Anklebreaker (Worm)

[Nador]

This thing was mostly written by AI, I just liked it enough that i thought i might as well share it.

The first thing Taylor Hebert learned about having superpowers was that they didn't have to be useful. The second thing she learned was that they didn't have to make sense. She lay on the bathroom floor, staring at the underside of the sink. Her fingers were still shaking.

Five inches.

She'd measured it three times. The shampoo bottle sat on the edge of the bathtub, hovering.

Not floating.

Hovering.

There was a difference.
Floating implied freedom. Possibility. Something drifting through the air, unconstrained by the petty rules of gravity.
This was more like the universe had misplaced the bottle.

Five inches above the tub.
Exactly five.

Taylor reached out.
The bottle dropped.
She caught it against her chest.

"Okay."

Her voice sounded strange.

"Okay."

She put it down again.
Concentrated.

The bottle rose.

Four inches.

Five.

It stopped.
Taylor stared at it.

Then she pushed.

Nothing happened.

She pulled.

Nothing.

She tried to make it rise higher.

Nothing.

The bottle stayed exactly where it was, floating five inches above the tub.
Taylor's heart sank.

Of all the powers she could have gotten...

She'd heard the stories.
Everyone had.

Alexandria.

Legend.

Eidolon.

Even the less glamorous ones were impressive. Super-strength. Fire. Teleportation. Invisibility.
And she'd gotten...

Anti-gravity.

But only for things that were already touching the ground.
She spent the next twenty minutes testing the limits.

A paperback.

Five inches.

A shoe.

Five inches.

Her backpack.

Five inches.

The metal trash can.

Five inches.

A full laundry basket was too heavy.

Not because it couldn't be lifted. Taylor could feel something pushing back when she tried. The power simply... refused.

She tried lifting the bathroom mat.

Five inches.

She tried lifting the bathtub.

Nothing.

She tried lifting herself.

Nothing.

She sat on the edge of the tub.
"So I'm a telekinetic with a five-inch leash."
The absurdity of it made her laugh.

Once.

Then she stopped.
Because there was something else.
Something she'd missed.
Taylor looked at the shampoo bottle.

It was still hovering.

She nudged it with one finger.

It slid.

Five inches above the tub.
She pushed harder.

The bottle accelerated.

Taylor's eyes widened.
She pushed it sideways again.

It moved.

The power wasn't just lifting.
It was holding.
Keeping the object at a fixed distance from the surface beneath it.

The bottle skimmed over the bathtub.
She moved her hand faster.
The bottle followed.

Not her hand.
Her intent.

Taylor's smile disappeared.

She stared at the bottle.
Then she looked at the bathroom door.
Then at the hallway.

Her thoughts started moving.

Fast.

Five inches wasn't much.
But five inches was enough to clear a curb.
Enough to cross a staircase one step at a time.
Enough to make something slide over concrete without friction.

Enough to—

Taylor stopped herself.
She was getting ahead of things.
She needed rules.
Rules were good.
Rules meant control.

She spent another hour testing.
The power worked on objects she could perceive clearly.
It seemed to work through contact with surfaces, not necessarily the floor. A book resting on the bathtub could hover five inches above the bathtub.

If she moved the bathtub?
The book followed it.
If she tilted the bathtub?
The book remained parallel to its surface.
If she threw the bottle?

She couldn't catch it in midair.
The power needed a surface.
That was important.

If something was already airborne, she couldn't affect it.
If something was touching the ground, she could.
And if she stopped concentrating—

Drop.

Always drop.

Taylor sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor.

Five inches.

It was pathetic.
It was ridiculous.
It was—

Potentially useful.

She looked down at her shoes.
A thought occurred to her.
She put one foot flat on the tile.

Concentrated.

Nothing.

Of course.
She wasn't an object she could lift.
But her shoe was.
Taylor experimentally lifted her shoe.
Her foot came up with it.

She froze.

"No."

She lowered it.
Tried again.
The shoe rose five inches.
Her foot came with it.

Her ankle bent.

Taylor stared.

"Oh."

She tried the other foot.
Same thing.
Her pulse quickened.
She stood.
Both shoes were touching the floor.
She concentrated.

Both rose.

Her body followed.
For a second, Taylor was five inches taller.
She laughed.
Then she nearly fell over.

