Chapter 2

Agent Howard opened the door for my dad. He took one look at me in the hospital bed and freaked.

"I thought you said she was ok!" he yelled. "What happened? Is she going to be all right? He hurried to me and took my hand.

"Dad," I said. I was dressed in a hospital gown. My clothes had been torn in the fight and the medics wanted to have better access to me. "I'm going to be ok. They need to check a few things out, but I'm going to be ok."

He reached down to touch my face. His hand was hot. I know he hated hospitals. That was one of the reasons I was ok with them bringing me here instead of Brockton General or one of the others. They reminded both of us of Mom. "What happened?"

"Your daughter was caught up in a parahuman incident on the Boardwalk," Howard explained. "The stress of the incident …"

"Incident! I was set up and attacked. The Enforcers almost beat me to death. If I hadn't changed I'd be dead." I pounded my fist on the steel railing of the bed. While I wasn't willing to let her smooth over the horror that had happened to me – and whose fault it was – I hadn't meant to bend the rail. Howard and Dad both backed up at this display of strength.

"Sorry," I said. I was able to straighten the metal, more or less. In a calmer tone I continued. "Anyway, it was a lot more than an incident. I'm told it's all over the net. You can watch what happened. Three girls from Winslow set me up. They told the Enforcers I was some sort of dangerous cape and made it look like I was attacking them. They wanted me hurt. They almost got me killed."

"What do you mean girls set you up? Are these the ones bullying you?" Dad demanded.

I think he was concentrating on the girls because it was the only part of the story he could connect to. Getting beat up by capes wasn't something that happened to normal people very often, even in Brockton Bay. Even though I had never told him about the bullying directly, he had suspected I was having a bad time in school for a while. Even through his depression, he couldn't help but notice the mounting evidence.

"Yeah."

"Why haven't you told me about them? Who are they?"

Most people would probably not hear the anger making his voce tight. He sounded calm, but I knew how his emotions flowed. For Dad, depression and disinterest sounded sleepy. Daily frustration and irritation sounded like a growling dog. Real anger sounded quiet and calm until it exploded.

I wondered if he realized it was more appropriate to target that anger at himself than at me. He was the one that had all but ignored me since Mom died. Sure, I didn't tell him about my problems where I could avoid it and played them down where I couldn't. But he didn't ask, and when he did I didn't think he really wanted to know. He was having so much trouble handling his grief on top of the stress that came with his job. I didn't want to add to that. I could handle the trio and the school on my own.

Now I needed to come clean. It was too much to try to hide anymore.

"Sophia Hess," I started listing. Howard jerked just a little at the name. I filed that away. "Madison Clements, and … Emma Barnes."

"Emma?" he said, confused. "Emma's been bullying you? I knew you hadn't been spending time with her at the house. I just figured you were seeing each other at school that maybe your relationship had changed. That happens sometimes."

"It changed, alright, overnight!" I snapped. "When we started at Winslow she was so different. She hated me and I still don't know why. She has her new friends and they've done everything they could to make my life a living hell. This was just the latest crap. Would have been the last, if I hadn't - what was the term Armsmaster used? Triggered?" I aimed this last to Howard.

She nodded slowly. "Sometimes, very rarely, when a person is under tremendous stress or in serious danger something happens and they gain powers, becoming a parahuman. We call this sort of episode a trigger event. That's what happened to you."

"And now you've got powers?" Dad asked.

I nodded.

"What powers?" he pressed.

"The strength is obvious. Also, she is healing at an accelerated rate. There is evidence of other abilities, the full extent of which we just don't know at this point," Howard interjected. I looked at her, but decided I was interested in what she had to say. I knew Dad wasn't going to promise anything on my behalf without talking to me first. In his job, he negotiated with some pretty powerful people. He wasn't going to let us get railroaded.

"The PRT is continuing to investigate the events of the day to determine the chain of events that led to your daughter's injuries. In the meanwhile, we would like to offer your daughter the opportunity to partake of our power testing capability. As you have seen," she gestured at the table, "she doesn't know the extent of her strength or other powers. It would benefit her and you for her to find out as much as she can. We may also be able to offer training and other support, depending on the outcome of the tests."

Dad looked from Howard to me and raised an eyebrow. I nodded.

"Fine," he informed the PRT agent. "Taylor will undergo your testing, but not until she is fully healed. And we want copies of all data and recordings, both from the medical exams and the power testing – as well as the information from your investigation into the attack on Taylor at the Boardwalk."

