A/N:

This one took a lot of rewrites, a large reason why it took me so long to pound it out. Hope your week was great!

A day had passed when I found the broken slab of concrete.

A sizable chunk, it was about the length of my body and just as worn. Cracks weaved through the strip of road, allowing wild grass and weeds to fill the gaps.

The reaction from the group had been instantaneous. I was in the lead once more, scouting ahead for the cookie crumbs spread a little too far apart for my liking. A bottle here, a shard of glass there. Trivial objects that were now lifelines.

The trail ran perpendicular to the river, which was why a crudely-carved wooden bottle, practically the length of my forearm and filled to the brim with water, currently sat by my feet. It may be raining, but we weren't going for a repeat of the last time we were without water. My tongue was dry thinking about it.

I was also covered in bruises head to toe, half of them hidden by the grime that refused to wash off. An earthy, gritty taste still remained in my mouth despite having chewed sage leaves.

Before departing from it, the river current wasn't nearly as strong as before, helped by the fact that we had been heading upstream. It had still been too powerful to bathe in, but a light shower of warm rain pervaded throughout yesterday and washed most of us off.

Key word, most.

And because all of our supplies were gone, it was crucial that we replenish what we had as soon as possible. We had taken a new routine of walking, collecting herbs as we travelled, and on break we settled to weaving new tools while chewing our food raw, wood too wet to burn.

I felt exposed. I had no idea how my armor had survived the river, but I had to adjust it this morning as the knots began to loosen. Part of me was paranoid that the armor would slip right off my chest when we walked, but the larger, more realistic part knew the knots were tight enough to withstand a bit of rain.

That didn't stop me from adding more silk.

"This might be the oddest weather I've ever been in," Weld announced suddenly, startling me from my thoughts.

Taking care to not concentrate on how ratted they were, I brushed my bangs out of my eyes and took in our surrounding by eyesight instead of my swarm.

The sun shone overhead like it had days previous, though the blue sky was puckered with clouds. Rain lightly drizzled, thinner than it had been all day. I only called it rain to differentiate it from the mist that hung over us in sheets, rising from the damp ground. Puddles littered the forest floor like broken mirrors facing the sky above, and if I wanted to, I could almost believe we were among the clouds.

The illusion was helped by Weld himself, his body covered in droplets and a light sheen of water residue. Along the harsher edges of his body, his collar bone in particular, water had collected and rippled with each step. It was stagnant now as he sat on my right, disturbed only by the occasional rain drop that slid down his neck and shoulders.

My basket sat half-made in my lap, and I returned to weaving despite the zinging protests of my fingertips.

A good distance away, Vista and Clockblocker were lightly bickering over something. From their words and the light murmur I could hear of their tone, it wasn't anything serious. Miss Militia kept an ear tilted their way, though her body faced me.

It was surreal to be among the heroes and watch them interact without having to throw a baseball of spiders at someone's face. Seeing firsthand how they ate, bantered back and forth now that the mood was higher- they became more… real in my eyes.

Wearing a cape and a mask did that to people. Conflicts, while no less damaging to those involved and affected, were given an almost unrealistic, 'glimmery' finish. It brought me back to Tattletale's description of cops and robbers. I knew better now, I think we all did after the last few months, but I was still learning a few things.

Despite her apparent approval of my presence amongst the group, Miss Militia hadn't said more than a handful of words to me since our conversation by the river. I hadn't spoken a single word to Vista alone, and Clockblocker had all but ignored my very existence.

But Kid Win wasn't as tense around me as before. He'd even given me a nod this morning. I glanced at him now, his face utterly fixated on the components of a glass tube inlaid with gold wires.

There was no telling how close he was to fixing his technology, and I wouldn't be the one to ask. Aside from the routine check-up from Miss Militia to which he never failed to answer with "Not done yet," or "Soon," none of the others had begged to know.

"I've got to say, I kind of like it." Weld said in my silence. I blinked and turned to face him, dividing my attention between my own weaving to his face.

"I like the sound of the rain," I said.

Clockblocker and Vista fell silent.

I added, "It's calming."

The two Wards returned to work, but Weld nodded. "Back in Boston, I used to study by the window during storms. Rain helps me think."

"I've only ever seen you listening to music," Vista spoke up.

The two hadn't shared words since the river incident. With one fine wired brow poking neatly above the other, he replied, "Brockton Bay didn't- doesn't have much in the way of rain. At least, not in the summer. Neither does Boston, so they're the same in that aspect."

"Spring is the rainiest season by far," I said, fishing for another pliable twig from my improvised pile of resources. "And this summer has been the driest I've ever seen."

