Arc 1: Do or Do Not

A rage as vast as the ocean; as black as the gulf between the stars overtook me. The deeper I sank into this all-consuming hatred the more powerful I felt. It was as though my rage were power manifest. With it I could - a vision of a luminous red beam of death filled my vision. There was smoke, and soldiers desperately scrambling backward - away from me in stark terror. I advanced implacably. Every moment an eternity of gratification as I swung the blade in arcs too fast to track with the eye. Every stroke a body part. Every body part a pain-filled scream of terror. Every death I felt resonate deep down in my soul.

I awoke with a gasp as I hit the ground. I whipped my head around. The air felt unnaturally cool. I was trapped. I fumbled around in the dark. It took long seconds - far too long in my sleep-addled, half-catatonic-from-terror state - to find the cord and trace it to the switch on my bedside lamp. The light burst to life with warm incadescent strength. I spent minutes laying their on the floor, my heart slowing to a normal speed, my gaze taking in the familiar surroundings of my room. Even the lines and corners of the walls were a comfort in their familiarity. I am not a rage-filled cybernetic monster, I repeated inside my own head. I do not take satisfaction from dismembering people.

Once I felt I had the energy to stand on my own two legs, I disentangled myself from the comforters. The unnatural cool, I deduced, was from the incredible amount of sweat on my face, and my soaked-through comforter. I plodded to the bathroom and washed myself. I spent still more seconds staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were not wreathed in that sickly orange. I swallowed. I even touched the surface of the mirror and traced my outline just to try and get some reassurance.

This was the third nightmare in as many days. At first, I thought it was just a side effect of the locker - my mind twisting and warping what were already fantastical dreams into this nightmare-scape. But now, three nights in a row... this was more than coincidence.

My first thought was that someone was doing this to me - a cape, maybe? My second thought was that I couldn't even get a break even when I was supposed to be home convalescing. My third thought was that life was just so fucking unfair.

"Taylor?" My dad's concerned voice drifted in from the hall.

"Yeah?" I called back.

"Is everything okay?"

I held my breath for a moment as I pondered. Was everything okay? No, I decided. Everything was most definitely not okay. "Everything's fine, dad."

There was a pause before he finally said, "It's just you've been in there for half an hour."

Ah, I thought. That would do it. I hastily finished and stepped out of the bathroom. My dad was there, still sleepy-eyed, still balding, still scarecrow thin and looking as though Brockton Bay had sucked all the life from him.

"Fine," I said, pasting a smile onto my face. "See? I just dozed a bit while peeing."

He looked me over for a moment as if to make sure himself. The uncharitable part of me thought, he never noticed anything before so why should now be different? A flash of hatred roiled up from a bottomless well and threatened to drag me under. A vision of reaching out one hand and choking my dad to death. The fury and the fire came and went so quickly that I could have almost thought I imagined it - if it weren't for the bad dreams...

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you in the morning then, Taylor."

"Good night, dad."

"Good night."

I retreated to my room and sat on the bed. I held my hands out in front of me and studied them. They were both fully intact. One was not a cybernetic replacement. And yet, if I closed my eyes and squeezed one of them, I could almost feel the human skull of one of those rebel scum powdering under my indomitable grip.

Worn out, and definitely too tired to be reliving these horrors in my waking moments, I lay back down and shut off the light. But sleep did not come easily.

~~JH~~

I can't go back to Winslo, I thought. It was day six AL (After Locker). This thought had been rolling around in my head since I woke up at the hospital. I snuck a glance at dad, who was reading the Brockton Daily while eating his porridge.

And yet, every time I thought it, the knowledge that there were no other options pressed down even harder on me. I can't go back, but if I don't go back, I can't stay home. I longed for a transfer to Arcadia. I didn't want friends. I just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? A vision of decapitating Emma, her head bouncing off her locker door before rolling down the hall filled my mind's eye. The red beam of my light sabre so hot and powerful that it cauterized the jugular instantly. I imagined her eyes roaming around frantically for the few seconds of life before she expired. Part of me was horrified, but part of me wore the death of others like an old, familiar cloak.

I got to my feet and ran to the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and knelt over the toilet bowl. My arms were trembling - actually my whole body was trembling. My porridge came up and drooled slowly out of my mouth and into the toilet. It was hot and burned, and made me feel both dizzy and sweaty and shaky.

"Taylor!"

"I'm fine," I spluttered through the vomit. "Just a..." I spat the last of the goo out and leaned back. I closed my eyes. I didn't have the energy to come up with another excuse.

"I'm calling the doctor," said my dad.

I leapt to my feet, my hands on the counter for support. I washed my mouth out lightning quick and burst through the door and down the hall. "Stop!" I shouted.

"Dad seemed to be on the war path however. He was still dialling. I lunged forward and hit the button to kill the call.

"Taylor," he said sharply. "This isn't normal. You're barely sleeping. You can't keep food down. I'm not stupid."

"They're going to call me crazy," I said. I surprised myself with how calm and steady my voice was. "There's nothing physically wrong with me, so they'll assume it's mental. You're going to spend a lot of money forcing me to go to doctors, and the best case scenario is that they force you to spend even more money on prescriptions that are going to turn me into a drooling vegetable."

"I have a drug plan," he said. "The meds'll be covered until you're 18."

I pursed my lips. "It hasn't even been a week," I said, changing tactics. "Don't you think you're being a little alarmist? Of course I'm going to have nightmares. Of course I'm going to have trouble eating. I still remember the feel of being trapped... the smells... the bugs. I don't need to be fussed over by strangers. I need time."

"Oh, Taylor," said my dad, finally relenting. He put the receiver down and came over and hugged me.

Again a fury as fierce and as swift as a tornado swept through me. How dare this vermin touch me. I do not require the pity of a worthless insect. I shook those thoughts away, but could not relieve the stiffness from my return hug.

"Do you need more time off school?" he asked, pulling back and looking me square in the eyes.

This was it, I thought. I could be free of Winslow forever. If I just say yes, I could ween myself off school. Home school, maybe? That was a thing, wasn't it?

"No," I replied. Those bitches would not break me. Where that thought came from I did not know.

Dad could not stop the surprise from showing on his face. "No? Are you sure?"

"Same thing," I said. "If I take too long, no doubt the students, the school - they're going to start pointing fingers. Either they'll call me a truant or crazy or worse."

"How much worse could it be?"

"They could accuse me of being in a gang," I said.

Dad took a moment to digest this notion. It was a testament to how rattled he was that he didn't dismiss it outright.

"Why would they think you're in a gang?" he asked finally.

"Don't look at me like that," I said irritated. "You know I'm not in a gang. But I overheard your conversation with their lawyer. They tried to claim that I locked myself in my locker. Is being in a gang any weirder than that?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Good," I said. "It's settled then. Tomorrow I'll return to Winslow."

~~JH~~

I must have been smoking something to opt to return to this dump.

I'm not sure what happened in the past week, but it felt as if my perception of Winslow had been altered. Before, Winslow was a fact of life - a fixture as prevalent to my existence as breathing. I did not think about it. Now, I saw it in context. Winslow was a machine. It was created by the powers that be. Its function was to take the already vulnerable children of Brockton Bay and grind their potential down into dust. It fed its students to the gangs, to the whorehouses, to the dead-endn shit jobs that no one with a modicum of power in this city wanted. The thought I would willingly subject myself to this threatened to drown me in - I shook my head. It was getting easier to shrug off that phantom sensation of my other self - the darkm menacing, brooding cybernetic monstrosity. I was starting to understand him a little better. He was a volcano - all banked power, as immovable as a mountain but with an undercurrent of barelly contained explosive violence.

The moment I stepped in through the front doors, the whispers started. Actually, they probably started before I stepped in, but I only now was close enough to hear them.

"Holy - she's back-"

"What happened to her anyway?"

"Do you think she snapped?"

"Whatcha suppose Emma and her crowd're gonna do next?"

"-dunno - can't top the locker can they?"

I ignored them - barely. But all the self-control I had been practising was rapidly being thrown out the window. That rage monster - my dark half - was not in the least bit interested in tolerating this verbal assault. In a strange way, the notion that the creature lacked any kind of psycho-emotional restraint gave me some peace of mind. It was almost as if I could gain some distance from my own emotional pain by shunting it through him.

"Well, well, well," came Emma's sickly sweet voice. "Look at what the cat dragged in."

"Yeah, from the dumpster," said Clemens. She actually giggled at her own lousy joke.

Now I could see for the first time that Emma must have been waiting for me. The thought that she was actually going out of her way - wasting her time - on this... campaign - it gave me pause. I had never before had the presence of mind to cast myself in the mindset of others, and I realized, for the first time that, somehow, Emma had become terribly invested in these acts of aggression.

"-that's an insult to dumpsters everywhere. She's way worse than a dumpster."

"-she's probably got herpes-"

"Oh? You think she's a merchant whore maybe?"

"Like mother like daughter." That was Emma's contribution.

I stood there, as I always did. I surveyed my adversaries. They were too numerous to engage in combat, and they were doing that thing where they spoke to each other. It didn't matter, I thought. They wanted me to react. I needed to choose my battles more carefully. They thought they were masters at warfare. I would show them.

I brushed past Emma, just hard enough to let her know that I was prepared to get physical, but not enough to cause harm. I also made sure to walk away quickly enough to ensure that I did not spark an altercation that would actually lead to physical conflict. I would lose in that engagement too. Still, it was important to let Emma know that I was prepared to return fire. Already, I was beginning to formulate plans and contingencies. Their power over me stemmed from the fact that I feared reprisal from the school. I would not go out of my way to get myself in trouble with Blackwell, but I already began the process of relinquishing any attachment to the idea that I cared about suspensions or expulsions.

It was in the middle of math class that something truly weird happened. Mr. Henderson was showing us how to calculate distance, acceleration, time and velocity through various equations. I was working my way through the questions in a sort of daze. I already knew I was going to have to go home and redo all the answers once I had a chance to review the lessons I missed from last week. Julia, one of the bitches reached over to snatch my worksheet from my desk. My hand snapped out and caught her by the wrist. My thumbnail was already poised to stab into the soft flesh and pierce the vein before I realized what I'd done. Julia stared at me wide-eyed and squeaked.

I looked up, my hand still gripping hers. Mr. Henderson's gaze was drawn to us. He frowned and started over. "Miss Hebert, Julia, what seems to be the problem."

He's on a first name basis with her? How is that fair? I thought irritably.

"Taylor attacked me," Julia said promptly.

"She tried to steal my homework," I replied.

Henderson came over and looked down at the tableau. "Let her go please, Miss Hebert."

I released her, but I could not fully conceal the smile when I noticed her skin was already purpling where my thumb had pressed into her wrist.

"I was just checking to see if she needed help," said Julia in an aggrieved tone. "You know, because she skipped school for the whole of last week."

I tamped down on my emotions.

"I didn't ask for your help, and you didn't offer it," I replied.

But Mr. Henderson was no longer paying attention, and I realized belatedly that he was studying my worksheet.

"Miss Hebert, what is this?"

I looked down at the worksheet and stared blankly at the foreign script. It's Galactic Basic, you cretin, were the words that tried to leap off my tongue. But that would not go over well. "I was just...," I struggled to come up with something that would explain the incomprehensible scribbles before settling on, "...doodling."

"Miss Hebert," said Mr. Henderson with half-sympathy half-sternness, "You already missed a week. Doodling is the last thing you should be doing. Please pay attention to the lesson." He turned away. I sensed more than saw Julia open her mouth to say something, but it proved unnecessary, for Mr. Henderson continued, "And if you touch another student or make any gesture of a threatening manner, I'm going to have to report you to the principal."

The remainder of the lesson passed without further incident, but I could feel Julia's hooded gaze on me. She was going to tell Emma something, though what exactly I did not know. If her only concern was to relay the incident of physical violence, I did not care. But if she sensed that the script in my worksheet had some greater import... I could not let that take root.

This time, when the vision of Julia's corpse came to mind, I did not dismiss it immediately. It was only after I concluded that such an action was entirely unfeasible that I reluctantly let it go. I stared down at the script and studied it objectively. I had told Mr. Henderson that it was doodling. Julia would have heard me. Obviously Mr. Henderson did not care, for any competent observer would see that the lines and dots and curves had an order to it that did not conform with doodling. A competent observer, I decided, would conclude that it was in fact a language, or, at least, a simulacrum of a language. This opened up so many questions I did not quite know where to begin.

If called upon to answer questions about it, I could pretend it was a fictional language. I had heard of those - like something from a fantasy novel. But if pressed, I would not be able to provide further details, and my lie would fall apart. That would not matter. I doubted Emma or her cronies would probe that deeply. It was more if a person in authority asked questions. I envisioned a scenario where they told the police I was plotting to kill someone and these were my coded notes.

I put my books away and stepped out of class. If it came down to it, I could call it a cipher of my own creation, and simply translate from Basic to English. They would be quite amazed to discover that it was in fact answers to my high school math problems. But that still wasn't perfect. It would mean outing me in some way. It wasn't normal to construct an entire language. It had the hallmark of a cape phenomenon.