It wasn't flight.
It wasn't even hovering.
It was standing on invisible stilts that she could move around whenever she wanted.

But it was hers.

She spent the rest of the afternoon learning how to walk.
It was harder than it sounded.
The trick was alternating.

Left foot.
Lift.
Step.

Right foot.
Lift.
Step.

The result was awkward and jerky.
But it worked.
Taylor looked at herself in the mirror.
Five inches taller.
She smiled.
For the first time since the locker, it was a genuine smile.

The locker.

The thought killed it.
Her smile vanished.
She remembered the darkness.
The smell.
The laughter.
The wetness on the floor.
She remembered Emma's face.

Taylor's hands clenched.
The power responded.

Her shoes rose five inches.

She looked down.
Then back at herself.

"Okay," she whispered.

Maybe it wasn't enough to fight.
Maybe it wasn't enough to be a hero.
But Taylor had learned something important about herself.
She didn't need a good power.
She needed a power she understood.

And she understood this one.
That night, she started making a list.

Things I Can Do:

• Lift objects five inches off surfaces.
• Move them while they're hovering.
• Keep them hovering while I move.
• Move multiple small objects.
• Use my shoes to increase my effective height.
• Reduce friction.

She paused.
Then added:

• Possibly weaponize.

Taylor stared at that last word.
She hesitated.
Then crossed it out.
She wrote:

• Don't get carried away.

That lasted eleven minutes.
Because Taylor had just realized something.
She had spent the entire day thinking about what she could lift.

She hadn't thought about what she could drop.

---

The first time Taylor Hebert stopped a mugging, she did it entirely by accident.

She was walking home.
A man stepped out of an alley.

There was a knife.
A woman screamed.

Taylor froze.

Her first instinct was to run.
Her second was to look around for a hero.
There weren't any.

The mugger grabbed the woman's purse.

Taylor saw the woman's foot.
She saw the mugger's foot.
And she saw the pavement beneath them.

Her brain clicked.

Five inches.

Taylor reached out.

The mugger's shoe lifted.

His foot came with it.

His ankle twisted.

He stumbled.

"What the—"

Taylor lifted the other shoe.
The man fell sideways.
The woman ran.

The mugger hit the pavement hard enough to lose the knife.

Taylor stared.

Then looked at the knife.
It was touching the ground.

She lifted it.

Five inches.

The knife rose.
The mugger stared at it.

Taylor moved it sideways.
His eyes followed.
Taylor smiled.

It was not a particularly nice smile.

She dropped the knife.
Then lifted his shoes again.

He tried to stand.
Both shoes rose.
He fell.

"Stay down."

The man stared at her.
Taylor looked down at herself.

Hoodie.
Jeans.
Backpack.

Nothing remotely intimidating.

She needed a costume.

A name.

Something that would make people hesitate before laughing.

Her gaze dropped to the man's ankles.
An idea arrived.

It was stupid.

It was perfect.

Taylor looked at him.
"Call me Anklebreaker."

The mugger blinked.

"That's—"

She lifted his shoes.

He fell over again.

"—actually fucking appropriate."

Taylor walked away before he could finish.
She made it half a block before she started laughing.

Maybe five inches wasn't so useless after all.

 

[Nador]

Taylor had a costume problem.

It wasn't the sort of problem she'd expected to have.
She'd expected problems like:

How do I stop a supervillain?
What if someone recognizes me?
What if the police catch me?
What if I die?

She had not expected:

How do I look intimidating when my superpower is basically making things hover slightly?

She sat at her desk with a notebook open in front of her.
On the first page, she'd written:

ANKLEBREAKER

Underneath that:

POWER:

She'd stared at the blank space for several minutes.
Finally:

LEVITATION, KIND OF

She scratched it out.

LIMITED TELEKINESIS

That sounded better.
She underlined it twice.
Then, because she was Taylor and apparently incapable of leaving well enough alone, she added:

Maximum height: 5 inches.

The number stared back at her.
Five.
It was a ridiculously small number.

She could lift her shoes. She could lift books. She could make things slide around on surfaces with almost no friction.
But anything she wanted to move had to have a surface underneath it.
And that surface mattered.

Taylor had discovered that the hard way.
She'd spent two days testing different surfaces.

Concrete worked.
Wood worked.
Carpet worked.
Grass worked, although uneven terrain made control difficult.
Water did not work.