Howard looked like she was about to protest, but after thinking for a minute, nodded instead.

"Good," Dad said. "If she is medically able, I'd like to get my daughter home now. We can schedule the power testing for later in the week. I want to make sure she's ok first."

"Actually Mr. Hebert, there may be an issue there," Howard said slowly. "Taylor's identity was publicly revealed during her trigger event. The incident - "

I cleared my throat meaningfully.

"That is, the attack on Taylor was live cast on the net and videos have now circulated on many sites. Unfortunately, several sources have identified her by name. That means it may not be safe – for either her or you – to go home at this point. Gangs often act quickly in an attempt to recruit any new cape that becomes known, either voluntarily or not. While the 'unwritten rules' suggest it is inappropriate to target a cape in their secret identity, or at their home, not all criminals follow this thinking. We have directed BBPD resources to your home address, but that may not be enough. Indeed, it may draw just the sort of attention you most want to avoid."

"Where does that leave us?" I asked. I wasn't surprised by what she had said. I had suspected something like it when I realized I had been outed.

"The PRT is willing to provide alternative accommodation to both of you for a short while," the agent replied. "This will allow you to consider your options. It may also give us time to spread the word that you're under PRT protection, forestalling any unpleasantness from the villains."

"Can I at least go home to pack a couple of bags?" Dad was getting closer to an eruption and he had a new target, even if she was just the messenger.

"I'll send a couple of agents with you, just in case." She smiled as if we had bought whatever she was selling.

"Are you going to be ok here until I get back?" Dad asked, taking my hand in his. I very carefully did not squeeze. I needed to get a handle on my strength before I hurt someone. I'd be especially upset if it was Dad.

"Yeah," I assured him. "I'm just going to rest here for a while. I'm sure they'd like to see how my regeneration works as part of the power testing."

"Alright. Just don't sign anything." He turned to Howard. "Not that her signature would hold any legal weight. She's still only fifteen."

"Absolutely," Howard agreed. "I'll walk you out. Taylor, there's a tablet in that drawer. You can use it to get online and see what is being said if you'd like. I should be ready to take you to the testing center in about fifteen minutes, alright?"

I nodded and patted Dad's arm as he left. Pulling out the tablet, I noted the time and navigated to Parahumans Online. It was easy enough to find the thread on the event. Howard was right. The "incident" was blowing up the local board. There were several posters pointing to various videos of the attack, though all the direct links had been disabled. Any attempt to identify me by name was immediately and, in some cases, vehemently quashed by the moderators. Both actions were because the mods were serious about not allowing a cape to be outed.

Checking the local news station revealed a broadcast about the attack. It contained information that the PRT had not yet mentioned. It also showed they did not care about revealing my name.

"According to a Boardwalk Merchants Association spokesperson, the Enforcers were in pursuit of this dangerous criminal parahuman." They cut to a video supplied by the BMA showed a person in an outfit very similar to mine – blue jeans, a grey hoodie, and a dark blue parka – ripping open an ATM and thrashing a pair of regular Boardwalk security guards. You couldn't see their face.

"Witnesses identified Miss Hebert as the fugitive to the Enforcers once they were on the scene. Observing her demonstration of aggression and usual strength," They cut to a shot of me apparently menacing Madison and throwing Sophia across the boardwalk. "The Enforcers moved decisively to protect the public. Tragically, it turned out that Miss Hebert was not the Brute they were pursuing as she was grievously injured in the Enforcer's initial attempt to apprehend her."

As I watched the video of the "fight", I relived every blow the stupid security capes rained down on my effectively helpless body. Why couldn't they see I wasn't a threat to anyone? After the first slam into the building, I could have been safely zip-tied and handed over to the police. If I was a villainous cape, wasn't the breaking of my bones, audible on the recording, a hint that I wasn't a Brute. Why was it so easy for them to believe Emma over me?

"Whether or not Miss Hebert was a parahuman before the incident is unknown." The video showed the brief interference at the moment when I triggered only to resolve revealing the three Enforcer capes all collapsed around me. "No explanation has been given for the interference suffered by all known recordings at this point in the confrontation. When it resolves we can see the Enforcers were temporarily stunned. Representatives for the BMA suggest this was an electrical Shaker effect, possibly originating from Miss Hebert. Several parahuman specialists insist this is the first public recording of a 'trigger event' – long discussed in parahuman studies literature."

The video cut to the arrival of Armsmaster and Battery. "The Protectorate and PRT are still investigating the incident. The Enforcers are cooperating fully."