It was a testament to how stressful my life was that my first ten minutes pondering this development was to plan all the ways of making sure that Emma did not find a way to use this quirk to screw me over. Because I knew one thing for certain, and that was that I did not invent a cipher. Somehow, between last week and now, I had acquired knowledge of an entirely new language - one I was certain did not exist anywhere in the known world. It had to be connected to my dark half somehow.

If it were true that I had magically acquired knowledge of a language, I wondered if there was other knowledge that lurked within the depths of my mind that I had yet to unlock. After all, this could only mean that I was a cape - I dared to hope - the very feeling of hope was alien to me. It felt like something that had withered away long ago was blossoming anew, its delicate petals unfurling, and I was suddenly terrified that I would be proven wrong - that I would not in fact be a cape - and that I would experience a betrayal so terrible that I would be damaged forever more.

I saw Emma down the hall - she was waiting for me. I slowed and gazed down at my bookbag. If Julia told her about Math class... I debated turning around and running away, or simply walking right by her and skipping going to my locker altogether, but if I actively avoided Emma, it would only egg her on. And if she did report it to an authority figure - if she managed to convince someone to investigated -if someone concluded that I was a cape. No, I thought grimly. I had to make sure this stayed under wraps. At all cost. I stared down at my bag contemplatively.

It wrangled. Especially since I had resolved to fight back. But now things were different. Secrecy was paramount.

I picked up speed and went straight for my locker. Emma was a mere six feet away. She was surrounded by her friends, and had an air of bored indifference. I thumbed the dial on my lock until I set on the right combinations. The next thing I knew, I was pitching sideways. I hit the ground on all fours, but the force of it knocked the breath from me. My glasses skittered just past my reach, having landed next to Emma's boot. With what felt like prescience, I saw Emma's boot come down and crush my glasses under her heel a moment before it actually happened.

"Oops," said Emma in a falsely sweet voice. I slowly climbed to my feet. My shoulder ached. My palms were scraped where I hit the floor.

Sophia was suddenly there. She must have been the one to bodycheck me. She grabbed me by the shoulder. I expected her to drive me back down to the floor, but, surprisingly, she helped me up, albeit roughly. "No fighting in the halls, Hebert. Only your first day back and you're already causing trouble. Apologize."

"Apologize?" I said incredulously. sophia was smirking. "You broke my glasses."

"I totally did not," said Sophia heatedly. "You're a clutz. You broke your own glasses. If you hadn't gotten in my way."

She's trying to distract me, was the thought that zinged through my brain. I whirled around, and sure enough, Julia was there behind us. She was zipping shut my bag and was now walking it over to me.

"Here, Taylor," she said. "I was just helping you out. Even though you're a grade A bitch."

"You're calling me a bitch?" I said. I could already tell from the weight of the bag that at least one book was missing. Of course they'd have Julia rifle through my things. She knew what book to look for. But if I accused her, it would only be confirmation that I believed there was something worth hiding.

Even worse, I could see that she didn't have my workbook on her. They'd planned this well. No doubt she'd passed it off to - I glanced down the hall - whoever it was must have sprinted out of sight after Julia handed the book off to them. I flexed my hand. The urge to deliver apocalyptic vengeance upon these worms was overwhelming. But no, the book was gone. I had no proof. I did not even know who took it or where it was. They wouldn't throw it away, of course, but they would not make it easy for me to find them.

"Just leave me alone." I turned back to my locker. It's only proof that I created a cipher, I thought. It means nothing. I kept telling myself this. They would no doubt investigate to see if there was something there that could incriminate me.

No doubt my moment of resistance this morning had fueled their reprisal. Not that they needed fuel, but this was a little much - especially for the first day back from the last horrible prank.

I grabbed my things for the next class and soldiered on.

~~JH~~

It wasn't pretty, I decided, but it would do. Miraculously, Emma had only cracked the frame of my glasses. I just spent thirty minutes carefully taping the frames back together and affixing the lenses in place. It wasn't quite as firm as it was before, but so long as I didn't get into any fights, they should be fine.

It was Monday evening, and I had been home for about an hour after that nightmare of a school day. Four more of those until the weekend. Still, I felt energized. The thought that I might be a cape carried me through the rest of the day.

I sat down on my bed with a notepad. Here was my first test. If I learned a language by magic, then I probably was a thinker. At least, that's how I thought these things worked. Surely there would have to be other things that I knew that were more useful. Usually thinkers were able to pull information out of thin air. I let my mind wander. I relaxed my fingers and tried to meditate.

I had never tried meditating before. There was one time when I was young - Emma and I tried putting each other into a hypnotic trance. It hadn't worked then, and I had instinctively discarded the whole field as a useless bunch of new age nonsense. Even now, I mostly assumed that all I would accomplish was falling asleep. I recalled that partially dozy state from the morning's Math class. I had been aware of what I was doing, but half my mind had been elsewhere to. It was like I was thinking of two different things simultaneously. Slowly, inexorably, my grip on my pen and notepad loosened, and the muscles around my jaw became relaxed. It felt as though I was slipping into a warm stream. The deeper I sank, the more it became harder to distinguish where I ended and the rest of the world began.

An image bloomed in my mind's eye. Emma was in a coffee shop. Sophia was with her. They were huddled over my workbook, lattes and espressos half-finished next to them. Sophia asked Emma a question to which Emma merely shook her head. However, I could not hear the words. I pushed harder at the image to try to tease sound out of it, but the image blurred. There was a tugging sensation, and then the image resolved into a night-time scene. The wind nipped icily. A man was lying in a pool of blood, a masked figure holding a crossbow standing over him. My heart jumped as I recognized Shadowstalker from before she was a ward. The image blurred once more, and I was staring down at Shadow Stalker once more. She was kneeling in supplication? Defeat? Armsmaster was there and a cord was wrapped around her.

The scenes bounced from one to the next with no order or cohesion. I did not know if I was looking at the past or the future or the present - if I was looking at fantasy or reality. The final scene settled on me in the darkened halls of Winslow. It was night. The only illumination was the octinic glare of lightning which streamed from my hands. Shadowstalker was writhing in agony near me, smoke rising from her cooking flesh. My eyes were a sickly yellow.

The slamming of the door downstairs jerked me from my trance.

"Taylor?" That was my dad.

I checked the clock on my bedside table. It was 6:30 already. I leapt out of bed, the notebook and pen tumbling carelessly to the floor. I hadn't even started dinner.

"Taylor!" Now there was a note of worry in his voice.

"Coming!" I shouted as I pounded down the steps. A second later I was in the front hall and slamming into my dad. I hugged him with enough force to squeeze the stuffing out of him.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Easy there. You're bending my ribs."

"I'm sorry about dinner," I said, pulling back. "It was a bit of a rough day, and I lost track of time. I came home and just needed some rest."

"S'okay," he said, smoothing out my hair. "I figured as much." He nudged a paper bag in my direction, and I suddenly realized that the smell of pizza was filling the hallway.

"Thanks," I said, and was surprised to discover that I meant it. It was thoughtful of him, and rather astute. Even if he didn't know that I came home and lost track of time rushing to examine my strange cape powers, he had still sensed that I was in distress and anticipated that I wouldn't be in a state to cook.

I took the pizza boxes to the kitchen and began setting the table.

"Mushroom and anchovies," I said, smiling. "Thanks."

"That's not all," he said, pulling out a DVD. "I picked up one of those Earth Aleph blockbusters you're so fond of. We'll take our pizza to the living room and watch some television, yeah?"

I peered at the title: Mission Impossible. "Sounds perfect."

The movie was brain junk food. It had a suitable number of explosions, and both the protagonist and antagonist belted out anguished screams of rage and despair at appropriate times until, in the final climactic sequence, the antagonist was tossed from a great height and sent plummeting to his doom.

Sated and relaxed, I snuggled down under a blanket. Dad looked relaxed too, but I could see a sort of pensive look on his face. I imagined him struggling with whether to ask me how my day went. On the one hand, it was a fatherly thing to do. He had a right and an obligation to ask. But on the other hand, it would threaten the tranquility of the moment.

"It was okay, dad," I said suddenly. The feel of the silence breaking was jarring, but I persevered. "School, I mean. The bullies were there, and they hassled me a bit. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

He digested my words. "I'd like to make an appointment to see your principal. I'd like to hear what they're going to do to make sure that this doesn't happen again."

My gut instinct was to refuse. Getting the adults involved wasn't going to help me. It'd never helped me before. Deep down though, I knew that that wasn't the real reason. I didn't want any attention drawn to me. I had a secret, and slowly my biggest fear was becoming that someone would find out about it. It was mine, and I felt a jealous, irrational urge to hold onto it. At least... until I was ready. But the thought struck me that, strategically, it was better to let dad have his moment of sound and fury. That would do more to misdirect people's attention; especially in light of the strange Math class incident.

The image of Emma pouring over my workbook returned to me. She was really invested in me for some reason. Either she craved the feelings that cutting me down brought or she was searching for something. The former seemed to be the easier answer, but the thought of her spending time in a coffee shop studying Galactic Basic - it didn't fit. It was too much energy for someone who wanted to feel big by picking on someone else. There was the rub. I needed to deflect her attention away from me. Letting my dad take point would do that. It would reaffirm to her and Sophia that I was a nobody who needed to hide behind daddy when the going got tough. I couldn't help but sneer. I never even had a dad. I shook that thought away. Of course I had a dad...

When I finally returned to the present, I saw my dad was studying me with an assessing gaze.

"Okay," I said simply. "Do I need to be there?"

"I'm not sure," he said. He seemed to mull it over before saying, "It might be best if you were not. There are things I can say when you're not in the room that I could not if you are present."

That statement was puzzling and offensive. Did he think that I couldn't handle the truth? Was he going to use profanity? I was just about to object, or possibly ask for clarification, when the knowledge seemed to float up from the recesses of my dark half. In a negotiation, it is useful to be able to make statements about the aggrieved party that are indefensible by virtue of the fact that the party is not present to answer questions.

My dad was watching me as I opened my mouth and then shut it.

"Also, the school's lawyers are offering to pay for your medical bills," he said. "They are refusing to pay for anything else."

It was my turn to digest this bit of information. That was... disappointing. Hell, it was infuriating. The worst part was that my dad was only bringing it up because he was seriously considering accepting their offer.

He went on, "I spoke to a lawyer. She said that the problem was that a lawsuit to recover damages would likely succeed, but that it could be potentially years before we actually saw any of that money. She also mentioned that, while your situation was bad, so many people are injured due to cape fights that people are desensitized to violence - even violence against teens."

"I get it," I said. My good mood was evaporating quickly, and part of me resented dad for even bringing this stuff up. "I wish we could get some extra money, but I was never holding my breath for it. If you want to take a settlement, it's fine with me."

He nodded. "I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," I said, and it was mostly fine, I decided. The locker was horrible, and I couldn't say I was grateful for it, but the fact I had powers was going a long way in cooling my heels. It was going to put me on track to making something of myself... so long as no one found out.

~~JH~~

Emma threw Taylor's workbook in the garbage. She'd debated maybe doing something with it, but decided it would look like she was trying too hard. After all, it was just a workbook. Apparently a workbook with weird scribbles. She and Sophia had poured over it, and had concluded that it was likely a code of some kind. But why Taylor was encoding her own notes - in her schoolbook was a complete mystery.

"Come on," said Sophia. "I gotta get to You-Know_Where."

"Yeah," she said. "What a waste."

"Not totally," said Sophia thoughtfully. "You know what a trigger event is?"

Emma rolled her eyes as they stepped out into the frigid January air. She pulled her coat around her more tightly. "Obviously. I'm not a complete retard."

Sophia snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the locker thing... could've been a trigger."

"You think Taylor might be a cape?"

"Maybe." Sophia furrowed her brow in thought. "Triggers are supposed to be the worst day of your life. Taylor's such a dweeb that getting stuffed in her locker probably counts."

"Don't they say that Glory Girl got her powers when she was fouled on the basketball court?" Emma asked.

Sophia nodded. "Exactly. So the locker thing could've made her trigger."

"And her power is what? Scribbling gibberish?"

"She'd have to be a thinker of some kind. Cryptography, maybe? Maybe she's good at something that we just don't understand."

Emma sighed in frustration. That'd been the premise that had provoked them to steal her stupid book and spend two hours puzzling over it. Emma wouldn't have even thought to do it except that Taylor had acted weird in the morning. Taylor had always tried to ignore Emma and her taunts - that'd been part of the fun - just watching Taylor's expressive face display the full range of her emotions even as she tried pathetically to effect an air of nonchalance. It was everything Emma had hated in herself; everything she was determined to crush out of her former friend.

But this morning, Taylor had looked - not indifferent - there was still a reaction. It was just that Taylor had seemed angry... irritated... contemptuous. And then she'd done something she'd never done before - she'd bodychecked Emma. It hadn't been a serious hit, but it had the weight of decisiveness behind it. This was not the actions of a Taylor who was testing her chains. This was a Taylor who had already broken free. So when Sophia suggested that Taylor might have become a cape, Emma didn't dismiss it out of hand as she might have otherwise done.

