Earning Her Stripes (Worm AU fanfic)

I hadn't put all this together before in one go, so:

1. Manton stole a vial to give to his daughter. Instead of having a bad reaction, she got usable mid-range powers, and is currently enjoying a career as a moderately popular hero on the West Coast.

2. Because of this, he never took the Siberian formula. When he was confronted over the theft, they gave him a slap on the wrist. He's still working with them (though under tighter surveillance).

3. Because of this, Jack Slash didn't have the Siberian with him when he kicked in the front door to the Davis household. He was met by Riley's dad, who blew his head off with a twelve-gauge shotgun.

4. Because of this, the Slaughterhouse Nine name is now used mainly by edgelord villains who have killed one too many innocents and have Kill Orders or Birdcage sentences hanging over their heads. There's never more than five or six, they cycle through pretty quickly, and they stay away from big cities.

5. Also because of this, the Siberian encounter never happened with the Protectorate. Hero is still alive, and is leading the Protectorate proper since Legend quit under undisclosed circumstances. (He's also head of the Protectorate in New York, and runs the occasional Tinker seminar).

6. As a result, the Triumvirate is a slightly lighter and fluffier version of the OTL one, because Alexandria never had to deal with Hero's death. Hero doesn't quite have Legend's charisma and charm, but he's competent and extremely respected.

7. Also (just for shits & giggles) Hero opposed NEPEA-5, and it ended up dying in committee. There are rules against capes setting up exclusive monopolies using their powers, but they're a lot more forgiving.

(Edit)
8. As a result the Uppermost never made the shift to the Elite. They're still on the good side of the law.

9. Also to do with the Nine, Ravager tried to hire the latest bunch to murder Mouse Protector. She beat them with almost embarrassing ease, then found Ravager and gave her a Behemoth scale wedgie by hanging her from a lamp post by her underwear. Then posted pictures online.

 

Earning Her Stripes

Part Eleven: Expanding Viewpoints

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal].

Taylor got on the bus, still thinking things over. She'd put on a sweater rather than her usual choice of a shapeless hoodie, more as an impulse than out of a plan to do anything in particular. Her entire outfit would fit under the protective cover—she'd tested it in the mirror—though she wasn't sure what to do with her hair. Currently, the protection turned it into either pure-white strands (striped with black) or a single shapeless mass lying over her shoulders. She needed to do better, but she was still working on how.

All the way to the library, she looked out the window at the city passing by, but she didn't register any of it. There were far too many options available to her, and she had no idea how to narrow them down to a single theme. Going tiger-striped with claws was definitely a possibility, but tigers weren't the only scary striped creatures out there. Honey badgers technically had a stripe, and so did a lot of other things. Regardless, she was going to leave the skunk concept well alone.

If she didn't want to go with the animal theme, she figured she could do a damn good impression of a robot. Impervious skin, a little circuitry pattern here and there, and an angular appearance. Also, being strong as fuck.

Not sure what to do about my eyes, though. Maybe get hold of some tech-looking goggles?

On second thought, it might not be the best idea to pretend to be an actual artificial intelligence. Nothing like that existed, as far as she knew, so it wasn't like robot rights were protected. Knowing people, they'd be just as likely to try to ignore her input and order her around. Not that they could do anything to her, but it would be uncomfortably like what her normal life was like.

Maybe pretend to be a Tinker in a powersuit? That could work. Well, right up until another Tinker tried to talk shop with me.

She imagined Armsmaster striking up a conversation with her about the intricacies of micro-quantum super-capacitors or whatever the hell it was Tinkers talked about, and shuddered. It wasn't clear what would be worse, trying to bluff her way through a situation like that, or coming clean and admitting she wasn't any kind of Tinker. Or refusing to talk about her 'tech' and being labelled as rude and unsociable.

Ugh. Hard pass.

The bus stopped at the library and she got out, then trotted up the steps. Her pack bounced on her shoulder, reminding her of her primary purpose here. Study first, check out my powers later.

And so, she studied. At this time of day, there were many tables free for use. Taking out her notebooks, she went through her textbooks one at a time, conscientiously reading ahead one chapter apiece. It was easy when there were no distractions, and she made sure she knew the material—making notes to help jog her memory—before turning to the next book.

She was in the middle of figuring out how to do a particular math problem—Mr Quinlan was crap at explaining stuff like this—when a tone sounded throughout the building.

"Cape fight outside the library." The head librarian's voice was firm and assured. "Locking doors. Please stay away from the windows. Cape fight outside the library." As Taylor looked around, heavy shades motored down to cover the expansive glass windows.

Of course, the few library patrons moved toward the windows to try to see what was going on. Taylor's first instinct was to do the same, but she paused in thought.

What if I could help? What if I could do something about it?

She was certainly strong enough, when aided by the protective cover, and so far it had activated reliably enough to protect her from all potential harm … well, except for the first time, and even then it had gone away after she passed out. The other bonus was that it provided an instant costume when needed.

The Central Library was old-fashioned in many ways; this included a lack of security cameras within the premises. Stuffing her books in her backpack, Taylor shoved them under a desk and out of sight, then called on the protective field.

It flowed over her, giving her sneakers the appearance of boots and adding the subtle illusion of bulk where it counted. Hopefully, people would see her as twenty-something instead of a tall fifteen. Pulling back her hair, she found she could stash it under the covering.

She went with the appearance of a helmet/mask combination, as Alexandria had made popular, leaving her eyes, ears and mouth clear for obvious reasons. Her power, she was fairly sure, would cut in to protect her vulnerable areas if the need arose. The 'costume' covered the rest of her body, including her hands.

Finally, she had the black colouration cover most of the supposed costume, with white highlights adding the hints of stripes here and there, mainly because she thought it looked cool.

The librarian looked around with some surprise as Taylor emerged from the stacks and fronted up to the desk. "Wh-where did you come from?"

"Does it really matter?" Taylor countered. "I need to get out there and help. I'm pretty sure you don't want me busting a window, so could you do me a solid and crack the door?" She found that speaking authoritatively and telling people what to do—even adults— was far easier when she had a mask over her face.

"Uh, I can't." The librarian grimaced. "I've got three emergency buttons here. One calls the police. The second one locks everything down, and unlocks everything on the second push. The third one unseals the Endbringer bunker in the basement …" She paused, evidently realising something. "… wait a moment."

Taylor waited, unsure of why the Endbringer shelter was so important. She wanted to get out there and do something, not hide.

The librarian glanced around, then picked up a ring of keys. "The basement has a sidewalk coal hatch. We don't heat with coal anymore, of course, but deliveries still come in that way."

The implications were obvious. If deliveries could come in, people could leave the same way. Say, an aspiring cape who didn't quite feel up to breaking a window.

Taylor nodded. "Sounds good to me."

She followed the librarian through a door marked 'STAFF ONLY' and down a set of stairs into an echoing, musty basement. There was a pathway outlined in black-and-yellow hazard tape toward what she recognised as the armoured front door to the previously-mentioned Endbringer shelter, but they didn't go that way. Instead, the librarian led her to what she recognised as a sidewalk coal delivery hatch, as seen from the underside, and gestured to a ten-foot-wide sheet of diamond-textured steel plate. "Going up?"

"Going up," agreed Taylor. She stepped onto the plate and waited for the librarian to hit the 'up' button. The mechanism started rumbling and grinding as the plate rose toward sidewalk level.

When she was only halfway up, the double hatch above swung upward to the left and right. Hey, I'm strong. I wonder if I'm strong enough to jump that high?

It was worth a try. She crouched slightly, and jumped. A second later, she landed on the sidewalk outside, having cleared the opening doors by a good ten feet. Strangely enough, she was sure she hadn't exerted that much force. It had almost felt as though she'd jumped as high as she wanted to. Which was weird, but powers weren't exactly normal at the best of times.

The crashes and bangs, almost certainly stemming from the cape fight, were coming from just around the corner. Taylor trotted in that direction, hoping she looked like a serious cape instead of the pretender she felt like.

And then, just as she stepped around the corner, the crashes and bangs got a whole lot closer. So did the SUV that was bouncing end over end down the street toward her.

Later, she would remember that she let out a tiny shriek as the vehicle loomed over her. Flinging out her hands to protect herself, she fully expected for her protective field to snap fully into place then to turn off again once the SUV was a crumpled wreck. Just as it had with the car in the children's playground, the previous night.

But nothing like that happened. Opening her eyes—she hadn't realised she'd clenched them shut—she saw that the vehicle was still hanging over her head, that she was holding it there by one corner of the bent and torn hood. Her finger and thumb, clenched around a tiny twisted shred of metal, was all that had stopped the SUV in its doomed trajectory, and was now keeping it immobile in blatant defiance of everything she thought she knew about mass and leverage.

"Well, that's different," she said thoughtfully.

The vehicle continued to hold its position, for all the world as though the CGI animators of an action movie had paused the show to get lunch. She frowned as another memory percolated through her thoughts; when she'd first seen the SUV, it had been bright red, but now it was a medium gray. In fact, the entire vehicle was shaded in black and white rather than colour.

And now that she was querying the concept, she somehow knew every inch of the vehicle, and everything within it. In addition, everything that was shaded in monochrome by her power was somehow divorced from the real-world concepts of weight and inertia, so long as she was touching it. She knew instinctively that it wasn't as impervious as her protection field, but it was maybe ten times as tough and strong as normal.

Hey, I wonder if I did this with the needle, without realising it? It certainly felt familiar.

Slowly, experimentally, she lowered the SUV to the road; when all four wheels had made contact with the asphalt, she let go. It regained its colour and bounced a couple of times on its suspension, then one tyre blew with a muffled bang. She was pretty sure she wasn't responsible for the last bit.

The fighting sounded farther away, and sirens were starting to converge. A chopper flew overhead, and she thought she heard the distinctive sounds of Armsmaster's motorcycle in the distance.

Sounds like the PRT and Protectorate have it handled. Stepping up to a cape fight when she was the only one who could help was one thing, but she wasn't about to make an idiot of herself in front of the professionals until she'd learned more about her capabilities. That was even if she wanted to be a hero.

First order of business: getting my books back out of the library without making it obvious that I'm a cape. Walking in through the front door in civvies once they opened the shutters should about cover that, she figured.

Second order of business: going out tonight and learning a lot more about what I can do.

A slow smile curled across her lips.

She couldn't wait.

<><>​

Later that Night

Hebert Household

10:35 PM

Taylor lay in bed, the bedroom light off and her eyes closed. With the covers pulled up to her chin, she breathed steadily; in, out; in, out. She hadn't moved from that pose since her father had cracked the bedroom door to check on her twenty minutes ago.

She didn't think he expected her to sneak out, mainly because he didn't know she had powers. Danny Hebert was reasonably good at dissimulation when it came to negotiating on behalf of the Dockworkers' Association, but he'd never been able to hide his motivations from her. They'd enjoyed a pleasant supper, and she'd told him most of what she'd done for the day, leaving out any mention of her powers. It helped that she hadn't known which capes were involved (Menja, Hookwolf and Lung) until she saw the news later.

