Age of Mystery [Worm/Fate]

As I went from rooftop to rooftop I couldn’t stop a smile from stretching across my face. Each stake that burst forth from a surface was a reminder that this was real, that for the first time in 2 years I had something I could truly consider mine.

I was a parahuman, someone with powers far beyond what a normal person could even dream of. This was something that Emma could never take from me, it was mine and would always be mine. That alone filled me with such joy I couldn’t feel the winter chill always present this time of year.

My power was… odd to say the least. I read on PHO that capes have a natural understanding of their powers, something I lack. I knew how to use it but beyond that… Well there was a reason it took me almost 2 months to go out and patrol. The memory of hitting myself in the face with my own stake still made me blush. Thank god for brute ratings I guess.

Over the next half hour I wandered around the docks. For the supposed cesspit of crime everyone said it was, the place was remarkably unremarkable. No back alley drug deals, no kidnappings, not even a mugging.

I was starting to feel really stupid, of course it wasn’t that easy. I knew I wouldn’t just stumble across a fight, cape or otherwise. It wasn’t like I had ever gotten into one and I had lived in the docks my whole life. So as the last stop before I would go back home in disappointment I decided to stop by Hasper’s.

A well known health clinic, Hasper’s was famous for their cheap treatments and being willing to care for any patient, regardless of race, gender, or legal status. If you couldn’t afford the hospital, you went to Hasper’s. So long as you didn’t start trouble, you wouldn’t find any.

Places like this would only work if they were truly neutral. For the moment they showed a preference towards one side or another they would be attacked and destroyed in an instant.

As I approached something caught my eye. Little more than two blocks away was a group of shaved white heads. My blood went cold as I realized what was going on, Empire attack.

The Empire 88, Brockton Bay’s own group of neo nazi scumbags. They had more capes than the local Protectorate, more gangers than the PRT, and if the rumors were true more than one politician. Granted, a lot of that was hearsay on PHO. Really, a gang with government backing? Even in the bay, that was a bit ridiculous.

I snapped back to the present when the crowd below started moving. Away from Hasper’s, thank god, but a group that large wasn’t going to do anything good. Looks like I’m not going home just yet.

Keeping to the shadows, I stalked the crowd of nazis. Even in a city like Brockton Bay people almost never remembered to look up. But they could still hear, and my power wasn’t all that quiet. The first time I jumped to a new roof the Ca-chunk of my stakes growing made several members stop and look around for a source. After that I made sure to only jump when they were at the edge of my sight. At that range my power's noise should blend into the constant buzz of the city.

The trip took about half an hour, give or take. There were a few times I almost lost the group in the labyrinth of alleyways and back streets, but I managed to keep up.

Now a large, dilapidated warehouse on the edge of the docks loomed before me. It had maybe three intact windows, vines climbing walls in varying shades of lively green and depressing gray. Despite that the group headed inside without hesitation. Whatever was going on wasn’t anything new to them, apparently.

As the last skinhead entered the place, I stopped a few streets away.

Something was off, but it took me a second to figure out what. It’s too clean. For a supposedly abandoned building it was in far too good shape. No holes in the walls? Both doors still intact? On closer inspection, even those vines didn’t look natural. They were too uniform, too neat and tidy to have just grown by themselves. Tiny details that would only stick out to a Docks native showed that this wasn’t just a place some E88 bastards went to have a good time. This was a well maintained hideout for the gang.

A dog fighting ring? No. Too quiet, and too close to Carian territory. With Bitch, or Hellhound, whatever her name was, joining up they had actually managed to push the Empire back in the past months, and one of the few things known about the Carian cape was her hate of the bloodsport. Even the dumbest of the neo nazi brigade wouldn’t be so eager to push such a dangerous cape’s buttons.

What else? I cursed my lack of information often, but seriously. All these powers and I couldn’t get a single thinker rating beyond enhanced senses? Shaking off the thought I took another look at the E88 warehouse.

Just in time to catch a glimpse of an unnaturally pale man entering the place. Only one man in the city looked like that. I tried to calm myself, breathing deeply and telling myself that there was no way I could be that unlucky. The chances of encountering a cape on my first night out were astronomically low, it wasn’t like they just showed up to every place the empire owned. I had to have been seeing things.

But when I finally calmed my breathing and could truly use my enhanced senses, what I heard confirmed my worst fears.

The noise of whatever was going on in the warehouse made it almost impossible to make out specific conversations but I managed to pick out a few words here and there. Most were irrelevant but one made blood freeze in my veins.

“...Alabaster…”

Alabaster, the E88’s time looping brute. One of the most durable capes on the planet, so much that he has survived battles with Behemoth and Leviathan multiple times. It didn’t matter that his body was just as fragile as a normal person, as any damage he took would be reset a moment later. He might not have been a powerhouse like Hookwolf or the Valkyrie twins but his sheer endurance made him hard for most capes to deal with.

My breaths came in quick hot bursts as I forced myself to calm down. This was still okay. Nobody had seen me yet. I could just leave, call the PRT and tell them about the warehouse. I didn’t need to fight him at all.

Finally my heart started to slow down to a more reasonable pace. The knowledge that I didn’t need to fight against an experienced cape on my first night relaxed me far more than I would ever admit. I was an idiot. Two months wasn’t nearly enough for me to actually fight. My shaker power still took way too long for me to use in a real fight.

Just before I can use my power to launch myself to another roof and begin my walk back home in shame, a thought freezes me in my tracks. I had been trying to come up with a reason for why an empire cape would show up to some random E88 warehouse. It just didn’t make sense for me to stumble across someone like that on my first damn night. When I finally came up with a reason it changed everything.

Initiation.

It was accepted fact that potential E88 members were expected to pass a trial in order to join the gang. A test always supervised by at least one cape. A challenge that ended when they killed a member of one minority or another.

A lump formed in my throat, if I was right, then if I left… People would die.

People would die because of me.

My choice was made for me. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t let someone die when I could stop it. I created a field as fast as I could and launched myself high onto the building's wall. The thump of loud music was painful to my enhanced hearing, but I continued to climb. Each time I needed a hand hold I created one with my power. No need to worry about making noise, the music would drown it out anyway. I hope.

The nerve-racking climb lasted nearly a minute, but I was finally able to slip inside the warehouse through a broken window. It let me onto a thin metal walkway that stretched around the perimeter. The thing made a horrifying creek everytime I shifted my weight around, but gave me an amazing vantage to look over the crowd of bald white heads. They didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, just milling around smoking some kind of drug, dancing, and talking.

I scanned over and over again for where the hostages might be. A doorway, a cage, anything that could be used to trap some poor soul. Yet I found nothing.

Again and again I circled the walkway, fully exploiting my enhanced sight to inspect every corner of the floor below me. But there was nothing. No hidden cages, no trapdoors, not a single damn thing that might lead me to where the hostages could be.

It didn’t make sense. If this was an initiation…

Wait.

Reviewing everything I had seen, from when I stumbled across the group to now, a humiliating realization struck me. I had been a fucking moron. There were no hostages, because this wasn’t an initiation at all. It was just a goddamn party. Alabaster’s power didn’t leave him much of a secret identity, so of course he’d show up to a party in costume. All the effort I went to infiltrate this place, risking being caught and having who knows what done to me, and all because I couldn’t be bothered to think things through.

I hate it when Lisa is right.

Shaking my head I dejectedly made the slow, humiliating journey back to the window I first came in through. This entire thing was just a massive waste of time. Hostages were one thing but no way in hell was I gonna get into a fight over a fucking party of all things.

Reaching the window I prepared to vault out, left hand resting on the splintered, rotting wood of the frame. Then…

A deafening bang. A flash of light from the corner of my vision. White hot agony lancing through my right hand and sending me tumbling backwards. Falling off the walkway, I plummeted to the concrete bellow. Ever hear about how time slows down when you’re stressed? That being in scary situations can make a second seem like an eternity?

Well apparently that is a lot less true than you’d think as I didn’t even have time to really process what was happening before I hit the ground with a loud crack. Thankfully not my bones shattering like a normal person, it was the crack of the floor shattering underneath me. My new body was far more durable than any concrete, at least when it came to blunt force.

A groan of not quite pain escaped my lips. Even if I wasn’t all that hurt by my impromptu dive, it still wasn’t all that pleasant. I didn’t have long to wallow in misery, as a voice I easily recognised from various recordings of cape fights rang throughout the warehouse.

“Have to say, didn’t think there would be someone stupid enough to fuck with this place. But I guess that's just what I should expect from a newbie.”

As I unsteadily took to my feet, the alien form of alabaster made his way through the crowd to stand in front of me. In his hand was a silver gun that I didn’t recognise, whatever it was had to be damn powerful, since my right hand now had a chunk taken out of it. Crimson fluid stained my leathers and I already knew that would take hours before it would look clean again.

Damn it, this fucking hurts. Keeping my eyes on the inhuman man before me I cradled my bleeding hand to my chest. He continued speaking, but I didn’t pay him much attention, more focused on the strange gun whose loud retort had sent all the gangers running out of the building. It was a miracle nobody got trampled in the chaotic stampede.

Whatever that thing was, whether it was tinker tech or just a really powerful mundane gun, it was dangerous, and that meant it had to go. Steady breathing, focus. Just like practice. Once the fight started I wouldn’t get a chance like this again. I had to make the first move.

Alabaster was still talking, well ranting really. I suppose I should be grateful for that. He could have just shot me, or called his goons back in for backup. Instead he was still just going off at me. “Fucking ruining my fun, making me scare off the boys. All for a fucking newbie. Don’t even have the decency to die, fucking brutes. You probably didn’t even feel that did you? Not like me. Lucky bitch.”

Honestly, I was impressed he could even tell I was a girl. My costume of black and dark blue leathers with white highlights running along the edges didn’t exactly scream femininity, and it wasn’t like my body gave any clues. Androgynous at best, the traitorous little part of me whispered.

Didn’t expect the brute hate though, that wasn’t on his wiki. Though I guess it made a bit of sense. For all that the pale nazi was almost immortal he still felt the pain of every wound. Had to be a little bitter about people who could just take it without a scratch, even when I wasn’t one. Not that I really cared all that much, he was a nazi after all.

Apparently this guy really liked the sound of his own voice as he was still ranting about how I had ‘ruined his fun’ and how he would ‘make me wish I was never born. Which to be fair would probably have scared me, if I wasn’t so absolutely done with this shit.

I had a shit day at school, got into a fight with dad, Lisa couldn’t meet, wandered around town for hours without finding so much as a mugging to stop, and when I finally found something it turned out to just be a GOD DAMN PARTY! At this point my patience was completely out and I had not a single fuck left to give about whatever threats this racist asshole was spewing.

So in the middle of another line about what he was gonna do to me I moved. Using the field I had been creating this entire time I formed a spear out of the concrete floor. The surprise twisting the nazis face was wonderful, my spear thrusting through his right arm only slightly less satisfying to me. It quickly broke in half, leaving one part in my hand and the other impaled in his. The half I held crumbled almost instantly but I expected that. The concrete here was flimsy so I couldn’t make a decent weapon for close range. Good thing I didn’t want to fight up close anyway!

“Damn you, you fucking SLUT!” he leapt back, ripping the remains of my first spear from his hand . I quickly replaced it with another as he flickered back to perfect health. Just cause I didn’t plan on fighting up close didn’t mean I shouldn’t prepare for it. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. Just like Lisa said.

