Hey! So first fanfic I ever wrote, this site is pretty much just the archive. Bear with me, will ya? Just google Dreaming of Foxfire Spacebattles if you want to see where all the discussion was, but this should have the content.

Start of new 1.1

"Taylor, where do you think you're going?"

"Just out for a walk," I said, pausing at the edge of the door.

Dad turned from the television, hand resting on the back of the couch. He pushed his glasses up as a mild frown crossed his face. "Then why do you have your backpack with you?"

Turning, I shifted it to my back instead of trying to shield it with my body. It had been a pretty sad attempt anyways; I've always been really thin, now more than ever before. If someone was feeling generous they might call me svelte, but I hear scarecrow, anorexic, and washboard more often. "No reason."

Dad rose from the couch, brows seeming to furrow even as he smiled, choosing to ignore his suspicion for now. "Getting a little stir crazy?"

"Just a bit," I said, attempting a smile, though I'm sure it turned out right. A stranger to my face in the past year and a half, it felt more like a grimace than anything else. And while dad's didn't drop, his brow furrowed more.

"Then wait a second, it won't take me long to get ready," he said, reaching for his shoes.

"I was hoping to go alone," I said, trying to ignore the flicker of pain that crossed dad's face. His expression smoothed, gaze firming.

"Taylor, you know it's dangerous out there right now even in the middle of a day, especially for a fifteen year old girl. Gang activity is on the rise-"

"Dad," I interrupted, "This is Brockton Bay. Gang activity is always on the rise."

"-you're too vulnerable, still recovering, and that f- person who targeted you still hasn't been found," he finished, cheeks reddening before he sighed, closing his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. When they opened his smile had dropped. He looked worried, but I could recognize the slow simmer of anger just behind his eyes. My forced smile dropped but I pushed on, making the effort.

"Dad," I said, "They released me from the hospital with a clean bill of health."

"They released you from the hospital on the grounds you could recover," he returned, swiping his hand through the air. "Three days is not enough time."

"I can walk fine."

"But can you protect yourself?"

Reaching into my bag, I took out the pepper spray. "About as well as I could before."

"Taylor-"

"Dad. Please," I said, cutting him off. "I just need a day to myself. Staring at the same walls, being unable to move forward, to do anything is driving me crazy. Give me one day out. A few hours even!"

Dad blinked, head tilting back before his eyes firmed. He didn't respond at first, just studying me. I shifted my bag, straightening my bag, doing my best to seem alert and ready. He sighed, rising from the couch, navigating the clutter that was our entranceway. Putting a hand on my head, he let it sit. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"I don't."

"And your arms aren't swollen, I don't see any signs of infection," he continued, meeting me full in the eyes. "You have your antibiotics with you, right?"

My bag opened, I showed him the bottles. He nodded.

"And you have your pepper spray, your flashlight and I.D.'s in there as well. First aid kit?"

"In the back pocket," I said, shifting to show him. "My water bottle's here too."

He nodded, making a show of looking through every nook and cranny. "I don't see your spending money anywhere."

My heart beat faster, a tiny smile worming its way onto my face. "Spending money?"

"Yes," he said, fishing some bills from his wallet. He handed them over to me, and I took them. Forty Dollars. Wow.

"Are you sure?" I said, eying the stack of unopened letters on the table.

"Positive," he said, nodding firmly. "The settlement may have been useless otherwise, but it did help us save some money, even if we can't really prosecute the school, or the people who did this to you. Even if no one seems to know who that is." He gave me a look.

Shifting uncomfortably, I looked away, pocketing the money. "Yeah. I guess."

We stood like that for a while, neither willing to move. Finally he sighed and leaned in, arms circling my shoulders. Out of practice, unfamiliar, and butterfly light, it felt kind of awkward, but the sentiment remained.

"Just be careful out there," dad murmured. "I love you kiddo, and I'd hate for anything bad to happen. Promise me you'll stay out of trouble."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "I promise," I said, lying through my teeth.

-x-

Paint peeled from the walls in little rollers of grey, their original color long lost to the rains. Like most places on the docks the house was long abandoned, its windows boarded over and wood rotting from age. The door wasn't any different, the handle rusty to the touch, and I'm pretty sure if I turned it it would probably break. With the nearby streets abandoned and the thick coat of dust, there was only one word to describe the place.

Perfect. Wonderful. And a whole host of others.

Well, to me at least. A more critical person might call it a dump, but I'm not really in any position to complain. It's safe, it's secret, it's separated from society. Testing my powers in public would be pretty stupid.

Yes, I have powers. Well, at least I think I do. There's this hazy energy just sitting in the back of my head forming a rough shape, kind of like an orb. It appeared all of the sudden after the incident at my locker which left me bedridden in a hospital for a couple of days. I've heard a lot of people and heroes get their powers like that. The Protectorate, the local heroes, sometimes say it on television. Trauma, danger, or even I shock, but I wonder how many people receive it from their former best friend.

Shaking the thought from the head I pushed open the door, the dry, brittle wood giving way beneath my fingers. The handle fell off and hit the floor with a clank, but that's okay, I didn't need it, the lock was broken anyways.

Bringing my hand to my hoodie I brought it up to my nose, trying to purge the pungent odor of mildew and mold. It's one thing to walk past these houses; it's another entirely to go inside one. The shadows were uneven and from different directions, light filtering in through the holes in the roof, catching floating trails of dust in their early morning glow. The air was thick of the stuff to the point that I wondered how I was breathing, but I was, so I moved, my shoes sometimes touching chunks of wood or broken glass.

Dad would have had a literal fit if he saw this and probably rant for a while about how low the docks fell. He's spent his whole life fighting to clean them -or at least from what I could remember, he tells me he was a troublemaker as a kid- and while he's had some success, or at least kept his Union alive, Brockton's been in decline for a long, long time. Ever since capes appeared some people say, people with powers like there used to be in comics.

The whole 'being real' part kind of killed the comics themselves. They ran out of business not to long after Scion, the first cape, appeared, about...almost thirty years ago, back in 1982.

Anyways, none of that really has anything to do with me besides the whole being a cape part and possible super powers, if they even work. I've have my fingers crossed, so here's to hoping.

Finding a private place in an abandoned house was actually turning out pretty hard to find. The holes in the walls and the ceilings letting light in meant they could also let sight in, and that's something I wasn't too keen on. Capes have a reason they wear costumes after all, and it's not just because they all look good in spandex. Some of them really, really, really don't.

I would know. I'm one of them.

Funny how that was the last thought I hung on to before I found the perfect place to test my powers. The abandoned bathroom of the abandoned house, smelling of mold and rot and the guys lockers when you pass it. But none of that matters because today is the day that I'll discover my powers. Today is the day I become a hero!

Nothing. Blank. Diddly squat. Thirty minutes smelling this putrid stench with nothing to show for it besides an intermittent sneeze.

Something tickled my nose, and I pinched at the top. I'd better not be getting a cold from all this.

No. Have to try again. Maybe I did something wrong, tried the wrong power set. Aren't powers supposed to be instinctive? Well let's see. I've got this orb of energy in the air. I can float it around. It can't affect objects. It can't create beams. It can't create shields or bubbles of force. I can't see what is in it, only feel where it is. Maybe…

My orb of energy moved to the counter where the toilet paper lay, old and rotted, yes, but if this works…Disentagrate!

It sagged on the shelf, a bit of mold falling off. Hard to tell if I made that happen or it just decided to kick the bucket.

I just about gave up. The second worst day of my life turned about to be useless after all. But still, anything's better than the first.

