Pretender (Worm/Dominions 4)

Reserved for indexing. I know it's not necessary any more, shut up.

 

In the Beginning, there was Chaos.

Out of Chaos rose worlds populated with multitudes of beings. Wars were fought, Kings and Emperors rose and fell and civilizations were built and crumbled as millenia passed. Gods, dark and strange, were worshipped in pagan temples. Still there was Chaos. The gods fought amongst themselves, bringing even greater ruin to those who would serve them. At last there was One, a being of great power and enlightenment, who rose above His immortal peers and cast them out of the Heavens into Oblivion. From Chaos came Order, and with Order came peace, and the creatures of the worlds flourished. The Age of Chaos had ended.

Now the Wheel has turned once again.

- - -

It had taken her over a month to gather everything. This was made somewhat more difficult by the simple fact that she didn't understand what she was gathering. Nobody else seemed to see them. She'd wondered, at first, if it was like this for other Capes. Nothing on any of the message boards she'd perused for information had suggested such. It wasn't like there was anyone she could ask.

A sensation nagging in the back of her mind let her know that her father had come home. Some small part of her had been tracking him all the way home from work. It still unnverved her just how easy it was to do. Seeing him move around the city made her feel constantly tense whenever he passed too close to any sort of large group. Whatever the method she observed thing with was seemed to not only be reasonably inaccurate but perfectly willing to think of anyone that wasn't her or her father as an enemy.

Between her fingers five whitish gems the size of a pea had being laid out on her desk. More, but different ones, sat in glass jars on her bookshelf. Careful tests had shown that other people, or at least her dad, couldn't see them. There were a couple of more white ones as well as yellow, red, green, and a few shimmering pearls. The most full jars by far were those containing the purple and the blue. She still didn't quite understand what caused them to come into being even if she somehow knew what they were.

The light from the white gems flowed into the crude metal ring laid out in between them. As it did so the surface turned from the gray of iron to a bronzish hue. Imperfections were being smoothed out and on the exterior of the band an exterior cutting that looked vaguely like an inset gem was forming. This one item had been the work of several days of concerted effort and had left her feeling more and more drained with every passing session. And now...

She stood up and felt the connection end. Light ceased to move and the gems became inert; like white glass. For all her power felt... off at the very least she didn't seem to need to inscribe any weird sigils or such. All of this stank of... well, magic. Part of her wanted to try writing a letter to Myrddin so she could see if he shared any of her peculiarities. Of course, internally she very much doubted that. The powers told her what she was, in a way.

After dinner she went right back to the work. It had been a quiet affair, as usual, and hadn't felt especially... filling. Ever since what had happened she'd not had much of an appetite. Was that just part of what she was now? She didn't feel tired, either, no matter how long she stayed awake; nor did she feel sore no matter how far she walked. Every time she tried to look up details, more information, nothing even close to how she felt was forthcoming. Then there was the other matter.

Trying not to think about it didn't help. It was always hanging there, in the back of her mind, with the slowly growing points of light that seemed to be somehow related to her strength. For all of the knowledge that had come to her part-and-parcel with this power there was so much she didn't understand at all. Yet every time she close her eyes she couldn't help but think of him. Was... was this what he was? Had he started as someone just as confused as her? Or maybe he'd taken to it better than her. Figured out how to make all of this weirdness work for him.

The ring was finished by morning. She wore it to school the next day, as a proof of concept, and it had worked. Her mind's eye told her, constantly, how many hostiles were present in the building but the number would fluctuate to the point where it wasn't even remotely helpful. There wasn't an accurate count and it didn't seem to understand the difference between a neutral party and an enemy. The ring did, though.

It had started silently buzzing against her skin almost as soon as she'd entered the building. Her memories, the repository of knowledge, has just told her it warned of danger and would enable one to gather more bodyguards in case of an assassination attempt. She intended to use it slightly differently. As soon as it went off she changed her intended path. The ring went silent.

First test: Ring of Warning. Success.

That was just the beginning. Her approximation was that the next two items would probably take at least another month to make since each one required twice the gems of the one she'd just done. There was a third one she'd been considering, and a fourth and fifth as well; maybe even a sixth. The problem was that not only did all of this take time to do but she also needed to collect resources. She'd have to prioritise. Plus, at some point, she needed to decide what to do with her life.

Thus far, it was pretty clear that she was planning to be a hero herself. Even with all of the weird manifestations her power would class her as a Tinker; possibly a very unique one, since she was reasonably sure that most people would be able to use her items without any worries about maintenance. If she could put a bit of work into mass production of some things then she might be able to make a reasonable amount of money just from selling them. However...

No. She didn't want to do it that way.

Two more long months came and went. She decided to do the hammer first. It would decrease her long-term expenditure and also, she suspected, the amount of time and effort it took. Gathering the right sort of gem had proven harder than she'd thought, however, and so she'd started working on the boots in the meantime. They were easier to find.

The first one she'd ever found had been one of the pearls. It had formed in her window. Specifically, it had formed a week after she'd gotten out of the hospital. On the night of the full moon she'd been woken up by a strange sensation and seen the moonlight caught in a cobweb over her window pain. The light had somehow... crystalised into that shimmering pearl. She'd had some idea of what it was on sight, of course, but even so...

Finding others had been easier. She could poke around the waterfront and uncover the blue ones now and then in tide pools and such. The green ones would appear in the local park; as far from the tracks and paths of humans as they could, it seemed. Then there were the purple ones... it felt like she could come across those anywhere in the city. Any place that there was, or had been, suffering and pain and death. They were the easiest to find.

Most elusive were the red and yellow; now that she'd realised she could find white ones in some birds' nests, and alone high roof tops. Gathering them was a bit of a mission but at least she knew where they would be. After a big fire she'd managed to find two red gem in the ashes by sneaking into the ruins and that had been her biggest haul of those yet. As for the yellow... it was hard. She was lucky to find one in a whole week, and she needed fifteen.

There'd been an unexpected windfall in the form of one of the new Endbringer Shelters. She'd been passing by the site one day and happened to look down, only to spot some gems on one of the dirt piles. Later that night she'd stopped by to collect them and gone on to other construction sites besides to check where they were digging. With the hammer finished the rest of her work had been much easier. Now she was here...

Her equipment was rather eclectic. The boots had developed fur rims upon completion and were ridiculously quiet. She could walk across broken glass without making a noise. Transforming a rough shirt made of iron wool into actual scale mail had been utterly bizarre but the result was sufficiently weightless that she could wear it underneath her hoodie. The amulet was hidden as well, since it didn't need to be exposed to be effective, but she couldn't really hide the staff. It was held in her hands as she walked nervously down the street; a crude stick encrusted with blue crystals down its length and one firmly embedded at the end.

It wasn't until the helmet that she'd tried exercising some control over her creations, though; as the shape of the weird limbs and spikes had come together she'd done her best to push them down and close up the front a bit. It had... mostly worked. The base materials didn't seem to matter all that much and, so, she'd used an old and broken pot that had turned into a purplish metal as she infused it with the gems. Although it covered her face entirely when she wore it she didn't really have any problems navigating.

The end result looked very much like a nerd who was rejected from a convention for not knowing how to pick one style and stick to it. She couldn't help but feel very self-conscious. Still, she had a plan. Going into the main building during the day wouldn't work for her. However, she'd 'seen' Armsmaster riding by this way one night while rummaging around the docks for blue gems. A few tests had confirmed that this was his regular path and schedule. So she was going to sit here, in plain sight, and wait for him to come by. Simple.

Ten minutes later he was already five minutes late and she didn't know why. The night was quiet; if there was an emergency then she ought to have some idea of it, surely? She'd just been contemplating going home when her ring began to buzz at her. Unfortunately, this wasn't Winslow; thus, when the group of ABB gangers walked out of the business down the street they were able to spot her before she could get up and move.

"Thanks for nothing," she grumbled at her item but knew that it wasn't its fault. It was designed for split-second warning against imminent danger. At school that could let her avoid people she didn't want to run into by quickly changing her paths but even then it wasn't infallible. Out in the open... well, she really ought to have swapped it out for something else but she had no idea what she wanted to make.

The four of them nudged each other and walked her way. She pulled her hood down some more and clutched nervously at the staff. It didn't look all that valuable... to any normal person's eyes the gems on it were too large to be anything but fake, after all. Actually, she had no idea if they were or not. Besides, in a city like Brockton Bay who would ever mess with a weird looking stranger? That was just dumb.

"Hey, little boy. You're out a bit late." Well. That was just embarassing, but not unexpected given that the armour didn't exactly do wonders for her figure under the baggy hoody. One of the other guys muttered something to his friend but she could understand them. Would it be better to respond, or ignore them? If she said something they might realise she was a girl and that could make things much worse. Ignore was probably best. Armsmaster should be here any moment. She'd know if he was within a block of her, though... he was really late.

"Hey. Hey! Don't ignore me, kid, I'm talking to yo-" The guy grabbed at her. This was a mistake on his part. When he knocked her back he got a proper glimpse at her face. Immediately he stumbled backwards, turning pale as he did so, and let out a little moan of terror. His friends reacted predictably; a mixture of confusion and anger as they shouted things she didn't understand at her. With a heavy sigh she pushed her hood back and went to work.

Two blocks away, Armsmaster watched the live feed. He'd noted the initial reaction with interest but the subsequent ones were far more fascinating. As soon as the unknown individual had pushed their hood back the remaining gang members had immediately recoiled in fear. Although the design of the helmet was clearly meant to be intimidating he knew that some other effect had to be responsible. Especially given what happened next. The unknown had reached out, touched one of the men and they'd immediately collapsed to the ground.

This had, naturally, caused the remaining two to start running. It had seemed the staff was a ranged weapon, however, as the new cape had swung it at them one after the other. Blue light and mist had exploded off them and they'd noticeably slowed; both had collapsed to the ground from repeated swings before the cape stood up to go check on them.

They took a pulse, then dragged the three into a pile and left them beside her. Probably not dead, then. Having made his decision he stepped back on to his bike and called in the event before heading in to confront the cape in question. The software he'd made to check the cameras along his patrol route was proving its worth; if this was a trap he'd have gone right into it without even realising until he was within visual range.

Something interesting happened as he drew closer. The cape suddenly straightened up and checked on the three men again, then stood and seemed to be waiting expectantly for him. They knew he was coming, eh? Not just his schedule, but some sort of sensory ability. His notes now listed them as 'Blaster', 'Master', 'Striker' and 'Thinker' but, after some brief thought, he shifted all four into a subclass under 'Tinker'. It just made sense.

They didn't attack, at least, even when he moved into the confirmed range of their weapon. Instead they flagged him down with a bit of waving. Still wary, he coasted to a halt beside them and eyed the three gang members piled up together. To their credit, the cape looked sheepish. Then they spoke and he was doubly surprised not only by their youth but also by the pitch. A young woman?