She was still considering when she'd tell him about them. He'd have to be told sooner rather than later; otherwise, it would be unfair on him. But she wanted to learn everything about her powers and figure out what she was going to be doing with them, before she filled him in. That, she figured, was only fair on her.

Finally, the sound she'd been waiting for drifted to her ears. Her father didn't snore loudly, but it was clearly audible in the otherwise silent house. Pulling back the covers with a gentle swoosh, revealing the dark sweater and jeans she was wearing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She already had socks on; it took just a few seconds to slip her feet into her sneakers.

Sliding her window up, she climbed out onto the ledge and then hung on by her fingertips—it was so damn easy now—while she pulled it down again. Then she let go and felt herself almost drift downward, landing gently on the grass alongside her father's car. A gentle hop took her over the fence, and she paused a moment to get her bearings.

She'd heard rumours about new capes going to what was left of the Boat Graveyard to test their powers out. The trouble was, if she knew that with her limited understanding of cape etiquette, so did everyone and their henchman. But that was okay; she had other ideas for testing her powers, and while she might get there eventually, that wasn't in her plans for the night.

Pulling her hoodie up around her head and tucking her hair under it, she called up the protective field over her clothing. As an afterthought, she extended a mask over her eyes and tinted everything black. Then she crossed the street and stood on the sidewalk, eyeing the roof of the house opposite speculatively.

If I can jump twenty feet straight up without even trying …

Another gentle hop got her to the top of the paling fence and she found herself balancing on top of it with ridiculous ease. Then she kicked off again, floating upward in a feather-light arc until she landed on the rooftop. With an inward whoop, she ran along the roof-ridge and launched herself toward the next house. This time, she only touched down with a single footstep before leaping toward the next house.

It was harder to get used to than she'd expected. Her brain kept telling her to expect being heavy, and she had to explain otherwise to her powers. Being super-strong was also a new state of mind; did every Brute have this problem to begin with? In contrast, the protective cover was something that showed up automatically.

If I'm not careful, that could end up being a problem.

Brockton Bay's suburbia passed by beneath her in a blur. She had no idea how fast she was going, but she was only touching down on every fourth or fifth house now. The laws of physics were little but an amusing suggestion to her as she skimmed dreamlike across the rooftops.

And then she came to her current goal. Pausing on the last rooftop before the open area began, she eyed her target across the parking lots and sports fields. Under the chilly moonlight, it lurked, monolithic and ominous. In all honesty, it looked far more badass at night than it did during the daytime. When the sun was up, it just visually reeked of failure and decrepitude, like a meth addict passed out in an alley with urine-soaked pants, only slightly less appealing.

Winslow High School, be it ever so disgusting.

Gathering herself, more for the psychological benefit than the physical, she leaped high and far, covering half a mile in just a few seconds. With barely a crunch of gravel, she landed on the roof of Winslow, right next to the roof access door. Theoretically, it should've been locked, but years of having the door jimmied open to allow access for smokers and users of other substances had left the mechanism in a sad state of affairs; Taylor personally knew that a good shake would open the door from either side. Not that it would've stopped her if she actually wanted to go inside, even if it had been six-inch-thick hardened steel.

I'm never attending this hell-pit of despair and corruption again. What's the easiest way to manage that?

Standing on the roof, she considered her options. With the strength at her disposal, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could demolish the school in its entirety, given enough time. But this would be a long, boring task. Finding every last load-bearing structure would take forever, and she wanted to be home in time to get at least a few hours' worth of sleep.

The image came back to her of the SUV suspended above her by a fragment of metal, and she looked around thoughtfully. Jumping lightly down to the ground—she was definitely getting the hang of this—she looked through the parking lots serving both staff and students. Just to make sure of things, she completed a circuit of the school to ensure that no stray cars were parked in odd places around it.

There were no vehicles parked near the school at all. No lights shone through any windows. There was no indication of anyone, anywhere inside Winslow.

Good.

Taylor moved to the nearest corner of the massive building. Crouching down, she drove her fingers into the brick-work at just about ground level, on each side of the corner. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Concentrating.

At her mental urging, her power swept over Winslow, giving her an inner-eye knowledge of every room, door, chair, book and ceiling tile in the building. She knew where everything was, and the fact that there were no people in the entire structure. This had already been her supposition, but it was good to have confirmation.

She pushed her monochrome field until it covered every inch of Winslow above ground level. While she could've pushed for everything including the foundations, she decided not to be greedy about it. It didn't seem to take any more effort than the SUV had.

Then she stood up … and tore Winslow clear out of the ground.

It was a hell of a lot noisier than she'd expected. When tens of thousands of tons of concrete, brickwork and rebar separates from its foundations over a shearing plane covering nearly fifty thousand square feet, all at once, it makes a sound akin to a cannon shot mixed up with the world's biggest rock crusher. Her protective covering snapped over her ears and still she heard it, transmitted through her own flesh from her mouth opening. By the time the echoes started reverberating off the nearest houses, she was standing with the entire school held at chest height, using no more effort than if she was carrying a lunch tray through the line.

She was tempted to see if she could hurl the entire structure into orbit, but that would draw altogether too much attention to Brockton Bay. So instead, she tossed it upward lightly; in this case, 'lightly' meant 'with enough force to make it go about ten feet in the air before it comes down'.

And down it came, with all the force and inevitability of a thousand outraged lawsuits, slamming into its own erstwhile foundations with the second tremendous BOOM of the evening. Lights had already started to come on here and there in the surrounding houses; now, there were a lot more. Walls ruptured outward, windows simply exploded, and when her ear-coverings receded she was sure she could hear bits and pieces of the school collapsing in on itself. But what she'd just done had most assuredly drawn the attention of all the authorities, so it was in her best interests to not be present when they arrived.

Fortunately, she had that bit covered.

<><>​

Half an Hour Later

Miss Militia

Hannah rode her motorcycle up to the mass of police and fire vehicles clogging up the parking lot, then pulled into an as-yet unused corner and parked it. Taking her helmet off, she slung it on the bike then moved through the crowd with purpose; the double-bladed battle-axe slung over her shoulder served to clear the way with admirable alacrity. A few enquiries led her to the person she was looking for: Armsmaster, who was currently loading esoteric equipment back into the capacious panniers of his own highly customised ride.

"Militia," he greeted her without turning his head.

"Armsmaster," she replied. Jerking her head toward the mass of rubble before them, she raised her eyebrows interrogatively. "How big was the bomb, and was it anything exotic?"

"It wasn't a bomb," he said bluntly.

She bit back her immediate denial of his conclusion, and eyed the remains of the school more carefully. Colin wasn't the most social of people, and could be abrupt at times, but his reputation as a Tinker was formidable. His tech did the job, and did it well. For him to come to that conclusion, he must have detected something.

Her examination of the demolished building yielded no further insights. "Okay, I'll bite. If it wasn't a bomb, then what was it?"

"Not sure." He packed away the last of his equipment. "But there are no chemical traces of any known explosives, and an analysis of the stress-fractures on all the pieces of rubble I was able to identify indicates that whatever destroyed it came either from above or below, and hit the entire building at once."

Hannah considered that. "So ... either it got stepped on by someone wearing a size one million large, or the ground somehow smacked it from beneath." She hated that either one was actually plausible.

"I considered that too, but then I had to factor in the double pulse." Colin's tone was didactic now. "There weren't two impacts, because the debris spray pattern would be different. My personal theory is that someone utilised a ranged force field or tractor beam equivalent, and hoisted the entire school into the air. When it was about fifteen to twenty feet up, the hoisting mechanism was either deliberately or accidentally released, and Winslow fell that distance; the overall observed damage would fit that distance."

"Mmm." Hannah twisted her lips under her flag-print scarf. "So, you figure we're looking for a Tinker with a hate-on for Winslow?"

"Or schools in general," Armsmaster replied. "But we can stick with Winslow for the moment."

Hannah rolled her eyes. This was as blatantly obvious as cape activity could get. Which meant the PRT had to claim jurisdiction. The suspect pool was simple: everyone who hated the school. Which in the event probably meant about half the teaching staff and ninety-nine point nine percent of the student body.

I'm just glad I don't have to sit through all the interviews.



End of Part Eleven

 

Earning Her Stripes

Part Twelve: Troubles

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal].

Saturday Night
10:55 PM
Near the Boardwalk

Firebird

Emma ran across the top of Fugly Bob's, then leaped onto the telephone cable that ran between the buildings and jogged along it. It was springy under her feet, but she never came close to missing her step; since she'd taken the vial, things like this had gone from nigh-impossible to mundane. Off to the side, well away from the wiring, Sophia was gliding across the gap in her shadow form. She was doing that as much as possible these days, showing off what she could do that Emma couldn't.

It was a little sad, in Emma's opinion, that Sophia still thought she had to exert some kind of superiority over her and Madison. Though she'd stopped trying to give Tinker advice to Madison, which was a relief. The last time she'd done that, Madison had offered her a tiny engraved piece of plate metal, barely a quarter of an inch square.

"What's this?" Sophia had asked incautiously.

"Read it," Madison had said bluntly, and gone back to work on what she called her 'big gun'. Sophia had squinted at it then sworn luridly as she threw it in the trash and stormed out.

About thirty seconds later, when her curiosity had become too much to handle, Emma had retrieved the piece of metal from the trash. On one side, in tiny lettering, was engraved the words, 'Everything Sophia knows about Tinkering.' The other side was blank. Emma still giggled when she thought about it.

Madison's Blockade Mark 2 power armour was too big and heavy to rooftop-run alongside Emma and Sophia, so it was pacing them down at street-level with long, loping strides. Emma had to admit; as effective and capable as the Mark 1 armour was, the upgrade had improved its speed and fluidity of movement considerably.

"Wait," Madison said just before Emma got to the next building. "What was that?"

Their radio link had to be cobbled together by necessity; while Madison had a base station built into her armour, she didn't do the tiny little earpieces that the Tinkers in all the TV dramas supplied. So, Emma had had to buy herself and Sophia a pair of Radio Shack walkie-talkies, and Madison kept the suit radio tuned to that frequency. It worked well enough, but it couldn't be encrypted, so they made sure not to say anything specifically revealing on the channel.

Emma jumped the rest of the way to the next roof, just as Sophia arrived there and solidified. She glanced down at Madison, who had stopped; the battlesuit's glowing red eyes seemed to be looking down the street they'd just crossed over. There didn't seem to be anything of note that Emma could see from her viewpoint, not even a drunk sleeping behind a dumpster.

Reaching up to the hidden switch beside her neck, she pressed the button to transmit. "What was what?" And then she heard it herself; a double rolling boom, distant but still powerful enough to reverberate in her chest. There was about a second or so between them. "Shit. What was that?"

"Bombs," Sophia said authoritatively. "Not something pissy like a hand grenade. That was halfway across town. Something big just got blown up. We might have a gang war on our hands, guys." She sounded pleased at the concept, which Emma personally disagreed with. A gang war, for all that it offered the Real Thing the opportunity to strut their stuff and flash their credentials as heroes, would also mean unavoidable civilian casualties.

