The Girl of Tomorrow [Worm/Superman]

A/N: I've gone completely mad. Bonkers. I don't know if I should actually be doing this, but I couldn't leave it well enough alone, and the sleep deprivation is really clouding my judgment. Depending on how you feel, as well as my reaction to this decision in the morning, then this thing may never have happened at all. It'll fade away, like a bad dream. But if this crazy thing actually works out, then it may become more real.

Best regards,
Thuktun Flishithy

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Danny Hebert hated the cold.

It bit and nipped at every exposed patch of skin, despite his attempts to bundle up, and the fierce wind blowing against him didn't help. The sea was turbulent, threatening to swallow his small fishing boat and drag him to the frigid depths below, and a stinging rain whipped to the sides, soaking him to the bone. He had sailed upwards, carefully skirting along the Canadian coastline and into Arctic waters, where there was good fishing.

Well, normally.

His hands were pale and shivering as he worked, pulling up yet another empty cage. Getting work as a deep-sea fisherman was getting harder and harder with each passing day, as the oceans were depleted of their bountiful stock, and even here he was having trouble getting enough to break even. It didn't help that the bigger ships, the ones owned by actual companies, did his job on a far bigger scale.

Hauling the cage back onto the deck, he muttered a curse to himself and made for the cabin. He had to struggle against the wind to shut the door, but he eventually managed to get it done. Rubbing his hands, he decided to switch on the radio, if only to keep himself distracted while he tried to warm up.

"...a dreadful sight in what used to be Moscow today, as the city perishes in nuclear fire. Earlier this morning, the creature known as Behemoth appeared in the Red Square, where it was engaged by an assortment of local parahumans and the Russian military. Despite managing to inflict grievous wounds on the monster, the defensive forces were forced back, and a small nuclear warhead was-"

He turned the radio off.

Warmth was finally starting to return to his hands. Breathing into them, he put on a dry pair of gloves and went out again, wincing as the wind bit into his face. One more haul, then he was heading home, back to Annette. There was no way in hell he was going to keep up with this if he kept on getting small fry and garbage.

That was when he noticed it. Something close to the boat, nearly as big as he was and bobbing in the violent waves. At first, he thought it was just a hunk of ice, drifting down from the Arctic, but as he peered closer at it, he realized that it was artificial in nature. It appeared to be made out of a silver metal of some kind, with a sleek form, and he found himself wondering if it was valuable loot.

There was one way to be certain. Grabbing the cage again, he hurled it at the silver object. The first time, he missed and had to pull it back, but the second time was a success. Once he was sure that the cage had the thing secured, he began to tow it closer to the boat. Sea spray drenched him as he worked, but he ignored the cold, tired muscles straining as he pulled the silver object closer.

As he got a better look at it, he realized that it looked almost like a missile of sorts, or like something from an old science fiction story. Small fins sloped out from the wide base, and a series of bulges ran equidistant around the middle, almost imperceptible.

Finally, it clunked against the side of his boat, and he pulled it up. It was far lighter than he'd expected, and as he set it down with a sharp ringing noise, he realized that it was actually hollow. It definitely had to be a storage container of sorts, but of what?

He ran his hands over the smooth metal. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and almost pliable like plastic as he pressed down on it. He looked around, searching for a handle or a hatch, but found nothing. The thing didn't even seem to have bolts or screws; it was as if it was made from a single piece of metal.

Was it tinkertech? It seemed more and more like a viable explanation with each passing second. Those barely-understood capes could make laser cannons out of junk; it wouldn't be out of their league to make something like this. Hell, he occasionally sold scrap he found to one in Newfoundland.

And if that was the case, then who made it? There didn't appear to be any form of identification on the rocket-like object. No barcodes, no sigils, nothing.

Wait. There was something, a faint design etched into the metal. A stylized 'S' of sorts, within the outline of a diamond. He ran his hands over it, his brow furrowed.

If it was tinkertech, then he could sell it to the local PRT for good money; they were always greedy for stuff they could try to study. The tinker in Newfoundland might be interested as well, but he was sometimes away from port on some strange task.
Danny straightened with a sigh. Something told him he was going to have to discuss it, first.

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"You brought it here?" Annette asked, incredulous. "What were you thinking?"

Danny looked across the strange object at his wife. It was surprisingly easy to bring it to the garage, where he had plopped it down on a table and called Annette down. Her reaction was, to say at the very least, unamused, and his explanation did not help.

"I, uh, got cold feet," he replied, rubbing the back of his head. "I was going to bring it in to the PRT, but I suddenly started thinking that, hey, they might think I was a mad tinker with a bomb, and... I decided to just come back here with it."

Annette pulled off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, I can see that, I guess. Kinda. But what if it is a bomb or something?"

"It didn't explode on the way here, so I thought it might be safe. I mean, it took a good few hits when the weather got really rough, and nothing happened even then."

"I think we should call the PRT, see if they can take it from us," Annette said, warily running a hand over the metal of the object. "Maybe they can-"

She was interrupted by a sharp click, one that sent both of them taking a startled step back. Eyes fixed on the strange container, they watched as a hatch slid open, and a small mechanical arm come out. It began to shine a bright green light on the wall, then circled around the room, as if it was scanning for something. The Heberts simply stood and watched, paralyzed with shock, as the light swept over them.

The arm stopped after three revolutions, then retracted back into the container. An even larger hatch sunk in and slid open, accompanied by a soft hiss of air as the inside of the container was exposed.

Then, a baby began to cry.

Danny glanced back at Annette, his jaw agape. His wife returned the favor, then looked back at the rocket. There was a moment's pause, and then she took a cautious stepped forward.

"Anne-" Danny began.

"Honey," she whispered, reaching her hands inside. "Look."

Slowly, gently, Annette pulled a baby out of the container. The infant was bundled in what appeared to be a red blanket, which was now the same color of its cheeks. Its cries ceased when Annette brought it close to her chest, and Danny stepped closer to it, a surreal feeling washing over him.

"H-how," he said, disbelief clear in his voice. "I mean, that thing was closed for three days straight, and it... it was in the water..."

"Shhhh," Annette whispered, gently rocking the baby in her arms. "It's okay, it's okay."

Danny looked down at the baby's face, its piercing blue eyes, and it looked back at him.

Then, it giggled, and something changed in him.

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"I don't think anyone's coming for the baby," he said.

They had moved to the living room, after hastily covering the rocket with a tarp. Annette sat across from him, still holding the baby. It was asleep, now, and still wrapped in the red blanket.

"It wouldn't matter if she did have someone," Annette said. "What kind of monster puts a baby in a box and puts her in the middle of the ocean?"

Danny blinked. "Her?"

"I checked. She's a girl. And I'm not just ready to give her up."

"Who said anything about that?"

"You didn't, but you implied we might have trouble," Annette replied. "Why send her to an orphanage when she could have parents here, right now? How long have we been trying for a baby?"

"A while," Danny sighed. "A very long while."

The baby cooed in her sleep, and Annette rocked her again. Danny watched, a small smile on his face.

"We're going to need to fabricate something if we go through with this," he said. "We need a birth certificate for her."

"We also need a name, first," Annette said. "How about... Sarah?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah; she doesn't seem like a Sarah. Claire? Lois?"

"I'm not feeling that, either. What other names did we come up with, all those months back?"

"Well, there's Tara, Lana, Zoe, Taylor-"

"Ooh, I like that one," Annette said. "Now what for a middle name?"

"Let's go with your name," Danny replied. "You have your mother's name as a middle, and I have my dad's; it'd only make sense."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Taylor Annette Hebert."

Danny smiled. "Taylor Annette Hebert."

The baby cooed again, as if in agreement.

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It was a cloudy day in Newfoundland when Danny came to port. The surrounding town used to be quite bustling, especially during the summer, but now there were only a half-dozen boats in the harbor. It wasn't a isolated case, either; coastal areas around the globe were suffering. Ever since that Leviathan monster appeared, people had become scared of port towns.

After securing his boat, he stepped onto the pier, tightly gripping the canister in his pocket. He had found it in the capsule, after checking to see what else had come with Taylor. It seemed to have a cap, but it refused to budge, no matter how hard he tried. Annette was not happy when she found out about the broken power tools.

He chuckled to himself at the thought, and walked to the bus stop.

Thankfully, the tinker was at the office when Danny finally arrived. After getting buzzed in by a rather heavyset clerk, he walked down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Danny. I think I have something for you."

"Oh? Do come in, then."

Danny opened the door and stepped inside. "Morning, Andrew."

"It's nice to see you," Andrew replied, leaning back in his seat. "So, what do you have this time? Make sure it's nothing too illicit like last time; the authorities' patience wears a bit thin with me."

"I think that's for you to decide," Danny said, producing the canister.

Andrew's brow furrowed. Rising from his seat, the tinker walked over and grabbed the canister, studying it intently. He peered at the cap, then tapped it, listening keenly to the hollow sound it made.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"I found it in the water, far from the coast," Danny replied. "I tried to open it, but the cap won't budge."

"I wish I had heavier equipment in the office," Andrew muttered. "I think I could still get a result, though."

Setting the canister down on the table, he produced a hand-sized device from a drawer. With a flick of a switch, it beeped to life, and he gave it a once over before setting to work. Holding it over the canister, he began to slowly sweep from side to side, eyes glued to a small screen on the gadget.

"Hmm... very interesting structure. Different from what I usually work with." Andrew glanced up at Danny. "Would you mind if I held onto this for a while?"

"Well... I'll give you a few hours. I have to sell the boat, anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Danny replied. "It's getting harder to make a living off these waters. There's already a job opening at the docks back home; Annette wants me to take up on it."

"Well, I'll miss having you visit," Andrew said. "You're a lot nicer than most of the sellers I have to deal with."

"It was good money," Danny admitted as he headed for the door. "It just wasn't enough to pay the bills."

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A few hours later, Danny returned to find Andrew at the desk, the canister before him. There was a haggard look on the tinker's face, as though he had gone for too long without rest. An assortment of gadgets cluttered the table, some of them dismantled.

"Something wrong?" Danny asked.

Andrew looked up, rubbing his face wearily. "This has got to be the most stubborn thing I've ever had to work with. X-ray scanners don't get a good reading, and neither does sonar. The laser failed to cut a hole when I used it, even after I upgraded it. Unscrewing the cap with hydraulics didn't work, either. I ground smooth a diamond drill on the thing, and a nano-cutter became chipped and dulled when I tried to cut into the metal."

"That's not very normal, I take it," Danny said.

"The material isn't even enhanced by a forcefield; it's just that tough. I don't think any tinker has actually made something on such a level, which is really saying something."

"What? You think it's from outer space or something?" Danny joked, only for his eyes to widen when he saw Andrew's reaction.

"I'm not jumping to that point," the tinker finally said. "Occam's Razor is still in effect, even when dealing with parahumans. No, there has to be a more believable explanation, somehow."

Andrew picked up the canister, twirling in his hand. "I might have something in my main lab that could handle it. Is fifty-thousand a good deal?"

"Fifty grand?" Danny sputtered. "You've never paid me even a fraction of that."

"That was before you gave me a possibly extraterrestrial object," came the swift retort. "I understand if you want to keep it, of course; it would definitely make for a nice decoration."

"Could I come back to you on it?" Danny squeaked.

"I don't see any reason why not," Andrew replied with a shrug, handing back the canister. "The preliminary scans I made could already be useful for a project I'm working on; there's definitely a computer of some sort in there."

Danny pocketed the canister. "It was nice seeing you, Andrew."

"Likewise."

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Danny smiled as Taylor played with her toys, even though he hadn't been able to sleep for days. The docks accepted his resume, and the pay was good. Not spectacular, but better than fishing.

"I don't think she's from around here," he finally said, turning to look back at Annette.

His wife raised her head from the couch. "What do you mean by that?"

"The guy I brought the stuff to? He couldn't make heads or tails of it. Said it was unlike anything he had ever seen before."

"So, what? She's an alien or something?"

"It was just something that was put out there," Danny replied hurriedly.

Taylor giggled as she chewed on her stuffed animal, then suddenly began to wail.

Annette sighed. "I'll go get the formula."

"That's another thing," Danny called after her. "We tried to have her nurse on you, but it didn't work, even after following that medical advice. What if that's because she's not..."

"Human? Because, despite looking just like a baby girl, she's actually a little green man?" Annette finished, incredulous. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

"Maybe the pod did it. Whatever kept her safe during those three days might have also made her look like us. It did open only after you touched it."

"Alright, then let's assume that you're right. Why bring it up?"

"We're going to have to bring her to the doctor for checkups and vaccinations," Danny replied. "What if they find out, and she's taken away from us by men in suits?"

Annette paused at that. She continued to rock Taylor, gently pressing the bottle to the baby's mouth.

"If she get's sick, we're taking her to the hospital," she finally said. "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Alright," Danny said.

"I wonder if there'll be signs," Annette murmured, her voice soft. "A way to know for sure she's not from around here."

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"She did what?!"

The kindergarten teacher sighed, leaning forward on the desk. "The other kids saw it, Mr. and Mrs. Hebert. Taylor broke Chris Tarpey's nose during recess."

"But he started it!" Taylor whined, arms folded as she sat on Annette's lap. "He was pushed Emma off the swingset and laughed at her! He was being a big meanie."

"Daddy will handle this," Danny assured, ruffling his daughter's hair. Already he could feel his temper swell, threatening to burst. "Miss, how could Taylor have done this? She's five, for god's sake."

"All the students saw it," the teacher repeated. "Miss Barnes can testify; she was the one who got pushed off the swings."

"So the Tarpey boy actually did it?" Annette asked. "Why is she in trouble and not him? She was just helping a friend."

"He's already been reprimanded for what he's done, and he was the instigator. But there's a difference between giving a girl a scraped knee, and breaking someone's nose, Mrs. Hebert. It wasn't a small break, either; it was like someone stepped on a rotten tomato."

"Can we at least see what this kid looks like?" Danny asked.

The teacher complied, pulling up a yearbook draft. "He's the first on the middle row."

Chris Tarpey, Danny saw, was not a small kid. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the boy was in second grade, maybe even third, and he was a head taller than Taylor. And, judging by the pudgy frame, about twice the weight.

"I can't believe this," he said, the words almost coming out as a growl. "He's picking on kindergarteners, and you're making a fuss about my five-year-old daughter teaching him a lesson?"

"Honey," Annette warned, putting a hand on his arm. "Deep breaths."

"All we're asking for is that Taylor apologizes to Chris tomorrow, after the doctor is done with his nose," the teacher said. "Taylor's not looking at detention, here."

Danny let out a long sigh. "Fine."

"Good. We're finished; you can leave if you want."

"How are her grades?" Annette asked. "Just want to know before we head out."

"Exemplary, actually. Taylor's a smart cookie."

"At least that's good to hear, honey," Annette offered, patting Danny on the arm. "Come on, let's head home."

Danny nodded and rose from his seat. Taking Taylor into his arms, he carried her out of the school and to the car. She was heavy for her size, he noted, and only getting heavier. Buckling her into the back seat, he hopped into the driver's seat. Once Annette was in the car as well, he took off.

As he drove back home, he glanced back at Taylor. The toddler's gaze was focused on the view outside the window, a half-smile on her face. Another strange thing; she was also quiet for her age.

"I hope you understand why you're in trouble, young lady," Annette said, turning in her seat.

"Because Chris Tarpey is a big meanie?" Taylor replied, folding her arms again.

"No, it's because you hit him too hard," Danny said. "There's nothing wrong in protecting a friend, but that doesn't mean you should be as mean to the bully as he is to you."

"But why?"

"Because that's what bullies do. You, Taylor Hebert, are not a bully. If someone is mean to you and your friend, make them stop. But don't be mean. Don't hurt them just because they hurt you."

Taylor pouted. "But-"

"Taylor."

"Fiiiiiine."

For a few minutes, they drove silently home. Spring was coming, and the trees were becoming green again. In a few weeks, they could head to the nearby beaches, which would be fun.

"I like the cloud colors," Taylor piped up.

"You mean white?" Annette asked.

"No, the other colors. The swirly things and the stripey things," Taylor replied, manner-of-factly. "I also like the dots on the flowers."

Danny exchanged a glance with his wife, who returned the favor. No words needed to be said; the message was clear enough.

We need to talk.

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Years later, in the middle of yet another summer night, he woke to the sound of Taylor screaming.

He was out of bed and in her room before he even realized it, a baseball bat clenched tightly in one fist. Taylor was sitting upright in bed, hands clamped over her ears. He was relieved, if only a little, when he saw no intruders in the room. Dropping the bat on the floor, he sat down on the foot of the bed.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I-it's Mom," Taylor sobbed, pulling at her hair. "I h-heard her car hit something, a-and glass breaking..."

"Shhh," Danny said. "It's just a bad dream, Taylor. Mom's fine. It's just a late shift, that's all."

"I wasn't s-sleeping," came the choked reply. "I was listening around, and... and... oh god! I can't hear her anymore, Daddy! I can't hear her heart!"

"You're just stressed out," Danny tried to assure, ignoring the cold knot forming in his stomach. "That's all."

Taylor looked at him, tears rimming her inhumanly blue eyes.

"Dad," she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What's wrong with me?"

Danny sighed, if only to try and calm himself. "If I show you something, will you stop worrying about Mom? Something to help you?"

Taylor nodded.

Getting on his feet, Danny guided her down into the basement. Rummaging through a corner of the room, he pulled out a large cardboard box and placed it on the ground in front of Taylor, then opened it up. Even after years of being kept in dingy conditions, it had never lost its shine.

"What... what is it?"

"It's what we found you in," Danny replied. "You were in the water, just bobbing in this thing."

Taylor ran a hand over the smooth metal of the rocket. "F-found? You're not saying..."

"It's the only thing that makes sense. I took it to an old tinker friend of mine, and he told me that there wasn't anything like it in the world."

Taylor looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I-I'm not... I'm not your daughter?"

"You are my daughter," Danny said, pulling her into his arms. "I don't give a damn where you came from. Mom and I raised you ever since you were a baby; you're our daughter. You're Taylor Hebert."

Letting go, he pulled the canister from the box. "This was also with you. I tried unscrewing this, but it won't budge. I think it's meant for you, and you only."

As Taylor took the canister into her hands, Danny unfurled the blanket, letting her see the bright yellow 'S' on it. She took it as well, running her hands over the strange fabric it was made out of.

"You understand, now?" Danny asked, his voice soft. "That's why you're different. But that doesn't mean you heard... what you heard. It could be anything, Taylor, anything but that."

Taylor sniffed. "Okay."

Danny forced a smile. "Go back to bed, kiddo. Get some shut-eye."

She did as told, heading back up the steps with the canister and cape in her hands. Danny watched her go, then followed after her. He didn't go back to bed, however; instead, he sat down in the living room.

When the call arrived, thirty minutes later, he broke his glasses.

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The funeral was a small affair. Some friends and family were present on that cold winter morning when a cedar coffin was lowered into the earth, and a prayer uttered. Annette always liked Revelation 21:6, but the words seemed to ring hollow as Danny stared at where she would forever be buried. The weather wasn't fitting for such a day. The sun was up, with nary a cloud in the blue sky; it was as though nature decided to mock his - their - loss.

Eventually, the sparse crowd began to disperse, heading to their cars and taxis, until only he and Taylor remained. A cold wind blew by, and he pulled down his wool cap to try and stay warm. Taylor didn't seem to even notice it.

"It isn't fair," she said, her voice hoarse. "It just isn't."

Danny put a hand on her shoulder. "You're right; it isn't fair at all. It isn't fair that she died, when there are horrible people still alive, or all the other bad things going on. The world isn't fair, Taylor, but that doesn't mean we should let it bring us down. She wouldn't want us to."

"I f-feel like I could've done something," Taylor choked, looking down at her hands. "That I could've.."

"Don't think about that," Danny cut off, squeezing firmly, tears welling in his own eyes. "What happened, happened. Don't let it eat away at you, Taylor."

"I'm here for a reason, aren't I? M-Mom always said that if you were good at something, then you should help people with it. Maybe... maybe that's why I'm like this, Dad."

"Maybe. But we can't focus on a word like 'maybe'."

He took a deep breath. "Is there anything you want to say to her, before we go? Something you don't want me to hear?"

A nod.

"I'll get the car warmed up."

Danny squeezed her shoulder one last time, then began to walk away. Sparing his daughter a glance, he saw her look down at a pair of glasses in her hand. Annette's old glasses, before her eyesight got worse.

Her lips moved, silently, then she slipped the glasses on.

---

You have been reading:
The Girl of Tomorrow, Prologue: From Another World​

 

August 2010

"I'm not liking this," I said, looking down the side street.

Emma glanced my way. "It's just a shortcut, Taylor. C'mon, we'll be fine."

I sighed, then adjusted my glasses. "Alright. But let's go quick, okay? This place gives me the creeps."

"Sure thing," Emma replied casually, walking in front of me.

