The Mid-western United States had always had a more…widespread population than their fellows on the coastal extremes. Indeed, such regions of the country had always been known for having more crops and livestock then they did the humans that cultivated and harvested them. It was, regrettably, this idyllic, and isolated, country lifestyle that had doomed so many of them. When villains came to call, it could take hours for help to come, something that hadn't escaped notice of the worst of all. Since its inception, the Mid-West had been the favored hunting grounds of the most dangerous non-Endbringer threat to walk the world.
The Slaughterhouse Nine.
A band of murderous, cruelly and insidiously cunning thugs that killed whomever they wanted for whatever reason. Fun, petty revenge, pure boredom…to them, any kill was a good kill, and its various incarnations had annihilated entire towns in order to satiate their craving for blood and 'entertainment'. It might be an exaggeration to say that the Nine had killed more people than The Endbringers, but not by much. And, like the other S-class threats of Earth Bet, the Endbringers could at least be tracked. The Nine could level a town and vanish without a trace, reappearing months later thousands of miles away.
Let it not be said, however, that the people of the United States were willing to tolerate their evil predations and depraved butchery. Villain and Hero alike would band together to drive them off, and more than once they had been reduced to a mere pair of members, or even just the Leader alone. Jack Slash, a name that evoked fear and rage in equal measure, and proved infuriatingly impossible to kill. He had been wounded many, many times, but always escaped with his life intact.
But it wasn't only parahumans that fought these monsters sheathed in human flesh, oh no! It was rare, but among certain, more well-armed demographics of the country, the noncombatants would flee while everyone willing and weaponized would see how big a chunk could be bitten off of the Nine with liberal use of the Second Amendment. After all, if they were going to murder you all anyway (which they were), then you might as well go out guns blazing and hope you got lucky.
Of course, then the surviving members wiped the defenders out and destroyed the town as they pleased anyway, but the effort was by no means insignificant. Equally unsurprising was the fact that such ghost towns were very rarely re-settled by humans. After all, the survivors had no interest in living surrounded by the ghosts of past horrors, and those not local had no interest in moving somewhere the Nine might decide to visit again.
It was in one such town, a cattle community by the ever-so-creative name of Cattle Ridge, that an entirely different (and far more moral) group of wanderers had taken refuge. Though no one yet knew, they had wandered farther afield than anyone else alive on Earth Bet, for they were not native to this dimension at all. They were, in point of fact, from the parallel dimension most known to the inhabitants of the world they now lived in: Earth Aleph.
"Damnit, this is our best chance!" Marissa Newland, an attractive young blonde with clear, crystal blue eyes, snapped in agitation, the air around her shimmering slightly with heat. Her superpower, gained after drinking some sort of vials in this dimensions Madison when they arrived, was the create literal, miniaturized suns. A power she had to keep a tight leash on, given the devastation it could wrought, a feat that was proving difficult so far given the minute time-frame she had thus far possessed. "Between Panacea and Solace, Brockton Bay is our best chance to help Noelle! For fucks sake, they can help Jess and get her out of that damn wheelchair!"
"I know that, but we're not exactly close, Mars! We've no ID, no way of knowing how people will react to us, and we have no way to get there!" Francis Krouse, whose power (though they were still finding its limits) gave him the ability to swap two objects within his line of sight of roughly the same bulk. Lightly tanned skin, long dark hair, and eyes that could pierce the soul would have made many a maiden swoon if not for the one, impossible-not-to-notice detracting feature he possessed: a somewhat large, hooked nose. This feature had all but guaranteed that he found romance difficult, though that problem had soon been resolved by the object of their discussion, Noelle Meindhardt.