Alabaster's gun whipped up and fired, sending me flying backwards as a hole was blown in my left shoulder. God damn it. He flickered again, pulling the trigger once more and taking me by surprise when it fired without need to reload.

So his ammo resets, lovely. No time to fuck around, I barely dodge his next three shots. The first hit the floor with a small explosion of dust and shards of rock, the second hit the wall showering us in splinters, and the third I sent wide by growing a stake from the ground beneath his feet.

It went on like this for a while. He fired, and I either dodged or made him miss by fucking with his footwork. To an outsider it would look like he had me on the ropes. That I was barely hanging on as he nearly hit me with several shots. But that couldn’t be further from the truth, for the longer the fight went on the better my control got.

With a small grin I send three strakes to impale his chest. His gun clattered to the floor as he got sent flying backwards. When he flicked and reappeared to the side I sent another two into his legs. Howls of pain filled the warehouse before Alabaster flickered and was restored to perfect health. He lunged for his silver weapon but I easily stopped that with a thin needle which sprouted from the floor and skewered his hand. Curses filled the ever shrinking room, each round of strikes and recovery filling the warehouse every so slightly. Soon there was less than half the original space left, the rest being taken up by the walls and stakes I created.

Once again I sent a volley of stakes to impale him, however he had learned and twisted to slip in between them. Each time I would send a new volley only for him to dodge or reset and continue towards me. Inch by inch he grew closer and I slowly but surely ran out of space. He was almost on top of me, and I had nowhere to run. I might have been stronger but that didn’t matter as slowly I would run out of stamina and he would win. There was nothing I could do.

That's what you think, right? But Alabaster had forgotten about one critical detail. The spear that I still held in my intact hand. The spear was just long enough to send him staggering backward a few steps when I trust the blunted tip into his chest.

“Bwah?!” He gasped, overcome by surprise as the sudden impact made him reset on instinct. Right into the cage of stakes I had been constructing this whole time! I raised a circle of concrete around him, blocking off all the gaps in the cage and trapping him inside a perfect cylindrical prison. And the gun that gave me so much trouble? Right where he had dropped it after he was hit by the first volley of stakes. If he had enough time to think he would have made sure to grab it instead of charging it like a moron, but that was exactly why I didn’t let him think.

I tuned out his howls of rage and slowly made my way to the warehouse door. I’d need to hurry if I wanted to get out of here before the PRT showed up, I did not want my first interaction with them to be as an exhausted and bloody mess. Almost half my hand was missing, my shoulder was still oozing all over my costume and shards of shrapnel had torn large scratches into my legs.

Can’t make it home like this. Reluctantly I reached into the reinforced satchel that Lisa had talked me into adding to my costume. More than anything this is why I couldn’t meet with the PRT, because if I did then they would ask some very uncomfortable questions. Worse, I wouldn't even be able to blame them, who wouldn’t be concerned about how a teenager got their hands on blood bags.

Grimacing, I slowly began to fill my mouth with the disgustingly metallic fluid. Even as my wounds healed I cursed this part of my powers, why couldn’t I have normal regen power? Why did it have to make me into a storybook vampire?! I only consumed the absolute minimum needed to heal my legs before throwing the revolting thing to the ground and beginning the journey back to my house. I was done being a hero tonight. It was time to rest, maybe I would have better luck tomorrow when I talked to Lisa.

It took almost an hour to get home, as I didn’t want to risk jumping roofs with my injuries. One wrong move and I would have even more bruises in the mourning. Or worse

When I made it to the house I used my stepping stone trick to climb up and through my bedroom window, careful to make as little sound as I could else I wake Dad.

I was incredibly thankful as I flopped down bonelessly onto my bed. I'd have to take care of the holes in my hand and shoulder come morning but at the moment all I wanted was to sleep for as long as I could get away with. Maybe I could convince Dad that I was sick and skip school?

My last thoughts before I fell asleep were of Lisa. The girl who pulled me out of that pit, and who helped me train to not kill myself with these strange powers. I didn’t know much about her, I realized. Where did she go to school? What kind of food did she like? Did she have any friends? She had helped me so much but I didn’t even know such simple things. I promised myself to fix that the next time I saw her.

I had so many regrets already, I wouldn’t let Lisa become one of them.

 

“Well, all things considered, that could have gone a lot worse.” Lisa said from her perch. We met up shortly after Dad left for work after I convinced him to let me stay home sick. We’d met up about a block from Hasper’s, since it was the only safe place for a law-abiding young girl to wait for any length of time in the docks.

After a quick walk to the rundown Denny's a little bit away we made ourselves comfortable on the mostly undamaged building's roof. It had closed before I had even been born, and nobody ever had the money or motivation to replace it with something else. On the bright side it was such an old building that none of the gangs were willing to set up shop there. Too obvious a spot for it to be any good, Lisa said. To be fair, I had seen one independent check it out in a collection of rags that only fit the vaguest definition of a costume that marked them as a new cape, so she was probably right.

According to Lisa that wasn’t rare, new capes were constantly showing up in the bay thanks to the gangs. Most didn’t even make it a week before being snapped up by either the PRT or Carian. The E88 used to have a good chance of picking up any trigger that met their standards, but turns out that most people hate nazi’s, even if they aren’t part of any minorities. Yay for allies, I guess.

Turns out they never actually had very good luck with recruiting at all. It was all revealed about a year back to have been propaganda to hide their overseas connections. Not that it mattered much anymore, Gesellschaft ditched the Empire after Allfather’s death years before. Apparently they hadn’t taken kindly to Kaiser’s willingness to betray his own family.

This all meant that the once explosive growth of the E88 had slowed and steadily reversed until they were essentially no longer a player at all. However while they weren’t growing any larger, they still had too many parahumans to be easily taken down. Plus if Lisa was right they also had at least one politician on their payroll, maybe more.

I wanted to dismiss her accusations as ridiculous, but my gut told me that it was the simple truth. The PRT wouldn’t let a gang of actual nazi’s run around unless something was protecting them.

Whether Lisa’s theory was right or not didn’t really matter right now.We were here to talk about the shitshow that was my first night out, after all.
“How. How could it have been worse?! And don’t say that I could have died, you know that’s not what I mean.” The blonde beauty closed her mouth, an amused grin stretching across her annoyingly round face. She was an absolute ass. She was also my best, and only, friend.

Ever since that day when she pulled me out of the pit we had met up several times a week. Always at this roof, and almost always in the same positions we occupied now. With me sitting on a gutted radiator and her on the raised lip of the segmented roof. For whatever reason this place was built with one section of the roof lower than the rest, which made for a convenient place to sit and talk.

“Well, for one Alabaster could have escaped after you left.” She halted my objection with a raised finger, “Yeah you trapped him but the concrete there is shit, you even admitted that. It’s not that absurd that he could have busted out before the PRT arrived.” I silently stewed.

She was right of course, leaving him in a cage I knew was made of shitty material was stupid. But meeting with the PRT as I was back then would have been even worse. No one would believe I was a hero when I’m carrying around bags of blood.

Lisa stared at me, unimpressed. “Look I know you don’t like that part of your powers but it's a valuable tool. You’re alone out there so you’re gonna take a lot of hits. That Brute power you have isn’t good enough for you to throw away your only way of healing Taylor.” Her stern words made me wince. Damn but I hate when she’s right.

We had this argument at least five times that I could remember, but every time I had to use that damn power it was brought up as Lisa explained over and over again how much I needed it. I knew she was right, it was obvious from the first time she explained it to me, but something in me writhed at the thought of accepting that. Still I wasn’t strong enough to hold back like this so I shook my head free of those thoughts and motioned Lisa on in her breakdown of my nightly activities.

“The gangers could have stuck around, it was a miracle that they all ran away. You won’t always be that lucky, risks like that are what get capes killed.” Again she was right, for all that the fight hadn’t been my plan it was still mostly my fault. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure out that it wasn’t an initiation. I had let my assumptions blind me to the obvious, another of Lisa’s warnings that I had forgotten. Looking back on it, Alabaster couldn’t have seen me until I was making my way to the window. No way he would wait to shoot me down if he knew I was there earlier. The entire fight could have been avoided if I hadn’t been blinded by assumptions and got out of there after the first loop of the warehouse.

I almost didn’t notice when Lisa stood up from her seat, too lost in self-derision. The warm hug of the only person I really considered a friend put a stop to my spiraling as she took a new seat beside me on the radiator. Melting into her soothing embrace I allowed her to run her calloused fingers through my hair.

“Still, you did a good job out there Taylor.” Her voice became kind and comforting as she stroked me. Easing the ache of my sore muscles and still healing wounds. “The way you handled that nazi bastard was clever, using his own resets to trap him was ingenious. Not many capes can think that clearly in a fight.” Her smile was like a fox, filled with smugness and yet caring in equal measure. I could look at that smile for hours.

I don’t know what her power told her, but whatever it was made Lisa flush as bright as a tomato. She quickly ended her hug and jumped off the radiator, keeping her face from me to hide the blush I knew was still very visible on her pale face.

“Anyway, let's go over what's been happening, okay Taylor? Your first night out wasn’t the only thing that happened after all.” Her embarrassment brought a small smile to my face. Strange how easy it was to smile around her. Like her very presence soothed me in a way I hadn’t felt since…

Once again she seemed to know what I was thinking as her expression morphed into a complicated mix of emotions I could only guess at. It wasn’t there for long however, as she quickly resumed her summary of everything else that happened last night.

“So, biggest thing was the PRT raid against the E88.” My raised brow only got a smirk from her. I wouldn’t say the PRT never attacked the Empire, but it was rare. Mostly they were on the defensive, only acting when the bastards were pushing to expand their territory. “Apparently one of the E88’s politicians got sloppy when covering his tracks, the dumbass left a trail obvious enough for them to get a warrant and raid his place. If my sources are right they found enough there that even the best lawyer won’t save him from jail time.”

The news left me conflicted. On one hand I was ecstatic the heroes had managed to bring the Empire plant to justice, it reassured me that they were doing all they could to help this city. On the other, it proved beyond any doubt that the E88 had the political connections Lisa suspected they did.

“Maybe he was the only one?” I said weakly, not really believing my own words but was it really too much to ask for things to be that easy once in a while?. All that prompted from my blonde friend was a sad smile and a shake of her head.

“No way. The PRT wouldn’t have been so careful if he was the only Empire plant they had suspicions of. They did it this way to make damn sure that the others couldn’t make a fuss.” I could only sigh in defeat. The spark of hope I had desperately kept alive all this time got snuffed out by the cruel reality of how corrupt the local politicians were. No wonder the Docks had been left to rot, it was a minority hub after all. Of course they would want it to be shit, those racist, homophobic, fucking, Bigot-

“Anyway, Carian made a move as well.” The sudden change in topic pulled me out of the new spiral I had been about to fall down. Lisa rarely talked about Carian. She knew I wasn’t comfortable talking about the group, so she limited herself to telling me that she had information before letting me decide if I was willing to hear it. Normally I would ignore it as most of the stuff wouldn’t matter to me, but if Lisa was calling attention to it so clearly it had to be important. So I reluctantly bit the bullet.

“Well? What did they do?” Lisa preened, flaunting her chest in a way that I couldn’t quite tell if it was intentional or not. Either way it was very distracting.