Sighing again, I followed after her. It was hot out, hotter than usual, and silent. Though the sun was still out, shining brightly, I could see dark clouds in the distance. It would rain soon, and I didn't want to be caught outside when that happened.

Anyone with common sense would be inside already, fanning themselves and putting their feet in icy water while the air conditioner blared at maximum, but Emma and I seemed to be lacking in that department. We had decided to walk to see a movie early in the morning, when it was cooler, and that decision had come back to bite us.

Well, it came back to bite Emma, really; I didn't mind the heat at all. Or the cold winters, anymore. I used to feel the burning heat, and the cold, and scraped knees and all the other unpleasant sensations, but they slowly faded away as I got older. I couldn't remember the last time I felt tired, or even really hungry. Whoever I was, whatever I was, made sure of that.

I still didn't really know who I was. At least, not yet. I did some research into parahumans, looking for an answer, but I found nothing. I even took an anatomy book to a mirror and looked at the inside of my own head, just to be sure. It definitely wasn't normal, what I saw, but it wasn't something that matched with what was known about parahumans.

In a world full of strange things, I was still an oddity.

"Taylor?" Emma asked.

"Hmmm?" I turned to look at my friend, taking note of the infrared blooms across her face as her body tried to cool itself down.

"I asked if you liked the movie?"

"Yeah," I replied.

I didn't actually, but I didn't feel like talking about why. With eyes like mine, that could see x-rays scatter on the magnetic field, or a bacterium split, a lot of movies were ruined for me. Music wasn't ruined, thankfully; there was a difference between the unknown sounds of the world and the melodies we made.

"I liked it too," Emma said, wiping her face. "God, it's hot out. Why the hell aren't you sweating?"

I shrugged. "Good genes?"

"Seriously?" Emma giggled. "You look like a vampire with how pale you are. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sunburned this summer."

"I've been lucky. But let's not press it; I think we should hurry up before it rains."

Thankfully, Emma seemed to agree. We broke out into a light trot; I made sure to keep my pace with her and not race ahead. As we made it down to the end of the street, however, I became of a sound I didn't notice before- heartbeats. A half-dozen of them, coming around from each corner. My eyes shifted, and I could see the two groups approach through the walls.

My blood ran cold when I realized they had the colors of the ABB.

"Emma-" I began.

It was too late. They stepped into our path, feet apart and ready for a scuffle. I couldn't smell gunpowder, which was a relief, but I could see the knives hidden in their belts and pockets. One of them slipped on a pair of brass knuckles behind his back, while another one brandished a large chain. Behind me, I could hear more heartbeats, and I realized that we were surrounded.

Emma took a step back when she saw them, then glanced back at me. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and I could smell the adrenaline coming off her skin. She was afraid, very much so.

"Taylor?" she mouthed.

"Wallets and phones," one of the thugs growled, taking a step forward. He was no older than me, but his face was already aged from heavy drug abuse.

"Okay, okay," I said quickly, reaching into my pockets. "Emma, don't try anything stupid. Please."

Reluctantly, she set down her purse on the ground, quickly stepping away. I put my wallet and phone down next to it, and sidled next to Emma. The thug stepped forward and scooped our stuff up, a smug grin on his face.

"Thank you very much," he said. "Now, boys, which one do we want?"

A cold pit formed in my stomach when I realized that they weren't just here for a simple mugging. I glanced at Emma, and I could hear her pulse pounding when the realization hit her, too.

"The brunette's nice," a goon said, licking his lips. "I like curly hair."

"Yeah, but she's flatter than day-old soda," another retorted. "The redhead, though. She's got 'em firm ones, and a pretty face, too. Nobody's gonna mourn a rich bitch like her."

I could hear murmurs of agreement amongst the other ABB thugs at that. Emma gripped my wrist like a vise, a look of terror on her face as she stared at me. I stared back, almost studying her, and my resolve hardened. I couldn't let that happen to her. I wouldn't.

"We agreed, then?" the seeming leader said. "Alright, then. Come here, red. Don't make this tougher than it has ta be."

"No," I said. My voice was soft, but hard and even as I spoke.

The leader blinked in surprise, then gave me a bored look. "I ain't asking ya, no-tits. Donny, get this bimbo out of the way, rough her up a little."

I could hear footsteps behind me, and turned to see a large thug take hold of my arm. His nails dug into my skin, and he jerked roughly, only to grunt in surprise when I didn't budge. He pulled harder, but with the same result.

"Move it, bitch," he snarled.

I looked at him, calmly wrapping my hand around his wrist as I did so.

Then, I squeezed.

There was a hideous sound of cracking bone, and the thug screamed in pain as I shattered his wrist. He fell to his knees, trying to pull free, and I punched him square in the jaw. I could feel teeth knock loose with the impact, and he crumpled to the ground with a wet sound, more teeth snapping like chalk. A glance told me he was still alive, albeit in rough shape.

There was a brief pause as the other goons stared at their fallen comrade, and I took a step forward. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles popping, and I tightened my jaw as I glared at them.

"Get her!" the leader shouted.

As soon as they began to move forward, I sprung into action. Dashing forward, I caught another one of the thugs with a punch across the jaw, then tossed him at one of his friends. They collapsed into a heap, groaning weakly, and I hopped over them to catch another goon in a tackle. Hoisting him over my head, I tossed him at a bunch of trash cans, a snap filling the air as his leg broke with the impact.

Hearing metal scrape against leather, I turned in time for a thug to bring down a kukri on my throat. His eyes widened, however, when the blade snapped against my skin, and I rewarded his efforts with a kick to the stomach. He stumbled back, emptying the contents of his stomach, and I casually swept out his legs before moving on.

As if a switched had been turned on, the thugs began to flee, like a herd of cattle that had been spooked. They ran in all directions, some of them tripping over their own fallen, and I watched until they were a good distance away before turning to check on Emma. She was unharmed, thankfully, and she sidled close with wide eyes.

I could still hear an extra heartbeat, and I turned to see that the leader was still there, frozen to the spot. Emma's purse was clutched in his hands, as well as my wallet and phone.

"Hand our stuff back," I said to him, trying to keep my tone even. I could feel myself growing angrier, knowing what could've happened to Emma.

The ABB goon simply stared at me, his mouth agape. His heart pounded against his ribs, and a pool of warm liquid had now formed around his shoes. I crinkled my nose as the acrid scent of urine wafted by my nostrils; the bastard had actually pissed himself.

I had enough. I took a step forward, and the thug tossed our stuff back in a panic. He bolted around the corner, and I made sure he was far enough away before letting out a sigh of relief. Kneeling down, I grabbed my stuff and picked up Emma's purse. I handed it back to here, taking note of how her heartbeat was returning to normal; she was calming down, thankfully.

"What..." Emma licked her lips before continuing. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," I replied shakily, my voice soft. "I don't know."

I looked down at my hands, and felt a pang of nausea when I realized they were covered in blood. It was warm and sticky to the touch, and I wanted it off.

"I'll walk you home," I said, swallowing dryly. "Okay?"

Emma nodded. "Okay."

---

S​

---

It was a short walk to Emma's house. Her parents weren't home, but her sister was, thankfully. I stayed on the sidewalk, hiding my bloody hands behind my back as Emma headed inside. She spared me a glance, then shut the door.
​

Once I was sure no one was looking, I ran.

I sprinted down the street, sharply turning around the corner and dashing towards my own home. The summer rain finally came down, whipping against my face as I ran, washing away the drying blood from my hands.

I was back home before I knew it. The rain was still coming down, and I knew I should've felt at least a little cold as I stepped across the lawn and up onto the porch. Dad was still at work, but I knew where to find the emergency key.

My hands shook as I worked the lock.

Stepping inside, I ran up to the shower, discarding my clothes as I went. Immediately, I went for the bar of soap, and scrubbed my hands until I was working with a thin sliver. Blood flowed down the drain, and I made sure to wash that away, too.

Changing into loose sleeping clothes, I walked into my room and plopped down on the bed. The rain pattered against the windows, like nature's own drums, and I could feel myself calming down as I listened to it. For a while after Mom died, when I couldn't sleep during the middle of the night, I'd lull myself to sleep with the sounds of the world.

Sitting up, I began to look back on the events of just a half hour ago, brushing away the filter of panic. I saved Emma and myself, and I didn't kill anyone. That was good; it meant that there wouldn't be anything coming back to bite me. But how did I do it?

My hands traced where the kukri had broken against my throat. I never knew I was that tough, or that strong. It made a bit of sense, in retrospect, but that still left a lot of questions.

I needed answers.

Rising from the bed, I softly padded over to a bureau stand and pulled the bottom drawer open. Pulling a shoebox out, I set it down on the bed and opened it up. The canister was still there, along with the red cape. Removing them, I absentmindedly put the box aside, and sat back down.
Picking up the canister, I gave it another good look. There was an 'S' engraved on the cap, just like on the cape, and I gripped it tightly. Taking a deep breath, I turned it one way, straining my muscles. When that didn't work, I tried the other way, using my left hand just in case.

There was a brief moment where the cap didn't budge, then it suddenly gave, a low hiss escaping the canister as I unscrewed it. Turning it upside down, a silver tube fell out, along with something that looked like a long crystal. I blinked in surprise, staring at them, then picked up the crystal.

As soon as I did, something happened.

I was no longer in my room, or even the house. Instead, I was suddenly standing in a broad field, surrounded by long red grass that swayed gently in the breeze. The sky was blue, but a different tinge than before, and there seemed to be an almost red tint in it. Turning, I saw that the sun was setting, but it was not the sun I knew. Bigger, much bigger, and redder.

I also saw something else. A domed building of some sort, one that appeared to be made of the same material as the canister. The style wasn't like anything I had seen before; it seemed almost like a blend of a countless others, but in its own unique way. A stony path led up to an open door, and I noticed that the place didn't have glass in its windows.

For the first time in memory, I began to sweat.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up the path. It was quiet, very quiet, and I realized that my senses had somehow become dulled. It was a strange sensation, and I hoped it would pass.

Stepping through the arched doorway, I saw that there was only one room in the building. A man was in the middle of it, working on something, and my breath caught when I saw that it was the rocket Dad had found me in.

"Hello?" I called.

The man didn't answer. Licking my lips, I stepped closer, still wary. Light shone down from the top of the dome, and I noted that it was actually an open ceiling. Thin blue clouds drifted overhead, bringing with them a cool breeze.

"Hello," the man said.

Jumping in my skin, I turned to face him. He was tall, and with a powerful build. His hair was jet black, kept in a neat trim, and I could've sworn he had a spit curl. For clothing, he had a black body glove and a red robe over it, the 'S' symbol splayed on his chest. Bright blue eyes stared into my own as the man smiled kindly at me, and my breath caught.

They were just like my own.

"Who?" I began.

"This is a prerecorded message, with only some variables allowed by the data crystal," the man said. "I know you must have questions, and I hope you'll get your answers. The fact that you have the strength to open the canister, as well as the necessary genetic profile, shows that you will understand what I tell you."

He straightened. "My name, young one, is Kal-El. This world is called Krypton, and it is my birthplace. It is also yours."

Krypton, I thought to myself, eyes widening. I'm an alien.

"Our world is not so different from Earth," Kal-El continued. "We are, however, much older. We have long since conquered disease and strife and suffering, but there are things even we cannot stop. Our sun, Rao, is dying; in some time, it will consume Krypton. Our governing body has decreed that we shall die with our world, for reasons I cannot explain yet."

Pausing, he gestured to the rocket. "I disagreed with their ruling. This rocket shall, or rather, has, transported you to Earth, keeping you in stasis. Within it, aside from you, is the entire body of knowledge of Krypton. Based on the telemetry this data crystal has gathered, you have lain in the rocket for more than 57 of the Earth's long years. When you were discovered by a human couple, part of their DNA was utilized in altering your appearance as to blend in. In effect, you have two sets of parents; there are your Earth parents, whomever they may be, and your Kryptonian parents- Lani Lo-Is and I."

He - Kal-El - was my birth father? Objectively, I knew it made sense, but at the same time... it was too unreal.

"The name we gave you," Kal-El said, "was Zara Kal-El. Lani is, sadly, dead; one of many earthquakes caused by Rao claimed her life. But you mustn't dwell on her, or on me; you are as much a child of Earth as you are of Krypton, Zara. I sent you to Earth, so that you could do what any good father wants: live, and be happy. But there are other reasons as well, Zara."

What could that be? I found myself thinking. There was a tightness in my chest, like I could barely breathe.

"I wish for the Earth to avoid the same pitfalls Krypton made, and to weather what is to come. There is much strife on their - your - world; that much I know. But they have the same capacity for good that Krypton has fulfilled, and you could help bring them to that, Zara."

Kal-El stepped forward, still smiling warmly. "You have already noticed that you are different from the other humans. Stronger, faster, free from the diseases and ailments that tarnish their enjoyment of life. The light of Earth's sun is what grants you these powers, due to its effect on your Kryptonian biology. You will only grow stronger in time, much stronger, but to reach your full potential, you will need to push your limits, Zara. I send you, one last daughter of Krypton, to carry on the legacy of my world, and ensure the future of another."

The building faded away, along with the fields of red grass and the massive sun, and I found myself back in my room. The rain had stopped, and sunlight was shining once more through my window.

I looked back down at the crystal in my hand, then at the cape, neatly folded on my bed.

Some things, Dad told me, didn't happen for a reason. But as I stared at the cape, I knew that there was an incredible reason for why I was here. The sole survivor of an alien world, sent to live, but also to help the world.

Mom always told me, before the day I lost her forever, that if I had a gift, I should use it to help others. And that was what I was going to do.

 

Of course, I couldn't get ahead of myself; I needed to think things through. Way too many novice heroes died because they just decided to jump right into the thick of it, and the idea of my corpse being plastered over the news was not an appealing one.

Setting down the crystal, I picked up the second thing that was in the canister, the thin silver tube. Studying it closely, I realized that it was a scroll of some kind, using a thin metal instead of paper. A Kryptonian variant of microfilm, maybe?

Carefully unfurling it, I narrowed my eyes, peering closer until I could see things on the microscopic level. Sure enough, there was something printed on the metal, and written in English. Kal-El must have done a lot of research before sending me here; his English was better than most of the people I knew. Of course, that still begged the question of why it wasn't written in other languages; did he somehow know where I would get found?

Settling down further, I began to read. The sheer amount of information Kal-El had put about Krypton was staggering, like he had crammed several libraries' worth of encyclopedias into the scroll. There was even an extensive table of contents, in order to help me better navigate the long history of the planet, along with countless images of buildings and important figures. History, mythology, technology; there wasn't a single subject left untouched, and I was taking it all in.

I didn't realize how long I had been reading the scroll until I heard Dad pull up into the driveway. Glancing outside, I saw that the sun was low on the horizon, casting a beautiful hue. It was already close to nighttime, which meant that I had been reading for hours. Looking back to the scroll, I saw that I had barely covered a fraction of it, which just hammered home just how much information there was.

Rising from the bed, I hurriedly put the cape and canister back into the shoebox, then grabbed the crystal. I took a deep breath, then opened the door and calmly went down the stairs.

Dad looked up at me as he opened the door. "How'd your day go, kiddo?"

"Oh," I said. "U, it, uh, went okay..."

"Taylor, I'm your father; I can tell when something's up. Are you alright?"

I sighed. "I'm fine. Emma and I just had a scare. Some ABB thugs came up and tried to mug us."

Dad froze. "What?"

"We're both fine," I stressed. "I scared them off; they didn't hurt us."

"Doesn't mean I'm not concerned," Dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you really okay, Taylor? You could've gotten hurt during all that."

"I don't think so, Dad. It's I wanted to actually talk to you about."

I held up the crystal for him to see. "I managed to get the canister open, and it had this inside. I finally know where I'm from, Dad."

Dad froze, eyes fixed on the crystal in my hand. "What is it?"

"Just touch it," I replied. "You'll see what I mean."

Reluctantly, he held out his hand. I put the crystal in his palm, and immediately I could sense that the neural message was playing for him. A few moments passed, then he blinked. Looking at me, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. The neuron activity in his brain was spiking as he tried to process what he just learned, and I noted that he was beginning to sweat.

"Wow," he finally breathed.

"I know," I said, taking the crystal back. "It's just so... fantastic. It all makes sense, now. I'm like this for a reason, Dad. I'm here for a reason."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, slumping down into his favorite armchair. "It's just... knowing that all at once, after so many years in the dark..."

"It doesn't really change things, though," I offered, stepping forward to give him a hug. "I'm still your kid, Dad; nothing's going to change that."

He smiled at that. "I'm glad to see you're happy, kiddo. How about we get takeout to celebrate finding out?"

I smiled back. "That sounds good."

---

S​

---

Later that night, after I had gone back up to my room, I decided to read more of the scroll. Dad expressed some curiosity when I told him about it, but decided it wasn't worth it to have me read it aloud to him. Considering just how much there was, I could understand his angle.

As I unfurled it again, I decided to switch up my reading a little. When I first started, I was so excited that I just read as much as possible, without skipping any sections. But there was a table of contents that covered all the topics and subtopics the scroll contained; something told me that Kal-El had intended for me to use it, just like I would if I was reading an encyclopedia. So, I decided to do some selective reading, to see just what kind of things he had put down.

I decided to go with some history first. It was fascinating, seeing how they had gone from something uncannily similar to Earth, with its own fair share of strife, to a species that prospered for millions of years. The wonders they accomplished seemed almost like something out of an old pulp-novel, stuff that almost everybody nowadays decried as silly pipe dreams.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

Reluctantly, I put the scroll down and grabbed for my clunky old cell. Flipping it open, I leaned back against the headboard and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Taylor?" a voice asked. Emma's to be exact.

I sat up again. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm feeling a bit better, after all that... you know," she replied. "I don't think I got to say thanks for bailing me out like that."

"You don't have to," I said. "It's what friends do for each other."

"That means a lot, Tay. So... do you have powers now or what? I decided to look it up after you pounded those dudes into hamburger meat."

"I guess? Maybe? It was all so confusing; I was so caught up in what happened that I didn't really give it a thought."

"That does sound like something a new pairhuman would say," Emma offered. "I looked up what some pairhumans said in interviews and stuff, and they kinda said what you said."

"I guess that's the case, then. And it's 'parahuman', Emma."

"That's how you pronounce it?" she said, surprised. "Shit; I think I've been saying it wrong for my entire life."

I chuckled. "Remember when I kept on pronouncing chameleon funny?"

Emma giggled at that. "Yeah, that was funny. Anyway, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. "Like, am I going to be a hero?"

"Yeah, that does sound like a cool idea. You could join the Wards and fight crime with big heroes and stuff."

"I'm a bit hesitant about that," I said. "I mean, that does sound like a good idea, but I don't think I'd want to handle all that teen drama. Besides, they don't get to actually fight crime that much."

"Oooooh. Going to wage a one-girl war on the dark, evil, dark underbelly of the evil dark criminal underworld?"

"I don't think you used 'dark' or 'evil' enough," I replied, giggling.

"You think?" Emma asked. "Anyway, I think we should hang out tomorrow and talk more about it. That sound good?"

I smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me. How about Fugly Bob's at noon?"

"Kay. See you there, Tay."

The phone went dead, and I snapped it shut. Putting it back on the bedside table, I went back to reading the scroll. As I did, one of the sub-topics caught my eye.

The House of El, it was titled. And, right beneath it, was the same symbol on my cape.

Feeling more than a little anxious, I began to read.

The House of El, apparently, was one of the oldest on Krypton, with a history that stretched back to their ancient times. Many famous historical figures shared that bloodline, most of them scientists. Mon-El, the pioneer of nanotechnology. Ilo Bar-El, who designed the transporter disc and revolutionized transportation for the entire world. Countless innovators and inventors, whose efforts raised Krypton to greatness.

There were, however, more than a few famous warriors among their ranks.

An image showed an illustration of a man, wearing armor not too unlike a medieval knight's, with a long red cape. In one hand, he carried a long sword that was awash with flame, while in the other he held up some strange creature's head, triumphantly displaying it for all to see.

Vor-El, the caption read. A mythological hero of old, who slew a beast that had been terrorizing a village for many years. There are analogues between him and the Earth legend of Hercules, which are elaborated on in the sections that deal in mythology.

I noticed that on his breastplate, painted in red and yellow, was the 'S' sigil of the House of El. According to the scroll, it was one of the oldest symbols on their world, one that stood for hope.

Hope. That was a rare commodity these days, considering all the awful stuff that was going on. Every day there seemed to be a news article about mass murders or terrorist attacks caused by capes, and that was just around here. The rest of the world was even more messed up, with Europe coming to a crumble and China becoming a xenophobic dictatorship, with warlords fighting over the scraps.

And, every four months, an Endbringer would chose to make on of those places even more hellish. People tried to stay optimistic about it, but we all knew the world was slowly coming to an end. Scion was the greatest single force for good on the planet, and even he couldn't turn the tide against what was happening.

What if I could?

