Damp. Cloying. Rancid. Trapped.

The inside of my school locker was not somewhere I ever wanted to be, not before it had been crammed to the brim with months of used tampons and certainly not after. I screamed my throat until it was hoarse and I was lightheaded from the smell. I pounded my fists against the door, hoping that someone, anyone, would come to my aid. No one did. It was too much.

And then, I was somewhere else entirely.

The sky stretched on forever, bright and blue, speckled with streaks of pure white cloud. My breath caught on the fresh air, floating above the atmosphere of whatever world I was on were numerous moons and a large ringed planet. Was I on an alternate Earth, like Aleph? I looked back down, and in the distance stood a man in shining white and blue armour, a large sword in one hand. Energy flickered across lines along the sword and the armour as he nodded in respect.

xXx

I coughed myself awake. My mouth was dry and my bones ached as if I hadn't moved them for a week. My eyesight was blurry as I slowly came to, and it was only through the steady beeping of a heart monitor that I was able to figure out I was in a hospital. Those bitches. They had finally done it, almost killed me off. Maybe I should have seen it coming, they'd been quiet for a few days so that had obviously meant something big was coming, but I'd never expected them to do something quite as bad as they had.

I rolled over in my hospital bed and grasped for my glasses, ignoring the tugging of the IV tubes that had been jabbed into my arm. I'd never liked hospitals. They hadn't managed to save my Mom, and this incident was probably going to cost my Dad a small fortune that we simply didn't have. With my glasses on I could see that my Dad was sitting in the far corner of the room, hunched over and asleep. I'd be comforted by the fact he was here if he had made the effort to be there for me at any point after Mom's death, but he hadn't, so it seemed like a bit of a token effort at this point.

I stretched, popping the joints in my shoulders and elbows. That was when I noticed it. The box I was clasping in my right hand. It was ornately crafted and felt far more expensive than anything I had owned in the past. Blue leather covered the outside of the box, and a simple clasp flipped over the top. On the front, a simple golden hexagon with a wheel running through the middle. I flipped it open, inside was a deck of what looked to be 50 cards in total. I knew, purely instinctively, I was a cape and these cards were my power.

My Dad stirred with a snort, the click of the clasp had been enough to stir him from his sleep.

"Taylor?" He mumbled, not seeming to believe that I had woken up. Clearly, my estimation of a week might have been a little on the low side. "Taylor, you're awake?"

"Hey Dad," I croaked, my previous anger at him faded away, at this point I was just happy to hear a friendly voice.

He rushed over in an instant and before I knew it his warm arms were wrapped around me. I breathed in his scent, he smelled like he hadn't washed for days, but it smelt like home and childhood and that was enough for me to relax for what felt like the first time in years.

"Hey, too tight!" I squeaked as he squeezed just a little bit too hard.

He jumped back as if I'd burned him, a sorry dying on his lips as I shot him a look that told him exactly what I would have thought about an apology for a hug.

"Water?" I croaked again, my throat crackling with the lack of moisture. IV's might have been great for keeping you alive, but they didn't do all that much for a dry mouth and throat.

He nodded and scampered from the room, probably to find a nurse or a doctor. I relaxed into the pillow and slipped the top card from the deck out of the case. The back of the card featured an intricate blue-lined design with a five-pointed star at the centre. Coming out from that centre point were lines of circuitry, glowing a light blue in the darkness of the room. I flipped the card over and almost snorted in disbelief, it looked like something Greg Veder would have been playing with in his bedroom.

The card was supposedly called "Wingal Brave", and was a high beast that belonged to the "Royal Paladins". There was an image on the card of what appeared to be a blue dog with ears like bats wings, flowing brown hair, a bright red scarf and white armour that had shimmering blue lines of power flickering throughout them. To top it all off, the dog was holding a small white and blue dagger in its mouth.

According to the text on the card, the unit could assist in battle, and if an attack is landed, it could be moved into your soul to search for a card with "blaster" in its card name if the unit it was assisting also had "blaster" in its card name. It was also a "Grade 0" which meant it would have been one of the weakest cards that the deck had to offer. Above the ability text, there was a single line, "Courage is always within you". I snorted again, I'd never felt particularly courageous, and looking at this card hadn't changed that.