"Several years back—ten, maybe- we had a drought." Miss Militia spoke up from her spot. "I doubt any of you would remember it. Though perhaps you, Clockblocker?"

The words were an invitation. The boy shrugged in return. "Barely. My dad," his voice sounded odd on the word, "had bought an entire shelf's worth of water bottles for the basement pantry."

The only bit I remembered about the two-month drought was that crime had increased, damaging the docks further and making my dad's job harder. The hall light turning on half past midnight was a regular occurrence those days, a by-product of him working over hours.

"Smart. He must have been in one of the first waves of shoppers. The PRT had their hands full with providing enough water for the city," Miss Militia said. "The Empire prospered in those times, if I remember right."

"Boston hadn't had anything like that while I was there," Weld said. "Though there were quite a few crime syndicates while I was around, and there are probably a few more in the wake of whatever chaos is going on while we're MIA."

Minus one, I almost added, but refrained. He most likely already knew Accord had moved to Brockton Bay.

"There's probably a few more of everything," Vista said. "More capes, more villains."

Miss Militia hummed in response. "Yes, I'm curious as to how the world is handling our disappearance. But we won't know until we reach Leavenworth, and that type of thinking is only going to breed the wrong state of mind," she said. "And with that," she got to her feet, brushing off her pants but only succeeding in spreading the dirt, "I think it's time to continue."

It was silent, save for the shuffle of our feet and the titter of birds overhead. My muscles complained against the strain of moving, but I fell into place with the others, Miss Militia occupying my left side.

Apprehension bubbled in my stomach. I should've been feeling happier, content at the very least. The original plan had been for us to team up, returning to the modern world as an inspiration for the plenty. But if I were being frank, this new lead seemed too good to be true.

I kept my mouth shut, though, and kept walking. It was unusually quiet, and it took me an embarrassingly long while to realize I missed Weld's chatter.

The metal boy's stride was flawlessly even behind me, metal limbs gliding across the forest floor with seamless effort. But his face was stuck forwards, pointedly away from the thirteen-year-old girl walking beside him.

Vista had taken his side in resolute silence, stoically carrying her tiny self forward with jerky movements. Watching the two of them walk was like comparing Dragon tech with a wind-up robot. Behind them was Clockblocker and Kid Win, dubiously silent.

I had been resigned to scouting with my bugs, idly keeping note of a doe trailing through the forest when Miss Militia muttered, "Something's not right here."

I frowned, checking over the rest of the group. Clockblocker and Kid Win mumbling back and forth, Vista and Weld stonily moving forwards. No one else acted as if they heard, and I was beginning to think I'd imagined the whole thing when she leaned imperceptibly towards me.

"Your gut saying something?" I asked, keeping my voice low. If she thought it best to be quiet, might as well follow her lead.

She took her time to respond, glancing around the trees. "It's not only that. Take a look around you. What do you see?"

I allowed my attention to drift to the doe, taking care not to trip over any roots. I knew what she was referring to.

"No predators," I replied.

Not once had I had to alert the group to any cougars, wolves or other predatory animals. Maybe it was our scent that was driving them away, maybe not, but I hadn't discovered any tracks, either. There had only been one predatory animal we were aware of, and that was using the word 'animal' loosely.

As far as I knew, I was the only one she'd told this to. "Why are you telling only me?"

"I trust you won't freak out," she said. "Group morale has been low for the most part, and it won't do us any good to point out what we can't control or understand. I'm probably overthinking it, but if I'm not, at least one other knows."

She fell silent, a small axe forming on her hip. Perfect for throwing.

We continued, but it wasn't long before something else seemed off to me. It took me half a second to place what was wrong.

"Where are all the birds?" I asked slowly, louder for the others to hear.

We stopped in our tracks, and Miss Militia held up a fist for silence, though it wasn't really needed. I held my breath.

You'd think something would have happened once we were aware of how wrong the situation was. But nothing did. I held my breath, gathering my swarm towards me as discreetly as possible to avoid… stirring anything.

After we waited for what felt like a lifetime, absolutely nothing happened. Zilch.

"We keep moving," Miss Militia finally said, startlingly loud. The rain had stopped. All was silent.

We grudgingly continued on. I focused on placing lines of hornets around the trees, weaving strands of silk above our heads. Any and every mandible, pincher, stinger was at the ready. I was ready.

Goosebumps rose on every inch of my flesh. Damn. If only we had Grue's darkness, Tattletale's insight. Bitch's dogs. Something to give us the upper hand instead of blindly stumbling forward.

We walked for another hour, and the hair-raising feeling I'd been getting was catapulted into the totally-about-to-be-ripped-to-shreds zone.

There weren't any animals.