"Um... sorry, I think those two might be a bit hypothermic... do you have some warm blankets or something? I've, uh... never used this thing before, so..." They trailed off quietly and broke his gaze. Whatever they did to the gang members didn't seem to be affecting him, at least, so that meant it was probably controllable. His response was to spray the two down with containment foam and then, as it hardened, toss a small metal device into it. The foam was a good insulator and the device was a miniaturised heater; something he often had prepared for arrests on cold nights.

"Well, try and be more careful with untested tech in the future. You could have seriously hurt someone. Now, what are you doing here?" The young lady scratched the back of her head, or helmet, and shifted awkwardly in place. Teenager at best. Wards candidate? Maybe. More tinkers were always good, even if he couldn't quite peg their style from their aesthetic.

"I was waiting for you. I knew this was your patrol route and I wanted to talk to you about... y'know... Cape stuff." He nodded. That more or less checked out, logically speaking. Well, it was certainly refreshing at least. Normally they were the ones who had to track down the wandering vigilantes instead of the other way around.

"Very well. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have. Do you have a name?" That seemed to make the girl hesitate. It wasn't confusion. She was nervous. Possibly ashamed, even. Correct course of action was to display empathy. "Don't worry, it can't be worse than 'Clockblocker'. Or 'Armsmaster', for that matter." He pulled a smile at her as best as he could with his own helmet and she giggled in response. Success.

"I guess... the best name for me would be... Pretender."

 

Not long after his introduction to Pretender, Colin found himself seated in the back of one of the PRT's Mobile Command Units with a teenage girl who was wearing a ski mask and a set of scale mail. In truth, he found himself far more impressed by the former than the latter. He'd asked a few little questions about the staff's effects, and if there might be any adverse effects to her knockout power, while they'd waited for the response team. Paramedics had been quick to arrive and make sure the duo didn't suffer from hypothermia and the PRT Response Unit had arrived just as quickly.

As soon as she'd gotten into the back of the trailer they'd brought along for him she'd stripped off her hoodie and helmet; putting both on the table. He'd not been able to say anything before hand but had been pleasantly surprised to see she was wearing a balaclava underneath. The armour had also been interesting. Probably effective enough against a knife but it looked very professional. His theory was looking better and better.

"Why the balaclava?" Colin turned and put the hot drinks down on the little fold out table. Ordinarily this command centre would be used for mobile briefings; its intended purpose was usually quarantine protocols, riots, hostage situations... anything big and Parahuman-related. Tonight its purpose was to allow him to conduct a private interview with a potential new recruit. That included a hot chocolate for her, and a coffee for him. "It's an unusually prudent move for a new cape." She looked a little embarrassed.

"When I realised I had a power I just searched 'tips for new capes' online. There were a lot of pages..." Oh. Huh. Well, that made sense. "So I checked a few out. The Protectorate has one too, although the first tip is 'call this number'." Which also seemed quite sensible to him. Get access to them early or else at least prevent them from doing dumb mistakes. "One was pretty helpful, though. It gave me the idea. Makes my helmet more comfortable as well." Pretender rapped one hand against the purple metal. It didn't smell of oil, and he was pretty sure it didn't have any manganese in it. Then again, maybe it did? You never knew, with tinkers.

"It's a good idea. You can take the helmet off when you need to but not need to worry about your identity. I might recommend getting a thinner one as well, for when it gets hotter." Then again, maybe cooling wouldn't be a problem? He glanced at her staff, leaned against the wall by the table. All of his instruments were telling him there were no magnetic fields or electrical symbols. Just wood and some sort of crystal that was probably just glass, actually. Either way, she seemed capable of reasonably precise ranged cryokinesis.

Armsmaster averted his gaze from the gear and took a sip of his coffee. He'd retracted the helmet around his mouth, at least, but the gear was still reasonably imposing. A call had been put out to Hannah given he recognised that, for all of her unwavering dedication to the rule of law, she was paradoxically better at dealing with people than he was. For now, he'd just follow the book on this. Display compassion, don't push too hard, compliment but warn, that sort of thing. It was imperative not to spook the girl.

"They will be okay, right?" Ah. He nodded to himself as the girl pulled her legs up and hugged them with one arm. Body language demonstrated clear nervousness. Concern for the men who'd accosted her. Well, it hadn't escalated very far before she'd ended it rather decisively. "I didn't have a lot of options when it came to making a nonlethal weapon..." A mental image of smouldering targets and an embarrassed looking Kid Win promising to halve the power input to his latest laser gun flashed into Colin's head and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"You did better than many first timers do. It was something you considered before you went out and that you took steps toward." He'd lost count of the number of times a newbie seriously injured someone on their first outing. Rumour had it that some independent heroes that really ought to know better still had difficulties with that. "They'll be fine. The paramedics informed me that there were no signs of severe hypothermia. It seems the chill was going away before I even began to heat them. That's an impressive item you've made."

It really was. He'd have to see about incorporating it into his Halberd, perhaps. According to what she'd said it was meant to numb limbs and chill the body; something he could see being highly useful in dealing with Brutes. Perhaps, for lack of a better phrase, her focus was something like 'status effects'? Ugh. Clockblocker must be rubbing off on him. That was far more childish than he'd have liked.

"I can only put people to sleep on touch, so I needed something to stop people running away." Not a bad idea. Though, looking at her, he had to wonder what had caused that. Maybe the ring? Odd thing to put it on. Then again, she could easily wear it in her civilian life that way. Quite short-ranged, though. He'd have made a duplicate with some sort of ranged capability. Perhaps that wasn't an option for some reason, though.

"That was an interesting effect, incidentally. How did you achieve it? It seems rather effective." That was an understatement, actually. Nonlethal take downs were rarely so complete as that. The young men had still been unconscious even when the paramedics had arrived. One was even snoring. "I apologise if I seem like I'm prying; I'm just trying to figure out what your speciality is." At this point he was confident enough to voice his theory. More or less.

"Speciality?" She looked confused for a moment, and then comprehension seemed to dawn. "Oh. I'm not a Tinker. These items have no technological basis." Pretender reached over and picked up the helmet, rapping on the side of it. "This used to be a pot. Just a pot. I'm not sure what it is, now. Then this?" She laid out the staff on the table and turned it side to side. "Just a branch. No idea where the gems came from. I don't think they're valuable. That's what I do. There's some stuff I can do myself, and then other things I sort of... infuse the power into an item, then I use the item. I don't know if it would work for you or not."

Colin felt his eye twitching slightly underneath his mask. He reached for the staff then hesitated, looking at the girl. She nodded her assent and so he took it up. There was a sort of 'click' in his mind as he held it and stared in disbelief at it. The scanners in his helmet backed up what she was saying. Every wavelength he had access to, and ever metric he could check it by, said it was standard wood. Yet...

He stood up and walked over to the door of the MCU while she watched him go, sipping her hot chocolate. It seemed she was entirely unconcerned with him taking the staff. Like she knew what he was about to do. Armsmaster pushed the door open and stepped outside, staring across the street at one of the wooden posts poking out of the water. Then he lifted the staff, and lightly waved it in the air. There was a flash of blue light, a surge of fog into the air and when it cleared the wood was coated in a thin layer of frost. He stared for a long time before going back in to find her sitting calmly and waiting for him.

"I guess it worked, then. I wasn't sure if other people would be able to use them, but I thought it should work." Colin laid the staff down and said nothing. As soon as he'd held it in both hands he'd understood precisely how it worked. Activation, range, frequency of effect. All of it. The key thing was both hands. Not on touch, but as soon as his other hand had come into contact with it. Yet he had no idea how. It was... concerning.

"... yes, it worked. It's an interesting ability, but I'm guessing these things take a while for you to make?" Pretender nodded, removing her ring and an amulet from under her armour. These were laid on the table beside the staff and helmet. She began to indicate them one at a time.

"The helmet creates an aura of fear. Well, sort of? It triggers a fear response, but if you're not inclined to run away it doesn't seem to work... I tested it at the park and got mixed results with the wildlife." Reasonably intelligent. Good to see she hadn't been testing on random people. At least he hoped not. "This ring is... I guess it's a danger sense? But it's not very reliable. I've not tested the amulet, but it ought to deflect projectiles. You know about the staff, but my boots make me less tired. They're also weirdly quiet. Then this is just weightless." She rapped her knuckles on the scale mail. He wondered what that had been. If it was just about the infusing of power then they ought to be able to look like anything but instead they seemed to take on a particular form...

There was a knock on the door to the unit then; distracting his line of thought. He excused himself to check and found Hannah standing on the other side. Not for the first time he envied ability to go without sleep. They both stepped outside for a moment so he could brief her on the initial situation and the girl's powers. Along with a few other things besides.

"She's shown reasonable caution in how she's gone about this, but I've not asked about home life yet; or the trigger. Thought that might be left to you, in case it was... personal." It wasn't that Colin doubted his ability to empathise with her on those fronts. He just felt like she might be more willing to open up to Hannah for a number of reasons; be it the fact that she was also a woman or the simple truth that his equipment was very dehumanising. "I'll return to my patrol, unless there's anything you need?"

"No, Armsmaster. Thank you." She went in to find the girl just... sitting there. Miss Militia couldn't help but frown slightly at her demeanour. Most people would be slightly startled when someone entered a room. At least just enough to shift slightly. Although she looked up when Hannah had come in it had been a calm and casual thing. This was a clearly abnormal disposition. Thinker power too? Trump/Thinker was a good combination. Although... walked over to the table and sat down. "Hello, Pretender. I'm Miss Militia. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." The girl didn't emote very much. She looked almost distracted. Then she sighed and shook her head. "Sorry. I can just see Lung moving past us about a block over, and it's quite distracting... oh... I guess that's the kind of thing I should probably share with you, huh?" That brought Hannah up cold. The girl had an apologetic little smile on, one clearly brought about from embarrassment, but that wasn't the problem. She opened her phone and began typing to Armsmaster with one thumb.

"You can see him? Do you know where?" Lung moving about the city wasn't especially unusual. Pretender seemed to be looking blankly into space for a moment while still simultaneously focusing on Hannah. It didn't feel like she'd broken eye contact even though she was clearly looking at something else.

"It's in the next... no, one block over from the next. I can't really see him, though. I just know he's there. There's about a hundred people in the block... the largest single group is the gang, though. Then there's Lung, " Clarity returned to Pretender's eyes and she shrugged. "I have a vague perception of living things. It's not very accurate. Mostly it gives me a count of the people in the nearby blocks to about the nearest hundred, a rough idea of the largest like groupings, and... big things. Like Lung." There was a flicker across her eyes and she frowned. "If I said there were giant dogs, would that mean anything to you?"

"... it would. Excuse me, I need to deal to this. I'm so sorry." Pretender shrugged and got up to make herself another hot chocolate. As if she hadn't just provided potentially vital information. Miss Militia didn't sigh, but she stepped out of the trailer and picked up the incoming call from Armsmaster as soon as the door was close. Just for that ability alone she'd prove invaluable, but the girl was hard to read.

"Thinker power too?" Well, at least he was direct.

"She claims Lung is two blocks west of our location with an unknown number of normal gang members. Hellhound seems to be on site. The lack of fire leads me to believe that they've not engaged yet." A small mercy. Perhaps a big one.

