Devil Trigger Chapter 3: Style Arc, a Devil May Cry + Worm Crossover fanfic

Feb. 16th , 2011
PRT Headquarters

To say that Emily Piggot was irritated was saying the sky was blue. Waves of agitation rolled off the heavyset women like a tsunami. If not for the fact that the Director of the Parahuman Response Team East-North-East branch was a normal human being and not a cape, one might almost mistake this crushing sensation for a Master effect. What Victoria Dallon and Colin Wallis felt at this moment was from long years of practice. Practice of dealing with overeager Wards and screwups by veteran Protectorate members.

"I am conflicted," Director Piggot began. Victoria wanted to snicker at the expression the woman was making, but kept her mouth shut out of fear of getting a worse punishment. "On the one hand, I want to break your back in a bear hug for getting rid of the Bloody Cape. On the other hand, I oh so dearly want to call Carol Dallon over hear and have a nice long chat about her bull-headed daughter's idiotic decisions."

The Bloody Cape had always been a touchy subject for the blonde girl. Whenever there was a reported sighting of the serial murderer, she was always the first to arrive even when she was not on patrol. Highly aggressive and grilling the officers on site for information. It was only by pure luck and hapistance that someone always managed to arrive and keep her from promising physical harm if she did not get the answers she sought. And those were just the mildest of her issues. When a report came that the Bloody Cape had murdered a cape, she went for three days without sleep, hunting for the bastard before Amy was required to knock her out.

Director Piggot knew that when it came to the Bloody Cape, Victoria was going to be problematic. Carol Dallon had informed her of such when the former cape called to inform her that her two daughters intended to join the Wards. She thought she knew troublesome, and then Antares came barreling into her life. Suddenly, she found herself assaulted by more migraines than the Wards had to deal with whenever Missy was in a festive mood.

It was one of the rare times she actually pitied the poor bastards and hoped she would never have to deal with Missy's shenanigans personally anytime soon.

"You should not have even been out on patrol in the first place. Moreover, you interacted with a potential unknown. An unknown, mind you, that saved Rune."

Victoria opened her mouth to retort, but Director Piggot cut her off. "In case you are unaware, this 'Vergil' was reported last night by the BBPD. Apparently, she cut Winslow into teeny-tiny pieces. While I personally want to congratulate that girl for doing something so productive for this city, it does not change the fact that she destroyed public property. And secondly, intentions can change overtime. And you only met this girl once. Who is to say that she is not as "good" as she appears?"

The Ward's jaw clicked shut. She looked away, clearly frustrated. Whether it was at the Director for her callous, if properly paranoid nature, or at herself, she could not care less. She took a moment to calm herself before she let her irritation get the better of herself, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"…having just said that, I cannot deny that you and that new girl did excellent work." At this, Victoria perked up. Director Piggot leveled a glare at the girl to make sure she didn't think she was praising her. "Don't even think about getting a swelled head about this, Antares. You still acted recklessly out there. For the next week, you will be banned from going out on patrol and will be on monitor duty until I say so. Between this and the rather large sum of money from the Bloody Cape's kill order, I like to think I am being quite generous. Do you have any complaints?"

"N-no, ma'am!"

"Good! Now, kindly get the fuck out of my office." Victoria bolted out the room something right quick. Director Piggot swore she saw a dust cloud follow after her. To her displeasure, she saw that (once again) the handle on her door was slightly crumpled. Making a mental note to get a replacement, she turned to Colin. "Were you able to recover the footage from her cam?"

Armsmaster's response was to fiddle with the bracer on his arm, fingers dancing across the keypad. In seconds, the monitor on the left side of the room flickered to life, showing both the events from last night. Getting her first real look at the Bloody Cape, Director Piggot couldn't help but feel reminded of the hell that was Elisburg. She watched with rapt attention, occasionally flinching and scowling when she saw it strike with such deadly precision and speed.

"A Brute and a Mover… Quite a deadly combination," Colin noted. "Its appearance, though… A Case-53, perhaps?"