Like hell was this okay. Either there was some other natural disaster that the wildlife had picked up on and already fled, or something more sinister was happening. Personally, I was leaning more towards the latter.

It was about an hour later when it felt like a bolt of lightning stuck my body, electrifying every nerve and shooting frayed signals down my veins. Every hair stood on end.

"Did you feel that?" I spoke to no one in particular at the same time Miss Militia muttered, "Stop."

We collectively froze, and I absently noted my baton was already clenched between my white-knuckled fists. It was dead silent; the rush of blood flowing beneath skin, the creak of tendons and ligaments, a drumming heart pushing everything forward. I heard all of it, or at least imagined it.

I was well aware my nerves were officially fried. Something was out there, watching us. I couldn't find them with my bugs and no one else was picking up anything, but I knew it. I couldn't explain how I did. It was just fact.

It was Clockblocker who broke the silence. "This doesn't feel right," he spoke up from the back of the group. "I'm not one for paranoia, but something tells me we shouldn't continue."

Miss Militia turned to face him, a sniper rifle draped across her front. Weld opened his mouth, brow furrowed, but anything he said went straight over my head.

I need to get out of here.

The thought was less mine, more of a concept. I spun on my heel and ran.

My world shrunk down to just the pumping of my legs and arms as I tore through the trees, carelessly trampling over sticker bushes and rocks. There was a buzzing in my ears over it all, marking every tree, every bush in a burning haze.

Distantly, a part of me was screaming. Distantly, I registered the rest of the group trampling after me, Weld's shouts for us meeting dead ears. But I couldn't stop. My body seemed to know where to go, full-out sprinting over the mud.

I'd heard about how adrenaline could make mothers lift cars for their babies, and I'd experienced my fair share of it. But this had a different edge to it.

I felt every ounce of pain and exertion as I slid under fallen logs, leaped wildly over a dip in the ground like I'd been training on obstacle courses for years.

Miss Militia passed me along the way, her sculpted, muscled limbs carrying her onwards. The sudden pound of footsteps alerted me to Clockblocker's approach, and then he and I were suddenly neck and neck.

The forest became thicker as we ran, branches and roots boasting heartier waists. Pained gasps erupted from me as the ground slowly turned to an incline, then a full-on cliff side. It was still wet here, and the dirt slid beneath my feet to the point that I needed to dig my fingers in to crawl up.

My breath was ragged, and there was too much sweat pouring over my eyes.

Just as I was certain I'd pass out, the sudden burst of energy left and I dropped to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings. My stomach promptly emptied its contents onto the broken concrete, and it took all of my willpower not to fall into the mess. I rolled onto my side instead, still clutching my baton.

Once I'd gotten hold of my breathing, I blearily wiped my face, too tired to care about how gross I felt. Or looked, for that matter. I wasn't sure if that was sweat or vomit leaking into my hair.

Kid Win was bent over a few feet away, Clockblocker off to the side with his helmet off, chucking up a violet stream of berries from this morning. I caught a shock of red hair before I had the mind to turn away, focusing on Miss Militia.

She panted heavily, hands on her hips while she struggled to even her breathing. Her body was the most fit out of all of us, but even she looked spent. For a while, it was just the sound of our heavy breathing and the occasional hacking.

"What the hell was that about?"

Weld came into view, holding a struggling Vista over his shoulder. She immediately stilled once he made it through the brush, and her eyes rolled back, body falling limp.

I didn't have enough spit to reply. I reached for the bottle at my side, uncorking the makeshift pinecone-stopper from the mouth. Taking a long swig of water, I was saved from replying by Miss Militia.

"I'm not sure." Her voice was rasped, and she swallowed visibly. "My best guess would be some sort of fear aura, adrenaline enhancer…"

I felt a major sense of déjà vu. Hadn't something like this happened before? It felt like there was a gap in my memory.

"I didn't sense anyone. If we're dealing with a parahuman, they're on Cherish's level," I said instead. We took a moment to process that.

For whatever reason, Weld hadn't been affected. He lowered Vista to the wet ground gently, and Miss Militia approached with water at the ready.

Someone spit, and I turned to see the back of Clockblocker's neck as he replaced his mask. "And that means they wanted us to come here," he said.

Miss Militia paused while coaxing water into Vista's mouth, taking time to brush the girl's hair back from her forehead. "It doesn't need saying how dangerous this situation is. If someone lead us here, they did it for whatever motive we can only assume is selfish and harmful towards us. I may be acting leader, but I'm not going to make a blind decision as to what our next move is."

She spoke quietly, but I heard her just fine. It was as if the whole world was made of her voice and the slight prickle of mist at my neck.

"I don't have any tech ready," Kid Win spoke up bitterly. "I can't get a sensor running. I don't have any lasers. Fuck, I don't even have infrared. So whatever you guys decide to do, move forwards or try to head back, I'm in."