Previously a thin, almost anorexic brown-eyed brunette, she was now a somewhat more bulky brown-eyed brunette, cursed with a ravenous hunger that seemed to be growing worse as time went on. It had quickly become apparent that something was wrong with her power, and the cause was rapidly discerned to have been the fact that she drank only a half vial rather than a full. An appetite wasn't the worst part, unfortunately, for they soon found that touching her bare skin resulted in a clone of themselves, powers and all. Clones that were, without any doubt or exaggeration, pure evil. Thank God that they had discovered this with Jess rather than Marissa, or they all would have died.
The rest of the group watched the two argue uneasily, not liking the rift in their circle of friends but unsure about how they could fix it. Jess, the wheelchair-bound auburnette with the power of 'Entity Creation'. Luke, the somewhat ironic member of their little group of gamer nerds, had by far the most jockish appearance, looking more like a football player than a professional video gamer. Oliver, whose power seemed to be some sort of minor shape-shifting, though the specifics had eluded them. Cody, the punk-looking and by far the most…volatile member of the team, who seemed capable of manipulating time to some (very minor) degree.
"Look, we know that Earth Aleph isn't new to this world. I say that we talk to the nearest parahuman law enforcement that we can find and ask them for help getting to Brockton Bay. Either that, or we start walking, and that might take too long." Marissa folded her arms, staring down her verbal opponent, and Francis threw his hands up in the air.
"Or they decide Noelle is too dangerous and lock her up, or worse! WE don't exist here, Mars, and no one will notice if we disappear into some deep, dark hole for the rest of our lives! I'm not willing to take that kind of risk!"
"Well I am." Noelle's voice brought the argument to a halt, and every eye turned to the quiet-spoken young woman that had been their captain back on Aleph. "Mars is right, we can't wait to long, or things are just going to get worse. Panacea can cure cancer and regrow limbs, and they say that Solace is just as powerful, if not more so. Besides, if things go bad, we can get ourselves out. I doubt prison bars could stop our dancer's suns."
Marissa blushed lightly in response, though she also frowned at the idea of violence. She was a peaceful person by nature, neither prone to nor fond of resorting to force in order to get what she wanted. She didn't really like the idea of fighting law enforcement either, but then if they were trying to hurt her friends without cause, she was willing to bet that she could find it in herself to stop them. And while she would prefer not to risk it, instead going overland using Jess' creatures for transport, that would take time they might not have.
"That wouldn't be a bad codename for Mars, actually. Sundancer." Jess commented, tilting her head to the side as she considered it thoughtfully, and the room paused to contemplate it, before heads started bobbing in agreement. Marissa didn't love anything as much as she did dancing, she created miniature suns, and the combination sounded cool. Which, as everyone knew, was vitally important for any super hero's identity. "The rest of us should come up with something as well."
The shift of subjects, and Noelle's support for the newly-christened Sundancer, seemed to take the wind out of Francis' sails. His shoulders slumped in resignation and acceptance, one hand dipping into a pocket to withdraw a cigarette and lighter that he made use of with practiced ease. Marissa wrinkled her nose in distaste and moved away from the rancid stench of nicotine with graceful haste. She had never particularly appreciated Francis' indulgences, and she had no idea how Noelle could tolerate cuddling with someone who reeked of it twenty-four seven.
God, she wished she was home. Aleph had superheroes, true, and villains for that matter. But from the news they had seen and the conversations they had over-heard since arriving on this parallel version of their home, it had quickly become all to clear that Earth Bet was a thousand times more dangerous than Aleph. The parahumans were more powerful, more volatile, and there were multi-story monsters periodically attempting (and often succeeding) to annihilate small cities. Or, in the case of Leviathan, one of the Main Japanese Isles. All she wanted was to find a decent romantic partner, win Nationals, and get picked for the Olympics. That was her dream life, and she couldn't achieve it if she stayed here.
