disclaimer: none of this is mine.

The Endless Pursuit of Perfection

A Worm x JoJo's Bizarre Adventure story

Chapter 1: Brockton Bay's Newest Heroine

I don't remember the locker.

Well, I do, but it's a jumble of colors, feelings, and sounds.

I find it really odd, because it's supposed to be a trigger event, and trigger events are the worst days of a person's lives, right?

For some reason, what I remember more is the swirling fractals in space.

Words, no, concepts, are in my mind.

Destination, agreement, trajectory, agreement.

Then an asteroid wanders in and crashes the party.

PERFECTION.

More precisely, the asteroid tears through the fractals and runs straight into me.

And at the moment of impact... that's when I wake up in the hospital room.

I was never "attractive" in the conventional sense.

I am a bit too tall, I have a face that can be generously described as ordinary, I seem to be catching the bus called 'puberty' a little later than usual…

…and until the locker, I was being picked on by school by the popular girls.

Yeah, it's a cliché. I know. Watching it and living it are two different things, though.

It's several days after the locker, and I've already been sent home. Dad is asking me whether I should go back to Winslow, but I asked him for some time to think about my immediate future.

He kind of broke down and asked me to forgive him, because he hasn't been quite the same person since mom died. It's weird. I said it was okay, that we'd be okay, and that we'll come out of this stronger.

I kind of didn't expect it to be literal in my case, though.

Like the time when I told myself in the shower that "I wish I had a figure men and women would drool at in envy", and stepped out of it looking like a veritable Greek goddess, all supple curves with rigid musculature underneath them… I freaked out.

Thankfully, before Dad could come up and ask what was going on, I was able to return to normal, too-tall and too-thin butter-face Taylor Hebert, the perennially downtrodden girl at Winslow High School.

And it took me until bedtime to realize that holy shit, I have powers. I'm a cape or something!

During the weeks off I was given to "rest and recover" from the locker incident, I read up on all the cape literature I could.

All my research led me to a hypothesis: I was some sort of biological Tinker whose powers only worked on myself.

After a few failed attempts at trying to deliberately modify my appearance, a suggestion from the PHO forums said that "meditation sometimes helps".

I took the suggestion a bit facetiously, as how would one be able to learn to change one's self with some weird breathing exercise?

That was when the man started appearing in my dreams, and the voice started speaking to me.

You are worthy.

It was but a few days before school began anew, and I was hard pressed to figure out how to replicate that shower feat I did several weeks ago – changing my appearance would be a very good way to avoid running into the Trio when I do return to Winslow.

I was spending most of my early mornings jogging, and at the Boat Graveyard working on my powers.

Meditation didn't seem to help me, and I was at the end of my rope.

I'm not talking about breathing, my daughter.

I'm talking about breathing.

That was when I put my arm through several inches of steel with one frustrated punch.

I was in awe, when I looked at my arm, surrounded by a yellow haze, with sparks flying from it.

It was at that moment that I decided that, fuck it, I would be a hero and do my best to make this world a better place.

You've found your obsession.

I don't approve of it, but we are one and the same now.

Your obsession becomes your power, my daughter.

Progress came swiftly after that, as with further experimentation I found out that I could vary my rate of breathing and strike harder than usual, and I could change my appearance in a flash if I was breathing properly before the need arose.

The weekend before my return to Winslow, I had gotten breathing down pat, and could now change my physical appearance easily.

It wasn't quite Carrie level revenge on the Trio, but I had long since discarded their treatment of me to the bargain bin.

I was going to be a hero, and no scary teenagers were going to get in my way.

...but I suppose that would have to wait, since in my sleep, I apparently cut my bed in two because a freaking blade popped out of my arm while I was sleeping.

"You gonna be ok, kiddo?" Dad asked me as he puts another couple rashers of bacon on my plate.

"I will be," I answer. We have breakfast earlier than most, because I already told Dad that I plan to jog to school, and his job at the Dockworkers' Union requires him to be there at the crack of dawn. "Another long day at the office?"

"It's shaping up to be one," my father replied. "You know what time of the year it is."

I nod, and we have breakfast in silence.

Half an hour later, I see my father off to work, and I put on my jogging outfit, the clothes I wear for school in another bag, and begin my daily exercise routine, doing the long jog towards Winslow High School.

If someone told you that "a wretched hive of scum and villainy" was the best phrase to describe Winslow, I would have asked for a few moments to think before agreeing with you.

Mind you, it wasn't because of the Trio, but because this school is, well, to put it kindly, a fucking dump.

Gangs upon gangs and cliques within cliques litter this school, another part of the eponymous school-to-prison pipeline that my dad constantly rants and rails about whenever we watch the evening news.

There were used up drug syringes lying around, ethnic gangs wearing their colors proudly and getting into fights, and yes, the clichéd "cheerleader making out with football team captain under the bleachers" scene which I once glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, when I was still (comparatively) innocent.

I still see those two in between classes, and they still haven't gotten why I give them a wag of the eyebrow each time they pass me by.

As I pass by the entrance and see the sea of humanity walking along the halls, I let out a breath, and step forward.

I haven't actually seen to getting my locker changed, so the only thing I brought to school was a notebook and a pencil, aside from my running outfit, which I changed out of after I snuck into the girls' swim team showers.

Yes, being able to disguise myself as one of the last remaining swimmers in our school team finally paid off.

Doing some last minute modifications to make it different and I was easily in my classroom unmolested by the trio.

The first thing Dad noticed about me was that I was being really good at analyzing things. When there was a news report of another parahuman-led grooming gang being broken up, my first observation was "if they're serious about this 'all beliefs are equal', why are they giving this gang special treatment?". What followed was a discussion about government policy, law enforcement, and the PRT.

Dad said he'd at least try to pull some strings so I could get a GED and not have to worry about the trio.

Because right now, classes are starting to get stagnant and boring – I process lectures at an unbelievably fast rate, and when Gladly called me while I was looking out the window, I answer his question more or less perfectly.

Which reminds me, while I'm being left to my devices, allow me to introduce the Trio.

First, there's Madison Clements – she's the girl two seats to my right, because as soon as I entered this room, I felt a compulsion towards the second-to-the-last seat by the window. Greg Veder normally sat there, but when he saw me beat him to the spot, I just gestured to the seat to my right, and he went there.

Back to what I was talking about. Madison is the spotter of the trio; she only says really mean things when the other two get it going. She's also the one who does the most 'property damage': taking my things, throwing things at me, and right now, she's about to dump some pencil shavings on my head.

That's odd. As soon as she tips over her hands, my perception of time seems to move a lot slower. I take this opportunity to stand up and let her dump the pencil shavings on my now empty seat.

"Mr. Gladly, the PRT's policy on parahuman criminals isn't idealistic – it's pragmatic. There's a historical precedent set that 'in times of crisis, expediency rules', and the Endbringers have been an on-and-off crisis for humanity as a whole. You could even extend the unwritten rules to this policy of expediency," I said as soon as I stood up.

"That is a very... insightful thing you have just said, Miss Hebert," the teacher said. "Miss Clements, did you mistake your classmate's seat for the garbage bin?"

