The water was rougher than normal today, it's chill bite occasionally reaching up to her hips. She had to watch each wave as it approached her, it would take only one misstep and her travels would be undone. The ground underneath her offered only temporary safety, shifting and slipping away, as if recoiling from her presence. Each step was a challenge, but one she had accomplished before.

The River, as she had learned to call it, extended impossibly far to her and right, going just as far behind. Ahead, she had been told it ended, though she had never made it that far. There were changes along it, hazards more visually impressive than the treachery of the water. Careful navigation was required for each hazard, just as it was required for each step.

This region of the River was supposed to be only as deep as her knees, thanks to her tall stature. But this place was fickle, and things that were supposed to be were often not. She had planned a more roundabout journey through this area for today, but now she did not dare risk it. She would hasten towards her end goal, a waterfall as beautiful as it was dangerous.

She had planned on visiting the denizens of this place, those that were whole enough to talk and cautious enough not to fight her. Her path was the opposite of theirs, they came from downriver and most were not willing to risk their place. There was Harnook, who had spent countless ages here, unable to make the final step, and was always willing to trade information for some of her time. Grath, monstrous in appearance and mind, best to be avoided unless it had already fed. A clan that had banded together, with a new leader each time she came to them.

They did not matter today, unless they sought her out. They could feel her, she knew, just as the mindless ones could. She was food to them, but there was always easier prey floating around. She adjusted her course to avoid the regular feeding grounds, places where bodies and beings slowed in their path. It was a shame, having to take a longer route, but the water that pulled at her, always, was not in her favor.

She could not see very far, a mist rose from the water, blocking her view of anything beyond some twenty feet. She had relied on her memory, once, but memories were fickle and misleading. Now she used the direction of the River, and the shape of the ground, which, if it wasn't trying to pull her into the water, was leading her into some other danger.

Most days, she had a guide, a subject of the waters, faithfully following the path chosen for it. Today, she had a cat that she had found wandering in her back yard. It had no collar, and was sickly thin. She had brought it with her, snapped its neck and thrown it in the water. Without her prodding, it would have gone the most direct route, the one she had chosen to avoid today. She used a stick to push it right, into the first new current.

The water fought her, each part of it was selfish and refused to give what had been given to it. The struggle was short, ended when the second current took hold of her guide and the first flowed back into position. She would continue to take the rightmost split at each new current, in case the currents merged back into one.

It was a strategy Harnook had told her, exchanging it for a mouse she had brought. He had asked for more, and he had come close to taking it for himself, but she held the advantage and he knew it. He was never satisfied with their bargains, she could see it in his eyes, but she was the only one that would bargain with him. His energy was spent on maintaining his presence in this place, and so he was weaker than those who were willing to try that last step, weither or not they failed.

A wave crashed on her back, reaching high and touching her hair. She fell forward, catching herself with an extended leg. A second wave came, and her leg shuddered. Her arms fell forward, hands into the water, reaching for something to stabilize herself with. There was nothing, there never would be. She stood up, slowly and with caution, cradling her hands against her chest.

The water had a chill, colder than it had any right to be. It was another of the River's many dangers, and it seeped her strength out of her. There was only so long she could spend in this place until it started taking more than her strength. Too long, and she would be as Harnook, or perhaps Grath, was.

She had lost sight of her cat when she fell forwards, and had dropped the stick. The stick lay three arms length away, already caught in another current, speeding away from her. There would be no getting it back. Mercifully, her guide remained but a few paces ahead of her, faithful to the last. She took careful steps, catching up as it continued its journey.

Perhaps she should turn back, come again some other day. But she so rarely had the opportunity that she was loathe to waste it. Her father worried whenever she went out on her own, she could not imagine what he would think if he knew of this. She put her hands into the pocket of her sweater, they could dry there. She felt the rat she had brought, currency for Harnook, or a distraction for others.

She followed her guide, and regretted the loss of her stick. She wasn't willing to risk using her own limbs to move the cat at each split in the current. One unexpected wave or eddy and she would lose her footing. There would be no climbing out of the water once she fell in fully. She could only hope that she was far enough from the main current that she would avoid the mindless feeders.