"How do we find out?" Emma asked.

"Push her," said Sophia. "Then you'll know. The problem is, if she's a thinker, it won't be as obvious as if she was a brute. Then you'd expect to have your face caved in."

"My face caved in?" Emma asked, wide-eyed. "That - she wouldn't."

"No, 'cause she ain't a brute," said Sophia. "But see, the problem is that, in some ways, thinkers are worse. They can mess with you in other ways."

Emma thought about it. "So if we push her to try to reveal her powers, she might retaliate."

Sophia nodded grimly.

"But she'd retaliate anyway just because of what we've done to her in the past."

"Maybe," said Sophia. They were just coming up to the edge of the Boardwalk, where they would have to part ways. "Some capes get revenge, but it's usually in the heat of the moment. Most of them, when they've cooled off, they just want to put their past life behind them, you know?"

Emma considered this. "I get it. Like me."

Sophia smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Exactly."

But I didn't get powers, Emma thought, and a pang of misery struck her as it had done so many times before when the thought crossed her mind.

Soon Sophia was gone, and Emma trudged home on her own. The walk was not particularly far, and it was through a good part of town, and it was still daylight out. Still, whenever she was alone and outdoors, there was always a feeling of vulnerability. She hated that feeling. It made her itch to have Taylor nearby, to cut her down. Truth be told, it was in these moments that she came up with her most inspired barbs, her cruelest words, her most daring plans to humiliate Taylor.

Taylor... a cape. In a sense, Sophia was telling Emma to back off from Taylor. Unconsciously, Emma found herself shaking her head. She couldn't do that. She knew intellectually that she and Taylor could never be friends again. Emma had done too much to her. She could even admit that the deranged, abusive relationship she had formed with Taylor was not really healthy. She just couldn't help it. She needed Taylor. She needed her to be there.

No, she thought. I can't let go of Taylor Hebert. And if she felt a certain premonition of ill fortune from the course she was setting for herself, she set it aside and told herself it was just the winter chill and nothing more.

~~JH~~

I held out my hands just as I had seen in my vision. I willed with all my might for lightning to lash out and incinerate the empty soda can I had placed on the workbench in the basement. Nothing happened. Sighing, I took a seat and stared at the bare concrete floor.

It was Saturday now, and I had spent the last five days obsessively entering into a meditative trance and subjecting myself to these strange visions. In the beginning, I had tried writing down what I was seeing, but soon gave it up as a bad job. The visions tended to flit from scene to scene, and there was very little information to be gleaned from them. I still didn't know if they were the past, present, the future, or some alternative reality. For all I knew, they were figments of my imagination. No, I thought firmly. They're not figments. They had too much the feel of visions. They were something special. The only problem was that harnessing their potential was proving to be... problematic. The harder I tried to focus on a given scene, the quicker it slipped from my grasp. It was like trying to grip water.

I perked up at that last thought. Maybe I was going about it all wrong. Maybe I needed to coax the visions. I'd been trying to control them... but maybe I needed to be like a birdwatcher - still and calm and silent. Maybe my emotions were the thing getting in the way. Maybe when I got excited, it disturbed whatever energy let me tap into the visions.

That last thought felt strange, but also felt like it had the ring of truth. Some of the visions showed me fighting, and sometimes I was casting blue lightning and other times green lightning. Sometimes I had a light sabre and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I had waves of rage rolling off me and other times I was as calm as a glacier. All I knew was that, if the visions were to be taken to be real, then it meant that I could do more than just have visions. It meant that I could see futures, and it meant that I could blast and move... It all sounded too good to be true.

I had never heard of other capes having difficulties understanding their power. I spent an afternoon at the library researching the very issue. Capes who talked about it reported that they seemed to just know how their power worked. It was frustrating, but I was committed to figuring this out.

I was starting to think that my power wasn't visions specifically, but rather I was tapping into this energy stream. Somehow, I could bend this stream to my will, and the stream let me do a bunch of different things... like the visions. I began practising with renewed vigor.

~~JH~~

It was next Wednesday 16 days AL, when something weird happened. I had been practising submerging myself in the energy stream so religiously that it was becoming easier and easier to do so. It was coming to the point that I could tap into the stream casually - even while I was at school. It still meant that I was a little distracted. The bitches didn't hesitate to try to use this against me - "Drugs, Taylor?" Occasionally, I thought I saw Sophia giving me speculative glances.

It was in the middle of gym class that it happened. We were being subjected to a round of Dodgeball, which meant open season on Taylor Hebert, as far as the class was concerned. Anyone who wanted to score points with the Queen B was looking for a good hit. The girls went at it with relish, but the boys were a little more circumspect. That was cold comfort, since Sophia was quick and ruthless and struck hard.

There had been occasions in the past when I had let myself be hit, and could duck out of the game early. That tended to lead to more jeers - no doubt retribution for robbing my bullies of their fun. Today though, it felt like I was on fire. Emma tossed the ball hard in my direction. I ducked, and felt the air from the ball swish my hair as it arced a hair's breadth overhead. Six seconds later, Trina, a distant hanger-on, tossed the ball in my direction. I angled my body sideways in the nick of time, again letting the ball eek by me. This happened two more times before others started to notice.

Someone tried to throw the ball at my ankles from behind. I didn't see the ball. I didn't hear it. I just closed my eyes and jumped. The ball skipped past me and tagged Greg. The ball rolled off to one side. There were still three other balls in play, so most of the class was too busy to notice, but the people around me stopped and stared. When I opened my eyes, I stared back. It took me a second for my brain to follow the train of thought.

The teacher came over and said, "Excellent show, Miss Hebert. Withmoves like that , you might consider joining the gymnastics team."

"Uh, thanks."

"Delyla, please go pick up the ball. We still have five minutes left."

The game resumed, but my mind was still on the last jump. It was only now, as the tension left me, that I realized I had been gently tugging on the - I still didn't have a good name for it - the entire time. I forced myself to let it go. Immediately, I felt a subtle sluggishness creep over me. Muscles that hadn't ached before were now piping up. I could no longer track the motion of the ball with the same ease; could no longer move with the same grace to avoid it. Before I knew what was happening, the ball whipped toward me at high speed and struck me on the head. There was so much force that I went sprawling to the floor. My ears were ringing, and my head was pounding. I stared at the red arc of the 3-point line for a second before rolling over. Sophia was smirking at me in a way that told me she was the one that had thrown the ball hard enough to injure me. I cast aside that old familiar anger, and picked myself up.

"Seems your luck ran out, Hebert," said Sophia casually as I limped past her.

"Fuck you, Hess," I muttered. She gave me a hard push that threatened to send me sprawling again.

I made my way to the benches and watched as the game wound up. It was hardly a surprise that both Sophia and Emma were in the last five. Emma got tagged. Sophia and another boy duked it out for the final show, with Sophia tagging him seconds before the bell rang.

I was about to trudge into the locker room, when the teacher pulled me aside. "Looks like you got a nasty bruise there," she said. "Go to the nurse's office first, and then you can come back and wash up."

I sighed and nodded. "Yes, Ms. Harder."

While I sat in the nurse's office being fussed over, I pondered the Dodgebal game. That hadn't been luck, I thought. I reached for the force once more and gently touched it. There was a cool wash of relief. It was subtle, but now that I was looking for it, I could tell that it wasn't merely a figment of my imagination. The energy really was soothing my aches. I played with the force for a bit, testing it this way and that. I managed to tune the force so that the headache vanished. I barely even felt the bruise.

"Hmm," said the nurse. "It must not have been as severe as I thought. The bruising is almost gone. Are you feeling any dizziness? Nausea? Sensitivity to light?"

"I shook my head to all the questions. I didn't want to remain there longer than I had to.

Seeming satisfied that I didn't have a concussion, the nurse shooed me away. The halls were quiet. The mad rush to leave school had come and gone. There were a few guys at the far end - that was the E88 corner, and I swerved to avoid them. I didn't know what they were hanging around at school for, and I didn't want to find out. Or did I? I was a cape now. Spying on gang members, beating them up - that was what I was destined for.

I shook my head. It was way too early to be thinking of that. Even though, deep down, I longed to go out and be a superhero, I knew I was nowhere near ready. I just found out I was a mover and maybe even a regenerator and some kind of thinker. But still, my powers were so minor that I wouldn't be able to even prove I was a parahuman. I could only hope that my powers would become more impressive in time. This was something I not only hoped for, but believed in. When I submerged myself in the stream-force-thing, it felt as though it was an endless reservoir of potential. Today, I had barely drawn on it at all. What would happen if I could take it all in at once? Was that even possible? I was determined to find out. And quickly. The students who saw me would pass it off as a fluke - Sophia had helped in that regard, I had to grudgingly admit that. Somehow though, I didn't think that either Sophia or Emma would be fooled. They'd be watching me even harder now.

As I changed in the locker, I realized that they might even start testing me.

"Nice game."

I whirled around to come face to face with Sophia. I hadn't even heard her come in - had she been waiting here for me all this time?

"Yeah," I said slowly, my mind racing. I mustn't give anything away.

"Nice moves."

I shrugged and finished putting on my clothes. Normally I would have showered, but it was getting late, and the only thing left to do was to go home. "I guess."

"You learn a martial art or something?"

I snorted. "When would I do that?" I hurried to get my clothes on and get out of there. Sophia was fishing. Attack, whispered a voice in my head. "What do you care anyway? Scared I'm gonna smack you down?" I said.

"As if," said Sophia. "I just wanted to know if maybe you've decided to grow a pair."

"Fuck off," I said, sneering. "You're a pathetic loser who needs to pick on others to feel big about yourself." I headed for the door, but Sophia was suddenly there, blocking my way.

Instinctively, I reached out for the force. My whole body was suddenly thrumming with tension though whether it was from the energy filling me or the anticipation of violence, or both, I didn't know.

"Big words," said Sophia. There was something dangerous in her expression. her eyes seemed to glitter. She was looking for a fight. She was excited.

"You're a psycho, you know that?" I said, forcibly calming myself. My bloodlust was up too, and I knew it was a bad thing. If we fought, not only would I risk outing myself, but I would lose. Sophia was strong and fast, and she had the administration on her side. I would lose in every way. I'd get beat up. The administration would probably suspend me. My dad would be disappointed.

"You're a pathetic loser, Hebert. Everyone can see it but you. I'm amazed you came back to Winslow." She looked me over with an assessing gaze.

"Get out of my way."

"Make me."

"Seriously?" I asked. "You want to get in a fight here?"

"It won't be much of a fight."

"Take your best shot then," I replied. "I have a reason to be here, Hess. You don't. You can't hide behind Blackwell's coattails forever."

This last statement actually got a reaction. Sophia looked murderous for a moment, and I was sure violence was about to erupt. But then the moment passed and Sophia stepped away from the door.

"Go on then, run like the little bitch you are."

There'll come a time, I thought, when I'm going to make you eat those words. But that day wasn't today. I left.

As I waited for the bus to go home, I let my grip on the force ease. The encounter with Sophia had been odd. It still wasn't clear to me if Sophia thought I was a cape. If she did, why would she antagonize me like that? If Ihad powers, she ought to know better, unless she was so convinced I wouldn't fight back that she had confidence to threaten me even if I was a ccape. In a way, it reminded me again just how committed they were to making my life miserable. Sophia had basically wasted like thirty minutes waiting for me to show up in the locker room to have that private chat. She must have wanted it to be private. It was the first time she'd ever done something like that. Sophia was the sort that only bothered with crimes of opportunity.

In a way, I suppose I could see it as flattering that she'd committed so much time to have that conversation. There'd always been something about Sophia -a swagger - a confidence - that I'd never seen in anyone else. She acted as though she wasn't afraid of even the gangs - not even Empire 88. It felt like there was a realization just beyond the periphery of my senses - if I could only reach out and grasp it...

~~JH~~

"Hey, kiddo," dad said, throwing his jacket over the sofa. "Smells good."

I dished up the spaghetti onto plates and set the table. "It's just pasta, dad."

"It's pasta made by my loving daughter." He sat down and began eating.

I took a seat across from him and followed suit.

"I met with Principal Blackwell today," he said. "That's why I was a little late coming home."

I nodded. This was not unexpected.

"She basically said she can't do much."

This wasn't a surprise. I had stopped expecting others to solve my problems for me. Still, it hurt not only because of Blackwell, but because of the thin hope that my dad could have done something.

"She recognizes that the locker incident was at least a traumatic incident," he went on. "She's willing to recommend you to Arcadia. The only problem is that Arcadia has academic admissions standards that you do not meet."

I was about to protest when my dad raised a hand.

"I explained that your grades are a result of the bullying campaign. However, Blackwell needs more than my word. She is willing to let you write equivalency tests in the four core subjects of science, math, social studies, and english. If you can achieve an average of 3.7 across the 4 subjects, you'll be transferred immediately to Arcadia."