I completely disregard the malicious look she's sending my way, and tell her, "the bin's over there, Madison."

After a quick smattering of laughter and Madison placing the pencil shavings where they ought to be, I sit back down and continue thinking... only to be interrupted when I turn to see the seat beside me turned towards me instead of the board.

"Group work, Greg?" I ask without looking, and he answers a quick "yes".

The rest of the period passes by without much disturbance, probably because I had Greg hand over our paper.

I carefully place myself between several students as I use my powers to change my appearance again, this time to evade the two girls coming my way, apparently being alerted by Madison.

And thus let me introduce you to the other two members of the trio: Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess.

Sophia's the school track star. And apparently skilled in the ancient art of "running away", so says the man in my dreams when I mentioned that fact. She also likes tripping, kicking, and hitting, where the school's cameras can't see, and speaking this tripe about being a predator and survivor.

Bitch please, this isn't the Lord of the Flies, you're not Holden Caulfield, even if Holden Caulfield somehow turned into a young black woman.

I'm willing to bet good money that she was the one who pushed me into the locker, Madison was the one who came up with the locker… and Emma was the one who had the idea in the first place.

I myself am a bit surprised at how detached I am in describing Emma Barnes.

Once upon a time, she was my friend.

And when we transferred to Winslow, she turned on me.

It… still hurts to think that how someone I spent my childhood with turned out to be the one to stab me in the back… repeatedly.

By now it's receded to a dull ache that weighs me down at times, along with the need to know why.

I'm also betting Sophia had something to do with this, given how Emma's parroting Sophia's way of thinking.

It's a shame, though. Emma's a very nice-looking girl, the kind who bloomed early and is now getting all the positive attention.

With Sophia and Madison around her? Queen Bee of Winslow. Dad's a high-powered defense attorney. Models on the side.

But the brighter a person is on the outside, the more shadowy and sinister she really is on the inside. You've seen this, haven't you, Taylor?

A nondescript blonde in a French braid sneaks out of the crush of students into the canteen, and I can hear Emma's frustration at not finding me – she's taking it out a bit on Madison. Poor girl. I hope she doesn't rip her apart the same way she did me.

You seem oddly capable of mercy. I would not.

If only because if that girl triggers, she'd probably do something really stupid. It's not completely out of what little kindness in my heart I have left.

It's when I'm having my pita wrap in one of the school bathrooms that I make a breakthrough on my abilities.

One, I could sense the trio were coming long before they made it inside.

Two, when I whispered something, it was in someone else's voice completely.

Three, when I said "Occupied" in that melt-in-your-mouth contralto, they left without a word.

Interesting, I thought as I finished off the last of my lunch and changed my appearance to a blue-eyed, dark-haired girl in a red blouse.

Four, I could also modify what I was wearing.

How about that?

Classes continued without a hitch as I was able to elude the trio thanks to my newly-found extra powers.

Wouldn't you know it, I had one day of school free of their annoyance.

Having powers is pretty damn good, in my opinion.

It was when I returned home that I started looking up ways to defend myself. If I was going to be a hero, I'd have to start working on what I knew to be standard hero stuff. A costume (no capes), a gimmick… and other things.

The shape shifting skill I had would do wonders for my disguise.

First, change my body into that one from before – the Greek goddess one – and then add the costume.

Maybe a gauntlet where my arm blades can pop out of?

Armor that's light and strong. Spider silk or something similar. Bits of yellow to mask that weird aura stuff I channel during breathing. Maybe a gray color scheme? Nah, too Alexandria.

Hmm.

How about some bits of purple and yellow?

I spend the rest of the night doodling up costume ideas while waiting for Dad to come home.

Dad came home late, and unlike before, he was just tired, not drunk.

I quickly put the sketch book away before tending to him, bringing out a cup of decaf coffee and reheating tonight's dinner, while he told stories about the day's work.

"...I know he's part of the Empire, and that he's being coerced to spy on his fellow dock workers. His daughter's in Winslow, too, and they might go after her out of general principle," Dad explained.

"What would be required for him to escape the Empire's yoke?" I asked aloud. "Any action on his behalf would lead to retaliation against his daughter, and vice versa. The Empire has this racket covered very well... unless you're deliberately giving him flawed intelligence and planning around it?"

"Best I can do to keep the union and his family safe, kiddo."

We finish dinner.

"Taylor, you know that I've been trying to be a better dad as of late," he began after finishing his coffee. "If there's anything you need to tell me, I'll listen."

A minute passes by before I finally speak.

"Dad..." I begin, "I think I have powers or something."

My father did not look at all perturbed at this declaration.

"What do you mean?"

I told him everything, including the wrecked bed.

"Now I really have to work overtime to get you that GED or out of Winslow," my father said as soon as I finished my explanation. "It simply will not do if you somehow lose your temper and cause an incident with those three girls. But there is one thing that bothers me: why doesn't Alan seem to know what's going on with his daughter?"

"I've been trying to figure that one out myself," I answer. "How did you know?"

My father just scratched the back of his head.

"That time with the news. Grown-ups don't figure out those things as fast and as objectively as you did."

"But are you okay with me being a hero, or something?"

Daniel Hebert shakes his head.

"I will never be okay with my little girl putting herself in danger for others," he says. "Which means, I have to make sure you are at your best whenever you head out."

"You mean-?"

"We'll work on your hero thing together, little owl."

I positively sparkled in the dimly-lit dining room, because it would mean Dad would spend less time doing overtime and more time with me.

It was selfish, admittedly, but this was the best thing I heard from him since Mom died.

Close to three months have passed, and Dad and I have collaborated on figuring out the extent of my powers.

We quickly found out in the Boat Graveyard of my second power: my ability to shape shift seemed to be an offshoot of my ability to regenerate.

It took a bunch of gun-toting Merchants for us to figure that one out – my father swore that he lost several years of his life when he saw me take several bullets to the torso. And then after that scare, I stood back up like it was nothing, my wounds closed, and the Merchants were quickly dealt with.

From there, we tested everything: the blades on my arms, the biological armor we designed, the mask I wore to conceal my identity, and the powers I gained whenever I breathed; that took the form of a yellow aura that crackled whenever it was active.

First time I tested it out with my father watching, I put another hole in a shipwreck with just a punch.

"Best work on how to minimize the effects of that aura if you want to use it against unpowered opponents," Dad said, and thus we spent time on testing the limits this yellow aura had.

As a positive side effect, Dad seemed to be a lot more energetic as soon as he learned how to breathe, when I explained to him how the process worked. He didn't have the yellow aura, but Dad found lifting and moving things to be easier when breathing the same way I did.

And now, I'm about to head out wearing an ordinary outfit and looking like ordinary Taylor Hebert, only to change in the shadows to what I know to be my heroic form, with my dad hovering over me and doing some last minute checks.

"Costume?"

"Check."

"Taser?"

"Check."

"Pepper Spray?"

"Check."

"Three quarters for emergency phone booth contact?"

"Check."

"When facing a parahuman?"

"If I'm overpowered, I should run away."

"Okay, you're ready. If tonight's test sortie is successful, we're going straight to the PRT and getting you into the Wards."

I nod at my father.