I blinked, rubbing the liquid from my eyes as I carefully removed a creased picture of my mother from the confines of my backpack. It was an old, faded photo, some of the details lost with time. There I was, age seven, sitting on her lap trying to read a book. My mom was there, wavy brown hair and rimmed glasses, smiling indulgently down at me as I methodically butchered the pronunciation of the carefully wrought story. My dad stood in the background, laughing, a small carving in his hands. An monkey with a block of wood attached, uncarved as of yet. His knife touched its tip, about to begin the long process of turning the dead wood into a living figurine.

It used to sit on our fireplace when I was younger. Every night before bed they would pick it up, telling tales of a mischievous monkey and a cunning fox. They would fumble, tumble, and have hilarious misadventures, but in the end they always made the right choice. Mostly on accident. Whenever they used to argue in the quiet of night, their heated whispers reaching my room, prying me from my sleep? I would quietly bring them that carving, holding it up, knocking on their door. It wasn't a magic cure all, it wouldn't solve the problem, but it would help, smooth the ire, and make something softer, warmer out of it.

I ended up getting shooed out of the room after, and as I grew older I began to wonder why I was an only child. It didn't matter though; I had a sister in the form of Emma, until a year and a half ago. I lost my mother much sooner.

The day that happened the little figurine on our fireplace disappeared. Dad didn't comment on it, and I never asked. Afterwards dad was always leery. Of cars, cell phones, and arguments. As bad as the locker was, the hurt was mainly psychological, and only to me, the trust already betrayed. I could recover, I could get better. Her death… a part of me died that day. A part of my Dad as well.

Why then, did I get my powers now? What does this say about me?

I shook my head, replacing the photo in the faded purple fabric of my bag. No use thinking about that now. Instead I focused, preparing to experiment with my power, but stopped. A vague thumping noise, a couple of curses.

I breathed, easing myself down, peeking through a crack in the bathroom door. I blinked at the dust and the glare, the creaking wood of the derelict house clawing at my ears. Two men staggered through the door, boots thudding. My dad's the head of the dockworkers association; I'd been around enough of them to know that whatever was in that blanket bundled package between them, it was heavy. The men carrying the bundle were pretty sketchy themselves. One was a little taller than me, big in the way you expected a football player to be, dressed in a black jacket, jeans and white t-shirt combo. He had no skin showing, from what I could see, gloves on his hand and a ski mask on. He moved quickly, efficiently. His partner was pretty close to the same height, but that's where the similarities end.

While the other man was calm, this guy jerked around like some sort of crack addict, cursing under his breath. His clothes were worn, dirty and ragged on the edges, just jeans and a cut-off shirt. I couldn't see his face through the crack, and I didn't want to move in case they heard me. Sketchy and dangerous looking, not even counting the bundle in their hands. This was exactly what dad wanted me to avoid. Maybe they were just here to drop off some junk in an abandoned house, then leave. Enough people did that, it was possible.

Great job Taylor. Of all the abandoned houses in the docks you had to pick the one with the shady people.

Then they dropped the package and it whimpered.

A breath caught in my throat. Whatever's in there is alive.

The skinny one bent down, muttering getting louder as he unwrapped the bundle. An Asian woman, looking somewhere in her thirties was rolled out, gagged with a rag and rope. Dressed in a business suit, her hands and legs were tied together. She moved slowly, and her eyes were glazed. Drugged.

I let out my breath. Okay Taylor. Don't panic. Panicking doesn't help anything. You want to be a hero, right? Do something. No idea what my powers do, so I did a quick inventory of my bag. Paper, pencils, books. Not for the first time I wished I had a cell phone. I could call the police, text my dad, do something.

Then black jacket turned towards the door, and the thin one did the same, giving me a view of the back of his head, the 88 tattoo on the half with his hair shaved off…and his gun. My panic fit was aborted early when I heard what they were turning for. Sirens. The police are on it.

Thin guy started shaking all over. "Gonna get me, gonna get me, there gonna get me, I'm going to fucking jail...You! This is all your fault!" He stood straight, pointing a shaking finger at Black Jacket. Black Jacket turned to look at him.

"My fault?"

"This is the police! Step out of the building with your hands on your head where I can see them!" I felt relieved. The police were here. Everything would be better now. All I had to do was keep quiet, and the kidnappers would be arrested. I felt disappointed. I'd done nothing, again.

The thin one cursed, grabbing the woman, dragging her through the door, gun held to her head. "None of you move! I've got a hostage and a gun!" Then he slammed it, dropping the woman again, while his partner watched the windows. He started moving all over, piling furniture against the door. "Yes this is your damn fault! Without you, I wouldn't even be here! I'd be back at the club, smoking a joint, not chased by the cops in an abandoned building!"

Jacket just waved his hand, head unmoving. "I didn't force you to come, you wanted to. You wanted the payout as much as I do."

Thin cursed under his breath, then punched the wall. "Fuck. What are we gonna do then, huh? You're the one who wanted us to duck into the house."

"We were tired from carrying her too long, and our drop off split."

"Yeah? Well how the hell was this supposed to help against the thirty-"

Jacket drew a phone from his, well, jacket. "Shut up, Mark."

Mark shut up.

They stood there, Jacket tapping on his phone. Mark fidgeted, alternating between snarling at the door, at Jacket, and the woman he kept a hold on, who looked more aware by the second. Then Jacket spoke. "Backups not coming. They were intercepted by Battery and Assault."

"Fuck."

"They offered us a deal. Mission changed. They don't want her kidnapped anymore, they want her gone. We do the deed and they set us up, double pay with new identities and homes."

Mark went silent, tapping his gun against the wall, playing with the safety. He didn't say no.

My heart rate spiked. I felt an odd mix of dizzy, helpless, and focused, pins and needles all around. They're going to kill her. What can I do? Everything I had with me was useless; my power was the only thing that might work. Out of the few trials I'd done before they came, projecting was all that had done something. I tried to make a forcefield. Nothing. Just doing it wrong. I tried to push them away. Nothing. One more try. I moved the energy out, tried pushing it into them. It danced around, avoiding them. I pushed harder, same result. Still nothing. I growled, moisture running down my cheeks. Damnit, this isn't fair. I have this power and I can't affect anything.

If I run out as I am, try to be a distraction? Best case scenario, they get two hostages. Worst case scenario, they kill one of us and still have a hostage. Blood pounding in my ears and teeth gritting, I stood there, pulling my energy back. Useless, unwilling to make a sound. Helpless. Isolated. Alone.

No.

No. I can't think like that. I need to save her. I need to be better. Stronger. Faster. Less hesitant. I need

Bright light, glowing orb

-to change.

xXxXx-xXxXx

I staggered against the door, bracing myself. A changer power. Not what I expected. I took a step forward, surprised. My center of balance was definitely off but if anything my movements seemed to be smoother, surer. One of the myriad differences about my current form. I blinked, removing my glasses while brushing back a lock of straight, black hair and the world sprung back into focus. Everything seemed brighter, clearer than before. I twitched, reaching atop my head as what felt like triangular ears moved atop it, sensitive enough to hear the chatter of police. Nine new appendages fanned behind me. I thought, they moved, waving around me in complex patterns. I caught a glimpse of white fur, a tapered point. The energy was still separate, useless, but there is a new source. Wild, untamed, standing at the ready, begging to be used.

Pulling down my hood to obscure my face I flicked a tail, blue-white fire appearing, moving where I willed it. I smiled. Excellent. A plan began to form.

Oddly my changed hair inspired the most dread. My former brown curls were one of the few links I had to my pride, my femininity, and my mother. Hopefully this wouldn't be permanent. Easing myself down I crouched, glancing through the chipped hole.

And Mark looked right back.