I took a deep breath. It wasn't punishment for the bitches, but it was in some ways even better. Still, four equivalency tests... "When would I be expected to write these tests?"

"Whenever you're ready," Dad said. "The transfer to Arcadia can occur inside of a week."

"If I don't make the grade to get into Arcadia, will the test scores at least count to my overall grade at Winslow?"

"I didn't ask her that," he admitted. "I'm sorry. I should have."

"S'okay," I mumbled, thinking. I didn't know if it was worth the bother. My instinct was to decline. However, something was egging me on. At first, I thought it was stubbornness, but as I felt my way through the emotions, I came to realize with slowly dawning astonishment that the sense of anticipation was coming from the force. I studied the feelings intensely - yes - the force was urging me to accept the Arcadia challenge. I was about to agree, but hesitated. Just because my power wanted me to go wasn't actually a reason to do it. But still, this could be some form of precognition - a power to guide me to the better result - I never heard of cape powers steering people wrong. "Okay," I said finally before I could second guess myself any further. "I'll take the test."

~~JH~~

I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I'd had to spend the last 3 days studying like mad. The only thing keeping me up was the force. I was alone on a Monday afternoon. Students were having detention in a neighbouring class. Mr. Gladley was supposed to check up on me every twenty minutes or so. I pulled the cap off my pen and got to work.

"Describe six causes of the collapse of the USSR," I muttered. I put pen to paper and began writing down the answer. I had to make a conscious effort to keep from reverting to Aurebesh. Despite that, the force lent me the power to deliver smooth, sure pen strokes. My brain worked faster, I remembered more things more clearly, and analyzed the information logically. Even better, when it came to multiple choice, I got the distinct impression that my power was jumping me to the right answer without me actually having to do the work. They had given me two hours to do the test, but when I looked up at the clock, only 75 minutes had passed. If I told Mr. Gladley that I was done, he would no doubt be suspicious - especially since he hadn't been in the room with me the entire time - so there could have been a means of cheating - if I had been bothered to try to come up with one.

I re-read my answers carefully, but found that there was not even a typo that needed correction. Not only that, but my handwriting had somehow improved... My power included super-handwriting. I had to giggle at the image of using super-handwriting powers to try to fight Lung.

"Everything good in here?" Gladley was poking his head through the door.

I looked up at the clock. Twenty minutes left. That was probably good enough. "I think I'm done," I said. I put my pen down.

Gladley glanced at the clock and seemed to do the mental arithmetic I expected of him. He seemed to be satisfied that it was reasonable for me to have finished by now. "Are you sure you don't want a bit more time to go over your answers?"

I hesitated. If I gave him the impression I already looked over the answers, he would be suspicious.

"I was just doing that," I said. "I thought maybe you wanted to leve early. I don't want to keep you here unnecessarily... Mr. G."

He beamed at me. "It's no problem, Taylor. Take your time. I'll come back in twenty minutes. I will have to insist that I can't let you have extra time though."

"No problem, Mr. G," I said, smiling in a half-placating, half-sycophantic way that I'd seen Madison do a million times before. Gladley ate it up and left. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished, and I scowled. Another twenty minutes of twiddling my thumbs.

Ah well, I thought. I slipped more deeply into the force. These days, my connection to the force was always open. I was almost always tapping into it to some degree. It was still impossible to fully immerse myself without due preparation, but I felt that the day was coming when I would have enough grasp of it to begin doing truly extraordinary things. The visions had shown me events both wondrous and terrifying. Of them, it showed me leaping fifty feet into the air. It showed me casting lightning from my fingertips. It also showed me levitating objects, and, in one horrifying instance, choking a man to death.

I reached out with the force, trying to project it from the ethereal mental landscape to the physical world. I tried not to let the frustration get to me. Learning to use my power was 99% stumbling around in the dark and 1% partial successes. The idea that weeks had gone by and I still could barely even do anything capeworthy was frustrating. A part of me couldn't help but feel that maybe Emma was right - I really was so useless I couldn't even get being a cape right.

I forced myself to calm down, to relax. Trying to grab the force as though it were a ball had never worked. I learned that lesson with my visions. Instead, I immersed myself in it and tried to expand outward. This time, I didn't try to expand the force outward. I didn't try to bend it. Rather I expanded myself outward, as though the force and I were one. Instead of causing things to levitate, something else extraordinary happened. I felt ripples in the stream - in my consciousness. At first it was just a few, but, as my awareness continued to expand, dozens filled my sense. I focused on the one nearest to me. There were a stirring of thoughts and feelings. I continued to examine it, and was startled when it began to move. I followed it. It was ahead of me, but turning a corner and approaching...

"Taylor?"

I looked up, startled. Mr. Gladley was back in the doorway. Oh. My. God. I felt nearly catatonic with the realization that I was sensing Mr. Gladley. But I wasn't just sensing his presence - had I been inside his mind? Even now, the connection lingered, and I could feel his concern/impatience at me.

"Fine," I managed. "I'm done, Mr. G."

"Okay," he said, and the relief in his tone was echoed through my power. He really hated confrontation. He was bullied as a teenager. He doesn't like what's happening to me and hates himself a little bit for not having the guts to stop what's happening to me.

Whoa, I thought, shuttting off the connection. I sneaked a peek at him, but if my intrusion into his mind affected him in any way, he didn't show it.

"Okay," he said cheerily. "You're free to go. Mrs. Reese will be monitoring you for tomorrow's exam."

"When do I get to know how I did?" I asked, gesturing at the papers.

He looked down at her work. "Once I'm done grading this, I'll be handing it over to Principal Blackwell for final review and she'll be responsible for discussing your results with you." He paused, and I sensed his indecision and guilt war with his desire to leave. Finally, he added, "I really hope this works out for you, Taylor. I hope you get that transfer and that you'll thrive at Arcadia."

"Me too," I said. "I studied really hard these past few days." And then, deciding it couldn't hurt to grease the wheels, "And I want to thank you for being such a good teacher, Mr. G. Despite everything, I lerned a lot from you this year."

He smiled, and I could feel both a sense of pride for me as well as his own guilt surge. "You're a good kid, Taylor. I'll see you next class."

I sat back in my chair and followed him with my mind as he left the building. His signature faded gradually from my senses as he drove No, that wasn't right. His signature was still there, but it was becoming harder to distinguish amidst all the other signatures - all the other people. I was growing giddy with excitement. If I could refine this ability, it would make me a devastating thinker. I imagined following supervillains back to their lair. I remembered one of my first visions - that of Shadowstalker. Maybe my power was telling me that I could be a bad ass cape like her.

~~JH~~

I took to obsessively stalking Emma with my mind. This was especially so since, over the next few days, I felt a growing sense of malevolent anticipation. she was gearing up for something big. It was on Friday afternoon, when I felt her at the other end of the school - that was Principal Blackwell's office, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. I couldn't tell if I was being paranoid, or if my power was warning me that trouble was descending upon me. All I knew is that I was standing even before the door opened.

"Miss Hebert is supposed to report to the principal's office."

"Someone at the back of the class made an oohing noise, and someone else snicggered. I grabbed my things and stormed out. I could feel Blackwell's concern, frustration, and exhaustion. She was not looking forward to this anymore than I was.

"Let me guess," I said, throwing the door open, "Someone is claiming I cheated on those tests."

"I'm afraid it's more than just a claim," said Blackwell wearily. "Some of your answers were right out of the textbook. There's no way you could have regurgitated the answers verbatim."

"I studied," I said, enunciating the word with as much force as I could. Blackwell was a whirl of emotions, but she was gathering herself to fortify her resolve. I reached out angrily at her mind and stabbed at it. I had never done this before. I had always been cautious about not interfering with someone's mental presence.. I didn't know what it would do. I didn't know if I would hurt them, or irreparably damage them, or do something that would cause them to think they had been the subject of a parahuman attack. That way lay the birdcage. But this time, I couldn't help it.

Blackwell visibly reeled. Her gaze lost focus. She lost her train of thought, and she required seconds to compose herself. "I'm sorry," she went on. "I can't send these test scores off to Arcadia. In fact, I'm going to be putting a disciplinary note in your file."

Furious, I reached out and squeezed Blackwell's mind. "No, you won't," I said, and the glacial tone of my voice startled even me. "You'll forward the results on to Arcadia, and you'll recommend me for the transfer."

Blackwell's gaze glazed over even further. "I'll forward your test results to Arcadia," she said in a monotone. "And I'll recommend you for the transfer."

It was my turn to reel back. I stared, wide-eyed at Blackwell as she regained her senses.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Why were you here? Oh yes," she looked down. "I have your test results. Taylor, congratulations. You scored a 4.0. Between your outstanding test scores and my personal recommendation, you'll be attending Arcadia in no time." She frowned, and I could see that she was looking at a note appended to the corner of my Math exam.

"That's nothing," I said. "It's just a bit of scrap paper. Hand it over, please."

I held my breath. If that didn't work... but Blackwell was unclipping the note and handing it over. I gave it a cursory glance. It was a note from Mrs. Reese that there was evidence of plaigiarism on my English test. I crumpled it up and stuffed it in my back pocket.

"Was there anything else?" Blackwell asked. She only now seemed to be coming to her senses.

"No," I said. "May I be excused?"

"Of course."

I left and sprinted down the hall. I didn't stop until I was tucked away in one of the stalls in the girl's bathroom on the third floor. I just did that, I thought in a state of numbshock. That was a thing.

I was a master.

I stared down at my hands. The act of mastering Blackwell didn't bother me exactly. It felt strange, but it didn't seem as though I had done permanent damage. She hadn't fallen in love with me the way people did with Heartbreaker. Still, if anyone found about it - I had crossed a line as far as the PRT and the Protectorate were concerned. It was like that singer who was on trial - the bird girl. I'd have to be very careful with that power. Fortunately, I apparently had so many powers to choose from, no one would even have reason to think I could master people. But if Blacckwell realized... or if someone else realized. What if Mrs. Reese' talks to her about the plaigiarism? I forced myself to relax. There was nothing I could do about it now. Not unless I went and mastered Mrs. Reese. But that wouldn't solve the problem. Somewhere in the process Emma was involved. Emma was waiting and watching to see me fall,and if I didn't, she would intercede again. Emma was the one I needed to deal with.

She was determined to keep me here, to hold onto me, to drag me down into the muck with her and the rest of her losers. In that moment, I honestly considered killing her. I could do it. No one would know. And even if they suspected, I could master them, redirect their suspicion onto someone else - someone like Sophia. They would deserve it - the both of them.

I shook my head slowly. I wasn't going to kill Emma. As much of a bitch as she was, I wasn't going to sink to her level. I just needed to escape Winslow, and then these problems would be behind me. Even Emma would have to let me go eventually.

I left the bathroom and returned to the class. No one noticed me, which was just fine.

~~JH~~

Sophia watched Emma pace back and forth outside Winslow. "I just don't know what happened," Emma was saying. "Switching Taylor's test paper should have done the job."

"Let it go, Emma," Sophia said, bored. Truth be told, she was getting bored of smacking hebert around. Even these new little twists to hebert's personality weren't enough to catch her interest.

"Easy for you to say," said Emma irritably. "You're already strong."

"Smacking Hebert around is fun," replied Sophia slowly, "but I wouldn't call it a sign of strength. You're already on top."

"Yes," replied Emma slowly, "but I'm only on top because I grind others underneath me. That's how I show that I'm strong. Imagine if you didn't go out and-" she glanced around, "-and you know."

Sophia thought about that for a second. Emma had a point there. This was her battleground. "yeah, I guess. But can't you just find another loser to beat down on?"

Emma stopped pacing and exhaled. "I can..." But she didn't want to. "Taylor's easy," she said finally. "Anyone else I'll have to break them in. Anyway, we've stil got Taylor another week before the transfer."

"Gonna be an interesting week," replied Sophia. "Come on, let's go get something to eat. I'm starved. Then I got to get to work."

~~JH~~

I opened the door and slipped silently inside. Immediately the smell of sizzling bacon assaulted my senses. I took a seat in the kitchen. "Morning, dad."

"There you are," he said, turning the bacon over and dishing up the poached eggs. "That must have been some run."

I smiled just thinking about it. "Yeah, I must be a natural. It felt like I could go for hours."

In truth, my power let me wash away the fatigue and soreness, which meant I was able to run faster and harder. The most extraordinary thing though was that the process didn't leave me addicted to my power (who was I kidding? Of course I was addicted), but rather I actually gained the leaps and bounds from the extreme exertions. It was like packing an entire week's worth of physical exercise into a single session. It was almost as if my power was just making me a better person overall. It was like a friend that was always there, guiding me, listening to me, offering me advice, and just holding my hand when I needed it.

Dad sat down and began to inhale his eggs. He was one of those fast eater-types. I never understood it. Wasn't it better to savour one's food?

"Listen, dad," I said, "I was thinking. I'd like to take some self-defence classes. Maybe a martial arts class." For some reason swordfighting kept coming to mind, but that was ridiculous... or was it? The gleam of that crimson light sabre flashed across my mind's eye... but surely that was impossible... I couldn't be a tinker also... but why not?