"I'm all for moving ahead, though I understand if you guys would like to head back," Weld said. At his feet lied Vista, motionless.

My awareness was returning to me. It wasn't a trickle, but rather an implosion of detail; the fine textures of crumbling mortar and smooth stomata, a sizeable dent in an iron lamp post, the remains of a doorknob under feet of moss.

The cement beneath my palms.

"We made it," I whispered, breathless. Clockblocker's head turned, apparently the only one who heard me.

"What did you say?" he asked, interrupting the others. They paused and tilted their faces down at me, and I belatedly realized I was still lying down.

I gingerly got to my knees, keeping one hand on the pavement to stabilize, to remind myself.

"We're here." I met where I assumed his eyes would be. "Leavenworth."

It didn't look like it. The road was barely visible, moss and grass blanketing it to the point where it was a struggle to find it. But it stretched on past my range, further than the eye could see.

Maybe it was because we were further from the river than we'd been for days, but the forest really was thicker, here. Wilder. I hadn't imagined it. Several hundreds of feet out hung a curtain of moss, hiding what lay beyond it.

Miss Militia was the first to recover. "We move forward," she said. Her eyes didn't leave the cement. "Stick close together."

She bent forwards to pick up Vista, hoisting her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I fell in beside Weld, collecting my swarm to cover our backs. I replaced my mask as well, keeping a firm hold on my baton. Now we had our goal in view. This, at least, I was familiar with.

Weld picked up his pace as we came in reach of the moss curtain, and without pause he sliced it free with a bladed arm. As the strands of greenery gently drifted to the ground, as Weld muttered a curse, I got my first view of the town.

Leavenworth had a distinct Bavarian motif.

Scalloped eaves and shuttered windows, a sign labeled 'Wilkommen!' in red and green. Kaiser and the rest of E88 would've loved it here.

Of course, if it were still inhabitable.

Shells of buildings curled beneath the grip of vines, crumbling in places where nature had won over. The cobblestone roads were flayed with wild grasses. The remains of a diner had a pine tree growing straight through the middle of it, popping out through the roof like a gargantuan hat.

It was like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic movie.

If you looked hard enough, you could tell that it had been a tourist trap in its heyday. Above the claustrophobic crowding of nature, the peaks of mountains stood tall. Cleared out, the town would have overlooked the scenery. Probably the river we kept alongside with, too.

It had only taken a second to take in these fleeting details, and it took another to process them fully.

We weren't home.

"Fuck," I hissed. My stomach dropped. I may have been skeptical at best, and I'd sensed just as much back at the road, but it turned out I still had some hope leftover to be crushed.

"Fuck," Miss Militia repeated. She didn't look all too surprised, though her face grew a few more lines to it.

Weld took another step, and a loud snap resounded through the air. His foot had plunged through another sign, this one reading 'Leavenworth' in a looping scrawl.

That pretty much sealed the deal. This was all that was left of the town.

A sound picked up in Vista's throat and she shifted over Miss Militia's shoulders, awakening. She blinked blearily at us, her brow furrowing. What kind of sight did we make?

"This reminds me of a documentary I'd seen a few months back," Weld said. "The premise was how Earth would reclaim itself after humanity went extinct. The beginnings of it, nature growing back- that's what this looks like."

"A post-apocalyptic world?" I replied.

He looked up from where his gaze had settled on the rotted sign. Beads of water collected between his eyelashes and hair, almost like he'd been crying. But his expression was one of solemn determination.

If that was the case, how long ago did this world's civilization pass away? Were we at risk for extinction, too?

A dull tink of metal fractured my thoughts. Kid Win gripped his gauntlet, and for a moment I thought he was going to tear it off. But he scuffed his foot against the road, swallowing audibly. "What's the plan?"

Clockblocker walked past me, bent to pick up a rusted chain from under the brush. It was a locket cracked open, its contents long since lost to the world. His fingers curled around the shelled remains.

The question had been directed to our leader. Miss Militia surveyed the remains of the town, a machete forming at her waist.

"Scavenge," she said.

A/N:

It's shorter than usual, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Most, if not all of you guessed that civilization was a no-go. I don't know if that's due to my transparency or Taylor's awful luck, but either way, good job!

I think I might take a break from this story for a little bit. When I try to cram writing into my free time when I have a looming deadline, I tend to rush things and lose sight of the larger focus. I want to get a few chapters ahead before I start updating once more on schedule. I also have another fic that hasn't been updated in six months because I've been working on this one, so I want to direct my attention back to that one as well.

It might be a month or two before I update, but I'll return. Thanks for your support!