Worm's Finest: With Great Power
Dawn 1.1

It was raining, appropriately enough.

I'd joked a few times about the advantages of being an unmasked hero. I meant it, though. It was liberating. I didn't have to change into my costume if I wanted to go flying. I didn't have to watch myself to keep from using my powers out of costume. I didn't have to juggle two different lives the way other heroes had to.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, though. There was... pressure. To do good, to be a hero, every moment of every day, and without a secret identity, we had nowhere to run to escape it. I think it hit Ames worse, though. She was Panacea, the great healer. There were other parahuman healers, sure, but few as versatile as her and fewer still who did it for free.

I couldn't imagine dealing that kind of stress, but Amy's a trooper. Honestly, she's the real hero in the family; the rest of us, all we can do is beat up bad guys.

But I'd made a promise to myself. I had power; with it came responsibility, and I wasn't going to run from it.

Today, however... today, we were going to pay our respects to the real price we paid for going unmasked. The price our family had paid.

I looked over at Dad as we entered the cemetary. He... he was never good this time of year. Not hard to see why. Aunt Jenny's death had hit him hard, and I don't think he ever recovered. I looked at Mom; her lips pressed thin, her expression severe, she grieved in her own way, and I think, in a way, part of her feels guilty.

The whole New Wave thing had been her and Aunt Sarah's idea, after all. I know Uncle Ray had blamed them.

You've probably heard the story. The Brockton Bay Brigade had unmasked, rebranded themselves as New Wave, and started a movement for parahuman accountability. It had looked like they were about to usher in a new age. Until one of them - one of us, for all that I was still just a kid then - was ambushed and murdered in her civvies. Her cape name was Fleur, but to me and Amy, she was Aunt Jenny.

After that, the movement had ground to a halt. Any heroes who were considering following suit and unmasking obviously decided against it, and founding New Wave member Lightstar - Uncle Ray - retired and disappeared from the public eye.

As we approached her grave, I noticed someone standing there, trenchcoat and hat warding off the rain. I frowned. Who would-

Mom's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Raymond," she said.

My breath caught in my throat as the figure turned. "Uncle Ray?" I breathed. I hadn't seen him in six years, not since the funeral.

He gave us a measured look and nodded to each of us in turn, flashing me a faint smile. "Carol, Vicky." He looked over at Dad. "Mark, how-?"

"Don't, Ray," Dad said, holding a hand up, the heat in his voice showing more energy than he usually did this time of year. "Just... don't."

Uncle Ray nodded slowly, then turned to my sister. "I hear you've been busy, Amy."

Amy nodded wordlessly.

"We weren't aware you were in town," Mom said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I had some business to take care of," he said. "Given what day it is, I figured... I figured I'd pay my respects."

Mom nodded. "If- if you need some privacy, Ray, we can come back later."

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I was... just about to leave anyway." He looked at me and my sister. "Vicky, Amy, take care of yourselves, you hear?"

We nodded wordlessly, and he gave the headstone one last, lingering look.

Jennifer Terrill
1980-2003
Sister. Wife. Hero.

As he walked away, I wanted to call out to him, to convince him to stay, to be part of the family again...

But I didn't have the words.

Regardless of the situation with Uncle Ray, the city needed me, needed us. The PRT had credited Lung's capture to the Protectorate and New Wave "with the assistance of a local independent hero," because heaven forbid they give Batman any credit when he never stuck around to press the flesh.

But everyone knew the truth. The video on PHO had ensured that.

Mostly, I felt bad for Huntress, but I could sort of understand why they didn't publicly give her any credit. After all, if the PRT let the public know one of their Wards had taken on someone as dangerous as Lung, even just to deliver the final blow from ambush... well, there'd be a lot fewer Wards as their parents pulled them from the program.

After that, the PRT had raided Medhall, forcing Kaiser underground while the Rising Sons and White Jade fought over the now-defunct ABB's territory. Things had just started to calm down when something had gotten the Sons on the warpath again, attacking just about every gang that held territory.