None of the card text should have made any sense to me, but there was one thing everyone knew about parahuman abilities, from the moment someone obtains their powers they would have an innate understanding of how they worked. Sure, it took parahuman's time to work out the minutia of their abilities and how to use them, but the broad strokes were just automatically implanted as if they had always been there. This card was special, it was a starter, and if I held it and said the words "Ride, The Vanguard!", I would transform into this dog creature and all of its abilities would be mine. That was the basic ability I had, the power I had been granted by the locker incident, I was a changer.

The door to my room opened again, my dad was back with a glass of water and a doctor behind him. What I wasn't expecting was for the armoured form of Armsmaster to walk in after them both. My Dad meekly handed me the glass of water, unable to quite look me in the eye, and retreated back to his corner of the room.

"Taylor Herbert," the doctor began, "You were admitted to this hospital just under a month ago with what was identified shortly after as a trigger induced coma. Physically there was nothing wrong with you, but as your brain was trying to cope with whatever new abilities had been thrust upon it your body went into a catatonic shutdown. As such you were admitted here, at the Wards HQ, under the purview of the PRT."

The Doctor took a step back, and Armsmaster dominated the room, the permanent near scowl that he had become known for over the years of his service to the Protectorate etched hard across his face. I took a sip of the water and failed to suppress a wince of pain as the cold liquid rushed over my parched throat.

"To begin with, I would like to offer a sincere apology on behalf of the Protectorate and the Wards-"

"Apology?" I croaked out, cutting the superhero off. Armsmaster shifted, clearly uncomfortable at the situation.

"Yes, our sincerest apologies for the situation that befell you at Winslow High School," Armsmaster continued. "We had known that the… primary perpetrator… was on the more radical edge of activities, but we had never expected this sort of behaviour to her peers at school."

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. He hadn't outright said it, and considering the laws around revealing the identity of a Ward I knew there was no way that he would, but he was implying that Sophia Hess, the leader of the trio of bitches had been a Cape and not just any Cape but a Ward at that. I had never been much of a Cape fanatic, I'd never spent hours browsing the PHO as some Cape fans did, but I knew the roster of the Brockton Bay Wards just about as well as anyone else who lived in the city. There were only two girls on the current roster of the Brockton Bay Wards, Vista and Shadow Stalker. Vista was far too young so that only left the crossbow-wielding Shadow Stalker. Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker. Sophia Hess was a Ward.

"What have you done with her?" I asked before he could get another word in, pushing past the pain in my throat to get the question out.

He let out a long, suffering, sigh. "The… perpetrator… of the incident has now been placed into juvenile detention. They were already on probation due to violent conduct in the field, and this was enough to force the PRT's hand. When she is, eventually, let out of Juvie she will be disallowed from joining any Protectorate hero groups and her parahuman abilities will be shackled with the appropriate countermeasures as devised by her PRT threat assessment."

It was a good start but, to me, it would never be enough. In my mind, she should be locked away in the Birdcage and left to rot but I knew for a fact that only the worst of the worst ended up there and, all things considered, she'd done nowhere near enough bad to actually end up in a facility as high grade like that. Her assault on me hadn't even been done with her abilities, and putting her in Juvie was probably enough of a disgrace for the PRT and the Protectorate that they wanted to keep things quiet. I wasn't sure how to respond to any of it.

"As your stay in this facility was a byproduct of a Ward cape, the PRT will be covering all medical costs for the duration of your stay. It is also a known fact that capes… which we now know you are... become increasingly heightened when forced to confront or talk about their trigger scenarios," Armsmaster continued after my silence. "As a courtesy, the PRT will be facilitating your transfer to Arcadia effective immediately."

The conversation had gone from a good start to something that had honestly taken me by surprise. I wasn't expecting a transfer to Arcadia, no matter the situation that had led to me winding up in hospital. There had to be a catch to it, there was no way the PRT would be willing to bend over backwards like this without one.