Well, not quite. He certainly didn't make any eye contact, either it was too dark for him to see or the hole too obscure. His heart beat at the speed of a young rabbit, the quick glances he shot at his partner confirming my thoughts. Far too young to be doing this kind of work. He was either ruthless or destitute. I doubted the former, favoring the latter. His body language screamed desperation, his grip on the gun weak. Though that very tool he wielded constituted him as a threat, terrible form or no. I would have to…relieve him of it at the earliest convenience. Still, if it was only an amateur like him this would have been easy. My gaze drifted to the right and I sighed.

His partner remained resolute, standing straight backed against the wall. One hand remained around the arm of the slowly waking hostage, the other playing with a knife. Flick, retract, store. Flick, retract, store. Every motion quick, efficient. His field of vision encompassed the windows, the front door, and the bathroom. I let out a breath. No, one of my marks has to be competent, dangerous. Why would he leave the choice up to the baby of the group? Something was going on here but it wasn't relevant, a distracting amusement. I dropped the train of thought, focusing onto the aptly named Mark.

He snarled, slowly approaching the door. "Whoever's in there this is your last warning! Come out now or I start shooting!"

Pathetic. He should have just shot, not warned me. Perhaps if he spoke while standing still I would thought he meant it. Then again, it wasn't as if he knew I could see him. As it was he approached, gun aimed several feet above where my actual head was, perhaps where it might have been if I was standing. And a foot taller. I noticed Jacket's eye twitch, barely visible through his baklava, but he said nothing. Seeing as he wouldn't interfere, at least not now, I had more options. I coiled in on myself, ready to spring.

Mark came closer, waving his gun threateningly. When nothing happened he took a quick step forwards, then back, eying the door. I waited. Finally he reached out, one hand on the gun, one on the doorknob-

I shoved, catching Mark unawares, smashing the Empire thug into the nearby wall as I sent a torrent of fire towards Jacket. Mark's gun flew outwards, landing on a pile of broken furniture. I slammed the door again and heard a satisfying crack, watching his visible arm go limp. I worried a bit that I killed him, but pushed it to the side. He'd be fine, and if not, so what? Not important right now, I had a hostage to save. I twirled, leaping towards Jacket-

Pulse

-and surged, sheathing my tails in energy, changing direction midair and flying to the side with a sudden burst of speed, a throwing knife occupying the space where my head had been. I hit the floor and pushed it away, condensing my essence down to a thick stream, directing it at Jacket. He ducked behind the counter as we entered the kitchen but several streaks broke through. Grunting he hit the floor with a thump, echoed by a second, smaller one. There was a small, plaintive cry, what sounded like sobbing. He still held the hostage. I surged again, draining my reserves as I flew up and over the counter, calling fire around myself as I flew over-

Pulse

-and stopped, standing on the counter as my fires swirled round me, casting an eerie blue-white light on my surroundings. Jacket stood straight and strong despite his labored breath, hostage held like a bodyshield. The Asian businesswoman cried through her gag, unintelligible, eyes tearing up, battered and beaten. His left held a knife to her throat, his right a gun to my chest. I stood, studying it a moment before I cocked my head, ears twitching atop it to his every wheeze. "I'm surprised you can stand with all those burns. Some of them look fairly deep and serious."

He chuckled. It would have sounded natural to anyone else, but I could hear the effort it took him, how he breathed harder. A cauterized hole in his side stretched in response, visible through a flapping piece of leather and a revealed green vest. It must have been painful, but he didn't flinch. He flicked his eyes over my shoulder to his fallen partner, then back to me. "I've had worse, though not by much. How the hell did you get fire to punch harder than a bullet?"

I shot him a dazzling smile as my ears twitched, the sound of sirens and yelling getting closer. "Trade secret I'm afraid, don't negotiate with terrorists and all that. Though I admit I'm curious about you myself. The other guy was just a thug. Boring, panicking, easy. You're a harder nut to crack, a man of mystery. Calm, strong, confident. Certainly not acting like your average flunky, yet you deferred to him. You wouldn't happen to be willing to release your hostage, would you? I'm sure we could carry out this conversation elsewhere. Perhaps over a cup of chai tea. I happen to know a place, interested?"

He chuckled, tightening his grip on the hostage, pressing the knife closer to her throat. My heart beat a bit faster at that, but he didn't draw blood. The businesswoman's struggles ceased as she eyed it, keeping perfectly still. I snarled inwardly, but didn't let it show. "Can't say I'm not tempted, but no can do. Prior commitments and all that. But I'll tell you what. Let me get rid of the deadweight here and I'll take you up on that, yeah?"

My smile turned sharper and my tails began to writhe around me as I used part of my shrinking reserves to summon more fire, to keep him guessing till backup came. "A shame then. It would have been fun. "

He grunted in agreement, and I-

Pulse

-ducked ,pulling my energy inwards, burning through. Everything slowed down, dust caught in beams of sun, chipped wood falling like feathers. Slow-motion Jacket shot his gun, the flash illuminating the room for a prolonged instant as his knife gained an edge of red. I ran closer, grasping for his energy, a disciplined spark compared to my roiling flame, and pulled.

His actions stopped, his eyes found mine. His hands, if not letting go, loosened. It gave me a moment to reach him, knock the gun from his hand and remove his knife- then the moment ended, and time sped up.

His eyes regained focus, his gaze sharpened, and he plunged the knife into the woman's shoulder. Blood welled thickly, dripping her life away onto the cloth of her clothes. She screamed, I screamed as I placed my hands on him, sucking away his spark and his energy even as he used his superior strength to try to push me away. He punched, pushed and leveraged as I clung to his knife arm, trying to tug it out, get it away. His efforts grew feebler and feebler and he pulled the hand pushing me away, reaching somewhere for something. I didn't care, grasping at his knife hand, pummeling it where I could with bouts of fire as my energy disappeared and welled, disappeared and welled, pulling from his flickering candle to me. I grabbed it, twisted it, throwing it away. There was a high, metallic noise, a kind of tink-

My head hit the counter, my tails burning in pain. I heard the police breaking through but couldn't bring myself to care. I pulled in the energy, his energy, surrounding myself, sheathing it into my skin. My tails retracted, ears coming in, and I shrunk. But the pain lessened, my vision blurred. The shouting of the police, the crying of the woman.

Then darkness.

x-x

"You wish to give your statement now?" He sounded confused, puzzled.

Taking a deep breath I nodded seriously, staring into the pale green eyes of Officer Villers. He hummed, brushing back a lock of his white hair. I was kind of curious about that. Usually people with that much white were somewhere over seventy, he looked more like a healthy fifty. He shook his head, smile warm, a touch amused. "I'm sorry, but I am afraid I will have to decline. If you want this recorded, used in court, image is important. An aging officer interviewing a young girl in a hospital gown doesn't exactly give the right impression."

I bristled." I have clothes-"

He raised a hand. "Had clothes. They are torn, ripped, and generally unusable. Mere rags. It is a miracle you backpack remains undamaged with all the punishment you seemed to take." He stared at me, cocking his head. "You're certain they didn't do anything…untoward to you? Besides the kidnapping and attempted murder of course. They didn't try to-"

My hands waved, cutting him off. "No, nothing like that. They just found me in that house, they didn't have time for anything. Miss Nakane- I mean Naoko- was the real victim, I was pretty much a bystander."

He nodded, lips twitching. "Yes, fortunate indeed that unknown Parahuman showed up to save you both when she did. It could have been much worse."

I cleared my throat, looking away. He seemed to suspect something, but he wasn't pushing. Taking that as a good sign I tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing. Pretty sure I failed. "Yeah, good thing. Umm, you wouldn't happen to know what they're calling her?"

