Director Piggot was a caricature. That was all I could think now that I was sat in front of her, back in my base human form and my own clothes. She was clearly overweight, bulging against the just too small blouse and skirt combo that she wore. Her blonde hair was cut short into a bob, and her nose… well, there was no other way to describe it, looked just a little bit like a pig. The smell of tobacco lingered in the air, on top of everything else she must have been a smoker too.

I didn't know much about the director of Brockton Bay's PRT. I had seen her once or twice on the news in the aftermath of some big cape fight or another, but she wasn't really the sort of person to make herself the centre of attention. She emerged when she needed to, no more and no less. Why was I being granted an audience with her? Because I had just proven myself to be strong enough to be fast-tracked right into the ranks of the Wards by trashing some Dragon tech, even if it had been one of the Tinker's very first construction models.

"So, a Breaker-Master," The Director drawled, somehow sounding both intrigued and as if everything going on was beneath her. Something about her tone immediately put me on edge. "Breaker form has brute and mover abilities, while the Master element comes from generated minions, which have their own distinct powersets. Almost enough to rate Trump, that."

She levelled a stare at me, and I did my best not to squirm under her gaze. She reminded me of Principle Blackwell. Someone who would do almost anything to get what she wanted, to have control, to have power under her thumb.

"Have you considered joining the Wards, Tile?" She asked, almost nonchalantly, while shuffling some papers on her desk

"With all due respect, Director Piggot, I've only been awake for around four hours, and half of that time has been spent testing my powers against Dragon drones," I said. "When, exactly, do you expect me of had time to think about joining the wards?"

She quirked an eyebrow. There was no doubt that she was yet another one who knew who my true identity was, and there was no doubt that she had already read everything on my file. She had read about a girl who had been bullied for years, who had been brought up by a father who hadn't wanted anything to do with her for the past few years. She was expecting someone meek and mild-mannered. Someone without a backbone. Maybe if she'd spoken to me before I'd felt the power of Wingal running through my veins that would have been exactly what she would have gotten. But already there was something burning in my chest. Courage that had never been there before.

She gave me a sickly sweet smile.

"Of course, of course," She said, "But doesn't every kid grow up dreaming of being a superhero? Surely you've given some thought to the matter over the years, just in case."

I felt Miss Militia shift uncomfortably behind me, and I could understand why. Yes, every kid did grow up wanting to be a superhero. What kid wouldn't want to be Alexandria, streaking across the sky like an invincible warhead, taking down any bad guys in her path? What kid wouldn't want to be Legend, blasting opponents from afar with laser beams? What kid wouldn't want to be Eidolon, with every power under the sun, able to defeat almost any other cape with ease? But "kid" was the keyword, and I wasn't one anymore.

Kids didn't get to stay so naive in Brockton Bay, where any day could be the one that you turn around the wrong corner and end up six feet under because a stray bullet from a clash between the ABB and the Empire had pummeled through your skull. It was a wonder we didn't all trigger the moment the wool was pulled from our eyes the first time.

"I can't say that I did, Director Piggot," I replied, just as sickly sweet. "I never did think I would develop powers, so why would I waste the time thinking about joining the Wards?"

Her smile thinned to a line, I could tell my obstinance was starting to get her.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase," Director Piggot said, the pretence of her niceness falling to the wayside. "Independent capes do not last long in Brockton Bay, independent heroes last an even shorter period of time. If you decide to leave this room as an independent, or as a rogue, then we cannot guarantee your safety in the time to come."

I moved to interject, it sounded like she was threatening me.

"Now just let me finish, Tile. I have read your file, I know about your… civilian identity and the situation that you and your father have found yourselves in. As a member of the wards, you will be granted a trust fund of $50,000 a year, as well as a minimum wage salary throughout your trial period, which would then be doubled if you became a full member.

"Due to the events at Winslow High, you would then immediately be transferred to Arcadia, as is the usual protocol for Wards. As a gesture of good will, the PRT is willing to support a move to Arcadia regardless of your choice."