"Revenge hit probably. Rerouting. See if you can borrow Pretender's staff; but don't let her get engaged. She's not nearly tough enough for Lung." Hannah acknowledged and then hung up. She'd just reached for the door when it opened. Pretender stepped out, helmet and hoodie back on.

"Sorry, I need to get home. It's... kind of late." Couldn't fault the girl for that; although she hated to leave this interview unfinished. "You can borrow the staff though. For Lung. I'd like to know how effective it is on Brutes anyway. So long as I get it back...?" The girl offered the item in question and, after a brief hesitation, Hannah took it from her.

"I'll return it personally. You have my word. Is there a way we can get in contact with you? Do you have a cell phone?" Pretender shook her head. Hannah frowned, then quickly hopped into the MCU and rummaged through the drawers until she found something to write with and scribbled down an email address. The paper was offered to the girl. "You can email?" She nodded. Good, good. "Alright. Send me a message as soon as you can. If you're interested in joining up at all I'd like to arrange some things."

"I will. You should go now. I think they might be fighting." Hannah nodded, and began jogging in the direction Pretender had given her. The girl watched her go, and then turned and walked off into the night.

Some time later Taylor quietly slipped back into her house through the front door. The boots seemed to dampen all sorts of sounds; including, weirdly enough, the door opening and closing. Stairs didn't even creak as she went upstairs and stripped off all the gear; stuffing it into the back of her closet. Then she went down and sat on her bed. There wasn't any tiredness; what little mental fatigue she'd accrued from the night's exertions had been recovered by the boots. It was weird to think that she hadn't slept in months. Just another little oddity attributed to her power set.

She'd have to reveal some more to the PRT going forward. At some point. Although she'd explained in general terms how some bits of her abilities functioned she'd left out quite a lot. It was for the best. Going to them had seemed smart and they'd been... alright. Armsmaster was a bit awkward, although she supposed she was too, and Miss Militia had seemed nice enough. It was hard to say.

Her dad shifted in his sleep. Taylor closed her eyes and saw him, clear as if she was in the same room, turning uneasily. Before the incident she hadn't known how little he slept, or how hard he worked. Of course she knew that he worked hard to provide for both of them but... well, knowing what he did all day almost firsthand made her appreciate him all the more, really.

He'd be proud of her, in the end. She wanted to be a hero because of him; in that she wanted to improve the city. But, at least right now, she wasn't built for fighting villains. One day she'd be able to deal with them. Until then, she'd improve things for people. Taylor stood and grabbed her jar of green gems; pouring them out. Twelve... she sighed, and went to drag the large pot out from under her bed. She could get started, at least. It would take a while. The remaining few could be found later. A soft green glow filled the room as she laid out the gems and began to work on her next item.

The morning radio gleefully announced the capture of Lung by Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

 

Over the breakfast table Taylor made idle chatter with her father as she polished off the last of her food. In the view of the world that existed in the back of her mind he still shone in a way that made her feel guilty. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to him in those early moments when she’d woken up but she knew something had changed.

Wherever he went her sense for living creatures manifested around him just as it did for her. She could also not only see him and his surroundings directly, as if standing right there with him, but also just sort of knew what his physical and mental state was. Throughout the day she could feel his stress building as he tried to find work for everyone and make ends meet.

Every time that happened she started to reach out for him; only to stop when she realised she had no idea what might happen. Even now she could feel the invisible connection between them and knew in some indefinable way that she could do… something with it. Speak to him? Give him orders? The thought that it might be the latter scared her.

He kissed her forehead as they left and she made sure to trace him as he went to work. With Lung having been captured then the ABB would either go to ground or get riled up. If it were the latter she’d want to know he was safe, even if there wasn’t anything she could do to help. Perhaps she ought to get a phone.

She turned to cross the road and immediately stopped when her ring buzzed at her. It was very convenient for that sort of thing. A car hooned past her and as soon as the warning stopped she started walking again. Since she’d started wearing it she’d barely bumped into anyone on the street, either. At least nobody that was upset if she did so.

As she neared the school gates it started to buzz again. Taylor sighed and turned to go round the back way. The ring went silent for a time and then started up again as she got close. One of those days, huh? Her eyes roamed across the school as she mentally tried to pick up on those within to the best of her ability.

Some familiar feelings, the vaguest shapes of people, loomed out at her. It was always hard to predict who would stand out. There were two people she didn’t recognise at all at the forefront; by inference she guessed they were the leaders of the local gangs, however. One person who always appeared, though, was Sophia.

That was concerning, actually. She’d had her suspicions ever since seeing Armsmaster but now that she could compare with Lung and Miss Militia too they’d all but been confirmed. There was something about Parahumans that made them register differently to her strange extra sense. Like they radiated some sort of aura of power. Armsmaster's had been rather tiny. Miss Militia's had been bigger. Lung's had been massive.

Sophia's was somewhere between Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

With her fears fully confirmed and the clear warning that someone was waiting to give her a bad day inside the school grounds she made the only sensible decision; Taylor turned around and walked away. At the first public restroom she came across she went in and put her weightless armour on underneath her hoodie and swapped out her sneakers for her boots. She wouldn’t wear them in-school but having them around was nice.

Putting the boots on made her feel a lot better. Ever since she’d woken up in the hospital bed she hadn’t really felt tired, as such, but what fatigue did accumulate simply melted away under the power of her equipment. There was practically a spring in her step as she navigated across town to the library.

Moving around like this seemed to make her perception less accurate. The rough feed she got for how many people were in the block ahead always changed when she actually moved into it. Well, it seemed to be more of an analogue division since there wasn’t really any point when suddenly she could see into the next block; the radius of her perception was moving with her.

She’d known who Armsmaster was beforehand and so he’d been easy to identify… somehow… Lung, too, was fairly distinct. But even people she didn’t know could take form in her mind to some degree. Generally it was those her power seemed to consider to be 'leaders' of some sort. Parahumans in particular would well up in the forefront of her mind with varying levels of energy surging out of them. Anything beyond the vaguest shape was rather indistinct and she felt strangely grateful for that. During her research online she’d found out what had happened when New Wave had tried to unmask and, well… it felt like knowing who Capes really were wasn’t particularly safe.

She was perfectly willing to use it to make sure there weren’t any other Parahumans in the library, however. Even if Brockton had an abnormally large amount of them they weren’t sufficiently numerous to be everywhere she went. Still; to make sure she waited outside for a few minutes until the strange sensory feedback had stabilised somewhat before finally heading in.

There was a computer facing away from the door free and not many other people around. Both good for what she was doing. The card with Miss Militia’s PRT email address on it was still sitting at home on her desk but she could read it reasonably well from there. Her ‘vision’ inside of her house seemed to be pretty good.

Or as useful as it was she found the enhanced awareness to be the most irritating aspect of her powers. Everything else was… well, she didn’t understand it all that well but it was a lot more sensical than her bizarre not-sight. The information was clear to her but very hard to explain in reasonable terms. That was what made it frustrating; if she ever had to describe it to someone she’d sound daft.

The email she sent was fairly perfunctory. Congratulating Miss Militia and giving a short list of times she’d be free to meet with someone to talk and get her staff back. She also noted that she had no intention of going out on her own without it; partially to mollify the other Cape and partially to emphasise how important it was for her to actually get it back. Not that she expected the PRT to try and steal it but given how interested Armsmaster had seemed in her gear she wouldn’t be surprised if he was already running tests on it.

Then it was time to do some more research. When she’d first got her powers she’d looked up various Cape groups and also searched for information for new Capes. Now, though, she wanted something a bit different. Taylor wanted.. No, she needed money. Finishing High School with reasonable grades wasn’t looking to like it would be a safe bet any more. Even with the ring warning her about potential altercations she still found that she was being frequently sabotaged in a variety of ways.

She’d not even used her locker since the incident. Everything was kept in her bag and the bag was kept with her. Only homework handed directly to a teacher seemed to be safe. Anything else was at risk of mysteriously disappearing before the marking could be done. Now that she knew for certain what Sophia was that left her with some suspicions.

As she examined the Brockton Bay Sub-Board of Parahumans Online she checked the various listings for known Parahumans in the bay. The Wards and Empire Eighty-Eight were both discounted for obvious reasons; everyone knew the former went to Arcadia and Sophia being black rather ruled out the latter.

The best guess she had was a litte-known cape called ‘Parian’. She wore a full-face mask and what was probably a wig, but wasn’t especially active. Her power seemed to be some sort of Master ability… that could potentially explain how her work kept going missing. Apart from that there was another minor Cape who had a full-body concealing getup by the name of Grue.

They’d been active for longer and had recently grown into the public eye a bit more due to some scuffles with the ABB. Also, the thread was pretty sure that Grue was male. Taylor didn’t want to make assumptions; Sophia was fairly fit and didn’t have the sort of physique that might make it obvious just yet. Without a clear description of heights she had difficulty guessing, though.

Further speculation wouldn’t serve her any and, so, she moved on to her next task. Employment. After some consideration she sent a tentative message to two accounts that were, so it seemed, ‘confirmed’ Capes. The first one was one of the senior members of New Wave and the second was known as ‘Faultline’; head of a mercenary group that operated out of the Bay.

Her message was farly simple and to the point; Tinker-Trump wanting to make and sell items. The designation was a bit iffy but it ought to get the point across. Really, she was more inclined toward the latter of her choices than the former. Faultline’s mercenary crew weren’t exactly good people but they seemed to have enough ethics that it was hard to call them out-and-out ‘villains’, as such. The real key here was payment.

Taylor had been intending to sell her items to the PRT at first. Then she’d realised a few unfortunate facts. If they bought from her they’d want to do so legitimately; quite possibly with some sort of work contract and direct bank transfers. New Wave were likely, in her mind, to be a bit more flexible; even if a number of their members actually worked in law. If they weren’t willing to pay her in cash then at least they might be a bit more willing to negotiate the details.

Faultline, on the other hand, could probably be trusted not to screw her and would undoubtedly be happy to pay in cash. That was preferable. Of course, she then needed to find a way to explain to her father… but, well, she had an idea for that too. It wasn’t the best idea but it would at least be able to explain her influx of money and, potentially, her ceasing to go to school.

Taylor had been intending to come back the next day to check her messages; which is why she was quite surprised when one came in right as she was preparing to log off and leave. It contained a time, an address, and a query as to the suitability of both; from a brand new account other than the ones she’d messaged. Although, they had referenced her message… so one of the two parties wanted to meet anonymously.

As she considered her reply another message came through; this one from Lady Photon. It was a lot less terse than the other and offered to meet up in either a casual or more official fashion; which is to say, she was being offered a choice between coming as a Cape or as a civilian. In the end, Taylor thanked her for the consideration and said she would prefer the former. The response was quite quick as well and they hashed out a meeting for the weekend.

The other one was therefore, by process of elimination, Faultline. Considering her previous working speed Taylor responded asking if a time could be arranged for the next week; some haggling back and forth managed to get her an appointment at a downtown club just before midnight in about a week. That should give her time to finish the items she wanted to show off based on what she’d read about the group.