I studied the image of Vor-El standing proudly on the horizon, how the light gleamed off the emblem etched into his breastplate. He was more than the legendary hero the text described him as; he was a symbol of hope, that even when things were at their worst, they could still see a better day. Kal-El had said I would grow even stronger than I already was, and that the only way to find out how much was to push my limits. Just how powerful could I eventually become, under the light of the sun?

I glanced at my drawer, and peered through until I could see the cape inside. For the briefest of moments, I imagined myself in Vor-El's place, bearing hope on my chest as I fought for a better day.

That gave me an idea.

I rose from my bed and fetched a notebook from the closet. There was a pen on the bedside table, and I grabbed it as I sat back down. The night was still young, and it had been nearly a year since I felt the need to sleep.

Uncapping the pen, I began to draw.

 

The weather was a bit cooler than yesterday, and people were heading out as a result. The jostle of people moving through Fugly Bob's made me uncomfortable as I walked inside with Emma; I didn't like the idea of someone eavesdropping in on my conversation. Considering just how preoccupied everyone was with some soccer game, though, I decided that it was a small risk.

After making our orders, we took one of the booths by the windows, where we could get a nice view. Sunlight filtered in, sending a trill of warmth up my spine as I sat down, and I could see the heatwaves billowing off the water from where I sat. With my senses, I don't think I could ever find a sight boring.

"So," I began. "What do you want to start with?"

Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see... how much do you know?"

"About my-" I paused, then lowered my voice. "About my powers?"

"Yeah. So, you're definitely super strong, but do you have anything else?"

It suddenly struck me that, despite being friends for years, I had never opened up to her about anything regarding my nature. I didn't feel it was right, back then, but things were different, now. There was no more hiding secrets from her, and it felt cathartic.

"I can see more things," I replied. "Like, I can see x-rays and infrared and all that. I think I can see the entire spectrum of light, and I can look at microscopic things. My hearing's also a lot better. See that man sitting three booths behind me?"

Emma glanced over. "Yeah."

"He's been a smoker for at least twenty years. Started young, too. I can hear the beating of his heart, and the rasping of his lungs every time he takes a breath. He seems to be quitting, since I can't smell a lot of tobacco on him, but it's done its damage."

"Cooooool," Emma said. "So, you can see people naked? That must be freaky."

I shrugged. "Happened on accident a few times, but I have a good lid on it."

"Anything else? Or is that it?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I mean, I feel like I can do more, but I'm afraid to test it."

"Sounds like you need to find a place to test."

The waiter came with our orders. Emma had gotten a chicken sandwich with a small soda, while I had ordered a salad. A cursory glance told me that it was clean, though the dressing was loaded with preservatives.

"Man, I forgot just how greasy this place is," Emma remarked, looking down at her meal. "This thing looks like a delicious heart attack on a bun."

"It's close, and the food's cheap," I said, taking a bite of my salad. "Besides, it's not like we come here everyday, right?"

Emma chuckled. "I think we'd both be six feet under if we did."

She took a tentative bite of her sandwich, then put it down. "Anyway, we need to think of a place where you can test your powers and train."

"When did you become a cape groupie?" I asked.

"Since last night," Emma replied, sipping her soda. "Did you know that Armsmaster has his brand on toy halberds?"

"I did. And does the Graveyard sound like a good idea to, well, train?"

"It's a bit obvious. I mean, a lot of capes in the past went there to train, so now people have their eye on it. Besides, I heard that the E88 is near there."

I chewed my salad thoughtfully. "There might be a place we could head to. Near where my dad works at the Docks, there's an abandoned scrapyard. Not a lot of people walk by it, since it's kinda spooky looking, which would be good for keeping it secret."

"How long a walk is it?" Emma asked. "It's still pretty hot out."

"It's a bit far, but it's closer to the beach. The sea breeze could help you cool on the way."

"Count me in, then."

I smiled. "Let's finish up and head over there."

---

S​

---

"Ugh," Emma groaned, a hand on her chest. "I think the food's already clogging my arteries."

"Your heart's pretty healthy, actually," I said absentmindedly as I walked beside her. "Still could use some more exercise and less candy, though."

"Puh-lease, like you're one to talk. You look like a sick vampire."

"Considering that I have honest-to-god superpowers, I can safely say that I'm in good shape." I stopped, then pointed ahead. "Anyway, this is it."

Emma turned to look at the entrance to the scrapyard, which simply consisted of rusty chain-link fences and a gate. Beyond it, I could see the piles of scrap metal and assorted garbage that would serve to help hide us from any prying eyes, already becoming overgrown with vegetation. There weren't any large animals nearby; they had the sense to avoid it.

"I'm glad I got my tetanus shots," Emma murmured. "Are we sure we should head in?"

"You could stay outside if you want," I offered. "Besides, it's better here than a place close to Neo Nazi supervillains."

"Okay, but don't get too far out of sight. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Alright, then," I said.

With that, I walked to the gate, Emma trailing behind me. There was a heavy-duty padlock on it, secured in place with thick chains, and I decided that it would make for a good first test of my strength. Taking it in one hand, I squeezed until I heard metal groan, then ripped it free with a sharp click as the chains broke.

"Jesus," I heard Emma mutter. "I'd need huge bolt cutters for that."

"And that didn't feel too hard," I murmured.

Opening my hand, I saw that the body of the lock had actually bent around my fingers, as though it was made of putty. Judging by the weight, as well as its composition, it was most likely some high-grade steel, which testified to how much force I had exerted to warp it like that.

Casually discarding it, I opened the gate and stepped inside. There was a thick sheet of metal close by, and I decided to walk over and see if I could lift it. Taking one of the edges in my hands, I hoisted it neatly into the air, as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. To my surprise, the metal didn't warp under its own weight, nor did it cause me to sink into the ground. Flexing, I began to tear it up with ease, lumping the pieces together until I had something the size of a basketball.

"Toss it!" Emma shouted behind me.

I decided to oblige. Adjusting my grip, I threw the lump of metal like an oversized softball. Though my form was clumsy, I still managed to hurl it a good hundred feet, where it promptly smashed through a pile of scrap. Hunks of metal flew out from the point of impact, creating an unpleasant cacophony, and I winced as I considered just how much noise it was making.

"Maybe we should, uh, call it for a day," I said.

"Sounds good," Emma swiftly agreed. "My house?"

"Your house."

---

S​

---

Thankfully, Emma's parents and sister were out, which meant that we could talk without fear of being overheard. We decided to head to the living room, where I promptly plopped down on the couch and began surfing through the channels. According to the news, they were doing a ten-year anniversary report of the Green Dragon's first appearance.
​

"Ya know, you're going to need a costume," Emma commented, sitting down beside me.

"Well, I've been thinking about some designs," I said, leaning back into the living room couch.

"Sweet. Can I see them?"

I obliged, pulling out the notebook from my backpack. Flipping it open, I handed them over to Emma. She studied the illustrations closely, running a hand over them, then glanced back up.

"What's with the 'S'?" she asked. "You have it on every drawing."

"It's not actually an 'S'," I replied. "It's an ancient symbol that represents the ideal of hope; I read about it somewhere not too long ago."

Hey, it wasn't a lie.

"Well, it looks like an 'S' to me," Emma said. "Looks pretty good otherwise, though you need to come up with a mask."

"I've been trying, but it's harder than I thought. I don't want to look threatening or criminal, and it needs to be easy to wear, practical. Domino masks probably won't cut it, and anything else would draw attention."

"How about goggles? My sister has some in the garage, back when she tried that biker phase."

It did actually sound good, the more I thought about it. I had no idea how well my eyes would hold up to the wind when I was moving. Sure, it probably wouldn't do much, but pilots used to protect their eyes for a reason. And, the goggles would be big enough to conceal at least part of my face, while avoiding a threatening appearance.

"Can I see them?" I asked.

"Sure," Emma replied.

She got up and walked out of the room. I peered through the walls, watching as she went into her sister's room and opened a drawer. She came back quickly, goggles in hand, and dropped them on my lap. Picking them up, I ran my thumb along the thick straps.

"They look like something the Red Baron would wear," I said.

"But they're pretty cool, huh?"

"Let's see how I look, first."

Taking off my glasses, I slid the goggles on. Securing the strap, I glanced back at Emma.

"Well?" I asked. "How do I look?"

"If you weren't my best friend, I'd probably have trouble recognizing you. God, your eyes look really blue without the glasses, you know? Like, not normal blue, either."

"Thanks?"

Emma chuckled. "I meant that as compliment. Anyway, let's look some more at your ideas. I'm really liking that simple one."

"Sure thing."

---

S​

---

Dad was still at work when I came home. The E88 was hampering business even more so than usual, which meant that he needed to work overtime in order to pay the bills. It was tough work, and I could sense just how stressful it was on him.

Hopefully, I'd be able to change that.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that I had a few hours to myself, so I decided to gather the materials in order to start the costume. I grabbed a pair of old work boots from the closet, then brought them up to my room, along with the goggles. Depositing them on the bed, I then headed over to Dad's room to see what else I could grab.

As it turned out, there was a lot of material to work with. There were a few white shirts that had never been taken out of the closet, as well as some unused cloth. Mom used to sew, and we never bothered to get rid of her old kit. There was also an old handbook she used to reference, and I decided to speed-read it before grabbing the kit and walking back to my room.

Now that I had the materials, I began to work.

I was luck to have some spare shirts around; there were more than a few mistakes on the way. My hands were steady, though, and already they were moving fluidly as I began to carefully stitch cloth together. I spent a lot of work on the emblem, carefully sizing it and reproducing the exact shape that was on my cape, then began to attach it to my shirt.

Eventually, Dad came home, and I hid the half-finished costume under the bed. He was in a better mood than usual, thankfully, and we spent some time watching TV after dinner. After a while, he decided to tuck in for the night.

Once I could hear him snoring, I resumed work, and finished within the hour.

I sat on the bed, taking in my handiwork. It wasn't the best costume ever, but it was certainly good for a homemade one. Combined with the cape, and I could see it looking good when I took it out.

Of course, that'd have to wait. There was no telling just what my limits were, and what else I could do. Emma and I had just barely scratched the surface with the whole thing; I'd need to practice more if I wanted to be ready for the streets, and that could take-

"Help!"

My train of thought came to a screeching halt as the cry reached my ears. It was fairly close by, judging by how attenuated it sounded, and I realized that it must have been coming from a few blocks down.

Turning to the source, I narrowed my eyes, peering through the brick and wood of obscuring buildings, and saw it. A girl, even younger than me, surrounded by a trio of men that towered over her. They all had knives in their hands, and I could even smell the testosterone wafting off them. The girl's heart was pounding against her ribcage like a jackhammer, and the look of terror on her face reminded me of the fear Emma had when we were attacked.

Well, so much for taking things slow.

There was no way I was just going to sit by and let them hurt her. Even if someone called the police, it would probably be too late, and the neighborhood was a fairly empty one. The only hope she had at the moment was me.

Rising to my feet, I took off my glasses, gently laying them on the counter. Then, I began to put on my costume.

The jeans came first, then I slid on the work boots. I pulled the white shirt with the emblem on it next, hastily straightening it, then removed my hairpins. Normally, I kept my long hair in a ponytail, but I let it shake free to better hide my face as I fastened the goggles on. Finally, I put on the cape, draping it over my shoulders and securing it.

All of that took a second. It took less time to open the window and hop out, shutting it on the way down. I landed on my front lawn in a crouch, then straightened. Taking a deep breath, I began to run towards where I had seen the girl.

This looks like a job for- I thought to myself, only to realize I still hadn't picked out a name yet. Eh, fuck it.

 

I was amazed by my own speed as I ran, the ground whirling beneath my feet as I threatened to break the sound barrier. In the span of mere seconds, I was already arriving at the scene, ready to fight.

The thugs had forced the girl into a corner, leering looks on their faces as they shouted slurs and obscenities at her. She tried to move to the side, only for one of them to move in close and make a kissing face at her. They drew in around the girl like a net, brandishing their knives to show the power they held over her, their own hearts pounding with excitement. The whole thing sickened me to the core, and I found myself thinking of what could have happened to Emma if it weren't for me.

There was something rewarding in the thug's eyes when they saw me barge into sight.

I skidded to a halt, putting myself between them and the girl. They reflexively backed away, adrenaline rushing through their veins as the fight-or-flight response kicked in. Their grips on their knives tightened, and I could see that they were gearing for a fight. Taking a moment to study them, I saw that they all had swastika tattoos in various places on their bodies; it seemed that they were E88 goons.

"Leave her alone," I said, lowering my voice. The intention was to sound older, but I couldn't help but cringe inwardly.

The seeming leader of the trio frowned. "Defending a nigger? Get the fuck outta my sight, little bitch, and maybe I won't call someone in to tear ya skinny ass a new one."

They definitely belonged to the Empire, if they were threatening to bring in more. The E88 was the single largest gang in Brockton Bay, with over a dozen capes, and led by the infamous Highfather himself. If it weren't for Lung and his own gang, as well as the local Protectorate and other heroes, they'd be running the city. Even then, they were a force to be reckoned with, and it'd be bad luck to get their attention on my first night out.

I took a step forward, fists clenched. "That wasn't a request. You can still walk away from this, or you can wake up in the hospital."

One of the thugs seemed ready to take the offer; he even took a step back before the leader shot him a glare. Behind me, I heard the girl slowly shuffle away, trying to stay hidden.

"Get her," the leader growled.

All three of them ran at me, and I sprung into action. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as I shot forward, catching the leader in the gut with an uppercut. I had to be careful not to hit too hard, otherwise I'd end up punching right through him, but I could tell that it hurt. He stumbled back from me, his movements sluggish to my eyes, and collapsed to the ground.

The other two didn't have time to react before I took them down as well. I caught one in the jaw, knocking him out cold, then swung him in the direction of the other. They collided with painful force, then fell in a tangle of limbs, the conscious one groaning weakly. He briefly struggled to get free, then stopped when he saw me walk over. One swift kick to the chin, and he was also down for the count.

Now that they were taken care of, I turned to look at the girl. She was shorter than me, with dark skin and hair, and dressed in rather gaudy looking clothing. Though her heart rate was still elevated, I saw that she was calming down. Sweat trickled down her face; nights were hot and muggy during the summer.

"You okay?" I asked.

The girl nodded, wiping a hand over her brow. "Y-yeah. Yeah. Thanks for, uh, helping me out."

"No problem. Do you have a cell phone? We need to call the police to load these guys up."

"Sorry," the girl replied, patting her pockets. "Don't have one. I think there's a payphone nearby, though, and I have some change."

"Go to it, and call the cops," I said.

The girl nodded. "Okay."

She turned to go, then looked back at me. "Who are you, anyway? A new cape?"

"I'm-" I began, only to pause. I still hadn't figured out what my cape name was going to be.

"I'm here to help," I finally replied.

"Then what's with the 'S' on your chest?"

I sighed. "It's not an 'S'. It's means hope."

"Alrighty then, 'here to help'. I'll go make the call," the girl said, jogging down the alleyway.

I watched her turn the corner, then continued to watch her through the walls as she went to the payphone. Satisfied that she was calling the cops, I turned to look for something to secure the thugs with-

-and became aware of another heartbeat coming down the alleyway.

Looking up, I saw a man approaching, a strong gust of wind preceding him. He was shirtless, showing off a muscular physique, and a wore a white tiger mask made out of wood. Peering through it, I saw that his face was pieced and covered in tattoos, many of them obscene, and there was a hard look in his steel grey eyes as he glared at me. Stormtiger, one of the mid-level capes in the E88.

Of course I had the luck to encounter him on my first night out.

"Thought I smelled something strange," he growled. "You made a mistake coming onto this turf, bitch."

That was all he said before he raised his hands and attacked, air currents swirling about his hands as he channeled his power. A strong gust of wind bowled into me, nearly knocking me over, and I had to fight to keep my balance. Stormtiger pressed forward, the gale growing even stronger, and the unconscious thugs began to roll towards me. I needed to act, and fast.

Tensing, I crossed my arms in front of my face, then sprung forward, the asphalt actually cracking beneath my feet. Stormtiger's eyes widened before I collided with him, and the wind stopped as I caught him in a tackle and brought him down hard on the ground. He tried to grapple with me, but I ignored the attempt as I struck him across the face with enough force to crack his mask in two. Stormtiger fell limp, and I stood up, dusting myself off.

He had some chains hooked into his pants as part of his costume; I used that to tie him up. Propping him up against the alley wall, along with the other E88 thugs, I then headed around the corner. The girl was still there, making the call; the fight must have been very short indeed.

"What?" she mouthed.

"PRT," I said. "Stormtiger's unconscious and hog-tied back there."

The girl's eyes widened, then she relayed what she heard into the receiver. Already I could hear sirens approaching, too faint for the human ear to pick up yet. Turning to the source, I could see the police cars approaching, still a while away, and I suddenly felt exposed with only a pair of goggles on. Sure, the chance of them identifying me was small, but the less they saw of me, the better.

"Gotta run," I told the girl. "They'll be here any minute; just stay by the phone."

She nodded, but said nothing else.

I shot her a smile. "Stay safe, okay?"

With that, I bounded away.

---

S​

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With a soft thud, I landed back on my lawn. Dad was still asleep, his heartbeat steady and even, and I made sure not to wake him as I hopped up to my window. It wasn't locked, thankfully, and I slowly swung it open as I prepared to slip back inside.

Suddenly, I paused.

Why was I heading back in, after less than a half hour out? The adrenaline rush from my altercation with Stormtiger was beginning to wear off, and I could think about the fight more clearly. Sure, fighting a cape on your first night out was a big thing, but I won without even taking a scratch. It'd be more understandable if I was battered and bruised, too exhausted to continue, but I felt like I could go all night.

Glancing up, I saw that the moon was only beginning to rise above the horizon. If I focused my vision enough, I could even see the Apollo landing sites; that was a fun way of keeping sleepless nights occupied. It also told me that the night was still young, and I could hedge a bet that Dad wouldn't notice if I was gone for a few more hours.

Expanding my hearing, I listened in for signs of trouble. Even at night, the city was still bustling, almost a living thing in its own right. People would be heading out to watch movies or eat late dinners... and the criminal elements would be more free to engage in business.

There. A car accident closer downtown; it seemed that the driver smashed into a fence. Focusing my vision, I saw that his face was bloodied, his nose broken.

With a soft click, I shut the window, and hopped back down. Taking a deep breath, I sprinted down the street, heading for the scene of the accident. Flexing my legs, I jumped into the air, clearing a block in a single bound, and kept on going.

The night was still young, and there was still a lot of work to do.

 

"-first appearance was in Leviathan's attack on the small English settlement of Hereford, in 1998. Though a small population, its destruction would have brought chaos to the surrounding areas and endangered millions. Local parahumans were caught off guard by the sudden assault, and many feared that the city would be lost before more heroes could arrive to drive the Endbringer off."

"Then, to everyone's surprise, it came."

"Eyewitness accounts of the battle vary, but most believe that it managed to grapple Leviathan to a standstill, distracting it until reinforcements could arrive, then slinked away in the aftermath. Those who saw the creature called it the Green Dragon of Mordiford, after a beast from local folklore, and praised its arrival. Casualties were the lowest yet, and Hereford recovered with remarkable speed."

"The creature would appear in other battles. Madrid. Shanghai. Seattle. It never showed for fights against Behemoth, and only twice against the Simurgh, but it never failed to show for a battle against the Leviathan, and its monstrous strength is always welcomed. Many have started to calling the creature the 'anti-Endbringer', a title mired in controversy. No one knows the nature of the beast, with many suspecting that it used to be a parahuman whose power went rampant. Regardless, however, many are glad for its presence-"

The phone rang, and Director Jones turned the TV off. The special didn't seem that interesting, anyway; the Howard documentary was a far superior account.

Sighing, he grabbed his cellphone and answered the call.

"Jones here."

"Director, this is Armsmaster," a terse voice replied. "We have Stormtiger in captivity as we speak."

He sat up in his chair. "Is he secured?"

"We have him in one of the holding cells. I believe there is some information that needs to be discussed on base, sir, regarding his capture."

"I'm on my way. Call the others to the meeting room as well; I want them there by the end of the hour."

"Understood, sir."

Jones hung up, then rose to his feet. Stretching, he grabbed his ID card and headed for the door. Briefly glancing in the mirror to make sure he looked respectable, he stepped outside and locked the door behind him. His apartment was on the first floor, which made for a short walk down the stairs and into the lot.

His rusty old car still managed to bring him to the PRT headquarters, though it didn't go without complaint. He often considered just selling it and buying a new one, but he never went through with it; there was a great deal of sentimental value to the bucket.

After being allowed to pass by an older woman at the gate, he rolled up into his reserved parking spot and headed inside.

You could criticize Armsmaster's people skills all you wanted, but the man was punctual. The others were already in the meeting room, waiting for him. Miss Militia, Velocity, and Dauntless were seated, while Armsmaster stood by a projector.

Jones frowned. "Assault and Battery on their off-shift?"