"What's the catch?" I croaked. Armsmaster cracked a smile for the first time, though it was hidden by his scowl so quickly I doubted I'd even saw it.

"Strictly speaking, there is no catch," Armsmaster said. "However, as a newly triggered Cape with a currently unknown powerset, I am obliged to offer you a power testing appointment, followed by a position on the Brockton Bay Wards team."

He let the statement hang in the air, and I had to admit there was a certain appeal to it. Who didn't want to be a superhero? It would also help in understanding my powers. I knew I was a changer, and I knew the cards had something to do with it, but it felt like it was more, and that I was only just understanding the bare surface level of what my power was capable of. I glanced over to my Dad, who had remained silent throughout this entire meeting, and once again he tried to avoid eye contact. He wasn't going to be any help with this decision. I blew out a long breath. The power testing would be useful, and there was nothing to say I couldn't say no to the Wards offer after that.

"I'll do the Power Testing," I nodded, my voice scratching against my throat, "But that doesn't mean I'm joining the Wards afterwards."

The smirk was back, once again just for a moment. "Understood, Miss Herbert," He said, "We'll be in touch." Armsmaster turned on his heel and left the room before I could get another word in, presumably before I could change my mind.

"Of course, there will be no power testing or anything of the sort until you are fully rested," The doctor spoke up for the first time since handing things over to Armsmaster. "Panacea will be along later to deal with the degradation to your vocal cords and voice box, as well as the other effects your month-long coma have had on your body. Until that point, I suggest you stay in bed and rest your voice as much as you can."

Then the doctor was gone too, and it was just me, my Dad and the silence I had become accustomed to ever since Mom had died. Ever since that day Dad had sort of just become… absent. It was understandable to a degree, I guessed. His wife had died, someone who he had loved and cared for years before I was even born. But she was also my Mom, and with her gone I had needed someone to be there for me, and the only one I'd had was my Dad… except I hadn't. Every night after work he'd sit in front of the TV and drink, only eating if I forced him to. I'd become the parent and he'd become the unresponsive kid. If I could deal with it, why couldn't he? I could already see it, here and now, the relief on his face. The PRT and the Wards programme were taking over, he wouldn't have to worry about me anymore. I took another sip of water.

"Are you really just going to sit there and not say anything?" I rasped. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and watery. "I was being bullied for years, you had to have known, and instead you just wallowed in it all!"

He said nothing.

"And now, after all this, after I become a parahuman with powers because of all of that trauma you didn't do a thing about you're still just going to sit there, perfectly content with the PRT and the Protectorate taking over for you?

"You could have saved me, you could have made all of it stop if you'd just looked up from the bottom of your bottle just once when I came home. You could have saved me if you'd just asked why my grades had started to fail. You could have saved me if you did anything, but you didn't…" I took a deep breath. I didn't have the hydration to make tears, but my eyes stung all the same.

"I know you blamed me, Dad. For Mom's death, I know you think it was my fault."

The words saturated the air, oppressive and heavy.

"Taylor," he choked, "I never… I didn't… I couldn't…"

"Yeah," I spat venomously, "You never, you didn't, and you couldn't, that about sums it up."

I regretted all of it the moment he started crying. I regretted it, even more, when he turned and fled from the room. I regretted it the most when my voice chose that exact moment to give out, so I couldn't even croak out an apology. I hadn't meant any of it, not really. I was scared, alone, and angry and all I wanted to do was lash out. He was the only thing left to lash out at.

I placed the glass of water and the deck box on the side table and grabbed my cell phone before shooting my Dad a simple "I'm sorry" before placing the phone back on the table.

There was nothing left to do but wait for Panacea.

xXx

Across the boundaries that separate one world from another, a woman in a suit snapped her gaze up from where it was studying her notes. Her eyes glazed over, seeing not the room in front of her but the myriad paths before her. They were shifting and turning in ways they never had before. Something had changed. Some new trigger had gone awry. Someone in Brockton Bay was changed in ways they never should have been.

Eight had become five.