"By the way, dad, how is it that you know just as much about parahumans as I do?"

"Your mother used to run with a villain named Lustrum," he explained.

He never said any more – I understood what he meant.

"See you in a couple hours then, Dad?"

"Take care of yourself out there, Taylor. Be home safe."

"Will do, Dad."

I could tell him to go to sleep but he'd be up all night worrying about me, so I just give him a hug before I step out into the night.

Five minutes in, I hit pay dirt. Several ABB goons were making their way to the Docks. It didn't take a genius to be able to get close enough to hear what they were saying.

"...boss has been on edge ever since the Ruby got hit..."

"...we finally have them run down..."

"...it's a matter of honor..."

When I finally gained enough information as to what was going on, I decided to make my move. One slight flex of my powers and I was in the same jeans-jacket-mask ensemble the goons had, and I entered into step with them.

"Oi, Nobu," the first goon asked, this one had a shotgun, "what took you so long?"

"This and that," I reply. "How much did the Ruby lose?"

"Nearly all of its liquid assets," Goon #2 replied, this one had an assault rifle. "Dammit, it wasn't even one of ours. The Boss just used it as a front to keep our salary. Shit. Guess we'll be living off instant ramen for the next two weeks."

"That sucks," I say, empathizing. "You guys know who did it?"

"Yep," Goon #1 said, hefting his shotgun, "and we're going to show them why nobody messes with the ABB."

I grimly nod along and go with them to the Docks.

It took us about fifteen minutes to take the walk to where the rest of the Azn Bad Boyz gathered, and on the way I was picking up tidbits of information the other two goons were saying. Once there, their leader was on a perch and bellowing out instructions.

"You will all coordinate properly," I heard him say. "Do not shoot to kill. Herd the children to where Lee and I will move and deal with them accordingly. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" the gathered ABB goons replied in unison.

"We have them pinned down. Just follow the plan and we will regain what we have lost," Lung, the dragon of Kyushu, said. "Disperse! You, new guy, with me."

The man pointed a finger at me before going down from his perch and moving behind one of the containers, where I cautiously followed him.

As soon as I turned the corner, I saw him in a stance, hostility oozing off him. "Are you here to stop us?" he asked, his eyes beginning to smolder.

"No," I answer. "But the Ruby isn't run by you or your group."

"It is a legitimate business I own," Lung replies. "But you know the prevailing attitude towards villains and warlords owning businesses, even in a city like this."

"Either a dummy corporation or a figurehead answering to you," I speak my thoughts out loud, "I heard from your subordinates. Nearly everything liquid was lost. I can understand the need for reprisal."

"Then you have to step aside. This is a matter of honor."

"Honor's worth nothing if not tempered with reason," I retort.

Lung laughed, sending tongues of flame into the air with each guffaw. "I like your spirit! Show your true form. Perhaps we can settle this later."

My disguise instantly shifts into my "hero" outfit: gray armor with purple and yellow accents, and a helmet that looks like a granite mask, my brown hair flowing free in the night breeze.

"I could smell you coming here," he said. "But I will deal with you later. I need to make a statement, that no one steals from the Dragon of Kyushu and lives to regret it."

"Be my guest," I reply, and I leave him to his business. "How sure are you that this night will end with no loss of life?"

"I am a dragon!" Lung roared. "I am no tiger that cannot gauge his own strength. You will inevitably pay for your impertinence in the future."

"if you're targeting children for this deed, I think I want to pay it forward now, Lung," I say, going into a stance. "How about we fight for the right to see who confronts these children you are talking about?"

"And you would lose."

"If I win, I'll still get you what you've lost back, and everyone walks away with no one the wiser."

"A good offer."

He roars.

"Let me see if you can back it up!"

Oni Lee gives a hand signal, and the ABB goons quickly disperse to the outskirts of the docks.

Lung jumps down from the container and walks towards me, cracking his knuckles.

Party time.

Kenta

This armored woman is unlike any hero I have seen.

She does not smell like any hero or villain I have run into.

Heroes and villains smell of their need to be a hero or villain.

This woman does not. She disregards me with a lightly amused insouciance, almost as if I am her equal instead of her superior.

"Let's dance!" she says, and sparks begin to appear from her armor.

"Ladies first," I try to say, but my transformation has already distorted my voice.

She moves in with unbelievable speed, cocks her fist back…

…the next thing I know, I am regenerating half of my side as I try to get up from an container that's been crushed like a tin can.

So, this woman is strong!

Taylor

He's going to have to get up from that.

Lung's too strong to be taken out in one blow.

Granted, I gathered as much of the power I could from breathing and just slammed it into the side of his face with my fist.

But damn, that's some damage. I blew off half of him away, and he's regenerating.

Instead of roaring in anger, is that joy I'm sensing from him?

Is he… happy to fight me?

"GOO'!" he roars, and the Dragon of Kyushu begins to transform, only this time, he's trying to control the way his power is escalating.

He's focusing his power.

He sees a real fight!

Okay, Taylor, let's give this guy what he wants!

The dragon charged in, clawed hands outstretched, and with a swipe, take off several layers of my armor.

It would have been lethal had I not stepped back at the right time, and halt his advance with a jab to the face.

He sees my power regenerate the armor I've lost, and smiles a very reptilian grin as he presses the attack.

"Oh, so you're upgrading to claws now, huh?" I ask. "Well, two can play at that game!"

A curved blade erupts from each of my arms, and I use them to block the clawed swipes, only to get knocked back when the tail he suddenly grew smashes into me like a gigantic whip.

I recover in a flash, and move forward in an erratic zigzag pattern to counterattack, and telegraph a punch.

His posture changes and I take that chance to channel my yellow aura to one of my blades, causing the Brockton Bay night to become day for a second.

Lung grabs his eyes in consternation, and I take the chance given to bury several crackling punches in his solar plexus before retreating from another tail swipe.

But as soon as I make it to what I think is a safe distance, his tail grabs a container slab and hurls it towards me.

I stop thinking and immediately calculate my next move: summon my aura to my palms to help block the attack and redirect the slab back at him, this time saturated with that electric-like power I'm using.

It ends up working even better than I thought, as Lung's tail fails to account for the extra oomph the slab had when I returned it, and the Dragon of Kyushu ended up losing a tail for his trouble.

He doesn't bother to regenerate it as he charges and throws a punch, which I meet with my own.

I cannot believe how fun this is.

I'm all smiles under the mask, and I can see Lung's draconic face also in a grin.

After an attempt to kick me which I easily dodge and retaliate with my own, we both back up.

We are both breathing heavily after that exchange.

"Oo' goo'," he says.

"You're not too bad yourself," I reply, and then I could hear one of the goons shouting.

"PRT's here, make a run for it!"

We both turn to the source and see and hear the sirens coming. Probably a hero, if what the goon says is true.

"Sorry, Lung. Can't play no more," I say, and the dragon grunts in frustration, smoke coming out of his nostrils.

He signs towards Oni Lee to create a diversion while the other unpowered ABB goons are scampering off like flies, and as the sirens loom closer, he takes a deep breath and reverts to his unpowered self.

"You win for now," Lung says, "but I want my money. And a rematch."