The BMA was trying to justify the attack. If there really was a rampaging cape they could mistake me for, the Enforcers might get away with it. Collateral damage was considered unavoidable in some instances and law enforcement was often given leeway when it came to "regrettable mistakes". Boardwalk security was well known for their heavy-handedness with "undesirables". It made the tourists feel safe. A cape threatening those same tourists during the day meant they had to be seen "protecting the public". BMA was likely to push for leniency and as the Boardwalk was one of the few moneymakers in the city, they were likely to get it.

I assumed Emma had spotted the fleeing thief and came up with the "misidentification" ploy on the spot. She was always impulsive, and thought she was cleverer than she really was. At Winslow, she was able to get away with her crap because her father had the Principal cowed. I was hoping that wouldn't be the case here.

I was still pondering when Agent Howard returned with the doc that had examined me earlier.

The PRT doctor repeated her inspection, checking my arm, my ribs, and my collar bone. There was noticeably less pain. After wheeling in a portable x-ray machine, she took some pictures that displayed on the computer screen. Comparing them to the earlier images even I could see that the damage was significantly less than it had been.

"I want her to be held motionless at least through the night," the still unidentified doc told Howard. She ignored me and I didn't try to talk with her. I was no more fond of medical practitioners than I was of hospitals. "I'll check again in the morning."

Howard nodded in acknowledgement.

It was after dinner time when Dad returned. He had a bag he placed in my room.

"They have a place for me in a condo Downtown. I'm going to call some lawyers – not Alan Fucking Barnes – to see what our recourse is with the Enforcers, the Boardwalk Merchants Association, Winslow, and everyone involved. If this is going to screw up your life, I'm going to make them all pay."

"I'm sorry you're getting dragged into my mess." I couldn't look at him. My public trigger put him in danger. We might have to move out of the city. That would tear him up. He had worked so hard to help fix the city. Being forced to give up because of me just wasn't right.

"Taylor," he paused, swallowed, then put a hand on my uninjured arm. "This isn't something you did. This was done to you. And everyone that should have protected you failed you – me included. I'm sorry that I haven't been all there since your mom…"

He wiped at his eyes then squeezed my hand. "But that is going to change. I'm going to do my damnedest to keep you safe, to do right by you from now on. And that is going to start with making the people that hurt you pay."

In the morning, Howard and the unnamed doc returned. A thorough examination determined that I was fully recovered from my injuries.

"Eighteen hours instead of eight to twelve weeks." The doctor sounded offended.

"Is she ready for duty?" Howard prompted.

"I don't see why not. I suppose if she gets injured again, we can keep her in a scan suite and watch the actual regeneration process."

"Thank you," I said to the disgruntled physician. "Hopefully that won't happen." I'd make sure Dad wouldn't allow it, if I did get hurt. I had no desire to be even more of a guinea pig.

The doctor nodded and left. Howard looked at me and offered a commiserating grin. Building camaraderie with the subject, I thought to myself. During the night, I had given the PRT agent's behavior a lot of thought. I was convinced she was using psychological ploys to gain my trust and build a connection she could use to manipulate me for the PRT's purposes. That was better than outright coercion, but it reminded me they were not on my side.

"You ready to find out more about your new powers?" Howard sounded full of anticipation. Despite my distrust of her, I couldn't help but share her excitement.

"Yeah, let's do this."

She led me to a large room that looked like a cross between a gymnasium and a doctor's office. There were the standard looking treadmills and weight machines, as well as things I couldn't even guess at the purpose of.

Three people waited in the room. Two were in lab coats carrying tablets. I barely registered them as my attention was dominated by a real-life superhero – Miss Militia. She looked just like she did on the net, military camo uniform with the flag sash and mask. I was in a much better mindset to geek out over her than I had been meeting Armsmaster and Battery on the Boardwalk.

"What would you like us to call you?" Howard stopped me before we got far into the room. Her voice was quiet.

"My name's already out there. No use trying to hide it." I said. "Just call me Taylor."

She smiled and nodded. "Greetings everyone. Thanks for agreeing to work with us on short notice. This is Taylor. You'll be working with her to find out what her new powers can do."

Howard pointed to a middle-aged white woman in a lab coat. "This is Dr. Uravic. She's one of our power specialists. She'll be running the testing process. Her assistant is Mr. DeSantos." A short Hispanic man in a similar coat offered a tentative wave. "And of course, you know our own Miss Militia, Protectorate ENE 2IC."