"I'm going for a walk, I'll see if anyone is snooping around while I'm at it." She announced abruptly, heading for the front door of the dilapidated house they had taken refuge in. Ignoring the half-voiced protests and calls to be careful, she swept outside and began strolling through the moonlit streets. Jamming her hands in her pockets, she frowned down at the road stretching out before her, feeling rather poetic and philosophical. The road to the future, which had always seemed so clear to me, was now like a dark highway at night. She quoted to herself with a sardonic smile. She had never had any doubts about herself, none that she permitted to sway her at any rate, because she had always been taught that doubt was the first step of failure. Which wasn't to say arrogance or the belief of one's own infallibility was a good idea, but saying "I can't" or "I'll fail" all but guaranteed that you would. She tilted her head back and regarding the stars, breathing deep the fresh air of an oncoming spring, a small smile tugging at her lips despite everything. As much as she would rather be home, being in an alternate dimension was kind of cool, and at least she wasn't alone. She had her friends, and they all had powers, so they were by no means helpless. Oh no, they were far from helpless, and as much as she hated violence, she wouldn't let anything stand in the way of her friends returning home. If she had to sully her hands to protect the people she loved…well, there were worse causes.
She would avoid it if possible, of course. That was one reason she wanted to go to Brockton Bay. Though it had more villains than any other American city, that very swelling of the criminal world is what had ensured the city reached a balance of sorts. A perpetual cold war, and under the protection of the PRT or of Seraphim, she and her friends would be safe and violence-free until they found someone who could send them home.
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"You wanted to talk to me, my King?" Charlotte's soft voice drew Taylor away from her homework, and she glanced up to see her friend and Pawn looking down demurely at the floor from where she stood in the 'entrance' to the library section of their base of operations.
"You don't have to call me that all the time, Charlotte." Taylor responded for what felt like the thousandth time, and Charlotte shrugged imperceptibly without removing her eyes from the ground. Sighing, Taylor asked her to take the chair directly opposite her own. After the other girl was seated comfortably, she continued. "I'm going to be blunt, my friend: do you have feelings for me?"
"Geez, talk about putting a girl on the spot…" Charlotte grumbled softly to herself, but she nodded nonetheless and responded in a louder tone of voice. "I love you, Taylor. I always have, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
"…wow, okay. I wasn't expecting a declaration of love." Taylor blinked, to shocked to be embarrassed in that moment. "We barely know each other, you can't possibly…wait, what do you mean, you've always loved me? We've only known each other for, like, a year!"
"We were always going to be together. I was always going to be a member of your Peerage. My mom raised me on stories of Annette, of who and what she was. I always knew that someday I would help you as intimately and loyally as my mom served yours. I've spent my entire life getting ready."
"That's…" Taylor couldn't help but feel fear and revulsion mingled within her heart. Was any of the affection, any of the friendship, any of the loyalty and faith in her anything more than the result of a lifetime of brainwashing?
"NO! God, no, Taylor!" Charlotte shouted, and Taylor realized she had spoken aloud. "I'm not brainwashed, or, or raised in some sort of cult! We didn't worship your mother or anything like that, we just really respect her. I mean, for God's sake, she was cast out of Heaven for trying to help Humanity! Granted, her version of helping was, at the time, a direct assault on Free Will and was explicitly forbidden by Our Father, but that's not the point!"
"Quite a few people would argue that it is." Taylor commented dryly, mind racing as she parsed out what Charlotte was saying. "So, it's just hero-worship?"
"I guess? I prefer to think of it as a deep and abiding respect for someone who sacrificed everything to do what she believed was right for the benefit of what amounted to an enormous number of younger siblings?" Charlotte managed to make her response sound like both a question and a statement in the same breath, which was mildly impressive on some level. "I mean, yeah she kind of assumed she knew better than God, but I guess it's the thought that counts. So did He, or at least your mom always thought so."
"Mmh, I remember her mentioning that in her journals. She always thought that the reason the original Grigori became Fallen instead of Devils like the The Morningstar was because of the difference between their causes for disobedience." Taylor bobbed her head in understanding and agreement, before discarding the line of dialogue with a flick of her fingers to refocus on the more immediate subject of discussion. "It's important to me that you decide how and why you really feel about me, Charlotte. I'm not rejecting you or your feelings, but until you can tell me- convince me - that you care for the Taylor standing before me rather than the Taylor your mother's stories led you to expect, I can't be anything more than your friend and King."