Officer Villers smiled. "Well, we don't exactly know much about her, what little we have gleaned is from our surprisingly cooperative captive kidnapper. I would have expected a man like him to stay quiet, but he has been a veritable goldmine of information about Empire 88, though he claims master influence. He has been transferred to PRT custody for now." I frowned, snorting in disbelief. He continued. "She has tentatively been classed as Foxfire, a vigilante, independent hero. Mind you she will have to sign with the Parahuman Response Team to make anything official so everything is temporary, including the codename."

Foxfire. Independent hero. I couldn't help but smile at that, attempting to hide it behind my hand. Pretty sure he caught it anyways, but he wasn't prying. I had the feeling he was the really trustworthy type. I'd been suspicious at first, worried he would hound me, question me, put me on the spot, but so far he had been nothing but supportive. That, and I didn't mind the name.

I heard the door open and turned my head. Naoko entered, shutting it quietly. She looked between me and Officer Villers, settling down in one of the myriad chairs surrounding the room. It was the office room of this clinic- her clinic, much to my surprise- so she made herself right at home. Panacea did good work. She seemed much better than before, dressed neatly in a business casual shirt and skirt, seemingly confident, controlled, elegant. Her hand shook when she went to get her coffee, though she tried to hide it. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Officer Villers shook his head, squinting at her worriedly. "No, we were merely going over the details of the case. Are you sure you are feeling alright, Miss Nakane? Most people wouldn't be moving around on their own so soon after such an ordeal, physically or mentally."

She shook her head, glaring at him a bit before subsiding. "Yes, I am. Besides, it would do me little good to sit and stew. I have a clinic to run, after all.

He shook his head. "I'm sure it would survive without you for a day. You should be resting, recuperating."

She frowned, her mug hitting the desk with a clink. "I am sorry sir, but I respectfully decline."

Sighing, he muttered under his breath, far below what most people could hear. "Youngsters these days, so headstrong," but raised his head, showing nothing but patience. "If you insist. I apologize if I might have seemed a bit pushy, a habit of mine thanks to my stubborn daughter, and indeed granddaughter.

Naoko gave a brief smile, sipping on her coffee. "It was no trouble, you meant well."

I tapped my chair, and their attention returned to me. I quailed a bit before clearing my throat, meeting Officer Villers' eyes. "Excuse me, but if now is not a good time to give my statement, what time would?"

He hummed in thought, turning to me. "Usually we take your statement at your earliest convenience, so as soon as you find some clothes."

Naoko butted in, questioning. "What happened to her old ones?"

"Ripped beyond repair, I'm afraid."

She nodded, motioning for me to come. "I shall buy you new ones then."

I balked. "Uhm, no thanks. I mean, it's not necessary, I have my own-"

She waved her hand, pushing away my problems. "Nonsense. After such a shared ordeal, it is only fair I help a fellow victim of this crime, and it wouldn't do to send you home in nothing but a hospital gown. I can lend you some spares in the meantime, running sweats I keep here for occasion. We are similar enough heights, and sweats are loose. They should fit. Then we can work on getting you proper clothes. I shall call my daughter. She can drive you to a clothing shop."

"Uh...wouldn't the sweats be enough for the statement?" I looked hopefully towards Officer Villers, but he just chuckled, amused. He ignored my question, handing me a note.

"That note has the information you will need to give the man at the front desk, as well as the location of the station. Just off 32nd and 15th. Anytime between now and eight o'clock would work fine today, and anytime between ten and eight any other day of the week. Now run along, wouldn't want to make her wait, now would we?"

I stared at him, betrayed, and he just smiled back mischievously, wrinkles giving him a knowing air. I sighed, stood up, and followed Naoko. She walked briskly ahead, bringing me to a room behind her office, rummaging through a closet. She walked out with a pair of white sweats and a loose red top, tossing them both to me. I caught them and entered the bathroom, somewhat disappointed by the lack of mirrors. I eyed my straight black hair curiously before shrugging, changing quickly. I exited the room, smiling nervously. "You're sure this isn't good enough?" the clothes were a way better quality than I was used to, the design probably pretty fashionable. I was already uncomfortable enough. She shook her head, pursing her lips as she looked down at a phone.

"No, not nearly. Come, my daughter is outside."

I started to follow her, biting my lip. "Is this really necessary? I mean, keeping the fact that I'm a parahuman secret and helping me with a cover story is thanks enough. There's no need to go this far."

She shook her head, staring firmly at me. "It is not nearly enough. You saved my life from those bigoted Empire thugs. Keeping your secret and replacing lost clothes is the least I can do." I frowned, looking away. When she next spoke, she sounded amused. "However, I can see you dislike this. So bear with me for now and I will not bother you later." I looked back and nodded, noting her smile. Her hands weren't shaking as much either. She was holding it together well. Very well.

I wasn't. The things I had done during that kidnapping…that wasn't me. That wasn't anything close to me. It had been an unfamiliar body with an unfamiliar thought process. That I hadn't even noticed it at the time only freaked me out more. However, it seemed with a more human form came with a more human thought process. That, and after panicking in a bathroom a bit I found that I could change back to normal. Completely normal, curly hair and all. It took five minutes, but still.

Even then I would wonder, I would worry. I remembered shoving the door into that thug, Mark. Slamming him against the wall till I heard a distinct, unhealthy crack, his arm going limp. Sure, he lived. In fact, he was on the run. No one knew where he was. But I thought he had died. I just couldn't shake the thought that it hadn't been the alien thought process that let me contemplate killing so easily, that it had been me. But if Naoko could be so strong, recover so quickly, then I could at least fake it.

I took a breath, fixing a smile on my face, and stood up tall. Well, as tall as I could. I was certainly smaller now. "Well then, I'm ready. When do we leave?"

x-x

I closed the door of the cherry red sports car, waving goodbye to Naoko. She had a clinic to run after all. I turned, looking a bit awkwardly at her daughter. She looked a lot like Naoko, slim, attractive, Asian, but her eyes were a pale blue, not brown. She hit the gas, powering us into traffic. Once we hit a stoplight she turned towards me, extending her hand. I was surprised to hear her speak, she had a Boston accent. Not what I expected. "So hey, Nakane Seka here, nice to meet you."

I took hers tentatively, taking a breath. "I…no comment on my name right now. Sorry, trying to remain anonymous."

She looked at me, cocking her head. "That right huh? Cool." She hit the gas, facing forwards again. "You know, you're a lot quieter than I thought you would be. Expected the cape who saved mom to be more confident."

My head whiplashed as I took her in. Her grin was cocky, confidant. "Bingo. Wasn't sure I was right for a second there, but your reaction told me enough."

I exhaled. "Naoko told you-"

"Nope, mom didn't tell me anything, figured it out on my own." She tapped her head. "I'm a genius, wasn't too hard. Mom gets kidnapped by the neo Nazis, brought to an empty building. Saved by a cape who seamlessly disappears as the end, conveniently replaced by another 'victim', who, by the by, refuses to give her name, not to the police, her fellow victim, or the hostages daughter. Top it all off she has me take this 'victim' to Parian's to replace her lost outfit. The last ones the real cincher, Mom wouldn't do that for just anyone. She's in a really generous mood, and just being held hostage for ten minutes with her wouldn't do it." She grinned at me smugly. I just stared at her, dumbfounded that we were going to Parians' of all places, and a little furstrated at being found out already.

"So trying to keep a secret was just a wasted effort?"

She waved a hand as she spun the wheel, taking a turn. "Relax, no need to be hostile. I won't tell, and I doubt anyone would figure it out besides me. I'm privy to the police information; my mom sent me the file. It won't reach the public, and it's been routed through PRT channels just for the chance of you being a cape. The public will get a much more believable version with some fancy new bells and whistles. Probably say they saw you fleeing the scene of the crime, say they had two hostages instead of one. Swear everyone to secrecy and all that. Sure some of the info's going to leak, but anyone who figures it out will just be labeled a conspiracy theorist and ignored. PRT's pretty good at PR for an amateur Gestapo."