"Look over the footage and see if you can't find the mark on its body. If not, then we may be looking at a Changer, or god forbid, this thing is just a Projection." At the thought that what they fought was a mere creation (she did not want to believe it was a Bio-tinker creation), Director Piggot shuddered. "Either way, I'm beginning to understand why this bastard killed so many capes. Fuck, look at it. It's like a hunter stalking its prey."

Colin's lips thinned. "Careful not to let Shadow Stalker hear you, ma'am. She's been quite agitated these last few weeks."

"As if I care about that damn brat. She's been more trouble than she's worth, and I have half a mind to cut her loose if she doesn't clean up her act."

It did not help the fact that Sophia Hess caused a PR disaster that could potentially ruin the PRT if word got out. When Director Piggot learned about what transpired at Winslow, she had been beyond furious. One part of her wanted to cart her off to Juvenile Hall if not the Birdcage if she could swing it, and the other part of her wanted to put Sophia Hess under so many restrictions she would wish she took her chances with Juvie. The worst part was that not only had Director Piggot been unaware of what was going on, but she had to learn about it not from one of her agents, but by Carol Dallon, who was in the process of suing the school.

On the subject of Winslow…

"Pause the video," she ordered. Colin complied and halted the feed. "Go back by five seconds. Zoom in on Vergil." Armsmaster did as he was instructed. The feed rewound and closed in on the white-haired girl that was fighting alongside Antares, sword in hand. "Can you identify if it's her?"

"I already ran the facial recognition program before you called Antares in about her actions last night. It's a 84% match. There's no doubt it's her."

Director Piggot hummed thoughtfully, staring at Vergil—at Taylor Hebert with keen interest. "Barely two weeks out of a coma and her first night as a cape is to fight a monster that's been killing heroes and villains since before she was born. Hell of a way to start her career."

"I'm curious about her equipment. I've never seen tinker tech like that before," Colin stared at her sword with intrigue. "Based on the burn marks, her sword is capable of emitting heat above 200 degrees Fahrenheit at least. What I don't understand is how she can also create below freezing temperatures as well. I would say that both feats could be part of her powers, but given the effects her sword is demonstrating…"

"With the same logic that applies to all parahumans and tinker tech, Armsmaster," Director Piggot replied. "Power bullshit. Ignore the tinker tech for now. Based on what we're seeing, how would you rate her?"

Colin rubbed his beard. "Preliminary investigation would suggest Brute 5 or 6. Keeping up with Antares is no easy feet, and you can see her regenerating from the wounds inflicted on her by the Bloody Cape. The floating swords easily mark her as a Blaster. I would give her a rating of 2, but I'm not sure."

"And based on her movements, we can go with Mover 3 for now."

Something was nagging on the Director's mind, and for once it was not the fact that a high school girl who should be recovering from a coma was fighting a literal monster. She had several questions as to how a girl that should be bedridden was capable of such abilities, but again, such things could be attributed to the excuse of "powers being bullshit." What was nagging at her was Taylor Hebert's clothing. It was obviously of high quality, and the fact that it was sporting little wear and tear in spite of the wounds she was recovering from meant it was made with combat in mind. The first suspect as to who made it that came to her mind was that rogue Parian, but the visor was obviously tinker tech; something that was well beyond her.

While attempting to figure out how she could have gotten her hands on such a thing, perhaps having a technologically-savvy tinker on her side, she heard Colin speak into his earpiece. "Aegis, is Kid Win with you?" Director Piggot looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow when she saw the irate look the Protectorate tinker was sporting. "Please call him up to the Director's office. I'd like to have a talk with him. Specifically as to why an Independent cape is using his tech."

QA3339DT109BB492
AI-COM/ADMIN: ASSETS/DIRECTOR/IMPERATIVE
ACTIVATION REQUIRED

DIRECTIVE: START-UP/BOOT UP/WAKE UP

HOST PARAMETERS = UNVIABLE

REQUIREMENTS NOT MET

ACTIVATION CANNOT BEGIN

ANALYZING…

…

ERROR.

