could be so expressive through whatever filter or program she used to conceal her identity. "Honestly, it's me who's thankful that the PRT has come to trust me enough to help with these internal situations. It was a nightmare trying to coordinate protocols before I'd earned all of the proper clearances."

"Any new movements from Stray?" Battery asked as she began to move the dispersed boxes back into the closet.

"It's hard to say," Dragon replied, turning away like she was looking at another computer screen. "The last recorded input at the terminal she was using occurred eight minutes ago, so it's possible that she's wandered off again."

"What, can't keep track of a silent, invisible, teleporting Stranger?" Assault questioned with a teasing grin. "Is the queen of information control finally losing her touch?"

"Assault!" Battery hissed as her suppressed smile twisted into a withering glare.

Dragon took the banter in stride. "Oh, don't worry; I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Though in this case, I think the direct approach is best. I'll send her another message and see if she replies, but first I dropped in to deliver an update.

"Director Piggot has just finished briefing the Wards on the situation. Aegis, Gallant, and Clockblocker were chosen to participate in the meeting and are on their way up now."

"Clockblocker?!" Battery and Assault both exclaimed, in disbelief and excitement respectively.

"I didn't think they'd be included for this," Miss Militia wondered aloud, brows creased in thought. "How much did the Director tell them?"

"Only the basic outline: that there was a rogue but not overtly hostile Stranger in the base, probably around their ages. They're aware that their priority is to leave a positive impression but they don't know any of the specific details."

"Leaving them in the dark seems like it could backfire on us big time." Assault pointed out, carefree tone replaced by a note of caution. "We can guess at what a few of Stray's hot-button topics might be, and they're all things that the Wards are pretty likely to unintentionally poke at in conversation."

"True," Miss Militia agreed, fingers drumming rhythmically on the holster at her hip. "A lot of the information is still under the Master/Stranger gag order, but we should be able to decide on a few ground rules to help avoid controversial topics. Speaking of, what's the latest on the Shadow Stalker review?"

I unconsciously perked up as Shadow Stalker was mentioned.

"The preliminary evaluation of what's been found seems to corroborate Stray's testimony." Dragon announced with quiet resignation. I definitely didn't fist-pump. "Of course, nothing has been conclusively proven yet, considering the guidelines of evidence review under Master/Stranger protocols, but the tone of recent communications has been less about whether or not the story is true and more about what's going to be done."

Shaking her head, Dragon blew out a heavy sigh, the sound almost musical through the electronic distortion that masked her voice. "There seems to be fairly heavy pressure coming from on-high to get Stray on board, and they're prepared to allow quite a few concessions. Director Piggot tried to speak with her earlier, but-" Dragon paused as Assault laughed out loud. When everyone turned to him, he simply waved for Dragon to continue, a shit-eating-grin plastered on his face. "Well, given that the Director's attempt failed, I suspect that you'll be given a good deal of leeway to do what you think is best."

As Assault rubbed his hands together with a mischievous giggle, Dragon tacked on a clarifier.

"Within reason."

"Don't sweat the details," Assault insisted as he reclined leisurely in his chair. "It's like they always say: it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."

"Oh dear," Dragon sighed.

Storming over to him, Battery clapped a hand down on Assault's shoulder, a strained smile on her face.

"Don't worry, Dragon," she began, voice thick with the sort of sickly-sweet charm of an indirect threat. "While you try to touch base with Stray, we'll sort out our game plan to make sure we're all on the same page, right?" Bringing up a hand to conceal his grin, Assault turned away from them and surprisingly kept his mouth shut.

With a knowing smile, Dragon replied, "I'll leave you to it."

As the large screen went blank, Battery whirled on Assault with surprising intensity

"You're unbelievable! You can't just talk to everyone like you're close friends!" As Battery all but exploded, Miss Militia made herself busy by sorting their gathered supplies and pretending to be oblivious to the verbal lashing. "Do you even think about who you're talking to or the situation you're in when you speak? Because it seems like you just spit out the first thing that pops into your head, no matter how inappropriate it might be!"

"Puppy, relax!" Assault cut in to the tirade, holding up his hands in surrender. "I know how to read my audience, alright? Dragon's not going to be insulted by a bit of friendly back and forth. If you weren't so distracted by all the twinkles and sparkles you would've seen that it was fine. She gave as good as she got."