"They'll receive the briefings when they come in tomorrow morning, Director," Armsmaster replied. "In the meantime, we have important information regarding Stormtiger's capture."

The projector whirred to life, showing an image of an alleyway. A quartet of men were propped against the wall, their heads drooped forward as PRT officers moved in on them. They appeared to be bound by chains, and they all were extensively covered in cuts and bruises. One of them was shirtless, a broken mask in his lap.

"This is how we found them, Director," Armsmaster continued. "Miss Militia and I were on the scene first, along with a squad of PRT troopers. Stormtiger is the one on the far left, while the others are low-level thugs in the Empire's employ."

"What are we looking at, here?" Jones inquired. "A scuffle with the ABB?"

"Apparently not," Miss Militia replied. "There was an eyewitness at the scene. A Ms. Aisha Laborn, age 13. According to her, the three men on the right had cornered her while she was walking home, throwing racial slurs and threatening sexual violence."

Jones gritted his teeth. "Typical Empire gangbangers. I take it they're in custody?"

"The police took care of them once we had Stormtiger."

"Have them brought here; they might have important information about the Empire's activities. Anyway, continue on with your statement."

Miss Militia cleared her throat. "If Ms. Laborn is to be believed, then she was rescued by a new cape, one we haven't seen before. A girl, to be exact. One of our sketch artists produced this after speaking with the witness."

The slide changed, showing an illustration of the cape in question. She looked young, maybe fourteen or fifteen at the most, but was certainly tall for her age. Her costume was clearly homemade, consisting mainly of jeans and a white t-shirt with a sigil on it. A long red cape flowed behind her, and she wore a pair of aviator goggles that were partially hidden by her long black hair.

Jones stepped forward and tapped the sigil. "What's with the 'S'?"

"It's not an 'S', according to Ms. Laborn," Miss Militia replied. "She managed to actually speak with the cape in question, after the thugs were handled with. Apparently, it is meant to represent hope."

"I believe that is due to a research error," another voice said.

Jones turned to the speaker on the table. "Didn't know you were listening in, Dragon."

"Armsmaster consulted with me about the sigil before you arrived, since his own research wasn't producing results," the tinker replied. "I've scanned as many databases as I have access to, but none of them show a symbol like that as one of hope. In fact, that symbol doesn't exist in any database."

"Interesting," Jones murmured, his brow furrowed. "Well, that's not important at the moment, anyway. What are we looking at here, power-wise?"

"A brute, most likely," Armsmaster said. "Mid level, maybe higher. Based on Ms. Laborn's account, she appeared before the goons had any chance to react, then beat them to a pulp in moments. Based on the bruising and broken bones, there was a considerable force behind those blows. The fact that she also took down Stormtiger is testament to her strength as well."

"Flight capabilities?"

"Yet to be determined. She apparently jumped out of sight, but we can't tell if it's genuine flight or just enhanced leaping."

"A potential Alexandria package, then," Jones said. "Definitely a tough one."

"She's also in considerable risk," Armsmaster added. "The E88 won't take this lying down; they've been especially touchy since Lung killed Cricket last month. It would be in her best interests if she were to join the Wards."

"Considering how she bounded out of there, I'm not sure if she's keen on that," Dauntless said. "Some kids want to take it solo when they're first out on the streets. Not saying that I approve, but we can't be too... pushy."

"Good point," Jones said. "She'd definitely make for a powerhouse if she joins; let's see if she decides to come to us first."

"What of the rival gangs?" Armsmaster inquired. "The ABB might try to recruit her; Ms. Laborn didn't specify her ethnicity. If we wait for too long, then it might be too late."

"Or she might just join in with one of the independent hero groups," Jones offered. "You raise a good point, though. I wonder if the Wards themselves would be willing to try and talk to her, if they ever see her. She'd probably relate to them better, and they'd explain the benefits better than us."

"That does sound like a good idea," Miss Militia said. "Of course, I think they should only do it if they volunteer; the situation might turn dangerous for unknown reasons, and I don't want to press-gang them into anything."

"She doesn't seem like a dangerous sort," Jones said. "Still, I agree with your point."

"What name are we giving her, anyway?" Velocity asked. "If she's going to be in our reports, she needs a codename."

"Well, the cape hasn't come up with one for herself, if Ms. Laborn is to be believed," Armsmaster said. "I think we should go with a placeholder name; she can change it if she joins the Wards."

"How about Samaritan?" Dauntless offered. "Goes with the weird 'S' symbol."

Jones shook his head. "That's taken by a Mover in LA, I believe."

"I think we could wait until she comes up with a name for herself," Miss Militia said. "Most capes don't like being given names."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jones declared. "In the meantime, keep an eye out for her."

"It'd be nice if we got some more info, first," Dauntless piped up. "I wonder what she's doing right now?"

---

S​

---

"C'mon, Sebastian, come down," Alicia whined, reaching out from the window. "It's dark out, and Mom says I can't go outside."

The black longhair looked at her from his perch on a nearby tree branch, and mewed in retort. Settling down, he began to clean himself, as if in open defiance of his owner's request.

The little girl blinked back the tears that threatened to well in her eyes. "Please? Pretty please?"

"Hold on!" another voice exclaimed, from beneath the window. "Don't worry, I'll get him!"

Before Alicia could figure out what was happening, an older girl hopped up onto the tree branch. Her eyes widened when she saw the red cape on the girl's shoulders, and her breath caught as the realization hit her. A superhero had come to rescue Sebastian!

"Don't be scared," the hero said, balancing on the branch as she reached out to grab Sebastian. "C'mon, c'cmon."

Finally, she managed to pick up the kitten, much to his protest, and handed him back to Alicia. The little girl grabbed Sebastian and pressed him close to her chest, ignoring his pleading mewls.

"Thanks Miss Superhero Lady," Alicia said excitedly.

The hero smiled. "Be careful next time you open your window, okay? Longhairs aren't outdoor cats."

"Okay. Please don't tell my mommy."

"Alright, I won't," the hero replied, chuckling. "Now, get to bed; it's late out."

Before Alicia could reply, the caped lady dropped out of sight. She peered over the window ledge, but saw nothing; the hero had already left. Sighing, she stepped back and closed the window, pouting.

"Let's get you ready for bed, Sebastian," she said, hugging the kitten close.

Sebastian merely groaned in reply.

---

S​

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Topic: Stormtiger Apprehended by New Cape
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes

derpritter (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

Link is here. Apparently, Stormtiger and three thugs got their butts handed to them by some new hero in a homemade costume.

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accelpoeration (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Something tells me the Empire's pretty salty at the moment.​

marcobsalazarm (Veteran Member) (Costume Fanatic)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Any comment on what the costume looked like? I'm pretty curious to see what a new cape would come up with on her first night out.​

derpritter (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Apparently she had a red cape and a white shirt with a sigil on it. All the report said.​

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

It's not everyday you hear about a new cape in the city. What kind of powers are we looking at?​

IrregularAK (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Mid level brute, I think. She might be an Alexandria Package, but no one's confirmed it yet. She was tough enough to beat up Stormtiger, that's for sure.​

derpritter (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

She definitely seems like an independent hero, but is that going to stick? Anyone think she's going to join the Wards?​

Orex Lock (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

She's that young? Anyway, it'd be cool to have an independent hero for once. Or maybe she could join the New Wave?​

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

The team already has Glory Girl as a bruiser, but I don't think they'd mind another. Of course, I think the Wards would be much safer; the Empire's not going to take the loss of one of their bigger guns lying down. They already lost a cape to Lung last month, and it looks like things might explode soon.​

fuccboi34 (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

This comment was deleted due to racism and inflammatory remarks. Enjoy your one-month ban. -Tin Mother.​

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Really? Really?! Clears throat. I hope this new cape stays safe; she definitely seems like a good one.​

(End of Page) (1)

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Topic: Rumors of Ward Transfer?
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes

accelpoeration (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

Has anyone else heard about it? Since they only have four Wards in BB, they might move one in to help with numbers.

(Showing Page 1 of 3)

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (They Guy in the Know)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

I've been reading about it for a few days. Yeah, I think it might also be a bit of PR move on their behalf. Word at the watering hole is that they might move in a Case 53 to help people acclimate to them.​

Sounds like a good idea, honestly.​

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Who's on the roster, anyway?"​

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Gallant, Vista, Clockblocker, and Triumph. Triumph's graduating to the Protectorate at the end of the month, around the same time Director Jones is retiring.​

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

I'm pretty sure I heard something about a tinker also milling about that the PRT wants on the Wards, along with that brute who took down Stormtiger.​

Oh, and the Director is retiring? I always liked the jokes he made in PSA's about capes.​

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

They might not join, for all we know, and the PRT definitely wants a replacement for Triumph. Based on previous leadership reports, they might bring in that Weld guy.​

And yeah, Jones is out at the end of the month. Apparently they're bringing in Deputy Director Piggot from Boston.​

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Neat. And what was that meme about Weld again?​

saltyshinji (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

This comment has been deleted for inflammatory remarks. Case 53s are people, too. Enjoy your one month ban. -Tin Mother.​

accelpoeration (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Pretty sure that isn't it.​

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

FIRST I FIGHT THEM​

THEN I BARIUM.​

I'M JUST A TIN COPPER WITH A HEART OF GOLD.​

I could keep going, guys.​

accelpoeration (Veteran Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Please don't.​

(End of Page) (1, 2, 3)

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Topic: New Cape Saves Man in Car Crash
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes

soulcookie (New Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:

EXTRA EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT HERE.

(Showing Page 1 of 1)

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Well, she's definitely a hero, then. And strong, too.​

accelpoeration (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

We need to name her, stat!​

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Pretty sure the PRT's going to do that soon. Anyway, it's nice to see someone help people for a change instead of beating up other capes.​

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Didn't you post on the thread about her beating up Stormtiger?​

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Details.​

Reveen The Disappearer (New Member)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

She also got my neighbor's cat out of a tree!​

soulcookie (New Member) (Original Poster)
Posted on August 23rd, 2010:​

Pics or it didn't happen.​

(End of Page) (1)

 

The sun was still below the horizon when I finally returned home. It had been a long night, that was for sure. Aside from handling Stormtiger, I had stopped a mugging, saved a man from a car accident, and gotten that little girl's cat out of a tree. I should've felt exhausted, like Dad did after a shift at the Docks, but I didn't. In fact, I felt even livelier, as though I was finally letting loose after so many years of tension.

Hopping up to my window, I crept inside and took off my costume. The cape went first, and I stowed it back in the shoebox. I frowned when I looked at the shirt; the bottom half had been shredded to tatters without my noticing. Strangely enough, the parts that were more skintight had gotten off without a scratch; it had to be a side effect of my powers.

Sighing, I threw the shirt into the trash, making sure that it was out of sight. I could just make another one, and I'd be sure to use a tighter fabric to avoid it getting torn. Maybe I could go for a different color as well, one that complemented the cape and sigil better. Blue could work...

Pulling off my goggles, I grabbed my glasses where I'd left them and put them back on. With a final effect of tying back my hair, I was myself once again.

Once I was sure that all Connor Sanctioned Information of my night out was hidden away, I plopped down and began to read more of the microfilm Kal-El had sent with me. Only a few minutes passed, however, before I thought back to the rocket. It was still down in the basement, and I found myself wondering what else was inside. There was no way the microfilm had everything there was to know about Krypton; even its absurd amount of information was trivial to what the internet put out.

Silently, I rose from the bed and began to quietly tiptoe down the stairs. It was easy to find the rocket when I got down to the basement, and I pulled it out of its hiding spot. Opening the box had stuffed it in, I noticed that the hull was completely seamless, as though the hatch was never there. I narrowed my eyes, trying to peer through it, but it only became a little translucent, like murky water.

Reaching out, I brushed a hand over the smooth metal of the rocket, and it reacted.

It almost blossomed like a flower, peeling back the thick hull to reveal complicated-looking hardware underneath. In the center was a black cube, no bigger than a softball. Each side had a triplet of glowing green circles, connected by thin lines to form an inverted triangle. As soon as I saw it, it began to let out a low, steady hum, as though it was finally coming to life after years of disuse.

"Greetings, Zara Kal-El," the box said.

I blinked a few times, as if doing so would banish the strange sight. The strange cube still persisted, however, and I knew I wasn't dreaming. I took a deep breath, then spoke.

"What are you?"

"I am a semi-sentient computer program, sent along with you to Earth," the cube replied. Its voice was clipped and curt, but not quite mechanical. "In a manner of speaking, I am a subroutine of my original back on Krypton, known as Brainiac."

"You're an AI?" I asked.

"That would imply a degree of sentience that I lack, despite the use of pronouns," 'Brainiac' said. "The original Brainiac was sentient; here, I serve as a data repository with an advanced chatbot buffer. My computing prowess, however, is still orders of magnitude higher than anything produced on your new home planet. My central processing unit is an artificial nerve cluster more complex than human tissue; altogether, it can store forty-five trillion yottabytes of information."

"That's-" I paused, doing the calculation in my head. "That's twenty-two sextillion times the amount of information in the entire Library of Congress."

"Correct. I hold all the knowledge that Krypton ever produced. All the books, the films, the blueprints and historical documents, the artwork, the scientific observations; I am the total repository of two hundred thousand years of Kryptonian civilization, as well as the knowledge of four hundred thousand catalogued planets."

It took more than a few moments for that to settle in. I thought the microfilm was astonishing, but twenty-two sextillion Library of Congresses worth of information was an amount that numbed the mind. I couldn't even begin to imagine how long it'd take for someone to review all of that information, even if they had superhuman processing abilities.

"Okay," I finally said. "Uh, why did you reveal yourself just now?"

"A number of reasons," Brainiac replied. "Firstly, telemetry from the data crystal informed me that you already know of your Kryptonian origins, which means you are prepared to learn more of your former home planet. Secondly, you have the proper genetic profile to access the ship; it is slaved to your conscious command. And thirdly, there are no humans around to witness this; it is up to you to decide whether or not to reveal this information to the world."

I nodded slowly. "Alright, then. I think I can handle this. Tell me, can you make yourself hidden? I don't want you to get discovered."

"Naturally. I can disguise myself from the spectrum humans can see; this will allow you to access me without difficulty, yet avoid detection at the same time. Do you desire such a course of action?"

"Yes."

Something shifted, and the rocket's color became slightly different. It didn't make much difference for me, but I had to remember just how few colors I could see at first, growing up.

"What other courses of action do you desire, Zara Kal-El?"

"Well, first, you can call me Taylor."

"That is the name you were given on Earth, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Very well. What other courses of action do you desire, Taylor?"

"Just stay hidden for a while," I replied. "This is a lot to think over."

"Understood."

Getting up, I headed back upstairs, leaving Brainiac behind. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, sending a tingle up my arm, and I let it soak in for a moment. The sound of creaking bedsprings reached my ears as I did, and I knew Dad was starting to wake up. Smiling, I decided to make him breakfast.

After all, I was in a pretty good mood, so why couldn't I share it with him?

---

S​

---

​

By the time Dad had gotten downstairs, I had made him a nice plate of pancakes. A wide grin broke out on his face when he saw them, and I could see his salivary glands working into overdrive as the smell wafted over his nostrils.

"You're even more chipper than usual," he said, sitting down at the table. "Good night's sleep?"

I shrugged, pouring myself tea. "Read a nice story on the microfilm. It's... it's weird to know so much, but in a good way. I mean, I don't know how to really describe it."

I didn't like lying to him, but I figured I'd tell him sooner than later. Telling him everything at once would be overwhelming; I needed to give hints and ease him into it.

"You know, I've been talking to some education officials, and you might be able to get into Arcadia," Dad said between bites of pancake. "You certainly have the grades for it."

"That sounds great," I said, smiling. "Emma said she might get in as well; it'd be cool if we managed to go together."

"Speaking of, are you going to hang out with her today? I need you to do some shopping while I'm out at work."

"What do we need?" I asked.

"Oh, just some groceries. Eggs, milk, meat; money's still a bit thin since the pay cut, so we might need to budget a bit more."

I glanced down at my tea, watching the infrared light blooming off it, then looked back up. "I could just get you food."

"Taylor-"

"I don't need to eat, Dad; I just like to. If money's tight, then it'd be a good idea if I cut down on frivolous stuff like that."

"Do you hear yourself? You're talking about going hungry like it's nothing, kiddo."

"Because it is nothing," I replied. "It's been forever since I last felt hungry, even if by a little. Besides, it'd only be for a while, until we're past this."

Dad sighed. "If you feel like you need to eat, eat. I'm not happy with this, but I know how stubborn you can be when you think you're right. And only skip every other day, okay? Can't believe I'm saying this."

I smiled. "I'll be fine, Dad. Besides, we can use the money for better stuff later, like finally fixing the sink."

Dad glanced over at the sink in question, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Has been a while..."

He sighed again, then got up. "I have to get ready for work, kiddo. I'll leave the list and some money on the counter on the way out; make sure to get it out of the way before you decide to hang out with Emma, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

---

S​

---

​

I waited until Dad had pulled out of the driveway before heading downstairs again. Brainiac was still in the corner of the basement, lights dimmed. To my surprise, it seemed as though the rocket had actually expanded; it was much wider than how I'd left it.

"Are you, uh, renovating?" I asked.

"If you mean, 'am I altering the surroundings?', then the answer is no. I am simply reallocating preexisting material to improve processing power."

I paused. "Can you actually alter your surroundings?"

"Kryptonian nanotechnology has a wide range of functions, Taylor," Brainiac replied. "I can break down materials to the molecular and atomic levels and reconfigure them into other forms. Depending on the material, conversion rates can vary considerably. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you could repair a sink?"

"A simple matter, if you give me permission to analyze the materials composing it. Do I have such permission?"

"Yes," I replied. "Don't make it seem too obvious, though."

"I am unsure of what defines 'obvious' in this case. Do you wish for me to simply configure the sink to its undamaged form?"

"Yeah, that."

"Very well, then. Would you also care for me to redirect the house's power to a fusion generator?"

"Uh, I think we should take it one step at a time, here."

"A human idiom, I presume. Regardless, I shall complete your command."

The rocket suddenly began to levitate, despite there being no visible engine, then flittered up the steps. I followed after it, painfully aware that any one of my neighbors could see an alien spacecraft repair my plumbing. Now that would be an awkward situation to explain...

Thankfully, the task was completed in a matter of moments, and the rocket flew back downstairs. I watched it go, then turned to the sink and cautiously turned the handle. Sure enough, there was no leak.

"Dad and I have been trying to fix this for weeks," I muttered to myself.

I decided to go back down into the basement. The rocket was still widening, the silver metal shifting and changing like putty; I once again found myself in awe of the lost world I had come from.

"What other functions can you perform?" I asked.

"Almost anything you require. I can synthesize materials, or produce laboratory equipment for you to conduct experiments. And, of course, I can provide any information you desire about Krypton."

"Neat," I murmured. "Does that mean you can also synthesize Kryptonian technology?"

"With certain restrictions," Brainiac replied. "For example, you will need to undergo considerable education for anything that could be weaponized; it would be detrimental if you were to accidentally vaporize a city while trying to use a transfer disc."

"Alright, then. Could you wait for a moment?"

Before Brainiac could reply, I returned with my sketchbook. Flipping it open, I presented one of the illustrations to the cube.

"Could you make me a suit out of the same material as my cape? It'd be nice to have something that doesn't tear just because it isn't skintight."

"Very well," Brainiac said. "Would you like any additions to this design? I could incorporate technologies found in many Kryptonian biosuits, though that'd delay completion."

"By how much?"

"It'd take approximately seven Earth days, given the material I have to work with."

"That's okay," I replied, grinning. "I can make do in the meantime."

 

A few days passed by, and the end of summer drew near. I kept up with the hero work at night, and sometimes during the day; I kept my costume hidden underneath my normal clothes when I went outside. Ever since Stormtiger was taken into custody, things had wound down a little in terms of villain activity, but I still found ways to keep myself busy.

On one of those days, I decided to head to the park. Emma was on a trip to New York, which left me with very little to do otherwise. I still wondered whether or not I should tell her the truth about me, that I was actually from another planet. Part of me felt that I couldn't keep secrets from my best friend, but another part was worried how she'd react if she learned the news.

I decided to brush those thoughts away, if only for the time being.

The sun was already high up as I strolled past the park gates, shining brightly. Most people had to avert their eyes from it, or at least wear sunglasses, lest they get irreparable damage from the intensity of its light. Me? I could've stared into it all day without a worry, and it was actually quite tempting. If I focused my vision just right, I could see gamma rays and x-rays stream out from the core, or the turbulence of the photosphere as storms bigger than the entire world formed. I could even hear the vibrations in the corona if I wanted, a steady hum too low for the human ear to detect.

It shouldn't have been possible. There was no medium for the sound to get across; satellites had to convert video of the ripples into audio for people to hear it, and even that was heavily altered. Yet, in defiance of all logic, I could hear the song of the sun as it was meant to be heard, and it was beautiful.

"Excuse me, miss, but are you alright?."