"Yeah, but where?" she asked. "People could be hurt. We need to get there and help out, now." It wasn't as though they were catching any muggers where they were; when the Blockade suit came striding down the sidewalk, potential criminals tended to revise their plans for the evening.

"I've got a compass bearing and a rough distance," Madison said. "Cross-referencing with the map … huh. Close proximity to Winslow. Interesting."

"Okay, that's bullshit," complained Sophia, shading her eyes and staring across the cityscape while she pressed the radio button. "I can't see any fires or mushroom clouds or even regular dust clouds. You're down at ground level. How do you know where it is, and how far? Hell, how come you heard it before we did?"

"I've got seismic sensors in my boot soles," Madison explained crisply. "After the first one, I had just enough time to plant both boots, so I got a good solid reading for direction, and a rough cut for distance. The time until you heard it let me firm it up. And I heard it first because sound travels faster through the ground than it does through the air."

Emma saw Sophia's frown through the hockey mask she wore. "That can't be right. Wouldn't it be slower? All that stuff in the way?"

"We can argue physics later," Emma said hastily, not wanting to get caught up in the argument though she knew Madison was correct. Sophia could be a pain to argue with when she thought she was in the right. "Winslow's miles away. How are we gonna get there in time to do any good?"

"And they laughed when I built jump-jets into my multi-ton battlesuit," Madison said rhetorically, though Emma knew she hadn't laughed. While Sophia may have made a few snide comments about the concept, Emma hadn't realised Madison had overheard them.

The heavy construct tromped into the side-street and held its arms out to the sides. "CLEAR," it boomed, its voice modulator bouncing gravelly tones off the walls on either side of the street. The people on the Fugly Bobs' balcony were waving and taking photos by now.

When Madison ignited the jump-jets, the sound was deafening. The massive battlesuit thundered into the air, blowing bits of random litter around like a mini-tornado and leaving a wide area of asphalt that had been cleaned down to the original tar. Balanced on four hefty thruster flares, the suit paused as it came level with the rooftop. Then it rotated, hovering with a certain elephantine grace, until it was facing away from the roof's edge.

"Well, come on," Madison said impatiently over the radio. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"

Emma hadn't actually thought this bit through. She'd known that, theoretically, she might have to ride on the back of Madison's power armour. Also theoretically, she'd known it was technically capable of flight. For some reason, she had never added those two aspects together. Now, she was faced with the reality of the situation. Oh, boy.

Steeling herself, she leaped across the gap—she'd jumped farther than that since getting her powers, but usually to a stable landing point—and grasped the handholds that had popped up behind the powersuit's left shoulder. A moment later, Sophia did the same on the right shoulder. "Ready," reported Emma.

There was no way they'd be able to hear Madison's exterior speakers over the roar of her thrusters, but fortunately the earpieces they wore made that unnecessary. "Hold tight, and keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times."

A moment later, the suit accelerated upward, then angled over on a trajectory toward where Emma figured the explosions had originated from. She concentrated on hanging on, angling one of her throwing-discs to deflect the worst of the slipstream around her. It was exhilarating to be flying this high over the city, with the buildings passing by beneath them, but also a little worrying; if something went wrong, even her enhanced reflexes would be hard put to save her unless she came down just right.

The flight lasted far too long (in her opinion) and yet at the same time, not long enough. Her first indication that it was ending came when Madison cut the thrusters, leaving them hurtling through the chilly night air over Brockton Bay. Her ears ringing in the sudden silence, Emma fumbled for the radio switch, but Sophia got to hers first. "The fuck's going on? Are we crashing?"

"We're not crashing," Madison said scornfully over her speakers. "Turnover for landing in five … four … three … two … one …"

Emma latched onto the handholds with redoubled strength; on 'one', thrusters flared and the entire suit flipped and rolled end for end. Then the main thrusters lit off again, this time decelerating the suit as they hurtled down toward the ground. Emma couldn't see their landing point due to darkness, which was both comforting in an ignorance-is-bliss kind of way, and somewhat terrifying, all at the same time. Were they coming in too fast? Had Madison miscalculated something?

And then houses loomed up around them on all sides, and Emma felt the slightest clunk as metal encountered asphalt. Madison cut the thrusters once more; Emma fancied she could hear the ping ping ping as hot metal contracted in the cool air. "See, what did I tell you?" the petite Tinker declared. "Piece of cake."

"Jeeesus fuuck," muttered Sophia, looking somewhat windblown, as she and Emma let go and dropped to the ground. "Fuck that shit. I'm walking back."

"Oh, I don't know," Emma countered. Her heart rate was still elevated, but she could tell it was already returning to normal. "It was fun, in a terrifying sort of way."

"Wusses, the both of you." Madison raised her arm and pointed. "This way."

"I'm going rooftop," Sophia said immediately, and darted into the shadows. A moment later, her shadowy form darted upward into the darkness.

Emma sighed inwardly. She's always got to be one-up. "So, what's this way?" she asked, falling into step alongside Madison and waving at a curious home-owner who was peering out through his front door.

"Winslow," Madison said. "Shadow Stalker was correct about the magnitude of the explosions. From the distance we felt them at, they were big. Something should be on fire, or a crater, or on fire and in a crater. So, unless you've got a better idea, we can start at Winslow and search outward until we find out what … holy shit."

While they were talking, they had rounded a corner onto the street that ran straight past the school. Emma had come down that same street many times, usually on the bus but occasionally in her father's car. She knew the school's blocky profile from this angle. But even though the lighting wasn't the best, her eyes were well-adjusted to the dark by now and she could see Winslow; or rather, what was left of Winslow.

"Son of a bitch …" she murmured. "Someone did it. They actually blew Winslow up."

Sophia appeared out of the darkness, gliding down as shadow and then reforming next to them in what Emma had to admit was a pretty dramatic entrance. "Told you," she said with considerable satisfaction. "Bombs." She paused. "Fuck. Bombs. Someone blew up Winslow?"

Emma blinked at the shift in tone. Sophia sounded a lot less self-assured now. "Yeah. Looks like it. No craters or mushroom clouds, or even fire, but that sure as hell looks blown up to me." She tilted her head as sirens became audible. "And here come the cops and PRT."

"No," Sophia said urgently, starting toward the demolished school. "We're not waiting for the cops or the PRT. We need to get in there now."

"Why?" asked Madison, keeping her speaker volume to a minimum as she and Emma followed along. "It's not on fire. I doubt there's anyone inside. Nobody to save. And I'm good, but I'm not good enough to rebuild it."

"No, you don't get it!" snapped Sophia. "I had a stash behind my locker! Spare costume, spare crossbow, spare arrows!" She glanced from side to side, then lowered her voice. "Used arrows. Evidence."

Emma frowned. "I'm not totally sure we're on the same page here. Evidence for what? The PRT already knows you were a vigilante before we formed the Real Thing."

"We're going to have to scrap the other plan, too," Madison said. "You know, the one involving an attack on a school? School's not there anymore." She didn't sound broken up over it, which Emma could agree with. The plan to push Taylor into villainy was sounding less and less heroic to her all the time.

"We're not scrapping the plan!" Sophia snarled—actually snarled. "I don't know what power Hebert got from the vial, but she's going down."

"Back burner, back burner." Emma focused on Sophia. "Evidence?"

Sophia took a deep breath. "Couple times I was out and about, I might've … screwed up. Shot one guy, meant to hit him in the knee, got him in that … what's that big artery in the leg? Lots of blood?"

"Femoral," Emma said at once.

"Yeah, that." Sophia showed no emotion as she recited the facts. "He was bleeding a whole heap after I pulled the arrow out so I put a bandage on it and put a tourniquet on, and called the cops anonymously, but I'm pretty sure he didn't make it. There were a couple like that. There was way too much blood on the arrows to properly clean off at home, so I brought them into school. I was gonna steal some of that industrial grade bleach they use here, but shit happened and I never got around to it."

Emma wished she felt more surprise at the matter of fact confession, but she found it all too easy to believe. "You killed people. Murdered them."

They were running by now, as the sirens got closer. "Is that why you wanted me to kill those Merchants?" asked Madison, still keeping her speakers quiet. "So we'd be the same?"

"Oh, please," Sophia said, her tone dismissive. "People like that, they're not the same as us. They're rapists, druggies, murderers. Animals. Every single one of them I had to put down like that, totally deserved it. I didn't just attack them out of the blue. They were hurting people. So a few of them died? No big deal. Not like anyone's gonna miss them."

Her words sounded … not convincing, but like she'd managed to talk herself into believing that they were true. It was her own personal self-affirmation. Emma could understand it, even though she disagreed with it. The police and PRT would also have a problem with it, she suspected. And if they matched the blood on the arrows to the dead gang members, they could use them to metaphorically nail Sophia to the wall.

"Okay," Emma said as they arrived at the outer perimeter of the debris. A few forlorn sections of wall stood up here and there out of the rubble, and part of the front wall had broken off to lie haphazardly in front of the pile. Tarnished brass letters attached to the chunk of concrete read LOW HIGH. Sounds about right. "Get in there and find your stuff. We'll cover for you as long as we can. But we will be having a talk about this later."

Sophia was already into the rubble before Emma finished talking. Madison stepped up alongside her. "Good luck talking to her about that. She only hears what she wants to hear."

That was about what Emma thought, too, but she knew she had to make the effort. "She needs to hear it from us. If we don't make her face up to what she's done and where she's going wrong, who will?"

"Armsmaster." When Madison said the name, Emma thought for a moment that her teammate was positing the Protectorate Tinker as a potential mentor for Sophia. But then she heard the familiar rumble of the highly modified motorcycle. Turning, she shaded her eyes from the glare of the headlight as the Protectorate ENE leader pulled to a halt and got off his bike.

"Firebird," he called out. "Did you see what happened here?" As he spoke, his helmet turned from side to side, scanning over the heap of debris.

"No, we were at the Boardwalk when we heard the bombs go off," Emma replied, feeling a secret thrill at being addressed as an equal by a hero of such stature and reputation. "Blockade got a distance and direction and jumped us over here. We've only just arrived."

"I'm impressed," he said, looking Madison's armour up and down. "Jump jets? I don't think you had those in your last iteration."

"I didn't," agreed Madison. "They seem to work okay so far." Which in Madison-speak meant they were functioning perfectly.

"Good, good," he replied absently, then looked around. "Didn't you have a third member? Shadow Stalker?"

"Uh, yeah," Emma replied. "She went into the rubble to see if there was anyone trapped inside who needed rescuing."

"It's doubtful that there would be any," he said. "I've been mapping the area with IR, and the only footprints in the last hour are from myself and you three. This also means that whoever did this was a flyer, or they did it from a distance. Or perhaps a device was left in the school from earlier today and triggered remotely or via a timer."

Emma tried to fault his logic, but couldn't. "You're probably right, yeah. I'll tell you what, though. Whoever did this absolutely wanted Winslow demolished if they used two bombs."