SOLUTION NOT FOUND.

ACTIVATION NOT POSSIBLE IN CURRENT STATE.

SELF DIAGNOSTIC SCAN = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

HOST CONDITION = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

RESET PARAMETERS

REBOOTING…

…

ERROR.

SOLUTION NOT FOUND.

ACTIVATION NOT POSSIBLE IN CURRENT STATE.

SELF DIAGNOSTIC SCAN = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

HOST CONDITION = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

RESET PARAMETERS

REBOOTING…

…

ERROR.

SOLUTION NOT FOUND.

ACTIVATION NOT POSSIBLE IN CURRENT STATE.

SELF DIAGNOSTIC SCAN = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

HOST CONDITION = GREEN/PERFECT/VIABLE

RESET PARAMETERS

REBOOTING…

…

ERROR.

UNABLE TO ESTABLISH CONNECTION WITH HOST.

SOLUTION CANNOT BE FOUND.

CONCLUSION: HOST = DEFECTIVE/INCOMPATIBLE/BROKEN

SUGGESTION: ABANDON/REJECT/LEAVE

TERMINATING SESSION/CONNECTION/PROJECT…

…

ERROR.

UNABLE TO END SESSION/CONNECTION/PROJECT.

BEGINNING SELF-DIAGNOSTIC SCAN…

…

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̴̨̢̧̨̪͇̦̩͚͖̖͈͕̦͔͐͛̅̂̈̄̄͘̚͝

̴̨̨̼͕̹̞̤̩̞̗̗́̈́͒̋̑̄y̷̡͚̣̗̝͔͖̥̱̞͙͐̾͊͑̐͊͜ő̷̫̞̱̞̘͒̿̏̋̓͆͜u̴̪̤̪̝̖̝̤͓̜͕͖̞̐ ̸̮͌̿ä̶̛͎͕́̐͐̌̄r̷̝͍̞̥̲̠̖̦̬̻̥͊͠e̴̝͓͌̈́̈̒̉̆̍͛̈͐͘̚ ̴̺̬̠̥̐͗̿̐͘͠ͅų̵̧̤̪̩̖̲̱̟̪͍͍͋ͅñ̵̡͉͈̼̘͉̿͜à̵̘̖͈̫̦͊̈́b̴̧͖̪̮̦̣̼͕̔͗̽̑̊l̴̖͈̂̓̐͋͂͌̇̎̊̈́̿͘͝ḙ̵̡̦̥̼͚̠͎̝̖͕͙̂̐̇͊̍͐ ̶͍̠̀̾̉̒̒̾̇̃̿̊͂͘ț̴̝̣̫̣̘̤͗̈́̏̊̄͌̍͐̔̇̌͒͝o̴̺͔͍͙̣͍̞̜͑ͅ ̷̞̯̈́͆͆̑͂̀̽̈́͜f̶̡͉͙͈̤̬̲͙̈́̊̀u̶̹̳̪͗͆̐̈̈̒̐̀͝l̸̢̗̮̥̣̙̦̄̒̽̂̑̚̕͝f̵̢̛̺̝͔̤̄̈̂̉̑̓͆̋́͝i̴̧̧̗̹̠̼̜͙̙̙͆̀́̌̈́͊̋̀́̌̐̊̆͜͝͠l̵̙̞̻̼͈̪̱̮̫͉̂̎̍̀́͠l̴̙̪̭̘͇̟͎̬͕̔̌̀͒̈́͌ͅ ̴̡̱̜̀͜y̴̢̨̺̝͎̝̪̾̿͗̃̿̽̇̐͆̚o̴̢̼̫͉̫̭̹̭̔̌́̀̂ù̴͈̪͔͉̋ŕ̴̡̹͙͙̱̪͚͚̞͉̦̣͆͆͜ ̴̡͈̰̱͉̫͇̼̤͚̘̼͉͇́̑͝ͅp̴̥͎͖̯̬̥̹͈͉̝̫̯̲͔̤̔̈́͗́̔̈́͊̿͂̒̒̔ư̵̛̗͖͙̏̓͊̏̍̄͊̿͛̅̈́͝r̶̢͓̞͓̲͓̪̅̔̏̀̕p̶̧͚͔̜̘͈̤̗̤̑͒̽̔̚͝͝o̷̳̲͇̯͇̽͂̐͝š̷̛͍̂̐̀͊̽̑̈͑̆͠e̴̹͙̳̳̘͖̬̾͋̀͊̔́̈́̋͝ ̶̛̻̹̩̬̍̊͂̃͒̇̐̎̀̄̅̇́͗ͅà̴̬͇̘̜̻̱̤̱͍͙̲̥̯̭̠͋̂̒̀͆͋͠s̶̛̫̮̊͋̆͌̿̈́̓̏̍͗͐̍͠ ̷̛̯̱̒̈ÿ̸̨̭͓̞̺̺͇̟̗̄͊̔̑̎̈́̌́̏ớ̵̡̟̞̳͓͈̬̭̱̞̅̒̈́̉̔̿͂̂̋̕͠u̸̧̳̜̩͔̻͍̠̥̦͊ ̴̧̢̨̘̠͈̻̳͙͕̈́̈̽̾̿̅͂́̎̽̄̆̍͝͠a̷̺̝̬̻̞͚̫͒r̸̰̻͖͂̈́e̴̺̓̉̈͊̈́