I wasn't exactly sure what that last bit meant, but I guessed it was referring to the fact she was Armsmaster's second in command.

"It was felt I would be the best person to help you test your power negation field, if that is what it is," Miss Militia said. Her voice was low and full, with just a touch of accent. She pulled her weapon, which took the form of a short baton. I tried not to flinch at the memory of Resolute using two of those to break my arm and batter me into near unconsciousness.

DeSantos pointed his tablet at us while the hero took a slow step towards me. When she was fifteen or twenty feet away the baton disappeared. She stopped for a second, moving her hand. When nothing happened, she stepped back. A green knife appeared. For the next several minutes she walked around me, moving in and out of my range, much as Smackdown had but with more deliberation.

The scientists recorded everything. They moved me around the room and had Miss Militia approach me from all sides. They had me close my eyes, even put a sensory deprivation helmet on me. They had me lie down. Put me in an enclosed booth. Had me move towards a stationary Miss Militia. Everything they could think of. At one point, they had her go to the floors above and below us. Then they had her start throwing her weapons near me, then at me.

It was kind of fun and fascinating, for me at least. I could tell Miss Militia was getting more concerned with each variation.

The results of all these tests seemed to be the same, at a constant distance, 7.14 meters; from the nearest surface of my body, her power would be negated. Her weapon, when thrown, would disappear when crossing that seven-meter line.

"Before we start testing more energetic projectiles, I think we need to get a better idea on the limits of any enhanced durability Taylor may have," Dr. Uravic said during a break.

"That sounds ominous," I said. "What's the term – testing to destruction?"

"No," she denied with a smile. "Nothing like that."

"Well, it is a little like that," DeSantos contradicted. "More a case of testing to damage rather than destruction. It's the only way to determine how much damage you can resist – by finding that limit without crossing over too far."

"Don't worry. We'll start very small and only go as far as you are comfortable. We'll stop whenever you want." The doctor radiated a grandmotherly, aura like she cared about me as a person and would take care of me.

It was nice. I just didn't trust it. Too many people that should have taken care of me had failed me over the years. I was trying to decide if it was better to get this part of the testing out of the way – at least as far as I was comfortable going – or if I should wait for Dad to return so I had someone I mostly trusted to have my best interests at heart. On the other hand, he'd probably freak out the first time he saw them doing something dangerous and refuse to let us continue.

I couldn't let that happen. I needed to get some idea of what I could take. I decided I had to accept the risk. "Alright. Where do we start?"

It turned out to be a lot more boring than I anticipated. I was picturing being punched by Assault or screamed at by Triumph. Instead, I was laying on a bed as they dropped larger and larger weights on me or prodded me with sharp blades, pointy sticks, heating elements, and tasers. I could barely feel them, and none of them hurt.

Uravic and DeSantos were throwing around terms like "ultra-dense cellular structure" and "internal insulative capability" as well as the more worrying "negatively ramping tactile sensitivity". Mostly, I was realizing I was pretty tough.

I hesitated when they pulled out the guns. But I decided to go forward. If I was ever going into the field, there would be people with guns. I needed to know.

"Do it." I put on the flack jacket and helmet and placed my bare left arm in the brace. DeSantos took careful aim with the small rifle. It almost looked like a BB gun. A sharp crack and there was a light touch on my arm. I looked. There wasn't a mark or wound.

"What the hell are you doing!" I heard my father yell as he stormed into the room.

Yep. Freaking out.

Most of the rest of the power testing was boring but normal. No more durability testing was allowed. Instead, it was weightlifting until I lifted all their weights. Running at fifty mph. No extra reflexes or agility – though I could easily leap across the room. No enhanced senses. No flight. No lasers from my eyes or lighting from my butt. Several hours of testing showed a lot more "no's" than "yes's" on the master list of possible powers. I was a basic Brute, with a power negation field I couldn't dampen or turn off.

The exact effects of the field were tough to figure out. It turned off Battery's Breaker state but didn't stop Triumph's sonic scream, as long as it started outside the seven-meter radius. It stopped Velocity as soon as he stepped over the line but did nothing to Armsmaster's armor, even at arm's reach. I could unfreeze Clockblocker's time-locked items but could not negate Vista's ability when she manipulated the distance between us. Galant was able to mess with my feelings with his emotion beam if it was fired outside the zone. No one was willing to let Dauntless be in the same building as me – afraid I might undo all the power he had put into his gear.

It seemed all I was a badass Brute that could shut down most other capes – not the worst possible outcome. I could work with this.