I smirk at him under the mask.

"You got it," I reply; with surprising speed, the Dragon of Kyushu makes his exit, and by the time the Tinker tech motorcycle pulls up to me, I am standing alone in the docks, with nothing but foot tracks, drying blood, and wrecked containers keeping me company.

The PRT hero known as Armsmaster was once one of my favorite childhood heroes (top five – more like top three. Still won't top Mouse Protector, though), and he was now alighting from his motorcycle, stance clearly defensive as he steps towards me.

"We received word of a disturbance in the docks. Reports were that Lung was fighting an unknown parahuman. Are you that unknown?"

Maybe because I was still somehow a fan, I nodded, not trusting my voice to break or my childhood hero worship to show up at the worst possible time.

"What about Lung?"

I take about half a minute to recover my composure (a new record) before I reply.

"I fought him off. He escaped," I answer, trying my best to be nonchalant. "Even did the whole 'I'll be back, rawr,' thing."

Yes, I raised my hands and made them look like claws while I modified my voice to sound more like Lung, just for the added immersion.

"Readings say inconclusive," I can make out Armsmaster whispering to the helmet receiver. "And your reason for fighting him is?"

"He said there were children he and his gang were hunting down. I goaded him to a fight, given his... confrontational tendencies," I reply. "Gave more than I got, even."

"Readings say correct."

Another whisper.

"I see. Does that mean you are interested in becoming a hero?"

I smile at him under my mask.

"That's what I've stuck around for," I say proudly. "Tonight was supposed to be my coming-out party. Well, given what I've accomplished, I think it still counts."

The blue-armored hero nods at me.

"Very well," he replies, before he reaches into a compartment in his belt and hands me over a calling card. "Show that to the desk officer and I'll walk you through the registration process myself. What name do you want to use?"

I take a moment before giving my answer.

"…for now, call me Obelisk."

"All right. When can I expect you at the PRT?"

"This coming weekend," I reply. "Morning, around nine am or so."

Somehow the tension I feel from him abates, and he gets back on his motorcycle.

"Looking forward to it, Obelisk."

He revs up his cycle and leaves me to my thoughts.

Looks like tonight's little excursion was a success: I've proven I can hang with the big guns with my Lung fight, Armsmaster was a bit abrasive but seemed interested in me joining up and invited me…

…but there are still a few loose ends I need to tie up.

I head to my next destination.

Tattletale

We were about two-thirds of the way home when a shadow burst through the moonlight above us.

Pursuer.

And then the parahuman who had fought off Lung stood in the middle of the road, blocking our path.

"Good evening," she said in a deep, sultry voice. "We need to talk."

Grue was about to give orders to keep going, but something in the back of my mind said that was a terrible idea. I put a hand on his shoulder, and shook my head, stopping him.

After he told Rachel to halt, all of us alighted as I stepped forward to start talking to the female parahuman who had saved our bacon from Lung.

Taylor

"What's there to talk about?" the young woman in the black-and-lavender bodysuit asks. "Other than 'thanks for the assist against Lung', but that goes without saying."

"You're welcome," I reply. "But you know this comes with strings attached."

"You mean you're not helping us out of the goodness of your heart?" the kid in the renaissance fair costume asked.

"It's just a bunch of questions, nothing more," I tell them. "And then we go our separate ways, for now."

They don't seem convinced.

"What kind of questions?" the running back asks, and I raise my hands in a gesture of nonviolence.

"The kind of questions that will help untangle this," I reply. "Like, your group doesn't do massive ops or require extensive props like Uber and Leet do. Ruby's liquid assets were decimated."

The giant dogs that were apparently a byproduct of Hellhound's abilities were beginning to growl as the tension on the street began to rise.

Heck, add a Western theme and it would be perfect, but that's not what I'm going for right now.

"I think I already know what needs to be known," I announce. "Like the saying, 'ask me no questions and I tell you no lies', isn't that right, Tattletale?"

She laughs nervously.

"You've done your homework."

"Any aspiring hero needs to do their homework, you know," I reply before stepping to the sidewalk. "It's been fun meeting my first group of villains without it ending up in a fight. I'll see you around."

They hop on Hellhound's giant dogs and leave even faster than before.

Yeah, this is good. I have a mystery to solve, a registration to go to, and a fight I won.

Tonight's not so bad for a hero making her debut.

I retreat to the shadows and emerge as a random person before transforming to Taylor Hebert in an alley not too far from home.

When I enter the front door, my father is still going over a few notes we had made about the villain groups in the city.

He definitely needs to know how I plan to work on the gangs – either legitimize or neutralize them.

Lisa

"Okay, what the fuck was that all about?" Brian asked me the moment we entered the hideout, and I found myself thinking back to what I discovered about the mysterious new parahuman we encountered.

Didn't fight Lung to keep us from danger.

Fought Lung for the right to ask us about the Ruby Dreams incident.

Will try to find a way to keep Lung away from us in the future by strong-arming us… or appearing to.

"She knew, Brian," I reply, taking off the mask before I head to the dresser and snag a paper towel to wipe the cold sweat off my face. "I don't know how much she knew, but she knows we're not as independent as we advertise."

She's probing.

She already knows some of the answers.

She's solved half of the puzzle, some of it even before meeting Lung.

She's dangerous.

Very dangerous.

"Shit," Brian said.

"But we still owe her," I add. "I think she's planning to meet us again, when things are not so hot. She has some sort of proposal for us based on what I read from her."

"Do you think it's a trap?"

"If it was, then she would have taken us out and dragged us to the PRT," I reply.

Everybody has a story to tell.

The bits of information I gained from this unknown cape was proving to be… wait a moment, she's been leading me along! Does she know what my powers are?

"Okay," I say. "Okay. We'll set up a meeting. Find out what's really going on… we'll need to scope out a place with easy escape vectors in case we have to run, and quickly."

"Is there something you're not telling us about this cape, Lisa?"

I shake my head.

"I have a hunch but I won't be sure until I meet her again," I tell Brian. "We do owe her, though."

My favorite hero is Mouse Protector.

"Lunchboxes again?" Alec asks me.

"Yeah," I reply as I reach for the Mouse Protector lunch box. "Our gesture needs to be… thoughtful."

Taylor

Dad was looking through the notes we gathered and adding some remarks of his own as I wound down the story of what had happened when I ran into Lung, Armsmater, and the Undersiders.

"Good work on your first night out," Dad finally said after he was finished taking notes. "What do you think will be happening over the next couple of weeks? Big picture."

"Ruby Dreams was meant as a way to lure Lung out into the open," I begin. "What little I've picked up from talking to and fighting Lung… I still have to verify if he's using the other gangs as an excuse to not go legit."

"Go on."

I look up to the ceiling.

"The Undersiders aren't as independent as they say they are. They're cogs in the machine. The real big fish is the one pulling their strings."

"How do you know someone's doing that?"

"There weren't any huge purchases or stunts done in the aftermath of the Ruby heist," I explain. "Which means the funds went somewhere. It's either deposited somewhere for safe keeping, or used as upkeep for something. Lung corroborated the mook I was talking to, nearly everything liquid in the Ruby was taken."