Dad was chewing his food more slowly now as he thought about what I said. "Is this because of-?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but held back. In a sense it was, and it was easier to just go with it rather than try to provide some more convoluted reason. "Yeah, pretty much."

He nodded. "All right."

That was easier than expected, but since he was so worried about me, I suppose it made sense. I reached out and touched his emotions. His worry was nearly a physical thing. He wore it like a cloak. I realized as I studied him that he was a man that had lost hope in life. He was just putting one foot in front of the next; day in and day out.

"Dad," I began tentatively. My thoughts were half-formed, but I felt compelled to take action now. I wondered if maybe this was my power nudging me, but I couldn't be certain. "I'd like to get a job."

"A job?" he asked, frowning. "Between the Arcadia transfer and the martial art - when are you going to have time for a job?" He shook his head. "Wait for a semester. Maybe during the summer. You should let things get settled down now."

I wanted to protest, but his concern was legitimate for his perspective. He didn't know that I was a cape, and that studying for school and learning a martial art would be easy for me now. He didn't know that I wanted to begin taking on more responsibility in the household, to ease some of the burdens on his shoulders. I wanted him to know that he wasn't alone.

"I love you, dad," I said.

"I love you too," he replied, though he was clearly trying to figure out what brought that on.

~~JH~~

It was my last day at Winslow. When I awoke that morning, I felt a surge of foreboding that I had learned to recognize as a portent. I sincerely debated not going to school that day. I didn't think anyone would care particularly. One day of hookie would not jepoardize my transfer to Arcadia. Still, I felt as though I had something to prove. Pride goeth before the fall, I remember hearing my mother once say.

All day, I felt a tension building in the air. The students didn't pay any attention to me. There were not even looks my way. Emma seemed to be ignoring me. I suffered very few insults. Madison didn't even try to dump pencil shavings on me when she passed my desk in World Affairs. It was only in the later moments that I realized the lack of attention was itself the prelude.

The moment I stepped out of the school properly, I sensed them. They were four boys. One of them was in his senior year. He had shaved his head and had a Norse symbol tattooed on his bicep. The others were in my year. They all had that rough and tumble look of gang members. I felt their attention zero in on me. This was second nature as part of my power. They were casually drifting across the parking lot in my direction.

My mind zinged through all the possibilities. If I got into a fight with them, they could do serious harm to me. They could end up preventing me from finishing the term at Arcadia. There was no telling what that would do to my school term the next year. If I used my power, I could end up outing myself to people affiliated with Brockton Bay's most notorious gang.

Unfortunately, it seemed like my time was made up. When they were twenty paces away, I made a show of looking at them. Our gazes locked, and the moment they ran at me was the moment I sprinted to the sidewalk. It was a good ten miles from Winslow to my home. I was sure I could clear that in less than an hour with all the running I'd been doing. I was sure I could lose my pursuers.

It was only when it was almost too late that I realized the trap. There were a pair of gang members up ahead. Instinctively, I swerved into an alley only to realize an instant too late that they'd been herding me this way. I frantically looked about as I dashed through the trash littered debris. The buildings on either side were massive, ten storey brick. No one was jumping down from on high, and it wasn't a dead end. I felt a premonition of danger from overhead, and I surged forward, drawing on every ounce of the force I could muster to propel me the last few feet before there was a resounding crash behind me that sent dust and debris flying in all directions. Some of it peppered my back hard enough to draw blood.

I screeched to a halt and saw the remains of a car now blocking the alley behind me. Beyond the car were the boys that were chasing me. Ahead of me at the end of the alley were still more guys - these ones were older and had the scars and hard features I was more accustomed to expecting from gang members. From overhead, a figure descended. I looked up and recognized Rune from E88. I took a step back. This was way too much effort for just me. Somehow, they thought I was a cape. And I had no mask to protect myself. And I was completely surrounded.

Fuck.

I turned around and around, searching for a way to escape, but my power was giving me no guidance. Did that mean I was screwed?

No, I thought angrily. I wasn't screwed.

Rune was descending like a queen from on high as she rode what I thought was a cement slab. I couldn't outrun her. She could fly and call for back up whenever she wanted, and she had a lot of capes she could call on if I put up a fight.

I shook myself. What was I thinking? I had to at least try to flee. That was my only option. A hazy sort of plan formed in my head. It was going to out me, but it was better than being caught and conscripted into a Nazi gang. I sprinted toward the end of the alley. the space was narrow and there were several guys in front of me. I called on every ounce of the force I could muster to barrel through them. One swung a haymaker. I didn't even slow as I dodged it. Another tried to grab me, but I managed to stop on a dime. He was already in mid-lunge right in front of me. I grabbed him and used all my strength to lift and throw him. His feet left the ground, and I just managed to register his surprise as he went careening into a guy that was about to grab me from behind. An instant later, I was off, weaving between the three remaining guys.

A flash of danger had me twisting so hard I almost headbutted the brick wall. I felt the compression of air as a fast-moving projectile whizzed by. One of the gang members screamed, and I realized Rune had propelled a rock at me. That would have smashed my ribcage if it'd hit, I thought. I drew harder on the force as my danger sense ratcheted up, and my thoughts sped up even further. The movement of the people around me slowed. Rune was barreling toward me, a constellation of rocks. One was already racing toward me. I threw myself out of the way again, moving even faster than before - and just in the nick of time. The fist-sized rock shattered as it hit the brick wall behind me. I was peppered with bits of stone as I turned and bolted the rest of the way down the alley.

Rune was behind me. I had a fast second to realize the car had vanished from the alley. I flung myself sideways down the street just as it crashed on the cement once more.

I can't outrun her, I thought, and she only needs one lucky hit.

The two closest gang members were just ten feet away. I shouted at them, using all my skill at mastering, "Protect me! Kill her!" I pointed at Rune for emphasis.

Three more rocks came rocketing toward me. This time they were spaced out to prevent me from dodging to the left or right. My power screamed at me to jump. Bewildered and having no time to think, I did as commanded, thrusting my power downward with all my strength. I sailed ten feet into the air. The three rocks shot through where I was before stopping in mid-air and spiraling downward. When I hit the ground from my jump - had that really been ten feet? - I was sprinting again. I heard the sound of firecrackers - kinetic rounds - and Rune's scream of pain and surprise.

I kept running, and did not turn back.

~~JH~~

Armsmaster stilled his motorbike and dismounted at the mouth of the alley. His HUD was feeding him huge amounts of data. Small impact craters from projectiles and two large ones - no doubt caused by the wrecked sedan. A part of his screen hived off to one corner where a licence plate search pulled up the identity of the vehicle owner. A notice was automatically transmitted to alert his assistant to bring the owner in and interrogate him.

There were twelve members - Empire 88.. A teenage girl in costume on the ground - expanding pool of blood - Rune. Two bullet wounds. Already his HUD was transmitting alerts to the PRT who were no doubt jumping into action. He began conscripting footage from nearby surveillance cameras. Fortunate perhaps that as this was the midway between the poorer areas and the richer areas, it meant that the shop owners had the money to buy good quality surveillance equipment and the need to use it due to the higher instances of criminal activity.

A picture began to form of the events which took place.

"This is Armsmaster," he began as he walked through the crime scene. He debated checking on Rune's vitals, but Piggot would no doubt hassle him for giving preferential treatment to a cape, so he didn't bother. A note like that could have the potential for reflecting poorly on him at a later date. And anyway, he could see the emergency vehicles en route. They would be here in four minutes, and he had no reason to think anyone who was still alive was in immediate danger. "I am investigating reports of a cape fight which first made an appearance on the Parahuman Online message boards at 3:45pm today. A caucasian female - likely a teenager - the surveillance footage of the chase ended about three miles away. He could conscript more, but it would require too much processing power and given that the city was not well-surveiled - he calculated it was not an efficient use of time. Still, one of his programs activated, and calculated likely routes given the information at hand.

"She may have been coming from Winslow High," he continued. "She was pincered and routed by at least-" he checked the surveillance again, "-fifteen males approximate ages ranging from 15 to 24 years. Parahuman support was provided by Rune. Unknown if other parahuman involvement, but unlikely. This appears to be a standard snatch and grab operation of a new cape."

It obviously didn't go as planned, he thought as the PRT agents descended on the scene. Given the number of bodies, the PRT was also mixed in with local law enforcement and paramedics from Brockton General. The PRT were bundling Rune into one of the ambulances. Armsmaster made a note to assign two parahuman guards to her containment. He was pleased to see that the PRT were using the tinker gloves he had designed to restrict Rune's abilities. He made a note of it. It was important to preserve these things. After a second's thought, he added a note that the gloves were experimental, and thus should not be wholly relied on. There, he thought with satisfaction, that would protect him in case she got out anyway.

He returned to making his report. "There are several gunshot wounds. It appears that a firefight broke out between the gang members. Rune was shot twice." He paused at that realization, and checked the surveillance footage more carefully. The angles weren't good. The surveillance cameras didn't catch what went on in the alley, but by the time the new cape reached the sidewalk things became a little clearer. "Suspected mover or brute ability," he said as he watched her leap ten feet seven inches into the air. He studied the footage. She turned and shouted something and pointed at Rune. Armsmaster stilled as he saw the nearest gang members - the footage wasn't very clear but they looked... confused, and then turned around and began firing on their own people. Armsmaster paled a little at the realization. "Like a master."

The new cape may very well have been the first Brockton Bay native to become a master - excluding Glory Girl - though her master rating was so low no one thought much about it. This one looked to be higher. It was hard to tell. Mid-level at least - Master 4 probably. 5 if the range and breadth were higher.

The fact she could master enemies in the middle of combat - at least two simultaneously - and force them to turn on their own friends in the heat of combat spoke volumes though. He made sure to activate his phonic inhibitors just in case her power was sound-based. Now all his communications would be recorded and analyzed before being translated to him using either a synthesized voice or appearing as transcribed text using speech-to-text.

Armsmaster continued his report. But now he was looking more closely - descending to the next level of analysis. The cape did not appear to have any bruises on her, but she also didn't appear to have inflicted any bruises on anyone either. If she were a brute, she would have had to have had incredible self control not to punch her way through the gangs. From their position, they'd obviously had her trapped in the alley. No, he decided, she had to have been a mover of some kind. Perhaps a phasing ability like Shadowstalker. If she triggered at Winslow, it was possible that she may have inherited some of the ward's abilities by whatever exotic form of osmosis powers manifested. That could explain the ten foot vertical. Shadowstalker could do something similar. He studied the footage of the girl jumping once more. There did not appear to be any change in her corporeality. He pursed his lips. He was irritated he could not glean more about the new cape.

There'll be more chances, he thought as he surveyed the bloodstains that remained now that the paramedics and PRT had rounded up the bodies. There always were.

~~JH~~

Miss Militia was studying the footage. She leaned forward. "How did she know when to jump?"

Piggot could see Armsmaster's scowl despite the mask. No doubt he was kicking himself for not spotting it.

Piggot nodded as she replayed the footage. "She could be a precog. Or at least, she has a thinker ability that lets her have awareness of her surroundings."

"Could be related to her master power," said Miss Militia.

"Could," replied Piggot neutrally. Like Armsmaster she was very unhappy at having a mystery new cape with a master ability show up in her town. The only good side to the whole mess was that she at least didn't appear to be planning to join the empire anytime soon. And since she was white, she probably wouldn't be joining the ABB.

There came a knock at the door, and the Deputy Director stepped in. He held out a thin folder. "We've finished interrogating the suspects."

Piggot reached over and took it and immediately began perusing the file.

"The surviving members don't have a name for the new cape. They only knew she was from Winslow." Piggot paused and re-read the interrogation notes. She could feel a headache coming on. "The new cape shouted 'protect me' and 'kill her' before her final flight. This appears to be the trigger that caused three empire members to turn on their fellows. The turnabout was so sudden that they managed to severely injure Rune." Piggot studied the report.

"I see," she murmured. The gang members took her words literally. "They focused all their attention on Rune, which allowed the other gang members to assess and open fire. They killed one of the slaves instantly. Another was injured. They both turned and opened fire on their fellow gang members. Both of them aimed for one named Krueger - he was the only one that apparently knew the new cape's identity."

Armsmaster nodded. "It suggests that the slaves retain some measure of independent thought."

Piggot nodded. "They're half-puppets. They disregarded their own safety until late in the game. Only after the last was injured did he make any move to try to take cover."

"A power like that is going to be very dangerous," said Miss Militia pensively. "It'll be hard to tell who's been mastered."

"I'm marking this as priority one," said Piggot grimly. "We need to find this new cape immediately. Until we do, I am enacting full master-stranger protocols."

"That will be inefficient," said Armsmaster, but his tone suggested approval. Piggot imagined he was impressed by the new cape's ability to make the lives of her enemies inconvenient.

"Go talk to Shadowstalker," said Piggot. "If this new cape goes to Winslow, she should have some idea who it is."

"The empire will no doubt be searching for her as well."

"All the more reason we get there first," replied Piggot.