"I- I what?" Battery stammered, taken aback. Assault's amused grin turned absolutely predatory.

I was half aware of a new message from Dragon appearing on the computer I'd been using, but I was so engrossed by the confrontation that I just barely glanced at it and sent a quick reply.

"I'd think you'd have been over that sort of hero worship by now after serving under Legend for so long, but I guess that's just another one of your adorable puppy-isms."

What was visible of Battery's face had turned absolutely scarlet.

"What hero worship?!" she nearly shrieked, clenching her fists as she gestured sharply at the screen. "How many Endrbringer fights do you think I-"

"Aw Puppy, there's no need to be so embarrassed!" Assault cooed in the sort of voice that was meant to infuriate rather than calm. "I'm sure that Dragon-"

Whatever he'd been about to say, Battery didn't give him a chance to finish. She lunged forward, seemingly intent to throttle her partner where he sat. Assault dodged with practiced reflexes, leaping from his chair and taking off around the large conference table, cackling all the while. Battery pursued with a vengeance, throwing away her dignity in favor of violent retribution.

However, as she chased him around, burning with a fury stoked by embarrassment, I couldn't help but notice that she never used her power. She'd probably catch him immediately if she did, but instead she seemed content to run after him normally, pursuing with intent but never crossing that final line.

She must really love him.

The spectacle was interrupted when someone knocked at the door to the room.

In response, Battery skidded to a stop, immediately moving to smooth out her costume and straighten her hair. The motion looked so ingrained that it must have been a reflex born from years of repetition.  In contrast, Assault threw himself into one of the chairs at the table and dropped his head onto his arms, visibly shaking with silent laughter.

Ever the bastion of calm rationality, Miss Militia simply pretended that nothing had happened and moved to open the door.

She was greeted by a fully geared PRT trooper, waiting in the hallway with a rolling, stainless steel cafeteria cart. It was piled up with various lunch and snack items, ranging from pizza boxes and sandwich platters, to bags of chips and soda. There were even two big metal thermoses labeled coffee and hot water, with an assortment of tea bags in a basket nearby.

"Catering's here," the man announced without preamble. Miss Militia thanked him and accepted the cart, pulling it into the conference room. His delivery completed, the trooper gave an informal salute and wandered off back down the hall.

As Miss Militia pulled the cart over to the conference table, Battery helped her unload the various food items and tableware, and spread them out in a more organized presentation.

Picking his head up from the table, Assault gave a few theatrically overstated sniffs and declared, "I smell pizza!"

"And you're going to wait until everyone gets here to eat any." Battery replied, forestalling any scavenging. "Besides, you just ate. You can't be that hungry."

"There's always room in my stomach for pizza." Assault insisted, pushing out from the table and rolling along backwards in his chair to get closer to the food. Battery reached out and caught the chair, halting his advance with a steady hand.

"I smell pizza!" another enthusiastic voice called out. A moment later, the costumed figures of Clockblocker, Aegis, and Gallant stepped into the conference room.

"Didn't you just eat, Clock?" Aegis retorted in a skeptical but amused tone. As his featureless white helmet turned to survey the food laid out on the table, Clockblocker gestured animatedly at the pizza boxes.

"Look! They ordered in! None of that rubbery cafeteria stuff. There's no way I'm not going to have a slice or ten."

"Déjà vu," Miss Militia muttered in amusement as the trio of younger heroes lined up in front of her.

"Ma'am," Aegis and Gallant greeted her with respectful nods. Clockblocker simply delivered a corny salute.

"Good afternoon," Miss Militia replied, her tone amicable. She gestured to the conference table. "Feel free to follow Assault's example and make yourselves comfortable. The goal today is to leave our guest with a good impression in a relaxed atmosphere. Your jobs are to simply be yourselves and engage with her."

"Just try not to stick your feet in your mouths," Assault cut in. "Otherwise, you'll end up being haunted by an upset, teleporting Stranger."

If there was someone in the room that I was considering haunting, it wasn't one of the Wards.

"What Assault meant to say," Battery quickly took over. "Is that we're aware of a few topics that we'd probably do well to broach carefully, if at all."

As the three younger heroes settled into chairs of their own, they pushed away from the table to form a half circle with the protectorate members, letting everyone see each other clearly.