Another peculiarity of this place was the sound. Until she made a noise, willingly or by mistake, she would only hear the River. What defined a sound she had made, as opposed to one made by the water, remained ambiguous to her. Here, she only heard the roar of the waterfall. There was an advantage to this, a rare occurrence in the River. She could always tell if she was getting closer to the waterfall, and how quickly she was approaching. She would not, however, hear the approach of another being, or the crashing waves around her.

It was a trade-off she accepted today and on most other days. When the water was low, she was careful to keep her feet inside the water, each step taken in silence. Today, she didn't have that choice. When her hands fell to the water, they did so without splashing, and so without sound.

She could tell that she hadn't made much progress, too much time spent taking branches, not enough time spent walking forward. That should change now that her guide could only follow the current. It always took her at least two hours of walking to reach the waterfall, today she had added a half hour in her caution.

Until she reached the waterfall, there wasn't anything to see in the River, only mist and a grey sky. So she focused on the cat and on the ground. The water itself was clear, affording her some forewarning for each dip or ridge in the floor.

She felt something tugging at her ankle, different from the eddys and pulls of the water. A string, she realized slowly, that she had tied as a connection to the other world. She had placed protections on her form there, a diamond shaped barrier. It was being attacked, or prodded, it was impossible to tell. If it continued, she would only have to follow the string back to her other form.

It stopped after a few minutes, her barrier still intact. Whatever it was had given up. She set to resume her walk, but she stopped before she started. In her distraction, her guide had left her for its own devices, and it was unlikely that she would catch up to it. With a mental curse, she pulled the rat from her sweater, and set it into the water.

It was another risk, placing something fresh this far into the River. It would attract things she would rather not deal with. Once again, she thought of turning back. Whatever it was that had prodded her barrier may come back, and her new guide brought new dangers. Once again, she decided against it, she had been in worse situations before.

The rat led her just as the cat had, following the current she had placed it in. It moved faster than the cat, and she struggled to keep pace. Waves pushed it further and further ahead, just as they pushed against her, but she was not free to float along as the rat was. She didn't know how long she kept up, but her longs were beginning to burn and her legs beginning to tire. She could hear the waterfall getting louder, it droned and pounded against her ears. She was closer than she had thought.

Her relief was short-lived, however, as the waves pulled her guide out of view. She stopped, and realized she could hear her ragged breaths. Somewhere, she had made a mistake. More than her breaths, she could her the splashes of water that signalled something approaching. She heard this even above the noise of the waterfall, which meant that whatever it was was close.

There was no hiding in the River, not when faced by one of its inhabitants. A traveller, like herself, she could have hidden from, but no traveller would be so careless with its steps and sounds. As quickly as she could, she swung her backpack around, and opened it. She had put a knife in there somewhere, hidden amongst all the clothes she had used as padding to stop various other objects from hitting each other.

She found her knife when she cut her hand on its edge. She pulled it out with her other hand, doing her best to not let any of her blood fall into the River. The image she had of a shark circling its prey was not inaccurate. Just as a shark might be attracted to blood, so too would the feeders be attracted to her life. Her knife had runes marked into its blade, and one on the handle. Marks of the Charter, that spoke of power and strength. Recent additions, ones that she had never tried.

She could hear more than one thing approaching now, from the other side. Had she noticed them before, she could have left this place without worry, but that was part of the danger of listening to the waterfall. Now, they were too close to safely open a door back to the other world, back to life. They would follow her, or if they were servants, keep the door open until something far stronger found its way through. It had been the first thing she had learnt about this place, she could always open a door, but could not always close it.

She could see their figures in the mist, shadows larger than she was, by half. Feeders didn't get that large, not unless they had gathered the strength to break into life. They came fully into view, and she could see that they were not feeders, they were of the Clan.

"Hail," she greeted them, with a small wave of her bloodied hand.

"You should not be here, girl," one of them said, its voice harsh and broken. "You were warned, the last time, not to come back."

She had been warned by their leader at the time, likely gone now. "I had no intention of coming here, the River led me astray."

The other one spoke, "The River brought you to us, then. Pay tribute and we will let you pass."

She was going to tell them that she had lost all that she could have payed with, when she felt the tugging on her ankle. It was stronger this time, something was making a concerted effort to break the diamond. "I have naught to offer, the gift I had brought was taken by the river."

"You would offer another of your guides?" The first said. "Tokens of good faith to our leader, he accepts them. We want something more substantial." He pointed at her hand, blood trickling through her fingers. "You waste it, you would hardly miss it."