He chuckled. "I can't argue with that, but Shadow Stalker needs to get out of there. Can you call her back?"

Madison shook the battlesuit's 'head' ponderously. "No. When she's in shadow state, her radio doesn't receive."

"Ah. Can she hear sound?" Armsmaster took a miniaturised bullhorn from his belt.

"Sure," Emma agreed. Let's hope she's got what we came here for. Even though I am gonna kick her ass for blindsiding us like that.

"Good." He put the device to his mouth. Emma could tell the sound was very directional, and extremely loud. "Shadow Stalker, this is Armsmaster. Please exit the rubble at once and return to your team. You are only endangering yourself."

Long moments passed, then Sophia popped out of the debris before them. "Oh, hi," she snarked.

"Good, there you are," Emma said. "Did you find anyone at all in there?" Take the hint, take the hint …

"Nah." Sophia made a show of brushing herself off. "Checked Blackwell's office and a few other places. We got lucky. Place was empty."

"It still reflects well on you that you went in there and made the effort," Armsmaster declared. "We need more young heroes like you."

"Damn right we do," agreed Sophia, not at all to Emma's surprise. "Any idea who might've done this?"

"Not yet, but there will undoubtedly be clues to be found." Armsmaster began unpacking equipment from one of his bike panniers. "Could you do me a favour and keep away the rubberneckers until the PRT and police arrive? We don't need any idiots climbing in the rubble and getting hurt. Or worse, destroying evidence."

"We can absolutely do that," agreed Emma. "Come on, guys."

She led the other two away until they were standing at the far end of the pile to Armsmaster. With the entirety of the destroyed school between him and them, she felt safe enough to converse in low tones. Looking at Sophia, she raised an eyebrow. "How'd it go?"

"Sucky." Sophia grimaced. "My locker was smashed, the stuff behind it scattered. I found some of the arrows, but not all."

"Hm," Emma mused. "Maybe we can come back once the cops and PRT have combed the place over and figured out who did it."

"Yeah, that'll be a case of explosive residue and stuff," Madison put in helpfully. "The quicker they figure that out, the sooner you can dig up your dirty little secret and hide it again."

Sophia gave her the finger. "Yeah, fuck you too … ooh. I just got the best idea. Two birds with one stone, even."

Emma felt she shouldn't be getting such a feeling of foreboding every time someone said they had a great idea, but there it was. "I'm listening."

"Hebert." Sophia's tone was full of gleeful satisfaction. "We know she's got some kind of weak destruction power, but it knocks her out when she uses it, right? So, we tell the PRT that we're pretty sure that she did this, they check her out, and whaddaya know, she's got powers. They stop guarding this heap of shit, I get my stuff, win-win."

"Wait, how are they going to know that?" Madison asked. "All she has to do is say she doesn't have powers. You can't prove it if she doesn't use them."

"Yeah, you can." Sophia tapped the side of her head. "There's a little part of the brain that only shows up in capes. I've got one, you've got one, and for sure Hebert's got one. They can test for 'em with MRIs. It's why I can't go pro in track and field; before you can sign up for a paycheck, they test you for that part of the brain. She'll have it, and that means we've got her."

Emma rubbed her chin. There were several things wrong with the concept as stated. Primary among them was the idea that it was wrong to frame Taylor for this level of destruction. Unless … "What if she really did this? I mean, if anyone's got motive to hate Winslow, it's her. And destruction is destruction."

"What? Fuck, no!" Sophia kept her voice down, but it was a near thing. "Hebert's a wimp. There's no way in hell she gets to be strong enough to do this." She gestured at the heap of rubble that had once been a school. "That sad little queef doesn't deserve this sort of power."

One of the glowing eyes on Madison's powersuit dimmed briefly, out of Sophia's line of sight. "Yeah, but what if it was her?" If it hadn't been for the electronic 'wink', Emma may have even taken her ingenuous question at face value. "I mean, that's all kinds of badass, right there. Someone that powerful, there'd be no question of whether she's worth bringing into the Real Thing. She'd be a real asset to the team."

"We are not bringing Hebert onto the team!" To her credit, Sophia kept her voice down, but with that level of intensity, Emma had to wonder about her blood pressure. "It's not going to happen! It goes against the whole plan! She needs to get fucked up so hard she never recovers! So when we tell Armsmaster we're pretty sure it's her—"

"We can't." Emma had been thinking about this, and a few other things. If Sophia wasn't her friend, Emma would be wondering about her mental balance right now. But the other thing she'd been considering was whether the plan Sophia had hijacked from Madison could still be carried through, or if she even wanted to.

Sophia swung toward her. "What do you mean, we can't? We just tell them she's got powers—"

"We don't officially know that," Emma interrupted. "We told Blackwell we tore the lockers open. We can't even say we saw her using powers elsewhere in school, because we're not supposed to be attending there." She raised a finger. "Worse, you made us—the Real Thing—look stupid when you took the padlock off her door."

"It was a joke," Sophia muttered sullenly, evidently unused to being called to account for her actions. "That way, people see her like a hysterical idiot and don't listen to her. Like what happened with Blackwell."

"And it makes me look like a trigger-happy idiot who doesn't look before destroying property," Madison observed sarcastically. "Well done."

As Sophia was about to retort, Madison held up her hand for silence. Sophia looked less than thrilled, but she complied. A moment later, Velocity zipped around the corner of the rubble and came to a halt in front of them. "The Real Thing, right? Armsmaster sent me to get you. BBPD and PRT are on site."

Emma nodded. "That's us. Does he need us any more? Because we had some patrolling to do if he didn't."

"One second." Velocity put his hand to his ear and had a brief murmured conversation, then looked up. "No, you should be good to leave. He said to commend you again for responding so promptly."

"Tell him the Protectorate gives us a good example to follow. And that I still think his halberd is too fragile." Madison paused as Velocity looked confused. "Don't worry, he'll get it."

"... right." Velocity shook his head and chuckled. "Tinker humour." He stood and watched as they trooped away.

Once they were at the far perimeter of the sports field, Emma turned to look at the others. "I'm heading home to bed, but we're going to need to have a talk sometime about the padlock thing, and the arrows."

"Geez," Sophia groaned. "Can't you just let done be done?"

"Blindsiding the rest of us is not cool. Teams don't do that." Emma put all the authority into the words that she could, and was rewarded with a blink of surprise. "Also, we're going to be stepping back on the Taylor stuff, at least until we know where we are with it."

"Wait, what?" Predictably, Sophia was the one who protested. "No. We do not go easy on her. Now that Winslow's trashed, she gets to transfer to Arcadia, and she does not deserve to go there! It's up to us to make sure she knows her place."

"Sophia." Emma shook her head. "Let it go. She's not worth getting so worked up over. We're stepping back, getting some focus in the matter. This isn't an argument, this is me telling you."

Sophia glared at her. "I'm team leader! You don't give me orders!"

Emma spoke softly. "I challenge for leadership. Name your contest."

She'd been willing to let Sophia bluster, but this was getting out of hand. Even if she never intended to be Taylor's friend again (unfortunately, she'd instigated far too many bad interactions for that to be likely) she'd lost sight of why she was expending so much effort to 'get' Taylor, once and for all. Madison was showing signs of thinking the same way, but Sophia was fixated as ever. Emma had tried making a firm request, but Sophia just dug her heels in.

So now it had come to this.

Behind Sophia's hockey mask, Emma could see her eyes flicking back and forth, trying to come up with a contest she could win. Emma was smarter, with better grades, and (thanks to her powers) had outmatched Sophia every time they'd gone against each other physically.

Madison broke the deadlock. "Voice vote, here and now. Sophia, your vote is for you. Emma, are you voting for yourself?"

"I am," Emma acknowledged.

"I've got the tie-breaker, then." Madison barely paused. "I vote for Emma. She's the team leader."

"You can't do that!" Sophia's voice was an outraged squawk.

"We just did." Emma felt tired. It was an emotional weariness, knowing a friendship was likely coming to an end. But friends were also supposed to support one another's decisions, weren't they? "We're leaving Taylor alone until we can sort this out. Got it?"

Sophia didn't answer, but neither did she argue. Emma decided that was the best she'd get.

"Good. I'll see you in the morning."

Turning, she picked a direction and set out across the city in the general direction of her home. It would take her about half an hour to get there, but that was okay. She needed the time to think.

<><>​

Sunday Morning
PRT Building ENE
Deputy Director's Office

Armsmaster

Deputy Director Renick leaned his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. "The Winslow incident. Give me the highlights."

"Yes, sir." Colin settled into his reinforced chair, and paused to collect his thoughts. "At just before eleven PM last night, the PRT building and Protectorate HQ both registered a seismic event and an audible sonic pulse, sounding very much like two bombs had gone off in quick succession. When I arrived on the scene, the only other heroes on site were the Real Thing. I've encountered them before. For younger heroes, they're quite professional. Shadow Stalker was searching for anyone caught in the rubble, but I advised her to withdraw as there was no indication of anyone within. I then had them watch the perimeter while I set up my analysis equipment."

Renick nodded. "What was the result of your analysis?"

"Bear with me on this one, sir." Colin took a deep breath. "The entire school building, however many thousands of tons of brick and concrete, was torn bodily off its foundations, lifted to a height of maybe ten to fifteen feet, then allowed to fall straight back down again."

"Good God." Renick stared at him. "The entire school was lifted? It wasn't a bomb?"

"Our initial thoughts were that it was a bombing incident, but all the evidence says otherwise." Colin felt secure in saying that. Dragon had been happy to check his conclusions, and had backed them up all the way.

Renick took his glasses off and polished them with his tie, then replaced them. "I'll take your word for it, then. Next question: who? Who could do something like that, and why do it to a third-rate high school?"

"We're still working on narrowing down the culprit, sir." Colin grimaced. There was a huge suspect pool. "As for the why, I suspect it's quite simple. The culprit is likely to be a present or past student of Winslow itself . We've dug down to the principal's office, and we have the student roster to draw on, as well as the staff. Unfortunately, as with all high schools, there were students getting into trouble for doing almost anything you can imagine, and a few things I wish I hadn't. I'm even trying to cross-reference previous attendance with capes possessing powers capable of doing that. No luck so far."

"Understood." Renick rubbed his lower lip. "How many capes out there can do something like this? Maybe there's a lead there."

"We're looking into that too, sir." Colin spoke respectfully. "There's rumoured to be a cape in India who can teleport mountains into the stratosphere. I doubt he's involved. Closer to home, we have Shuffle and Annex in Chicago, who could theoretically do this. But as far as I know, neither one has ever set foot in Brockton Bay. In the city itself ... well, I'm aiming toward Tinkers. Straight Brutes can't lift buildings, because they break. But if someone could construct a powerful enough tractor beam ..."

Renick nodded. "I see where you're headed with this. Do you have one in mind?"