Okay, now I felt angry. My worries were noticed, appraised, and put down like they were nothing. She barely spared me a glance the entire time, keeping that cocky grin as she spun her way through the streets at an absurd speed. I was surprised she hadn't been pulled over yet, but hadn't seen any police either. She seemed to have a knack of avoiding them. All the same, she meant well. Ish. While her arrogance reminded me of Sophia and Emma, she wasn't being hostile. It seemed more like an attempt to cheer me up. Her way of thanking me. More worrying is what she called the PRT. "Gestapo? Really? They're just a better armed police force meant to deal with Parahuman emergencies."

She grunted as she took a turn. "Exactly. Gestapo. They protect the baseline, the normals, the bores. They only have one job; to hunt down Parahumans. They don't stop normal crime. A bank robbery? A kidnapping? A murder? Pfeh. Leave it to the Police, they'll say. They can deal with it. But soon as there is any Parahuman involvement their on it. They drop everything just to get their hooks in someone. I mean hell, sure they'll help you out, but that's only so they can try to get you in their claws. They only see Parahumans in two ways. You're either with them or against them."

"There's the Protecorate, the rogues-"

"The Protectorates their pet capes. As long as they toe the line, fight the villains, get the PR and die in Endbringer fights they're safe. But how many successful independent Heroes and Rogues do you hear of, eh? Why don't they get the funding? Because they don't want to sign a blood contract, don't want to bow to the baselines. Because the PRT's afraid, rightfully so. Look at Heartbreaker and his spawn. Capes' kids become capes. He's had tons of them. 100% Parahuman. When the golden man first appeared he named himself Scion. The one who comes after. You get it? Scion is a fucking idiot, but he got one thing right. You hear rumors, but people try to clamp it down, keep it quiet. We're the next step, the final piece of human evolution. People don't like that so they made the PRT and their pets. You seem new, so take my advice. If you want any freedom, any say in your life? Stay the hell away from the Protectorate."

I didn't know where to begin. "You're a cape."

"Never claimed not to be."

"Does your mother know?"

She snorted. "Nah, I'm keeping it low key for now. No daring escapades or anything dumb like that."

"If you really are keeping it low key, they won't give you any trouble. Why are you so against them?"

"Because all they are after is authority. Because their jealous little twats, trying to hog the whole glory pie. Because they don't care if anyone's smarter than them. Better than them. Like all authority figures, anyone not in their immediate control that surpasses them in any way? They suppress them. Squish em to bits. Deny all of their inventions, theirs accomplishments, and steal it as their own." Her hands spasmed, grasping the wheel a second before she relaxed, pulling into a parking lot. I loosened my grip on the seat, relaxing as she turned.

"Hey, were here. C'mon, let's hurry up. Should be pretty empty this day of the week, Parians getting ready to close up shop early. Too bad, because at night it looks fucking amazing. She got some ensembles that glow." She stood up, her countenance calm, almost bored. I followed warily, a few steps behind.

She may be Naoko's daughter. She may be a genius like she claimed. She may have even saved lives. I vaguely remembered them talking about this air bomb thing they called the purifier orb she invented. Sterilized the air or something. Her ravings could just be the ravings of an ignorant anarchist complaining about the system. But I had a feeling it wasn't. There was this spark of anger in her eye when she spoke, a hint of danger. Should I report her? Warn the Protectorate?

No.

My dad said worse about his union on several occasions, usually in a fit of spitting rage. In a way the Protectorate was the cape equivalent of a union. Seka's ravings were no worse. Well, excepting the trans humanism evolutionary bias, but she was probably just upset, venting. I could see how she tensed from the corner of my eye, how her hands would grasp, her teeth clench. Her mother had just been kidnapped, nearly killed. She kept herself under tight control, looking almost natural, almost happy, but her words belied her act.

I watched her walking round the shop, picking out clothes, studying them, placing them back. She was focused, relaxed, meticulous. Probably using me as a sort of therapy, much like her mother had earlier. For me it was summer camp and lots of repression. For them it was apparently using me like a dress up doll.

Seka turned around, flashing me a smile as she passed me an incredibly low-cut red top. "Hey, I think you should try this. It would look great on you."

I held it up a little gingerly. It felt like holding a live snake. "How about something grey? And plain? That covers more skin?"

x-x

x-x

Foxfire 1.3

The Officer on desk duty looked up, surprised. "Could you repeat that?"

I took a breath, tugging at my new clothes. I hadn't escaped Parians shop unscathed. After much Seka ended up scraping her first choice, going with a more conservative version with the same color scheme. Red with trimmings of white along the edges, decorations of gold embroidery. Calf high boots with a formfitting shorts and top combo. It covered everything important but left most of my arms and legs bare, making me feel rather self-conscious. Seka had a terrible sense of schadenfreude. It was as if she sensed my discomfort and latched on, venting vicariously through me. She had held up various outfits, all leaving me flustered and blushing before finally settling on this.

Afterwards, when I asked for a spare bra, some sweats and a grey hoodie in my normal size she agreed, not even batting a lash.

On the bright side, I'd finally found a mirror. I wasn't sure how I felt about looking like an airbrushed Asian model, it was like cheating and self-betrayal all at once, but I could deal with it. After all, no one would connect Taylor Hebert with Foxfire when they look so different. "I'm here to give my statement. Officer Villers said he'd take it, confirmation code Sierra-117."

He sighed, shaking his head, muttering under his breath, jowls shaking. "Should have never showed him those Aleph games."

I pretended not to hear. Shouldn't have been able to anyways. "What was that?"

He grumbled, waving his hand, a small smile tugging his lips. "Nothing. Just the Chief and his little jokes." He eyed me appraisingly, gaze lingering. "Apparently he thinks you're a real badass."

My head jerked, I took a step back. "He's the Chief of Police?"

He leaned back, nodding, pulling his cap down so only his grin showed. "Yeah, has been for the last forty years. You'd think he'd have the decency to give up already and let someone new in, but I think he's gonna hold on till he kicks the bucket. Doesn't act like an eighty year old should."

I think my jaw hit the floor. "He's eighty years old?"

His grin grew wider. "Yeah, you usually picture them as doddering, doting grandpas, doing a whale or a scarecrow impression, right? Get this, the guy works out more thanI do."

I looked to the side, hair shading my eyes. "Not that that's saying much." He grumbled, and I hid a shy smile. Was everybody who worked here so nice? When I looked back he was once again eying me, seriously this time. "You know, I expected you to be older. Never saw him bring a teen for a statement, at least not so soon. Usually he gives you guys time to angst."

Scratch that thought. I rolled my eyes, "Sure. Would you mind telling me where I can find him?"

He stood, ponderously, with great weight; half affected atmosphere, the other half his actual gut. "Milady, the Labyrinth of Crete is a perilous place. I will guide you, but finding your way out is more perilous yet, and I cannot help you with that endeavor. Instead, I give to you this spool of magical thread. Tie it upon an upturned rock; so that once you find the beast, you may so exit." He bowed, holding out a ribbon spool, green, with snowmen on it. I didn't know how to respond to his butchered literature, so I just stared. It was starting to get pretty awkward till I heard a snicker and turned around, seeing the officer on door duty cracking averysuspicious yawn, facing away. I sighed, facing the genuflecting boar in blue. "I get it. I'll follow you."