Dad nods.

"And you went to the Undersiders and implied you knew about this, setting them up for a future meeting where you can fish for more information and indicate that they may be used as pawns in a longer game, thereby diminishing their loyalty to whoever is bankrolling them?"

"That's right, Dad," I answer. "Still, though, I think Lung knows what I plan to do to pay back the funds he lost in the Ruby: beat it out of the Merchants."

My father laughs as he finishes off his cup of coffee and begins fixing the table, arranging the notes so I can read them again later in case we missed something.

"I already feel sorry for those drug runners," my father says. "Anyway, tomorrow's another school day. You can go to the Rig on the weekend, as you promised Armsmaster."

"I'll keep you posted if anything happens in school, Dad," I tell my father before I go upstairs to my room to finally catch some sleep – it had been a long day.

For the past several days, I've been treating the act of eluding the Trio like a game: go into one hall, change my appearance between students, pop out as a different person, go to the next class with no one the wiser.

Except I now have gym with the Trio and oh boy this is going to be awkward.

Just before the class ends, the three of them end up talking to me.

"So what's the deal with the cheering, Hebert?" Emma begins, and she's already beginning to seethe, as I give her the most 'Who, me?' look I can muster.

"I'm not allowed to cheer for a classmate on the track team? Even if it's Sophia?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here, Hebert," she snipes at me.

"You have the State championships coming up in a week or so," I say. "And I hear Arcadia got someone from Kenya on their track team. You're going to need every cheer you can, even from an insignificant gnat such as myself."

They clearly can't deal with the way I've adapted to their antics – Emma's turning red, Madison looks like a deer in the headlights, and Sophia looks like she wants to punch me.

A minute passes by before I continue.

"It's called 'peace of mind'," I say. "The three of you ought to give it a try sometime. Especially you, Emma. A little guided meditation won't hurt."

I turn and walk away, and I step over Sophia's attempt to trip me easily, leaving them stewing.

Honestly, the moment Dad and I stumbled onto this conspiracy involving the gangs, my situation at Winslow just dropped on my priority list. There's our trip to the rig to register, my meeting with the Undersiders later, and this...

So much to do, and there are not enough hours in the day to do them...

After gym the trio again try to find me, but keep failing, as I start flexing my Changer powers to change my entire physical appearance, even my gender.

(I have to thank Dad to show me how to walk like a man last month.)

...and now I'm at computer class, where I am reading the PHO boards. I sign in and check the connections…

Just as expected. I see two messages indirectly looking for me.

The first one is from Tattletale, which I quickly reply to – I'm fine with meeting in the afternoon.

The second one is unexpected. An ABB minion is looking for someone who knows the details of the unknown parahuman who fought Lung to a standstill. I also reply to that message and say that the unknown parahuman's liaison will talk to an ABB member in Winslow.

The next class – world affairs under Mr. Gladly – featured more group work, and one of Emma's flunkies – I think her name was Julie or something – tries to steal my work to pass to Emma's, but I deliberately write an essay full of gibberish, purple prose, and false leads.

"Uh, aren't you going to go and try get our paper?" Greg asks me, and we have around ten minutes left before the group work ends and we're made to present our essays in front of the class.

"Already have the essay done in my head," I say. "Just need to write down the valid points. If you're really as knowledgeable about parahumans as you are, Greg, you can fill in the blanks here."

I start writing, and Greg takes notes while we do the crunch-time rally.

Naturally, when it comes time to present, my essay full of crap wasn't even edited, and Emma's group gets a dressing-down from Mr. Gladly.

He may be a flake when it comes to student interaction, but when he sees academic incompetence like that, he becomes a completely different person. Julia glares at me and I just give her a wink in response.

Greg heads up to the front of the classroom, and despite him fumbling the pronouns in the first paragraph, he does a passable presentation of the work he and I did.

As soon as the class ends, Greg asks me if I'm free for lunch at Fugly Bob's – to which I thank him, but I have a lot of things on my schedule. I ask him for a rain check and he nods his head like an overly happy Chihuahua and leaves the classroom. I try to step out, only for Mr. Gladly to call on me.

"I'm not blind," he begins.

"If you wanted to do something about them, you would have done so years ago. There's this saying I picked up on the internet that goes 'for those who want it, there are a million ways; for those who don't, a million reasons'. I'm fine now, sir."

"And you're not going to take them to task?"

"Sir, if there's something I learned since January, it's that the universe tends to unfold as it should. There's no sense in me getting all riled up whenever people give me a hard time."

My smile becomes a bit mischievous because Gladly doesn't know what I'm referencing, and I continue smiling as I leave the classroom, only to run into nearly everyone in Emma's clique.

This is bad. If they gang up on me, they're going to see I regenerate. And I can't shape shift to elude them.

Should I try to bluff my way out?

What makes you fear them?

It's not them I fear, it's what happens afterward. I could just go through them, but that will only make things worse...

I see. You want to keep your identities separate.

That's the plan.

Let me see you put your intellect to the test under fire, my daughter…

You're not my dad, you know.

Ah, but you are still flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood.

It's the principle of the thing.

"Bringing the entire student body here, you guys?" I end up asking as I am surrounded. "For disposing of what you call an insignificant gnat, you seem to be going way overboard."

In what is an obviously rehearsed sequence, the girls start saying mean things about me.

The trouble is, I've already heard them say this countless times before.

Dad helped me in dealing with it when I revealed my powers, and said that the more people use their words to hurt others, the less power they have. In his words, "don't give those words a power over you they're not meant to have. Sure it will hurt, and you will want to lash out, but remember: people say hurtful things because it is the thing they are most afraid of."

It allows me to stay calm while everyone is launching into their overused insults towards me.

Couple minutes in, I raise my hand and will them into silence. Oddly enough, everyone in the corridor complies.

"If anyone has a personal problem with me and not because you're just following the Mean Girls here, step up. First shot's free," I announce, dropping my arms.

I close my eyes and expect someone to throw the first punch.

A minute in and I open my eyes, and it's just me and the trio in the corridor.

I raise my arms wide and step forward towards them.

"Well, what is it?"

They're still stunned at my display of sangfroid and I easily walk past them to my next class unmolested.

Wait a minute, that was a lot easier than expected.

You've barely scratched the surface of what you can do, you know.

After three months of figuring things out?

Oh, it will take more than that, my daughter. A lot longer than that.

The odd voice in my head is laughing softly as I head down the hallway towards my next class. But before I get to English, I pen a note and discreetly palm it to the first ABB-color wearing student.

Daniel

Ever since Taylor admitted to me that she gained powers since the locker room, I've had to take a serious look at my life.

From being a better father to learning how to delegate at the Dockworkers' Union and all the way to helping her become a hero.

As it turned out, the Dockworkers' Union were already good enough to work on their own for the most part, leaving me as the "nuclear option" should they need a better negotiator or policy maker in times of crisis (which is to say, since Leviathan, all the time).

The fact that Taylor taught me some guided meditation technique that gave me some sort of energy boost was also a factor – the last time I felt this energetic was in my twenties. I tried doing the breathing a bit longer than usual, and I became uncomfortably energetic that I had to go out for a run.