I let the information digest for a moment. I hadn't had the chance to think about school yet, either, and to be honest I had been trying not to. Even with Sophia removed fro the environment and taken away to Juvie, there was a definite sour taste in my mouth regarding Winslow High. The memories, the torture, the ridicule. People had seen me get shoved into that locker, and it wasn't as if the other two girls had suddenly been whisked away either. I'd never have to go back there again, no matter what happened. That felt pretty good.

I sighed.

"Can I have some time to think about this? It's a lot, all at once, and honestly, at this point, I think I just want some food."

Director Piggot nodded, "I can understand that. You've been through a lot in a very short period of time." She slid a card across the table, the gold lettering on the front revealed that it wasn't a direct line to her, only to the PRT in general. "This number will get you through to the PRT switchboard. If you give your current codename and call within business hours, they will forward you to myself or Deputy Director Renick, depending on which of us is available. Please, take your time."

"Thank you, Director Piggot," I said and grabbed the card before standing. "I'll be sure to think about the offer."

"Miss Militia, would you please show our guest out of the restricted levels?" Director Piggot said, a glint in her eye. Something told me she knew I had no real intent to call the number on that card. Something told me she expected me to go Villain the second I walked out of the door. I'd prove her wrong.

"Of course, Director Piggot," Miss Militia said. "Tile, you should leave your mask here. When we get back down to the public levels we don't want anyone to associate your civilian clothes with a cape identity."

I slipped the mask off easily, knowing full well that I'd probably never wear a proper mask like that again. What was the point in wearing a mask if part of your power transformed you into a completely different life form? That was a pretty good disguise in and of itself.

We walked back through the facility without saying anything to one another until I heard the excited chatter of kids and their parents looming from around a corner.

"Ti… Taylor," Miss Militia sighed. "Director Piggot wasn't wrong when she said independents don't last very long on the streets of Brockton bay. They either get snapped up by one of the big three gangs, or they get taken off the board in a much more permanent way if you get what I mean. Please consider the PRT offer seriously?"

"Look, Miss Militia," I started. I was going to give her some big explanation about how I didn't want to be stuck on boring patrol routes, unable to do anything to help, but I didn't think she would appreciate the diatribe. "I'll think about it, that's all I can say."

A sad look flickered across her face as if she was looking at someone who was already dead. She schooled it quickly into a grin, and with a wave, she was gone. I took a deep breath, rounded the corner, and disappeared into the crowd.

xXx

By the time Miss Militia arrived back in Director Piggot's office, she was already smoking a cigarette. She wanted to say something about how the death stick would impact her already poor health, but it seemed like such a laughable thing to bring up in a world of monsters and madmen.

"What do you make of her, Miss Militia," Director Piggot asked, taking a long drag from the cigarette.

"She's hard to get a read on, even more so when she's in her breaker form" Miss Militia replied. "If I had to hazard a guess, she probably won't be joining the Wards. She was going to say something before she left, but she stopped herself."

"Shadow Stalker?"

"I don't know if it was the Shadow Stalker situation, or if it's just a simple case of a teenager rallying against authority now that she has the power to do it, I just can't see her coming back to the Wards unless something forces her hand," Miss Militia went on. "That being said, she also seems incredibly determined to become a hero. I think, in the long run, she could at the very least become an ally to the Protectorate. I don't expect her to go villain if that's what you mean."

Director Piggott took another drag of her cigarette, "Very well, dismissed."

Miss Militia gave the woman a nod, turned on her heel, and left the room.

They'd have to keep an eye on this Taylor Herbert. Capes had a tendency to cut wild when they first got their powers, they liked to think of themselves as invincible. As if they could take on anything and win. She winced as a sharp shard of pain lanced itself under her rib cage. There were monsters out there, monsters far scarier than Taylor Herbert, and if she poked the wrong bear she would be wiped away like oh so many capes before her.

xXx

Superheroes are fit. They can run, they can fight, and they can battle unfathomable monsters that tear down entire cities. They probably ate healthily and exercised. What they probably didn't do was eat delicious greasy burgers with a heaping side of fries, but that was exactly what I was planning to do. I had been asleep for almost a month, Dad probably wasn't in the mood to cook anything, and Fugly Bobs sounded like just about the most delicious thing I'd ever heard of.