Thinking about it, she took the time to write out a rough list of the things she knew she’d be able to make and detailed what they did in somewhat vague terms. With Faultline there would be a limit to what she was willing to sell and, so, she’d be the one showing off. However, when it came to New Wave she was less sure what they might be interested and, so, she made a basic catalogue of sorts for them to peruse before the meeting.

Satisfied, she sent the document, logged off and secreted herself in a quiet corner with a thick book. Not that she was actually reading it; well, she was due to the nature of her split senses but primarily she was watching her father go about his day. It was somewhere between relaxing and heart-wrenching to see the effort that he put into trying to keep all of his workers employed.

Maybe she could help with that. There were a few items that might make cleaning up the actual bay a bit more feasible. Surely there was something of value to be salvaged? Yeah. Maybe one or two things could be ‘donated’ to make tearing down the boat graveyard a bit easier. She knew that dad had been wanting to try and re-establish the ferry for years now but it seemed to never be an economical option. Nobody was interested in it.

She sighed and put the book away. Might as well go home and get started on the items for Faultline. First, though, she had to go through a few spots in town and look for gems. Her current project was going to need more of the green ones… and she’d need more still after that for the things she intended to sell Faultline.

The weather was nice and the nearest park was fairly pleasant. Taylor spent an hour or two climbing trees and rooting in bushes; she only managed to dig up a few, though, and also an errant white gem that had been sitting in a bird’s nest. Not quite enough to even finish the item already in progress. Well, it would take a while anyway. She might have to put it on hold…

Taylor sighed. The cauldron would be important once it was finished but if she wanted to make the most of her situation she’d need to let that slide for a while. Even if she did decide to join the Wards, which she was still not quite sure about, having those extra connections couldn’t hurt at all.

Best to get to work, then. She began her jog home and tried to ignore the constant influx of information. What little fatigue that built up in her muscles quickly drained away and her pace reached a speedy equilibrium. Once she was safely ensconced in her room she pulled out her jars of gems and went to work.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

As Sarah Pelham read through the list of items that were being offered for sale by this mysterious new Parahuman she felt a growing sense of disconcertion. Quite a few of these were just bizarre. Quite a few weapons… most of which had a helpful little note appended to the description of their effects that read, “Probably lethal.” It was the phrasing that got her, though. Probably?

A few jumped out at her, though. The claim about one item was that it could grant a form of danger sense. A pair of boots that guaranteed doubled running speed. Then… well, the items were listed by type rather than grouping similar effects so she’d almost scrolled right past the half-dozen helmets when one had jumped out at her.

“Neil!” She landed on the rooftop near her husband, having paused mid-air to read the attached document on her phone, and held it out for him. He took it and flicked through. She’d highlighted a few of the entries in particular and he paused on them for a time.

“This is that same person?” His eyes lingered on a description on the page he was on. They’d definitely want some sort of confirmation or proof of concept, but if this was accurate… “Should we forward it to Carol?” Sarah nodded, and did so. This could benefit all of them greatly. Assuming a few particular entries were accurate.

It was almost innocuous, really. ‘Dragon Helmet: Strong defensive headgear. Provides enhanced night vision, resistance to heat and flames, and significant boost to mental fortitude.’ Even if she tried to hide it Sarah knew that Amy was under a lot of stress. Partially self-inflicted, and partially… well, it couldn’t be helped.

Assuming their claims were accurate then, well, the real problem would picking what to buy. She rather expected a high price tag for any one of these; let alone all of the ones she’d noted might potentially benefit from. Still, if this Cape could actually deliver then they may well have a good working relationship with this ‘Pretender’

Even if the name was a little weird.

 

The world glistened like a jewel beneath her as she pulled herself into the sky. All around her lines of magic flowed inwards from a dozen thrones, from a hundred sites of power, from a thousand priests, from a hundred thousand worshippers.

As she rose her eyes fixed on the thing she couldn’t see but knew was there. Hands outstretched called out to the power below and shining pearls flew into formation around her by the hundreds. Space warped and twisted and the sky split open to reveal the abomination.

It dwarfed her, dwarfed the land, dwarfed the seas, dwarfed the stars. So she grew. Splitting and spreading; forming hands and eyes in mass to focus upon it and direct her power. Light and heat and wrongness flashed out from it to cross the void between them; hewing towards the lands below. Her hands reached out…

Taylor sat up straight in her seat so fast that she nearly fell out of her chair. Someone was knocking on her door. She looked around frantically; her hammer was sitting on her desk along with a half-finished ring, and she was still in the same clothes from yesterday.

“Ah… I’m up, dad! I’m up!” The knocking paused and she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that months of not sleeping had caught up with her. Rather, she’d exhausted herself. Until now she’d always taken breaks between her crafting sessions; trying to make two straight in a row had knocked her out for… at least eight hours, it looked like.

“You feeling alright? It’s not like you to miss your morning run.” Four months ago he would have come in to check on her. After the incident she’d impressed her need for privacy on him. She was glad he was respecting that but… it stung a little to know she was shutting him out.

“Yeah. Tired. Slept in. I’ll be down for breakfast in a moment.” She could see his worried expression turn into a bitter frown. Taylor clenched her fists for a moment before relaxing. What could she do? What could she say?

“Okay. Don’t let it get cold.” He paused for a moment and she knew he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. From her point of view she could see through the whole house; all these walls might as well not be there. Yet… it seemed like the ones between her and him just grew every day.

Taylor changed into fresh clothes and pocketed her rings and amulet. Meditating on her powers, looking for gems, making items… it was easy. It made sense to her. That was just doing things. Dealing with her father, though…

She knew that she loved him. He tried so hard, even though neither of them knew what to do. Yet there was so much that they didn’t talk about. Knowing what she was doing, why she was doing it… that wouldn’t make him feel better.

Breakfast was a quiet, awkward affair. Almost laughably so. The whole world spun in the back of her head, and yet she couldn’t breach the distance formed by a kitchen table. He asked about school and she answered, truthfully, that things were better. Only because of her, though. That, and she wasn’t going more often than she was nowadays.

In the end he left for work and she left to catch the bus. Only as soon as he was far enough away she doubled back into the house. The evening after her library trip she’d finally recalled the old clunker of a desktop computer they had and used it to see if Miss Militia had responded to her. Luckily she had, and had offered a two o’clock meeting with a couple of the Wards that Friday. Today, now.

There’d been a slightly funny offer of a letter to her parents if she needed to be removed from school. Taylor had declined. Winslow didn’t really seem to care much about her skipping classes. With the gang population they had that was unsurprising.

She’d split the few days she had between searching for more gems and making items. The former was becoming harder… none of the places she’d checked in the last two weeks had any. Taylor had found herself going further and further afield in the hopes of picking them up. Her main project might well have to be shelved indefinitely until she knew what New Wave wanted.

For now, though, she had a few hours left. First she pulled her boots out of the closet and put them on. Her relief was almost palpable as they devoured her remaining physical exhaustion. Didn’t do anything for the fuzziness in her head, though. Oh well. She fished the unfinished out of her pocket and she opened up her jar of red gems.

Usage of the hammer had proved to be kind of funny. She smashed one of the red gems underneath it; striking until it had been crushed to a red powder. Then she placed the unfinished ring in the powder and began to infuse it with power. The gem dust gathered on the item and once it had fully covered the surface she struck it with the hammer.

For all of the extra effort added, although not time, this was only barely more efficient than the usual way. Still; when you were tight for gems it was the best way. When she was finally done she wiped the sweat off her brow and smiled with self-satisfaction. The band looked goldish and she was pretty sure that was meant to be a ruby. Were either of those true? Maybe it would be valuable for other reasons…

Not that she’d be selling these just for the materials. That would be rather wasteful. Now then… time to head out. Change pants, rings on, amulet on, helmet bundled up in her new cloak and then both into a brown paper bag before heading out of the house. She waited until she was at least a block away from home before slipping into an alleyway and changing again.

Taylor couldn’t help but smile as she jogged through the city. Running felt pretty good ever since her change happened. She didn’t lose breath in the same way as she once had, especially not with her boots on, and whatever muscle pains she acquired quickly went away when she stopped. Thus, she got to enjoy the feeling of running without the pain. It might be the best bit about her powers.

Her look had started coming together a bit more with her completion of another item. She still wore all of her items from before, along with a pair of old jeans, but now she had a brand new black cloak on over top as well. It had stung a bit to use the green gems but she had consoled herself through the fact that it was only three of them thanks to her hammer. The loss of her old dressing gown had been less distressing; especially since she’d managed to make it form a hood in the process.

As she ran her boots muffled the sound to almost nothing; she cut through an alleyway and crossed some broken glass that almost miraculously failed to crack underfoot. The cloak, meanwhile, was constantly shifting its colours and apparent textures to match her surroundings as she moved. The result was that… well, she was rather difficult to see coming. Or going, for that matter.

It made hurrying a little it more convenient; which was quite good given that she was very nearly running late for her meeting with two of the Wards.

Thoughts for another time. She came to a halt at the edge of the park where she was meant to be meeting the two Wards and began to scan the area. A public place had been suggested for fairly obvious reasons. They’d definitely stick out and… yup.

Miss Militia was standing beside a young man in a red costume with a shield shaped like a capital ‘A’ emblazoned on his chest and a young girl in what appeared to be a green armoured vest. The former was holding Taylor’s staff loosely in one hand and twirling a green-black switchblade between the fingers of the other. That was a relief, actually. Even if she hadn’t really thought that they’d keep it.

Taylor pushed her hood back and made sure to jog leisurely towards them in direct line of sight. Compared to their fairly professional looking costumes she looked rather out of place. As she approached Miss Militia spotted her and waved, then turned and spoke to the others.

“Hello! Sorry if I kept you waiting.” She slowed her jog to a walk once she was close enough for them to hear her and then stopped just in front of them. The girl offered her a smile and Taylor returned a nod; it was the best she could do with her helmet on.

“Not at all.” Miss Militia offered the staff to her, still one-handed, and Taylor likewise took it and held it at her side. Then the hero looked to her companions and gestured at them in turn. “This is Aegis and Vista.” Both Wards, of course. Some sort of flying brute and… she honestly wasn’t sure what the latter did. Her mind flickered back to her room for an instant, where a hastily prepared makeshift pin board had hasty notes about most of the city’s capes. That said… distance manipulation? Taylor was pretty sure that was her handwriting but even so…

“It’s nice to meet both of you. You can call me Pretender.” Taylor offered a hand and Vista was the first to shake. Aegis stood there for a moment, seemingly hesitant, and then followed suit.

“Isn’t there a Ward by that name in Las Vegas?” He spoke up shortly thereafter; glancing over at Miss Militia for confirmation. She nodded; much to Taylor’s surprise. It had felt like a fairly safe bet for a name, and had also felt strangely appropriate.