She'd tried.
The bottle had sunk.

Ice worked.
Snow worked.
Sand worked, technically, although anything placed on sand tended to sink slightly before the power could establish a stable five-inch gap.

She'd also discovered that she could affect things that weren't entirely on a surface.
A chair with one leg on the ground?

Yes.

A bicycle?

Yes.

A person standing on a sidewalk?

Yes.

A person jumping?

No.

That last one was important.
Very important.
Taylor drew another line.

Rules:

1. Five inches maximum.
2. Must be touching a surface.
3. Cannot affect airborne objects.
4. Weight limit seems dependent on size?
5. Can move objects horizontally.
6. Can affect multiple objects.
7. Living targets work.
8. Clothing works if worn?
9. Shoes definitely work.

She tapped her pencil against the desk.

"Number eight."

Taylor looked at her jacket.

She concentrated.

Nothing happened.
She concentrated harder.

Nothing.

She grabbed the sleeve and tried again.
The fabric lifted.

But only because she was holding it.
She let go.

Nothing.

Interesting.

She looked at her shoes.
They lifted.

Her feet followed.
That suggested the power wasn't affecting her.
It was affecting an object sufficiently connected to her.

She tested it with her backpack.
The backpack lifted.
Her shoulders came with it.

She removed one strap.

The backpack dropped.
Taylor stared at it.

"Interesting."

She put the backpack on again.
Lifted it.

Her body rose.

Then she deliberately stepped backward.
The backpack remained attached.

She tilted.
The backpack stayed beneath her.

Not because of gravity.
Because the power was apparently smart enough to understand what counted as the "surface" for the object.

Taylor slowly smiled.

That opened possibilities.
She grabbed a sheet of paper.

Lifted it five inches.

Then another.

Then another.

She made them orbit around her desk.

Slowly.

Awkwardly.

But consistently.
Multiple objects.

That was new.

She'd initially assumed there was some sort of concentration limit.
There wasn't.

The limitation was more intuitive.
The more complicated the movement, the more attention it took.

Simple things were easy.

Lift.

Lower.

Slide left.

Slide right.

Complex things required concentration.
She could make six pencils move in formation.
She couldn't make six pencils move independently while reading a book.

That suggested training.
Which meant Taylor had something she'd been missing for a long time.

Something to work toward.

---

The costume took another week.

The mask was easy.

Black.

Plain.
A cheap domino mask wasn't enough, so she modified an old Halloween costume, extending the sides and adding a dark hood.

The rest was harder.
She couldn't afford armor.
She couldn't exactly sew.

Her first attempt at a cape made her look like a bedsheet.

Her second made her look like a bedsheet with ambitions.

The third was acceptable.

Black hoodie.
Dark cargo pants.
Reinforced boots.
Gloves.
A gray scarf wrapped around her neck.

Nothing flashy.
Nothing distinctive.

Except the boots.
Taylor had modified those herself.

The soles were layered.

Rubber.
Foam.
Plastic.
Rubber again.

The result was ugly.
But when she concentrated, the entire boot lifted cleanly from the ground.

She could stand five inches higher.
More importantly, she could shift her weight.
Taylor practiced in her room.

Lift left.
Lower.

Lift right.
Lower.

Lift both.
Move forward.

Lower.

Again.

Again.

Again.

She fell twelve times.

On the thirteenth, she didn't.

Taylor looked at herself in the mirror.

Black clothes.
Black mask.
Gray scarf.
Boots that made her five inches taller when she wanted them to.

She looked ridiculous.

She also looked like a cape.

She smiled.

"Anklebreaker."
It still sounded stupid.

She liked it.

---

Her first real patrol lasted forty-three minutes.

Nothing happened.
Taylor discovered that being a superhero involved an astonishing amount of walking.

She walked.

And walked.

And walked.

She saw a drunk.

A couple arguing.

Three teenagers smoking behind a store.

A man sleeping in a doorway.

Nothing.
She was beginning to wonder whether she'd made a terrible mistake when she heard shouting.

Taylor stopped.

Two voices.

Male.

One was angry.
The other sounded frightened.

She moved toward them.

An alley.

A delivery driver was pressed against a wall.
Two men stood in front of him.

One had a baseball bat.
The other had a knife.

Taylor's heart began pounding.

She could leave.

She should leave.