She fanned her face with her hand as she made an exaggerated noise of happiness, “I’m so glad you asked, Taylor dear. Turns out Carian found a Merchant drug house on the edge of their territory again and they weren’t happy.” The statement drew a wince from me, the only gang in the city other than Carian and E88 was the Archer’s Bridge Merchants. Back when Carian was barely a gang at all, the Merchants basically ruled the docks. Not because of power but simply because nobody else wanted them. Then the little group of misfits got a mysterious new leader, chased Chorus out, and stomped the Merchants to pieces in a matter of weeks. Now all that was left was a handful of drug labs and the occasional dealer. Whenever those popped up in Carian territory there was always hell to pay.

With a knot in my throat I barely squeaked out, “D-did anyone die?” They’d always held back before but when parahumans were involved…

Lisa gave me a weird look before realization blossomed on her face, which was quickly replaced by exasperation and fond annoyance. “Come on Taylor, how many times do I have to tell you? Carian doesn’t kill. Even if they wanted to, which is doubtful, they can’t afford the kind of kick back that would bring. They are already the gang the PRT tries to hit most often, they’d have to be absolute morons to kill anyone.” She was right about this not being the first time we’d discussed their murder free rapsheet, but still I found it hard to believe her.

Lisa’s reason for defending Carian was obvious. She was a card carrying member, after all, or at least she would be if they had cards. One half of the thinkers that made it so hard for the PRT to actually do any damage to the gang despite their constant attempts.

Yeah, my only friend was a gang member. If I’d met her in any other circumstance I’d definitely have tried to take her down. But even with her… less than legal occupation I trusted her. Because I knew that she wasn’t a bad person, I had faith that she wasn’t just leading me on to get me into the gang. She had only ever brought up the idea of joining once, and after I rejected the idea she dropped it and that sort of talk hadn’t come up since. For all the paranoid part of my mind screamed at me that she would use and abandon me, I trusted her. Fuck. What does that say about me?

But in the end how could I not trust her, when the first time she ever talked to me she’d laid out everything about her. Her powers, her allegiance, her name, all because she didn’t want me to give up. So I gave her a chance, and let myself get close to her. A choice that I don’t regret.

The rest of our conversation passed in a blur of minor information. Assault and battery were taking a temporary leave of absence for a few weeks due to some kind of family issue. Clockblocker had managed to get his console duty extended by falling asleep halfway through. That and a hundred other tiny events that happened in the three days since we had last met.

In the end we talked until a little after 2:00, making our way back to Haspers once we finished. We then separated. Lisa headed to the north end of the docks on her way to the trainyards, the center of Carian's power, while I made my way back home.

Dad called at 4:00 and told me he would be working late. So late that it wouldn’t be safe for him to drive home, meaning he would stay at the office overnight. Not surprising, he’d been doing that more and more since the pit, apparently deciding that it would be his personal mission to clean up as much of the docs as he could.

When I looked at what he accomplished I was amazed. In a matter of months he restructured the DWA from a group of nearly unemployed workers desperate for a job into a team that could make the gangs wary of expanding. There were never really any fights, the docks weren’t valuable enough for that, but just the presence of nightly patrols made a huge difference. It meant that for a slim part of the docks there was someone who looked out for the people. The area was tiny, but it was there.

How did he fund it? By partnering with some company called LidsEye, they wanted a safe place to make a building near water for whatever reason. To that end they were apparently more than happy to pay for protection around that small part of the docs.

Anyway, all of that meant Dad's days were even more busy. However whenever I did see him he was so happy about making a difference I couldn’t bring myself to complain. Seeing the clean walls, the buildings slowly being repaired, how could I object when he was doing so much good? So I kept quiet, even as Dad spent more and more time at his work.

This is stupid. I shook my head and went to grab my costume. I had been trying to find time to do something for a while, but I never managed to get a good moment. Until now. Slipping into my newly cleaned costume I prepared for my first foray into Carian territory.

Trusting Lisa was not the same as trusting Carian however. For all that Lisa defended the group, they were still a gang. My current theory was that she was being led on. Her higher ups would only show her the good parts of their territory, like Radio’s concerts or Bitches dog shelters. Stuff that would make them out to be victims instead of criminals. Her power would make that hard, but not impossible. For all that Lisa liked to boast about being the best Thinker on the east coast she could still be tricked.

So I had made a plan about a month after we met, once I debuted I would infiltrate the trainyard and see what I can find. If I was lucky everything Lisa said would be true and Carian would turn out to be nothing more than a misunderstood group of victims made into criminals by corrupt politicians. But if I was right and they were manipulating her, if they were using my only friend…

Well I already lost my best friend once, I would not let it happen again. One way or another I was going to find some answers.

 

Chapter 3: Dolls, dogs, and roadkill.


As I walked down the streets of my neighborhood, costume concealed by a thin gray cloak Lisa bought for me shortly after we met, I couldn't help but lose myself in the winter air.

Ever since the pit I only truly felt comfortable outside. After the upgrades Dad installed when I finally returned home, I knew it was the safest place in the Docks, aside from the DWA building. Despite that, whenever I was indoors I couldn't stop shaking. After the first few nights, I took to sleeping on the roof, eventually moving to the balcony once Dad added it to my room. Being inside sent my heart racing, like at any moment I would be back in that dark, bloody place. Expected to kill if I didn’t want to die, being thrust onto that rusty-.

I slapped myself, the sting banishing thoughts of the moment I got my powers. It doesn’t matter. I’m safe. I’m a hero, and nothing will ever do that to me ever again! The words came easily, as I brandished them once more against the sick beast of my memories of that disgusting night.

During my introspection I’d meandered out of my neighborhood and now I was approaching the Trainyard. Despite its name, it encompassed far more than just train tracks. At first it was just that, the area where goods arrived to be shipped off, but over years of the Bay's decline more and more neighborhoods started to be considered part of ‘the Trainyard.’ A similar thing had happened to the Docks. Originally just the physical port and the facilities devoted to providing for it, now the name refers to one of the four main sections of the city: the Docks, the Trainyard, the Boardwalk, and Downtown. While there were many differences, like The Trainyard being the most crime ridden, and Downtown being home to all the wealthy people, the terms truly referred to which group controlled an area. The DWA in the Docks, the E88 Downtown, the PRT on the Boardwalk, and Carian in the Trainyard.

When I crossed into Carian’s territory it felt- well, it felt like any other street. I was expecting… I don’t really know, maybe some kind of run down, gothic waste where crime and debauchery ran rampant? What I got was just… an ordinary street. The only thing noteworthy would be that it was cleaner than a typical street in the Docks.

A trend which remained even as I went deeper into the heart of Carian’s power. It was all so… normal. Like it wasn’t controlled by a gang at all. Was Lisa right? Were the members of Carian even villains at all? Sure they fought the PRT, but only when the heroes attacked first. Supposedly they produced drugs, but everyone I saw seemed perfectly sober and polite.

Despite that, I kept my head on a swivel. The place was cleaner than I expected, and the people I ran into seemed okay, but there was one thing that kept my heart thundering in my ears. The entire place was just so… empty.

I had been walking around the Trainyard for almost an hour, but I hadn’t seen more than a dozen people. Even with how large the Trainyard was, I expected to find more. Not even the Docks were this devoid of life, except within the Boat Graveyard. Reluctantly, I swallowed my nerves and prepared to ask the next person I found where everyone was.

It was risky, of course. Doing so would mark me as an outsider, and the person I ask could be a gang member. While Carian technically had colors, blue and white, so few members of the gang actually wore them that it was more a formality than a sign of their allegiance. Sometimes you have to take the risk.

When I finally came across another person, I couldn’t help but freeze up. He was a hispanic man in what was quite possibly the most flamboyant outfit I had ever seen. Seriously, I don’t think I had seen so many rainbows at once, outside of the one time my dad took me to the pride parade when I was six. His shirt was rainbow, his hair was rainbow, his glasses were rainbow, his shorts were rainbow, he even had tattoos of… Wait no, that's a leprechaun.

Why on earth would anyone ever wear that willingly. I barely had any kind of fashion sense but even I knew that there was such a thing as too many colors. This guy crossed the line with the rainbow glasses, and left the ground with the rest of his ensemble.They are pretty cool though.

By the time I recovered from my bluescreen, the man had nearly passed by. “Uh, excuse me, sir?” He stopped about a few feet behind me, his muscles rippling on his neck as he looked over his shoulder.

“Oh! Sorry young lady, guess I was just a bit lost in my thoughts.” He turned to face me fully, and in one continuous motion lifted his hat and bowed to me. “My name’s Clark, what's yours?” He was clumsy, breath stinking of some drug I couldn’t recognize, but he still did his best to be polite. It was sweet, and I couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping when he dropped his hat midway through his bow. On an instinct I didn’t know I had, I made a stake to catch his hat before it could hit the ground.

Thankfully he didn’t react outside momentary surprise, quickly picking up his hat from its perch and smiling at me. He had a nice smile. Sure it wasn’t the prettiest, but it was still full of kindness and sincerity. It was so far from my image of a druggie that the whiplash left me stunned for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Eh, hu hmm.” I coughed, the awkward moment coating my cheeks with red. Still I had answers to find and I couldn’t just run away at the first screw up. “So, um Mr. Clark,” He raised a rainbow gloved hand to stop me, shaking his head.

“Just call me Clark. Mr. makes me sound old, you know? I’m only 32, hardly a Mr.”

I didn’t really get it, but I supposed that didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I had any reason to not call him by name.

“Judging by your outfit, I assume you’re here for cape stuff, right?”

I froze like a deer in headlights. How did he- god damn it. Why did I ever think that a cloak was enough for me to blend in. The hell do I do?! Druggie or not I couldn’t just knock him out. Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t done anything to warrant something like that, I just didn’t have any way to safely put him down. Dad made damn sure I knew how to defend myself after the pit, so I was well aware of how much damage a knockout would do to a person. And I couldn’t just trap him like with Alabaster. With how few people were around there was a real chance that he would be left in there for days if he got unlucky. My panic grew and grew as I went through everything I could think of, dismissing each plan as too dangerous to use against a normal. It wasn’t until a firm hand landed on my shoulder in a comforting grip that I realized that I was hyperventilating.

Clark had come closer while I had been lost in panic, his face a mix of concern and light humor. “Hey, don’t worry young miss, I can tell you’re new round here.” My breath caught again. He knew I wasn’t a Carian cape. Damn, there goes that plan. He frowned, brow scrunching up in confusion before realization passed over it and he snapped his fingers. “Of course! You don’t know where it is.”

What? Where what is?! My mouth flapped soundlessly. Whatever conclusion he got to, clearly it wasn’t that I was an enemy cape as he kept smiling and seemed to be in an even better mood than before. “What are you-?”

“No need to be embarrassed, young miss. Everyone gets lost on their first time.” He cut me off, hand releasing my shoulder to wave around. “Come on now, I’ll take you to it!” With that he grabbed my hand and started dragging me away, ignoring my spluttered questions until I gave up. Whatever was going on, he was leading me somewhere, and wherever that is might just get me some answers to why this place was so empty.

After about half an hour of walking through backstreets and alleyways, Clark stopped in front of a three story warehouse with flashing lights and some kind of music muffled by the walls. The pulsing lights changed colors in a cycle that I couldn’t help but be fascinated by. Red, to blue, to orange, to green, to purple, back to red. Each blending perfectly into the last until they made a cycle of colors which held almost hypnotic beauty.

“Amazing, ain't it?” Clark’s voice made me realize just how long I spent staring at the lights. It had to be almost five minutes. A sudden fear bubbled up within me.