“Just one of a few things to discuss. My intention was for the Wards to go about a usual round of patrolling with you and I accompanying them. Once we’ve cleared up a few minor matters I’ll leave the three of you and you may speak to them further on your own.” Well, Taylor knew she wasn’t changing her name. Besides, the other Pretender was all the way over in Las Vegas; they could just deal with it.

“Sounds good to me. So… lead the way, I guess.” Taylor fell into step beside the trio as they walked; Aegis and Vista only sticking with them until they reached the street. Then the two took to the rooftops; the former by floating up there in a way that made her feel jealous, and the latter simply by waiting a few moments and then rising two stories in a single step.

“Cape names aren’t trademarked.” The sudden, seemingly non-sequitur statement from Miss Militia confused her for a moment. “I would recommend you pick a different one, although we can’t force you to do so.” They probably could, actually. In a manner of speaking. All they’d need to do would be to have a press release assigning her a different name.

“I’ll think about it.” There had been a few alternatives that Taylor had been considering, but… well, they all seemed rather arrogant. This one was more appropriate to how she felt about her situation. “We’re on opposite sides of the country, though. I don’t think anyone would confuse us.” That she’d never heard of them seemed to be justification enough for her to keep the name.

“True enough. Still, they were first.” Eh. It wasn’t a big deal. Not like she was going around calling herself Hero or something. “That’s a minor matter, however. There’s something else we need to talk about.” Taylor quirked an eyebrow automatically before realising that the other woman couldn’t see under her helmet.

Miss Militia retrieved a fairly fancy phone from her pocket and flicked through it for a moment before handing it to Taylor. She looked through it with a growing pit in her stomach. “We were forwarded this by Sarah Pelham, Lady Photon, of New Wave. Apparently they were contacted by a new Tinker-Trump that wanted to meet with them to discuss purchasing some of the items listed there.”

They were hers, of course. In retrospect she really ought to have expected this. “Try not to be upset with them. They reached out to us out of concerns regarding the… legitimacy of this offer.” Or, to put it another way, they were afraid she was trying to trick them. Which was a valid fear, she supposed.

“Am I in trouble?” Part of the reason she’d reached out to independent groups rather than the PRT was concerns over the legality of her selling her items. Particularly when she was technically a minor. This must be why Miss Militia had come herself instead of just sending her staff with Aegis.

“That depends on a few things. Since nothing has yet changed hands there’s no problem, is there?” But there might be. To her surprise Miss Militia smiled at her; at least she seemed to, under the scarf. “New Wave was a good choice. Brandish’s legal expertise will serve you well. Do you intend to sell to anyone else?” Taylor considered lying to her, but… that didn’t feel very wise.

“Yes. But none of the weapons. And not to any of the gangs, either.” The older woman seemed to approve of that, and nodded appreciatively.

“Sensible. Why did you not want to approach us?” That made her flinch. Taylor hadn’t expected her to be so direct about it. Even if it was… well, okay, it was pretty clear that she didn’t want to deal with them for some reason.

“... I was concerned you’d want me to divulge my real identity if I was to sign up with or do business with you. For now, at least, I’d prefer to keep that to myself.” There was a tiny bit more to it than that, but it was nothing more than unfounded suspicions that she’d feel bad to air here.

“I see. Well, that was a valid fear. If you joined the Wards program then we would need parental permission. Which, of course, would require us to know your civilian identity.” Taylor had thought as much. Being bound by the Protectorate’s oversight would make it harder for her to manage her own time. “But if you wish to retain your independence then we ought to be able to do business. I’d advise you to seriously consider joining the Wards, however.”

“I’m still thinking about it. My situation is…” Taylor waved a hand vaguely. “Complex. I’m still working out some elements of my power that aren’t especially straightforward.” The powers she was working towards aside most of her abilities were very hard to use without killing people.

“That is something we could help you with.” Miss Militia’s weapon flickered from one hand to the other as she spoke; she frequently holstered it in one form or another only for it to return to her hands. It looked like she didn’t really notice. “When I first joined the Wards I had some difficulties with my ability. They provided me with support and a safe place to practice.”

Taylor considered that for a moment. That sort of thing hadn’t actually occurred to her. Miss Militia seemed to take note of her quietness and nodded. “I’ll leave you to consider that. Aegis and Vista can tell you a bit more about what it’s like to be a Ward; I haven’t been one for a long time.” She put a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder for a moment. “And if you’re having any concerns or difficulties, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you. I… I appreciate it.” Aegis landed beside them and Vista flickered from rooftop to ground. Miss Militia said her farewells to both of them and then went on her own way. Taylor looked over to the two and they stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Ah… so… do you want to continue with your patrol? I mean, as long as you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“We don’t mind at all!” Vista was very cheerful, as it turned out. She took Taylor by the hand and pinched at the space between the ground and nearby rooftop. It was still quite strange to see in action. “C’mon, you can walk with me.” Just like that she was pulled through the space warp and up on to the roof.

The patrol was interesting, at least. Aegis and Vista explained the perks of becoming a Ward as they walked; the latter pulling the edges of buildings together so they could step between them and the former walking alongside them. Mostly, as Aegis explained, they just wandered around and kept an ear out for trouble.

“So, MM didn’t tell us what it was you… do... Just that you’re some sort of Trump-Tinker-Striker-Thinker-Soldier-Sailor.” Taylor was about to answer Vista when the last two words caught up with her brain. She tried to give the younger girl an incredulous look, but the helmet made it hard. Still; she seemed to get her point across.

“Well, last two aside…” She paused thoughtfully. “No, actually, I think I can probably make a boat at some point. So I guess just forget the second to last one.” Aegis chuckled; both at the joke and, presumably, Vista’s surprise. “I think Tinker-Trump would actually be fine. Given enough time I can improve my powers and invest them into objects.”

Vista whistled appreciatively. Even Aegis looked impressed but it was kind of hard to tell given he was also wearing a full-face helmet. “What? I mean… I know that’s not exactly normal and all, but it took me three months just to figure out how to make most of the stuff I have on; let alone actually doing it.”

“Even so. Any Parahuman with the ability to increase in strength over time is a valued asset. Just look at Dauntless.” Taylor tilted her head; most of her research had been focused on the villains more than the Protectorate members of the Bay. Of course she knew who Dauntless was, it would be hard not to, but the details of his powers.. Not so much.

“Oh, he has a bunch of gear that he progressively boosts over time. Apparently he started out with this dinky little taser staff and now it’s this super cool lightning spear!” Well, Vista certainly was enthusiastic. Aegis floated around in front and began moving backwards so he could explain.

“There’s differences, of course. Your items can be used by other people. Kid Win was going crazy over tha-” There was a sudden roaring from down the street and Taylor’s internal headcount suddenly dropped by ten people. The sound turned out to be a wave of fire pouring out of the front of a building.

By the time Vista had created a path for them Aegis was already hurtling towards the building. He dropped to the ground beside a stunned bystander; patting them a couple of times on the cheek until they focused on him. Taylor began to sprint as soon as she reached the ground and shortly overtook Vista. As she approached the pair ahead she heard Aegis asking the man to call nine-one-one.

She dropped her staff as she walked past him and straight into the doorway before he could so much as call out. Flames danced over and around her; tongues of fire licking over her legs and arms and faced. Everything was bright and slightly warm, but no worse than that. Her hand stretched out and the fire surged; the parts she touched pouring towards and into the gem atop her ring.

It was unique amongst the resistance rings she could make. Neither the electrical nor the cold ones did this. Everywhere she walked flames were torn away and consumed by the red jewel shining on her hand. She turned around and saw Aegis standing in the doorway, presumably staring at her in shock.

“Come on. There might be people upstairs, and I can’t fly.” He started, and then nodded; moving over to follow in her lead as she cleared a path for them through the flames. The effect only worked on the parts that touched her; the fire skittered across her gear and was devoured by the ring. Their route remained open for a time but then the raging inferno closed up behind them again.

Taylor put a hand under her chin and dipped her head; the ring did nothing for the smoke, but it didn’t seem to be causing her a lot of trouble. They scoured the room on the lower floor without much luck. There were people to be found. None of them would be called survivors. Clothes and skin had already been charred black.

They left the dead behind and moved into the stairwell out back; he gingerly tucked his arms under hers and lifted her upstairs without much difficulty. No telling if that stairwell could take her weight still. There was more smoke and less fire here; clearly it had started in the room below. Aegis began to slam his shoulder against one of the sturdier while calling out for anyone to answer them.

She pushed him aside and pressed her left hand to the door. The wood blackened under her palm as she pushed harder until she was able to force it through and fumble around for the deadbolt on the other side. As soon as she got it she pulled her hand back and Aegis kicked out; shattering the normal lock and knocking the door open.

“Check on him! I’ll do the other rooms.” The room appeared to be an office, and it was occupied a portly Caucasian man who was coughing so hard from all the smoke that he couldn’t have called out for help. Aegis rushed in as Taylor moved on and checked the other doors; all unlocked. The rooms looked to be for meetings or some such thing; none were occupied.

“Clear?” Aegis called out to her as she rushed back into the office and she nodded. He turned to the windows, security bars across the outside, and then looked back to her and the man. One of the panes of glass was smashed and spoke was pouring out of it. “We need to get him out of here.” Made more difficult by the likely need for him to carry both of them downstairs before the building collapsed from the fire.

Their problem was quickly rendered moot as the window cracked. Bars and glass bent aside as the hole widened greatly; walls buckling under the expansion. Smoke rushed out of the room and Aegis immediately picked up the civilian by the shoulders. “Get the legs, and let’s get out of here!” They lifted together and walked out of the new opening to find themselves beside Vista on the main street.

Moments later there was a creak as part of the building’s front collapsed in. Under the weight of surging flame and the stress of Vista’s time and life-saving alterations the floor had finally given way. Taylor walked over to where her staff was and picked it up again while the Wards checked on the one they’d saved.

Steam began to hiss and rise from the inferno as she aimed her staff at the burning building. Every time she evoked its power a blast of cold air surged out from inside the fire. It didn’t feel much more effective than tossing a bucket of water but it was all she could do. Sirens heralded the approach of fire engines.

By the time they arrived the fire had close to burnt out. Not due to Taylor’s efforts; there had been a secondary blast of some sort barely a minute earlier that had resulted in a kind of implosion that caused the remainder of the building to collapse inwards and the flames to be reduced to embers. They went in even so; extinguishing every trace in order to make sure that nothing spread.

Taylor stood with Aegis and Vista as paramedics checked the man they’d saved. Smoke inhalation, and some overheating, but he’d be more or less fine. The other two had called in for further instructions; they were to wait until someone from the Protectorate arrived to debrief them, and had politely asked Taylor do the same.

“Thank you.” Aegis broke the silence. They’d been sort of standing around awkwardly staring at the burnt-out ruin as the fire crews picked over it. Police would probably be arriving soon to assess the scene. “I’m not sure we would have gotten to him without you.” She flushed under the helmet, and shook her head.

“I’m sure you would have. You two are the professionals.” Whereas she’d rushed into a burning building and relied on an untested item to protect her. She’d not have found the man without Aegis’ help, nor got out without Vista.