I stepped in out of the cold, kicked my snow-covered trainers off near the door, and padded down the hall. I could hear the steady buzz of the TV, and the slight snore coming from my Dad. Nothing new there. I grabbed my burger and a portion of fries from the bag dumped the rest on the coffee table in the living room and took off upstairs before Dad had realised I was even home. I didn't really want to deal with him.

I had powers.

The PRT wanted me to join the Wards.

I had powers!

I could be a hero, bring justice to the streets of Brockton Bay, help people who were ignored and left to flounder by the system. People who were like me.

I didn't want to join the Wards, and the reason was simple. It wasn't because of all the times I had been failed by the system in the past. It wasn't because the Director put me on edge from the moment she set her eyes on me. It wasn't even because of the whole Shadow Stalker situation. It was because, if I became part of the Wards, they would end up managing every element of my persona, I'd be fighting the people they wanted me to fight, I'd be the hero they wanted me to be. I didn't want to be their hero, I wanted to be mine.

I'd become the paladin who fights for the meek. The protector of those who can't protect themselves. I'd be the Vanguard of Brockton Bay, leading the fight against the gangs of the city.

I rolled the word over in my mind. Vanguard. It was what I had to say to engage my power, why shouldn't it be my name too? I would be Vanguard, the hero of Brockton Bay.

"Taylor?" My Dad said, disrupting my thoughts with a knock at the door. "Are you in there?"

I let out a sigh and tried to compose myself, biting down on the flush of anger that was already rising up my throat like acid. I didn't hate my Dad, I loved him, I just hated what he had become over the years. I hated the way I had been tossed to the side. I wanted a proper relationship with him more than anything, and deep down I knew he wanted the same, it was just bridging that gap. What kind of hero would I be if I couldn't even confront my own father?

"Hey, Dad!" I called out, "You can come in."

There was silence for a second, and then the door opened.

I hadn't gotten a good look at him when we were at the hospital, but what I saw now made my heart hurt. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were deep black rings lining them. It was clear he hadn't been sleeping, and from the gaunt look of his cheeks, it was clear he hadn't been eating either.

"I'm sorry," I said, discarding my still wrapped burger back onto the bed next to the fries. "I didn't mean what I said back at the hospital."

It only took me a couple of steps, and then we were hugging, wrapped up in one another's arms and sobbing uncontrollably.

"I know you didn't kiddo," he croaked, it felt good to hear that old nickname come out of his mouth. "But you aren't exactly wrong, either, I've been a pretty shitty Dad."

I didn't say anything to that, what could you say to a Dad who had just declared they knew exactly how shitty they had been? He pulled back and looked me right in the eye.

"I'm going to try and make it up to you, okay Kiddo?" He said. "I'll do better, I promise."

I nodded and gave him a watery smile. I wished I could believe it.

"When was the last time you ate?" I asked. He broke our eye contact almost immediately, and I felt my stomach lurch. "Dad, when?"

"I don't know, not hungry," He said with a shrug.

The anger was back in an instant, flooding up my throat like fire and burning a hole in my chest. He had flipped in an instant, just like always. In one moment he was crying and telling me how much he was going to change, and in the very next he was acting like some spoiled kid again. I couldn't deal with it.

"There's a burger downstairs, some fries too. Want me to come down and we can eat together?" I asked.

"Ah, that's okay Kiddo," Dad replied. "Like I said, not really hungry, I'll warm it up later."

My stomach churned at that. Fugly Bobs was great when it had just been cooked, but warming it up turned the beef mushy and the fries rock solid. There was no way he was going to be warming up or eating anything tonight, and that just pissed me off.

"Yeah, okay," I mumbled. I stepped back, grabbed my burger and the fries, and pushed past him.

"Taylor?" He called out, "Taylor, where are you going?"

I huffed and turned on the spot, almost ready to slap the man. "Out," was all I could bring myself to say.

He shrank in the face of my anger and didn't say anything. I shook my head in disgust, ran down the stairs, slipped my shoes back on, and slammed the door behind me. It was freezing cold, but eating on the beach would be better than staying in the same house as a man I couldn't stand.