"One or two." Colin grimaced. "Maybe Leet. If I can find a computer game that involves stealing buildings wholesale, I'll see about asking him some questions. As for the other one ... well, Blockade of the Real Thing is a new cape on the scene, and he builds extremely over-engineered tech. If anyone could construct a tractor beam like that, he could." He paused as a memory triggered. "And as I recall, there was a report of the Real Thing being involved in some sort of incident within Winslow itself, just a few days ago. Rescuing a bullying victim. And they were first on the scene, last night."

Renick's eyebrows rose. "That sounds like a connection to me."

"It does, doesn't it, sir?" Colin stood. "I'd be very interested in finding out if he is—or was—a student there."

"Keep me posted." Renick gave Colin a vague sort of wave as he headed for the door.

"Will do, sir."



End of Part Twelve

 

Earning Her Stripes

Part Thirteen: Talking It Out

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Hebert Household
Saturday Night
September 11, 2010

Danny Hebert

Krk-boom.

Th-BOOM.

The first thing Danny experienced was the shockwaves travelling through the ground. Moving at a much greater pace than the soundwaves, they shook the house sufficiently that the windows rattled and he felt the double impact through his bed. That stirred him from his sleep, just in time for the sound to get there and wake him up entirely.

Sitting up by instinct, he fumbled for his glasses. Once, many years ago, he'd been on an excursion to LA, on the other side of the country. A mild quake had rumbled through and he'd been told in a matter-of-fact way to shelter under a door-frame until any aftershocks had finished. The quake had felt very much like this, which was why he was getting out of bed before his brain had properly woken up.

It took the three steps to the bedroom door before his thoughts finally kicked in, and he realized it wasn't a quake and he didn't need to shelter from anything. This was a relief; in his semi-somnolent state, he may have stood under his doorframe for half the night before wondering why there were no more shakes. He didn't know exactly what it was, but night-time explosions weren't a totally unknown phenomenon, especially with Lung and Squealer in the same town.

"Taylor," he murmured. She may have been awoken by the noises and not known what was going on. Or they might not have made her even stir. Teenagers were famous for being able to sleep through the most outrageous of disturbances. I'll just check anyway.

After going back for his slippers (the floorboards were cold at night, this time of year) he trod his way along the hallway to Taylor's door. Rapping very gently with his knuckles, he called out softly, "Taylor? Did that wake you up?"

Either she hadn't answered, or she'd spoken too softly for him to hear. He suspected the former, but he cracked the door open anyway … and stopped. Even with the moon down, enough light spilled in through the window from a nearby street-light that he was able to see something very important.

The covers were pulled back, and the bed was empty.

"Taylor?" he said again, this time out loud. Reflexively, he turned the bedroom light on, then squinted against the glare until he could see. It wasn't a large room, and she wasn't anywhere in it, even under the bed or in the closet. His voice rose in concern. "Taylor, where are you?"

Turning the hallway light on as well, he hurried back along to the bathroom. The door was open, but he spent a moment checking inside anyway. She wasn't there either. What's going on? Where is she?

The thought struck him that she may have gone downstairs for whatever reason, and fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the TV. His heart in his mouth, he headed down the steps and through the entrance hall into the living room.

The TV was off, the sofa empty. When he checked through into the kitchen, she was likewise not there.

Did she go for a walk in the middle of the night?

Beginning to really worry now, he checked the back door. It was still locked, the key hanging on its hook. The front door was a little more modern, not requiring a key to open up from the inside; he unlocked it and went out on the tiny stoop, peering up and down the street. No familiar figure caught his eye.

Re-locking the door, he went back along the entrance hall, checked the space under the stairs, then on into the kitchen. The basement was the last place he hadn't checked. He had no idea why she might be down there, but there was nowhere else he could think to look.

Even with the lights on in the rest of the house, the basement was nearly pitch-black; the grimy windows high up on the wall provided minimal illumination at the best of times. Reaching up, he pulled the cord to turn on the single yellowing bulb in the centre of the ceiling. At first glance, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he wasn't going to take anything for granted. If she was still in the house, she was here. There was nowhere else she could be.

And if she wasn't still in the house … well, he'd deal with that when he came to it.

Descending the stairs, he searched the shadows cast by the bulb. There was nobody under the workbench, or alongside the dryer. Under the stairs, where he kept his big toolbox, there was likewise a total lack of Taylor. However, he did find something so weird that he had to look twice. Specifically, a hole in the concrete wall, about the width of his fist, that had been smashed all the way through into the dirt.

How and why this hole had come to be, and what he needed to do about it, could wait for another day. Taylor wasn't in the house. Where she was, he didn't know, but he was certain about one thing.

Too many times in the past he'd failed her as a father, but this time he wasn't going to shirk his duty. He was going to find her, whatever it took.

Climbing the stairs rapidly, he didn't bother turning the basement light out on the way. In his mind's eye, he was visualising what he needed to do. Get dressed, get the car, go looking for Taylor. The thought crossed his mind that he needed to contact the police and report her as a missing child, but he decided not to take that step until he'd gone looking himself. She may well have decided to go and sit in the playground for awhile, to think matters over. I'll look there first.

Now that he had a goal in mind, his thoughts were steadier as he strode through the living room on the way to the stairs. He still intended to yell at her for leaving the house in the middle of the night, and maybe ground her for the two weeks she was suspended for, but no more than that. They were just getting to know each other again as father and daughter, and he didn't want to accidentally estrange her all over again.

Grabbing the nearest shirt and jacket out of the closet, he pulled a pair of trousers on over his pyjama pants, then shoved his feet into a pair of slip-ons. The car keys sat on his bedside table; he scooped those up on the way to his bedroom door …

… then froze as he heard the sound of Taylor's window sliding open. Even from the other end of the corridor, he knew exactly what it was. Leaving his bedroom, he moved carefully down the corridor toward her half-open door.

Either Taylor had been out and about, and had somehow figured out how to climb up and down the side of the house, or someone else was breaking into the house in her absence. Whichever it was, there was no way in hell he was letting that fly. Easing up to the door-frame, he peered around into Taylor's bedroom.

With only the slightest of grunts, the intruder climbed up onto the windowsill, then performed a surprisingly acrobatic flip into the room, landing on their feet between the bed and the desk. "And the crowd goes wild …" he heard Taylor's voice murmur, with a self-conscious chuckle.

This was the perfect moment. Pushing the door open, he leaned against the door-frame with his arms folded. "Well, I can tell you this much; I'm not wildly thrilled with you sneaking out like this."

Taylor stared back at him, eyes wide. Instead of pyjamas, she wore a dark sweater and jeans; even if she hadn't been, her expression of guilt would've given her away. "Um, I can explain?"

<><>​

Ten Minutes Later
Downstairs

Taylor

Heaving a deep sigh, Taylor sipped from the mug of cocoa that he'd made her. "I'm not sure why I went out. Well, okay, scratch that. I know why I went out. To test my powers." To demonstrate, she formed the black and white protective covering over her finger, and stirred the still-hot drink. "But I didn't know what I was going to do until I got to Winslow."

Danny's head came up. "You went to Winslow?"

She grimaced. "Stupid, yeah, I know. All the way out there, I was brooding about how I didn't want to ever go back there again, but I didn't really think about how I wanted to make it not happen until I got there. I mean, I can punch through concrete but it would've taken forever to knock the place down."

"Punch through concrete." Danny raised his eyebrows as he repeated the phrase. "Like, say, the hole in the basement wall?"

She felt her face get hot. "That was an accident. I thought I'd maybe dent the wall a bit, or put a crack in it. I did not expect to go all Alexandria on it."

"No, no, I get that." Danny sipped at his own cocoa. "It's not something people would expect to be able to do right off the mark."

"I know, right?" She put the cocoa down and spread her hands. "Most capes seem to know what they can do with their powers, straight off the bat. I'm kind of stumbling along until I accidentally do something, and then it's like, wait, I can do that? And my power's like, well duh."

"That could definitely be a problem, yes." Danny raised his eyebrows slightly. "Seeing as you're not totally covered in brick dust, you didn't spend half an hour smashing Winslow to small concrete chunks. Which raises the next question. Is it still there?"

"Uhh … no." She put her two index fingers together. "Not … as such. Remember how I told you about the SUV and how I caught it?"

"I remember," he confirmed. She'd demonstrated with the table, holding it up with just two fingers from one end, and the look on his face had been classic. "Wait … did you …?"

She drew a deep breath before answering. "Yeah. I made sure nobody was inside, then I ripped the whole damn school off its foundations, tossed it about ten feet in the air, then let it fall back down. Turns out if you drop something the size of a school building that far, you bust its everything."

Danny's eyes glazed over for a second, then he shook his head. "I can't even imagine how much … no wonder I heard it from here. And the whole building's destroyed?"

"Totally." She set her jaw, as if defying him to chastise her over it. "And I'd do it again. That place has been nothing but a horror story for me from the start. It deserved to go."

"And what about the teachers and staff whose workplace just got annihilated?" he asked mildly. "You just took their livelihood away."

"Three-quarters of the teachers either chose to ignore the ongoing bullying, or actively enabled it," Taylor said bitterly. "It's not my fault they did their jobs so poorly I ended up with the ability to destroy the fucking cesspit, as well as the raging desire to do just that. And if they're good at their jobs, they can get work elsewhere."

"But—"

"No, Dad." Taylor cut his words off with a slash of her hand. "One way or another, I was never going back. It was this, or cut classes. And I didn't want to get you into trouble."

"What about the lawsuit?" he asked in a reasonable tone. "Once we find Winslow liable for all the damages we're able to squeeze out of them, a transfer to Arcadia has already been written in as part of the compensation deal."

"And how long are they going to draw it out, in the hope that we'd run out of money?" Taylor responded. "More than two weeks, I bet. And they might have tried treating me a lot nicer to maybe get me on side, but knowing those hell-bitches and knowing the Winslow teachers, they're more likely to throw me under the bus and support any attempt at framing me for things like drug possession or worse. Anything that weakens the case against them."

From the expression on his face, he wanted to argue, but had nothing to come back with. The phrase 'would they really go that far?' floated in the air, but drifted off again unsaid. Taylor was pretty damn sure they would.

"Well, then," he said quietly. "I can't say I totally agree with your methods, but you certainly solved the problem in front of you. I hope you don't have plans for a similar level of revenge against Emma or her friends?"

"No, actually," she reassured him. "I'm not going to say it hasn't crossed my mind from time to time, but at the end of the day, they're just not that important. The only place they could get to me, the only place they had any influence, was Winslow. I just took that away from them. I've already won, and they don't even know it." She took up the mug of cocoa and drank from it. "Now I can concentrate on being a superhero."

"Huh." Danny nodded. "You have a very good point there. Still, you are aware that if you ever pull that particular stunt again, the Winslow cold case is going to open up again faster than a jack-in-the-box on crack cocaine. So, cars yes. Buildings no."

"Oh, I get it, I get it." Taylor shook her head. "There's no other place I'd even be tempted to do it to. I mean, why would I?"

"Also a good point." He lowered his brows. "In other business, there is the matter of you sneaking out without telling me, and vandalising your school. I'm not going to alert the authorities, but this is going to result in a grounding, young lady."