All too soon, I was back to Earth, and I blinked in surprise at the man standing before me. He was tall, taller than me, and had a rather thin frame. His dark skin was weathered and worn, especially around his silvery eyes, and his short hair had a few streaks of grey in it. If I had to guess, I'd say he was in his late fifties and in fairly good shape. His clothes were rather nondescript, and seemed more than a little dated.

"Something wrong?" I asked, fidgeting slightly.

"Just concerned," the man replied. "It's not healthy to look at the sun for too long, young miss."

"Thanks for the concern," I said. "Hey, you look familiar; I think I've seen you on TV before. Are you Director Jones?"

"Former Director; I just retired yesterday," he said, managing a small smile. "Now, I'm just Mr. Jones. And who might you be, young lady? Most people don't recognize me out in public."

"Name's Taylor," I replied. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Jones."

"Likewise," he said, walking past me.

I turned to watch him go, eyes narrowed. There was something off about him, subtly so. He seemed pretty normal, but there were countless little things that just clashed with what I usually saw.

Shrugging, I went on my. I hadn't gotten ten feet, however, before I heard a high-pitched screaming sound behind me, almost painfully loud. Whirling about, I saw Mr. Jones looking at me, a whistle between his teeth. Nearby dogs began to bark at him, while their owners obviously pulled them past us, and I realized he had used a dog whistle to get my attention.

Despite the fact it was eighty degrees out, I felt a chill brush over my spine.

"Don't be alarmed," Jones said, pocketing the whistle. "I just want to talk to you about something."

"How did you-" I began, only for him to silence me with a gesture.

"I know a good path that most people don't walk on, where it's safer to talk. It's your choice, Taylor."

I looked around, then sighed. "Alright."

Jones smiled. "Good. Walk with me."

I did as told, following him along a dirt path that weaved in and out of the trees. He was right; there weren't that many people around, and I found myself relaxing a little bit. Birds chirped as they flew overhead, and I briefly focused the footsteps as ants as they milled about underground unseen.

"So," I began. "How did you guess it was me?"

"That you were the new cape? I was a detective for thirty years before joining the PRT, and a pretty good one. I narrowed down some leads based on the account of the girl you rescued, along with the man you pulled out of that car wreck. It was complete happenstance that I saw you here, and your appearance matched closely with that of the witnesses, so I decided to make a gamble with the dog whistle."

"Why did you have it, anyway?"

"Educated guess," Jones replied. "You were somehow able to detect crimes halfway across the city. Either you had a sense of danger, or you could somehow detect it by hearing or eyesight. I wasn't expecting the whistle to work, but I decided it didn't hurt to try."

A woman jogged by, and we fell silent until she was out of earshot.

"It was pretty risky of you, going out with only a pair of goggles. There's almost an unwritten pact of sorts between heroes and villains, when it comes to finding out about each other's identities. Most don't really try, since it would turn very ugly, but if they think they can get away with it, they'll leap at the opportunity. I've seen that happen a few times in my career, and the results can be haunting."

I frowned. "I'm not afraid of the Empire, if that's what you're saying. And I know you're about to say something about protecting my loved ones, too, right?"

"Didn't need to say it, it seems," Jones said. "So, if you realize the dangers, why just the goggles?"

"It's a bunch of things," I replied, sighing. "I didn't want to look threatening, so that excluded some options, and I didn't want to draw attention by buying materials at a store. I was planning on making something better, but..."

"You heard the thugs threatening Ms. Laborn," Jones finished. "That explains a lot, both in regard to your reasoning and your character. You're a rare type, Taylor. Trust me; I've worked with heroes for ten years, now. There are those in it for fame and fortune, while others joined for personal vendettas against villains. But there are also those who became heroes because they felt it was the right thing to do. I've met a few of those over my career, Legend being most prominent."

"T-thanks," I said, painfully aware that I was blushing. "That's actually really nice of you to say, comparing me to him."

"Don't let it get to your head," Jones chuckled. "Egotism isn't a good trait to have."

His smile disappeared, and I sensed that he was serious again. "You do have to be careful, Taylor. Stormtiger was an impressive catch for a first night out, but there are bigger fish in this pond than him. The E88 has a lot of heavy hitters among their ranks. Kaiser, Purity, Hookwolf, Fenja, Menja, and Allfather himself. They outnumber the local Protectorate by more than two to one. They're vicious, they're tenacious, and they're cruel. I've seen the bodies they leave in their wake when on the warpath, and it sticks with you. Allfather likes to execute minions who've failed him by slowly turning them into pincushions, and that pales to what his son Kaiser does."

We crossed over a small wooden bridge, a creek trickling underneath.

"And that's just the Empire," Jones said. "There is also the ABB. You've probably read up a little on Lung already."

"He gets more powerful the longer he's fighting."

"With no upper limit, to boot. Some speculate that he could go toe to toe with an Endbringer if ramped up enough, and he doesn't get tired. He's not as nasty as Allfather or some of the other Empire capes, but he's even more dangerous in combat. Just last month, he killed Cricket and put Krieg on traction, despite taking on several capes at the same time. He has hundreds of thugs in his employ, and they run criminal enterprises from casinos to drug trafficking to sexual slavery. He also has two capes in the gang as well: Oni Lee and Tengu."

"I remember reading about Lee, but Tengu?"

"Recently recruited," Jones replied. "We have recent to suspect that Tengu's a female, most likely in her twenties. Wears a mask to resemble a creature from Japanese folklore. She seems to have a grab bag of powers; enhanced strength, agility, and a variable blaster power. Armsmaster and Dauntless encountered her while busting a drug house near ABB turf."

We fell silent for a few moments. I glanced at him, reading his expression. He wasn't lying or exaggerating, that was for sure, and I began to feel a little nervous.

"Anything else to worry about?" I asked.

"I'm just giving you a heads up, Taylor; I'm not trying to scare you off." Jones let out a long sigh. "I take it the Wards are not on the table?"

"Personal reasons," I said quickly.

"Alright, just checking. Of course, that doesn't mean you can't help them out, and vice versa. The New Wave are independent heroes, and they often team up with the Protectorate when handling big issues."

"But what's a 'big issue' for me?" I asked. "I feel like... like I'm barely beginning to use my power. Dipping a toe into the water, scratching the surface, whatever phrase you want to use. There's so much more I think I can do, but I'm almost afraid to find out."

"That's certainly interesting," Jones murmured. "Most capes tend to know what they can and can't do, right off the bat."

"Guess I'm not like most capes," I said.

Jones frowned, his brow furrowed, but said nothing else.

We came around the halfway point, and began to walk back the way we came. The sun was bearing down even hotter than before, and most of the park goers were leaving for air-conditioning. I didn't mind the heat, and it seemed that Jones didn't, either. Sure, he sweated, but his skin temperature was still rather even.

"Any sagely advice to offer?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Some," he replied. "You're doing good work, Taylor, but you still need to be careful. Tensions are getting bad between the ABB and E88, and things might explode very soon. Don't be afraid to get help if you need it."

He pulled a card from his pocket, and handed it to me. I took it, noting that it wasn't the PRT number.

"You're becoming a PI?"

"Less stressful than being a Director, and it still lets me do some good in the city. I still have connections with the PRT and Protectorate; I could act as mediator if you ever need help, and I could always provide some badly-needed tact for you."

"Thanks," I said, pocketing the card.

We arrived where we had started. Jones glanced at his watch, then smiled at me.

"I have to go," he said. "First customer. Good luck, Taylor."

"Something tells me I'll need it."

He turned to leave, then paused. "Almost forgot. Your codename, decided by the PRT? They're calling you 'Supergirl'."

"Supergirl?" I asked, exasperated. "Really?"

"It's just a placeholder name. If you want, I could probably get them to change it to Superwoman, make it more mature sounding."

"Please do. I can't believe they gave me that name."

"Alright, then. Until next time."

With that, Jones headed for the gate. I watched him go, then began the long walk back home.

Sorry about the delay; there was a formatting issue I've been having with this site. To make up for it, I'm posting all of the chapters so far.

 

Another night passed, in which I stopped two more muggings and an attempted break in. The E88 and ABB seemed to be keeping their activities quiet, at least for the time being, and I found myself wondering when it would end. Ex-Director Jones seemed incredibly wary of the whole thing, and I was inclined to believe what he said.

At the same time, I could feel myself growing faster as I zipped about the city with each passing day; sometimes I wondered if my feet were even touching the ground. When Kal-El had said I would only get stronger as I pushed my limits, I didn't expect it to be so fast. I thought it'd be a gradual process, almost in tune with natural development as I got older, not a sharp increase.

I had that in mind when I returned home, silently hopping up to my window. Dad was still sleeping, his heartbeat even, and I knew it'd be another hour or two before he was up. Taking off my costume, I put it back into its hiding spot and sat on my bed, thinking. The moon was up, shining brightly, and it casted a silvery tinge to everything.

Brainiac was still in the basement, working on my costume, and I decided to head down to check up on his progress. The stairs creaked a little as I walked down the steps, and I made a mental note to try and fix that when I had the chance.

The rocket was still splayed open, and I could see that Brainiac had produced a machine of some sort, most likely by reallocating some of the strange material of the hull. Hundreds of tiny spidery arms were moving in a flurry, weaving together tiny threads as they were spat out of the main body of the machine. Taking a closer look, I saw that the thread itself was composed of intricate machinery, like something out of a science fiction novel.

"Returning from another successful jaunt, I presume?" Brainiac inquired.

"Pretty much, yeah," I replied. "How's work on the uniform going?"

"Smoothly. I've acquired material from the soil beneath the house, as well as small metal scrapings that wouldn't be missed."

"How long until the suit's done? You said one week, and it's been longer than that."

"That was before I took full stock of my surroundings. Now, I can include even more Kryptonian technology into the uniform, such as biofeedback sensors and communications, which will entail an extra four days."

"Guess I should've been clearer," I sighed.

"Do you want me to complete the suit without said technologies?" Braniac asked.

"No; you can go ahead with that. Just make sure that it doesn't take any longer than four days."

"Very well."

The machines continued their work, and I headed back upstairs to the kitchen. As I went to head up to my room, however, I paused. The night was still dark, and Dad usually didn't get up until an hour after sunrise. I still had a while to myself, and I decided to get some fresh air while I weighed my options.

Silently, I opened the door and stepped outside. The neighborhood was still quiet, relatively speaking; there was no bustle of people moving around, but the sounds of nature were still there. My senses really made peaceful silences impossible; it's hard to enjoy a silent night when you can hear individual blades of grass rustle in the wind.

I glanced up at the moon. It was no longer full, but the visible spectrum only took up a small chunk of my vision. The Apollo sites were always breathtaking to look at; I always enjoyed looking at the first footprint left by Neil Armstrong. It was faded somewhat, due to the take-off, and one of Aldrin's footprints criss-crossed it, but it was still something to behold.

What would it be like to visit there? To actually walk on the surface of the moon, or swim among the stars. There were so many of them, hundreds of millions of billions of them, and to think of the wonders they could hold. Maybe, due to light-speed lag, I could even see the star that Krypton once circled...

It was around then I realized my feet were no longer touching the ground.

I looked down, and saw that I was floating a few feet over the yard. It was so subtle, I hadn't even felt it; it was like a gentle force was pulling on every atom of my body. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair, but I stayed put, like a rock in a stream. A tingle ran up my spine as I looked around, tears threatening to well in my eyes.

I could fly.

"Oh my god," I breathed. "I can fly. I can fly."

I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Focus. Just zipping off into the sky, however badly I wanted it, wasn't the smart course of action. That could come later, once I figured out how to get down.

Thankfully, it proved easier than I thought. I wanted myself down on the ground, and down I went, gently lowering to the ground. I looked around, making sure no one was looking, then I went up again. It was deceptively easy, once I got the hang of it, but I still made myself give it a few practice runs. I flew around the house, then over it, and finally landed back on the lawn.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I headed back inside, a rush of exhilaration in my veins. I managed to get to my room before the tears began to flow, and I had to stifle an excited squeal as I sat back in bed.

"I can fly," I whispered again. "H-how did I do that?"

Maybe Brainiac had the answer, but that could wait. The sun was finally rising, illuminating the room and banishing the night. Already Dad was stirring; he must've had a good night's rest if he was waking up earlier than usual.

I got up again and went to make breakfast, a huge grin on my face.

S​

It was a shame I had only one last day of summer vacation, but what a day. The weather was fantastic, with only a few puffy clouds in the hazy blue sky, and the sun felt wonderful on my skin as I headed outside. Dad was already at work, and Emma was still on her trip, leaving me with a lot of free time.

I weighed my options for the day. Dad left me a small amount of money for the day, and I considered going to see a movie, or maybe the local zoo. The museum was doing a special at the Planetarium, and it was rather tempting. Sure, I could've just peeked inside from miles away, but where was the fun in that?

As I began to walk down the street, however, I froze at the sound of distant gunfire. Narrowing my eyes, I turned to the source of the noise, peering through until I saw what was going on.

It seemed that there was a scuffle going on near the Docks, between E88 and ABB thugs. There seemed to be a dozen on each side, a handful of them with guns, but there were other figures that drew my attention. Capes, to be exact; the fight was initially bigger than I originally thought, and that couldn't end well.

On the Empire's side, there was a veritable hulk of whirling blades and hooks, bigger than a car. That had to be Hookwolf, one of the major bruisers among their ranks. He appeared to have just arrived on the scene, but was already rushing into the thick of it.

One the ABB side, there was a tall woman covered in thick black clothing, wearing a stylized red mask that seemed almost birdlike. Peering underneath, I saw a rather plain face, most likely of Japanese descent. Tengu, the cape Jones had told me about.

As I looked closer, I saw there were two more capes, hiding behind a dumpster in a nearby ally while E88 thugs took potshots at them. One wore a white costume with light armor built into it, covered in animated clock faces, and I realized he had to be Clockblocker. The other was a teenaged boy that appeared to be made out of metal; aside from a pair of pants, he wore nothing to hide his muscular frame.

There were two Wards caught in the crossfire, and they were in danger. Hookwolf alone had a bodycount longer than my arm, and I had a feeling Tengu was no slouch, either. I thought back to Jones's warning, that I could be rushing into situations too dangerous. Maybe he was right; maybe I would only get hurt if I jumped into this one.

Then, I unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the sigil underneath.

In a flash, I was in my full uniform. Willing it so, I took to the air like a rocket, zipping to the confrontation.

I wasn't going to let my fears get people killed, not when I could do something about it.

S​

Clockblocker and the metal Ward didn't realize I'd landed behind them until I cleared my throat. They turned at once, visibly tense, and I raised my hands defensively.

"Saw you were in trouble, and I decided to help. Do you have a battle plan yet?"

"Not dying is a good one," Clockblocker said.

The metal Ward shot him a look, then turned back to me. "We're waiting for backup from the Protectorate, but they were busy with more turf fights near the Docks. It might be ten minutes before they arrive, so we need to make a move."

"We can make it soon," I said. "The three guys pinning you down just ran out of ammo."

Sure enough, the dumpster stopped ringing with the impact of bullets, and the sound of clicking reached my ears. Hidden behind his mask, Clockblocker's mouth opened, as if to say something, then closed again.

"They're definitely dumber than the ones down in Boston," the metal Ward grunted. "New cape, you're with me. Clock, stay low and follow after us. Freeze anyone who's disabled or disarmed, especially wounded. There's plenty of cover you can freeze as well."

"Right, got it," Clockblocker said.

"Let's go."

The metal Ward darted to the side, coming around the dumpster, and I hopped over at the thugs. I caught one in the chin before he had time to react, then shoved him into another. The second thug tried to disentangle himself from his buddy, only to get a kick to the face for his efforts. Out of the side of my eye, I saw the metal Ward take down the third thug, his arm transformed into a club as he swept the goon's legs out.

"Good job," he said. "More coming up."

"On it," I said.

I sprinted ahead, entering the backlot where the main fight was going on. Four thugs on both sides were down in half as many seconds as I darted back and forth, taking them out with single hits. A bullet clipped me in the shoulder and fell to the ground, crumpled, while a trio ended up sticking to the metal Ward as he dashed into the fray. He wasn't as fast as me, but he could certainly take a hit and dish them out.

In the middle of the scuffle, Hookwolf and Tengu were fighting. The ABB cape had leapt onto a fire escape, her hands suffused with bright blue light, and was taking potshots at her foe. Hookwolf didn't seem to mind them much; each blast took out a few blades or hooks, but they could be easily replaced. Peering closer, I saw that they were coming from a fleshy core in the center. His real body?

Swiping a massive 'paw', Hookwolf took out the fire escape. Tengu jumped to the ground, still firing, and backed away. An E88 thug charged at her, wielding a club, only to be casually backhanded into a nearby wall.

I glanced at the metal Ward. "How do we go about this?"

"I'm not sure about the blaster," he replied. "She might be able to give me a lot of trouble. Hookwolf... not sure how our powers would interact."

"How about we just wing it, then," I said.

Before he could say anything, I went on the move. There was an abandoned car against one of the walls, red with rust, and I hoisted it over my head. It felt light in my hands, surprisingly so, and I decided to use it as a battering ram as I charged. Hookwolf finally took notice of me, only for the car to smash into his side, shattering dozens of blades as he was forced back.

Pulling back, I smashed the car into Hookwolf again, crumpling the entire front half of it. Before I could do it a third time, however, Tengu blasted me. A ball of blue light struck my side, washing over me like water, and detonated in a flash. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to make me let go of the car.

I turned to Tengu, just in time to receive another blast to the chest. I skidded back, heels digging furrows in the asphalt, then charged. Tengu tried to fire again, but I beat her to the punch, catching her in a tackle. She lashed out with a kick to my stomach, forcing me off, and prepared to fire another blast.

That was when the metal Ward shoulder-decked her into the wall, several bricks shaking loose with the impact. Tengu caught him in the chest with another ball of light, but it only served to make his skin a dull orange, infrared flaring from the surface. Switching tactics, she head-butted him, and that was enough to make him break his grip.

I stepped in before she could follow up, however, and decked her across the chin with enough force to break her mask. She skidded back, groaning weakly, and that was that. The metal Ward stepped forward and caught her in plastic cuffs of some kind, then stood up, dusting his hands.

"One down," he said.

There was a crashing sound behind us, and I turned to see that Hookwolf was struggling to get free. Clockblocker had come while we were busy and froze the car, but there were other avenues of escape. Hookwolf scooted out from under the car, sacrificing several of his barbs, then began to scramble over it to get back into the fray.

I wasn't having any of it. Before anyone could react, I flew right at him, knocking him down. He tried to get back up, but I pressed him into the ground, refusing to grant him a moment's reprieve. Taking handfuls of his hooks, I began to furiously pull them out, digging deeper and deeper. Hookwolf tried to grow more, but I was faster. In a matter of seconds, I was already close to the core.

That was when Hookwolf began to change back. His blades and hooks retracted into his core, which was already taking a roughly humanoid form, and I could see some of the larger features of his face returning. In a few seconds, he was human once more, a drained look on his face.

Before he could do anything, whether to run or try and fight again, Clockblocker dashed forward and froze him. It was strange, seeing the time-stop power in effect; there was definitely something weird going on.

The metal Ward walked over, a cellphone in hand and Tengu in the other. There were bits of scrap and junk attached to him, slowly being absorbed into his body, and already his chest had cooled back to normal. With nary a grunt, he dropped the cape by Hookwolf's frozen form, and Clockblocker froze her as well.

"Well, I definitely wasn't expecting this," Clockblocker said, rubbing the back of his head. "Damn."

"Two big names in one fight," I said. "I'd call this a major win."

"I'd agree," the metal guy said. "I'll call Director Piggot and inform her of what happened."

"So, what about you?" Clockblocker asked, gesturing to me. "Piggot wanted you in the Wards, and she's a lot pushier than Jones was. I mean, I'm not pushy; I'm just glad you saved our butts back there."

"No problem," I replied. "Just glad I could help."

"Likewise," the metal Ward smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Weld."

I shook his hand, returning the smile. His skin was cool to the touch, and he had a pretty firm grip. Studying him closely, I saw that he was metal all the way down; his bones, organs, and blood were all made of various alloys and pure elements.

"Haven't seen you around," I said. "Are you new?"

"Just transferred in from Boston two days ago," Weld replied. "Still adjusting to here. Anyway, what should I call you?"

"Apparently, I'm being called Superwoman by the PRT," I said.

"Probably has something to do with the big 'S' on your chest," Clockblocker said.

I sighed. "I've told it a bunch of times, and I'm getting pretty tired explaining. It's not an 'S'. It's a symbol that means 'hope'."

"Then why not put an 'H'?"

"Because that's-" I clicked my jaw shut, seething. "It's not an 'S', and that's final."

"Well, regardless, it's not the worst name," Weld piped up, shooting a look at Clockblocker. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Thanks," I replied, blushing a little.

"Now, I'm not going to push anything, either, but you might want to rethink your mask," Weld said.

"Why's that?"