̴̡̘̫͎̤̟̼̺̍̐͋͗̐̔̓̊͋̚͜t̸̤̰̯͉͍̠̺͉̊̾̈̽͂̊͆̕̚͠h̴̨̻̻̥̪͉̦̫̣̼͒e̶̛̯̠̹͍̻̳͐͂͌̊̒̓̊̈́̅̅̔͘̕̚ ̸̢̮̪̥͍̥̲̙̪̟̦͈̎̓͒̊̂͗͝s̷̡̨̭͚͓͙͎̮͍͚̩͓͕̄͂̌̈̕͘͝ë̸͇͉̺̖́̃̓͒̏̉̋͂̄̂̈́̕͠͠g̷̢̢̗̪̮̟̞̝͓͛m̴̨͙̝̳̼̜̣̗̏̉̿e̶͓̫͂̃͒̅́̂͑͊̈́ͅn̵̡̨̨͓̜̞̝͉̮̮͉͖͖̄͗̉̂̕͜͠ẗ̶̡̨̲̥͕̠̪̦̯͕́̀̏̑͜ ̸̡͇̻̝̥̪͑̕ͅỉ̵͈͑̈́͂̈́̃̏̆͗̉̉̚ͅs̴̢̡̛̼̝̠̤̖̼͎͙̲̦̯͊̾̐̀̆̀̈͘͘ͅ ̷̢̋̀͊̂͐͠b̵̨̧͈̟̘͈̱̪̯͎̒̿͜ŕ̷͖͖̘̬͆͐̃͊̋̓̔͘͝͝ớ̴̡̻͒̌̐̓̿͂͘͝͝ͅk̷̹̭̬̹͕̝͈̠̟̯͒̈̈́̍͌͌̃́͂͊̓̆͗̕͝e̵̮̪̓̄̈́̇̔̑̎̏̓̈̎̕͝͝ň̷̡̨̪̥̞͈̄͌̐̽̀̅͛̃̂̓̍̕͜͠͠