He just smiled at me, chuckled, and motioned for me to follow, completely at ease. I spent half the time checking out the building, half my guide. He was large, irascible, happy, and seemed determined to meet all the police stereotypes while still coming off aslikable. He stopped for donuts two doors down, offering me one. I declined, still kind of wierded out. He was loud, obnoxious, and disrupted everyone else's work. No one seemed to mind all that much though, greeting him happily or with bemused resignation, except the guy who slammed his door as soon as we approached it, grumbling about rules, regulations, and opera. I wasn't sure how the last one fit. Jeff, the guy I was following according to all the grumbles, just shrugged. "New guy. Still got a stick up his a- er, behind. He'll come around soon enough."

In all honesty, I was glad for the distraction Jeff provided. It kept me from being nervous. Maybe he picked up on something,that's why he was acting out so much. Then again, nobody else seemed too surprised by his antics, though I heard plenty of snerks, snickers and chuckles not too long after we passed out of mysupposed hearing range. Before long we stood outside a plain door, only embellished with a plate of brass denoting name, rank, and number. I heard typing, the click-clack of fingers on keys like the tolling of a graveyard bell. Jeff stopped outside the door, knocking twice. It opened, Chief Villers stepping out, a tired but kindly smile on his face. "Hello Jeff. Who do you have here?"

He cleared his throat, grinning. "One Sierra-117, here to give her official statement." Chief Villers gave me a once over, looking somewhat exasperated. I shuffled awkwardly. He pinched his nose, exhaling. "Thanks Jeff, I'll take it from here."

Jeff grinned, saluting before plodding away. "Whatever you say, Chief."

Off-ChiefVillers opened the door waving me in. "You weren't the one who chose that outfit, were you? You seem rather uncomfortable."

I winced as I stood, fidgeting awkwardly. "No sir. This was Seka's insistence. Naoko's daughter."

He sighed, sitting down. "I figured as much, you seem rather uncomfortable, though that doesn't explain the whisker marks."

I cringed, hand raising reflexively. I should have felt makeup, a scar, an obstruction,something.It was only smooth skin. Washing didn't help either. "I'm somewhat attached to them."

His held my gaze a moment before nodding, lips curling in amusement. "Ah, I see. Well then, would I be able to get your name, or would you like to remain anonymous?"

"I would like to remain anonymous."

He opened his hand, revealing a recording device. "Then for the purpose of this interview we will refer to you by the codename 'Sierra'. Mind you we do not normally allow anonymous statements so if this happens in the future we will require your real name, but we make exceptions for a Parahuman incident." He turned on the device. "Now, what can you tell me about the hostage incident? Start at the beginning, your first recollections if possible, along with your age around seventeen I suppose?"

"I'm fifteen." He winced, hands knotting a bit before relaxing, gesturing for me to continue.

I took a breath, calming myself down, reviewing my story. "I was walking through the docks, exploring some abandoned houses, when two thugs came in, carrying a bound woman. They looked…"

x-x

Interlude 1: Chief of Police, Cedric Villers

I left my office, threading my way through the desks. It was rather quiet. Some calls followed me, but it was a lazy day at the office, kidnapping excepted. PRT took over much of the investigation since Parahumans were involved. Because I wasn't looking for any of them, no one paid me much mind. I reached the Records and Reports room, took a moment to compose myself, and then opened the door. Sunas looked up briefly before going back to sorting paperwork. "Chief Villers. Do you have the paperwork and the videos?"

"Yes. The statements are stacked in chronological order by person, the videos of our respective conversations in the same."

He mumbled, waving towards the drop off pile. Chuckling, I tapped him on his head, and he slowly returned to the real world." Buh?"

Sometimes I worry about that boy. I stooped down, trying for a soothing tone. "I'm sorry Sunas, but I'm afraid I'll actually need a little more from you. I need all footage that we might have of the site of the hostage situation and the clinic, going back as far as five hours before the kidnapping. I wish to personally investigate the situation."

His eyes snapped to me. For an instant, just an instant, I felt like I facing down Cerberus, the ruthless three headed dog at once evaluating, acknowledging and dismissing me. Then that moment ended and it was just Sunas, the thin middle-eastern desk jockey with his shaggy hair, haggard face, and an oddly resonant voice. He nodded, returning to what he did before. "I will have the copies in your office in half an hour."

I stood there, blinking, before shaking myself out of it. Too much coffee, too little sleep. I waved at Sunas, nodding as I left. "It has been a pleasure; keep up the good work and good luck with all that paperwork."

He glared balefully at it, like his gaze could light a fire. "This too must end."

x-x

What was I thinking? Check on my granddaughter, what for? She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, the irascible nuisance.

"Grandpa, you said you'd show me your worktoday!"

I rubbed my forehead, trying to work out a knot. "I know honey, but next time, I promise." There was some static from the other end, some tumbling. I waited, and she eventually picked up her cell. "Though certainly not withthatattitude. Police work is serious business, the last thing we need is drama in the office."

"I know, it's just I…every time you say I can comesomethingcomes up. A robbery, an investigation, something! I bet if there was a cat up a tree you'd find a way to use that as an excuse. Do you think I'm too young or what?"

Yes, and disruptive besides. "Heavens no. Why, just today I had a girl come in, your own age, play an integral part as a witness, helping identify the main perpetrators of a kidnapping. I have evidence she might have done more, even."

"Great. So maybeI should go looking for trouble, getting involved in a crime seemswayfaster than asking my grandpa,the Chief of Police, to show me around the office." I tried to get a word in, but she cut me off, speaking in a high falsetto. "No grandpa I get it. 'She'll mess something up. It's too dark, it's too dangerous, and she's fragile.'That's what you're thinking, right?"

Strong willed like her mother, quick of tongue like her father. Such a frustrating granddaughter. She would bloom to be quite the rose, but for now I could only see thorns, fresh and prickly with youth. "Hun, that's not-"

"Grandpa. I get it really. Really I do. Something bad, somethingsimilarhappened to me, and now you're scared how I'll react. I'll be fine. If anything, Ineedthis. I can't be a Hero, not a real one, not with powers. I want to get as close as I can, to help them like they helped me, to lock away the criminals for good. I want to represent the people who aren't parahumans, but aren'tsheep, willing to stick their neck out to make a difference. I want to be like the PRT, like the police. Grandpa, I want to be likeyou."

I said nothing, waiting for her breathing to slow, for her to calm down. The silence stretched on, then-

"Sorry."

Grinning, I took a small draft of coffee. A little too hot. She had her heart in the right place at least. "Don't worry, my feelings weren't hurt. Though your comment on sheep was a little over the top. Not everyone wants to fight crime for a living. However, I didn't know you felt so strongly about this. Perhaps I've been a little inconsiderate of you, but truthfully, everyone is busy today. Besides Jeff." She cursed, and then paused. "Wait! Youneverpick up when you'rereally busy, so you'vegotto be free. Can I come over, just for a bit, please? You're people are working on somethingbig.I won't interfere, at all! I'll be quiet and keep to myself, I just want to watch."

I blew on my coffee, staring at the screen. "Sorry sweetie, but it's getting late, and you have school in the morning. How about I show you the workspace tomorrow, hmm? I'll make that a Villers promise. We're still working at uncovering a kidnapper-turned-assassin." Her grumbling turned happy, and my grin downright malicious. "But if you want, I couldtextyou the details right now."

She groaned, I smiled. "Thanks Grandpa, but it might be better- I mean, you've had a hard day. I wouldn't want to take up your time when you'reobviouslybusy. Maybe some other time?"

I sighed as forlornly as possible. "If you're sure hun, your old gramps isn't out of the technological arms race yet! Love you, and don't forget to study. Your motherdid tell me about that test you know."

"Yeah yeah...talk to you later grandpa." She hung up. I sent a quick text to Zoe to check up on her, lacking any of the slang or emoticons our little rose was so afraid of. That granddaughter of mine loves to procrastinate. Much like her mother. I sent another to my errant son-in-law.

I turned back to my computer, staring at my screen. Fascinating.