Frowning in unhappiness, Charlotte inclined her head in acquiescence and withdrew, mind already mulling over her King's words as instructed. She knew her feelings for Taylor were genuine, but was the half-Fallen right that the choice had been taken from her by the manner in which she had been raised? She had certainly never thought about it before, really, because why should she? When she and her mom had finally met Taylor, she had discovered that (understandable and brief grumpiness aside) the girl she had spent most of her life preparing to be a friend and comrade to was exactly what she had always expected. Kind, generous, protective, sweet, loyal, and utterly gorgeous. She might occasionally be a little…random, capricious even, such as that entire situation with Rune and Purity, but making off the cuff decisions was hardly rare for teenagers, fully human or not. Besides, she trusted Taylor's insight when it came to things like that.
Maybe her mother's vocal preferences for women had influenced her own taste in partner. Maybe her mother's frank and embarrassingly open approach to sexuality and other 'adult activities' had made her more willing to acknowledge and express her own feelings. Those things very well might be true, she mused to herself, but even so that meant very little. She didn't have to love Taylor anymore than Emma did. There was no coercion, no insurmountable force pushing her into something against her will. She might have been placed in a situation where she was more agreeable to such feelings, but those feelings were her own.
Nodding firmly to herself, she headed over towards her Spell-Forge. She had work to do, instructions to carry out on Taylor's behalf, and by God those Power Limiters would get forged. They would be forged, and she was going to add a couple surprises to them as well. Let the villains rescue their compatriots from justice, as they always did. The rescues would be powerless and their every movement would be constantly tracked, exposing safe houses, meeting places, and the like. What else could she work on…hmm, perhaps she could try and duplicate the power of that choker Taylor hadn't made use of yet. God knew that her King didn't need the artifact yet, there wasn't anything in Brockton Bay that would necessitate it's not-insignificant defensive powers.
A smooth gesture, well-practiced at his point, woke her tools from their slumber. Runes glowed with eldritch energy, and she smiled to herself as she took up her hammer and turned to the anvil. There was peace here, in the monotony of the forge. In the steady rhythm of the pounding tools, the shaping of metal and magic. Here and now there was no doubt, no confusion, no anxious contemplations of her romantic future.
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"Well, I don't see anyone acting particularly suspicious, but what the hell do I know. I'm not exactly a cop or a secret agent." Parian grunted, peering through the dollar-store binoculars she had acquired for a little pre-meeting observation at the poorly-lit park Canary had invited The Holy Trinity to meet her in. "And the fact that it's the middle of the night doesn't help. Why did you not insist on meeting during the daytime, again? You gave me a reason, but it was so ludicrous I seem to have forgotten it."
"For one thing, they're still in high school and didn't opt for online classes like I did." Canary responded dryly from where the blonde singer sat beside her. "For another, I don't think a public meeting between us would be a good idea just yet. They're already getting a lot of flack from people, and if anyone knew we were meeting up and chatting they would catch a lot more."
"Ah, yes, there it is. You realize, of course, that if anyone spots you meeting them in an out-of-the-way park at," Parian paused a moment to glance at her watch. "quarter past eleven, it will look even worse? I mean, really Canary!"
"Ah, its fine. We weren't in costume when we left, so no one should have realized who we were. That means no paparazzi or creepy fan stalkers lurking in the bushes to plaster the lurid details of our nightly affairs all over the headlines!" her friend reassured her airily, and Parian had to concede that much. It was still a stupid plan, but it was true that no one would have any reason to follow the two of them all the way out here. Or, at least, no one that wouldn't have already tried to kidnap, rape, or mug them by now.