Sighing, he reached forward and wiped a finger down the bridge of my nose. Holding it up, I saw it was covered in soot.

"Your goggles got burnt off."

"Oh," I said sheepishly, painfully aware that I was blushing. "Well, uh, thanks for that."

Weld chuckled. "No problem. Even if you don't want to join, I hope to work with you again."

"Me too," I said. "Anyway, I, uh, have to go."

"We can handle the rest," Weld said. "Clockblocker can keep them frozen until the PRT arrives."

"Yeah, because I love having to touch a greasy neo-nazi until help arrives," Clockblocker muttered. "See you around, Hopewoman."

"Never going to let up on that, huh?"

"Nope."

Stepping back with a sigh, I took to the air, leaving them below as I began to head back home. Clockblocker half-heartedly waved at me, and Weld offered another smile. Already, I could see PRT vans converging on their position, along with Armsmaster on his motorcycle.

Both big gangs knocked down a peg, and it seemed I made two friends in the Wards. Not a bad way to spend my last day of summer, all things considered.

S​

Later that night, I found myself looking in the mirror.

The goggles wouldn't cut it anymore; I guess they stuck out too much to be protected. I could ask Brainiac to manufacture some more, using Kryptonian materials, but that'd take time away from making the rest of my costume. The delay was bad enough, and I didn't want to exacerbate it.

Besides... I could feel myself getting stronger. Much stronger. Kal-El said my powers would come from the sun, and I found myself wondering if there was a cap to that. If I was so strong after a few days as a cape, what would I be like a year from now? What about when I was an adult? I had just discovered flight; what other powers might I develop?

If the truth ever got out, that I was an alien, the sole survivor of a long-dead super-civilization, then people might be afraid of me. They might see me not as a hero, but a distant alien with god-like powers. I needed them to trust me, to see that I was just here to help.

I looked down at my glasses. They were a memento, more than anything else; a reminder of Mom. They could be more than that, however, if I gave it more thought.

My mask would be what I wore when I wasn't out there.

 

The meeting room was silent when Weld walked inside. It was to be expected, considering that it was eleven at night; most of the other capes were already back home or finishing up their patrol shifts. The only ones at the table were Armsmaster, Clockblocker, and Director Piggot.

Silently, he sat down next to Clockblocker, his specially-reinforced chair creaking beneath his six-hundred pound body. There was a pad of paper waiting for him, along with a custom PRT pen without any metal bits. It was a nice courtesy, especially considering how hard it could be to adjust to a new base.

Piggot looked up from her own notes. "Good to see you've finally arrived, Weld."

"Likewise, ma'am," he replied. "May I ask why you called Clockblocker and I?"

"We're here to review your altercation with Hookwolf and Tengu," Piggot replied.

"Ma'am, Clockblocker was only following orders when I decided to go on the offensive-" Weld began, only to be silenced when Piggot raised a hand.

"Disciplinary action will be discussed later regarding that reckless action. It paid off, but it was a gamble that shouldn't have been made."

Weld nodded. "Understood, ma'am."

Piggot jotted something down in her notes. "Good. Now, we're mainly here to discuss the new cape that helped you and Clockblocker, this so-called 'Superwoman'. We've only had a few good sightings of her; she seems to shy away whenever the PRT or police respond to an issue. Tell me, what was your impression of her?"

"Impression, ma'am?"

"Appearance, personality; those sort of things. It's my job to have information on capes in the city, whether they be hero, villain, or rogue."

"Well, she was rather tall," Weld said, leaning back in his seat. "Taller than Clockblocker, but shorter than me. Pale skin, very pale skin, black hair. She kept it loose, which helped to hide some of her face. Her costume was definitely homemade, but not shabby, either."

"We already got that much about her," Piggot interrupted. "Anything else?"

"Her eyes were bright blue. I'm not talking about normal bright blue, either; they were unnaturally blue, and they definitely weren't contacts. I only noticed after her goggles were burnt off."

"Burnt off?"

"She took a hit from Tengu," Weld replied. "Several, actually."

"I can vouch for that," Clockblocker added. "Before that, Tengu was taking chunks out of Hookwolf, but Superwoman didn't get scratched by the hit."

"Considering what we know about Hookwolf and Tengu, that's quite impressive," Armsmaster murmured. "She seems to be tougher than we originally thought."

"She was fast, too," Weld said. "When she was fighting the non-powered thugs, I could barely register her moving. She could also fly at similar speed."

"Fly? She didn't show such a capability beforehand," Armsmaster said. "Previous accounts said she could only leap large distances."

"She was definitely flying, sir."

"So, she's a flier who can move at high speeds and possesses high levels of strength and endurance," Piggot said. "Strong enough to use a car as a battering ram on Hookwolf, as well as take Tengu out of commission."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure she had other powers, too," added Clockblocker. "When Weld and I were getting pinned down, she was able to tell when the guys were out of ammo. I'm not sure if it was combat precog or just enhanced senses."

"A thinker as well?" Piggot made a furious scribble in her notebook. "Very interesting. Now, what are we looking at in terms of personality?"

"Friendly," Weld replied. "Seemed to be concerned for us, and was willing to help us out. Polite as well."

"Total dork," Clockblocker said. "She's like one of those cheery geeks, except with ridiculous superpowers."

"Did you inquire about her possibly joining the Wards?" Piggot inquired, shooting a small glare at Clockblocker.

"We did, ma'am," Weld said. "She politely declined."

"I see." Piggot shut her notebook and leaned her prodigious bulk forward. "So, we've covered Superwoman. Now, let's get to the issue about your actions in the altercation."

"Shit," Clockblocker muttered.

"Clockblocker and I contacted the Protectorate before doing anything, ma'am," Weld said, shifting in his seat. "We planned on laying low until they arrived, but the E88 noticed us and pinned us down with gunfire."

"They did contact us, Director," said Armsmaster. "It is standard protocol in these situations."

"Yes, and they could've simply waited for you to arrive," Piggot retorted. "Clockblocker, your power has been, so far, inviolable. You could've protected Weld and yourself with ease, yet you both decided to charge into the thick of things."

"They could've had grenades," Clockblocker protested. "There was no way to put a protective roof over Weld and I; any grenade toss would've been like shooting monkeys in a barrel."

"So the solution was to charge into enemy gunfire?"

"That was my decision to make," Weld said. "Besides, Superwoman confirmed that the thugs were out of ammo."

"Superwoman is also an independent; there was no telling if she was trustworthy," Piggot shot back. "Consider yourself lucky she appears to be on the side of law and order."

Weld bowed his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're the leader of the Wards, now that Triumph has graduated. Responsibility is an important part of leadership. Not just for yourself, but for your teammates."

"Understood."

Piggot leaned back in her seat. "I'm docking half your weekly allowance. Clockblocker, I'm docking a quarter."

"Loud and clear," Clockblocker sighed.

"Good." Piggot heaved out of her seat. "I hope you've learned from this, both of you."

With that, she waddled out of the room, Armsmaster following after her. Weld waited until they were out of sight before leaning back into his seat with a hearty sigh.

"Damn, what a drill sergeant," Clockblocker muttered, taking off his helmet. "Why don't you try and cover that lard ass of yours?"

"Was your previous Director that strict?"

"Jones? Nah; he was a cool guy. Some of the older capes said he was a bit soft, but I liked him. Every once in a while, he'd talk to us about how our days were going, and he sounded like he actually cared, you know? He'd probably have punished us the same way, but he wouldn't have come off like a dick, weird as it sounds."

"Never had him as a Director, but I met him before," Weld said. "He was actually part of the PRT team that found me in the junkyard. One of the few who didn't react badly when they saw me shamble forward, all covered in junk. Big speaker for accepting Case 53s, too; I wouldn't be surprised if I'm here because of him."

"If that's the case, doesn't that mean he was only Director for a few years?" Clockblocker asked. "That's weird."

"He told me he had trouble spending too much time in one job. Wanted to try all sorts of new experiences."

"Huh." Clockblocker rose from his seat, stretching. "I'm heading home. See you later."

"Good night, Dennis."

The redhead cape walked out of the room. Weld sighed, then rose to his feet, taking the notepad with him. He made sure not to touch the metal doorframe as he left the meeting room, and began to walk to his quarters. A few PRT officers passed him in the hall; only one of them didn't stare. He was used to it, after so long, but it could weigh down on him at times.

Stepping into his quarters, he deposited the notepad on his desk before sitting down at the computer. Sleep was unknown to him, and he took up the space instead with a large bookcase. Posters of bands and orchestras adorned the walls, and he had a large box of records by the door.

There were a few more hours until his next shift, and he decided to use that time to relax and do some research. Putting on a set of headphones, he began to play some Bach while he began to type on the computer. It was a custom job, with no metal on the casing or keyboard, but he still had to be careful with thumb drives.

He decided to hit PHO first, to see what they had on Superwoman.

S​

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Topic: Hookwolf and Tengu Apprehended in Big Brawl
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Link is here. Looks like two big villains were actually apprehended by two Wards: Clockblocker and newcomer Weld. Apparently the new cape joined in to help, and the PRT has started calling her Superwoman.

(Viewing Page 1 of 1)

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Huh. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Man, Weld is pretty fucking metal, amirite?

marcobsalazarm (Veteran Member) (Costume Fanatic)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

That pun was bad, and you should feel bad.

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Ooooh, the PRT just released their classification on Superwoman! Lemme see here... Brute 7 makes sense, so does Mover 6...

Wait, Thinker 1? How the hell does that work?

accelpoeration (Veteran Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Obviously, the PRT knows something that we don't. To the speculation page!

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Man, Weld's had his first fight in the city, and everyone's just focusing on Superwoman...

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Well, we already know and like Weld. Superwoman's unknown, mysterious...

marcobsalazarm (Veteran Member) (Costume Fanatic)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Hard to be mysterious when she has a giant 'S' on her chest, unless the PRT sketches are inaccurate. What does it even stand for?

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Superwoman, of course

Weld (Verified Cape)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

According to her, it means hope. And that's all I can say without getting in hot water.

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

You grace us with your presence. And thanks for the info, even if my cursory searches pull up no results.

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Shit :0. I didn't mean those metal puns, honestly...

Weld (Verified Cape)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

I didn't zinc so.

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

You... you actually acknowledged the meme. Good to see you have a sense of humor about it.

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

I think we just made PHO history...​

(End of Page)

S​

Topic: Superwoman
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Cape Doings ► Heroes

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2011:

So, I decided to make a thread for discussion about BB's newest hero. Despite only a week on the scene, she's made quite the splash in our little pond. Dozens of crimes and emergencies handled, and three villains in custody due to her. Feel free to post theories and speculation about her powers.

(Showing Page 1 of 1)

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Definitely a high-power Alexandria package, with some other stuff thrown in. The costume's interesting, mainly that weird sigil she has on her chest. I've been looking it up, but found nothing on it. Nada. Zilch. It's like she pulled the whole thing out of thin air.

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Yeah, why is that? I mean, why fake a sigil like that and give it a false meaning? Or is it so obscure, that only the most dedicated historian can find it?

bogan69 (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

This comment has been deleted due to inflammatory remarks. No one has postulated an Islamic origin for the sigil, and insulting the religion will get you nowhere. Enjoy your one month ban - Tin Mother.

soulcookie (New Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Get the hell out of the thread.

Anyway... maybe she's a space alien? /jk.

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

I remember when people used to say that was the case for Scion; thank god that crackpot theory was thrown out. Though, she might have gotten it from Earth Aleph.

Kolonel Klingon (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Really doubt it, considering that Scion's arrival is the divergence point between our Earths. Doesn't rule out an alternate Earth, though; maybe she somehow found another one, more different from ours?

Still have to take Occam's Razor into account, though. I say she pulled it out of thin air.

derpritter (Veteran Member)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

If she did, then why? Makes no sense.

Xero Key (Veteran Member) (Cape Groupie) (Original Poster)
Posted on September 1st, 2010:

Maybe we'll find out, eventually.​

(End of Page)

S​

Looked like they were just as clueless as he was.

Weld frowned. That sigil looked awfully like an 'S', but there were subtle differences in the shape, enough to draw his attention. It had almost reminded him of a coiled serpent, straining to break free of the diamond around it.

Sighing, he signed off the computer and leaned back into his chair, listening deeply to the music. Taste was a phantom of what it should have been, and his metal glands made it hard to enjoy most other sensations, but the impact of music was not diminished. Sometimes, he could spend hours on end playing songs on his headphones; he enjoyed just about any genre, and there was plenty to pick from.

It was only when his alarm beeped that he realized morning had come. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was half-past six. That left him with another fifty-five minutes until school began. According to the memo Piggot had given him two days prior, he would be enrolled at Arcadia full-time; his appearance alone would draw suspicion to the other Wards if he left with them, so the co-op program was out.

Getting up from his seat, he grabbed the nondescript backpack he'd been given and slung it over his shoulder. The zippers were made of plastic, thankfully, and the pack itself was a heavy-duty fabric; they had put a lot of thought into making him comfortable.

Securing the bag, he exited his quarters and made his way down the hall, to the parking lot. There was a car waiting for him, a cheap Saturn meant to avoid attention, and the plastic exterior meant he wouldn't have difficulty opening the door. The driver gave him a small nod as he sat in the back, then pressed the accelerator with a jerk.

It was a long drive, considering that Arcadia was in the suburbs, and he took the time to watch the skyline of the city. Brockton Bay was smaller than Boston, that was for sure, and it felt more... decrepit. A lot of the buildings were abandoned and covered in graffiti, and the docks might as well have been a heap of rust. At the same time, however, there were a few new skyscrapers standing in the downtown area, which reminded him a lot of Boston.

The car finally rolled to a halt, and he realized he was at Arcadia. Nodding at the driver, he stepped out, and the car sped away.

Taking a deep breath, he strolled forward.

Even after two years, he had never fully gotten used to people staring at him. The halls of Arcadia were bustling with students, but they parted around him as he walked to class, like Moses with the Red Sea. Many began to whisper amongst themselves, and a few pointed. It was to be expected, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Finally, he arrived at class. The teacher wasn't in yet, which gave him some time to prepare his notes. There were already a few students seated, chattering amongst themselves, but they fell silent as he sat down at the front. He ignored them and unzipped his backpack, producing the notepad and a pencil. He couldn't even use most notebooks, considering that his hands would stick to the metal of their spiral.

More students piled into the classroom, taking up any seats that weren't immediately next to him. It was probably for the best; he wryly recalled an incident back in Boston, when a girl's bracelet got stuck to his ear when she passed him by. Looking down at his notepad, he began to fill in the date and class; organization was important in school.

"Is this seat taken?"

He looked up. A lanky girl was standing close by, shifting nervously. Her fashion sense was... different, to say the least. She wore a pair of baggy jeans, along with a green sweatshirt two sizes too large, even for her tall frame. Her long and curly black hair was tied into pigtails, and a thick pair of glasses rested on a sharp nose to cover her blue eyes.

Weld blinked. "Uh, the seat's not taken."

"Thanks," the girl said, her voice high-pitched. "Most of the other seats are taken, and this is close to the door."

She sat down, unslinging her backpack. Pulling out her notebook, she accidentally fumbled and dropped it on the floor. Giggling sheepishly, she grabbed it and glanced at Weld.

"Sorry, bit nervous. I'm new here, and my friend couldn't come with me."

"Don't worry," Weld said. "Everyone's nervous on their first day, no exception."

The girl smiled, revealing metal braces. "T-thanks. You must be nervous, too."

Weld shrugged. "I'm mainly just bothered that I have to be here. Most of the kids hear look at me like I came from another planet."

A giggle. "Oh, they're like that with anybody that's even a little different. You should've heard the stuff they said about me; girls can be really nasty."

"You don't seem like it." Weld smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Weld."

After a moment's hesitation, the girl shook it, her grip surprisingly firm.

"I'm Taylor," she said. "Taylor Hebert."

"Nice to meet you, Taylor."

The teacher walked in, and he turned to face the front of the class. Taylor did the same, slouching in her seat. Weld glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking. For some reason, there was something awfully familiar about her, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Something told him he'd figure it out, eventually.

 

Like the other high-schools, Arcadia had lunch for an hour. The students loved it; they had time to go home and eat with their family, or to read and study after quickly finishing their meals. For someone who didn't need to eat, however, and who could complete homework in speeds that would beggar belief, an hour left me with little to do.

It also seemed to leave Weld with virtually nothing to do. As far as I could tell, he didn't eat. Instead, he spent the time listening to music on earphones, his head gently bobbing with the rhythm. Tuning in, I noted he was listening to twenties-era jazz; Duke Ellington, to be exact.

He didn't seem to notice me approaching until my shadow fell over the table. Glancing up, he pulled off the headphones and offered a light smile. Despite his metal form, his features were quite attractive.

"Can I sit with you?" I asked. "I don't know anyone here, and I've gotten a few glares."

"Sure," he replied, putting the headphones back on.

Sitting down, I pulled out a book on learning Mandarin. Even growing up, it was never difficult to learn new things; I managed to master calculus and differentiation before I entered middle-school. Whether it had something to do with my powers, or my nature as an alien, I didn't know.

Flipping the book open, I began to read. A few glances at each word, as well as silently mouthing them to the pronunciation guide, and they were forever etched into my brain. I had often considered just going to the library and reading everything in it, but that'd have drawn unwanted attention. Still, I'd already gotten a handle on a few languages, such as Spanish and Portuguese.

I was about halfway through when I heard Weld say, "Mandarin, huh?"

Shutting the book, I glanced up at him. He'd taken off the headphones and stuffed them back into his bag, and was now studying me intently. It was almost as if he was trying to make sense of the strange girl before him, and I suddenly wondered if he had seen past my disguise.

"G-got curious," I replied. "Opens up a lot of jobs in the city. Medical, business, that kind of stuff."

"I'd tried to learn some new languages, but they never stuck with me," Weld said. "Math and English are where I'm good at. Same goes for parahuman classes."

"Excited for the class they're doing in history next semester?"

"I've already read the subject material. I don't sleep, so I have a lot of spare time to study and listen to music."

He didn't sleep? It made sense, I guess, though even most parahumans still needed to rest. It seemed there was a lot we had in common, more than I originally thought.

"What music do you listen to?" I asked.

"Just about any genre, really. Pop, jazz, classical, rock; if you can name it, I've probably listened to it."

I smiled. "I like most genres, too. I might even know a few you don't."

Weld chuckled. "That'd be the day. I'd like to hear what you listen to, though."

"I don't carry tapes on me, sorry," I replied. "I might be able to bring one tomorrow, though."

"Be my guest," Weld said. "You wouldn't happen to know any good local stores, would you? I'm a fan of vinyl; it doesn't stick to my hands."

"Yeah, I could show you around."

"Thanks, that'd be nice." He paused, then leaned forward. "You know, this is a pleasant surprise."

I furrowed my brow. "What is?"

"A normal conversation. I mean, a conversation about normal stuff, not about work or... you know what I mean. Not once have you said anything about how I look, or about the fact I'm a cape. You've been talking to me like... like I'm normal."

"Well, I just kinda imagined you'd be tired of that," I replied, shrugging. "I didn't want to be rude or anything."

"I appreciate it, Taylor," Weld said. "So, tell me about yourself. Have you lived here long?"

"As long as I can remember. I grew up in the same house, never moving; Brockton Bay's in my blood. What about you?"

"Me?" Weld frowned. "Can't really say much, I guess. In fact, I only remember the past four or five years; that was when I was found."

"Found?" I asked.

"I don't really like to talk about it. I'm a Case 53; it's what they call capes whose power radically changed their body and wiped their mind clean. Woke up in a junkyard with no memory of what happened, or even who I was."

"T-that sounds awful," I said. "You don't remember anything? Your name, where you're from?"

"Nothing. Doesn't really bother me as much as you think; I was taken in and raised well while they tried to figure out what happened. After a few months, I joined the Boston Wards, got good marks. When the higher-ups heard about how bad things were getting in this city, they felt I'd make a good transfer."

The lunch bell rang, and we got up from our seats. Weld slung his backpack over his shoulder and smiled at me.

"It was nice talking to you, Taylor. See you tomorrow, same time?"

I smiled back. "That s-sounds nice. And I'll bring some tapes for you."

Weld chuckled. "Sounds good."

Brushing past me, he strolled to his class. I watched him go, then let out a sigh of relief. Despite talking to him for nearly an hour, he hadn't seen through the disguise. I wondered how much it had to do with the fact that people only saw what they wanted to see, and how much had to do with the effectiveness of the actual disguise.

I still didn't know why I promised to bring new music. It was spur of the moment, a rash decision; what music could I bring that he hadn't heard before?

With that in mind, I went to class.

S​

"You desire for me to transcribe Kryptonian music?" Brainiac asked.

I nodded. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No; it would be a simple matter to transcribe the necessary data onto one of the primitive tapes you have brought. I simply inquire as to the purpose, when I could just play the music for you."

I pulled up a chair and sat down, studying the rocket. If I peered hard enough, I could see the near-finished costume being completed within the machines Brainiac had erected. By tomorrow, I'd finally be able to replace my old costume with a professional product, complete with useful tools.