“Is it a-”

“Master effect? Nah, just really good lighting.” He waved me off, as if he’d been asked that dozens of times already. “Radio’s parties are always awesome, but the ones he throws after a successful fight are…” he makes a kissing sound, fingers curling in a motion unfamiliar to me. “The absolute best! Now come on,” he grabbed my arm again, and pulled me inside. “Don’t just stand out in the cold!”

His sheer enthusiasm brought a smile to my face once again. It was hard to believe this guy lived in gang territory. Clark was just so… happy. Far more so than anyone I had seen at Winslow, far more than anyone that wasn’t in my Dad's area of protection. A gang practically ruled this place, but here he was, laughing and smiling in true joy.

The way everything continued to defy expectations set me off balance, like the entire world shattered and I was left floating on a sea of confusion and doubt. Until one word sent waves of ice down my spine.

Radio. He said this was Radio’s party. I didn’t recognize the name, but it had to refer to a cape. Or a DJ. Could just be a stage name. Jumping to conclusions gets a lot of capes killed, Lisa taught me that. When all it takes is one unlucky hit, any assumption was a massive risk.

Breathing deeply, I felt my heartbeat slowly return to normal and I forced myself to think again.


Okay, if he is a cape then he’ll know I’m not a member. No doubt all of Carian’s capes knew each other by sight, it would be stupid if they didn’t. So what if I-

“Come on young miss! Don’t just stand there, have some fun.” Clark pushed me forward, and I stumbled, almost falling. Before I could catch my bearings, I was bombarded by ever changing sounds and colors. Crowds of people filled the warehouse, separated by tables covered in food and drink I couldn’t recognize.

My inspection halted as a swarm of dancers engulfed me. I was jostled by the countless bodies surrounding me, each person blending together in a rush of music and color. The sea of bodies pressed against me sent my stomach churning. In the chaos, my guts were pushed to their limit. Sweat flung off their bodies and hung in the air, tainting my mouth with salt. Sounds and scents all mixed together into an amalgam of sensations.

After an eternity in that prison of movement, I managed to break free of the crowds and unsteadily made my way to an empty corner. Only, when I arrived, I realized that there was a person already occupying the tiny sanctuary. Thankfully for my stomach, they gestured for me to stay with a pale hand covered in a dark fingerless glove. I couldn’t really tell if they were a boy or girl, as almost their entire body was covered in dark, baggy clothing. Hoodie, sweatpants, and gloves made up their entire appearance, a look I more than understood from my time at Winslow. The kind of outfit you wear when all you want is to be overlooked.


The figure gave me a disinterested once over before their eyes returned to the device half hidden in their hands. I leaned against the wall, just as content to avoid conversation. Now that I finally had a moment to breathe, my eyes roamed the area, examining the warehouse without the weight of that hellish crowd pressing in on me.

First thing that stood out to me was just how large the place was. Clark had pushed me before I could really take it in, but now seeing the dozens of entirely distinct crowds easily fitting within left me speechless. It had to be nearly twice as large as a regular warehouse, split into sections by towers of boxes, tables, and broken down trucks.

The groups were spread out, with large gaps between each crowd occupied by the pillars holding up the upper floors. The columns of concrete were covered in layers of blue padding, and the why was made obvious as I witnessed one particularly intoxicated woman walk right into them while making her way to one of the many buffets.

However, the one place where everyone grouped together far closer was the central area right in front of the doorway. The largest chunk of the building; Carian’s dance floor was filled with people.

The roiling mass of people held dozens of smaller clusters. All constantly moving, like schools of fish in an ocean of noise and smells. Just the thought of it sent shivers down my spine. My deep breaths must have drawn the attention of my partner in the corner, as they tilted their head before returning to their screen.

This is stupid. I slapped my face and looked closer at the smaller enclosures. Unlike the dance floor these were each inhabited by only a single group, all taking part in one activity or another.

Between two trucks there was a group of people from some European country, maybe France? They were taking turns hitting what I think was a bong, if I remembered Lisa’s lessons right. Across the room, a group of Japanese and Korean people were playing some kind of card game in a loose circle. Similar areas filled all sides of the warehouse, sections where people ate, played games, or simply just relaxed away from the chaos of the dance floor.

Along the opposite wall I spotted a staircase to the upper floors, blocked off by two figures clad in blue and white. One obviously female, her massive chest bouncing along with the music in a very distracting manner. The other a muscular goblin of a person, ripped body straining against their blue t-shirt that had no place being worn in winter.

My inspection of the warehouse was brought to a stop when a gut-wrenching noise dragged my eyes to a stage I originally overlooked. A simple thing, formed of boxes covered in some kind of glossy material, all grouped together to make a platform about a yard off the ground. On it were a pair of pitch black speakers that blended almost perfectly into the wall behind it. Further observation was cut off by a figure striding onto the stage.

While his clothes were civilian, composed of a casual white hoodie and jeans, the helmet half-covering his face made his status as a Carian cape obvious. With his hoodie sporting a simplified radio tower, it was obvious who he was.

He started to talk, and despite the distance and echo mangling his words I had a pretty good idea what his speech was about: Carian's attack on the Merchants. It was the only thing that would matter to the gang, the only thing worth celebrating recently. His wild gestures and almost manic grin didn’t exactly give me the best first impression of the Carian cape. All the exaggerated flailing formed the image of a cocky, self centered airhead. A stereotypical villain right out of a comic book.

Whatever speech he was giving didn’t last long, and soon he had taken over the stage, singing a tune I had never heard of before. I'd give him one thing, he was a pretty good singer. Then again, it wasn’t like I listened to music all that often anymore. I turned away; with how invested in singing Radio was, I doubted he was going anywhere anytime soon.

Don’t think I’m gonna learn anything else, coming to this place was stupid anyway. As I searched for an exit, my eyes landed on the figure who until now had completely slipped my mind. They had taken off their hood, revealing an androgynous face with dark rings of exhaustion encircling their eyes. Black curly hair framed their face, bringing out the pale blue of their eyes. For some strange reason I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer, and after a few awkward seconds they lifted their right hand from their lap and offered to shake.

Using my handshake, they pulled themselves to their feet, offering me a tired smile, and waving with their free hand. “Never seen you round here before.” The voice was clearly a boy’s, not just in how it sounded, but how he talked as well. “Name’s Alec, nice to meet you.” Alec’s pale eyes sparkled with mischief, though it was dulled by a haze of exhaustion and stress.

“I’m Ta- I mean…” I paused, racking my brain to think of something. Really wish I listened to Lisa right now. But luckily a thought came to mind before the moment became any more awkward. “I’m Lanius.” It wasn’t bad, for a name I pulled from my ass. Certainly better than the horror stories Lisa told me about names the PRT gave to independents.

If my stutter confused Alec he didn’t show it, simply giving my hand a quick shake before releasing it and turning. About a yard away from our hideaway, a door was camouflaged into the wall. Giving me a quick smirk, he pushed it open before gesturing me onward with a sarcastic. “M-lady”

Giggles leaked from my mouth as I stepped out into the open air, once more greeted by the welcome winter cold. Alec closed the door with a loud clang of metal striking metal as I gratefully basked in the wondrous chill. After my lungs were properly cleansed of the party's air, my attention returned to the smirking face of my black haired companion.

“Gotta say, didn’t take you for the outdoorsy type.” Heat sprouted in my face, and I whipped my head away to hide my blush, though judging by his laughter I was far from successful. His chuckles went on for a bit, but eventually he calmed down. “Hey Lanius.”

I turned back, my body tense from how different his tone was. “Yes?” Scanning his body once again, I didn’t see anything different. No weapon, no fighting stance, nothing. But his sudden shift made it impossible to lower my guard.

He sighed, black hair swinging left and right as he shook his head. “Sorry, used my work voice there.” A small smile twisted his lips upwards before his stoic persona returned. “I have a few questions I want to ask. Maybe we should go somewhere else? There's a building a bit away, got a fire escape we could climb to get onto the roof.”

Ice filled my veins. He knew. But what could I do about it?

Even if I attacked him, there were too many people around. And Radio was still inside, he would hear and be out in seconds! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I did it again, let my guard down and got kicked in the gut for it! Fighting to keep the panic off my face, I only nodded. I had to go along with him for now, it was my only option. Running wouldn’t work, there were too many people. I couldn’t fight either, for obvious reasons. All I could do was follow and hope that wherever he brought me I would have more options.

Dread bubbled in my chest as he led me away from Radio’s party. As we walked, the streets grew less and less crowded, just like they had been when I first entered the Trainyard. But it was still too early to do anything, with my luck Radio would be a mover and somehow would know if I attacked Alec. The first thing Lisa drilled into my head was the importance of never fighting unless I knew my opponent. Over and over again she told me how a cape’s career, and often life, were cut short because they picked a fight and got surprised by their opponent.

When we finally arrived at the building Alec had talked about, my heart was beating so fast I was convinced it was audible. The building was a decrepit old thing, an apartment complex that was abandoned long ago. Walls that once must have been a vibrant forest green were now faded and cracked. The fire escape Alec mentioned was so coated in rust I didn’t trust it to hold a penny, much less a person. Despite the horrendous appearance, the black-haired ganger fearlessly stepped onto the creaking metal steps, quickly making his way to the roof before looking back down at me.

“Well? Are you coming?” His carefree voice stirred a fire in my blood. Who cared if I was at a disadvantage? Who cared if this was reckless or stupid? I would not be looked down on by anyone, let alone some random ganger! Drawing on the indignation coursing through my veins, I completely ignored the pitiful metal stairs. I used my power to grow steps right out of the wall, retracting them back once I moved to the next. I rose to glare at the source of my displeasure, who had the audacity to smirk at me.

Despite being exposed to my anger, the boy showed no sign of fear or hesitation, simply smiling and pointing to the opposite side of the roof. After shooting him one last irritated look I turned to see what the ass wanted to show me. Breath caught in my throat, blood drained from my face as I realized who I now looked at. Cursing my foolishness, I almost missed the boy's departure. At this point he was far from my greatest concern, however, as before me were the two most famous Carian capes. The duo who had never been seen apart after they joined. The only two capes that had actual, reliable information on them, despite one of them only being in the gang for mere months. Together they fought back Stormtiger, Cricket, and Krieg. It was one of the few times Carian actually fought head on, and the pair behind it was right in front of me.

Parian and Bitch.

I had no time to create a field of any significant size, so I settled with the single spear I could form before they turned from their inspection of the street below. My muscles tensed in preparation for an attack by the pair, but it did not come.

Parian’s blue gothic dress was eerily still despite the winter breeze. The very picture of serene calm, a mask of a pale white doll concealing her face perfectly. At first glance her hair appeared to be a beautiful platinum blonde, but with my enhanced sight the locks were clearly artificial. A rose of white cloth rested at her throat, each fold lined with a blue so pale any normal person would struggle to see it at all. Her entire outfit was full of details like that. clearly the doll cape hadn’t abandoned her roots as a fashion designer.

Her partner was the exact opposite. For all that Radio’s costume was lackluster, it was leagues better than this. The only thing that marked Bitch as a cape at all was the dog mask; everything else was just completely mundane civilian wear. Well, that and the monstrous dog laying at her feet.