Checking further around the abandoned docks didn't reveal anything suspicious. At least criminally, not in or around that particular building. However, it didn't reveal any Asian teens out exploring. Instead what appeared to be a curly haired Caucasian girl wearing grey sweats and hoodie, along with a purple backpack with a frayed strap. While such clothes were common in the worse neighborhoods in Brockton Bay, the backpack was nearly identical to what my mysterious Sierra carried. I zoomed in. Fraying on the left side, and what appeared to be a Protectorate logo. The grainy footage made it harder to tell. I zoomed in on the face of the girl.

Who lookedoddlyfamiliar, come to think of it.

I checked my photos on a hunch. Sixty odd years of police work taught me to trust them. I came across the one I was looking for. About three years ago my granddaughter, a cheery redhead, stood beside an awkward looking curly haired brunette. Her pose was nearly identical to Sierra's when she was embarrassed. Legs close, hands behind her back, one gripping her elbow, head down, hiding behind her hair. Best friends scrawled across the back in red, followed by the messy little signatures of children. Or people who signed too much paperwork. Well, without better resolution I couldn't be sure, and it wasn't part of the case, but... Smiling, I picked up the phone.

I joined the police force for a bit of mystery. An adventure, if you will. As I grew older it became more of a job, a responsibility, yet a passion nonetheless. I may be getting a little long in the tooth, but that youthful part of me that cheered at the adventures of Sherlock survived. Thrived even, what with the advent of Capes.

If I was wrong, well, then I was wrong. It would be a harmless bit of fun. I would even get to thank her in person; god knows she needed some extra source of confidence. I would also be letting my granddaughter aid in an 'investigation', leaving her none the wiser. Excellent! I felt a grin forming as I reached for my phone, a little thrill of excitement.

"Hey gramps."

"Hello hun, how would you feel about giving your dear old gramps a tour of your school?" -

x-x

Foxfire 1.4

After the settlement with Winslow High I expected school to go a little better, bullying a little lighter. Subtle jabs instead of outright barbs, getting tripped in the hall, nothing big. But this? This is justeerie.

Mr. Gladly was talking about Rogues and their place in society. Interesting, especially now, but…

I glanced around surreptitiously, peaking at Madison, part of the main trio of bullies plaguing me at school. She ignored me, chatting happily with my friends. I'd ran into her earlier on accident, feeling a little off balance. I hadn't noticed the day before but I'd been moving with an almost preternatural grace. Changing back had been a bit of a shock. Oh, I'm not any less coordinated than I used to be, but it was just the dichotomy between my body moving how I wanted, where I wanted, and the little fumbles I made every day. No big deal, just had to remember my limits.

Still, I expected to be punished for that somehow. For Sophia to show up, jostling me. Maybe Emma to start tearing into me, for Madison to turn this against somehow, get me detention. Honestly that fall gave her much more to work with than usual, but she didn't do anything. Her expression had soured, hands forming into claws, but she stopped. Brushing me off, ignoring me. That was two hours ago.

I palmed my pepper spray, eying a head of red hair.

What is Emma even doing here? This isn't her class. One of her stomping grounds sure, but she has world history right now, not parahuman studies. But she had been here from the start, calmly walking in and taking a seat, striking up a conversation with Madison like nothings the matter.

Mr. Gladly didn't even bat an eye as he walked in. No one questioned it. Did I miss something in my stay at the hospital? Something important? Is everyone in on this? Some kind of conspiracy to screw me over, flaunt the fact that the person, people who locked me in a fucking locker were running free, putting them in my classes? Is this to make some kind of point?

Gladly was still talking and I tried to tune in but I kept getting distracted, eyes returning to watch Emma and Madison. This wasn't working. I raised my hand straight up. Gladly kept talking for a while, finishing whatever point he was making. I didn't pay attention. He finally looked my way. His gaze was normal, tone even. "Yes Taylor?"

"Can I get a pass for the bathroom?"

He smiled, going behind my desk, passing me the slip of paper. "Of course. Don't take too long, were getting to the interesting part." Then he turned, facing the rest of the class. "Now according to the Parahuman Response Team's founding charter…"

I turned, leaving. No one called after me. There were no shifty looks, no extended legs and no painful whisperings.

I made a beeline for the bathroom, keeping my head down. No Sophia waiting to jump me. No gaggle of girls to intercept me. It made me nervous.

There's no way they would let me off this easily. Especially not after hospitalizing me, getting away pretty much scotch free.

I reached the bathroom and splashed my face with some water. There wasn't anything to clean, but it helped me calm down, helped me center myself. I turned towards the door, half expecting someone to jump in, spray me with something. Nothing.

I breathed, unclenching my hands, trying to relax. Calm down. They were being reprimanded, the school supposedly cracking down on them, looking out for me. The bullying is finally ending. No reason to be suspicious. Besides, I'm a Hero now. If they come after me, I can take them. I won't go after them, but…

The locker won't happen again. It won't.

I stared at the door a second before shaking myself, heading back to class. Worrying wouldn't do me any good. If they aren't going to jump me, good. If they are I could tell the faculty and hope they actually did something about it. They didn't last year, but there's still a chance they will.

Not that I have my hopes up. I kept my head down, rounding the corner.

Which is how I found myself on the floor, blinking, fumbling for my glasses.

"Ah, terribly sorry, hear you coming around that corner, my senses aren't what they used to be. Here, let me help you."

I nodded, relief flowing through me as he handed me my glasses. I started rubbing them with my shirt, trying to clean some of the grime off. "No worries, I should have been paying more attention."

"Not so Sierra. I'm sure you have much on your mind. Your previous day was very hectic after all."

I stopped, blinked, and quickly brought my glasses to my face. Chief Villers stood there, an impish smile on his lined face, green eyes dancing. This explains the bullies' good behavior, but what is he even doing here? And what did he just say? Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I spent the last few days at my home, resting."

He nodded, humming, eying my backpack. I turned, shifting it behind me. Maybe not just a slip. I should have accepted Seka's offer for a new backpack. Stupid of me, using the same one all yesterday and then bringing it to school. Still, I look nothing like when he last saw me. "Really? My apologies. It's just that you seem so alike."

I stepped back, breaking out in a cold sweat. "Look, I have no idea who this Sierra person is. My name is Taylor Hebert. Does she look like me or something?"

"Not quite, but similar in spirit I believe."

"I really think you have the wrong person. I'm not heroic, not at all."

He shook his head. "Sorry Ms. Hebert, but I'm not so sure myself. "He just stood there with this confident gaze grandfatherly smile, his words and expression utterly at odds with his actions. I checked him for any hidden aggressive body language, a twist of his lips, a clenched muscle, a devious look, something villainous.

He's exposing my identity. You don't do that. The people who expose a Parahuman's identity don't last long because everyone else hunts them down. Why is he doing this? What did he have to gain? Blackmail? It didn't fit the impression I had from his yesterday. Chief Villers gave me the impression of a hardworking, law abiding, kindly old man. When I grew up, I wanted to be like him. Still working, still fighting, still making a difference. Cleaning up the town. Helping the people. Actually doing his job. One of the few authority figures In the past few years I felt I could respect.

Then again, I'd already been betrayed by Emma, my best friend for years. Compared to years of bullying, verbal abuse and being hospitalized by her hands, I've experienced worse. Honestly, this is tame by comparison. It shouldn't matter as much. I should have been used to it by now. I made a show of glancing around the hallway, making sure there was no one around, buying me time to think.