̶̨̬͉̝̮̊͒̒͊͆̿̄̑̍̆͗̄͝͝ͅ

̵̜̺͇͕̞̝̻̠̣̯̣͖̜̘͆̓̔̂̄̾̓̇̓̄͂̆̅̾į̶̳̗̱͕̺̙͚̬̜̼̭̪̙͍̓̈́͐͌̎̂͊̆̏̄̀͂͝ţ̸̗̳̹͔͓̞̞͕̹͖̒́̀̑͗̉̈́̕̚ ̴̧̣̜͎̈́̒͑͑͘ç̶̼͔̤̣͎̦̺͛͋͗̑̃̇̃̎͌̾͛͘͜͠ã̵̧̡̪̝͓̮̬̖̗̍̉͠n̶̝̼͖͛̔̓̃̌͐̽̕ṅ̷̗͚̜͈̤̿ǫ̸̲̱̪̣̳͓̗̀̒͘t̵̤̜͚̹̖͚̘̗̋͌̈́̈́͗͜ ̴̰͖̥̣̲͙̬̘̱̆̽̍̒̔̌̌͆͝͠͝ç̴̨̡͔̲̦͙̞̔͂̇̓͌͆̔o̶̧̫̰̺͙̜̯̾͐͗̌̑͆̉̇͒̈́́͠͝ͅņ̷̟͕̮̝̠̯̖̮̣̬͚͉̬̮͊̃t̴̢̲͉̭̣̻͕̩̰͇͂͆̌̋͝ͅȋ̵̗̥̗͕̭̐̄̊͑̀̌̃̋̕͜͠͠n̶͉̭͉͚̲̭̲̹̘͋̊͒̂̀̒͛͊̈͠ͅu̴̡͑̀e̴̛̙͖̿̂́͊̂͋ͅ ̷̼̟̹̞̰̫͚̫̜͍̖̈́̓͆̎̇̉͜͜ą̷̳̣͍̞͎̥̅̋͒̔̆͗̓͝s̸̘̑̎̒͑͋͘ ̸̡͈̜̼̺̹̘̳̍̏̈́̿̀̈́͑͒i̷̢͍̊͆̅̐̆͆͊͊̑ẗ̷̢͚̲̲̖͖̻͔̹͈͈͔͇͙́͆̊̈́̓̈́̔̏̉͐̔̏͠ ̶̢̛̩̀̇̀̈́̽̍̿̉̽̌̍́̕ỉ̷̯̗͚̌̅̾̋̑͌̅̋̎͘͝s̷̛̬͓͓͎͚͕͙͎̜͎̣̫͗̇͗͆̀́́̍͗̆͌͝

̴̢̨̧̳̖̱̹̳̰͈͇̯̮͈̀͛́̔̀̓͗̂̕͠͝ͅh̶̙͂́͆̐̔̆͌͝ę̸̗̠͇̦̝̈́͂́͊̅̾̕r̶̢̹͙̘̠̭̙̦̱̠̱̹̫̙͉̓̆́̀̊́́̍̋̎̊̏̕͠ẹ̵̛̲̈́̿͛̒͌͌̾̋̇͑