"It's... I want to have something to listen to when I'm out of the house," I finally replied. "I do want to learn more about Krypton, and listening to music outside wouldn't draw suspicion in comparison to, like, watching a film."

It was a terrible lie, but it seemed to work. One of Brainiac's mechanical arms took a few tapes and prepared a small device. Plugging the tapes in, they began to whir softly.

"Very well, Taylor. What music would you want me to transcribe?"

"What were some of the most famous musicians on Krypton?" I asked.

"That is a difficult question to answer, due to its subjective nature. There are millions I could choose from, each considered to be the greatest of a certain genre in a certain age. How many Earth musicians can you think of, most of which have only lived in the past five hundred years?"

"Alright, fair enough," I said. "What are your oldest musicians, then? Like, the Kryptonian equivalent of Bach or Mozart."

"Enduring musicians, then. Allow me to run a search buffer for musicians whose work had significant cultural significance for more than ten thousand years." Brainiac flashed, then continued. "There are several examples: Rak-Ul, commonly regarded as the founder of First Expansion Yearning; and Yula Mon-El, who composed the famous Unification Symphony."

"That sounds good. Could you put their most famous songs on the tapes? One tape for each musician."

"Certainly. Would you like to hear some, first?"

I smiled. "Please."

"This is the Unification Symphony I mentioned earlier," Brainiac said. "Yula Mon-El composed it by the commission of the new Kryptonian government to celebrate the planet's nations uniting into one. It is one hundred and ninety-two thousand, six hundred and forty-eight Earth years old."

There was a half-moment's pause, then music began to fill the room, unlike anything I had heard before. Everything about it seemed familiar, yet distinct in its own beautiful way; the instruments weren't like anything on Earth, yet they just clicked together. I could describe the melody that came out of the speaker to the end of my days, and still not do it justice.

Something wet ran down my cheeks, and I realized I was actually crying. Sniffling, I wiped the tears away and took a deep breath. Part of me just wanted to sit and listen, to hear what other masterpieces Brainiac had stored, but I knew there was still work to be done.

"That's enough," I said. "That'll do for now."

"Very well," Brainiac said. "I have finished transcribing the music, as requested."

Sure enough, the tapes popped out, and I hurriedly pocketed them. Brainiac retracted the machine back into the bowels of the rocket, and I left the basement. Dad was asleep upstairs, so I hovered above the ground as I headed to my room and put the tapes in my backpack.

Once that was done, I changed into my costume, and crept out the window. The entire city was open to me, a vast expanse of sight and sounds that ranged from the microscopic to the gigantic. A fire in the downtown area; a mugging in several blocks away; countless other emergencies... there was a lot to do for the night.

Thankfully, I wouldn't be alone. The Protectorate was out there, handling more than a few crimes out in the city, and there were independent heroes to consider, like the New Wave. Maybe I could drop by and help the Wards out; Weld would probably be on-shift, and he'd be friendly enough to work with me.

A scream suddenly interrupted my musings. Turning, I saw that it was coming from a little boy, no older than six, huddled up against the wall and crying uncontrollably. A man was nearby on the ground, being savagely beaten by a pair of ABB thug. The boy's father, based on the facial similarities, or maybe his uncle.

I arrived in a matter of moments, landing between the boy and the thugs, the asphalt threatening to crack beneath my feet. The gangbangers turned to look at me after a heartbeat's pause, and their eyes widened like saucers as the realization hit them. One of them overcame his shock to pull out a gun, but I beat him to the punch.

In mere seconds, they were unconscious and tied to a nearby telephone pole, bound with a bar of metal I ripped from a nearby fence. Once I was sure they were secured, I turned my attention to the boy and the injured man on the street. The kid was kneeling by the man, still crying, and I rushed over to see how I could help.

The boy looked up at me with red eyes as I knelt beside him. "Por favor... mi papa..."

"Le ayudaré," I replied.

The man was hurt badly, that much was certain. Three ribs on his right side were broken, ugly bruises welling up under the skin, and he struggled with each breath. His brain was untouched, thankfully, and there didn't appear to be any spinal damage; I could carry him safely.

Carefully, I took him into my arms. He grunted in pain when picked him up, but was otherwise silent. Shifting him into a better position, I turned to look at the boy and forced a smile.

I swallowed dryly. "Espera aquí."

The boy nodded, rubbing his eyes.

"No se preocupe," I said, trying to reassure him. "Yo soy Superwoman."

With that, I flew.

There was a hospital close by; I landed at the emergency entrance, taking care not to jostle the man in my arms. It took only a few moments for paramedics to spot me, and they rushed over with a stretcher. Gently, they took the man and laid him on it, then began to wheel him inside. I flew back to grab the boy and brought him to the paramedics as well, quickly explaining that he was the man's son.

Thankfully, they took him in. In the distance, I could hear sirens as the police went to apprehend the thugs I disabled; that was one less thing to worry about. Breathing a sigh of relief, I took to the sky once more.

As I flew, I glanced down at my hands, and I saw they were coated in blood. Already it was congealing on my hands, and I had to repress the urge to vomit as I flew to the beach to wash it off. I plucked a jagged rock from the sand and used it to scrape my hands clean before shoving them into the waves. Cool seawater washed around me, but it didn't quite soak my clothes, as though my power resisted it.

Yet it didn't resist blood.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. The boy's scream rang through my head, as did the weak gurgles of his dying father, and I couldn't get them out. I could remember every minute detail of what happened, and it made me want to cry, to forget.

No. Letting out a shuddering sigh, I rose to my feet and brushed myself off. Things like that were to be expected; I needed to focus on the fact that the man's life was saved, that the boy still had a father. I couldn't let the horrors get to me. I wouldn't.

Clenching my fists, I soared into the sky. There was still work that needed to be done.
​

​

 

It was a blessing from the gods that the second day of school fell on a Friday. Without Emma to hang out with, lunch was the only thing I could look forward to; I already knew the class subject matter like the back of my hand, and most of the other students didn't want to socialize with me.

Sitting down at the lunch table, I pulled out a book and began to read. It was a bit frustrating, reading around other people; I couldn't just flip through the pages and finish it in a few seconds. Nonetheless, it gave me something to do, aside from just listening to the countless sounds of the world around me.

"Learning Russian now, huh?"

I looked up to see Weld sit down at the table, pulling up close to me. There was warmth behind his smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Yeah, the Mandarin was too tough," I lied. "Decided Russian would be easier, and it is."

"Huh," Weld said. "Never would've thought that, with how weird the words look even after being transcribed."

Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out a thick volume on parahuman studies and plopped it on the desk. It was already chock full of notes and sticky pads wedged between the pages, and I gathered it was his own personal copy to use. He didn't open it, however; instead, he opted to turn to me.

"So, what music do you have?"

"I think you'll like it," I said, pulling the tapes out of my pocket. "You can play these, right?"

"Yep," Weld replied, reaching over to grab the tapes. "These will work just fine, Taylor."

Fishing into his backpack, he pulled out an old SDAT player and plugged in the first tape. Putting on his headphones, he leaned back into his seat and listened intently, eyes staring out into space. A few moments passed, then his eyes began to widen. Tuning in, I realized he was getting to when the first movement got really good. His head began to bop with the rhythm, and a wide smile broke out on his face.

"This is really good," he said. "Like, really good. Where did you find this?"

"It, uh, was my mom's collection," I hastily replied. "She was the music buff in the family, and she got me into it. She never told me where she bought it, though, and I don't really know the genre."

"Hell, I'm not sure if I even know it. It's sorta like classical, but there's so many different styles meshed into it, you know? And the instrumentals aren't what I'm used to hearing, either."

I shrugged. "I think they're foreign, but I'm not sure."

"Me neither," he replied.

A few minutes passed in silence, then Weld reluctantly paused the music. Pulling the tape out, he put in the other and began to listen to that one. He seemed to like it even more, if the bobbing of his head was any indication, and he was very reluctant to remove his headphones after a few minutes had passed.

"Does your mom have any more of this?" he asked. "You should ask her about the genre."

"She, uh, died," I said, averting my eyes. "She left me the tapes."

Weld frowned. "I'm sorry, Taylor; I didn't know about that."

"Not your fault," I replied, smiling weakly. "I didn't tell you about it."

"Still should've guessed," Weld sighed. "You want the tapes back?"

"No, no; you can keep them over the weekend," I replied. "Just be careful with them, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, nodding. "Don't worry; they're in good hands, Taylor."

Weld put the tapes in his backpack, along with the book; it seemed he'd decided against reading for now. He pulled out some tapes of his own and handed them to me, offering a tight smile.

"Who's the artist?" I asked, taking the cassettes.

"It's a mixtape of my favorites," he replied. "I listen to it when I'm reading back on base. You can keep it for the weekend, too."

"T-thanks," I said. "Can I borrow your SDAT?"

Weld smiled. "Sure thing, Taylor."

Putting the headset on, I began to listen. As it turned out, Weld had fantastic taste in music; there were songs from a variety of genres on his cassette, each of them great in their own way. Jazz, pop, hip-hop; he was quite broad in his samplings.

I gave him a thumbs-up, prompting a wide grin. I listened to the tape for a bit longer, then removed it from the SDAT and pocketed it.

"Thanks," I said, handing him back the SDAT.

"No problem," Weld replied. "You know, I was, uh, wondering..."

"Yes?"

If Weld could blush, he'd be bright red as he spoke. "Do you want to hang out sometime? I mean, when we're not in school and all."

"T-that sounds good," I said, my voice practically a squeak. "Yeah. I'd like that."

The bell rang, and Weld glanced at the clock. "Already? Hang on, let me give you my phone number."

He ripped a piece of paper from his backpack and jotted down a number on it, then handed it to me. I stuffed into my pocket, then rose to my feet, smiling.

"See you soon," I said.

"Likewise," Weld replied, turning to the exit.

I headed to my own class, painfully aware of the heat in my cheeks. Did that actually just happen? Did Weld, a boy, just give me his phone number? It was a jarring disconnect, really; that had never happened before. Guys tended to waltz past me and hit on Emma; I was her lanky friend that acted almost as a buffer. Sure, she tried to hook me up a few times, but it never worked out.

I pulled out the paper and read the number. Was there anything more to it? He just said 'hang out', not 'let us practice the art of mushing our faces together', and Weld didn't seem like the guy to do that.

Folding the paper again, I stuffed it back into my pocket and continued on to class.

Besides, there was someone else I needed to call first.

S​

Later that afternoon, I was in the park once more. The weather was cooling down, the air almost crisp, but there was still some way to go before summer came to an end. There were less people out, since it was an afternoon on a weekday, which was perfect for what I needed to do.

Jones was sitting on the bench we specified, reading a thick book. Taking a moment to look, I saw he was reading Welsh poetry, of all things. My understanding of the language was scarce, unfortunately, and I made a mental note to study it later as I strolled over.

"Afternoon, Mr. Jones," I said.

He looked up, blinking in surprise. "I almost didn't recognize you for a moment. Good job with the disguise, I must say; most people wouldn't suspect the truth. Come, sit."

I sat down on the other edge of the bench and folded a leg over my lap. Jones folded his book shut and turned to me, a professional look on his face. Aside from a jogger that passed by, there was nobody within a hundred feet around us to hear the conversation.

"What is it you want to talk about?" he asked. "Do you need my detective services?"

I shook my head. "I need your help as a former PRT director. What can you tell me about the ABB, that I already don't know?"

Jones leaned back, his brow furrowed. "Let me see... well, they're definitely largest gang in terms of sheer numbers, even if they don't have as many capes as the E88. Even less, now that you took down Tengu. Good work, by the way."

"Thanks," I said.

"Now, the ABB is composed of many nationalities and ethnicities from Asia," Jones continued. "If you even know a little history, you know that typically doesn't end well. Lung keeps the gang together through intimidation and fear; no one dares cross him, not even the heavier bruisers in the E88. I didn't want to go into much detail beforehand, but he was present at Kyushu."

"That was the worst attack, right?"

Jones nodded. "Leviathan assaulted the place for three hours before being driven off, leaving two million dead in his wake. According to some sources, the continental plate would've cracked after another hour or so, from all the pressure the water put on, and it would've sunken beneath the waves. Thankfully, it didn't come to that."

"Did Lung drive him off?"

"More or less; the Green Dragon was also there, along with the Protectorate and local heroes. Two dragons against another, I suppose. Still, it gave us in the PRT a good assessment of what Lung could do, the power he could wield if given enough time to ramp up. He can easily become the most powerful cape in the city if he's not taken down fast, which is why he's still at large."

"So, without Lung, the gang would splinter?"

"Faster than he'd care to admit." Jones leaned forward, a sudden look of concern on his face. "I have a bad feeling about where this is going."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Has anyone told you that you're a terrible liar?" Jones asked. "I know you're considering taking the fight to Lung. A lot of capes had that same idea; they either wised up or they died. Painfully. You need coordination, teamwork, and a damned good plan to handle a cape like that; thick-headedness could get you killed."

My face hardened. "How long has the Protectorate been working at that, might I ask?"

Jones fell silent.

"The Protectorate and PRT are afraid of what would happen, wouldn't they?" I pressed on. "I know enough of my history to know that power vacuums can lead to chaos, and that's not something they don't want to happen."

"I never agreed with that," Jones sighed. "I put a lot of pressure on my higher-ups, trying to get more capes in the city so we could handle these gangs. I know where you're coming from, Taylor, and I agree with you. A power struggle could be bad, if we don't step in soon enough to handle things, but this current situation is bad."

"Last night, I saw a boy screaming bloody murder as two ABB goons beat his father half to death. I could see the fear in his eyes, hear the pounding of his tiny heart against his ribs. He'll carry that memory for the rest of his life. And what about the other victims of the ABB and E88? The people they've killed, or tortured, or victimized? How many girls have been taken into their sex slavery rings?"

"Too many," Jones said. "I've seen those things you're talking about; it keeps me up at night."

"So I'm not going to let that continue," I replied, my voice hard. "This? This whole thing between the ABB and E88? It ends now. I'm not going to disrupt the balance of power in the criminal underground; I'm going to crush it into the ground and make sure it never gets back up."

"You think you can do this by yourself?" Jones asked. "You're going to need help along the way; you have to know that."

I nodded. "Of course I will, but don't underestimate me. I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve that no one's seen yet."

"Well, it's clear that I can't talk you out of this." Jones sighed and rose to his feet. "Don't hesitate to ask for help. Be careful, Taylor, and good luck."

"Thanks," I replied. "Have a nice day, Mr. Jones."

"Please, call me John," he called back, walking away. "Mr. Jones makes me feel old."

"John," I said to myself, watching him go. "John Jones. Nice ring to it."

Sighing, I rose to my feet and started the long walk home. The sun was low on the horizon, and I had to be back at the house for Dad. I was planning on making a nice lasagna for him; I'd need to start baking soon.

After that, however, I had other business to attend to.

S​

In the dead of night, after Dad had gone to bed, I went downstairs with a mug of tea in hand. Brainiac was still in the corner, humming softly in the infrasonic range as it worked, and it began to glow as I glided down the last steps into the basement.

"Good evening, Taylor."

"Evening, Brainiac," I said, putting the mug down on the workshop table. "How's work going?"

"Your suit is finally completed, after some last-minute tune-ups," Brainiac replied. "Would you like to see it?"

"Heck yeah!" I said. "I've been waiting forever for it; I finally want to see how it looks."

"Very well."

The compartment on the rocket opened up, and a mechanical arm held up the uniform for me to see. It was definitely an improvement over the one I had made for myself; for one, it was a single piece of cloth that was tailor-made for me. Stepping forward, I ran a hand over the bright blue fabric of the uniform, pinching it between my fingers. It felt almost like silk, but different, in a way I couldn't really describe.

Turning it around, I saw that the zipper was on the back, just as I had designed it. Quickly pulling off my clothes, I took the uniform from the clothes rack and put it on, marveling at how it felt. It wasn't like spandex or other tights; in fact, it was rather thick, but it fitted me better than my own skin. Pulling up the zipper, I began to stretch about, testing how the suit responded. It seemed to almost shift with every movement, never chafing nor folding.

"Is it satisfactory?" Brainiac inquired.

"It's amazing," I breathed.

"I also synthesized the belt you requested, with some additions."

"Oh?"

"You can look for yourself and tell me your opinion on it."

Turning, I saw the yellow belt suspended on another mechanical arm. It looked a lot like how I'd designed it, but it actually had pouches and clips to store stuff. In a way, it reminded me a lot of the utility belts worn by cops and PRT officers, but more streamlined and stylized.

Taking it, I clinched it around my waist with a soft click, making sure the buckle was on right. Once that was done, I grabbed my cape and draped it over my shoulders. Something in the fabric in my suit shifted, and the cape became firmly attached.

God, I love Kryptonian technology.

"Now this is a proper uniform," I said, twirling about. "This is like something the Triumvirate would wear."

"Is there anything else you require, Taylor?" Brainiac asked.

I paused, thinking back on what Jones had warned. If I was going to follow through on what I planned, I needed to be prepared.

"Can you synthesize a safe tranquilizer?" I asked. "One that could make variable doses based on who the dart impacts?"

"A simple task," Brainiac replied. "Wait ten minutes."

I waited, tapping my foot impatiently. Glancing at my tea, I decided to drink it while Brainiac synthesized the tranqs. More out of habit than anything else, I gently blew on the surface-

-and several flakes of ice formed.

I blinked in surprise, then blew again, harder than before. Sure enough, a thin layer of ice formed over my tea, then swiftly began to melt. The infrared light blooming off the surface was dimmer than before, and I warily took a sip. The tea was cooler than before, but not hot, and I drank deeply.

Well, that was certainly new.

By the time I finished the tea, a trio of darts had come out of the rocket, and I gently grabbed them. Giving them a once over, I put them into one of my belt pouches. They could come into handy, later tonight.

Finally, I was ready. Silently floating up the stairs, I crept out of the house, then took off. I flew high into the air, far above the city, then looked down.

It didn't take long to find the heart of ABB operations; a large warehouse close to the water. There were plenty of guards patrolling around, many of them with guns, and other gang members were lounging around in surrounding buildings. Many were drinking, and one of the warehouses seemed to be where they kept their... human comforts.

In the main building, there were even more gang members. Oni Lee seemed to be prowling around the edges, occasionally using his power to reach vantage points as he kept an eye out for intruders. But someone else caught my attention; someone far more dangerous than Oni Lee.

Lung himself sat on one of the higher floors of the building, lounging in a La-Z boy as he watched his subordinates work. He was big, bigger than most men, and he wore no shirt to hide his muscular upper body. Dragon tattoos covered his arms and chest, all of them Eastern designs, and he wore an elaborate metal mask to hide his face. Peering underneath, I saw a rather hard face with cold eyes.

I didn't have to do this. Maybe I should've tried to get help from the Protectorate, spur them into action. But Jones was right when he said that they were afraid of the power struggle that'd come. How many crimes would the ABB commit while I tried to get the Protectorate to stop them?

Taking a deep breath, I made a beeline right for the heart of the ABB.

A/N: For those of you who are curious, Taylor's new costume looks like the one from Superman: Earth One, but with a collar like New 52. Not armor, but not spandex, either.

 

I went for where they were keeping the girls first.

They were being kept in a warehouse rather far away from where Lung was currently residing; they were stuffed into makeshift cells like sardines in a can. Altogether, there were twenty-three of them, most of them around my age. It appeared that they were 'fresh stock', based on how their clothes weren't completely filthy yet. A lone guard was in the warehouse with them, watching TV, while another stood at the door.

The thought of what kind of future could await those girls made my blood boil.

The guard at the door didn't have time to react before I dropped from the sky and clocked him in the chin. He crumpled to the ground soundlessly, and I made sure to hogtie him with his belt before I knocked the door down.

The other guard spun in his chair, grabbing for the gun he had on the table, but I beat him to the punch. Ripping the gun out of his hand with enough force to crack some fingers, I knocked him out as well. There was a cellphone in his pocket, and I made sure to grab it before heading to check on the prisoners.

The girls recoiled away from the bars as I walked forward, a look of terror in their eyes. The reflexive flinch spoke volumes about their treatment, and I felt a little guilty about scaring them like that. The place reeked of grime and waste; of course the ABB wouldn't care about their hygiene. Many of them already looked gaunt and malnourished, a sunken look in their eyes.

"P-please," one of the girls said, huddling with the others. "H-h-help us."

"That's why I'm here," I replied, trying to sound soothing. "Don't worry; I'm breaking you out."

Taking a deep breath, I stepped towards the nearest cage. The lock was putty in my hands as I tore it free, and the gate swung open with a creak. Stepping back, I let the girls slowly come out. I did the same for the other cages, until all of them were freed from their cells. I tossed the cellphone to the girl who had spoken earlier, then straightened.

"You need to get out of here as fast as you can. There's a secure alleyway out back; I checked for any signs of ABB. Call the police and the PRT, tell them what's going on."