The creature had to be at least as large as its master, and while it had yet to move from its position at Bitch’s feet, the muscles straining beneath its thin fur showed it was ready to strike in a heartbeat. With its razor sharp claws, needle teeth peeking out from its lips, and armor of bone I didn’t fancy my chances. If I just had more time. But there was no point in complaining, this was my hand and I would just have to deal with it best I could.

The cool stone of my spear soothed my frayed nerves, its weight a promise. No matter what the pair before me did, I wasn't helpless, not anymore. With my newfound calm, I examined our arena. The roof beneath us groaned with our combined weight, perhaps I could bring it down? But what if there were people underneath us? The area was far too small for me to really use my mobility, but the same applied to Bitch's dog. And with how unstable the place was, she couldn’t grow it to the larger form she used against the Empire.

Unless she doesn’t care. I wanted to think Parian was better than that, that she would hold Bitch back, but I simply didn’t know.

This entire time the capes had just been staring at me, not moving an inch, until Parian sighed and brought a hand to her face in obvious annoyance. “Damn it Alec,” her wig swayed with her shaking head. “Always piling work onto the rest of us.” Her eyes peered between her splayed fingers. Acorn pools pierced into me, as if I was a frog she was about to dissect. Those cold brown orbs held no trace of concern, anger, or even arrogance. They were utterly empty of all emotion, like I wasn’t worth the energy to feel. The gaze of someone about to take care of a trivial chore; something so mundane that even the annoyance born from repetition faded into an overwhelming sense of boredom.


Her presence was overwhelming; soon my eyes were only able to focus on the expressionless mask of the former rogue. The empty void of her eyes dragged me in, forcing me to only see her. As if everything else ceased to exist before her, like the entire world had disappointed her and all of that ire was now on my head. In the background I could hear a strange buzzing noise but I couldn’t look away from the abyss of her eyes. It stretched ever deeper, seeking to swallow everything I had in one fell swoop. All consuming, all enveloping the pit went on and on and-

The sudden wet chill pressing into my hand sent me leaping back, creating three small stakes to lash out at my attacker on instinct. As my senses returned I realized what had happened, while I had been focused on Parian, Bitch’s dog snuck near me. It must have been trying to get a better angle to attack; thank god I snapped out of it in time.

“You fucker!” the older girl cried, making some kind of hand signal to the dog. I didn’t have much time to wonder before the beast slammed into me. It was surprisingly light, but the impact still sent me stumbling. Soon my arms were covered in scratches by its sharp claws, my leather being gouged away as the beast raged. Leaping backward for distance, three stakes slammed into the dog with enough force to shatter the stone forming them. It shouldn’t have done more than stagger it, yet the hulking form was sent flying to the end of the roof. How-?

Thought was cut off however, as it was back on me in an instant. Each time we clashed the roof beneath us cracked more and more, small fractures transforming into gaping fissures that forced me to constantly change position. Each time it would charge, and each time I would have to block, cracking the concrete below. With my footing ruined I would be forced to flee to a new section of roof, where the cycle started anew. Our dance went on like this, neither of us able to land any meaningful blow to the other. But it was anything but a draw, as I was quickly running out of space to move. If I didn’t do something soon I would be cornered and fall. I absent-mindedly noted the cold way I perceived my peril, as if I was an observer instead of the one fighting. It was disturbing, the way I could see how everything would turn out with not the slightest doubt.

But now wasn’t the time for introspection, for I had to change the game. I can't lose, I can't, I can't, I-

Once more, the warm body of Bitch's monster slammed into me. However, this time I didn’t leap back, instead I formed tiny stakes to enforce my footing. With how strangely light the creature was, combined with the greater leverage my new position granted me I managed to lift the beast into the air. Each second sent a burn through my muscles like the flames of Behemoth himself, trying to scorch my grip away in the agony of effort. But I kept on, lifting the hulking form of the monster over my head and hurling it into the rusted block that was once an air conditioning unit. The husk caved in with a metallic crunch, no way the beast was down for the count but It gave me a chance to do what Lisa had drilled into me over months of training.

Listen, while the specifics change all the time, there are a few strategies that apply to all parahumans of a certain type. Never let a thinker talk, never let a tinker plan, never let a brute recover. So on and so forth, but a lot of those just boil down to keep on the offensive and don’t monologue like a cartoon. However with masters it's a bit more complicated. Sure, obviously you want to separate them from their minions, take them out first blah blah blah. But there’s a problem with that, going after the master means leaving yourself open to the minion. So it’s not enough to just separate them, you have to do so while not getting them so far apart that the creature can recover before you take down the master. It’s part of what makes masters such a pain, but with your speed…

With that in mind I rocketed towards Bitch, three stakes erupting from the roof to block her escape. My spear pulled back back as I prepared to slam it into her stomach like a club when-

The roof gave way.

My head spun as I fell, my spear torn from my hand by a segment of rubble striking its shaft. How?! I should have had more time, the cracks shouldn’t have grown large enough yet, so why?! A cold stone rod stuck my face, making me clench my eyes before I grabbed it. One of the stakes I used to pin Bitch. My face contorted as the realization struck me. Damn it! I was so caught up in my offensive that I used too much stone, this entire collapse was my fault! There was no time to wallow in lament, as I needed to break my fall. I pushed off my platform, leaping from segment to segment until I could get a good look at the rubble strewn street below. My fault.

I banished those thoughts and leapt down to the largest open area. Stone chunks still littered the ground, with more falling from the sky by the second, but it was clean enough for me to land without losing my balance. Immediate crisis dealt with; I turned back to the building. Bitch had been caught by her dog, and Parian was somehow floating like a feather.

However there was no time to wonder about the strange event, as once Bitch landed on the ground her dog shot towards me. Somehow it was even faster than before; weaving through the rubble; using the fallen rocks to obscure my sight as it drew close. My head whipped around as I did everything in my power to not lose sight of the mutant dog, but it was all for naught as it managed to ambush me from behind. Somehow it had gotten me turned away from it, and that single moment of distraction was more than enough for it to pounce on me.

Before the weight had been minor, enough to wind me but not much else. However the beast somehow became far heavier since our fall, pinning me down beneath its mass with its front claw on my heart and fangs at my neck. How?! I was faster than it before. How did it change this much?! Its hot breath did NOT help me think, as each time my brain started to rebalance itself the moist air washing over me set me back to step one. Slowly but surely, however, my mind worked it out. Bitch could enhance her dogs, that was common knowledge, but with as close of a look as I was now getting one thing became painfully clear. The form I saw and read about on PHO, the form that had fought off the E88 and the Protectorate again and again, was NOT the same form that pinned me down. I didn’t know of any master that could change their minions forms into more than one type, all the one’s I knew about were limited to only one type of minion.

But now that I thought about it, Bitch gave hand signals to her dog, a master wouldn’t need that. A thrill rushed through me as I realized something that should have been obvious from the start. She’s not a master, she’s a trump! Of course she could give her dogs more than one form, all the power lending trumps had at least three powers that I knew about.

Damn it. I should have listened to Lisa. She had warned me over and over again of the risk of fighting when you didn’t know their power, but I ignored it like a fucking idiot. Assumptions get capes killed.

“That's enough Bitch.” A stern voice shattered the realm of isolated thought I had trapped my mind in. With the little movement I had I could just barely make out Parian striding over to her hulking partner. Despite her expressionless mask I could practically feel the sheer irritation radiating off her, somehow the slim form of the doll cape was far more terrifying than the monster dog pinning me. “Let her up.”

“Pari, she attacked Brutus. She’s an enemy!” The cape growled, and if the situation was different it would almost be funny that she was more doglike than even the creature trapping me. Brutus, I guess.

The sigh that ripped through Parian seemed to echo in the street, a solemn song of annoyance and exhaustion. “Bitch, she was panicking. Alec must have brought her to us without explaining anything. Like he did with Dilate. And Circus. And Spitfire. And every other person he attempts to recruit. Believe me darling, this is not the first time that lazy prick has gotten me into a fight and it won’t be the last. Now let her up and let's talk like civilized people, okay?” She draped a slender arm over Bitch’s shoulder comfortingly.

After a moment of hesitation Bitch whistled, “Brutus, here!” Immediately the dog leapt off me and padded over to its master. Once it was there it reclaimed its original place lying at her feet. While Bitch immediately set to stroking and scratching Brutus, Parian walked over to me.

I reluctantly took her offered hand; despite my feelings it was obvious they weren’t looking for a fight. They’d have just left the dog on top of me if they were. So all I could reasonably do was hear them out.

“Now then,” the doll cape began, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Impaler.”

Only nine words into our conversation and I was already bluescreening. “Th-that's not my name.” I felt heat in my face as she looked at me, how does a blank face look more feminine than me?

As I was lost in my head, the doll cape merely shook her head in… pity? “I guess you haven't seen it then.” She sighed, damn she did that a lot, before offering me her cell phone. I wanted to push it away, I wanted to have nothing to do with phones, but Lisa’s training once again took hold. When you don’t have to fight, don’t start one. I couldn’t beat Bitch by herself, no way in hell could I beat them both at once.

So reluctantly I took the phone, holding it like a bomb that could go off at any moment. I must have looked ridiculous. Heat filled my face, and I probably resembled a tomato at this point. But all thoughts of my embarrassment were driven from my mind by what I saw on that screen.

A PHO post by Bagrat, a well respected source of cape news.

♦ Topic: New cape in the bay.
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat (original poster) (the guy in the know)

Posted January 13th, 2011

Once again, a new parahuman has emerged in the Bay. First sighted wandering the Docks, the cape, designated Impaler by the PRT, soon attacked a E88 party and fought with Alabaster. While there is a good chance that this new parahuman is a hero or at worst a vigilante, evidence found at the scene has raised concerns within the PRT that this might be the action of a new villain seeking to set up their foothold.

While the PRT is remaining alert for any possible threat from Impaler, they have not yet declared her a villain or hero. According to my sources they don't want to risk forcing another parahuman into the arms of Carian like the former assistant director Davidson did to Parian.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

---

AN:
If anyone is actually reading this at all, sorry this took so long. Editing the draft was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Anyway, enjoy chapter 3 of AoM. Next up is a PRT/Protectorate interlude to explain what the cliffhanger is all about. Not sure how long it'll take me, as its gonna be in third person instead of my usual first person. But it will be coming eventually.

 

AN: sorry for the delay everyone. I'll be honest, i was very close to switching over to only posting this on Ao3 with how much trouble i was having making the threadmarks work properly, but they are functioning now so here you go. Hope you enjoy! Also working on a PHO interlude, saw that some fics make threads where readers can add their own posts, would that be interesting to any of you?


Chapter 4: PRT interlude


Director Emily Piggot:

There were days I regretted taking the director's seat. Days where I wish I never heard of the Bay. Nights where I dream of slapping Costa-brown's hand away and spitting in her face.

How could there not be? I’m running one of the most Parahuman-ridden cities in the whole country without even having a reliable second in command. The whole department leaks like a damn sieve; when we learn something in the morning the gangs would know it by lunch!

Even worse, the damn Nazis had their hooks in almost half the local politicians. It takes most of my damn time every week to make sure that they won’t be able to find an excuse to shut us down all together!

Between the red tape and constant leaks, the office could do almost nothing. If we found a stash, it would be gone before a warrant could even begin to be written. Every arrest had to be air tight or the judge would almost always end up letting gangers go with a slap on the wrist.