"Um …" Somehow, Taylor had been hoping that he'd forgotten about this little aspect of matters. It seemed he hadn't. "How about a compromise?"

He leaned his elbows on the table and raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"I still need to keep up with my schoolwork," she explained. "So, I take the bus from here to the library, do my schoolwork for the day, then come straight home again. That way, I'm not alone in the house all day, and you know exactly where I am."

"Hmm." He studied her expression, his own features unreadable. She tried her best to look contrite. "No side trips to the movies, no strolls along the Boardwalk? Just to the library and back?"

"Totally," she agreed.

He cleared his throat and raised a finger. "And no going out as a superhero without clearing it with me first."

She started to agree then stopped herself when a thought occurred to her. "Um, I'd normally be down with that, but what if I'm going to or from the library and I see someone who needs help from a superhero? A mugging or purse snatching, or something like that?"

Danny grimaced. "That's … that could be a problem, yes." He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table.

"There's only one way out of it that I can see," Taylor said. "I'm going to need a phone."

His fingers ceased their drumming and he turned his head away, looking up into the corner of the room. Physically distancing himself from the concept.

"Dad," she said softly. "It's the only way." Leaning forward over the table, she put her hand on his wrist. "I've got a way to make the world a little less shitty now. There's no way I can go looking for a public phone when someone's getting hurt right in front of me. I promise I won't be stupid with it."

Muscles flexed under the line of his jaw. Slowly, he turned to look at her. "We'll talk about it in the morning." His tone was grudging, but she could read the subtext. He could see her points, but he didn't want to seem to be giving up without a struggle.

"Cool," she said. "And thanks."

"Not a problem. Good night."

"Night."

<><>​

Sunday Morning, 10:05 AM
Barnes Household

Firebird

Emma checked the peephole, then opened the door. "Hi, Mads," she said brightly before waving to Mr Clements, waiting in the car at the curb. He waved back and started the car moving.

"Hi yourself, Ems." Madison smiled, but it was the same reserved expression she'd taken to wearing over the last few weeks, and not the too-cute saccharine simper she'd been putting on for the queen bee set at school. Likewise, she was wearing overalls and a shirt, not the short-sleeve and short-skirt numbers that Emma could've sworn were her favourites. Even her hair was carelessly held back with a scrunchie, not meticulously arranged with a million little clips. "What's this about?"

"Come on in and I'll tell you." Emma glanced up and down the road, nodded in satisfaction at what she didn't see (specifically, Sophia), and stepped out of the way for Madison to come through. Pushing the door closed, she led the way to her room, via the kitchen where she snagged a couple of cans of soda and a plate of chopped fruit snacks.

Madison didn't say a word to begin with; she just followed along, accepting one of the soda cans and opening Emma's door for her when they got to their destination. But once they were inside and settled, with the door closed behind them, she gave Emma an analytical gaze. "Is this about last night, with Sophia? Because I notice she's not here."

"It is," Emma confirmed, unsurprised. Once Madison had given up the ditz act and started Tinkering, she'd shown herself to have a real brain in her head. "I'm worried about her. She's starting to act irrationally, especially when it comes to Taylor. Or am I seeing things that aren't there?"

"Hmm." Madison pulled a small screwdriver from a pocket in her overalls and started flipping it through her fingers like an illusionist's coin. "I think ... yes and no."

Emma rolled her eyes and took a drink from her soda. "Well, that was about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. Care to clarify your answer a bit?"

Madison chuckled darkly. "Sure. But answer me this one first. Why were we even bothering to fuck with Taylor in the first place? She's never done anything to me, and I've damn sure never had a complete conversation with her. I literally don't know her, but every time I've spoken to her, all I can remember is being a spiteful little bitch. How about you?"

"Um." Emma dipped a piece of sliced tomato in salt and ate it, mainly to gain time to answer. "Do you know, I'm not totally sure? I mean, she was my best friend. When she lost her mom, I was there for her. Aunt Annette was nearly as much a mom to me as Mom is. And she was getting better, she really was. But when the shit in the alley happened, and I met Sophia, it was like ... I dunno ... I'd been looking at life all wrong or something. Somehow along the way, I got the idea that if Taylor was strong, I had to push her down to get stronger, and then maybe she'd get stronger too and we'd all be friends ..." She trailed off, not entirely sure where she was going with that.

"So, total bullshit," Madison summed up.

Emma nodded. "Yeah, but I bought into it then." She squinted at Madison. "I don't recall you saying it was bullshit back when you had the idea to force-feed her the vial and make her into a villain."

"Like you said, I bought into it." Madison shook her head. "It was like I was a fucking cat and you and Sophia were waving a laser beam in front of me, saying 'let's torture this girl you don't know for shits and giggles', and I was just chasing that beam. I was so into it, it's scary."

"Yeah." Emma took another piece of tomato. "And now I feel like I've grown out of it, and you've grown out of it ..."

"... but Sophia's still feeding on her own bullshit," Madison concluded. "It's like getting powers gave us second thoughts about what we were putting Taylor through, but Sophia's still back where we started."

"Were we that bad?" asked Emma doubtfully. "I mean, really?" She'd seen the fervor in Sophia's eyes, and it had been like looking at a religious fanatic. Having that gleam in her own eyes was not something she was comfortable with.

"Yeah, really," Madison said firmly. "We were talking about framing Taylor for crimes until she got sent to the Birdcage, remember?"

"Oh, right. Wow. Crap." Emma scrubbed her hands over her face. "Okay, so if we were able to break free, how do we snap Sophia out of it? Because right now, she's guzzling the Kool-Aid straight from the pitcher."

"Um." Madison crunched a slice of apple. "She's our friend. One of us. A member of the Real Thing. Hell, she thought up the name. It might be a bit difficult to get her to sit down for an intervention since you kicked her out of the top spot—"

"I had a damn good reason for that, and you know it!" Emma snapped. "It's why we're here today! She was being irrational—"

"Hey, hey, chill," Madison said soothingly, patting the air. "For the record, I agree with what you're saying. She needed to hear that we weren't down to follow her every whim. The trouble is, if she's not willing to listen to reason, where do we go from there? How do we get through to her?"

"I'm not totally sure about that," Emma admitted. "But between us, we should be able to think of something."

<><>​

Shadow Stalker

Sophia had gotten barely any sleep the night before, but it didn't matter. The seething anger in her gut, and about five cups of coffee, made up for it. She'd survived more than one day at Winslow on less.

She wasn't even pissed anymore at whoever had fucked the school up. That was done and dusted. Once she had her arrows back, she couldn't give a flying fuck.

It didn't even piss her off so much that Emma and Madison had just hijacked the leadership of the Real Thing right out from under her. She'd been the natural leader! Who'd had powers for the longest? Her, that's who! But not even that was important anymore.

No, what really ground her gears was how Emma and Madison were both going soft on Hebert, right at the moment when she needed stepping on the hardest. Couldn't they see that the main purpose for creating the Real Thing had always been to fuck up Hebert's life and make sure she stayed down in the dirt where she belonged?

It was clear that she couldn't count on anyone else. It was up to her. She had to show everyone that Hebert was a dangerous cape, even if she wasn't really (Hebert? Dangerous? Don't make me laugh) so Emma and Madison would come back around and the Real Thing would have a PRT-approved reason for kicking Hebert's ass up one side and down the other.

I'll make them understand. I'll be the big damn hero.

Just you wait and see.



End of Part Thirteen

 

Okay.

You know how Legend is out and Hero is still alive?

Cauldron is a lighter, fluffier version of itself.

It's not pulling the same "parahuman feudal experiment" with BB. Winslow is still shit, because Winslow is shit, but the rest of the city has the resources to absorb the people from Winslow.

The teachers* will find other jobs. So will the staff. The students will be placed with other schools.

For most of them, yes, it will be an inconvenience, but only an inconvenience. "Well, okay, no vacation this year."


*Except those found liable by the lawsuit. They're screwed.

 

Earning Her Stripes

Part Fourteen: Adding Fuel to the Fire

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: I was going to leave this chapter for next month, but I decided to write it now, to cover points that have been raised by some readers.]


Sunday, September 12, 2010
11:51 AM

Firebird

"So you left it in the park like we arranged, right?" Emma kept her tone light as she strolled along the sidewalk with Madison. She'd learned a long time ago that if she smiled and acted as though she were saying nothing of consequence, people ignored the actual content of her words.

"Yeah, the one just up ahead." Madison gestured with a nod. "I built a basic camouflage kit into it. It takes note of the general area and disguises itself as whatever best suits the surroundings, according to the algorithm."

"Neat." Emma grinned. "I contacted Sophia and told her to meet us there. What's the bet she shows up in costume?"

Madison shook her head. "No bet. She loves being Stalker more than anything." She paused. "Well, no. She loves winning more than anything. But for her, being Stalker and kicking ass is the ultimate win condition."

"You might have something there." Emma wrinkled her nose as she considered the idea. "Maybe—"

Before she could expand on her thoughts any further, the burner phone she'd acquired for use as Firebird rang. Pulling it from its pouch, she saw the name on the caller ID display and rolled her eyes. "Hey, Soph," she said. "There already?"

"Well, duh," Sophia replied. "Waiting for you slowpokes to show up. Crime's not gonna kick itself in the teeth, you know."

"We'll get there when we get there," Emma told her. "Just a couple of minutes away. Many people in the park?"

"A few." Sophia paused. "I thought Mads was leaving her suit here. If we have to go all the way back to her place, I swear—"

"Chill," Emma said, cutting her off. "She says it's there."

There was another pause. "Well, I can't see the fuckin' thing."

Emma turned to Madison. "She says she can't see it."

"Tell her she's blind." The petite girl's tone was as deadpan as her expression.

"I fuckin' heard that!" Sophia sounded actually pissed at that.

Not wanting to be part of a three-way argument, Emma hastily said, "See you when we get there," and ended the call. As she shoved the phone back into her pocket, she gave Madison a half-disbelieving glare. "What the fuck? You know she's already pissed off in general. Why are you poking her like that?"

Madison shrugged. "I'm tired of walking on eggshells every time she decides to get a wild hair up her ass about nothing at all. And we both know what it's ultimately about. Maybe I just want to confront her with it, and make her see how stupid she's being."

"I'm not sure that's the right way to go about it," Emma said.

"Well, what is the right way?"

Emma didn't know, not for sure. But she knew what wouldn't work. "Don't hit her with it head-on. If she gets the chance to dig her heels in, she will." Somewhere at the back of her mind, she was certain that she would've reacted the same way herself if confronted with an inconvenient truth, before she'd had her recent epiphany.

"So what, I sneak up on her with it?" asked Madison sarcastically. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Not sure." Emma considered what would work on her, then tried to imagine the same approach when applied to Sophia. As she and Madison had already discussed, Sophia's thought processes weren't the most rational these days, especially when it came to doubling down on Taylor's 'punishment' for … well, apparently for just being Taylor. "Maybe … pose a hypothetical and when she agrees to one thing, show her how Taylor's a parallel case?"