"That doesn't mean this isn't a terrible idea." she grumbled with a sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. Honestly, her friend could be such an idiot sometimes, but a loveable one still. At least she had been smart enough to bring Parian along for backup.
Unbeknownst to either of the Rogues, they weren't the only ones within earshot of one another, and they weren't the only ones watching the park either. The person listening and watching was not, in fact, those members of the independent hero group that they had come expecting to meet, but rather a single, truly independent individual. An individual who had not followed them there, but rather had discovered the meeting in another way entirely.
Sophia Hess, clad entirely in black clothes from Target or a Halloween store, was crouched behind a massive roof-mounted ventilation unit, hands clutching the grips of her twin miniaturized crossbows. She had followed Taylor and Co. here, having taken to following them whenever possible, in the hopes that they would give her the proof (or the opportunity) to remove the threat they represented by whatever means necessary. It had given her quite a scare when the two Rogues had clambered up onto the roof via the long, somewhat precarious fire escape, but what she had overheard after their arrival had gripped her heart in a fist of ice.
They were voluntarily meeting with Hebert!
She couldn't believe it, and it was terrifying. Canary was a known Master, even if she never actually used her power on anyone, and Parian was (while less famous than a pop idol) plenty well known within The Bay and its surrounding suburbs. It looked as though Purity wasn't Hebert's next target after all…or perhaps the Master was taking advantage of a golden opportunity? That was certainly possible, because Hebert was far from stupid. Unlike these two bitches, apparently, who despite their (or at least Parian's) entirely accurate misgivings had still shown up! She wasn't entirely sure she would save these idiots if not for the fact that leaving them as they were would only make Hebert stronger and more dangerous, and she wasn't stupid enough to let that happen!
Still, this provided a pretty significant opportunity of her own. Taylor-no, Hebert,- and her friends (Minions, damnit!) were primarily Blasters, which as a general rule meant they didn't have any durability worth writing home about. If she could get in close and hit Hebert with a few crossbow bolts, this whole nightmare would finally be over.
And Taylor will be dead…
She snarled mentally, shoving the thought into the recesses of her mind with (unfortunately) practiced ease. Everything she knew about the ravenette was a lie, dammit! She was evil, a Master bent on controlling everyone around her! Any feelings of, of, friendship that she might feel for the angel-esque parahuman were entirely due to the other girl's mental manipulations. Taylor was evil, Charlotte and Emma were brainwashed slaves, and Sophia was the only one who could stop them! She was sure of it! There was no place for doubt! No room for hesitation! She would do what had to be done!
Her resolve reaffirmed (not that it had faltered for even a moment, of course!), she stealthily moved toward the rim of the roof, now vacated by the people she was here to save from themselves, as they moved towards the park with thinly-veiled nervousness. While she would be using her power to move in for the kill and to phase her bolts into her targets, she wasn't quite ready to sacrifice this vantage point, especially since said targets hadn't even arrived yet.
Of course, she would have to move in the moment they became visible, because she would be utterly incapable of either hitting them or overhearing them from this distance. Her weapons of choice were quality-made, but miniature crossbows had a range somewhere between forty and fifty yards at best. Half a football field wasn't too bad, but she had to make sure her alpha strike was on target, and that meant closing the range. Fortunately, the last portion of distance could be done in her Breaker form. That would make the ambush all the more surprising, and therefore effective.
Naturally, she had no idea just how surprising the events of that night would be, but then self-confidence and a belief that her actions were justified were not traits that were lacking in the young woman's psyche. Quite the opposite, in point of fact, to the point where most would be rather concerned about her…stability in life. Fortunately for her peace of mind, it took only another fifteen minutes for targets to arrive, ending the monotony before any uncomfortable thoughts could resurface from the dark, not-as-deep-as-it-used to be corner of her mind that she had shoved them into.