“Sure we are; but that doesn’t mean we can’t be grateful, right?” Vista grinned and Taylor felt… good. She would give joining up serious consideration once she was finished with her preparations. There were things to be done, first.

The three of them got into a conversation about her ring that gradually segued into the possibility of business for the city’s fire department; an avenue she hadn’t considered. Yet, as Taylor chatted idly with them while they waited she couldn’t help but pay notice to something unpleasant.

Clearly this fire had been an intentional thing; if the sudden blast of fire hadn’t been enough of a sign then the secondary explosion definitely was. She didn’t know why this place in particular was targeted but she did know one thing. Someone had come into the range of her perception not long after the second blast. She didn’t recognise them specifically but she did recognise one thing in particular.

Their Parahuman aura was near-identical in size to Armsmaster’s.

 

Taylor learned a few interesting things during the debrief. For example, the standard practice amongst professional firefighters was to take anyone they found out of the fire regardless of their state of injury. She’d been able to tell who was dead or alive quite easily so it hadn’t been a problem for her but Aegis had nodded resolutely and promised the leader of the response team that he’d do so next time.

More interesting to her had been the target. The lower area had been a bar while the upper had apparently had a series of private meeting works as well as the locked office they’d retrieved the survivor from. It was fairly clear to everyone that this was some sort of targeted attack rather than a random choice; however, since the only victim was still having trouble talking they did not as yet know why they had been targeted. Gang related was a safe bet.

Even more interesting still was how they had set up a tent around the site as soon as Armsmaster had arrived. It all but confirmed her own suspicions regarding the strangeness of the explosion and the out of place watcher. Parahuman involvement. Which probably meant Tinker. Maybe some terrifying form of Master but that didn't bear thinking about without further evidence. That meant Taylor was faced with a fairly significant dilemma. She should tell them about the person she ‘saw’. But that would mean revealing her ability to identify Parahumans.

That was a dangerous road. A Cape who could do that wouldn’t be tolerated. The heroes would be quite nervous but the villains would be downright murderous. For now she had to keep it to herself. Putting such thoughts aside she focused on the more awkward part of the debriefing; explaining what she had done to the door.

Taylor had really not wanted to reveal her lethal abilities. Letting them think that she couldn’t leverage deadly force without her created weaponry seemed… safer. Knowing that she could quite probably kill people on a touch wouldn’t do anything good for her reputation. Still… it was out now.

“If you’re willing to get me a block of wood I can demonstrate it for you.” She was, at that moment, sitting with Miss Militia inside the now familiar caravan-trailer-thing that the PRT brought to scenes. Armsmaster was busy inside the tent and she was yet to meet any other members of the Protectorate.

“I think we can do that.” The older woman was typing out a message on her phone as she talked; doubtlessly requesting something. “Can you show me it? This power you used.” Taylor nodded, and held out her hand; but not too far out. Miss Militia carefully shifted back to avoid contact.

For some reason it had to be the left hand. Her skin turned black and the hand became noticeably thinner. She touched it to the metal of the table and… nothing at all. No effect. Save that the point she touched maybe became a tiny bit shinier. Which was bizarre, considering one of the effects she knew her power had. That wasn’t something she planned to mention, though. “Interesting. Do all of your power usages come with visual changes?” In response Taylor channeled her sleeping touch instead. The black hue vanished but nothing else happened. She shook her head and Miss Militia chuckled. “Duly noted.” A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a uniformed man with a armful of planks of wood and briefly disrupted their discussion.

He was followed by Armsmaster, who looked… tense. Taylor could see it in the set of his jaw and shoulders. As he entered he visibly forced himself to relax and smile at her. It was kind of him, she supposed, but she could also guess why he was upset. At least she didn’t have to worry about telling him about the likely culprit.

“Pretender. Miss Militia tells me you’ve surprised us yet again.” He started to remove little devices from his armour and halberd in order to arrange them around the table. Scanners, probably. Then he paused midway through placing one and looked over at her. “My apologies; do you mind?”

“No, I don’t.” They know she has the power and maybe they can help her understand it a bit more. Though she... kind of doubted that. Armsmaster finished placing his measuring devices and then delicately put the plank on the table before backing off. Taylor called on the power once more and put her hand on the wood.

As the black stain spread across the wood she wondered why they were doing this here. Probably don’t want to invite her back to their headquarters before they know her ultimate disposition. Which made sense. Either that, or they didn’t want to keep her for longer than they have to. When she lifted her hand most of the wood had turned black. Armsmaster poked it with a thin metal rod and it collapsed into a pile of black dust.

“Fascinating. Do you mind…?” He gestured to the remaining pile of wood. She shrugged, and they carried on. In the end they tested a few things. Whether she could focus the ability at all, whether the area or duration of contact made any difference, whether clothing impeded it, whether body armour impeded it and what happened when they stacked the remaining wood on top of itself. The results had been, in order; no, none at all, the cotton had also decayed, the wood under the armour had decayed and, lastly, the first two planks were both affected.

Armsmaster had declared they had enough data by that point, at least for now, and that she was free to go; although, apparently they might have more tests later. He seemed somewhere between frustrated and excited. Miss Militia, still seeming the far more conscientious one, offered her something surprisingly low-tech; a pager.

“It might seem basic but it’s more or less impossible to break. If there’s a situation we think you might be able to help with then we can get you a message directly. You have my personal guarantee there’s no way to track you through it either.” Taylor wasn’t sure if she ought to trust that but Miss Militia had been kind and honest thus far. If she said they couldn’t track it… well, she was going to accept it.

“Thank you for all of this. I should be heading home, though. My parents will be wondering where I am.” She barely managed to prevent herself from just saying ‘dad’. If Miss Militia picked up on it then she didn’t show any signs. “I’ll think about selling my items to the PRT and Protectorate, as well.” That got a faint nod but she got the impression that the woman wasn’t all that fussed either way. Aegis and Vista were waiting for her outside the trailer. The latter seemed calm but the former looked just a tiny bit nervous.

“I hope you’re not in trouble?” It was nice that he was worried, but they seemed fairly dedicated to the opposite of upsetting her. Miss Militia was firm, but polite and kind. Armsmaster had been cordial and respectful. Her personal misgivings aside she was starting to consider joining up with the PRT. Just a little.

“No, it’s fine. They’re just curious. Letting me go home now.” She was still quite nervous, of course, but there was no reason to let him know that. Suspicion was the last thing she wanted after all.

“Told you it would be okay.” Vista seemed just a little bit smug at that. “It’s normal for people to not want to share everything they can do, you know?” If that was true it explained the lack of surprise. Taylor smiled under her mask. The younger girl was fairly pleasant to be around.

“Thank you both again. Seriously. Apart from the fire and dead people I actually… kinda had fun. I hope that’s not weird?” Taylor couldn’t help but cringe a little at her own statement but, thankfully, Vista just laughed and jokingly punched her on the arm.

“Glad you’re not all bloodthirsty. Hopefully we’ll see you around?” She had to consider that for a moment, but then Taylor nodded. Yeah. With any luck she’d be a fair bit more active soon… although, hopefully not so much as an actual ‘Cape’.

“Would you like us to escort you somewhere, or are you good to get home on your own?” It actually warmed her chest a little to have Aegis offer to do that for her. Out of all the things she’d expected today seemingly genuine care was not up there.

“I’ll be fine, thank you.” They exchanged farewell platitudes for a little longer before she slipped away at last. An idle thought brought up the image of her father in her head as he flicked through papers and contracts. Their contents were obscured and his surroundings were washed out and dull, but his heavily lined face and worn sweater and the tension thick in his shoulders were clear.

But he was safe. She knew he was, of course, but seeing it directly relieved her. If there was a parahuman bomber in town… she didn’t want to consider what that might lead to. All Taylor knew was that it wasn’t good. Which meant that some of her future funds might end up going to waste.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

“I think… she might be lying to us.” Inside the vehicle, Colin looked up from his instruments as they worked on the evaluation of the bombing site. He’d set up sensors to examine some weird energy readings he’d got from his initial scan and had decided to follow that up before heading back to the lab. When there was no response he glanced behind him.

Hannah was seated at the table, sipping a coffee and staring at the wooden planks in their sealed plastic containers; awaiting transport and further analysis at a later date. She wasn’t ignoring him intentionally, and he knew that. Rather, she was probably considering what he himself couldn’t help but think about.

On-touch decay of organic matter. Worked through standard issue body armour. Worked rapidly and didn’t seem to require constant contact to take full effect, either. That was a power well-suited to indiscriminate murder. It could even destroy the evidence easily as well. He’d found himself idly wondering if his armour would block it at all.

He figured that they were both reconsidering inviting her to the Wards; not in terms of not wanting her to join, mind, but rather in terms of how vital it was that she did. If Pretender wanted to kill someone it was as easy as asking for a handshake, instantly rendering them unconscious and then tapping them in the face. That was a terrifying prospect.

Obviously she was a young girl with no obvious inclination to murder. But deadly powers weren’t any less deadly because you didn’t want to use them that way. Not least of which, but Colin had noticed an interesting little pattern.

Pretender had claimed to be a sort of Trump that infused power into objects and had some abilities in her own right; such as a few Striker powers, and a fairly interesting Thinker ability. That sort of weirdness was unusual to see, however, and he’d acquired a suspicion that he was now voicing.

“You think she is protecting someone.” And that was it right there. A Striker with a Thinker ability made more sense to him than a Trump that also had multiple other innate abilities. But if the Trump making her items was someone else… that made more sense.

“She was nervous about telling us. Do you think she-” His half-thought, half-accusation died under a withering glare from Miss Militia.

“No. She hasn’t hurt anyone, let alone killed. But I agree, her presented powers don’t add up unless she’s hiding items she hasn’t told us about. Which is possible, if she’s defeated your software.” Colin frowned at that. That was also nagging at him. The full-face mask threw it off a little bit but his lie-detection software was still usually reliable. Then again, she already had one Thinker ability and that was basically what he was emulating; Thinker abilities interacting strangely was a well-known phenomenon.

“Either wa-” There was a sudden, sharp ringing from their communicators. Both at once. The two shot each other a sharp look and then they were rushing for the door. Armsmaster practically leaping onto his bike and Miss Militia landed behind him an instant before he gunned it.

She wrapped one arm around him until they were up to speed and then formed a grenade launcher in the other hand. As soon as she had both arms free she loaded it with one of the containment foam rounds from her belt. He’d already pulled up the details on his helmet display and was starting to coordinate.

While they’d been investigating the site of the bombing someone had attacked the oil rig. Some sort of gravitational distortion had overloaded the shield generator and second blast of unknown function ripped a massive hole in the side; through which Oni Lee had invaded the facility and stolen the still heavily drugged-up Lung. The death toll was yet to be determined and they were unlikely to be able to recapture them.