Now, all my work is done before lunch, and I spend my afternoons reading through Taylor's notes.

One of her scribbles on the Ruby heist caught my eye.

Ruby was a dry run. They're going to do a public demonstration within the next few days.

If their backer has other teams this is most likely a diversion.

I quickly turn to my computer and start looking through news articles on the Ruby heist. Maybe there was something we missed, something that could help Taylor over the next few days...

Taylor

I stop by a pay phone after school (in disguise, of course) and call up Dad, telling him I'm meeting the Undersiders later, and will come home a bit late.

As soon as the call finishes, I take two steps out of the payphone, and a jolt of nausea hits me.

What's this?

While I struggle to gain my bearings I begin to see everything blurred: images of people walking behind themselves, shadows in several shades of colors lighter following them.

And as soon as the nausea passes, so do the shadows.

Deja vu?

Possibly. By the way, you haven't told me who you are yet.

Let's just say you haven't earned the privilege to call my name. Get stronger, then you will know it in your heart.

Okay, now I know you're bullshitting me, I tell the voice as I make my way to the warehouse district to where the Undersiders will meet me. You've been reading those comics with me in my spare time.

But as you say, it is the principle of the thing.

Lisa

I sneak nervous looks at my watch.

The others seem to be picking up on my state, they're a bit on edge.

A few moments later, I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding as we hear the sounds of pavement cracking growing louder.

And then a gray blur leaps onto the roof of the building and lands close to us.

Perfect superhero landing. Her knees can handle the pounding. Was taught that the image of a superhero is important.

The gray blur reveals itself to be the unknown parahuman who fought off Lung on her own: she's wearing a skintight hero outfit with armor plates at strategic areas, textured like granite, but with purple and yellow accents.

The helmet covering her head looks like a heavily stylized mix of an Earth Aleph thing called a Metal Hero and an ancient Mayan vampire mask, her long brown hair is exposed, waving in the air.

"It's nice of you to show up," I say at the new arrival. "Apologies for not properly introducing ourselves."

Alec grudgingly hands me a hundred, I can feel the heroine's eyes narrow, and I feel an explanation is in order.

Taylor

The mask does not hide my smirk.

"You were taking bets on if I showed up in costume?" I ask.

Running back had at least the sense to look guilty, and the blonde answers.

"Or if you showed up at all."

"Showing up in costume is prudent after all," he says, extending his hand. "Brian."

"Lisa," the blonde adds.

"Alec," the renaissance fair guy finishes, "and the girl with the dogs – who is conveniently not here – is Rachel."

"She wasn't too keen on this meeting, I take it?" I ask, reading their body language carefully. I could smell their hesitation, and I nodded. "You should trust your teammate's instincts a lot more."

"Perhaps," Lisa replies, "but that's not just the thing we're here for."

I open the Mouse Protector lunchbox she hands over to me and see the money inside.

"You know, this is considered graft," I say, and Brian interjects. "It's a thank-you present. Lung was out for blood."

"And we kind of want to get on the good side of someone who can punch out half of him in one go," Alec added.

"Well, I didn't exactly fight Lung off out of the kindness of my heart or a desire to be a hero," I reply, and I punctuate my statement by breathing and letting out my power in a brief crack of yellow. "Nice job on the Ruby, by the way."

The mention of the Ruby stops them in their tracks.

"And you want in on something like that?" Lisa asked. "You're going to have to join us, first."

"Thanks for the offer, but that's not what I came here for. Just one or two questions answered. The Ruby was a dry run for your big villainous debut, huh?"

The lack of reply and the sudden change in their heartbeat and breathing I'm sensing means I've struck pay dirt.

"If you'll interfere – "

"Answer this question and I won't," I reply. "The three of you. I've done my homework on Rachel, and the circumstances forced her here. I can see the swords Damocles has hung over your heads."

As soon as I see Lisa's pupils shrink to pinpricks I know I have the Undersiders right where I want them.

I point at Lisa.

"And the hair holding it over you is beginning to fray."

I'm not even finished speaking when darkness begins to envelop me.

By the time it clears, the Undersiders are gone.

I open the lunch box again, and see that the tape used to bind the bills together has scratches on it. I breathe, focus, and carefully make out the letters " d" underlined several times.

Underneath my mask, I smile. My task is finished, and I know the whole story about this fledgling group of villains.

As I see the answers forming in my head, a slew of new questions begin to appear, and I set them aside until I make it home, making sure to add my notes to the intelligence I've gathered when I meet Armsmaster this coming Saturday.

And the moment I get home, I almost pass out on the doorway, as I am besieged by echoes of what look like a private military company going from door to door, apparently looking for someone.

None of this is making sense at all.

I enter my home and see my father poring over some documents.

Maybe I should tell him about today after dinner.

Nothing much happens the next day, except a Vietnamese student bumps into me, and reverse pickpockets an envelope into my bag.

When I got home, I open the envelope to see a voucher for two cyalumes and a ticket for an event on the weekend titled "433 Pro First Live: Viva Brockton Bay".

I am intrigued by the event name and look it up on the internet to see that it was an idol concert. Something like the NKT-Galactic sponsored group Concert, except these idols aren't parahumans in real life.

They do, however, portray parahuman idols in one of those animated things most of Winslow's student body seem to watch with near-fanatical devotion.

Dad tells me that I should go, but that I should be careful.

It's not yet lunch, but the amount of "echoes" I'm seeing in Winslow is enough to get me to ask the nurse's office for a sick slip and head home early.

As I try to ignore the buzzing in my head, I remember when I told Dad about it.

"You're seeing ghosts?"

"Kinda sorta," I replied at dinner. "They don't look like any ghosts in the movies, they move like people, and after something happens they just disappear. It's really odd."

"You've run into them earlier today?"

"Since a few days ago, while I was walking through town. Bystanders had a ghost of them walking behind them or ahead of them or something. It was really weird."

Dad passed me a note containing a single, critical question.

"Could it be another Gray Boy?"

My eyes widened. That was unexpected. And Gray Boy was one of the most dangerous parahuman villains to ever exist, being able to loop time endlessly for his victims.

My people had studied the concept before. Your description of this Gray Boy seems to be what we call an "endless recursion of zero". But...

But what?

You can modify your brain to lower the threshold from which you can see these "echoes", where you can see them. The headaches you are experiencing are also...

What?

Interesting. It seems your condition is a side effect of what we call entropy.

Entropy?

Your headaches should go away when you lower your sensitivity to these echoes, or ghosts, as you call them.

I think on it for a moment.

But I won't remove it completely. Maybe they can be useful in the future.

Very prudent of you.

I shake my head at my father. Still, it would do to be careful because Brockton Bay may be under the influence of a powerful Master-level cape.

"You may be in over your head, kid," Dad says after he finishes up dinner. "We should find a way to get to the Protectorate with this information."

"There's still something missing in this puzzle. A key piece," I say. "I hope I can find it before the weekend."

It is with these thoughts that I stumble out of Winslow, and remember to focus and breathe, and before I know it, the echoes subside and I am looking at a (mostly) clear street.