How the hell did he even find out? Is he a Thinker? A backpack alone is pretty thin information to go on, especially when 'Taylor' and 'Sierra' look nothing alike, but he seems so sure. I'd seen Sophia on my bus ride back home from the police station. She was sitting in the back and glanced at me. I had flashed her a grin then did my best to ignore her, glancing at the mirror every once in a while. Every time I did her gaze was boring a hole in the back of my head. Did she somehow make the connection? Body language, backpack, word choice? Did she stalk me home, see me transform? I thought I was hidden but could certainly see her doing that, exposing my identity as well. Did she put Villers up to this?

I pulled on my well of energy to steady myself with. It caressed my mind, pushing some of my worries back, letting me focus on the situation. I felt my thoughts crystalize, come to the situation at hand. I'd found out I could do this without transforming last night, experimenting as my dad slept.

In all honesty, my position is better than usual. The reason Emma gets away with what she does because the whole school is behind her. There are never any witnesses when she abuses me, no friends to take my side, no teachers that take me seriously. She's too entrenched, too popular, and there's never any evidence.

It would be the opposite if he chose to reveal my identity. Even though he is Chief of the Brockton Bay Police Department, he wouldn't be able to get away with outing me. People more important than him have been killed for this. The public opinion always went in favor of the exposed. It wouldn't help me if he actually went ahead and exposed me, but it would give me leverage. His life versus my identity. Whatever he wanted he would only get partial influence over me, and I would gain some over him. I just have to use it, make the first move. Take control.

I've dealt with worse. I can deal with this. I faced him, straightening, motioning towards an empty classroom with a blind camera. I'd been ambushed there often enough. He frowned, looking somewhat confused, but joined me. I took a moment to steady myself. "Fine. Just…make your demands already. Make it quick."

He frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Tell me your demands. Isn't that why you threaten to expose a capes identity? Blackmail? Or is just another bullying attempt? How the trio escalate past the locker, outing me as a cape?"

He blinked, staring at me a second. His expression shocked, aghast. "Is that what you think this is? A blackmail attempt? Exposing your identity? Some kind of bullying campaign?"

I glared at him. "You mean it's not? Then why were you so insistent, not letting the matter go? How did you even find out? The trio are the only ones who could connect me to 'Sierra', who wouldconnect me, and tell you about it."

He frowned. "Ms. Hebert, I assure you that is not the case. I was merely curious. I had no prior information of our identity, no ulterior motive. I called you Sierra on a whim to confirm a hunch, nothing more, your reaction provided confirmation. But that's not as important. Escalation? Bullying campaign? Would you be able to provide me with details? I can help."

My eyes burned as I stood still, staring. Maybe he is telling the truth? Maybe he can help me? He didn't look like he was lying, like he was just covering his bases. He looked worried, wrinkles coming together. They made him look older, his actual age. "Ms. Hebert? Are you alright?"

I looked away, gritting my teeth. No way to be sure. Better to say nothing.

He kept trying, persistent.

"Ms. Hebe…Taylor. Look at me, please. Tell me, what's wrong?" He moved, back in my line of sight. I looked to my left. He moved there, patient, waiting. I let out a breath, shaky, trembling, but didn't look away.

He looked at me a moment before his expression morphed, becoming soft, gentle. "I'm sorry if I came across as intrusive or aggressive. This isn't part of any bullying campaign, not an attempt at blackmail. Taylor, I was just trying to give you a compliment, comparing you to a very brave girl I met the other day." He paused, leaning down. Not much, but enough that his eyes were level with mine. "Without her help someone could have died. She is a very brave, very intelligent young woman, full of determination and strength. You just remind me of her somehow. Why, it's almost as if we met before! And even if someone gave out your identity, I wouldn't 'out you.'" He winked, flashing a conspiratorial grin. "I would never betray the anonymity of a witness."

A witness? Wha-

My mouth twitched. I snorted, laughed before I covered my mouth with my hands, keeping it in. I tried to keep quiet, to stop it but it was just so ridiculous so I crouched down, laughing quietly into my hands. I devolved to a fit of giggles. Tears flowed down my face as my eyes stopped burning. My giggles turned to hiccups and he was there, warm hand on my shoulder, whispering comfortingly in my ear. I couldn't see him, couldn't really understand what he was saying but it was soft, soothing and helped me calm down. I finally stopped, hiccups petering out and just sat there for a second, leaning against the wall. It lasted for a while before Officer Villers stood up, offering me a hand. I stared a second before taking it, pulling myself up. My limbs were shaky, a sort of pins and needles feeling, but my head felt clearer than it had in so long. "Ah, thanks for the help."

He chuckled. "Oh, there was no problem. Consider this my apology for being such a busybody. Really, I should have realized that possibly outing a 'witness' would be a possibly traumatic experience, but the thrill of solving a mystery made me blind. Are you feeling better now?"

I smiled at him, wiping some of my tears away, getting the water out of my hair. "Yeah. Much better actually."

He smiled back. "Good! I really didn't expect such an extreme reaction, but you must have been holding something in rather fiercely. Sometimes you just need an outlet." He glanced at the clock. "Well, it looks like I had better get moving; I promised my dear granddaughter I would give a presentation today. Really, she's such a handful. This was supposed to be my lunch hour! Still, she's sitting in a class she normally has at a later period, waiting for me. Best not be too late, wouldn't want to embarrass her."

I sniffed, mopping up the rest of the liquid on my face with a nearby tissue. "Yeah, I need to get back to class. This is only supposed to be a ten minute pass. It's been fifteen by now."

He shook his head woefully. "Time is a commodity, one it seems I'm fast running out of. Come, let's get going." He began to move towards the door before he paused, stopping. "Ah, you will be filling me in with the details on your bullying, correct? I would rather have something to work with before I start the investigation."

Nodding, I made my towards the door. "I have a fold filled with names, emails, and incidents that I have kept for the last year and a half. I could get it after class, bring it to the police station?"

He smiled as he left. "Excellent!" We both filed out, heading in the same direction down the halls. We didn't talk but it was a comfortable silence. I fiddled with a thread on my sleeve, as we got closer to the classroom. Chief Villers held out a hand, turning towards me. "You're heading back to class 3B? Parahuman Studies with Mr. Gladly?"

"Yes. Why?"

He looked at me mischievously. "Well, that happens to be the classroom I'm presenting in, on Parahumans and their impact on law enforcement. Just to warn you, there will be a small surprise at the beginning."

"I think I can handle it." Chief Villers made his way to the back of my class. I handed Gladly my pass and made my way to my seat, still feeling that small buzz, that little happy glow. I had forgotten how it felt to just relax. Emma start making her way to the front of the class, but this didn't hold my attention. Taking out a paper I began to doodle down ideas for my costume for when I go out heroing. Maybe something with armor? I'm fast but relatively fragile after transformation. Hmm…

Gladly stood up, clearing his throat. "Eyes up front people, we have a special guest today." He nodded to Emma as she walked up to the podium. So that's why she was here. She was going to look substandard compared to Chief Villers though, maybe bruise her ego. I doodled down a cage, putting a stick figure with red hair inside. She waved at the class. "Hey guys! So as you all know, Parahumans have changed a lot of how local law enforcement works. Villains are just too powerful for normal Police to handle so they switched roles. Rules were created and organizations like the PRT, the Protectorate and the Wards were created to deal with the sudden influx of super powerful people. However, far from being useless, the Police were worked into this structure, no less important than they had been, just more specialized."

She turned around, as she smiled at the entire class in turn, gaze settling on me. I smiled right back, pencil still working my paper. She couldn't affect me now. She would be behind bars soon enough, or at least expelled. Her smile wavered a bit but didn't falter. She coughed and looked away, motioning to the back. "While all of us here know about this, it's one thing to read and another to experience. Here to give us some insight on what actually happened is an eighty year old Police Veteran, my Grandfather, Chief Cedric Villers!"

x-x

So yeah, more on the way, just have to format them into chapters right now. Mostly in snippets.