Doubtless he hoped to trick her, once he was close he would not stop at a taste of her blood. "My life is my own to do as I wish, and I give it to the River." She hoped it sounded impressive. The Clan was inclined to pageantry as well as betrayal. "I will turn back, I have lost my way anyhow."

"Something else, then." The second said. "That knife you hide there, or the instrument you always bring. A gift to present to our leader, along with you."

She had no intention of speaking with whoever led the clan now, and they had no intention of letting her walk away. The string kept pulling at her ankle, digging into it. "I will leave, you can tell-" and the string snapped. She had no choice now. She fell backwards, but did not touch the water.


Today was supposed to be a day of relaxation, as Assault had put it. For Armsmaster, however, it was supposed to be a day to work on a variety of projects that he had neglected over the past few weeks. There was no promotional appearance scheduled, no departmental meeting, and the gangs had were back to the planning stages of whatever crimes they would commit.

It was when Assault and Battery had been called to help with a fire that Armsmaster knew he wouldn't be spending the day in his lab. He didn't mind as much as some of the others did, but it still irritated him that they didn't have the resources necessary to allow for a moment's rest.

He spent the morning dealing with police officers trying to offload their responsibilities to the Parahumans. Break-ins were trumped up as super-powered robberies, an assault was attributed to a mysterious figure in the shadows. They bore looking in to, but he doubted they would turn up anything, and in a week the officers would get their reports back. Wasting time.

At noon, he was called to a graveyard in the northwestern quadrant of the city. He had never been here, nor had he been called to a graveyard in any official capacity. It was a novelty he found no joy in. There were two officers waiting for him at the entrance, leaning against a stone wall.

They explained the situation to him, there was someone sleeping in the graveyard. That had almost been enough to make him leave in fury, but they continued quickly. There was a force field around them, stopping anyone from getting close. Perhaps the first interesting thing of the day. He asked questions of them, what had they tried to breach the barrier? was it permeable to inorganic materials? how long had the person been there? Their answers were useless, but he recored them anyway.

They pointed the way to the situation, and he told them to leave. The last thing he needed was two extra bodies he had to worry about in case the person turned violent. The person, it turned out, was a teenage girl. Somewhere between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, he guessed. One of the Wards or other heroes could have narrowed it down further, but it hardly mattered.

The girl was leaning against a headstone, and he did his best not to read the name upon it. She was sitting cross legged, with her arms folded in a girl wore a hood, but it didn't cover her face. If he saw her again in the city, there was no doubt he would recognize her. Troublesome, but not entirely unprecedented. The Protectorate was often the first to respond to a new parahuman, and that involved civillian identities.

He was stopped from approaching the girl by a force field, as the officers had described. Four feet from the girl, but not in a circle around her. There were four walls, each impassable, arranged in a diamond pattern. He tried pushing his arm through it, with the full force of his powered suit, to no avail. Next, he tossed a stone at one of the walls. It bounced off, as he had expected.

There was a whole slew of tests that the Protectorate tried with force fields, but he did not have the patience or the resources to perform them here. Were the rest of his team not out dealing with other problems, he might have called one of them in to assist him. The girl was asleep, he could afford to wait. He could easily do it, all he had to do was give a command to his helmet, and someone would come eventually, but still he hesitated.

There wasn't much to the situation, it wasn't worth having two of the limited number of heroes in the city dealing with it. He wasn't even sure it warranted one. He opened his communication channels, if a new situation arose and the girl still hadn't woken or he hadn't broken the barrier, he would leave to deal with it.

So he set himself to testing the barrier with his limited resources. A stick was just as useless as a stone, as was a sonic blast from his halberd. Air passed through perfectly well, he determined. It extended at least four inches below ground, likely more. He tried swinging his halberd, and he imagined the headlines. Local Hero Attacks Defenceless Teen. Or No Regrets Over Unprovoked Assault, Armsmaster Says. It was on his second swing that he noticed something. A sheen to the barrier, where he had connected with his weapon.

His helmet played the situation back to him, and when the halberd struck, the whole wall lit up in a white glow for just an instant. Progress, he hoped. Was it weakening, or was this just what it did? There was more than one way to find out, but he knew the way he would use. He swung at the barrier with full force, and he swung again, and again. Each time, the barrier's glow took longer and longer to dissipate, but each time he was repelled.