The purpose of the bombing was now clear and Colin’s worst fears had been confirmed; one of the city’s most vicious gangs now had a Tinker with a speciality in explosive devices.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Taylor had changed back into her normal clothes and wrapped up her staff in an old sheet to conceal it as best she could. Carrying it still made her look weird but… well, it was better than openly carrying it, she supposed. Her ring had been quiet thus far and she was nearly home safe now. Which is why she wasn’t surprised when it went off as she turned to cut through a nearby park.

Sighing, Taylor changed her course when something caught her ears. The sound of muffled thumps and racial slurs flowing like water. She frowned and returned to her original path; following it to an area surrounded by a high chain-link fence and stepping through the gateless doorway into the disused basketball court beyond.

There was another doorway on the far side and, in the corner, two young men in rough clothes launching kicks and insults in equal measure at a huddled figure cowered under a bench while four more watched. One of them was idly holding a basketball and all the watchers were laughing about it. Taylor’s mind worked a mile a minute as she quickly yanked her balaclava out of her pocket and pulled it on.

“Hey! Stop that!” As they turned around she noted that in spite of her thinking of them as young men they were all decidedly older and bigger than her. She clutched her wrapped-up staff nervously as the kickers, the youngest of the two, stopped their work and let her see what she was protecting. They looked old; grey-hair and dirty clothes and very clearly homeless. There were a couple of bags of what looked like clothes and spare blankets they were curled around in a protective fashion.

Something in Taylor burned. In her minds eye she saw them.

Poorly armed and armoured almost universally; many bound and chained and whipped into battle. How desperately her followers preached and called out and promised and cajoled and even begged, at her behest, that their enemies might just stop and be free and unharmed. Pain searing her heart as they were thrown over and over again as wheat chaff to the harvesters to slow the advance of her armies.

Beings of immense power buying another month, week, day, hour, minute of life with the blood of countless innocents. At the core of it all, her fury. Those lives were precious. Those lives were sacred. Those lives… all of those wasted lives…

THOSE LIVES WERE HERS!

She flung out her hand and interrupted whatever vapid, cliched comments that the lead gang-member was going to make with four razor-sharp shards of stone that struck the ground and flung up chunks of concrete with a sound like a gunshot. Each one fully capable of killing a grown man in a single body blow so long as he wasn’t armoured. She wasn’t done, though.

A flicker of light and heat formed between her fingers as she glared at them. Something flowed out of her in waves that crushed what little will the pathetic mortals before her had to resist and each and every one stumbled backwards. When she spoke there was a force to her words; irresistible, indomitable, and mighty.

“One of these sparks can cripple a man for life. Which will be a few minutes at best, given it will burn out most of your internal organs and leave you writhing on the ground in agony until the sweet release of death claims you.” She held up her hand and six points of light flickered into existence above it. Then she held up her other hand, staff discarded and forgotten on the ground and six more appeared.

One of the young men, the biggest one that was also closest to her, soiled himself on the spot.

”I am never going to see any of you in gang clothes again.” And that was that. It wasn’t something so base as a threat. It wasn’t a demand. Nor was it even an order. This statement from a girl in a ski mask, half a foot shorter and probably a good sixty pounds lighter than them, was a proclamation of fact that none of them questioned because each one of them was utterly certain that her words were no less than an unholy gospel forged of terror and flame.

It wasn’t until they’d all fled, two literally dragging the one who’d shat himself between them since his legs had outright stopped working, that Taylor felt the hatred leaving her body. She didn’t understand why she’d felt so… angry. Nor why her threats had been so effective. All they’d seen were sparks and sharp stones.

She didn’t question it. Instead, she moved over to the homeless man and crouched down. He was trembling still and she hated that she didn’t have any ability to heal injuries. But before she could even begin to coax him out he opened his eyes and gazed upon her with a confused, wild-eyed stare.

There was a change in the metaphysical landscape of Taylor’s mind; a slight adjustment in the non-physical geography of her internal map. The man shuddered as if he felt something pass into him and then reached for her face while mumbling in muffled, broken-toothed Spanish.

“Dios no me abandona! Ángel!” She recoiled from him as he tried to touch her and then turned and bolted. He called after her, and she knew that he was begging her not to go. Yet still she fled. Taylor ran and ran well away from the man; tearing off her balaclava as she went. In the end she didn’t stop until she was safely home and ensconced within her bedroom.

She sat there for some time as she stared into the middle distance. Trying to change her mind. Trying to convince herself she was wrong. Trying desperately to rationalise what had just happened. What she’d done. Yet, above all else, beyond her words and deeds, the thing she tried most desperately to avoid thinking about was clear and visible in her head.

The fresh light burning in the back of her mind, like a candle shining in the darkness, and the dirty, dishevelled, grovelling man that could be found praying beneath it.

 

Diego Martinez had only ever considered himself a ‘Sunday Christian’. Devotion ran in his family but seemed to only stroll in him and when you found yourself living on the streets after medical bills pushed you into destitution it was hard to have much faith in anything. For the most part he kept himself to himself; rummaging through rubbish bins for food and sleeping under the bench in the basketball court.

It was a good spot. He’d found a plastic tarp that he could lay over the top to protect him from rain, and it was mostly out of wind. Nobody tended to use it in the mornings so he didn’t have to worry about being disturbed. But then, as he’d been getting ready to settle down for the night after a day of dumpster-diving, they’d found him.

Nowhere in the city was all that ‘safe’. There were shelters but they were often full and Diego didn’t trust the other occupants that much. Then, no matter whose ‘territory’ you were in there were risks. This time it was the Empire. He’d knew the routine. As long as he didn’t fight back they’d beat him for a bit to prove they were ‘hard’ enough and then the initiation ritual would be over. But then…

He trembled as he remembered the feeling. It had been terrifying and joyful all at once. But now was not the time to reminisce. No, he had a mission. It had come to him in the night; three weeks after he had seen Her. What he’d been waiting for. It wasn’t like words whispered in his ear, no; it was just a firm certainty of what he ought to do.

So he’d spoken to what few friends he had, as much as someone like him could have friends. Then he’d had a word with the local street gangs; mostly Hispanic and few in both numbers and strength. After promising them many things he finally managed to get them to agree to come and scope out what he was telling them. They must have found others because there were now a good few dozen people, thirty or forty in all, waiting for him.

They were a mix. Some old, like him; transients and vagrants. There were the young men and women, fathers and mothers and children. A few folks had brought their families. He’d made powerful promises with very little to go on but when you were desperate and hungry everything sounded good to you.

There were lots of birds around. Not ordinary ones, either. Birds of prey. Diego could see them resting in trees and on top of the building; it had been a community hall, once, before money had dried up and support for the little services that it had provided evaporated.

“Oi, Uncle Diego.” The leader of one of the family groups waved him over, frowning. Their relationship wasn’t really that familial but he’d been friends with the boy’s father, once. “Thought you said there was gonna be food here, ay?” He nodded and shuddered slightly as something passed over him. It was time to go inside.

“Follow me, Alex. You’ll see.” Although they did follow behind him Diego could sense the nervousness and discomfort from the crowd. They’d all see soon enough. He walked up to the door, pushed it open and went right in.

The interior was strange. It was wide open, with old blankets laid out on the floor all over the place and no other furniture except for a small, rickety, fold-out table that sat beside a sheet-covered object. On the table was an electric lamp that shed light throughout the room and a black plastic bag. Then… Diego froze as he saw Her.

She was different. Dressed in a heavy brown robe that hung loosely on her frame and taller than he remembered. Her face couldn’t be seen underneath the hood but he just knew she was looking at him. That really was Her. Alex bumped into him and was about to say something when he caught sight of the figure.

“It’s okay. They’re the one that saved me, Alejandro. Come in.” Diego walked up towards her as the others trailed in nervously and spread out. Although there were many more of them than Her they all seemed to feel ill-at-ease for some reason. Yet Diego was more at peace in that moment than he had been in weeks.

Something came to Diego in that moment. He walked towards Her and then turned around to face the group; kneeling down so She could put one gloved hand on his shoulder. Somehow he’d just known what She wanted of him. As well as what She wanted him to say.

“The Oracle wishes to know if you are hungry. She says she will feed feed you if you will listen to her.” There was a quiet titter to the crowd as Diego paused and listened to the unvoiced words that came into his heart. “She will feed you first, and you may leave after if you wish.”

The figure turned with perfect grace; rotating on its axis without any sound and grasping the sheet. When She pulled it off a massive iron pot was revealed; it was strangely shaped with bowed sides and a thick rim. Then She held out Her hand over it and steam began to rise from it. The smell of hot food filled the room; stewed vegetables and meat in a thick broth.

Diego stood up and opened the black bag as he felt Her desires fill him again. Inside were dozens of disposable plastic bowls and spoons along with a few metal ladles. The Oracle put Her hand on his shoulder again as he turned to face the group. “She says to eat your fill first.”

Then she floated backwards, filling Diego with certainty that she wasn’t touching the ground. Everyone seemed tempted but it seemed like nobody wanted to start. So he grabbed a bowl himself, used a ladle to fill it up and then went to sit on one of the blankets. Once he’d had several spoonfuls the others, at last, decided to join in.

Hesitancy gave way to eagerness. They ate and ate and ate; better than most of them had in weeks. All of those gathered here were poor and tired and scared basically every day of their lives. They questioned their good fortune, of course… but they didn’t reject it. Not yet.

When everyone was full the pot was almost half-empty. The Oracle floated over and examined it. Then she placed her hand against the side and looked at Diego. He stood up again and presented himself to her; kneeling down so she could put her hand on him again.

“The Oracle wishes to know if anyone wants more food.” There was a general murmur of refusal; most had taken at least three bowls worth. Alejandro stood up and crossed his arms, along with some of the other young men. It was time, then.

“A’ight, Diego. Your little pal has fed us an’ all, which we ‘ppreciate, but we ain’t gonna be no Cape’s little flunkies.” The others murmured assent and Diego frowned; glancing back at the Oracle. She seemed unfazed by their refusal, and he turned to speak again.

“She does not want ‘flunkies’, Alejandro. And she is not a ‘Cape’.” That got him a scoff of derision from the ringleader and confusion from most of the others. He shook his head and began to plead with them. “Listen, you must believe me. She is so much more than that. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it. And you can too.”

“Look, we ain’t so far gone that we gonna sell ourselves, man. If any of us were that desperate we’d have gone t’work for those two video game clowns by now. An’ I don’t know about you, but I’m real suspicious of charity like this.” Diego couldn’t help but grimace at the words but, luckily, Oracle still seemed to be totally calm. “Now just tell us what your new best friend wants from us so we can tell her to fuck off, and go home.”

Diego was about to say something when a booted foot met the doors outside and they swung wide. Ten heavyset men strolled in; whistling and laughing as their leader followed behind. Shirtless and muscular, long and greasy blonde hair behind a snarling metallic wolf mask. Someone in the crowd swore, someone else was praying and all of them backed away in fear except for Diego and the Oracle.