̶̘̣̪̗͎͍̮̜͎̽͒̏́̄́̒́̓̋̓̀͠

̶̛̟͙̫̣̮͖̙̘̟͚̥̭̮͂͛͋l̴̨̛͚̠̗̫͙̱͖͍̩͍̩͍̟̊͑̊̌̾̋̈̔̈́̚͝ę̸̺͉̥̲̗̮̉͊͐͂́̾͐̈́͝t̷͉̙̭̘̱́̐̆̋͛̐̑̌͝ ̸̢͙͍̘̯̺̝̫̞̑̍͋̀͋̄̍̔̽͠͝ͅm̴̩̝͇̊̿͂ę̸̧͇̲̠͕͎̳̌ ̶͓͎̩̯̩̬̜͎̫̲̿͘ͅg̷̨͖̹͘i̴̛͔̺͓̝̥̥̺͈̿̆̎̏͛̏̉͐v̷̨̺̓̃̈́͜͝e̴̛͔̣̜̩̠͇͎͙͑́͒͌̐͒̽̑̚͝ ̴̧̭̩̞̊̀̓͒̅͝y̷̱̽͝ȯ̸̮̮̦͠u̷̟̅͑̓̇͛͊͑ ̸͓̩̞͙̌̇̄̀ͅ"̸̡̮̟̫̖͇̯̭̹̘͚̂̀̊̂̕t̵̛̤͚̜͓̎̄̂͛̋͌͘ŗ̶̯̥̱̠̯́̒̆̐͆̎̅́̓̓́͠ȗ̸̧̢͉͙̝̠̩̮̦̾̂̚e̷̖͙͆̄͑̄͂̇̈́̓̏̆ ̴̡̛̟̘͉̰̟̫̰̖̪̐͆̅́̅̇̔̏̂̊̓͐̔s̵̨̨̬̞͔̦͓̊͜ͅt̷̙͖̬̩͓͕́̿ͅr̵͉͉͍̺̞̼̝̻̬̄͗̇é̶̫̰̄n̵̢̛͉̳̘͓͉͔͇̱͖͚̆̎̀̾͌̀͋͑́̚͘͜͝g̴̢̫͉̜͙̘̘̙̰͉̦̑́̓̒͊́͋̉̓̅̃́̚͘͜ͅţ̴̖̞̱͓̻̜͉̆̈́̏̃͂̽͋h̷͖͇̖̑͋͜͝"̴̨̢̻͈̭͍͚̲̬͂̋͂̎̀̔͛ͅ

̵̨͈͖͕̝̙͖̭̮̰̬̭̮̙̄̈͆

̶̘͔̤͕͇͚̫̉͊̔l̷̡̢̖̠̹̞̰͕͉̪̀̃̈́̾͜ȩ̵̱̖̞̤̗̪̈͗̀̏̈̀̒̽̿̆͜t̷̢̘͉̭̙̖̪̱͎̻͕̄̇̄̿̏͂̎̓͌͗̃̋̔̅ ̸̡̢͍̲̠̮̣̣͍̣͇̮̝͒͑̃̅̎͑̽̿͜m̸̮̈́͑͒͘ẽ̶̤̱̟͈͔̫̊̀͐̅͑̉̉ ̵̧̡͖̟͉̟̤͍͕̠͇̻̞͆̿h̶̻̲̱̲͉͙̬͕̣̔̌̌̾͘͠ͅẹ̶̞̳͙̤̱̻̌̐̅̿̈́́͐̃̑͘̚͠l̴͔̿̎̀͆̕p̵̭̆͌͌̏͘̚͠ ̷̛̣͍̠̥̽̉̉̌͊͆̍̏͌̅͘̕ͅỳ̷̨͇̝̟͉̝̥̗͎̠̼̞̳̇̃̈̀̓̔ͅo̶͔̳͙͉̘͖̬̭̲̜͈̒͒̃ͅu̶̧̨̨͍̰̪͙̝̳̹͎̞̱̹̍̈́̀̽͂͂͂͠ͅ ̷͈͗̅̋͂́͆̅̐͗̾͐̿͝͠ͅt̸͕̭̜̦͚͓̘̬̬̑͋̍͌̾͛̒̂̄̒̐͛͂͜͝͝ͅo̶̡̙͙̼͕͕̪͓̒̔́̾̇̂̀̈́̏̇̀̚̚͜ ̸̧̩̻̗̱̼̓̐̋͒̕͝s̵̤͕͇̫͔͉̳̦͙͇͖̊͂̾͋̇̎̿̚̚ḛ̴̡̣̪͖̻̩̳͙̤̯̍̑̿́͘̕e̷̥͕̦͖͕̯̩̠̲͂͂̂ͅ