Seamlessly shifting into the black, smoke-like cloud that was the physical effect of her power, she moved through stone and steel to the ground and started to creep her way towards the five conversant girls, booted feet quiet on the macatum with the ease of long practice. She might enjoy putting the fear of God into her prey, of letting them know she was coming for them, but she wasn't above learning to utilize stealth for necessary moments like this. It had taken time, but the concept was simple enough to learn and easy to execute when only had smooth pavement and grass to contend with. She had little doubt that she would be incapable of a similar stealth display in, say, the woods. Sticks, fallen leaves, animals spotting her…no, she doubted she could do quite so well in such a situation.
"…urprised that you were willing to meet us in so private a manner. Gratified, of course, but I fully expected to be meeting you publicly in broad daylight. I had planned to put on something of a show afterwards, as a matter of fact. Another twig on the nose of the PRT, as it were." Hebert's voice was soft and amused as she settled in to spy and prepare her attack.
"Ah, well, I didn't think it would be a good idea to push quite that far. Your generosity in giving us a carte blanche to make the arrangements was very appreciated, and I didn't want to spoil it by giving anyone even more of a reason to bash on you guys. Or me, for that matter. God knows people would have had you under my thrall before the hour was up if we met publicly, evil Master that I am."
"Well, we certainly appreciate the forethought and the delicacy with which you wanted to treat the situation. In the future, feel free to meet us in the open, we have little reason to care what bigoted idiots have to say and even less to be concerned about you Mastering us." Hebert's amusement grew even more pronounced at the final words, and Sophia stifled a scoff in response. Of course she wasn't worried about getting Mastered, the pair were probably halfway under her thrall already!
"Oh? Interesting. You either have a lot of faith in me, or you know something I don't." Sophia could practically here the eyebrows being raised on Canary and Parian, and couldn't help but be a little curious herself. Sure, Hebert probably was already working them over, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe there was more to The Trinity than she thought?
Not that it would matter in the end.
"Some of column A, a dash of column B." Artificer drawled playfully, and Sophia could definitely picture the smirk on her face. She knew enough about Charlotte to recognize the girl's attitude, Stranger effect or not, even if she had already known from her observations of them their identities. "We do believe in your restraint, most certainly, given your ridged adherence to your self-made code of conduct and your hatred for The Fallen. A hatred we are certainly beginning to share. The things that they have said to My King online…"
"Invited you all to join their family and 'take your rightful place', did they? Some crude commentary about creating a 'next generation of loyal servants to the Lords of Armageddon', perhaps?" the scathing words were received by disgusted sounds of agreement, and despite herself Sophia couldn't help but feel a moment of solidarity with the other girls. The Fallen were monsters, suspected not only of countless murders and thefts, but also of abductions of parahumans for, well, breeding. While two parahumans having a child didn't guarantee the child would have power, it increased the likelihood significantly. Probably made the sick fucks feel oh so very impressive too, the bastards. And that didn't even begin to get into their worship of the fucking Endbringers. Honestly, the only thing that could be worse is a cult dedicated to worshipping the Slaughterhouse Nine.
"The Fallen are inconsequential. Pests at best, to be crushed at leisure when our home is safe." Hebert's voice was harsh, now, her loathing sufficient to drown out the confidence she had in her ability to carry through on her statement. "Once Brockton Bay and its people are safe from the likes of Lung and Kaiser, Heartbreaker and The Fallen will find me upon their threshold."
There was the darkness that Sophia had known lurked within the girl, no matter how veiled she kept it, how pure she portrayed herself. Confidently passing sentence upon those she considered beneath herself, those she believed unworthy of life. She thought herself God, Sophia could tell that much with little effort.
The irony and hypocrisy, as well as willful self-deception, inherent in this thought process went utterly unnoticed. This was, perhaps, unsurprising given the inherent brokenness with which Sophia lived her life, and the rather skewed way with which she viewed it and the world at large. Left unchecked, this bizarre concept of existence and purpose could have turned her into nothing short of a monster, a villain in all but name.