Madison tilted her head to give Emma a skeptical glance. "You have met Sophia, right? If she's in an argumentative mood, she'll deny that water's wet and the sky is blue. Just so she can be right."

Emma sighed. Madison wasn't wrong. "Just don't go at her head-on. That'll make her react the worst."

"Not giving me a huge number of options to work with, here. Just saying."

They turned the corner into the park and Emma hitched the backpack on her shoulder, her eyes scanning the trees and landscaping for two things. First; their third teammate. Second; inconvenient witnesses.

"Found her," she murmured, barely moving her lips.

"Okay, where?" asked Madison, equally quietly.

"In that … not sure what that tree is … third to the right, the one with the electrical junction box under it." Emma knew damn well that before she'd taken the vial, her eyes would never have picked out the shadowy form perched in the tree. Now, it was like her brain delighted in pointing out such things to her.

"Ah. Got it." Madison huffed a chuckle; Emma wasn't sure why. "Let's go say hi."

Emma glanced from side to side again. As Sophia had mentioned, there weren't many people in the park. If she stood on that side of the tree Sophia was lurking in, she could effect a quick change before people noticed. It was as good a plan as any. "So where's your suit?"

"You'll see." Madison chuckled again.

They converged under the tree; Emma moved around until she was covered from all avenues of observation, then opened her backpack and took out her helmet. Once that was on, she wasted no time in removing her outer clothing, which of course concealed her costume, and attaching the accoutrements that made her into Firebird. She'd practiced enough in the privacy of her room that she could manage it in under thirty seconds now.

There was a rustle of leaves, then Sophia dropped down on top of the junction box. "Took your own sweet time."

"Dad dropped me off at Emma's." Madison's tone was matter of fact. "We walked."

Sophia blew a raspberry. "And left your suit at home, right? So now we gotta backtrack."

"No." Madison tilted her head as if querying Sophia's statement. "What makes you think I left it at home?"

"Well, you're for sure not wearing it, and I can't see it anywhere around here," Sophia averred. "Unless you sank it in the lake. Which if you did that, I'm not helping you get it out."

Madison sighed and placed her hand on the side of the electrical junction box. "Activate."

"The fuck?" Sophia leaped sideways as the 'junction box' shed its holographic camouflage and began to unfold into the Blockade Mark 2 armour. "How the hell did you—?"

Emma was almost as surprised, but the hints Madison had dropped had prepared her. "Nice one. That auto-camouflage is really paying off."

Madison climbed into the armour and then set it to assuming its full form. "I thought so."

"Ha ha, very funny." Sophia stalked up to them. "Got me good. Can we fuckin' go on patrol, already?"

"Absolutely," Emma agreed. "I was thinking—"

For the second time in ten minutes, her burner phone rang. This time had her puzzled; she didn't think Madison would be prank-calling her from inside the armour, and Sophia was right there. Frowning, she pulled the phone from its pouch.

When she saw the name on the caller ID, her confusion increased. Why's Armsmaster calling me?

"Hello?" she said, after swiping to answer and putting it on speaker.

"Hello. I presume I'm talking to Firebird?" It was definitely Armsmaster's voice. Had there been a break in the Winslow case?

"That's me," she confirmed. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes. There is. It has to do with Shadow Stalker. Are you able to get in contact with her?"

She glanced at Sophia. "Yes. What's the problem?"

At the same time, Sophia's eyes opened wide behind the hockey mask and she made frantic negatory gestures. Emma realised why, a moment later. Shit, the arrows.

She still wasn't sure what to do about that. Sophia had broken the law, possibly murdered people with those arrows. But at that time, Emma hadn't known. If I'd known, would I have cared? She suspected not. The trauma from her encounter in the alley with the ABB had still been sharp in her mind at the time.

Intellectually, she knew, Sophia should turn herself in and accept whatever punishment was coming to her for that. With the stories Emma had heard passed around between her father and his work colleagues, if Sophia went in front of a vigilante-friendly judge, she'd only get a slap on the wrist, maybe some juvey time, and be out on the streets again in a few months. But this wasn't an intellectual exercise anymore. This was real life. And Sophia Hess never surrendered for any reason.

"I did a deeper investigation into the wreckage of Winslow after you left," Armsmaster stated. "I found something quite concerning." Emma glanced at Sophia. Here it came. "Winslow is an older building—was an older building—and standards were quite lax when it was constructed. I found worrying amounts of asbestos floating in particulate form in the general vicinity. It's now being misted down, preparatory to either being encased in concrete or dug all the way out, but Shadow Stalker went into the wreckage in her shadow form. There's a strong chance that she accumulated some particulates in her body, which could cause adverse reactions in the future. I strongly suggest that she seek a medical prognosis, or book some time with Panacea, as soon as she is able."

Wait, what? "Asbestos?" Emma had to repeat the word to make sure of it. "Are you certain?" This wasn't about the arrows at all?

"One hundred percent," he replied. "Kindly pass the word on to Shadow Stalker as soon as possible, if you can."

"I'll make certain to do that," she confirmed. "Thanks for letting us know."

"You're welcome." He ended the call.

"Asbestos?" Madison's tone was bemused. "I didn't even think of that. Huh."

"Ass-bullshit, if you ask me," Sophia retorted. "I feel fine."

"No, no." Emma held up her hand in a 'stop' gesture. "The more I think about it, the more likely it seems there was asbestos in that building. Getting it into your lungs, getting it into your everything, is a really, really bad thing. Asbestos is basically a rock, and the particles are sharp and jagged, so if you get it into your lungs, it'll cause scarring and shortness of breath. That's literally what they call asbestosis."

Sophia shook her head. "I feel fine. There's nothing to worry about."

Jesus Christ, it's like talking to a brick wall. Emma appreciated Sophia's hard-charging attitude when they were fighting bad guys, but her utter lack of give at any other time was really starting to grate. "No, it can get serious. It might take years to kick in, but you could end up wheezing like a ten-packs-a-day person."

"Years? I'm good then." Sophia waved a hand dismissively. "When the time comes, I'll get Panacea or someone to fix the scarring, and I'll be fine."

"Asbestosis isn't the only thing that can happen." It was time for one last try. "Did you know you can also get cancer from it?" She couldn't remember the word exactly, but it started with 'metho', and that was as far as she could get.

Sophia snorted. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Fuck, will you take this seriously?" Emma wanted to run her hands through her hair. Or punch Sophia. One of the two. "Most of your vital organs have a protective layer of cells over them. I can't remember what they're called, but if asbestos gets into those, it can cause them to go cancerous. It's sneaky as fuck."

"And if anyone could get asbestos all the way into those cells, it's you," Madison added helpfully.

"No. No, no, no." Sophia shook her head. "I can't get cancer that way. I go through old buildings all the time. They've gotta have asbestos all over, and mold and shit. I've never had any problems before."

"Have you ever gone through a collapsed older building, where the asbestos is floating around as particulates instead of in solid form, and have you ever gone semi-solid in those buildings to grab stuff, like arrows?" Emma raised her eyebrows behind her visor.

From the look Sophia gave her, the answer was 'no'. Unfortunately, the attitude was also 'no'. "Where are you getting all this shit from, anyway? Last I heard, you were a kick-ass type, not a medic type."

"You pick up stuff," Emma said. "I used to spend a lot of time sitting around with Taylor, listening to the Dockworkers talk about work hazards. Her dad was very vocal about it."

"Well, that explains it." Sophia rolled her eyes. "He's a Hebert, so he's full of shit. That was all probably just him making up ways for the union to gouge more money out of anyone they work for. C'mon, we've wasted enough time. Let's go find some asses to kick."

"But—" Emma cut herself off as Sophia turned away. This discussion was over, but maybe she could raise it again at another time. It was possible that Madison had a point; if they could snap Sophia out of her irrational hatred for Taylor, perhaps they could make her see reason on this aspect as well.

Sophia was their friend. It was their duty to try.

<><>​

In the Car
12:15 PM

Taylor

"I can't believe Mr Sacke agreed to see us on a Sunday," Taylor observed as they made their way through weekend traffic toward the offices of GS&T. "I can't even believe they're open on a Sunday."

"Quite a few lawyers are," Danny said. "And he agreed to see us on short notice because what's happened to Winslow is likely to affect the case in some way."

Taylor blinked, the realisation stealing over her that maybe she might have gone a little too far. "Shit. Have I just lost us the case?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it. Mainly because if that was the case, he could've told us over the phone instead of getting us to come all the way into his office to give us the bad news. With any luck, it just means we have to readjust some aspects of the case. After all, they still fell down on the job in a major fashion. The presence or absence of an actual school building doesn't actually change that."

"Right." She essayed a weak chuckle. "So, I guess it's a good thing I didn't do it in the middle of the school day. Because it's hard to sue someone who's dead."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." He cleared his throat. "But getting back to the subject of you destroying the school, and sneaking out in general …" he heaved a deep sigh. "We do need to talk about that. You were incredibly irresponsible, and I'm not sure you understand just how much trouble you could be in right now if things had gone differently."

She stared at him. Up until this point, he'd been almost light-hearted about the whole thing. Now, it seemed, the other shoe was dropping. "Umm … I thought you weren't angry?"

"Oh, I was." He kept his eyes on the road, and the tone of his voice never changed, but the steering wheel creaked under his grip. "But last night, when I first saw you, the main thing I felt was relief. Relief that you were alive, relief that you'd come back safely, relief that you'd come back at all. Before that point, when I was tearing the house apart and you weren't there, it was like I'd lost Anne-Rose all over again."

Taylor felt a lump growing in her throat. She recalled, back in the darkest times, seeing her father wander aimlessly from room to room. At the time, she hadn't known what he was doing, but now she did. He was looking for Mom.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"You didn't know." His voice was rough. "Yeah, I get it. But when I saw you come in through the window, it was like you'd been dead and you were alive again, and all I could think for a moment was thank you, God." He paused for a moment, to pull out and pass another car. "But after that moment, the anger came in. I wanted to yell at you so badly, but two things stopped me."

"Two things?" She asked it quietly.

"Yeah. First, we just got back in touch with each other. We are making progress. We're talking, you're smiling, and we are on track to taking Winslow to the cleaners." He heaved a deep sigh, hands still gripping the wheel. "I was terrified of turning that around, that you'd pull all the way back into your shell again."

"Oh. Wow." Taylor hadn't considered it that way before. The fact that her father thought getting a smile out of her was important progress … how far down did I go?

"Mm-hmm." He slowed for a stop at the lights. "And then there's your powers. Once you explained those to me, I knew I had to be even more careful not to start an argument that would leave you angry and resentful."

"What?" She stared at him. "I'd never hurt you!"

He blinked in confusion. "What? No, I didn't mean that. I just … well, we were both getting tired, and that's when tempers are most likely to fray. If you got upset and decided to storm out, there's no way in hell I could stop you. You could literally walk out through the wall. I didn't want you leaving the discussion angry. So I held it in, conceded points where it didn't matter anymore, and guilted you where it did. You're more important to me than Winslow."