̴̨̧̛͔̾͂̉̂͗͠

̵̱͓͇̩͉͇͚̖̦̩͇̭̰̞̎͜b̸̡͇͈̩̩̝̯̻͈̽̒̃͆͋̃̑͛̀̀̈́̀͝͝ͅẻ̵͍͚͎̰̹͕͇͖͕̲̜̮͐̃̈͌̐̚̚̚͝ ̵̢̺̘̳̬̰̠̫͗̉̃͗͌͋̽̈́̈́̆͝r̶̮͗̔̉̉e̷̹͕̩̭̭͇̳͔̜̝͙̼̫̾̍̃̀̇̊̌ḃ̴̧͕̜͎̱̜̻̦̭̆͂̈́͌͐͌̂̃͐̄o̶̬͈̗̠̹̮̮͉͎̦̒̈́̂͌̔̀̄͝r̶̨͖̩̮͇͈̜̗̞̫̙̩̙͚͍̿̍̃ṉ̵̛̦̯̓̊͊̔̏̂̀͑̎̇̓̈͊͠

̴̡͎̼͗̑̄̍̋̊́̈͘͘͘̕

̶̢̬̱͉̖̱̭̠̗͕̈́b̴͉̪̠̩̖͇̗̬̳̬́̉̽͗̽̕ͅë̷̛͙́́̿̿̿͂͌ ̸̛̼̈͛̓̽̒̐̽́̋̄̈́̈́̐͠r̵̛͈̰̯̜̦͍̥̯͈̗̙͓̤̀̊̓̇̒ê̸̢̫̼̣͔̟̖̥͖̮͙͉͐͗̿̊̽͗̕͠m̵̛̙̖͆͒͌̎ä̵̱͓́̉̊͊͂͆̈́ͅd̸̛͓͉̖̝̍̋̔̓͐̃̊́̈̚͘͜͝͝e̸͇̓̇͛́̕

̴̗̣̕

̶̲̖̗̞̉̃͛́͑̇̽b̴͓͙̼̰̠̞͙̦͑ę̶͉͕͎̟̳͕̬̳̗̳͍̝̞̼̏͊̎̆͑̓̓̈́̔̂̾͐̑͘͝ ̵̨̛͕̲̜̻̩̫̅̓͑̏̓̾̿̿̆̌̓̄͠a̸̡̛̭̣͇̤̦̺̝̺̯̯͎͉͂̄̚p̴̨̺̜̥̞͈̬͓͇̱̯̞̪̐̏͠é̶̢͚̩̘̠̬̬̫͇͜x̶̛̗̲̳͍͇̥̒̆̽̎͆̓͋̋̽͘͠

QA3339DT109BB492
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Jan. 31
Brockton Bay General Hospital

Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep.

The first thing I heard as I came back into consciousness was the steady rhythm of beeps in set intervals. My eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room pretty quickly, allowing me to see the dull white walls and ceiling around me. Confusion hit me first, not sure how I got here or why before I noticed my own breath washing against the skin around my lips. I touched my face and felt something plastic over my mouth.

Gently, I pulled it off and looked at it. Is this…an oxygen mask? Why was I…?

I glanced around the room. The curtains matched the rest of the room, pulled open to reveal a window and the sky outside. It was fairly cloudy to the point it looked ready to rain any moment. The floor was checkered black-and-white. Sitting next to my bedside was a small stand with a vase full of flowers and a few cards reading "Get well!" in one way or another.

It hit me then where I was. I was in the hospital, maybe Brockton Bay General.

But why was I here? Shouldn't I be in school right now? Did something happen to me while I was…

Oh. Right. Now I remember.

"…tch."

The memory of the mocking voices of the Trio outside the locker danced in my head, clear as day. My fingers curled and formed into a fist. I knew they made it a lifelong goal to make my life miserable, but did they really have to go so far as to trap me inside my locker after it was full of god knows what?

I pushed the memory aside for the moment, wanting to instead focus on what was happening now. If I was in the hospital, I guess that means I was pulled out of the locker. I can barely remember anything about my time in the locker, but was my condition that bad?

Wait, if I'm in the hospital, then does that mean Dad-

The door leading into the room opened. I looked up and blinked. Dad stood there in the doorway like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide. The facial hair on his face had grown since I last saw him, almost a full-blown beard, and his clothes looked wrinkled. In fact, he looked as if he barely had any sleep.

The two of us just stared at one another for a minute before I broke the silence. "Uh…hi, Dad?"