There were two of them.
She had no combat training.
Her power was—

Taylor looked at their shoes.

Five inches.

She smiled behind her mask.
She stepped into the alley.

"Hey."

Both men turned.

The man with the bat laughed.
"What are you supposed to be?"

Taylor raised one hand.

"Someone telling you to leave."

The knife-wielder snorted.
"Or what?"

Taylor lifted his foot.

He stumbled.

She lifted the other.

He fell.

The bat swung.

Taylor ducked.
The attacker recovered quickly.

Too quickly.
He stepped forward.

Taylor lifted his shoe.

He stumbled.

But this time he didn't fall.
He kicked.

Taylor barely moved aside.
The foot passed within inches of her.

"Okay," she whispered.

The man swung again.

Taylor grabbed a trash can.
Lifted it.

The can rose five inches.
She shoved it sideways.

It slammed into his knees.
He went down.

The knife-wielder scrambled upright.
Taylor lifted his shoes.

He fell, dropping his knife.

She lifted the knife.
It rose from the pavement.
The man's eyes widened.

Taylor moved it behind him.
Then lowered it.
The knife clattered against the concrete.

He looked back.
Taylor was already moving.
She stepped onto the knife.
Lifted her boot.

The knife came with her.

For one glorious second, Taylor was standing on top of a floating knife.

Then she realized how stupid that was.
She lowered it.

"Stay."

Neither man moved.

The delivery driver stared.
"Are you... a hero?"

Taylor hesitated.
"I think so."

"Oh."

The driver looked at the two men sprawled across the alley.
"Uh, thanks."

Taylor nodded.

"Yeah."

She ran.

---

The next morning, there was a blurry photograph online.

Taylor found it before school.
Someone had uploaded it to PHO.
The title was:

NEW CAPE IN BROCKTON BAY?

The picture showed a dark figure standing in an alley.
The quality was terrible.
The caption underneath read:

~Apparently some girl with a five-inch telekinesis power stopped two guys last night.

Taylor stared.
She scrolled.

~That's not a power.


~Maybe she can only lift five inches?


~That's hilarious.


~Imagine getting your ass kicked by a girl who can move your shoes five inches.


~ANKLEBREAKER LMAO

Taylor stopped.

Her stomach dropped.

Someone had used the name.

She read further.


~Apparently she called herself Anklebreaker.


~Worst cape name ever.


~I actually kind of like it.


~Five inches, lol.


~She needs a better name.

Taylor closed the laptop.

Then opened it again.

She read the thread for another hour.

---

At school, Emma smiled at her.
That was unusual.
"You look tired."

Taylor stared at her.
Emma's smile widened.
"Bad night?"

Taylor said nothing.
"Or maybe you've been up late doing something interesting?"

Madison giggled.
Taylor's fingers tightened around her backpack strap.
The backpack rose.

Barely.

Two inches.

She lowered it.
Emma noticed.
Taylor knew she had.

Emma's expression changed.
Only slightly.

A flicker.

Confusion.

Then suspicion.

Taylor walked past them.
No confrontation.
Not today.
She wasn't ready.

But something had changed.

She had a power.

She had a mask.

She had a name.

And now she had enemies who didn't even know she was their enemy.

---

Three nights later, Anklebreaker met Shadow Stalker.

Taylor knew that silhouette.
The black bodysuit.
The hood.
The distinctive crossbow.
The compact baton hanging at her side.

Shadow Stalker stood on the roof opposite Taylor, the weapon already leveled.
Taylor's stomach tightened.

"Anklebreaker."
The voice was female.

Young.

Cold.

"You're a long way from your usual neighborhood."

Taylor said nothing.
Shadow Stalker lowered the crossbow by a fraction.
"I've heard about you."

"Good things?"

"No."

Taylor swallowed.
"Then why are you here?"

"Because you're an unregistered cape operating in my territory."

There was something wrong with the way she said my.
Not ownership.
Possession.
Like the streets were a hunting ground.

Taylor shifted her weight.
"You're a Ward."

"Congrats."

The answer was immediate.
Dismissive.

Shadow Stalker stepped forward.
"Here's how this works. You stop playing hero, give me your name, and we can make this easy."

Taylor stared at the weapon.
"I don't think that's how it works."

Shadow Stalker huffed.
"You don't?"

"No."
Taylor looked at her feet.
Black boots.