"Oh." This was a new side to her father. She'd heard of his negotiating prowess before, on behalf of the Dockworkers, but it was the first time he'd used it on her. "And what was the second thing?"

He sighed, and looked tired all of a sudden. "My father had a temper, too. He used to yell at me and Mom over the most trivial things. I felt the rough side of his hand more than once, growing up. When you were born, I swore that I'd never yell at you like that, or strike you. That's why I always left the discipline to your mother."

She'd heard about her grandfather's temper, of course, but she hadn't known the other bit. "Okay, but just because I didn't go to bed angry, that doesn't mean that …" Frowning, she tried to untangle the rest of the sentence in her head. "I mean, did you?"

Wordlessly, he lifted his hand off the wheel and showed her his palm. Four tiny bruises marred his skin, right where his nails would've been digging in. "I was furious. But there's a time to push for concessions, and a time to give ground. You were still there in the morning, so I figure I made the right call."

Taylor bit her lip. Her father had spent the night in seething anger, and it was all her fault. "I'll … I'll, uh, try to do better. And I really do promise to tell you if I'm going to go and do superhero stuff."

"And I appreciate it," he said. His smile, though a little pained, was genuine. "I'm likely to stumble a bit, too. I'm not used to being the dad of a superhero."

Wow, she thought as he found a parking spot and pulled over. I've wrecked a car and a school, and he's still got faith in me to be a hero. It put a warm feeling in her chest that refused to go away.

<><>​

The Offices of GS&T, Attorneys at Law

Danny

The front page of the paper showed an impressive heap of rubble, being sprayed down by fire department trucks, under the caption SCHOOL'S OUT. In the foreground was the partial sign, reading SLOW HIGH. Mr Sacke spread his hands, smoothing it down, then looked up at Danny and Taylor.

"An interesting development," he noted. "It does make certain aspects of our case more complicated, but I can't see a problem with pushing through the individual charges of negligence against all staff members who stood by and allowed the bullying to take place. The school officials can of course claim that any and all paperwork pertaining to this has been destroyed, but that's merely a speedbump. You have your evidence and your testimony, and the fact that someone appears to have demolished the school in one night can be used to prove that you are not the only ones who have a problem with it."

Danny cleared his throat. Despite his confident statements to Taylor earlier, it was a relief to hear his thoughts borne out. "So, we'll be going ahead as planned?"

"Mostly, yes," agreed Mr Sacke. "There will inevitably be a police investigation to determine whether you had any hand in the demolition, being people with a stated grudge against the school, but I'm certain that it will only be a formality." He paused, his tone becoming more serious. "Unless of course you did have a part in it, in which case the lawsuit will likely disappear without trace."

"Mr Sacke," Danny said firmly. "While I have some knowledge of handling explosives, I can categorically state that I had nothing to do with it. In fact, I was in bed when the school was demolished. It woke me up. As for Taylor, she's never been trained in their use. I doubt she'd know C-4 from blasting jelly."

Taylor shrugged. "It's true. I don't. Anyway, I heard the bangs too. Me and Dad went and had cocoa in the kitchen until we'd settled down, then we went back to bed."

"Good, good." Mr Sacke smiled. "I'll keep you apprised of the situation, then." Standing, he offered his hand. Danny and then Taylor shook it.

They were careful to not even look at each other until his office door had closed behind them.

<><>​

A Rooftop in Downtown

Firebird

"Blockade to Firebird, I think I've just spotted someone we both know." Madison's voice came over the radio earpiece quite clearly.

Emma was perching up high, keeping an eye out for pickpockets, purse snatchers and straight-up muggers, when the call came through. Sophia was across the street and down a ways, doing the same thing. Down at street level, Madison in the Blockade suit trod her way along the pavement, careful not to step on children and small pets.

"Copy that, Blockade," Emma replied crisply, wondering who she was talking about. "Give me a direction?"

"Sure. From where you are now … call it ten o'clock. Just coming out of a big office building, black shiny reflective windows. She's with a tall skinny guy. Her dad?"

"Wait one." From the description, Emma was almost certain she knew who Madison was referring to. Reaching down to her utility belt, she retrieved a small pair of binoculars. It was useless to try to get Madison to make a pair that didn't need both hands to use, so she was going with a basic commercial set for the moment.

Given the direction and the building, she flipped up her visor and held the binoculars to her eyes, panning over the people emerging from the building. This was where the lack of trade on a Sunday paid off; it only took her a few seconds to fix on the people Madison had spotted with her extra elevation.

"Wait." That was Sophia. "You're not telling me she's here? Right now?"

"Sure enough." Emma observed the pair of them through the binoculars a moment longer. Taylor was striding out, swinging her arms, not closing in on herself and shuffling along like Emma was used to seeing her do. That I made her do. The thought was intrusive, and she mentally waved it away. Yes, I know I did bad things. I've stopped doing them. I'm not that person anymore.

To give herself something else to think about, she turned her focus to Danny. It had been longer since she'd seen him; there were new wrinkles in his forehead, but he also seemed upbeat. She wondered who he'd been to see in that building.

"Well, she seems happy." Madison sounded like she was paralleling Emma's earlier line of thought. Her tone sounded relieved, which Emma could understand.

If Taylor was happy now, all they had to do to make things better was … nothing. Stepping beyond their self-realised awareness to act on the epiphany promised to be messy. Right now, they were doing good simply by not harming Taylor, and that was a good thing. Wasn't it?

"What? No." That was Sophia. "They can't … no." She sounded frustrated and angry. Emma began to wonder if they shouldn't have had the intervention before going on patrol.

"Shadow Stalker, this is an unsecure channel." Madison's voice was crisp and no-nonsense.

"Copy." It was a growl.

"Hey." For the first time, Madison sounded insecure. "I think … yeah, she just spotted me. Shit—!"

Emma froze as the slender figure darted onto the road. A horn blared and tyres screeched … far too late.

<><>​

Taylor

It was looking like a good day, after all. Sure, she was grounded for the next two weeks, but she hadn't totally messed things up by breaking Winslow like she had. Best of all, with the Federal relief money coming into the city—there was still a long way to go until they cleared the Boat Graveyard, but at least they were working on it—there would be enough for the surrounding schools to take on the overflow of teachers and staff from Winslow. The ones that the lawsuit didn't hammer into the ground, of course.

"So, home again?" she asked.

"Home again," he confirmed. "You worded your answer just right in there. Very sneaky. I'm thinking I might have to start being more careful about trusting what you say."

"Da-ad!" she protested laughingly, as he grinned at her. "I'm totally up front and transparent. No secrets at all, that's me."

"Mm-hmm." He gave her a very skeptical look. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Pfft." She raised her nose in the air and affected disdain. "You don't—" And then she saw, on the other side of the street, the huge bulky form of Blockade. All thoughts of playful banter fled as she realised that there was a witness to her being locked in the locker. If Blockade himself could attest to the fact that the locker had been actually locked when he tore the door off, that would make the case against Blackwell so much more airtight. "Hey!" she shouted. "Wait!"

Blockade seemed to turn and look straight at her for a moment … then kept moving.

No. No, no, no, no. Taylor didn't even stop to think; she ran straight out onto the road. What she didn't see was the pickup bearing down from her left. A horn blared, and its tyres shrieked as the driver stood on the brakes … far too late.

"No!" Danny was right there. He grabbed Taylor, swung around, and hurled her toward the curb. But he couldn't do that and get out of the way of the onrushing vehicle.

In the instant before impact, Taylor stopped. Grabbing his wrist, she latched on. Her power kicked in, turning him monochrome. The truck hit him, but the meaty crunch was more of a wooden thud. Still in her grasp, he went around in a semi-circle with her as the pivot point. At the same time, she hadn't moved quite far enough out of the way, so every panel on the entire right-hand side of the truck crumpled against her body or peeled off with an ear-piercing metallic shriek.

The truck juddered to a halt a good thirty feet onward. Its passenger-side panelling was wrecked, and the wing mirror was currently hanging off Taylor's shoulder. Plucking it off, she dropped it on the road, then let go Danny's hand. "Are you okay?" she asked.

<><>​

Danny

"… yes?" he asked rather than said, feeling his ribs. It felt like he'd just been shoulder-charged by a burly Dockworker, not hit by a moving truck. "How did that—?"

"I, uh, I guess, my power—" she began.

He looked around. "Move now, talk later," he said crisply. People were starting to point and ask questions, and he didn't want Taylor to be the subject of those questions.

"Right," she said, and all of a sudden she was wearing black shades over her glasses.

They hustled along the sidewalk, heading for the car. Nobody shouted from behind them. Nobody took a picture from in front of them. Heads down, eyes front, they kept moving. I see nothing, I hear nothing, I know nothing.

He got to the car first and unlocked it; they both got in and sat panting for a moment. Then they put their belts on and he started the car.

"Okay," he said quietly as they pulled out onto the road. "What the hell made you run out on the road like that?"

She grimaced and put her face in her hands. "Okay, yeah, that was a totally stupid thing to do. I wanted to talk to Blockade, and I didn't want him to get away."

"About the locker?"

She nodded. "About the locker."

He let out an aggravated sigh. "Okay. Christ, I thought you were just going to get run over. Don't do that to me!"

"I would've been fine," she protested. "My power would've saved me."

"And if that truck had come to a complete halt after wrapping its front end around you, the driver would likely have serious injuries, and you'd be totally outed right now," he snapped. "As it is, I don't know if we made a clean break or not. I thought you were going to be responsible with your powers!"

Silence fell in the car as he drove on steadily, careful to travel at exactly the speed limit. He wanted to say more, but didn't; it felt like he might have said too much already.

Eventually, Taylor let out a long breath. "I fucked up," she admitted quietly. "I didn't think. I acted first, and damaged that guy's pickup, and I could've gotten you killed. I'm sorry."

He nodded. "You could have, but you didn't. You saved my life." She'd admitted culpability, and it was time to give credit where credit was due. "Was that the ten-times-tougher thing?"

"Yeah." She sniffled. "I'm glad it worked. How are your ribs?"

"Like Kurt just picked me up and gave me a bear hug," he admitted. "Sore, but usable. And a lot better than they might've been."

"Good." She essayed a weak smile. "So, I'm still grounded, right?"

He snorted. "What do you think?"

"Just checking."

<><>​

Firebird

As the car drove off, Emma keyed her radio. "You guys saw that, didn't you?"

"Sure as hell." Madison sounded a little shell-shocked. "I thought he was street pizza for sure."

"What the fuck was that?" Sophia, on the other hand, sounded outraged. "How did she do that?"

"I don't know," Emma said. "But I want to find out." Whatever that was, it wasn't a weak destruction power. And she sure as shit didn't pass out afterward.

"Are you sure we don't want to recruit her?" Emma couldn't tell if Madison was being serious or not.

Apparently, neither could Sophia. "Fuck off."

"Suit yourself."



End of Part Fourteen