~~JH~~

Sophia grabbed Emma by the shoulder and shook her. She wanted to slam her head into the nearby locker until it cracked like a melon.

"Ow!" Emma cried out. "Stop that, you're hurting me! Sophia!"

"What. Did. You. Do." Sophia was livid, and Emma was starting to realize that.

"I just told Julie that I thought Taylor might've been a cape."

"You didn't jus ttell Julie-fucking-motormouth," Sophia ground out. "You knew what that blabbermouth bitch was gonna do."

"Yeah, so?"

"So," Sophia went on, amazed at how dense Emma was. The girl did not understand cape business at all. "What do you think the gang's going to do if they think Hebert's a cape?"

"They think she's a jew," said Emma sullenly. "They'll probably just try to rough her up. And then either Taylor'd get smacked down if she isn't a cape, or she'd get into trouble for using cape powers on norms."

"No," said Sophia. She was nearly vibrating with fury. "That is not what they're going to do. They're going to go and tell their bosses that they found a possible cape. That's what they're going to do."

"So?" Emma still was not getting it.

"And thenn they're going to go and find Taylor and talk to her."

Emma looked confused. "Why would they talk to her?"

Sophia closed her eyes. She let Emma go and prayed for strength to finish this conversation without violence.

"Capes are a big deal," said Sophia. "Everyone wants more capes. If they think there's even a slim chance that they could recruit her, they'll take it. The higher-ups in a cape organization like the E88 are going to double-check every fact before they make a move. How hard do you think it'll be for them to figure out that Taylor Hebert is not actually jewish?"

Emma digested this slowly. Finally, she said, "So you think they might recruit her?"

"There's no maybe about it," said Sophia. "Unless Hebert's a powerhouse, they're going to certainly do it. And nothing I've seen of Hebert suggests she's going to blow offthe empire. I can think of half a dozen empire capes that could stop her in her tracks."

"She wouldn't join the empire," said Emma, still resisting the idea. "She's not a Nazi."

"And if they put a gun to her old man's head?"

"I thought you said they wouldn't do that."

"They don't actively look for identities," said Sophia. "But a new cape... her identity falling into their lap... vulnerable without a team. Hell yeah they're going to take advantage of that."

Emma took a deep breath. "I still don't see the problem. If we know she's a cape, we could arrest her." This idea seemed to excite Emma to new heights. "Think about it. Once she shows herself, you'll be able to arrest her. You know, because you know where she lives. You could just be in the area-"

Sophia rubbed her temples. That idea was bat-shit fucking... actually... as she thought about it, it wasn't half bad. She could keep an eye on Hebert at home. Spy on her... stalk her... and when she legitimately saw suspicious activity, she could bust in and make the arrest. Sophia smiled. "That's fucking brill."

Emma beamed. "See?"

"I take it back," replied Sophia. "You just managed to make Hebert interesting prey once more."

Just then, Sophia's phone started to ring. "Shit," Sophia said. "Gotta take that. It's work."

Sophia answered the call. "Yeah?"

"We need you back here," said Kid Win without preamble. "The higher-ups lost a key to the warehouse. They need you to retrieve something." Translation: Piggy wanted to pump her for information.

"Sure," said Sophia easily. "I'll be there in an hour."

"As quick as you can."

Sophia hung up. The thought drifted through her mind that maybe this was Hebert-related. "Look I gotta go."

"We cool?" asked Emma.

"We're cool," said Sophia. "But don't get into cape business without talkking to me first."

"I won't."

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow on the Boardwalk."

~~JH~~

Sophia had learned over the months she had been in the wards to read the moodd of the PRT. There was no question the PRT always had a feel of coiled power. The troops were a well-oiled machine, and maintained an air of professionalism matched only by the military. These were people who cared about what they did and who regularly risked their lives against violent super-powered sociopaths. Still, the PRT usually had a relaxed atmosphere. The building was heavily protected, and they were surrounded by well-armed soldiers that had your back. This was the seat of military power, and they all knew it. Today though, there was a feeling of heightened activity and tension in the air. But there wasn't panic or terror. It was more fear - but a wary fear - like that of two predators who didn't quite know the other's capabilities as they sized each other up.

"This way, please," said her handler, Karen something or other. Sophia was led to a conference room. This one of the fancy ones on the upper floor, which meant whatever she'd been called in for, it was for something both private and serious.

Both Piggy and Armsmaster came in moments later. They weren't even playing the waiting game, Sophia thought. So there really was something time-sensitive.

"At approximately 3:30pm today," Piggot began, "an altercation took place between the empire and a new cape in an alley just off Torbram and Leslie Road." She opened her folio. Sophia knew this was an affectation of Piggot's. The old bat no doubt already had the file memorized, so looking down at the pages was totally superfluous. "The empire brought 15 non-parahuman combatants and 1 parahuman combatant - Rune. The gang members cornered the new cape in an alley. We expect Rune was just arriving on site when the new cape chose to engage in violence to break free."

"What's this got to do with me?" Sophia demanded. She tamped down on her agitation. So this was about Hebert, and something fucked up must have happened. This put Sophia on edge. If anyone thought she was involved...

"Do not interrupt me, please," replied Piggot.

Sophia opened her mouth but then stopped. There were rumours Armsy was putting together a lie detector. Best not to say anything that could set it off.

"We think the new cape may attend Winslow." Piggot and Armsmaster were both studying her intently. "Do you have an idea who it might be?"

"Are you asking me to unmask a cape?" Sophia's mind was racing as she tried to sort through the implications. She wasn't expecting this, and she did not know which answer to give.

"Right now, if you could simply verify whether you know of the cape, that would suffice." That was Armsmaster. He was leaning forward. There was a tiny little dot on a piece of tinker tek that jutted out of his shoulder. It was pointed right at her. The fucking lie detector.

"I have a suspect," said Sophia. "There's a girl who's been acting funny."

Piggot nodded. "Go on."

Sophia eyed Armsmaster warily. He hadn't given any indication as to whether he believed her or didn't believe her. "What's more to go on with?" Sophia asked.

"What indications did she give you to suggest she was a parahuman?"

Sophia shrugged. "She became great at phys ed overnight. She made it look easy. There was one moment where she dodged a ball that was thrown at her from behind."

"How did she dodge it?" Armsmaster asked. He leaned forward.

"She jumped over it," said Sophia casually, but she didn't miss the laser-like focus that was now on her. "That was the thing that stood out for me. I spend a lot of time practising to take down criminals. The girl looked like she could do it in her sleep."

"Why didn't you report it?" asked Armsmaster.

"Report what?" asked Sophia irritably. "A classmate of mine is good at Dodgeball? I wouldn't have even thought she was seriously a parahuman except that you're asking me all these dumbass questions."

Piggot was now the one to lean forward. "Do you know when she triggered?"

Sophia shrugged. "A few weeks ago, maybe?"

"What was her trigger event?" asked Armsmaster. "I can't find anything in the news of a trigger-worthy event from a few weeks ago."

Sophia glared. "That's not even the way triggers work. She was probably at home moping about how she's got no friends."

"Do you know her?" asked Piggot. "Can you speak to her and see if she is willing to come here?"

"I don't know her," replied Sophia. "Not well anyway. And I'm not approaching a cape and threatening them if I don't even know what their powers are. For all I know, she's a master."

There were no obvious tells - both of them were too good at this game to give anything away, but Sophia knew them well, and the momentary silence told her all she needed to know.

"No fucking way," said Sophia. "She's seriously a master?"

Even as she noted their significantly exchanged glances, Sophia's mind was racing. That didn't fit with anything she knew of Hebert's abilities. A brute or mover - probably the former with the way she healed up. Where did a master power fit in with that?

The projection screen descended, and the lights dimmed. "You will not breathe a word of this to anyone." Piggot replayed clips from the video footage of the attack.

Sophia watched intently. When they came to the point where Hebert shouted something, Piggot paused to say, "She instructed the gang members to protect her and kill Rune."

"Christ," Sophia muttered. "That's fucked up." She watched as the fight turned into gun violence between the gang members. She watched the guy that Emma had talked to take three bullets. One of them struck him in the face. The only regret she had from watching the violence was that she wasn't the one inflicting it.

"Is that the person you believe to be a cape?"

Reluctantly, Sophia nodded.

"You know, we now have enough information to identify her. All it would take would be to show this footage to your physical education instructor."

Sophia thought about that. They were basically telling her that she wasn't going to get any points for revealing, and not revealing would only get her in shit. "Her name is Taylor Hebert."

~~JH~~

Kaiser stared down at the teenager impassively.

Hookwolf extruded one barbed claw. "You're gonna tell us every little goddamned thing you saw."

The kid nodded, his gaze fixed on the tip of that claw as it neared his eyeball. "Yuh-yuh-yes, of cuh-cuh-course. I don't know who the cape is. I only know there was a girl going around telling everyone there was a cape. Jimmy got wind of it and wanted details. He arranged everything. They made it quick 'cause the cape was s'posed to be transferring to Arcadia."

Kaiser's mind raced at that last statement. Were they dealing with a new ward. The Arcadia transfer suggested so, but he hadn't heard anything about a new ward.

"The cunt that was blabbing," Hookwolf growled. "What's her name?"

"Julia," said the boy. "Julia McDowell."

Kaiser turned to one of his subordinates. "Go find her address please."

The subordinate nodded and left.

"I don't know what her powers are." The boy was nearly weeping with the admission. "They were saying she did something in PE. She dodged a ball or something. And someone said she wrote something weird in Mr. Henderson's class. You know, cape weird."

"No, I don't know," growled Hookwolf. "Explain."

"I don't know nothing more than that."

Wrote something weird, thought Kaiser. He had scant information from the fight this morning. Three of his subordinates had fled and returned, bringing with them the only source of valuable information. The girl was a teenager at Winslow. She moved like lightning, threw a man, dodged as though she knew the hits were coming. All of that spoke of a mover or brute. But the weird writing... a tinker? It was possible that she was reproducing the effects with tinker gadgetry. He did like the idea of acquiring a tinker. That would be a real coup for his empire - the one thing he was lacking."

"I have it," said his subordinate, who returned. "532 Duckberry Lane."

Kaiser turned to Victor. "If you would be so kind as to pay a visit to Miss McDowell's abode. Do try and be discreet."

Victor nodded and left.

Kaiser gazed at the sniveling coward before him. Sadly, the empire was full of these loathsome wretches. Purifying humankind seemed like more and more of a chore each passing year.

"Do I need to let this one go too?" asked Hookwolf.

"No," replied Kaiser. "This one is all yours."

Kaiser left. The boy's screams faded into the background. His blood poured in rivulets along the already stained concrete and into the drain on the floor.

~~JH~~

Julie was glued to the PHO boards, where she watched the shaky, low quality footage of the afternoon's fight. "That can't be," she breathed. "She really is a cape." Vaguely, she was alarmed. Julie liked picking on Hebert and the other losers as much as the next person - better them than her - but she felt that somehow being near a cape meant danger. Especially now that the cape in question had pissed off the empire.

The doorbell rang, and her mother shouted for her to get it. She was just pondering the issue when she reached the door and opened it. A strange man was standing there.

"Ms. Julia McDowell?" he asked.

He was handsome, even if a little older, and his voice had a rich, almost hypnotic cadence to it.

"Uh, yeah," she said. "that's me."

"My name is Victor."

It took a second for her mind to grasp his identity.

"Perhaps it would be best if we took a walk," he went on casually. "We would not want your parents or little brother to be overly troubled."

She swallowed. "Uh, yeah, sure." She went and put on her shoes and jacket. "I'm stepping out for a bit mom," she called.

"Dear, who is it?"

"Just a friend. You remember Emma? She's got a question about school." Please don't come out of the kitchen. Please don't come out of the kitchen. She quickly stepped outside and closed the door.

"What is it?" asked Julie, but Victor was already walking down the driveway to a stately looking Towncar.

Julie gulped but firmed up her resolve and followed. Once they were inside and on the move, he began. "Tell me everything you know about the new cape at Winslow."

~~JH~~

Victor watched with a hooded gaze as two PRT officers rang the doorbell to the Hebert household. He tapped the earpiece and said quietly, "The secondary target is home. Two officers entering the premises. No capes sighted."

"Two squishies ain't gonna stop me," said Hookwolf. "I say we take them."

"Negative," replied Victor. "Primary target not yet spotted."

"I don't give a fuck. She'll come once she finds out we got her daddy."

Victor sighed. "We're not abducting the head of the DWA. Kaiser would be displeased." Hookwolf was great at certain things, but politics was not one of them. Still, Rune was supposed to be the soft touch and that obviously failed. So here they were.

"I ain't waiting around all night."

"You don't have to," replied Victor. "I expect we can draw her out. Just let me know when Cricket hears her." Victor cut the transmission and looked over at Othala. "Managing Hookwolf can be sucha chore sometimes."

