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The sun was setting in Brockton Bay when Danny Hebert stepped onto his porch, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion that had long since settled into his bones. His boots dragged slightly, scuffing against the concrete as he moved. The familiar creak of the front step was strangely...
Taylor dragged Shadow Stalker through the parking lot with one hand raised, glowing lines of arcane script trailing from her fingertips and tethered to the restrained Ward like a leash. The chains of the Arrest spell still held, but Taylor had added a layer of magical grip for stability. Shadow...
She effectively spent three years in Prismari College, so she considers herself an adult and educated enough. I'm going with Bet being time dilated because Bolas. So six months in Bet were 3 years in Arcavios and then War of the Spark happened and Bet was synced back to the rest of the planes...
Winslow High had many hallways, but none like the one where the cursed locker laid. Everyone avoided that place since, six months before, a horrible prank turned into a news story, a scandal, and a whispered warning passed from upperclassmen to freshmen.
Six months had passed since Taylor...
It had been a year, but the memory hadn't faded.
It crept in like dreams do, quiet and out of order. They were in the car, her mom humming under her breath, her Bluetooth headset blinking softly against her cheek as she juggled a work call and the steering wheel. The air conditioner was too...
Armsmaster stood over the reinforced titanium workbench in his lab, the reports splayed out before him like a battlefield of facts and probabilities. LED strips illuminated the holographic displays that floated midair, graphs and readouts cascading across translucent panes.
He barely blinked...
Smoke still lingered in the sky, curling lazily like it hadn’t realized the fighting was over. I sat on a battered concrete ledge that overlooked the half-destroyed boardwalk. My costume clung to me in torn fragments, scales dulled to a weary bronze that reflected none of the fire I’d absorbed...
I came to under a crushing blanket of concrete and twisted metal, every breath tasting of rust and ozone, and for a heartbeat, I felt absolute despair. The remnants of a vision slipped through my fingers like smoke, too faint to hold onto. A dream, a nightmare, maybe both. Gone.
What had that...
The Boardwalk, 4PM.
Smoke clung to the street like a second skin as Vista stepped over a twisted railing. Her uniform was in pristine condition despite the ruin around. Heavy clouds overhead and the soot-stained sky painted everything in twilight gray. Rain had started to fall in slow, cold...
Patrolling wasn't what I thought it would be.
This was my third time making the rounds as a ward, and I hadn't so much as seen a purse-snatcher, let alone an actual villain. Most of our time was spent walking down the boardwalk or hovering near food stalls, smiling like we were part of some...
Some combinations just don't work. Like vinegar on cereal. Like a nest of hornets and a quiet afternoon.
Dragons and talk shows.
The studio lights were a special kind of hell. Far too bright, unrelenting, and positioned with sadistic precision to catch every glint off the polished set and...
I was seated at the far end of the table, arms crossed, posture rigid. No one had exactly asked me to come closer. Not that I blamed them. Even if I hadn’t walked in looking like a fireproof monster-in-training, they’d all seen the footage. Or heard the rumors. Or decided to stay quiet, because...
The testing chamber felt colder than the training yard. Not by much, maybe a degree or two, but enough to sink into my bones and set my nerves on edge. It smelled like scorched metal and burned plastic. Like the aftermath of something trying very hard not to die.
Reinforced panels lined the...
The conference room was too quiet, too sterile, like a staged scene waiting for the actors to stumble onto the wrong line. The air carried that faint chemical tang I was starting to associate with the PRT, disinfectant and stale coffee, scrubbed floors and institutional pressure, all the...
The room was too clean. Too white. The scent of lemon-sanitizer still clung to the walls like a threat. It felt more like a hotel room than anything remotely resembling home. A place meant for temporary comfort, not permanence. The bed was tucked tight with hospital precision, the furniture...
The room looked like it belonged in someone else. Somewhere safe. Normal. A deep brown sofa, plush enough to swallow a person whole, sat in front of a flat-screen TV that wasn't turned on. The walls were pale blue, and the windows let in warm afternoon light that painted gold lines across the...
PRT Meeting Room 06:30 AM
Armsmaster stood near the projection wall of the standard PRT meeting room, visor glinting faint blue as it flickered through frames of data: DNA strands, brain scans, thermal maps, grainy video captures, and a slow-motion video of Orochi's lips moving as she told them...
I don't know how long I stayed in isolation. But by the time I got back to my senses, I found myself surrounded by guards in black body armor and tinkertech-looking assault rifles. They forced me on my feet. Their movements tight and calculated, like they expected me to lunge at them at any...
They didn't cuff me.
That was somehow worse.
Handcuffs would have made it simple—obvious. Would've made it easier to tell myself I was still the scared teenager, the over-my-head vigilante who'd just pushed too far. Not whatever it was I was now—something new and raw and dangerous, wearing my...
I focused my attention on a lone wasp, guiding it around Lung's back, past the ridges of scale and muscle, until it hovered behind his head. It circled once, then darted forward toward his eye.
The wasp struck home, diving straight into Lung's eye with a sickening wet pop. He howled, clutching...