With my migraine gone and the rest of the day free for me to go around town, I decide to take my footsteps where they may.

I was halfway home when I saw the black vans pass me, and I stopped short, as a gigantic burst of what the voice in my head called "entropy" hit me.

Follow them?

Follow them.

I move behind a dumpster and emerge in my heroic outfit, only hidden by a cloak, and quickly leap onto a rooftop, lightening my weight so as to not leave a trace, and follow the vehicles.

Nobody bothers checking the rooftops, and my cloak is constantly changing into the colors of my surroundings, so I am functionally invisible in my pursuit.

What follows when I extend my senses to the interior of the van shocks even me.

"The girl will be at home in five minutes. Intercept her there."

"What about resistance or witnesses?"

"Eliminate them all. Boss' orders."

The blades on my arm extend on impulse.

Kidnapping kids and killing witnesses?

Not on my watch.

"Get ready to move in as soon as we get to the target point."

Coil's Mercenaries

It was supposed to be a routine mission: drive to a location, abduct the target, eliminate witnesses, and return to base with our objective.

But as soon as we stop at the objective, everything goes very wrong, very quickly.

Something flashes by the first van, and everything in it is sliced in one fell swoop.

Blood begins to pool inside the van as the first group of mercenaries are killed instantly.

We jump out and try to find the culprit, only to see an armored gray parahuman with a blade on its arm.

"Shoot it! Shoot the fucker!"

Our CO bellows orders, and we try to get into position, but the enemy is just too fast. The sunlight hits the blade and we are all blinded by the flash.

The last thing I see is my body, upside down, with no head.

Then I realize I have been decapitated.

This mission wasn't supposed to turn out like this—

Taylor

The neighbors have already emerged from their houses – they've seen me in action.

This wasn't just a bunch of goons, this was a goddamned PMC! Bulletproof armor, laser rifles, burned-off fingerprints based on the goon whose hand I cut off his corpse, three black vans, eight goons a van?

Very professional.

It didn't do my would-be hero reputation good if my identity as Obelisk was revealed as the one behind this carnage – thank goodness I still have the cloak on.

I stomped up to the house these goons were targeting, still in my cloak, and was about to knock on the door when it opened, and a girl of about nine or ten years old looked up at me.

"I knew you'd come for me!" she exclaimed, "the numbers don't lie."

I turned to where the cops were arriving and back at the child.

"Right," I reply.

"Come in, I'll explain," and I follow her within what is presumably her house.

The door closes behind me just as the sounds of sirens start coming closer and closer.

Dinah

In the infinite realms of possibility, I throw my powers onto the endlessly swirling cascade of fates and futures, and stake my claim on a single question, to see where it will lead me.

What is the possibility that this parahuman will harm me?

I am cast adrift momentarily, and I feel the sharp spikes of a migraine beginning.

My question is erroneous; I have to ask again, before my head begins to hurt more.

What is the possibility that this person will deliberately harm me right now?

The currents of fate begin to move according to my inquiry.

The chance of this person harming me is at five percent, and dropping slowly.

I lead my savior up the stairs, hiding the sudden surge of pain as I ask the question, and bring her into my room, her cloak keeping her invisible.

And as soon as I lock the door behind her, she emerges from the cloak. She's… underwhelming. For someone who just cut down twenty-four armed mercenaries and looked good doing it, she looks more like a teenage girl out of her depth than the confident heroine she was before.

"First things first," she asks. "Who are you, and why were those men after you?"

"My name is Dinah… Dinah Alcott. And I have special powers."

The girl's eyes dim for a moment before she nods.

"What kind of powers are we talking about here?"

"Numbers," I explain. "I ask a question and a percentage pops out. If I ask an inaccurate or vague question, my head begins to hurt."

This girl buys my explanation. "You didn't think of going to the PRT?"

"66% chance of being abducted if I revealed myself to the Protectorate," I reply.

"Chance that whoever tried this will try to abduct you again?"

I don't even have to pull on my power that much.

"Ninety-five percent."

The girl took a moment to think.

"Chance that your abduction attempt has something to do with the bank robbery happening right this instant?"

That's weird. There are lights in the images that guide me.

"Ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent."

It doesn't hurt as much.

"Chance that whoever is operating the Undersiders is also behind these group of mercenaries?" she asked with a malicious smile.

Is it the question?

"A hundred percent."

Or the person asking them?

"Hmm. Chance the Protectorate and the PRT is compromised?"

All her questions are lining up with the lights, guiding me to the possibilities.

"Eighty-five percent."

If my headaches come from forcing my way through fates and futures...

"Chance that the person operating the Undersiders and this PMC is also employed within the PRT?"

...then right now, I am sailing on a churning sea, with the stars above guiding me.

"Ninety-nine percent."

I notice the faint yellow glow surrounding my savior, extending from her body all the way to her cloak.

"There goes my simple introduction to Armsmaster," she says with a sigh. "And my apologies for not introducing myself... call me Obelisk. Final question: the chance that you will be abducted within the next three days?"

It feels... warm.

"Five percent," I reply, and oddly enough, I find that using my power does not hurt as much. "How do you know so much?"

Obelisk smiles at me.

"Trade secret. But I can and will find a way to see that you can either get help or help yourself. How does that sound?"

"Great! When can I meet you again?"

She waves her hand over her face and the helmet is worn again.

"When you least expect it."

"Dinah! Honey, are you in there?"

I turn to my parents' voices, and when I turn back, Obelisk is gone, leaving me alone in my room and waiting for the knock on the door.

I wonder when I can meet Obelisk again?

Taylor

I run across the rooftops at lightning speed, the revelations of this abduction attempt playing in my mind.

This wannabe Fu Manchu has some kind of ability that generates echoes of people, and he's using them with the Undersiders, this PMC, and if he managed to get his filthy hands on Dinah, he would be nearly impossible to stop, because he'd be prepared for any eventuality by asking the right questions.

I do not dare think what sort of measures this... person would resort to in order to get Dinah to cooperate. She's only a child.

The mercenaries were well-equipped and prepared to murder Dinah's parents if they resisted.

Or any witnesses.

Their disregard for life rose up and bit them on the ass when someone who could fight back and how entered the scene.

The sheer weight of the echoes they were carrying along with them as I sensed them pass by earlier makes me think that this Fu Manchu person is the one making these echoes, and I still don't know what they are.

Quickly, I make my way to an abandoned building, where I begin the next phase of unraveling this conspiracy.

"Rise and shine," I say, and the severed head opens its eyes.

He is about to scream in panic, but I cover his mouth with my face and shush him.

"I will let you die quietly and painlessly," I say to the severed head of one of the mercenaries, "after you answer a few questions. Nod for yes, shake for no."

The severed head nods carefully.

"Did you receive an equipment upgrade around mid to late March of this year?"

He nods.

"Very good," I say. "You're a half-breed, so you can't be Empire or ABB. PMC, so not the Merchants. No powers, so not a part of Faultline's crew or the Travelers."

Interesting. He's reacting to the Travelers.

"That just leaves one name."

He's sweating now. I take my head off his mouth.

"He'll kill me," he says. "He does it. Kills people who fail him."