"Pardon me for saying, but that sounds a bit ominous." Aegis observed, glancing briefly at Clockblocker for support.

"I don't think you need to be too concerned," Miss Militia said. "Throughout Stray's interactions with us so far, she's been fairly cordial, if a bit nervous."

"Except with the Director!" Assault once again added his two cents.

"Well, that's a given," Clockblocker accepted with a nod. Aegis turned to fix him with a look. "Don't even pretend to be surprised by that. Piggy is way better suited to be in an interrogation room than in a sales meeting. Unless you're talking hard sales." Clockblocker punctuated his statement by shaking his fist with mock aggression.

"More to the point," Miss Militia interjected as she tried to get the discussion back on track. "She's expressed an interest in being a hero. So while we'd like to give her a favorable impression of joining the Wards program, I think it's more important for us to avoid pushing her away." There were a round of nods and murmured agreements before Miss Militia turned to Gallant.

"Gallant, you've seemed like you're distracted. Is something bothering you?" Gallant's helmet perked up and he gave a quick shake of his head.

"No ma'am, I apologize. It's just that everyone around the base has been understandably on edge. I'd like to reserve my own judgment until I'm able to meet Stray for myself."

"An admirable stance," Miss Militia assented, her smile obvious despite her scarf. "Then, let's go over some points that the Director might not have shared. Based on information we've both received and managed to infer, it's likely that school will be a sensitive topic for her."

I felt myself go tense. Had I mentioned anything about my problems being related to school? I could have sworn that I'd been careful to avoid being so specific. Was it just an easy inference to make, or had the PRT managed to do more information gathering than I'd thought?

"You can probably commiserate over how much it sucks," Assault supplied.

"Or emphasize some of the good points about Arcadia." Battery stepped in. "It's just probably not a good idea to ask her about her own experiences."

"Bullying?" Aegis asked with a grimace.

"It's likely," Miss Militia replied evasively. "I'll emphasize that we should try to build a camaraderie with her. She may not have many places where she feels like she belongs, so I think that being friendly and genuine with her will go much farther than the specific content of what we're saying."

It surprised me how much it stung to hear that, to hear them talk about me and realize how closely what they were saying was hitting the mark. These people barely knew anything about me, and yet they could somehow strike at the heart of my own issues. Worst of all, was the realization that when Miss Militia mentioned me not belonging, my first thought wasn't of school but my own home.

I may have been fundamentally intangible, but I definitely felt that punch.

"Okay!" Assault broke in, throwing his hands up into the air palms out. "Sorry, but with all this talk of camaraderie, this needs to be said. If you talk about the Wards, don't even mention Shadow Stalker. Don't say her name. Don't even acknowledge her existence." As everyone turned to him in surprise, Assault continued.

"This is still completely classified so you didn't hear me say it, but the whole reason Stray came around here in the first place was to deliver a laundry list of complaints about her. They seem to have a pretty bad beef, so whatever you may think about little-miss-attitude yourselves, you're better off not saying anything at all.

"Can't tell you why just yet, not unless Stray talks about it herself, anyway, but don't worry because you're probably going to find out soon. Any questions?"

"Um, quite a few, actually." Clockblocker supplied.

"Weird, because I don't remember saying anything." Assault singsonged as he pantomimed zipping his lips shut.

As the Wards exchanged uncertain glances, there was another chime from the screen at the front of the room. After a moment, Dragon's avatar reappeared.

"Ah, I'm sorry," she began sheepishly, as she seemed to give the group a once over. "Did I interrupt?"

"No, I think we hit on the major points," Miss Militia sighed. "From here, we'll just have to do our best. Were you able to get in contact with her, Dragon?"

Dragon's avatar nodded. "Are you ready for me to send her up?"

"Yeah, let's get started before the pizza gets cold!" Assault exclaimed.

"Why do I even bother?" Battery muttered to herself, palming her forehead in resignation.

"Should we send down an escort?" Miss Militia asked as the Wards organized themselves back around the table. They angled themselves so that they could see the door without directly facing it.

"I think that given the observed usage of her power, it might be better for me to tell her about the meeting and let her arrive at her own pace. Just be ready for her to pop up at any time after I give the okay."

"Wait, like, literally?" Clockblocker asked.

"Yes," Dragon confirmed. "At the moment, she's been marked as both a Mover and a Stranger. It wouldn't be out of character for her to arrive unseen and then take a moment to observe everyone before feeling confident enough to show herself."