With each strike, his confidence grew, until finally he swung and there was no resistance, no force to stop his halberd from splitting the ground in front of the girl. He pulled it out with practiced ease, and set it to its most harmless form. Still lethal and effective in his hands, but he was told it looked far less threatening.

Only then did he notice that the girl was awake, with a knife in hand. Her eyes were wide, staring right at him. The knife looked like nothing more than a switchblade, so he made the decision to put his halberd away entirely. "Are we to fight?" She asked. Was that the impression he had given? She stood, and he backed away, beyond where the barrier once stood.

"Of course not." What has his intention been, then? To break the barrier for the sake of it? No. "I just wanted to have a conversation." There was blood on her hand, had she cut herself with the knife? There were parahumans whose powers were tied to blood, usually villains, usually quite deadly.

"Speak quickly then, and plainly," she said. "There are other matters that need my attention."

He felt that he always spoke plainly, so he did. "How long have you had your abilities?" It wasn't usually the first question asked to new parahumans, but usually they had this sort of information already.

Despite her request, she hardly answered the question. "Since I was young." She was fidgeting with the knife, waving it about in the air.

"Is this the first time you've come to this graveyard? I was called because the other visitors thought you were a runaway." She hesitated in her answer, so he moved on. "Please, put the knife away. No one's fighting today."

She stopped toying with the blade, and gave him a hard look. "The diamond must be undone in proper order. If you'll let me continue, I will fix the damage you have wrought." Armsmaster nodded, curious to see what she would do. She spun her knife in a careful pattern, he could see now. Circles then lines, or the reverse. She worked in silence, though he could see her grimacing from the pain in her hand.

After a few minutes of this, she spoke. "You may wish to leave, or to step back, the north wind is not kind to your work." She did not wait for a response, pointing the knife at the ground. A stream of light, similarly coloured to the sheen he had seen in the barrier, poured out from tool and to the ground. She moved it slowly along where her wall had once been

She finished quickly enough for his liking, and he wished to test her work. She stopped him with a word, "Don't. It is weak, only made to be unmade." She moved around the headstone, to where he had determined the barrier extended. She walked clockwise on the inner side of her wall, and he could see it shimmer as it disappeared.

"Do you have a cape name? Others are going to ask who I was speaking to, they're going to want a report." This was only partially true, new parahumans often went without names until they interacted with the public. As far as he was concerned, this was public enough.

"I have not yet earned my title, nor have I found it." An unsatisfying answer as they came, but not unexpected. She put the knife back into her sweater, and pressed her hand onto her leg.

"Do you need any help? I have a first aid kit on my motorcycle." She was ready to leave, he knew, and this would hopefully extend the conversation.

"It will heal quickly, but thank you," she said. "Is there some sort of… protocol if I wish to spend my time here? I had not thought that my presence would bother anyone."

He pulled out a card from a compartment in his armour. "I can't guarantee you won't be disturbed by anyone, but this should help. The number goes directly to a human responder, just tell them where you'll be. If the police call us, they'll be told to leave. The extension on the back is for my phone, do not use it unless you are in danger." He had given quite a few of these cards out to parahumans over the years, and he had never once been called.

She took it, and went around him without so much as a good day. He wondered once again if he should have called in someone from his team, they were unilaterally better with non-violent situations than he was. There was no use dwelling on it, so he thought of other things. The girl would be assigned a number by the automated system, and a file would be created. His recording of the conversation would go into the file, as would his report.

He watched her leave, and once she was out of sight he examined the scene. There were clear lines on the ground, were the barrier had been, no traces of blood. He could not yet be sure if her blood was a catalyst or merely an accident. Her knife had been the source of the beam she had cast, but it had been coated in enough of her blood that nothing could be determined.

She had left nothing behind, hardly even an imprint in the grass where she sat. The gravestone was old, and he finally decided to look at the name. It was already in his visual recording, whoever went looking would be able to find it. It dated back fifty years, before parahumans even existed. He didn't recognize the name, hardly surprising. There was no inscription, only Michael Callaway. A relation, or a grave chosen at random?

It was not his place to ask that question, or anyone's place. There was nothing more to be gained here, so he left.