She was wrong, they had something that could hurt her. Arcadia, that had been her goal, getting out and getting on with her life. They'd known, somehow they'd known she was escaping, moving on with her life, rising above them, and out of petty spite they had struck a devastating blow. They hadn't even struck against her directly. No, instead they had gone not after her homework, clothes, or time they targeted her reputation, not by calling her names, or spreading rumours.

The leather glove creaked. It wasn't really leather, but instead something thousands of times more durable. Combat Equipment, Layers of fields and barriers exploiting a quantum dimensional interface rejection reaction, filtered through her Linker Core. No, it wasn't important anymore, the trio hadn't won, they had set her free. It hadn't felt like it at the time, being led out of the school in handcuffs, the polite letter from Arcadia reminding her of their zero tolerance policy highlighting the stain on her record. None of that mattered now, a soft chime sounded in agreement from the visor wrapping around her skull.

Gesichtskreis popped up mana flow and barrier ablation rates, temperature deviation and a wealth of other information, always sorting itself, never cluttering or obstructing her vision. It was a technological marvel that she was sure would leave tinkers drooling with the possibilities, and it had spent the last two years, ever since her mother died, in the basement gathering dust. She'd never known her mother was a cape, never even suspected it, but the proof was undeniable. A basement workshop filled with all manner of strange and unusual looking tools, and a strange pendant floated in a glowing cradle. The quintessential tinker's workshop.

[Scan abgeschlossen Kaiserin]

Time to move, she dropped off the edge of the roof she'd been sitting on, prismatic shields caught her before gently setting her on the sidewalk. It wasn't strictly necessary, given her Combat Equipment's base capabilities, and failing that her own magically enhanced capabilities. Magic, you could cover it in as many scientific terms as you like, but it all boiled down to enforcing your will upon the world with nothing but a thought. Well that was a lie, it was a lot more complicated than that if you wanted to do anything halfway useful. But lighting up like a glowbug, that was incredibly easy. She had become one of those capes, the ones that claim their powers are magical in nature, the ones everyone quietly mocked. Was this how Myrddin felt? Knowing actually knowing how your powers work and facing ridicule for it.

[Kaiserstraße]

Her duster billowed out behind as she moved, side streets passing by in a near blur, two steps and a gentle kick off had her back on the rooftops. Gravel crunched lightly as she moved along the rooftops, a single step per building, almost flying. Graffiti tags littered the buildings here, swastikas' and triple Es shared space with racial slurs. Empire territory, white business owners paid protection, everyone else were forced out. Or killed. Brockton Bay, a city with crime statistics high enough to skew the national average. A place where you were more likely to experience gang related violence than not. She'd been lucky some might say, her only experience of gang violence was at the hands of Emma's groupies. She'd started thinking of them as a gang ever since their latest stunt, the way they avoided punishments and twisted things around reeked of connections. It was almost impressive, how quickly they'd ended her Arcadia dreams. Prevented her escape, laid a black mark on her previously spotless school record.

[Illegale Aktivitäten festgestellt]

A warehouse highlighted in her vision, warmer than the surrounding buildings by a large amount, a heavily armoured door that was swinging closed on a small group of skinheads. Small windows opened on Gesichtskreis's visor highlighting E88 style tattoos, along with general meanings for some of the more obscure ones.

[Hörrohr]

Shouting, cheering, the clamor of a large gathering of bodies, it would have sounded like a boxing match if it wasn't for the barking. Gesichtskreis dutifully ran a tally in the background as she continued her approach, at least thirty dogs maybe even more. Some of the sounds were painful to listen to, animals in pain. A dog fighting ring, so much for the Empire's claims at being more civilised than the other gangs. Taylor swallowed back the bile that threatened to spring forth at the thought of a dogfighting ring. Disgusting.

[Anschluss an Kommunikationsknoten]

"BBPD, how can we help?"

The operator's voice was calm and crystal clear, despite the lack of phone to her ear.
Her report was short and to the point
"Empire Eighty Eight dogfighting ring Sixth and Ocean Drive."
"Ma'am, are you in danger?"
"No, I'm putting an end to this"
"Ma'am ple…"

She cut the operator off, before leaping onto the warehouse's slopped tin roof. She took a moment to catch her breath, did she really want to do this, a pained yelp below answered the unvoiced question. A thunderous crash and breaking glass showered around her body as she fell. She landed in the middle of the ring, between the two startled and bloody dogs in a perfect three point landing.

"What the Fuck!"

[Blitzwirkung]

She Moved, and the speaker, a six foot mass and muscle and fat spun before toppling. Out cold.

[Vorsicht! Massen Waffen erkannt]

She spun, kicking a shotgun up as it discharged, sliding inside the skinhead's reach before sending him to dreamland with a casual backhand. No time to stop, she danced through the quickly panicking crowd, largely ignoring the throng, targeting anyone with a firearm, she wasn't gentle with her takedowns, focusing on speed over gentleness. The air was filled with high pitched shrill screaming as an attractive blonde's arm acquired an extra elbow, right on top of her 88 ball tattoo. A teenager with a fancy looking butterfly knife had his hand was smashed with the same kick that disarmed him. Taylor entered an almost meditative state, the moves that had before only been practiced against her shadow flowed easily, the warehouse turned from a gang fortress into a bludgeoning whirlwind of pain.

[Alle Feinde eliminiert Kaiserin]

She glanced around, finding herself the only person standing in the open space of the warehouse, the door banged lightly in the salty breeze. The floor covered in groaning bodies, only a few had broken bones, the ones that had been armed. The rest merely bruised. The dogs that had been fighting had fled into the night air. And there, in the corner, lockbox next to a huge blackboard full of aggressive sounding names, along with odds. Tickets littered the floor, sharing space with a small sea of green. Money, quite a bit of it, with more maybe in that lockbox. The reason she'd gone out in the first place. Tinkers might be able to pull of outlandish tricks out of their hat, but making the hat was more expensive, and time consuming than anything she'd ever read. Sure there were pages and pages of speculation on the next new feature Armsmaster was going to have in his halberd. But hardly any wondering how long it took to build said feature. An empowered stomp had the lockbox open, neat stacks of notes, divided by denomination sat next to little parcels of white powder. The money she took, the drugs and lockbox were dumped back in the corner.

Now all she had to do was wait for the police to come and she could go home.