Tightening her grip on her crossbows, she took a deep breath and steeled herself to attack. To kill someone that, despite all of her efforts to the contrary, she still admired and considered something very close to a friend. Someone who had the drive to actually do something about this city's problems. She shook her head viciously, forcing such thoughts away. She couldn't allow as single moment of weakness or empathy, she couldn't allow herself to think too deeply on Tay…her target.
No room for doubt, no room for empathy, no room for anything but blood. She chanted to herself, totally not trying to psych herself up for the coming events. Unfortunately for her (or so she would believe for the time being, anyway), by the time she managed to force herself into the proper frame of mind, her golden opportunity had passed. Canary and Parian were leaving, and the Trio were watching them leave. No longer was Hebert distracted and vulnerable, but rather preparing to leave for home and saying her farewells.
"I'll see you both on the morrow. Get home safely and try to avoid drawing to much attention. We don't want anyone tracking us home and unmasking us. It would be bad for everyone involved." Taylor was telling the other two as she hovered a foot or so off of the ground. "My dad's pulling a 48 to find some work for his people, so come by as early as you like."
A handful of niceties were exchanged, and Sophia had the dubious pleasure of seeing Hebert blush as Charlotte made some rather sly and flirtatious comments before the group split, taking to the air and heading for their various homes. Smiling grimly to herself at the unexpected windfall she had just overheard, Sophia followed Taylor as quickly as she could. It didn't take long for the flyer to outstrip her, given both the lack of obstacles and inborn speed, but Sophia had long since learned the home address of The Dockmaster and his daughter.
An hour later, and Sophia was perched in the only tree in Taylor's yard, a tree that fortuitously gave her a perfect view into her fellow ravenette's bedroom. A fact that Hebert seemed utterly unaware of, as she padded into view utterly nude and with the glistening skin of the freshly showed, toweling her hair with a surprising amount of roughness. Sophia couldn't help a stab of envy as she compared her own form to that of Taylor. Sophia knew that she was attractive, intellectually. She was fit, her skin was smooth and had a dark complexion that many boys (and more than a few girls) seemed to find exotically alluring, and her breasts and ass were both of good size and fantastic firmness. Yet, despite this knowledge of her own attractiveness and sexuality, she felt remarkably plain in comparison to that which she was currently…observing.
She blushed darkly beneath her mask and unconsciously leaned forward as the statuesque woman -and a woman she was, with a body like that, regardless of her age- began to towel herself off, taking her time and almost seeming to dance as one motion smoothly flowed into another. Firm breasts swayed and bounced, and she found herself with a suddenly dry mouth as one long, flawless leg (the one closest to her, as it happened) was raised to rest on the footboard of the bed. There were shadows enough to prevent Sophia from getting an unimpeded eyeful, but somehow that made things all the more alluring.
She kept watching as Taylor finished drying herself off and dressed in a t-shirt and short-shorts before sliding into bed. Shaking her head, distinctly aware of the dampness in her panties (obviously sweat from the exertion of remaining crouched uncomfortably in a tree) and the soreness of her limbs, she Broke and coalesced back on the ground. Glancing up at Taylor's window, she started to jog back towards her own home. She could always kill Taylor tomorrow night, after all.
Or so she thought.
The next night, as she stared down at the sleeping, rumpled form of someone she loved (hated) and respected (feared), a large combat knife clenched tightly in one hand. She could, should, do it right now. One stab, straight to the heart, and Taylor would be gone before the pain could even register. No suffering, no anguish, no sorrow. Just…peace. And yet, the longer she looked down at the other girl, the more impossible it became to move. The more she remembered of Light, of the joyful moments she had never quite been able to avoid feeling when in The Trinity's company. The jokes over the lunch, the cooperation on school work, the times they stood up for victims of bullying or cowed the sneering members of the Empire that bothered her daily. The passionate views on Justice, Faith, and Righteousness. The wrathful condemnations of villains and apathetic heroes alike, and the burning desire to make the city and the world a better place. That couldn't have all been a lie, couldn't have been entirely a façade! No one could speak the way Taylor, Charlotte, and Emma did if they didn't believe in what they were saying! So, which were they: cruel Master and her brainwashed tools, or dear friends that happened to be powerful and fervent heroes?