Once in a while we’d get lucky, some new cape would show up and they’d take a villain off the streets. If the fuckers actually reached a transport, it was over. The only way our prisoners were getting out would be if some tinker could hack three layers of Dragon’s top of the line security. Having her not so secret crush on our team got us a few perks from the world's most famous tinker. Without Davidson leaking the codes, those third Reich rejects haven’t been able to break anyone out. If only I could see Kaiser's face when he realized it. Probably why his toy statesmen started pushing so hard against any independents.

Speak of the devils, the screens before my flash on revealing the faces of the fuckers who are making my life hell. And now it's time for everyone's least favorite game show, MORON OR NAZI!

Years of experience kept my bitter amusement off my face, this would be annoying enough without giving them more ammunition. For a brief, wonderful moment there was silence as each of them looked around for who would start their little performance. Ten bucks on Dergsim, three, two, one-.

“What the fuck were you playing it Emily.” Yep right on time, and what a perfectly horrible shade of pink the pig's face is. And what lovely hair you have, all 7 strands of it in your comb over. City Attorney Dergsim was a fat, butt ugly man. Yeah, yeah, glass houses and all that, but if he had even done a single push up in his whole life I’d eat my chair. And of course his personality was just as ugly as the rest of him.

“Its Director Piggot, City Attorney. I am quite concerned about your seeming short term memory, might I recommend that you get it checked out? Panacea doesn’t do brains but there are quite a few doctors that I have gotten familiar with over the years. I’m certain I can find one that-”

His face grew even redder and he slammed his pudgy fist down on the table. “Don’t you talk to me like that you-” he shrieked. Honestly with lungs like that it's a pity he wasn’t in movies. There his falsetto voice would be useful. No reason to let him throw a tantrum, I slammed my own fist down.

“City Attorney Dergsim, I am showing you the proper courtesy that is expected of two colleges. If you continue to rage and scream I will be forced to mute you in order to keep this meeting productive.” His mouth clamped shut in an instant, his pudgy face still contorted with fury but silent regardless.

“Director Piggot, I apologize for the City Attorney’s manners but his question remains valid.”

Ah, here comes Chief City Finance Director Russle, who is absolutely not Purity. No sir, after all she only looks like Purity, talks like Purity, and got the job in the same month that Purity supposedly left for germany.

Oh and she was married to the head of Medhall, the biggest empire shell in the goddamn city. And left because she caught her husband with two blonde twins almost half his age, which is the same reason Purity supposedly left.

But she’s totally not Purity, totally.

Kayden Russle was quite possibly the closest thing to the stereotypical “white woman” that I had ever seen. Her skin was pale, not quite paper white but far too close for it to be natural. Her locks shone with far too much hair gel, styled into a curve at her shoulder that looked like the claw of some horrible beast. Really the only thing that looked natural about her were the bright blue eyes cloaked by a dome of hideous hair.

“It appears that you have ignored our concerns about Impaler. I’m certain that isn’t the case but you must understand how this looks to us.” Pink lips pulled into a thin frown, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

It was actually pretty entertaining to watch her come up with this shit sometimes. Pity I can’t laugh at it but I’ll take what I can get.

“You are the head of the people who are handling problems like this in our lovely city, can you really blame us for being concerned when you seemingly go against us to indulge some no name parahuman. Would you please help us understand what your thought process was?”

I silently drew deep breaths in and out, forcing myself to remember that I couldn’t punch the bitch. The game of political wordplay was not something I enjoyed, but I had lasted in this hellhole for almost 20 years now. Learning how to do this fucked up dance wasn’t so much a matter of difficulty as it was tedium. “I understand your concerns, Chief City Finance Director, but to say that your concerns were ignored is blatantly false.” Pause for the chaos and… now.

I brought my hand up to silence the bumbling fools masquerading as politicians. It took a few seconds but eventually the madness died down to the Empire sympathizers glaring at me while the few true Americans in the meeting calmly waited for my explanation.

“While the concerns you raised about the potential alignment of the parahuman temporarily named Impaler were disquieting, they were not enough for her to be declared a villain under PRT policy.” This time I got my hand up before the shouting could even begin. “HOWEVER, it was enough for her alignment to be declared unknown instead of heroic.”

“-Bullshit!” A red faced Chief of Police slammed down his palm onto his desk, somehow not breaking any of his fingers on this withered hand. “She is obviously a villain, look at what she did during her fight!” Pictures of the ruined warehouse, covered with dust and almost filled with dozens of stone spikes. “No hero would-”

“With all do respect Chief Poluck, Cape fights, in almost every recorded instance, result in collateral damage.” I spoke over him, drowning his frail voice out with practiced ease. “ This was a fight in an abandoned, decrepit, warehouse. Nobody really owned the building, and no civilians were injured so this is hardly the worst case of collateral damage we have seen from a hero. While Alabaster is not unusually considered a high threat, he is a dangerous criminal with almost a dozen confirmed murders and nearly three dozen suspected murders under his belt. He has clashed with the ENDBRINGERS multiple times, AND he had a tinker tech firearm capable of blasting through a shield made by DRAGON.” My glare left the entire room silent, and I was more than willing to take advantage of that. “Impaler shows every sign of a cape who went out on their first night and got in over her head, of course she went overboard. If the PRT deemed every cape a villain for property damage the only heroes would be Panacea and Scapegoat!”

The old fool was left spluttering out half formed nonsense, and to absolutely no one's surprise was rescued by the Chief of Finance.

“Fair point Director Piggot,” god even her voice sounds fake, “but what about the blood bag found at the scene? From the witness statements Impaler is seventeen at most, there is simply no legal way that a child could get her hands on such a thing.” And there it is, honestly I’m surprised it took them so long to bring it up. Not that it matters.

“With all due respect these so-called witnesses are captured criminals.” Chief Poluck opened his mouth, probably to protest with some meaningless tangent, but I pressed on. “Each one of them either had outstanding warrants, were out on bail, or were blatantly intoxicated, some on illegal substances.” I pulled in a deep breath, my unhealthy body ballooning out in a way that they probably mocked me for behind closed doors. “Their statements are, while not entirely worthless, nowhere near enough for the PRT to justify condemning anyone.”

There was a brief moment of silence, several of the less intelligent, whatever that means for nazi’s, members' mouths flapped soundlessly. What a beautiful sight, Nazi’s and morons alike acting like goldfish. Truly something to be treasured. Of course this is Brockton Bay, so nice things don’t last.

With a clear of her throat, Chief of Finance Russell drew all eyes onto her. “That's fair, Director. But what about the blood-bag? Surely that is as concerning to you as it is to me?”

Words feeling like sandpaper, I forced out , “of course Chief of Finance, but there is no proof that even belongs to Impaler in the first place.” Once again I had the pleasure of seeing those fools bluescreen. Truly, is there anything better than making a Nazi shut up? “That assumption is entirely based on witness statements, which as I already said are firmly discredited. All that is known at the moment is that a blood bag was at the scene, no reliable evidence has emerged that would allow us to really ascertain who it belonged to.”

Now I was treated to a truly rare sight, the bluescreen of Kayden Russell. Normally she kept talking and talking, leading around her little cabal of morons by the nose without them even realizing it. Shutting her followers up was easy, still fun but nothing all that special. Quieting her on the other hand, that was an accomplishment that I always enjoy.

“I see.” The words were so bitter I could almost taste them, even if her obvious frustration never showed on her face. Russel ended the call with the minimum required niceties and abruptly disconnected.

The looks of surprise and confusion on her cronies' faces warmed my soul. The sight of these paper thin coated skinheads being forced to break script would never grow old. Still, for all their confusion they knew how to follow orders, and that's exactly what every statement the patron saint of the Empire was. She really was just like her husband.

“Have a pleasant evening, everyone. It has been a pleasure to talk with you.” it was petty, but the expressions of pure resentment shown on the faces of each one of these fourth reich rejects would always taste oh so sweet.

Hours later, as I sat in my reinforced armchair at home, eyes scanning over the documents Armsmaster and Dragon acquired, a sadistic smile split my face. There were days that I regret becoming director of PRT ENE, but today was NOT one of them.

---

Trooper johnson pov:

Trooper Johnson was not having a good day. Not that such a thing was surprising, PRT troopers rarely had good days in general and Johnson had a bad habit of running his mouth far too often. How was he supposed to know his superior was right around the corner when he started complaining about how stupidly strict her training regime was?

But despite all his moaning the truth remained the same, three weeks on clean up duty. Most wouldn’t even consider this a punishment. Sure the work was tedious but it was also the only duty with a decent amount of safety other than the consol. Why complain about the safest field job out there?

Well it turned out Johnson had plenty of reason to complain, for one he had the first morning shift so of course he always ended up with the most to clean up. After all, most capes didn’t have the decency to do things at a reasonable hour. Another reason was the bone chilling cold, it wasn’t quite as bad as the night shift, but that wasn’t saying much. Unlike other patrols, clean up didn’t require the troopers to wear their suits. After all, why waste the gear on such a safe job when it could be put in the lockers for emergency use? The worst part of it, for Johnson at least, was the sheer boredom. See Johnson was an adrenaline junky, like most of his peers in all honesty. He loved the risky parts of being a trooper, perhaps more than was really healthy. So a ‘safe’ job was the best kind of punishment for the thrill seeker.

Here he was, freezing his but off, cleaning up debris into a giant PRT truck for the drivers to carry away into the local junkyard in their heated vehicles. Monotony was the true fangs of this punishment, simple, easy work done over, and over, and over again until they lose the ability to think. It would be four more hours of this before the trooper finally got off duty, and the prospects of doing this again and again for three more weeks was horrific for the caucasian man.

So if one were to ask him what he felt at the sound of something hard, yet distinctly non metallic scraping across the ground it would be hard to say whether he would answer fear, or excitement.

Johnson spun around, his PRT issued flashlight illuminating the slowly withdrawing dark of the city just before dawn. His heart raced, but not even he knew exactly what it was filled with as he made his way into and down the alleyway.

As he hunted for the source of the strange scraping, he missed the dark reddish-brown of dried blood ever so slightly out of his flashlight beam. Each footfall thundered in the alleyway, echoing off the obscured walls as if in a cave. Johnson swallowed, fear overtaking his excitement at last at the strange length of the alleyway. When he first went down it to grab some of the debris that was blown into a wall he reached the end in a few quick strides. Now though even after walking for minutes he had yet to even see the alley’s end.
“Hello?” He cried out, voice swallowed by the endless dark. If he was a more observant fellow he would have realized that the sun that moments ago was starting to emerge from the horizon had vanished, fleeing from whatever inhabited that alley. As it was, Johnson noticed nothing beyond his own fear.

Johnson had encountered the Grue a couple of times, from the outside his darkness and that submerging the alleyway were quite similar. But as one who had been inside the shaker’s cloud, he knew that this was not Grue’s doing. When inside the Carian cape’s effect, all senses, not just sight, were scrambled. Within that cloud up was down, left was north, and in was right. After his first encounter Johnson, along with the other PRT troopers on that patrol, had sent a request to Director Piggot for an immediate reassessment of Grues capability. Trooper Jamie put it best, No way in hell was that a shaker 3, shaker 5 at least just for the area of effect alone. Damn bastards under-rating capes. It's like they want us to lose!

Regardless of an internal battle that might or might not be occurring in the PRT as a whole, Johnson was left with two options, and neither of them made him very happy.

Either someone knew it came to the bay or a new trigger decided to take a stroll in one of the least interesting parts of the entire city. Neither option spelled good things for his future. Fact of the matter was that the Bay was a shit hole. Sure, after the death of scion the endbringers slowed down to once every six months instead of every three months, but even with that extended time it took almost everything the USA had to offer to maintain the status quo. A status quo that left BB out to dry.