"Thank you, but you are already dead, because your fear tells me more than you can ever say. As promised, I will make your passage to oblivion painless. Farewell."

With my powers, I put a hand on his head and he closes his eyes.

I turn to the outside of the building, where the sun is shining, and throw the head outside, where it is dissolved into ashes by the midmorning sun almost instantly.

As the breeze blows what remains of the mercenary away, I find myself feeling wistful. I never wanted to end lives like this. This wasn't what I signed for when I decided to become a hero.

Taking lives is never easy, my daughter. Even before today.

It still doesn't feel right.

This world is diseased, the voice tells me. This town is barely surviving because of the parahumans treating parts of it like their personal fief.

And would killing them solve everything? No, it would only bring more parahumans here. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss, so the song says.

I agree with you, my daughter. Maybe you do need to be a hero, to be something that inspires even these parahuman warlords to strive for something more, to be a part of something greater than themselves.

…but not me, I would want to be in the middle of it.

That's where we differ. Simply being part of something like that is enough reward for me.

Indeed. We have made much progress in divining one of the blights in this town you call home.

What should we do next?

Gather more information. You have managed to find the scents of the people you need to speak to, do you not?

I have. And we're going to have to use some more smoke and mirrors so we can turn this schemer's pawns against him.

I don the cloak and leave the building, my next destination well in hand.

Lisa

In hindsight, the bank robbery had been very, very close.

It was only when we were making our escape that I managed to put a name to the face of one of the clients of Brockton Bay Central who was there when we made our entrance: the independent superhero Panacea.

A fight did break out, but with the New Wave member part of the initial group of hostages Brian let go, it didn't go as bad as I thought: everything went according to plan.

We didn't escape unscathed, though. That bitch Shadow Stalker put another one in Brian, Alec has a mild concussion, and I think two of my teeth are loose from where I got a glancing hit from Aegis, that punk.

Still, after a night at Doctor Q's, we should be good to go. With the damage to my jaw fixed quickly and easily, I had Brian look after the rest of the team while I went topside and informed the boss of our success.

He didn't sound happy, but said he would look into delegating to other teams so that multiple tasks could be accomplished.

That was when a voice called to me behind my back.

"Hello, Lisa," the familiar voice said, and I felt my life flash before my eyes.

Taylor

"It's so good to see you!" I say out loud in a mock valley girl accent as I place my arm around Lisa's shoulder. "Like, I have no idea where you've been, but we have to make up for lost time! Come on."

"You knew we were going to the bank, weren't you?" Lisa whispers at me.

"Of course, girlfriend!" I reply, still wearing the valley girl accent before I drop it to a whisper. "You had something scheduled for Thursday. And knowing that you have a benefactor, well… you don't need to be a Thinker 12 to know that your little stunt was a diversion."

Thankfully, we are at the Boardwalk, and the people around us only see two girl friends walking together towards the nearest clothing store.

I carelessly move towards the lingerie section and grab several sets of underwear and a pair or two of swimsuits and drag the brains of the Undersiders' to a nearby changing room.

As soon as the room closes, I drop the facade.

"I already know who you're working for," I begin as I turn Lisa around and hand her a swimsuit. "And the circumstances that brought the Undersiders together."

"See, the problem I have is that the four of you are complicit in the attempted abduction of a twelve-year-old girl."

I see Lisa's horrified expression in the mirror.

"And not just any twelve-year-old girl," I add. "Dinah Alcott."

"...fuck."

"Exactly. This is the kind of asshole you're working for. But… I have another proposition. I can help you remove him and make the Undersiders truly independent."

She turns panicked eyes at me. "You wouldn't do such a thing out of the kindness of your heart," she replies.

"Not really," I say. "If this is just a game of cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, dungeons and dragons, I want to be the game master. Do you understand?"

Lisa nods, hesitating.

"And right now, if I want to be a hero, I need villains that will cooperate with me. No, the purple swimsuit is too revealing. Wear something with ruffles, your hips look bony."

I give her the white swimsuit with the ruffled skirt and the blue polka dots.

"You don't have to give me an answer immediately. Talk to your team and weigh your options over. Just remember that I can wait. Coil won't."

With that we leave the changing room, and I pay for Lisa's swimsuit.

"See you later, girlfriend," I say, and give her a playful smack on the butt before I disappear into the crowd of shoppers.

As I transform back to Taylor Hebert, I notice that there are no echoes in the shopping mall.

Rachel

Lisa called for a meeting as soon as she got back. We weren't in great shape, but were on the mend and good to go by the start of the next week.

"Okay, I have good news and bad news," Lisa announced.

"Bad news first," I say.

"That new parahuman we ran into? I think she wants to recruit us."

"That's the bad news?" Brian asked. "What's the good news?"

"She's gunning for Coil… our employer."

The room devolves into chaos.

It is only after they have all calmed down that Brian takes control of the situation.

"We're going to need a day or two to figure this out," he began. "Coil and that new parahuman are formidable. We'll need to know as much as we can before we commit to a decision."

I nod, everyone else follows, and life in our hideout returns to what passes for normal.

That's when Lisa shrieks in delight.

"I knew it!" she crowed, and when we went towards her, she unfolds the receipt of her swimsuit to reveal some sort of writing.

"possible temporal or probability related – t", Brian said, reading the note aloud.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm throwing my lot in with her," Lisa said.

Taylor

The rest of Thursday went by without a hitch. Dad asked me if I revealed myself as Obelisk during the thwarted kidnapping, but thanks to my cloak of invisibility, no one was able to make me out.

And here I am now on Friday, dozing through classes and dodging the Trio.

Except something takes place that surprises even me.

Halfway through second period, the bell rings before the school PA system bellows out loudly.

"Parahuman battle in progress within the immediate vicinity of Winslow High School. Evacuation procedures will commence. This is not a drill."

I pick up my bag and hide behind a few classmates before changing my appearance again, curious as to who these combatants are.

As we are escorted through the hallways by our teachers, I recall my father telling me not to engage in any parahuman related activities until we can go to the Rig and register properly as a superhero.

The cloak will definitely come in handy right now, I tell myself as I duck in a bathroom, pull on the cloak, and use another one of my new abilities to sense where the parahuman fight was taking place.

And not too far away from Winslow, I could begin to sense the presences in motion, except for one…

What in the world is that aberration?

You felt that one too, huh?

Parahumans have no such… aberrant powers. It also appears this aberration is contained.

I hear the gigantic crash later, and immediately move.

Not anymore.

It's loose. Fuck this.

Under the cloak, I summon my armor, and begin leaping to where the aberration is.

Chapter 1 - END

Author's notes:

What are Taylor's powers?

Taylor is essentially an Ultimate Being, as Asteroid Kars somehow hijacked the process that would have gotten Taylor to trigger with Queen Administrator. Now, Taylor has all of Kars' powers, and the Pillar Man's slowly awakening consciousness is seeing her as a daughter who will continue his pursuit of perfection.

She won't be able to use the full extent of her Ultimate Being powers, though – she'll have to work towards them gradually.

Her beginning power set is: changing her appearance, basic Hamon usage, and the use of the basic Light Blade (she can't use the light-based techniques yet, haven't worked on them).