The girl swallowed. "A-about this?"

I nodded. "The ABB is ending tonight; I'm making sure of that. There's going to be a hell of a ruckus in the next few minutes, and I don't want you to get hurt in the thick of it. Now, go!"

Slowly but surely, the girls began to leave through the open door, following my directions. I watched them for a minute or two, making sure they weren't encountering any trouble, then turned my attention to the other matters at hand. There were plenty of warehouses in the ABB's turf, many of them filled with armed thugs. While they probably didn't have anything more impressive than grenades, I didn't want to take any chances.

And, of course, there was still the matter of Oni Lee and Lung. The two of them alone provided the backbone of the gang; guns could do only so much to level the playing field when a single man could wipe out a city block. If what Jones said about Lung was true, I needed to hit him hard, and hit fast. The thought of him burning down the entire Docks wasn't an appealing one.

Cracking my knuckles, I set to work.

There were two other warehouses nearby, where the ABB prepared their drugs for the trade. A good number of the workers there seemed to be unwilling participants, considering how nervous the presence of the guards made them. I flew to one of them next, smashing through the wall and disabling the thugs inside. Once they were down, a lot of the workers began to run, using the hole I made to escape.

Based on the sound of distant sirens, something told me they wouldn't get far. The police would be sympathetic to their plight; it was well-known that many people were forced to work for the larger gangs, but they still needed to be processed by the law to make sure of that. I wasn't completely comfortable with it, but I knew it needed to be done.

By the time I was finished with the second of the drug-cutting warehouses, the ABB was starting to wake up to what was going on. Thugs began to pour out of their hiding holes, brandishing a hodgepodge of weapons, from knives to assault rifles. Ash billowed in the corner of my eye, and Oni Lee teleported onto the street, dead eyes staring out from underneath a stylized mask.

There had to be at least fifty thugs converging on the warehouse, and that didn't count the trouble Oni Lee could cause. Lung had probably taken notice as well, and that'd give him time to ramp up, to become even stronger. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. Focus.

Then, I sprang into action.

I moved in a blur of motion, weaving between the goons as I took them out one by one. Time seemed to slow to a trickle as I went faster than ever before, the thugs' motions growing sluggish, like they were trying to move through molasses. By the time one hit the ground, four more would be out for the count. It must've been a terrifying sight for them, seeing their friends so quickly taken down, but what I had seen earlier made it hard to sympathize.

Oni Lee teleported, the copy left in his place crumbling into ash as I struck it. His heartbeat came into being again, and I turned to see he had moved onto a fire escape. He could wait for the time being; I decided to disable the thugs first.

A few more were coming out of nearby warehouses, but they were as useful as a screen door on a submarine. In a matter of a minute, they were all taken care of. Some were handcuffed, or bound with nearby chains, while I needed to use less conventional restraints for the rest. Belts, shoelaces; whatever I could get. The PRT and police would arrive soon enough; they could better handle them once it was all done.

Now, I could focus on the real powers of the ABB.

Oni Lee chucked a grenade at me from his vantage point on the fire escape. It wouldn't hurt me, but I knew the disabled thugs weren't so tough. Flying up to catch it, I then tossed it as far up into the air as possible. There was a sharp crack as the grenade broke the sound barrier, then it detonated a half-second later, sending shrapnel raining down and pattering on the ground. Aside from a few scratches, the goons on the ground were unharmed.

I flew at Lee before he could prepare another grenade. Catching him in the cheek, he fell over, only to crumble into ash again. It was frustrating, trying to deal with him; his power meant I couldn't tell when he'd already teleported. Listening in for his heartbeat, I turned to see that he'd moved back to the ground. Flying down, I struck him in the chin, and he collapsed without turning into ash.

With Lee finally down, there was only one left to deal with. Behind me, I heard the doors of the main warehouse crumple and fold outwards as something big lurched out, its massive heart pounding like a bass drum. Slowly, I turned to see him stalk forward, flames dancing about his body.

Lung.

Already he had grown to fifteen feet in height, scales glittering like smooth stones as fire washed over them. He was more dragon than man, now, his form top-heavy as his chest broadened, bones cracking and reforming beneath steely muscle. A long head turned my way, perched atop a serpentine neck, and I could see the fury in his all-too-human eyes.

"Ooo," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Ill ooo."

Kill you, I translated. He really meant business.

I floated gently up into the air until I was at eye level with him, arms folded. Lung stayed still, studying me with eyes bigger than my head. His growth slowed, but didn't stop; he was judging me, planning his attack. It seemed he was smarter than most had given him credit for.

"It's over, Lung," I said. "Your gang's taken out. Lee is incapacitated. The PRT and Protectorate will be here soon enough, and you'll be seeing the inside of a cell by the end of the night."

Lung laughed, a throaty chuckle I could feel in my chest. "Ooo ill ite ee, lilil gurl?"

You will fight me, little girl?

I didn't answer. Instead, I dashed forward, striking Lung across the face with both fists. Bones cracked beneath the blow, and Lung's head snapped to the side as he stumbled back, blood spraying from his shattered jaw. Already his wounds were healing, but it still had to hurt.

"Ugger!" he roared, charging forward.

I didn't need to translate that.

For something so big, Lung moved faster than I expected. A clawed hand caught me in the side, sending me flying close to the edge of the water. Asphalt cracked beneath me as I hit the ground hard, and nearby windows rattled with the force of the impact. Rising to my feet, I saw Lung tearing up the street beneath his claws as he lumbered forward, flames practically exploding outward from every square inch of his body.

Flexing, I flew straight at him, catching him in the gut with outstretched fists. Ribs shattered and organs pulped as the hit knocked Lung off his feet, blood spraying from his mouth, but he seemed to ignore it as he grew larger, the wounds swiftly healing. Before my eyes, he went from fifteen feet to twenty, more and more scales sprouting from his skin as he became even more monstrous. A pair of wings began to emerge from his back, scaly flesh unfolding between the spindly skeleton.

"Ill erp urr oms uf!" Lung snarled.

"You can try!" I shouted back.

Lung lunged at me again, but I ducked underneath the clumsy swing and struck upwards, lifting him off his feet. I went on the offensive, hitting harder and harder as Lung regenerated the damage. He tried to swat me down, but I grabbed his arm and hefted him over my head, sending him smashing into the ground. Lung's arm shattered, splintered bone protruding from his flesh, but he ignored it as he reared up. Pulling against me, his arm tore free of its socket, only for a new one to begin growing in.

I thought back to the tranquilizers in my belt, then dismissed them for the time being. He was tough, but I was tougher, and he needed to know that. It was time to kick things into high gear and end this.

Before Lung could react, I grabbed his left leg and arced upward, pulling him into the air. He roared in protest, flames darting from his skin, but I didn't feel their searing heat. I did feel bones shift as he continued to heal and grow, however; I could see why he was so troublesome for the Protectorate. Another pair of wings was beginning to sprout from his back, and he was already over thirty feet in height.

That wouldn't matter much in a few moments, however. Already I had formulated a plan.

Once I was a good hundred feet into the air, I took hold of his left leg and began to spin about, building up momentum. Lung tried to kick free, but I tightened my grip, blood trickling from where my fingers stabbed into his scaly flesh. We moved faster and faster, to the point where my fingers threatened to simply slice through his leg, and I finally decided to let go.

Lung arced out towards the bay, flames trailing behind him as he flew. He actually skipped across the surface of the water before finally sinking with a massive splash, and I could see that the impact had shattered nearly every bone in his body. The wounds began to knit back together with astonishing speed, but it wouldn't be enough.

Lowering to the surface of the bay, I began to breathe deeply. And I mean deeply. The water began to ripple inwards in all directions with the sheer force of my inhalation, and I could feel an icy chill in the pit of my stomach as the air began to be compressed in my lungs. Beneath me, Lung was swimming to the surface, a look of fury in his draconian eyes.

Of course, he had no idea what was going to hit him.

Lung broke the surface, an inhuman roar escaping him as he zeroed in on me. I floated before him, chest held proud, then exhaled. A cone of white fog struck him dead on, ice forming wherever it made contact. Lung's flames were promptly snuffed out, and a thick layer of ice began to encase him, trapping him. His heart continued to beat in his scaly breast, but I could see my trick had taken the fight out of him.

Floating back, I watched as the ice slowly melted, and as Lung shrank. Once he was below ten feet, I drifted forward, taking the tranquilizers out of my belt. Lung still glared at me, and I could see new flames dancing around him as the last vestiges of ice disappeared, but it was of no concern.

"I will bring you to new levels of-" he began, only to be silenced when I grabbed his throat.

Pulling him out of the water, I jabbed the tranquilizers into his neck. There was a hiss of a syringe at work, and I could see the serum pumping through Lungs' veins, sedating him. He fell lax in my grip, and the flames died away as he finally shrank back to normal.

"Wh... what did you..." he slurred.

"I pumped you full of sedatives. Should keep you incapacitated long enough for the authorities to arrive. Still have two more, just in case."

"Why... wait?" Lung mumbled. "Why not use... earlier?"

"Why?" I paused, then brought him closer, so he could look into my eyes. "To show that I could've won the fight whenever I wanted. You waited and grew, to the point that the entire local Protectorate couldn't beat you, but I did. The other gangs and villains in the city will know that, now. They'll know that this city is no longer theirs to torment, that they are now the small fish in the pond."

My grip tightened, and I could see him try to tense in response.

"You're finished, Lung. Even if you do somehow escape captivity, I'll be waiting, and I'll beat you again."

I turned to the sound of sirens. Already police cruisers and PRT vans were pulling up along the Docks, handcuffing the thugs I disabled.

"Now, let's properly finish this night," I said. "Try not to make a fuss."

Rising into the air, I began to fly back to the shore, and to a new city.​

 

Earlier

He knew he was making progress when he forgot to eat.

The soft chime of an alarm pulled him out of his work, and he wearily looked up from the workshop table. Dragon's avatar was splayed on the computer monitor, a concerned look on her face.

"Yes, yes, I know," he muttered softly, leaning back in his chair. "I was finally getting a handle on the upgrade for the grappling hook. Hard to make a mechanism that small and powerful."

"It's been six hours since you last got up from this table, Colin. Go get a cup of coffee, maybe something to eat. I can review your notes some more while you're out."

Colin sighed. "I appreciate your help, Dragon."

Rubbing his eyes, he rose from his seat, stretching as he did. The sound of vertebrae popping in his back and neck prompted a wince from him, and he made a mental note to look into better chair designs. Grabbing his helmet, he slid it over his head until it connected to the rest of his suit with a soft click, then headed out into the hallway.

It was graveyard shift at the Protectorate HQ. The halls were virtually deserted, with only the occasional sighting of another human being. Miss Milita and Dauntless were on patrol, while Velocity was likely back at home. Assault and Battery were in the building with him, most likely training together, but their shift would end in half an hour. Quiet nights were a relative luxury, especially in a city like Brockton Bay.

Now, where could he find a vending machine...

"Few halls down, on your right," Dragon said, her voice smooth over the headset. "There's also a coffee machine next to it."

"Thank you," he mumbled.

As he strode down the hall, he passed by Weld's quarters, and paused. The door was slightly ajar, and through it he could hear music. What caught his attention, however, was that it was unlike anything he'd heard before. It was beautiful, but at the same time an oddity, curiously arranged. Weld often played music in the dead of night, when there was nobody around to complain, but never anything like this.

After a moment's hesitation, he walked to the door and knocked curtly. A few moments passed, then Weld opened it. Colin could hear the music more clearly, now, and he realized that he'd never heard the instruments played before. Yet, at the same time, there was something oddly familiar about it; the melody was almost like a classical orchestra, but with a myriad of small twists.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Weld asked.

Colin shook his head. "No, I was just curious about what you were listening to."

Weld shrugged. "A friend gave it to me."

"One of the Wards? I know Clockblocker occasionally listens to music on his off-shift."

"No, just a friend in school."

Colin frowned. It was an innocent enough statement, but it was surprising that the metal Ward had already made a friend; reports from Boston indicated that Weld had trouble socializing in his old school. It was a pleasant surprise, he supposed, but something about it made him feel a little suspicious.

"Very well," he finally said. "Enjoy your night."

"Thank you, sir."

Weld shut the door, and Colin continued on to get his much-needed caffeine. The music grew faint, and he felt almost reluctant to leave it behind. That was definitely a surprise; he was never too keen on such things.

He activated his helmet's commset. "Dragon, did you hear that music Weld was playing?"

"I did. Sounded quite lovely. Would you want to see if I could find the artist?"

"If it doesn't take too much time, then I suppose so. I admit, it has me rather curious."

"Very well," Dragon said. "Give me a few minutes."

Finally, Colin reached the coffee machine. With a swipe of his PRT-issued card, he grabbed a cup and watched as it filled with hot java. The strong aroma of ground beans wafted by his nose, and he let out a long sigh of satisfaction.

With his prize in tow, he returned to his workshop. The monitor had gone to sleep; it seemed that Dragon was still researching the music. Normally, it was a simple matter to find a subject; Dragon knew the inner workings of the internet like he did the back of his hand.

Curious.

Sitting down at his workshop table, he went back to work. The innards of his halberd were splayed open, revealing the complex circuitry underneath; he had to be careful not to damage the other systems as he put in new parts. Sometimes, when he took a step back, he realized just how little he himself could understand the technology; it was like the designs just popped into being, with no explanation as to how.

"Colin."

He looked up. Dragon's digital face had returned, brow furrowed.

"Something wrong?"

"Yes," Dragon replied. "I can't find it. The music, I mean. There's no record of it whatsoever."

Colin took a sip of his coffee. "Are you sure? There's a lot of underground music that isn't digitalized. Have you tried searching more physical documents?"

"I wouldn't call that kind of music 'underground'," Dragon retorted. "It's more like something a world-class orchestra would play. And I've already checked for digital links to physical storage, but they showed nothing, either. It's like this music just came out of nowhere."

There was a moment's pause before she continued. "Colin, I've recently come across some information... and I don't know what to do with it. Do you ever recall there being a tinker named Andrew Richter?"

"I think you mentioned him before. You and him used to work together, back in Newfoundland."

"Before Leviathan managed to sink the island and killed half a million people before being driven off by the Guild and the Green Dragon. Richter was one of those casualties, swept away by the waves. For a while now, I've been performing salvage operations in the area, trying to find as many of his notes as possible. It's been quite beneficial to my own work so far."

"Did you find something concerning?" Colin inquired. "Designs for a dangerous weapon, perhaps?"

"Nothing quite like that," Dragon replied. "Here, look for yourself."

Her digital avatar disappeared, replaced with an image of some notes. It seemed that Richter used both computers and paper for his designs and blueprints, most likely for redundancy. What caught his attention, however, was an illustration in the center. It appeared to be of a long, cylindrical tube, with marks indicating that it was small enough to fit into his hand.

On the cap, delicately carved into the metal, was a familiar 'S' symbol.

"That's the same as the one Superwoman has," Colin muttered, rubbing his chin. "The exact same. But how could she've known about the lost works of a long-dead tinker?"

"Actually, this isn't the creation of Richter," Dragon said. "Someone gave it to him, if only for a short time before taking it back."

Colin took another swig of his coffee. "Do we know who? That would certainly shed some light on the matter."

"Unfortunately, no," Dragon sighed. "Those records have been lost for good. And there's another thing about it, too."

"Which is?"

Before Dragon could reply, the phone rang. Colin glanced over, and saw that it was the Director calling.

"Hold on," he said, clicking the 'answer' button. "Armsmaster speaking."

"This is Director Piggot. There is an emergency going on at the Docks."

He sat up in his chair. "What kind of emergency, ma'am?"

"All we know is that the ABB's getting assaulted in their own territory, and they're losing. We're mobilizing as many PRT and police as we can to get a handle on the situation. Dauntless and Miss Militia are already en route; I want you, Assault, and Battery to join them ASAP."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

The call ended. Putting the phone back on the receiver, he rose from his chair and glanced at Dragon.

"We can discuss it later," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some urgent business to attend to."

S​

By the time he arrived at the Docks on his motorcycle, it was already over.

Police cars and PRT vans had pulled up right in the heart of ABB territory unmolested. Or, considering the circumstances, former ABB territory. The PRT had formed a line around the scene, preventing press and curious bystanders from getting any closer. They parted when they saw him pass by, however, flanked by Assault and Battery. There were a few murmurs and whispers amongst the civilians as he walked by them, many of them excited.

Already, he could see low-level dealers and thugs being loaded into armored trucks by the dozens, all of them handcuffed. There was a nearby officer, and he strolled forward, halberd gripped tightly in his hand.

"What's the sitrep?" he asked.

The officer turned to look his way. "From what we can tell? The ABB's finished. Gone. Kaput. The police estimated that the ABB had at least two hundred in their direct employ; we've arrested three hundred already. Many of them started piling in when the attack started to try and back the others up, and ran right into us. A bunch of women they were intending to sell off made the call; they're safe and sound at the moment."

"Do we know who did it?" Battery asked.

The officer shook his head. "No clue. The thugs aren't talking, either. Guess it's a matter of bruised pride. The girls said it was a cape, but left it at that. We also received reports of a considerable light show going on near the water, though that only lasted a little bit. Probably Lung."

He scratched his chin before continuing. "Could use your help in securing some of the prisoners; we also have to deal with loading Oni Lee."

"Lee was taken down?" asked Colin.

"Same way as everyone else: a single hit to the face. Gave him a bad concussion, but he'll be alright, which is why I could use some help."

Colin nodded at Assault and Battery. They went ahead, following where the officer pointed. Sure enough, Oni Lee was handcuffed on the ground, struggling weakly against his bonds. The officers were wary as they loaded him into a PRT van, but the presence of two Protectorate capes bolstered their resolve.

Another ABB cape down, Colin thought. But where's Lung?

Shouting interrupted his musings. Looking up, he saw a figure descend from the sky, hard to make out in the darkness. It appeared to be a woman, or a tall girl, garbed in a blue bodysuit and red trunks. A golden belt glittered in the moonlight, and Colin could make out the outline of a cape. Another figure hung limply at the woman's side, and Colin's eyes widened when he realized just who the two figures were.

"Sorry about the wait," Superwoman said, cape fluttering behind her as she landed with Lung in tow. "Had to make sure the tranquilizers were working."

She dropped the leader of the ABB at Colin's feet. Lung was already bound with heavy chains, a glazed look in his eyes, and his mask was nowhere to be seen. He slurred a number of curse words in Japanese, but otherwise remained still.

"You did this?" Colin asked. "You took down the entire ABB, Lung and Oni Lee included, in a single night?"

"In a word? Yeah."

His HUD told him she was telling the truth. He opened his mouth to say something, but found he was genuinely speechless. Instead, he opted to kneel down by Lung, as if to verify he wasn't seeing things. The body type and the tattoos matched, and he could recognize the murderous look in the man's eyes.

"Good work you did, young missy," the PRT officer said.

"Are the girls alright?" Superwoman asked, a look of concern on her face. "They had to run before I could get started."

"They're being questioned right now," the officer replied. "Hopefully, they'll be reunited with their families by morning."

"That's good to hear. The fear in their eyes when I came to help them... there was no way I was going to let the ABB continue. It had to end tonight, otherwise I don't think I could forgive myself."

"Well, they don't have anything to fear, now," the officer said.

Colin straightened. "You did good work, Superwoman. We'll be able to handle things from here; we have the proper infrastructure to handle this, though the cells are going to be overpacked."

"Considering how they packed the girls into their cells, I find it hard to sympathize," Superwoman replied. "Now, you sure you don't want me to help?"

"It'd be a bit redundant," Colin said. "I think every law enforcement officer in the city's come here."

A chuckle. "Hope I didn't cause too much of a fuss."

"I suppose it's the good kind," Colin replied. "I also see you have a new suit."

"Like it? Took a while to make, but I think it paid off."

"It looks like a professional job. Have you joined a team?"

She shook her head. "Nope. And with that, I guess I'll be going."

Superwoman turned to fly away, only for Colin to raise a hand. Frowning, she glanced back at him, arms folded over her chest. Despite her youth, there was something almost intimidating in her posture.

"Something up?" she asked.

"I just wanted to ask you a question," he replied.

"Shoot."

"You seem like quite the girl scout, yet you've refused to join the Wards on numerous occasions. You opted for the independent route when you could've had government backing."

"Felt like it'd hold me back, when I could so much more to help people. I know about how the Wards have to play it safe."

"Well, then why did you enter the hero business?" Colin asked. "Why do you risk your life to help people like this, when you could've played it safer like the other Wards?"

For a few moments, Superwoman was silent. Then, she raised her head.

"Because I can."

With that, she was gone, rocketing away into the night. Colin glanced at his HUD readout, and saw that she had actually told the truth. She actually did seem to be quite the samaritan after all, despite some preconceptions in the PRT.

Sighing, he glanced around at all the officers moving about. It was going to take a lot of paperwork to sort this all out. But, ultimately, he felt it would work out for the better.