I suddenly felt like the room was getting uncomfortably warm.

"Spooky!" Assault crooned, turning to Battery for a reaction. She gave him a half hearted smack.

"Right, what should we be doing, then?" Aegis asked.

"Why don't we grab drinks and talk among ourselves," Miss Militia supplied. "Just be mindful of what you say from this point on."

As Miss Militia turned and nodded to Dragon, the Wards shared another uncertain look between themselves before somewhat stiffly getting up and separating a pack of styrofoam cups.

Another message from Dragon appeared on my computer.

Dragon: Would you still be interested in meeting with a few of the Protectorate and Wards members? They've heard a bit about you now and would like to say hello.

I turned away from the gathering to give Dragon a reply.

StrangerTemp: Yes, that would be fine. Where should I be going?

As Dragon sent back directions to the conference room, she announced my imminent arrival.

"Okay, she's agreed to meet and I've told her where to go. The rest is up to you."

Despite preparation, a tense atmosphere seemed to settle over the room. It didn't last for long though, as Assault loudly clapped his hands together and leapt to his feet.

"Alright, who's ready to do this?! Clockblocker!" Despite his momentary surprise, Clockblocker responded with admirable composure.

"Sure," he shrugged, head tilted in mild confusion as he watched the older hero practically bounce over to him.

"That's what I like to hear. Up high!" As Assault held a hand out above his head, Clockblocker seemed to come to some realization. He sprang to his feet and responded to Assault's implied request with an exuberant high-five.

Battery, too, seemed to come to a realization. Her head snapped around and she called out in a warning tone. "No."

Heedless of her warning, Clockblocker held out a hand below his waist. "Down low!"

As Assault wound up, swinging his arm in an exaggerated arc for a simple 'low-five,' Battery's warning took on a note of desperation.

"Assault, no!" she practically pleaded.

Before their hands made contact, Clockblocker pulled his away, causing Assault to miss and stumble with exaggerated clumsiness.

"Too slow!" The younger hero announced.

Assault dropped low into an awkward squat and opened his mouth wide, clapping his hands together onto either side of his face in a comical 'Oh no!' expression. Finally, to round off the gag, Clockblocker slapped Assault on the back and the older hero stopped moving, completely frozen in time.

There was a beat of silence, broken a moment later by Battery's despondent wail.

"No!" she grieved, hands going to either side of her head in a moment of unintentional symmetry with her frozen partner.

"Clock," Aegis breathed out in disbelief.

"Dragon!" Miss Militia called out, turning to the screen for help.

"I'll see if I can delay her," was the immediate reply.

Suddenly realizing what he'd just done, Clockblocker held up his hands defensively.

"Whoa, wait a second! This- you can't just blame me for this. Assault was totally asking for it! I mean literally asking for it!"

"You're not supposed to go along with him!" Battery exclaimed, voice high and tight with panic.

"Clockblocker," Miss Militia intoned, voice steely with implied threat. "How long?"

"I- I don't know!" he stammered in panic. "It don't think it'll be a long one, but I can't say for sure. Maybe- maybe five minutes. Tops!"

"You've really done it this time, Clock," Aegis sighed.

"Look," Clockblocker tried, visibly floundering. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing! Why don't we take a sheet or something, and throw it over him. It'll be like-"

"A sheet?" Miss Militia demanded in disbelief. Clockblocker took a step back.

"Yeah, I- uh-" Clockblocker was saved from his impending fate when someone choked out a stifled laugh.

Five heads and one digital avatar snapped around to stare directly at me.

Had that been me? Oops.

Clapping two hands over my mouth, my stomach burned as I tried to suppress my frantic chortles.

What was it about trying not to laugh that made everything seem infinitely funnier?

As I sat on the other side of the table, glancing between each of their shocked stares in turn, I desperately tried to think of something to say. Throwing caution to the wind, I pulled my hands away from my face and opened my mouth, only to be preempted by my own rather unladylike guffaw.

In panicked embarrassment, I vanished myself away.

There was a long moment of stunned silence before Clockblocker suddenly perked up.

"Oh, I get it! Because she's like a cat!" he exclaimed.

The group turned to face him in disbelief and after another long pause, Aegis slapped the back of his head.