Nobody wants to go to the bay. At least not for anything good. It was a crime filled, corrupt, mockery of a proper city. The people who would come here of their free will are either people who REALLY want to be healed by Panacea, or criminals trying to make a name for themselves. So if this was an out of town cape moving in, well he had a high chance of never seeing the light of day again. If it was a new trigger then he had a much higher chance to live past the next hour, but Johnson really didn’t like his odds.

Johnson kept going deeper and deeper into the alleyway, flashlight parting the shadows like a plow through the earth. But there was always that little bit on the edges, and the deeper he went the more his eyes focused on those slivers of dark surrounding the safety of his light. His muscles tightened, his breath quickened into rapid bursts, and soon it was like the very ground was shaking beneath him.

Suddenly there was a heart stopping growl behind him. Johnson didn’t bother to look back, immediately starting to sprint, desperate to escape whatever was making that horrible noise. No person could ever make that sound, not even a case 53. It had to be some kind of monster, maybe one of Bonesaws toys, or the creation of some new biotinker he had never heard of. That didn’t matter to Johnson though, all that he cared about was getting away. If he was eaten, who would tell the others about this, this THING? The scratching of claws on the hard asphalt and the clomping of hooves accompanied each other. Not two beasts following him together, but one being with both hooves and claws. A combination that would never be found in nature. Something scaly raced past his arm, shocking him so badly that his flashlight fell from his bone white grip. The bulb, despite all of the tinker enhancements, was clearly not strong enough to withstand the power of whatever monster was chasing him.

Bathed in total darkness, Johnson pushed himself even harder, sprinting for all he was worth. For what felt like centuries he ran, avoiding the scaly tendril lashing out at him by the skin of his teeth. One time he was scratched by the creatures… claws? Fangs? Without a better look it was impossible to know. But looking back would slow him down, and he couldn’t slow down. He had to go faster, he had to get away. He had to. He had to.

Then he hit the alley wall. Slamming into the bricks with the crunch of a nose breaking. He desperately scrabbled at the wall, hopelessly trying to climb the sheer surface until he felt it.

Not the pain of the creature biting him or the sting of his crushed nose, but the warmth of sunlight peeking over the horizon. Afraid of what he might see but desperately hoping that he was right, Johnson turned around and saw…

Nothing. The alleyway was completely empty.

Cursing to himself, Johnson strode out of the deadend in three quick movements just like before. If he was a more observant man he would have noticed the footprints slowly fading away as the common sense of man retook the alley in the light of the sun. If he was a less lucky man he would have stopped to inspect the shadows and seen what lies within. But Johnson was neither of these things, and so he got to live and tell the tale to his teammates. He was not believed however, as the idea of a biotinker able to sneak under the PRT’s close watch was laughable to all but a certain unhealthy director. But all troopers would be warned away from dark alleyways for fear of a master that could control the senses of those trapped within. A not unreasonable conclusion to jump to, perfectly fitting inside their little view of the world. Too bad that the creature within that alley did not follow the same rules as the rest of us. If one wanted to understand that, well…

They would merely have to look into their shadow. And see the three fanged maws dripping poison, eagerly awaiting their next meal.

For the age of man has ended, and beasts long forgotten have started to awaken and break free from their prisons.

 

Chapter 5: In Place of An Anchor


After looking at the post sent out by the PRT everything was little more than a blur. Parian said something, and we exchanged some kind of conversation but honestly I have no real memory of what exactly happened. Somehow I had fucked everything up, I should have been labeled a hero, or at worst a vigilante. Sure they weren’t calling me a villain but just the fact that I wasn’t named as a straight out hero would make the public distrust me. In the cape scene, there were only heroes and villains. Rouges would be pointed out as an exception, but there were less than a hundred real rouges in the entire country and in all honesty they did so little they barely even counted as capes.

It wouldn’t matter that I wasn’t outright called a villain, I wasn’t a hero in the eyes of the PRT and to the public, that was the same as being a criminal.

I didn’t have the energy to try to figure out why this happened. Too exhausted to search and see what had gone wrong along the way. All I could do was lurch my way home and collapse onto my bed after mechanically stripping out of my costume.


Light pierced through the blissful haze of sleep, dragging me from my dreams into the cold world of the waking. Monotonously I pushed myself out of bed and stashed my costume fully away in a little cubby I made with my powers early on. Once my mind was able to form a thought more complicated than *light bad*, I pulled out my desk and sat down. My room wasn’t anything special before the Pit, but afterward Dad had gone a bit… well I wouldn’t say overboard but Lisa had referred to it as “The Hebert family vault” and honestly it wasn’t that much of an exaggeration. After his ‘improvements’ to my room's security it was still definitely my room, just with a few extra… features installed. Reinforced walls, reinforced supports to hold up the extra weight of the room, three different sets of alarms, a panic room in my closet, and I am half convinced he has a turret in my ceiling light, might just be my paranoia though. Yeah, Dad was taking no chances after the Pit, it was… sweet that he went this far for me, it helped me remember that even though he was so busy now he still loved me. That he hadn’t abandoned me.

Anyway, the point being that most of the alterations were hidden to one extent or another, so on the surface at least it was still my room. Bed in the corner by the window, bookshelves lining the walls, and my desk covered in papers opposite my bed.

Damn it, I'm distracting myself again.

I forced myself to really think for the first time since seeing that fucking post. Why wouldn’t the PRT label me a vigilante? Not calling me an independent hero made sense now that I had more than two brain cells functioning, after all independents had to go through PRT power testing and get a license, but why not call me a vigilante then? Had I screwed up something along the way? I only fought Alabaster so it couldn’t be for how I fought. Maybe collateral damage? But Glory Girl was way worse than me and she was acknowledged as a hero. Did they want to force me into the wards? Lisa said they did that on occasion, but after the thing with Parian and the former vice director she told me that the PRT had started to hold back the hard sell more often. Why would they pull it out for me of all capes? I wasn’t some powerhouse like Bitch, or a mastermind like Tattletale. Would they really pull out the hard sell just for someone like me? Nothing made sense, no matter how much I thought about it I just couldn’t figure out why the PRT did that, and after half an hour of pacing and mumbling, all I had to show for it was a headache and a gnawing hunger.

Fuck this. I’m not going to get anywhere by throwing myself into this brick wall of questions over and over. Then I had a thought that made my knees give out and my breaths come in quick hot bursts. What if they know? What if they had figured out about my healing? Blood related capes might not be despised on the level of masters or strangers but they weren’t exactly liked. If they somehow figured out that I could heal with blood then that would be all that they would care about. No matter what I did they would only remember the blood drinking monster. Everything that was me would be erased, replaced by a made up story that-.

I grabbed a pen off the desk and stabbed it into my arm, it barely hurt but that was still enough to snap me out of the spiral my thoughts had devolved into. No they can't know. Even Lisa couldn’t figure it out until I told her. They’d need to have used the think tank to find out about it, and that would have taken a lot longer than mere hours. Now that I wasn’t panicking it was obvious that they had no way to figure out how my healing worked, and even if they did that wouldn’t have them just ignore me trying to be a hero. Just off the top of my head I could think of three hero’s with blood related powers in the states. Yeah Bathory, Yu-mei-ren, and Sith weren’t as famous as Crimson but they were hardly obscure. And blood was such a small part of my powers in the first place, people probably won’t even remember it if I show off my real powers enough. At worst it’ll get me a bit of suspicion for a while before I prove that they can trust me.

But even with that problem dealt with, that still left the question of what the hell the PRT was doing. No matter how I thought about it though no answer came to mind. I need more information.

…

Wait.

I’m an idiot.

Barely repressing the urge to facepalm, I picked up my phone and shot Lisa a text asking for us to meet. How did I forget that I could literally just ask the thinker who I have been friends with for months about this. All the effort I put into this was utterly wasted, how stupid could-.

I stopped and took a deep breath. In, hold for five seconds, out. Repeating the motion that Lisa taught me shortly after we met to help me control my ‘episodes.’ Lisa had made damn sure I acknowledged that I have problems, and once I had admitted it she did everything she could to help me deal with them. Unfortunately therapy was hard to come by in the bay, most of the so called therapists held some level of E88 sympathies so even now that Dad could afford it there just weren’t any good options. So that left Lisa having to do her best to play amateur therapist with her power, though her results were… varied as best.

In the first week of her trying to help I had nearly skewered her twice, why she kept hanging out with me after that I couldn’t begin to guess. My reasoning for sticking around was simple, I didn’t have anyone else. It would take way more than just a few fuck ups to make me give up the one friend I had. But for the life of me I couldn’t even begin to guess why she put up with me.

The chime of my phone snapped me back to reality, Lisa agreed to the meeting and after school I might be able to get some answers.

At least that's something to look forward to. My mouth twisted into a grimace and I reluctantly made the way to my bus stop. Winslow might not be that bad in comparison to some of my experiences, but just because something hurt less didn’t make it magically not hurt.

Not much to do about it though. Just have to make it through the day.



Winslow highschool

After getting off the bus and making my way through the school's doors, avoiding the crowds as best I could, I started on my way to my first period class. There was no point in stopping at my locker. Too many things have gone missing for me to ever store anything within it again. So all I had to do was weave around the clumps of people and reach the classroom.

Simple right?

So naturally I ended up stuck in a crowd, with two of the cronies on either side of me.

"Did you hear?" one of the hangers on said in an obvious stage whisper. I couldn't bring myself to bother looking in her direction. The only reason I didn't push my way through the crowd all together was that I didn't want to waste time with a detention when they went crying to the principal about how the "crazy druggie Hebert pushed me down" or some other dumb shit.
"Hear about what?" another in the crowd responded, equally fake. At this point it wasn't even whatever nonsense they would inevitably spew that annoyed me, just that they were so bad at it. If they were going to make shit up at least put some effort into

"Hebert's so ugly her Dad can't even stand to be in the same house as her. He spends all of his time in his office cause he doesn't even want to look at her frog face." Surprisingly, real giggles followed that moronic statement, and I couldn't help but wonder exactly why the morons found it so funny.

What, was the idea of a broken home somehow comical? Was there some kind of comedic value in making up shit about a person they haven't even shared a single conversation with that they loved so much? I could understand faking their laughter for the sake of kissing Emma's ass, but with how they were braying like donkeys, it was clear that somehow they found actual amusement in the so-called 'joke.'

Tired of the sycophant's ugly laughter, I slipped into one of Winslow's many side corridors that would lead to my first period class. For all that she was a skilled manipulator, Emma was no tactician, it was child's play to slip between her half-assed barrier and make my way to my class.

As I strode through the halls I noticed the pale domes of E88 skinheads in the corner of my eye. With my attention on them I managed to make out fragments of their conversation.

“Outa teach her-” “Can you beli-” “She needs to learn to-” “when the others get a hold of her-”

With only that I couldn’t even guess at their meanings but something made me certain they were talking about my fight with Alabaster. Maybe the slight smell of fear that they try to smother underneath a forced rage. Perhaps it was the way their voices wavered ever so slightly. Whatever the case, it was… southing

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Some of Emma’s cronies, (or maybe they were Madison’s? I don't bother keeping track of which group they fell into anymore,) spewed some insults, or tried to trip me in the halls, but aside from that the day was thankfully uneventful.