Today, though, the Empire was striking back (ha!), and as usual, they weren't being too careful about collateral damage.

Arms folded imposingly, I descended, stopping to float a few inches from the ground in front of Stormtiger, Cricket, and about a dozen E88 gangbangers.

I'd say I had their full attention, albeit more on my (now fully recovered, thank you very much) chest than I was comfortable with. I'd considered patching the hole Lung had burned in my costume but had decided to just clean up and hem the edges instead. It served as a... a reminder, of sorts. Of how vulnerable I really was, of the sacrifices that sometimes had to be made. Mom hadn't liked that idea, but it was my costume, damn it.

"Back off, Power Girl," Stormtiger said. "Our quarrel's not with you."

The thing with protection rackets is that, while people rarely get much choice in who they pay, attacking people allegedly under a rival gang's protection is generally seen as a great way to draw them out.

The thing with racist assholes like the Empire is that, sometimes, they have a little trouble realizing certain things, like the fact that the Rising Sons wouldn't give two shits what happened to a restaurant - like, say, the one behind me - whose owner had paid the ABB for protection before the ABB went defunct. To them, a chink was a chink. Or a gook or a Jap or whatever racial slur was in vogue among racist assholes these days.

"You're Nazis," I reminded them. "Do you really think I'm gonna listen to you?"

Stormtiger responded with a cutting air blade. I could have dodged - easily, even - but the blade would have trashed the very restaurant I was trying to protect. Instead, I let the blast of air break harmlessly on my force field. I smirked. I'd been getting better at gauging just how many "layers" my force field had accumulated at any given moment, and with the charge I had today, it was going to take more than one good hit to drop it.

I charged forward and swung, only to hit air. Literally, as Stormtiger had fired a blast of air into me, buffeting me back and propelling himself away from me. Cricket leaped in, and I turned and shifted, letting her kama's blade skitter down my upper arm rather than blocking and risking getting my arm hooked; I may be stronger, but enough leverage and skill can make a big difference.

I danced back a couple of steps as Cricket slashed at me again - once, twice, three times - then reversed my momentum and charged forward, my fist denting the cage mask she wore and sending her flying down the street.

Gunshots rang out, and bullets tore through my cape, shattering several layers of my force field, and I instinctively threw myself out of the line of fire, around a nearby corner.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I flew out and around again, smashing into and through the gangbangers like ten-pins. I turned and took a moment to survey the battlefield. Cricket was just picking herself up. Where was Stormtiger?

A flurry of air blasts smashed into me from above, battering down the last few layers of my shield and sending me sprawling. I gasped in pain as I skidded across the pavement. Well, that answered that question.

I rolled over, dazed, and tried to get up as Stormtiger drew his arms back. My force field's basic layer was already back up, of course, but it would only stop one decent hit...

A flurry of familiar yellow energy lanced out from the sky, smashing into the ground around Stormtiger, forcing the neo-Nazi dancing backwards. I couldn't help but smile as the source of those energy bolts landed between us. It was Uncle Ray, glowing with his signature golden aura; it wasn't a Breaker state, not really, despite appearances. I could still barely see his Lightstar costume through his aura: a wide-collared, black and gold double-breasted coat, a pair of white pants, and black shoes and gloves. My smile faltered. He was also wearing the golden helmet he had worn during the Brigade days, before New Wave's unmasking.

Uncle Ray - Lightstar - raised his hands and fired another volley of energy bolts, and Stormtiger scampered away, pausing only to help Cricket get back to her feet. After watching them leave, Uncle Ray turned and helped me to my feet.

"Power Girl?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Unc- Lightstar," I said, correcting myself. "Just a little road rash. I've had worse."

He frowned. "Well," he said, "I'm glad you're all right."

"Does- does this mean you're coming back?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "No, I... I just have something I need to look into."

"What is it?" I asked. "Can we help? Can I help?" Please.