Othala laid her delicate fingers over top his. He thought he could feel the banked power contained within. In many ways, Othala was the jewel of Kaiser's budding cape army. In a world where capes and norms alike were frequently torn apart by violence, the power to heal was considered the holy grail of powers. It was the only thing that could truly provide assurance that their people and their people's loved ones could go on living despite whatever violence befell them.

"I hope she comes quietly," Othala said. "She's just a teenage girl."

"That ship has sailed, I am afraid," replied Victor. "She did not even wait to listen to Rune before engaging in violence. Her father is also well-known for his anti-gang sentiment. I can only assume that he has filled his daughter's head with that nonsense."

"As if they should lump us in with the monkeys and trash," Othala murmured. "Still, I do hope."

"Laudible," he murmured.

Victor's earpiece crackled to life. ""We got her. There's a little birdie perched on a roof two houses down. She's crouching behind a chimney. I'm going in."

"No," Victor said urgently. Something was troubling him about the situation. They still didn't fully undrstand the new cape's powers. "I told you we're not going to abudct-"

"I heard you," said Hookwolf. "And I ain't going to abduct him. I only have to make the little cunt think I'm going to abduct him. She'll come." Hookwolf killed the transmission.

"Shit," Victor swore. "Hookwolf's going in."

Othala nodded. "That's what Kaiser wants."

"I'm supposed to moderate," said Victor, opening the door as he saw Hookwolf and his two capes cross the street. Othala joined him as they approached. "We'll let him go first," said Victor. "Once he has injured the girl, we'll go in and wrap her up and take her to Kaiser."

from a distance, they watched as Hookwolf shredded the front door like it was tissue paper.

"If he injures the officers," Victor said quietly, "heal them. Kaiser will not want-"

A shadow landed on the roof of the house. It came and went so quickly Victor wasn't sure he even truly saw it.

"So it begins," Othala said.

~~JH~~

I couldn't believe this was happening. In the span of six hours, my life was falling apart. I'd participated in a cape fight - killed people - injured Rune - and now the empire was busting down my door. I leapt through the back door. It seemed to open without me even touching it.

There was shouting - that was my dad. the PRT were also shouting, and then there was a burst of gunfire. I was getting heartily sick of that sound.

I sprinted into the living room to a scene of carnage. The sofa had been torn in two. Bits of fluff was floating through the air in all directions with Hookwolf standing in the middle. The PRT officers had their guns trained on him, and had backed up. One was in the doorway to the kitchen, my dad behind him. The other was on the stairs.

That was Hookwolf, my mind gibbered in shock and fear. I couldn't even touch him let alone stop him. I aimed for one of the other capes - Stormtiger.

Hookwolf looked like he was about to say something, but I was already in motion, moving so fast I was across the room in an eyeblink. Stormtiger was just raising a hand when I tackled him. The force of the collision sent him partway through the drywall.

Cricket must have been nearly as fast as me, because she was the first to reach me. I danced backward, out of the way of those two wicked-looking swords. I never craved my light sabre more than I did in that moment.

Despite my speed and danger sense, Cricket was fast, and we were in an enclosed space. One of the kamas bit deeply into my arm.

A spray of bullets had Cricket juking to one side. It barely slowed her, but it was all I needed.

I gathered the force to me and pressed it down on Cricket's mind. To my shock, she resisted far more than anyone had ever done before. I poured all my will into it. I barely registered the wounds from Stormtiger's air claws - he was just now picking himself out of the wall.

Finally, Cricket's mind seemed to give way under my onslaught. I had no idea what I had done to her - I felt like maybe I had crushed her mind. There was shouting, and another spray of bullets in Stormtiger's direction. I was stumbling back, only now looking at the freely bleeding gashes in my other arm.

But pandemonium was erupting around me as Cricket turned around and skewered Stormtiger through the stomach.

Hookwolf's eyes bulged as he realized I was a master. The PRT must have realized I had raised the stakes, because they opened fire on Hookwolf.

But the bullets thudded harmlessly against his metal shell, as he was suddenly covered head to foot in a series of whirling blades. He charged, and I was just scrambling to my feet - my power was numbing the pain somehow - when there was another cry. In slow motion, I watched my dad tackle me. There was a moment where I stumbled and hit the ground. I stared up at him for that brief moment, my eyes wide, my mouth open in a half-formed scream as Hookwolf barreled into him.

The next thing I knew, blood was spattering my face. I watched in a state of numb horror as my dad was torn apart.

Hookwolf was roaring, but I barely heard him. I did not hear the frantic radio of the PRT officers. I did not see Hookwolf turn to me and charge again. I did not see Cricket interpose herself between me and Hookwolf, saving my life. I stared at my dad's corpse. No - not a corpse. There wasn't enough of him left. There were giblets of flesh on the wall - an arm here - a leg there. My gaze fell on his head. I crawled over to it. Someone was tugging on my arm. It was one of the PRT officers. I stared blankly at them. They were saying something.

"Not without my dad," I tried to say. I sank down into a pool of his cooling blood and touched his hair... his cheek. "Daddy?"

The yanking grew more insistent. Anger filled me. How dare they try to take me away from my home. I gathered the force to me. It came easier than it ever had before, and I sent it out in a wave. I did not register the officer's surprise, or the arc of his body as it sailed across the room to hit the fireplace. I turned back to my dad.

"You little cunt!" roared Hookwolf. He had just batted Cricket to one side and turned to face me. "I'm gonna do worse to you than I did to your precious daddy."

"Hookwolf, stop!" Someone else had arrived. I stared up at the stranger. He was an empire cape, but I did not remember him. Othala was also there. She was healing Stormtiger. She could heal. My gaze sharpened.

"She's a fucking master!" shouted Hookwolf.

I ignored the two men shouting. They were irrelevant. I picked up my dad's head and held it out to her. Othala was just turning around. I said, "Heal him."

Othala stared at the severed head in my hands, and then at me. There was a funny look in her eyes - was that pity? that was ridiculous. She didn't need to pity me. She needed to heal my dad. Then everything would be fine.

"Heal him," I commanded. I shook my dad's head at her.

The two men stopped arguing and stared at this strange tableau, as if paralyzed by my demand.

"Sweetheart," Othala said tentatively, "I can't heal him."

"Of course you can heal him," I insisted. She was a healer. That's what healers did. "Of course you can. Do it. Do it now." I hesitated. I knew they wanted me to join them. If I had joined them this morning none of this would be happening. This was my fault. Something inside me felt like it was breaking. It felt like a light sabre was being slowly dragged through my chest. "I'll-" A lump was forming in my throat. "I'll join you. I'll do anything. Please, just heal him." Something was wrong with my vision. It was getting blurry. Was I crying?

Othala was shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she said in a quiet voice. "He's dead. There's nothing I can do."

I stared down at my hands. Blood was all over them. My dad's eyes had sunken back into the head. The skin was yellow. My fingers were digging grooves into the sagging flesh where I was gripping it too hard.

"No," I said, but the truth was settling around me like a cold blanket.

The numbness was giving way to something else. It fellt like I had been in a cocoon, and was only now crawling out. I had been fighting it all these weeks - my power. All those nightmares, all those feelings of anger - I had been denying them - denying myself. Those were me. I never felt it as I did now. I embraced it. I let it fill me, and it kept filling me, and I realized in that moment that my power... it wasn't a stream. It wasn't a river. It was an ocean, and it was all there for me to bend to my will.

I didn't even register standing. I barely registered the capes taking a step back.

"Taylor-" Othala began.

"What the fuck's wrong with her eyes?" That was Hookwolf. I turned to face him, still holding my dad's head.

"You killed him," I said. The new reality was still dawning on me. In a lower, deadlier voice, I repeated, "You killed my dad."

"Now hold on, Taylor-" That was Othala trying again.

I ignored her.

"What're you gonna do, little girl?" Hookwolf demanded. "You fucked with us and killed our people. So of course we're gonna come fuck with yours. That's the way the world works. You can't handle it, too bad."

I nodded. "Totally. That's totally the way the world works. What goes around comes around, right, Hookwolf?"

"Yeah," he said.

The new guy - I realized who he was - Victor was leaning in close to Othala and whispering, but I heard it clear as day. "We might be witnessing a second trigger. Everyone should be very careful."

"Good," said Hookwolf. "So you're gonna come quietly then, and we're gonna discuss you joining the empire, and putting this shit behind us."

"Yeah," I said. "That's totally what I'm gonna do."

I raised a hand. The sudden and violent snapping of Cricket's neck was like a gunshot in the silence of the enclosed space. One minute she was there, and the next she was a doll collapsing to the ground after her strings had been cut.

Hookwolf roared and charged, and all hell broke loose.

~~JH~~

The moment Hookwolf's charge was re-directed, his whole body going flying like a rocket through the kitchen door and out of sight, Victor knew they were in trouble. Hookwolf could handle abuse like that, but the rest of them couldn't. One hit, and Othala would be dead. "Get behind me," he said to Othala. They had practised this formation before. She would make him invincible and use him as a shield.

They backed out. Victor raised his pistol, but did not quite point it at the girl.

Stormtiger had not been idle. He had been gathering air to form claws. Victor new from experience that a single swipe of the fully formed claws could shred a man to bits, and it appeared Stormtiger was planning on giving the girl the full swipe.

Victor raised his pistol and fired just as Stormtiger swiped. Simultaneously, Hookwolf returned, tearing through the wall.

Miraculously the girl dodged all three strikes. She raised her father's head to take the bullet. The clawswipe dissipated somehow, and she moved so fast that he lost track of her. But Hookwolf was no slouch and had no doubt expected a dodge. He stopped his charge, using his claws to dig into the ground and turned to run the girl down. Victor fired another shot at her, but she simply raised a hand and deflected the bullet right into Hookwolf's eye. The coordination was extraordinary - deflecting a bullet so that it ricocheted into someone's eye was definitely in the high thinker-mover range.

Hookwolf, apparently, didn't appreciate the girl's ability. He screamed and shook his head until the deformed bullet came flying out of his bloody eyeball. He then rampaged toward her once more. Stormtiger was doing something. Yes, Victor had seen this attack before. He was trying to suffocate her into unconsciousness.

At the last moment, Cricket's body went flying and struck Hookwolf. The force of the blow negated his charge yet again, and drove him back a step. An instant later, Cricket's body was shredded to bits. In that brief moment of respite, the girl had struck Stormtiger. It must have been a variation on the power that snapped cricket's neck. Only this time, Stormtiger was driven backward through the side of the house.

"Let's go," said Victor. They needed to heal Stormtiger. That blow might have been fatal.

The brisk winter air highlighted the sweat and tension that rolled off himself and Othala as they hurried to the side of the house.

There was another roar from Hookwolf, and then a feeling like that of a storm building filled the air.

"Hurry," said Victor. He had a bad feeling about the situation. Logically, it looked as though the girl was on the defensive, but still she had managed to kill Cricket and injure Stormtiger all while deflecting Hookwolf. He would almost have thought she were toying with them.

"He's alive," said Othala, relieved. "Just another few minutes, and he'll be right as rain."

"Forget it," said Victor. "I'll carry him. He can heal on the way."

It was good they moved, because a second later, Hookwolf came crashing through the side of the house. "Retreat!" Victor shouted to Hookwolf, but Hookwolf's bloodlust was up.

In the distance, Victor could make out a flying figure on approach. Dauntless probably.

Victor threw Stormtiger unceremoniously into the backseat. He was just coming to, but was still too groggy to re-enter the fight.

"How bad were his injuries?" asked Victor as he got into the driver's seat.

"Over a hundred breaks to various bones. There was bleeding in the brain." She leaned over and touched him again to grant him more healing. "He might need another couple of minutes."

Victor was just hitting the gas pedal when he stopped and stared at the strange events playing out on the front lawn. The girl was there on the front steps, part of the front of the house caved in so that she was framed by the demolished contents of her living room. Hookwolf was on the lawn. Smoke was rising from his body. The girl, Taylor - she held her hands out, and suddenly, a blinding stream of octinic lightning leapt from her fingertips to Hookwolf's body. He roared, but this time from pain. The lightning streamed for nearly twenty seconds. Hookwolf had stopped screaming, and his metal exoskeleton was melting off him in glowing puddles. His body continued to spasm, but Victor was certain he was already dead.

"Jesus," said Othala. She stared wide-eyed at the scene.

He reversed and backed up so that they would not pass by the house. In his rearview mirror, he saw the girl raise a hand in their direction. He tried to juke to one side, but it was no use. The entire car was suddenly flipping end over end. The last thing he heard was Othala screaming and reaching for him before his world went dark.

~~JH~~

Dauntless touched down in front of the demolished remains of the Hebert household. Even though it looked like all the fighting was over, he still wished Assault and Battery would hurry up. It looked like a war zone out here. His gaze first fell on the steaming pile of flesh that lay on the lawn. The smell of cooked flesh was still heavy in the air despite the cold breeze. Hookwolf, he decided.

In the distance, Victor was trying to drag Othala out through the window of an upturned car. Dauntless walked over and called out. "Halt."

Victor did not so much as twitch, instead focusing on dragging Othala out.

"Step away from the vehicle, Victor," said Dauntless, "or I'll have to use force."