The same sort of reinforced footwear Taylor had seen on dozens of capes.
The difference was that she knew exactly what she could do to them.
She concentrated.

One boot rose five inches.
Shadow Stalker's balance shifted.
Her crossbow dipped.

The other boot rose.
Shadow Stalker fell sideways.
She caught herself with one hand.

Taylor exhaled.
"That's how it works."

For a moment, neither moved.
Then Shadow Stalker laughed.

It wasn't friendly.

It was delighted.
"Oh."

She rose.
Taylor immediately lifted her boots again.
Shadow Stalker stumbled—

And then disappeared.

Not moved.

Not jumped.

Disappeared.

Taylor's eyes widened.

A dark, translucent shape flowed across the rooftop.
Shadow.
She remembered.
Shadow Stalker's power.

Taylor spun.

Nothing.

A voice whispered beside her.
"You're going to have to do better than that."

Taylor turned.

Too late.

Something struck her ribs.
She staggered.

Shadow Stalker solidified beside her, baton already swinging again.

Taylor ducked.
The baton passed over her head.

She reached for the nearest thing she could affect.

Gravel.

The stones rose five inches.

Shadow Stalker stepped backward.

Taylor swept her hand sideways.

The gravel shot across the roof.

Shadow Stalker raised an arm.
Then faded through it.

The stones passed harmlessly through her shadowy form.

Taylor's heart sank.

Right.
Of course.

She'd been thinking about the shoes.

But Shadow Stalker didn't have to stay solid.

Taylor backed away.
Shadow Stalker reappeared.

"You've got a cute trick."

Taylor said nothing.

"But you don't know how to fight."

Taylor lifted the rooftop gravel again.
"Neither do you."

Shadow Stalker's eyes narrowed.

Taylor shoved the gravel sideways.

Not at her.

At the roof.

The stones scattered under Shadow Stalker's feet.
Shadow Stalker moved.

Taylor lifted the boot.
Five inches.
Shadow Stalker stumbled.

Taylor lifted the other.

The Ward fell.
She immediately went shadowy.

Taylor had expected that.

What she hadn't expected was Shadow Stalker coming up through the roof behind her.
Taylor barely had time to turn.
The baton struck her shoulder.

Pain exploded through her arm.

She fell.
Shadow Stalker stood over her.
"Stay down."

Taylor looked at her.
Then smiled.

Shadow Stalker frowned.
"What?"

Taylor lifted the boot.
Shadow Stalker stumbled.
Taylor lifted the other.

The Ward fell hard.
Taylor scrambled backward.
Shadow Stalker cursed.

Taylor got to her feet.
"You're right."

She rubbed her shoulder.
"I don't know how to fight."

Shadow Stalker stared.

Taylor raised both hands.
"But I'm learning."

The roof between them suddenly became cluttered with hovering debris.

Pebbles.
Bits of broken brick.
A loose bolt.
A discarded soda can.

All five inches above the surface.

Shadow Stalker looked around.
For the first time, uncertainty entered her expression.

Taylor smiled.
"Five inches."

Shadow Stalker dropped into shadow.
Taylor immediately released everything.

The debris crashed down.

Silence.

Then Shadow Stalker's voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
"This isn't over."

Taylor looked toward the roof's edge.
"Probably not."

The shadow vanished.

Taylor waited.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Nothing.

She finally sagged against a ventilation unit.

Her shoulder hurt.
Her ribs hurt.
Her entire body was shaking.
But she was still standing.

She looked at the place where Shadow Stalker had disappeared.

Something about the encounter bothered her.
The cape hadn't acted like a hero.
She hadn't tried to protect anyone.
She hadn't even seemed particularly interested in whether Taylor was hurting people.
She'd been interested in catching her.
Testing her.
Hunting her.

Taylor remembered that voice.

Cold.
Mocking.
Familiar.

A tiny piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
The way she moved.
The way she spoke.
The attitude.

Taylor's blood went cold.
"No."

She pulled her mask tighter.
"No way."

But she knew.
She'd known that voice for years.

Sophia Hess.
Shadow Stalker.

One of the people who had made her life a living hell.
Taylor stood alone on the roof.
Five inches of empty air separated her boots from the concrete.

She looked down.
Then smiled.
It wasn't a happy smile.

"Okay, Sophia."
She flexed her fingers.

"I guess we're playing now."