“Look at that. All this vermin in one place. Marcus, which one was it?” Hookwolf looked back to a trembling young man, barely visible amongst all the roughs and toughs, pointed at Diego. The old man barely recognised him as being one of the ones that had attacked him. “Right. And this must be our new Cape.” Diego tensed for a moment before a hand pressed on his shoulder. The Oracle floated forward and stopped some fifteen feet away from the white supremacists.

”Leave.” Her voice rippled and crackled with a power that made Diego fall to his knees instinctively. He could see Alejandro tremble and many of the watching people joined the old man in prostration. ”These people are protected.” Hookwolf just laughed and flexed an arm; silver running down it and forming bladed claws.

“I go where I want, bitch, and no idiot newbie like you can tell me what to do. This is Empire territory, and if you think tha-” There was a sharp crack as Her finger flicked out and a shard of razor-sharp stone came into being at high velocity. It hit the ground in front of Hookwolf and he recoiled from the tiny splinters of concrete that hit him.

”Leave. Or else.” A feral grin formed on the man’s face as the flesh of his arm began to retract into a bladed, paw-like limb. He stepped forward heavily; curling toe-knives scraping against the hard ground.

“If you’re looking for a fight I’ll be happy t-” And he was cut off again when the Oracle’s finger flicked out and one of his men collapsed suddenly with a cry of agony. He was clutching at his leg and blood was pouring out profusely. Hookwolf looked dumbfounded by this; as if he didn’t believe someone would provoke him in this way.

”Leave.” She held up her hands and each one formed three marble-sized sparks of flickering light and two stone shards above it. They hovered there; frozen in place like the rest of the Empire goons. ”Or else.” For a moment it looked like Hookwolf might pounce. Then he looked at the soldier to his left; curled up in a ball of pain and letting out soft whimpers of agony.

“... this isn’t over.” He made a gesture and one of the others came to the other side of the injured man while Hookwolf took his left. Together they pulled him to his feet and carried him out between them. The Oracle floated there impassively as they left, then returned to her place at Diego’s side. Silence filled the room. At that moment the old man saw his chance and took it.

“You see, Alejandro. She doesn’t want to use us. She wants to protect us. To feed us, to look after us. And She doesn’t need our money, or our bodies, or our services. She doesn’t want to push drugs to us, or to sell us on the streets, or work us to the bone long hours with no pay.” There was confusion, yes, and fear as well. But interest. Diego stepped forward and capitalised on that; raising his voice.

“She wants your respect, and your praise. Even your worship. But these are immaterial things. Everything else She will provide to us. Right now, food and protection. But soon there will be more. What do you have left to lose?” The young man, who was the de facto voice of the group as a whole, hesitated. It was clear that this person seemed to have no particular need for them.

“Tell us what to do, Diego.” A woman stepped forward; holding her young daughter’s hand. They looked at the Oracle with awe and fear in equal measure. “Whatever you want us to, we’ll do it.” The old man smiled and gestured for them to come, then he knelt before the now-silent Oracle with hands clasped tightly together. Nervously, the woman and girl joined him. After a minute of silence Alejandro hesitantly moved over. Others followed.

“As soon as you make a sincere plea in your hearts, you will understand.” Diego bowed his head to the Oracle with a smile on his aged face. Perhaps many thought that he was crazy for offering worship to a ‘Cape’, but he knew they’d come to comprehend what She really was. Maybe some already had. Adversity had a way of inspiring belief.

Hands clasped, Diego began to pray.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Sophia Hess was fairly sure she was being followed. At first she’d thought she was just being paranoid but as the week had gone on the feeling had gone from mere suspicion to practical certainty. As of yet she hadn’t caught sight of her would-be stalker, though, and that bothered her. She hadn’t done any Cape stuff in days because of it and that was annoying as fuck.

In the end she’d caved and, in the privacy of her own room, had carefully sent some emails to her superior. Obviously she could handle it on her own, but then she might end up outing herself if this turned out to be some jack-off with a camera as opposed to a socially-awkward moron who didn’t know how to grow a pair and just ask a girl out.

Before long she got a call from Mister ‘Team Leader’ himself and reluctantly answered him in her usual fashion; by picking up the phone and grunting into it. He didn’t say anything about it, as per usual, and just moved into asking stupid questions. Of course she was sure! Sophia had tailed enough lowlifes in her time to recognise the signs. Someone was definitely following her around.

In the end they agreed to her going on a walk through a predetermined path with plainclothes PRT agents littered en-route, along with Gallant doing a subtle flyby at one point to try and see if he could pick up on the person with his emotional sense. He’d commended her for following the protocols in the Wards handbook; which she vaguely recalled she was using as a coaster somewhere. Either way, she hadn’t read the damn thing. It was either useless because it didn’t tell you what to do, or it told you stupidly obvious shit like this.

When she reminded him of her feelings on that matter Carlos had sighed and hung up. That was at least a little better. Still pretty spineless, but he wasn’t all bad. She still didn't much respect his authority, of course, but that was a given.

They put the plan into motion the next evening and it was, as she had kinda expected, a total flop. None of the watching agents had seen anyone following her, nor had the cameras, and Gallant didn’t pick up any abnormal emotional reactions when he did his pass. But Sophia was still absolutely confident that someone had to be following her.

It was in the little things. Almost-movement out of the corner of her eyes. A feeling of absence when she turned around and look. The ghost of unusual, quiet sounds at the very edge of her hearing. At one point she would have sworn she saw a faint silhouette but then she blinked and it was gone. But nobody else seemed to believe her. Well screw them. About an hour after she got home she pulled her blinds, slipped into her closet, changed and then phased out through the back wall.

Sophia floated through her house and slipped out; moving low and fast and keeping the building between her and the far side of her room until she had reached safety. Then she circled around; carefully moving through buildings whenever possible to keep herself hidden. At last she had a vantage point she could watch from.

She stared for some time at the streets and buildings that overlooked her room. There had to be something… now she was wishing she had a pair of binoculars or something. But just as she was starting to think that maybe it all really had been in her head she saw it. A passing car had illuminated a side street for an instant and in that instant the black outline of a figured had been shown on the far wall.

Shadow Stalker grinned, and readied her crossbow. Then she moved; flitting around until she was up behind the alleyway. She took a deep, quiet breath before slipping back into her shadow state and moving into the alley. There they were. Huddled in the darkness behind two bins and watching her room. It was hard to make out details in the darkness but she folded back into solidity and pointed her weapon at them anyway.

“Hey, punk! Hands where I can see them!” For a moment it didn’t respond. Then it… shifted. A normal person would stand up but this thing seemed to flow upwards; like liquid in the shape of a crouching man being poured into a standing position that was now facing at her rather than away. “Oh fuck.”

It was a Cape. It had to be! Changer-Breaker, like her, some sort of… living darkness. Or maybe a Master projection? Fuck. She loosed her bolt without even really thinking about it but the only reaction from the creature was stillness. The shot passed right through it and punched into the trash can behind it.

Before Sophia could do anything, before she could try and change shape or run or even fire her other bow, the creature responded. It dropped downwards and passed into the ground; vanishing through the asphalt. For a moment Shadow Stalker was stunned and then she suddenly dived sideways and fell into her shadow form. Yet the expected attack through the floor didn’t come. It was just gone.

She reported everything as soon as she got to her communicator, and her family was immediately relocated by the PRT. They said it was only until they could find out who the Cape she’d encountered was and what they knew. Sophia herself would be staying in one of the dormitories on the Rig until then. She’d be excused from school as well, if she wanted, or else there would be a guard posted near the school to keep a watch for the thing.

In the end she let it all happen. She still went to school the next day but something was very off. There was a disconcerting emptiness that took her a while to pick up on. When she did the feeling she got wasn’t relief. As sure as she had been that she was being followed, Sophia was now equally certain that she now wasn’t. Which was not comforting at all given what she felt it would mean. After all, the only reason she would stop tracking her prey…

… was if she’d already got what she wanted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Faultline tapped her fingers against the desk in her office and couldn’t help but stare at the items sitting on it. Four green rings, like coiled snakes, and three gold ones, with inset red gems. She’d paid a lot of money for these. And for the other item. A golden amulet inset with a blue gem.

Most of the cost hadn’t been in the items themselves, but in the priority ordering fee. The brat had informed her that her manufacturing time was precious and if she wanted her things done sooner rather than later… well, that was the price she’d have to pay. Truth be told Faultline could have waited for the rings, but she didn’t want to give away what she was in such a hurry for or else the price may have gone up.

Mind, the amulet had still been twice as expensive as any of the rings but that could be worse. And the demonstration had been… effective. The girl had walked into the meeting place with that strange getup on and had been all friendly smiles and shaking hands; such that they didn’t realise she’d grabbed Newter by the hand and shaken his too until after the fact.

It had been an impressive start. Then she’d demonstrated the other item she wanted to sell them by having Spitfire do her thing. The red gem on that little ring had eaten the actual fire, and then the girl had scooped the scalding liquid up in her bare hands like it was nothing.

Immunity to friendly fire from two of their number was an attractive prospect and the girl hadn’t been charging that much for it, either. Then she’d shown off her little catalogue and this item had caught her eye. The name hadn’t done much for her but the description… the girl had been a little hesitant, actually. Even promised to let them swap it for a different one if it didn’t work quite as advertised. Then there was…

“What are your thoughts on this contract, Gregor?” She glanced at the rotund man where he sat pensively on the couch in her room. The others weren’t here; Newter was too young and antsy to talk to about these things and Spitfire was looking after… she was busy right now. There was a set of professional-looking papers on her desk. He didn’t need to look at them, as he already knew what they said.

“I am unsure. It feels like a trap of some kind but I can not say where or how the problem is.” Faultline nodded and then sighed. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the most bizarre deal she’d ever seen. The girl had claimed, more or less, to be able to monitor her crew’s condition from afar and inform any of them if something were to happen to the others. There were supposedly some conditions to this; namely they had to agree to it, for one thing.

She’d never heard of a Cape with power variability like that. Usually there was kind of a theme. Alexandrias and Eidolons of the world aside your powers had a basic conceptual connection. But this Cape apparently made maintenance-free Tinkertech with unbelievable effects and also had a high-tier Thinker power to boot.

The girl had said she’d know when they’d agreed. That had felt ominous. Right now, Faultline wasn’t sure if she wanted to. These terms were just so weird. In return for providing real-time tactical coordination and health data, the contract stated, her and her crew would agree to work for this ‘Pretender’ in perpetuity and obey all direct orders without question. That alone would have made her toss the thing in the trash and burn the contents of the bin to boot if it weren’t for the exit clause.

For whatever reason the girl had stipulated that they could, upon receiving any order, choose to void the contract immediately at no fault or penalty to them. Which meant that the girl was basically hamstringing herself because if she ever told them to do basically anything at all Faultline could just choose to tell her to fuck off.

She was sure this had to be a trap. And yet… Faultline looked at the amulet again. Then she looked at Gregor. He nodded; understanding what she was thinking. The large man stood and delicately took the item from her. “I will deliver it.” She watched him go and then sighed. If it worked as advertised… if something finally helped, at last...

… well, then she supposed that even signing a deal with the devil might not be such a bad thing.