Victor drew out his pistol, but did not point it at anyone. After a minute, he closed his eyes and let the weapon drop from his fingers. He nodded and raised his arms.

Dauntless walked over and cuffed him.

"Othala requires immediate medical attention," he said.

"The paramedics are on their way," said Dauntless. "We'll get her to the hospital as soon as possible." Sure enough, they could now hear the sirens of the first responders. "In the meantime, why don't you tell me what happened?"

Victor sighed, but began his story.

~~JH~~

The ringing of the alarm dragged Piggot from sleep. No, that wasn't the alarm. Her mind sharpened, and she came to alertness. That was her phone.

It was still dark out. 11:00pm according to her clock. She had just gone to bed an hour ago.

The phone kept ringing.

"Yeah?" she said, putting the receiver to her ear. She was already sitting up.

"We have a situation at the Hebert residence."

The fog of sleep was gone now. Her mind was putting pieces together and prioritizing questions that needed answering.

"Is Zephyr in custody?" Zephyr was the name given to Hebert by the Protectorate.

"No ma'am."

"Anyone injured?"

"Zephyr's father is dead. Likely the result of Hookwolf. The girl is missing. Hookwolf dead. Cricket dead."

As Piggot listened, she grew progressively more alarmed. What the hell happened out there?

"Call everyone to base," she said. This needed to be contained ASAP. They needed to find this girl before her body count went up any further. "Not all the wards," she went on, thinking, "just Vista, Aegis, and Gallant - have them be on call. I want a telleconference with them in ten minutes."

"Ma'am, if Zephyr's that dangerous-"

"Then we need someone who's capable of talking her down. If not the wards, then who? Armsmaster? Do as your told, officer."

"Yes, ma'am."

She hung up and stared into the shadows that crowded around her. Two capes dead, and four injured and apprehended. The empire wasn't going to take this lying down. She needed to have the capes processed and shipped off to prison immediately. Stormtiger could probably go to the cage. Victor and Othala would likely go to a maximum security cell, unless they were willing to deal, which was not out of the question. This was going to be a deal-breaker for Brockton Bay if they pulled it off, but it all required that they act quickly to remove the capes before Kaiser could mobilize and free them.

Kaiser had a lot of resources at his disposal to throw at a problem. A bribe here and some blackmail there, and a few favours given, and a few out-of-town mercenaries - no - they needed to be moved tonight. Piggot got dressed and called for her driver to come collect her. There was work to do.

~~JH~~

Everyone was captured. Kaiser gripped his tumbler so hard it shattered in his hand. He needed Purity more than ever. With her, he would get Night and Fog and Crusader - and he needed all of them if he were to recover his lost capes tonight... and he needed to get his capes back tonight - before the news stories ran tomorrow. Otherwise, the loss of face from such a defeat would dog him for months if not years. All his plans would have to be set back, and his backers overseas might hear about it. This was exactly the sort of thing that got All-Father killed.

He brushed the bits of glass from his hands and picked up the phone. He thought about sending Krieg - Purity had a good relationship with him - but no - this required his personal attention.

"Hello, Kayden," he said.

"Max? It's - almost midnight - you'll wake Aster."

"I'm sorry, Kayden. I truly am. I would not call if it were not an emergency." He waited for her to speak. It was best to let her take her own sweet time to think things through. It helped give her the feeling that she was in control.

"Does this have to do with the news this afternoon? The new cape?"

"Tangentially," he said.

Another pause. "I'm not going after her. I don't care what she's done."

"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "And for the record, we only tried to speak to her. We received word that a black girl was involved in her trigger. We had hoped she might have been amenable to seeing reason."

"What happened?" she asked.

"In the course of our attempts to contact her," said Kaiser, "a number of our capes were arrested. Hookwolf, Victor, Othala, Rune Cricket and Stormtiger."

"Jesus," said Kayden. "That's almost everyone. The empire's been gutted."

Kaiser gritted his teeth and dug into his reserves for the humility necessary to deal with his ex. "Yes, you can see why it is an emergency. Will you assist our brothers and sisters in their liberation from the race traitors?"

This was it, he thought. He hoped he wouldn't have to play the Aster card, but he was ready for it. It was just so much more satisfying to secure the cooperation of others without resorting to threats.

"You'll sign the custody papers," she said finally.

He grimaced. He had been willing to do that as a last resort, but it didn't feel right simply capitulating. "Now is not the time to be-"

"Now is the perfect time, Max. Sign them, and I'll help."

She fucking cut him off. He momentarily fantasized about ramming a giant metal spear through her head.

"You would really let our friends go to the cage for your own selfish needs?" he asked. "She's my child as well."

"This is non-negotiable."

"Fine," he bit out. "But you must do exactly as I say. We need to move quicklly if we are to liberate our people. Can you arrange for Night, Fog and Crusader to participate?"

"Yes," she said.

"We will have to move tonight," he warned.

"That is fine. But first you will sign the paperwork."

"It'll have to wait until the morning. I'll need my solicitors-"

"None of that, Max. The papers are signed witnessed, and delivered to the lawyer's office first. I don't care if you have to rouse them from their beds. The papers first."

"It's the middle of the night."

"Make it happen, Max."

"Fine. Be here in an hour. I'll have everything ready."

He slammed the phone down and took a deep breath before picking it up again. He was going to have to make a lot of calls to get everything arranged in time.

~~JH~~

"Stormtiger's going to the cage," said Piggot without preamble. "You can choose to join him, or you can cut a deall." She watched Victor through the video monitor. Given his power, nobody was to be in the same room as him lest he steal their skills.

"You wouldn't send us to the cage," said Victor confidently. "We haven't engaged in any criminal-"

"Going to a cape's home and murdering her father doesn't count?" said Piggot impatiently. She had to play this right and put the heat on before they had a chance to think. Miss Militia was in the other room with Othala doing the same thing.

"That wasn't us," Victor protested, but Piggot could see the sudden spike of worry. She knew she had him. "That was Hookwolf."

"You're not winning any points blaming a dead cape," said Piggot calmly. "I'm sure you stole a lawyer's skills at some point in the past. You tell me what the rules are for felony murder."

He did not respond, and Piggot was not prepared to let him think that his responses mattered. "You're going to deal, Victor, or you're going to the birdcage." Piggot held the intercom button down and continued, "I'm tired of having you capes in the city. You're weaker than you've ever been, and you've crossed a line that lets me do what I've been wanting to do for a long time. The transport is already being arranged. You'll be in the cage before sunrise. While I'm sure you can handle yourself in prison, I do wonder how Othala will fare. You will not be able to protect her in there, and her power will not protect her from the hardened criminals who are going to be her new roommates. If she's lucky, she'll be taken under the wing of the fairy queen - assuming the fairy queen doesn't simply kill her to take her power."

She could see her words slowly but surely penetrating. Piggot let go of the intercom button as Miss Militia stepped out of the other interrogation room.

"She's hysterical," said Miss Militia. "She won't deal. All she wants is to see Victor. I think she'll do whatever he does. She doesn't want to be separated from him."

Piggot nodded. "That accords with the reports of their relationship." Piggot stared down at Victor. His expression gave nothing away, though she had to admit it was harder through a video monitor to judge people's reaction. "I think he still believes the empire will save him."

"It'll be hard to disabuse him of that notion in the time allotted," said Miss Militia.

Piggot nodded slowly. "Let's bundle Othala into a car and send her off right now," said Piggot. "Don't wait. Take Benson and Druthers as escorts. Is Vista on base? Send her too. You as well."

"But the van-?"

"Send her now," said piggot sharply. "And arrange for a video feed. Let's see how Victor fares when he watches his love vanish into the sunset."

Miss Militia digested that. "Okay."

Piggot thought she could hear Othala wailling from the other side of the building. Twenty minutes later, a nondescript car with Othala cuffed in the backseat sped out of the PRT base.

The car cleared five blocks before it disappeared from PRT sensors. Of course the officers could still radio in, but often in these circumstances, they weren't given a chance to since cape violence tended to be abrupt and brutal, and the PRT only found out there was a problem when the vehicle failed to radio in at the specified checkpoint.

This time Piggot had arranged for a transport to head out from Boston to intercept and collect Othala and hold her there. The empire did not have any movers in Brockton that could reach out to Boston and retrieve Othala. And they probably would not want to call on organized crime in Boston for assistance since there was no guarantee that any criminal group would give her back.

A PRT officer came bursting into Piggot's office. "Director," he said. "The prisoner - Victor - he wants to talk."

Piggot smiled a shark's grin. "I'm sure he does."

~~JH~~

Carlos stood watch atop the PRT building. He still had trouble believing what was happening. It was two in the morning, and the empire was having its knees cut out from under it. It wasn't dead - not by a long shot, but with half its capes dead or in custody, it definitely wasn't the bogeyman it'd once been. Of course, it remained to be seen if the PRT could hold onto their prisoners. While he wasn't keen on having his beauty sleep disrupted, he could appreciate why Piggot had called upon him to stand guard. He was tough, and he could fly. His biology meant that a lack of sleep didn't bother him. He was also the oldest of the wards and the leader so naturally, if there was any member of the wards to be called upon, it should be him.

Vista had gone out more than an hour ago with Miss Militia. He hadn't been happy about that. Vista was the youngest, but she was also dedicated and a consumate professional, and she was the best choice for enabling the vehicle to make it to its destination. Hopefully the fast departure meant that the empire wouldn't have time to figure out that their star cape was already gone. There was also a rumour that Victor and Othala were being given a deal to change sides. that didn't sit well with Carlos, but he understood the necessity of it. More capes meant more safety, and Othala's power was big league stuff.

Carlos' earpiece came to life. "Attention all personnel. The package is being deployed. Operation scattershot is now underway."

Carlos stood a little straighter. The next twenty minutes would be the critical time. The empire would not want to engage too close to the PRT, but neither would they want to let the vehicles get too far away lest they lose track of their quarry.

~~JH~~

Battery stared dispassionately at the young Nazi supervillain.

"I'll deal," said Victor reluctantly.

"Tell me everything you know about the empire," came the tinny voice of the Director. Victor began explaining.

With each word that came out of his mouth, Rune slouched a little further. This demonstration both had the effect of breaking Rune, and also allowed them to gauge the accuracy of Victor's information.

"I can't believe," she said miserably. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"The empire's just another gang," said Battery. She tried to be gentle. She tried to inflect her voice with the appropriate amount of sympathy, but it was hard. The truth was, she was ecstatic. Hookwolf was dead. That monster had killed more than his fair share of innocent people over the years, and his continued freedom was a sore spot for every member of the Protectorate ENE. "I know Kaiser likes to pretend it's different, but it's still all built on drugs and guns and extortion. Have you ever thought of what Brockton Bay would actually look like if Kaiser were in charge?"

"I don't want to talk about this. You can't keep me here. The others will come and get us." She glanced at the monitor where Victor was openly betraying the empire. "They'll come and get me."

"Who's going to come get you, Rune? asked Battery in that faux voice of conciliation. "The Director has already shipped out Othala. Victor's en route. Stormtiger is being collected as we speak. He's not being offered a deal. You understand that, don't you? His crimes are too severe. You have a second chance here. We don't give out third chances."

"There's still Kaiser, and Hookwolf-"

Battery pulled a photo out of her folio and slid it across the table. "Hookwolf and his gang went to go find the new cape this evening. They broke the unwritten rules. They went to her dad's house." Battery let her stare open-mouthed at the gruesome photos. "Hookwolf murdered the new cape's dad. The new cape - she didn't take it very well."

"I don't understand." Rune's voice was faint. Her eyes were trying to look anywhere but the photos. "He can't be dead. He's too powerful. You're lying."

Battery put a picture of what remained of Cricket. "The empire wanted you to confront this new cape too, didn't they? That's how you got injured in the first place. This," Battery stabbed her finger down on the image of Cricket's vacant llifeless gaze, "could have been you."

Rune started to cry. She was tired, and she still hadn't fully healed from the bullet wounds. "They'll kill me."

"If you stayed here, then yes. That's why we have to move you to another city."

"And my family?"

"They would have to come as well. That or they could relinquish custody to the state. The only other option is juvenil detention. Because of the nature of your power, you would have to wear a shock collar at all times, and your hands would have to remain encased in tinker gloves. They may also decide to use pharmaceuticals to help keep you docile."

Her tears were falling freely now. "No, it can't be like that. We were just trying to clean up the city. This isn't how it's supposed to go."

Battery sat back and waited. It was only a matter of time. In the background, Victor continued to rattle off a littany of names and details of the various members of Kaiser's organization.

"Okay," she whispered.

"You'll have to turn over evidence just like Victor. It's the only way we can be sure you can't go back to the empire."

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Where - where will I end up?"

"We're not monsters," said Battery gently. "You will be involved in that discussion. But you're going to have to get used to working with non-whites. There will likely be some mandatory therapy and community service as well."

Rune closed her eyes. "I'll do it."

In an adjacent room, the PRT officers observing the interview got to work preparing the paperwork.

"Start by telling me everything you know about the empire."