When the time finally came for my meeting with Lisa I was surprised by her starting the moment we arrived on our roof, not even going to her usual spot on the radiator.

“Before we start, I need to get you to understand something. The Empire is out for blood taylor," Lisa spoke with a firmness I had never heard from her before. "You have scared their lower ranking gangers and they can't have that."

I couldn't deny the slight surge of pride that the statement brought me, but it still didn't really make any sense. Alabaster might have been an experienced cape but he was small fry, all he had was durability. Why would his defeat-?

Lisa responded before I could even voice my question, "It's not just that you defeated Alabaster, though that certainly is part of it. They're scared because you defeated him in one of THEIR places. Most of the time when they loss capes its during fights that THEY start. Its vital to their image, and you endanger that."

It still didn't make any sense, and my confusion must have shown because Lisa gave me a fond, if slightly exasperated, smile.

"The Empire paints itself as the 'protector of the white man.' It doesn't really matter if they lose people when it's a fight that they start, they still keep a sense of control and the members still keep their sense of security when in empire territory. But you hit them INSIDE their turf, in the place where they are SUPPOSED to be safe. That makes the entire thing that the Empire uses to keep its members, SAFETY, look like a lie. That's why so many of them are scared, that's why the Empire has to take you down and fast. Every day that you remain unscathed is a day that weakens their position, and a day where more of them are thinking 'can they really keep me safe?' "

“Then we have to keep hitting them!” I exclaimed, springing to my feet as if I was gonna rush off and fight them right then and there, only for Lisa to stop me in my tracks with her wondrous laugh.

"That's the best part, Taylor." her grin sent shivers down my spin. The way everything just fit together perfectly on her face, as if she was made to grin like that, made my heart skip a beat. "We don't need to hit them again. All we, all you, have to do is prevent them from hitting back."

I opened my mouth to protest such a passive method but she cut me off with a finger to my lips.

"They need to prove that they protect those under them. Every day that goes by where they don't fight you is a day that makes them look more like a bunch of paper tigers." I pushed her hand out of the way, despite how a part of me protested the loss of her touch.

"But if we beat even more of their capes won't they look even worse?" For all that Lisa's argument made sense, the idea of just letting the empire be, leaving them to do as they please, it churned by stomach in a way I didn't think I would ever experience after-. blood splattering across the cold stone of the floor, spurting from the hole in the old man's head and staining my face with a crimson taint. The derisive braying of the man who shot Mr Thomas. Stink of iron and bile burning my-

"TAYLOR!"

Lisa's worried shout, accompanied by her hand landing firmly on my shoulder, pulled me out of the memories of that place. Her eyes, normally so bright and mischievous, were tainted with a dark haze of worry that filled me with shame. She shouldn't feel like that for me, not after-

"No, bad Taylor." She lightly bopped me on the head, worry being replaced as her previous fond exasperation buried it. Whatever she saw with her power caused her to pull me into a tight hug. It was only than, wrapped up in the sweet smell of my only friend, encased in her wonderful warmth as she drove out the thoughts of anything outside of the embrace, that I started to cry.

 

Chapter 6: Crossroads


I don’t know how long I sobbed into Lisa’s arms. Could have been seconds, or it could have been hours. All I could feel was the waters of that horrid day spraying out from my eyes and the warm embrace of the one person I had in the entire world. No matter how much pain flowed from me, Lisa never loosened her grip, holding me close as if she could shield me from the memories if she just held me tight enough.

When the ocean of fear and sadness finally withdrew, the first thing I noticed was how soft Lisa was. Softer than any cushion, and with a firmness revealing the muscles she hid beneath her slender frame. Her faint scent filled my nose, some strange aroma that even my unnatural senses couldn’t identify. It somehow perfectly encapsulated what Lisa was, mysterious yet not frightening, powerful yet not dominating, firm yet not uncompromising. How such an understated smell could radiate all that and more was something that I couldn’t even begin to parse, yet it did so all the same.

It was only after she began to stroke my hair that I finally comprehended what position we were in. Lava flooded my face, and it was guaranteed that my face was redder than a tomato as I flusteredly removed myself from her embrace. In the process I unbalanced myself and tumbled to the ground like a fool, only making even more heat consume my face.

Thankfully Lisa didn’t comment on my… everything, instead waiting with a gentle smile for me to right myself.

I coughed, desperately trying to move on from my total embarrassment but before I could speak Lisa raised a slender finger to forstall me.

“Okay, before anything else we need to talk about what happened last night.” Her eyes dug into me, still holding the same kindness as before but now it was accompanied by the slightest hint of exasperation. It was the expression an elder sibling might give to their younger one after they got hurt from ignoring their advice. I did everything I could to remain calm, but despite my best efforts Lisa obviously got something from her power as she sighed and brought her palm to her face.

“God damn it Taylor,” Lisa muttered under her breath, then continued in a more firm voice, “If you were so worried you should have just told me.” Her eyes were revealed from behind her palm and her gaze locked me in place.

I wanted to protest, to say something to defend myself but in front of Lisa all of my justifications melted away and left me unable to even open my mouth. Still I fixed her with what I hoped was a look of self assured confidence and not a childish pout. The investigation might have been a bit sloppy but how could she expect me to trust a gang?! Even if Lisa was right and there were sections that were just people trying to stay safe in numbers, that didn’t mean everyone in the gang was like that. What if she had only been shown the parts they wanted her to see? How could she be so comfortable when surrounded by a bunch of criminals? But before I could give voice to my concerns, Lisa cut me off yet again with a raised hand and a sigh.

“Taylor, listen to me.” Her voice was calm and firm, a stone wall refusing to break in the waves of my concern. She was all that I could see, blocking out the rest of the world with her strong, yet gentle presence. Her wavy honey blonde locks framed her face, her normal smug grin had fallen away, replaced by her rosy lips curving down in a worried frown.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to ignore the burning in my cheeks and refocus on her words. Lisa didn’t get like this often, and experience told me that all ignoring her would do is get her to dig her heels in further. She could be just as stubborn as me when the chips were down.

Pinning me in place with her determined gaze, Lisa rose up and walked around me in a circle. The heat of her emerald eyes roaming my body turned the burning in my cheeks to an outright inferno. My entire being was pulled apart and studied by her as she circled me, each clack of her shoes on the concrete roof sent sparks through my entire being.

When Lisa got like this I couldn’t even guess at what her power showed her. Even though I was the subject it felt like she could see things about me that even I didn't know existed. Whatever she saw she refused to let it show, the mask of professional calm and apathy falling over her in a way that I had only seen a handful of times. After I first saw her acting like this it took me a long time to accept that the professional demeanor was the mask, with the smug, cheerful, wonderfully infuriating Lisa that befriended me after the Pit being the real Lisa. I had convinced myself that it was too good to be true, and it had taken almost three weeks of paranoia and sleepless nights to put that unwanted voice down.

Still, I couldn’t stop that horrid voice from popping up again every time I saw her like this. The way she boxed her emotions up so effortlessly, it was so easy to see it as her stripping away a mask, instead of putting one on.

Yet I had to believe that it was real. That I had at least one person who wasn’t using me. At least one person who was honest with me, who wouldn’t lie to my face even ‘for my own good.’ If it wasn’t, if she was just another liar. I’d-

“Taylor!”

Lisa’s hand came down hard on my shoulder, pulling me back from the abyss of my thoughts. I blinked, only now realizing how dry my eyes were, and my attempt to speak revealed my throat wasn’t much better. Lisa chuckled softly, handing me a small bottle of water that I took without hesitation.

Nodding my gratitude, I took a few seconds to gulp down the water before returning my eyes to my teacher in all things capes.
With my episode halted and whatever she was doing with her power completed, Lisa returned to her seat on the heater. Her legs crossing smoothly and chin rested on her hands so she could look right at me with her piercing gaze.

The pause couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, yet somehow the tension stretched out for an eternity. A single moment pulled like taffy, growing tighter and tighter as it is forced to go further yet never quite managing to break by itself. It seemed to go on forever, as if the world would stand still for the rest of time simply due to this single exchange.

Right until Lisa split the bounds holding the moment together with a heavy sigh, leaning backward until she lay with her back resting on the heater.

“Taylor.” Even without being able to see her eyes I could feel the conviction that surely resided within them.

“Y-yeah?” cursing my stumbling words, I awaited whatever Lisa had concocted with bated breath.

“You want to see why I trust Carian so much, right?”

My mouth was open long before I processed the non-question. Lisa knew that I did, so her words held not a hint of doubt, only being phrased as a question for the sake of politeness. The straightforward invitation to see the gang's innerworkings, for what else could it be, left my mouth flapping dumbly.

Rising from her position, Lisa met my eyes with her deep emerald orbs, pinning me in place. Despite my lack of a response, Lisa continued, her power clearly giving her some kind of answer. “We’re going to be hitting a big merchant hideout tonight. We found something yesterday. Its,” She paused, and for the first time her conviction wavered, her iron tone shifting back to her usual, caring, one before she shook her head and refocused. “Bad, really bad. I can’t get too specific, hell even I don’t know everything about it, but if what I heard has even a chance to be true…” Lisa shivered.

What?!?!

Lisa had never been like this before. So lost.. No, not quite lost. She knew what was going on, she still had her faint air of… something that made her radiate a sense of being the smartest in the room. But now she looked like… like I did this morning.

Knowing what was happening, knowing what you had done to get to this point and what you had to do to get where you wanted. But not knowing if the step you meant to take was the right one. Like standing over an abyss, hundreds of paths stretching out before you, goal in sight, yet every one held the risk of collapsing. How to know which one to take? Which one would lead to the goal and which ones would crumble?
The fear, the uncertainty, not of not knowing what you had to do, or how you could do it, but of having far too many options and no idea which one to take. It was familiar to me, how could it not be with how my power worked, but Lisa had always seemed to be above such a fear. As if she had a map while everyone else had to stumble around in the dark. Every action made with, while not total certainty, a sense of confidence that you had chosen the best option.

Yet here she was, wavering for the first time since I met her.

I didn’t know what to do, what I could do. But on some instinct I couldn't begin to explain. I wrapped my arms around her. No words were exchanged, nothing I could think of felt like it would fit the situation, but just as she had done to me I offered myself as a silent piller for her to lean on.

Before I really comprehended what was happening, Lisa had calmed. Pushing me away with a smile, she shook her head and took on the foxes grin.

“It’s bad Taylor. That’s all I can say for now. The plan is to hit the place tonight, nothing like what was done in the past. We’re going all in, most of our capes will be there. It’d be risky but if you want to really see what carian is all about, this is your best chance.”

With her piece said, she handed me a slip of paper with a phone number on it.

“My cape phone,” was Lisa’s quick reply to my questioning look. “I have to go, a lot needs to happen before everything is ready. Just, if you are interested, text me with that number and I’ll give you more details, okay?”

With my nod she turned and quickly started to walk off, leaving me alone on the roof, eyes locked onto the paper she gave me.

My choice was made before Lisa had even given me the paper. For all of my doubt, for all of my concerns and suspicions about what Carian might truly be, I trusted Lisa. Whatever they found, Lisa was scared. At this point it wasn’t a matter of finding out more about Carian, I was a hero, and no matter the truth about Carian, the Merchants were planning something that scared Lisa. That mattered more than my doubts, more than my fears, Lisa was scared, and that was that.

Sighing, I took the first step down my path, hoping it wouldn’t be the one to crumble.