Gritting her teeth, eyes damp with shame and relief mingled, she turned tail and fled, bursting into smoke and dashing away into the night. Her resolve and belief, confronted with two equally certain and believable versions of Taylor Hebert, had broken. She was a failure of a hero, too concerned with wishy-washy nonsense to even make up her mind about someone's nature, never mind mete out justice upon the deserving. She was weak, too goddamn weak to do what had to be done even if she could figure out whether it had to be done at all! How could she be a hero if she was so easily swayed by doubts and personal affections?
So intent was she on fleeing, so blinded was she by self-flagellation and tears of confusion, that she did not notice the Taylor in bed shattering like glass into shards of light that dissipated into thin air. She neither saw nor heard the real Taylor following her, and she certainly didn't notice Taylor watching her as she crawled into her own bed and cried herself to sleep.
"Oh, Sophia. I knew I should have probed deeper long ago. How long have you suffered like this, I wonder?" the Nephilim sighed sadly as she gazed at her friend, both body and soul stained by pain and confusion and an overwhelming lack of Faith. Faith in herself, faith in others, faith in the world, Faith in God…all were absent. For all Sophia considered herself a strong girl, a warrior, a hero in the shadows, she was at her core a broken person desperately trying to fix the world because she didn't know how to fix herself. Pouring everything she had into fixing the cracks and holes in the world, either unaware or in denial that every reckless action expanded her own just a little bit more. She would shatter entirely, before long, unless someone coaxed her from the cratered bunker of her psyche into the realization that she was only harming herself. That she could be greater and do more for the world if only she had the courage and the will to change and try.
A quick sparkle of power and a glimmer of Light soared from a pointed index finger to wrap around the sleeping young woman like a golden cocoon before fading, and Taylor smiled a little as Sophia's breathing eased immediately a small, almost childlike smile of contentment grew on the athlete's face. It was not something she preferred to do, as it felt far too much like Mastering someone, but if anyone needed a little Light and Hope pushed into them right now it was Sophia.
"I'll see you in the morning, Soph, and then we'll see about lightening your Burdens a bit." She promised quietly before soaring away.
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So, Sophia has oddly voyeuristic tendencies, a semblance of morality and human decency that she is (foolishly) attempting to crush in a (deluded) belief that it makes her a bad hero. Well, I can promise you that her suffering will be over soon. Not to say she will be joining the Peerage anytime soon, but she will at least receive some mental relief and help. Oddly enough, the original version of this chapter had her attempting to assassinate Taylor in the middle of the conversation between the trio, Parian, and Canary. Then it occurred to me that she would probably try something a little more cunning if given the choice. She's unstable and emotionally damaged, but she isn't (despite what the fandom does with her character) a brainless moron. She never would have gotten away with a lot of the stuff she did (like keeping lethal rounds, etc) if she was entirely without cunning.
In case it wasn't clear, this story is not intended to be anything remotely considered short. My outline has hit chapter twenty as of me writing this sentence and is barely out of what I could consider the introduction. This story is intended to be big, detailed, and complex. Real life doesn't throw enemies at the heroes one at a time, and villains don't politely wait their turn for their predecessors story arc to end so they can start their own.
If things don't make sense to you yet, if something seems randomly placed in the story without cause, wait and watch. Everything will become clear in time. I do ask that you speculate or debate on the forums, though, because to see people doing so is immensely gratifying and deeply enjoyable. I especially enjoy it when people begin making accurate predictions about the story, because it shows they are finding the valuable threads.
As always, please consider supporting me o for various rewards. I am also considering taking paid commissions for dead story updates or new stories entirely. As always, edit the TV Tropes page to your heart's content!