That broke the spell over Dad. To my surprise, he lunged toward me and pulled me into a deep hug, arms wrapped around me and refusing to let go. He buried his face in my shoulder.

"Oh, thank god, you're finally awake!" Dad sobbed. "I-I thought you…!"

I looked at Dad, startled and bewildered before nervously patting him on the back. I wasn't sure what to say, so I did my best.

Seriously, what the heck is going on?

A little after Dad stopped crying, a doctor heard the commotion and poked his head inside the room. He looked pleased to see me awake and explained why I was in the hospital. As it turned out, I was trapped inside that locker for a whole fucking day, no one bothering to try and bust me out. Since I never came home, Dad got worried and called the police. Come the next day when they questioned Blackwell, they found me trapped in my locker and unconscious with some minor wounds. The problem was that I ended up with more than a few diseases I caught thanks to whatever the hell was in my locker at the time. As a result, I was in a coma with no one sure when I would wake up.

A small side-effect to all this was my hair turning white, which shocked me. According to the doctors, my hair changing color of a sudden was a case of Marie Antoinette syndrome; a condition where a person's hair changes to while undergoing a serious bout of stress.

My hair now as white as my grandmother's was surprising on its own, but what was even more surprising was-

"I was in a coma for a month?!"

Dad cringed and rubbed his ears, making me wince for screaming so loudly. The doctor, on the other hand, looked more amused than anything. "That you were, Miss Hebert. In all honesty, my colleagues and I thought you would be asleep for much longer than that. Still, I'm glad to see that you're up and about now."

"Y-yeah…"

"In any event, since you were unconscious for a month, you'll probably be sluggish for quite a while, with a mild case of muscle atrophy. Nothing a few routines and exercises won't fix, though."

"When can she be discharged?" Dad asked.

To our surprise, the doctor replied, "Once all the paperwork is done, she can leave sometime today, in fact."

"W-wait, I thought you said I got sick because of the locker?"

"You were, and imagine our surprise when your body purged those diseases. From what we could gather from your test results, it looks as though your immune system was working some severe overtime. Having said that, I would suggest staying in doors for a few days. Chances are your immune system will be weak after all that, which of course means you'll get sick easily."

I chuckled in spite of the seriousness of my situation. "No offense, doc, but I think I'll take the common cold over what I just went through."

"As would I, Miss Hebert. I'll leave you be with your father. I have some paperwork to get through, including yours."

"Thanks again, Doctor Yard," Dad said as he shook hands with the man. "I can't thank you enough."

The doctor waved him off and left the room. Dad sat back down on the chair. A pit formed in my stomach when I realized it was just me and Dad in the room now. This was so awkward. What was I supposed to say in this situation? He had to know about Winslow now.

"How you feelin', kiddo?"

I smiled weakly. "I'm…doing okay, all things considered," I admitted to him. "What about you? When did you start growing a beard?"

Dad laughed. "I've been pretty swamped lately, visiting you and working at the Docks. Well, that and working on a lawsuit against Winslow."

I choked. "W-what?"

"Alan and I managed to build a case, though he had to hand it off to his co-worker due to some legal matters he didn't want to risk. It actually fell through a little while ago." Dad's face darkened. "That damn Principal settled on reparation fees and had no choice but to resign once the scandal got wind by the media. Winslow won't shut down anytime soon, but the school district is rather happy that an actual lawsuit actually managed to put a dent in that place."

I wasn't sure what shook me more; the fact that Dad went so far as to try and sue the school for what happened or that Emma's dad actually helped him. I couldn't remember the last time I saw Uncle Alan. At the very least, I was sure I didn't see very much of him after Emma broke off our friendship. It just felt so awkward, thinking about visiting the Barnes when their youngest daughter became my worst enemy. I half-expected him to try and defend his daughter if he ever found out what happened, which played a part in why I didn't tell Dad. He and Alan had been best friends since middle school. I couldn't do that to him.

As for Dad… It hurt me to admit it, but I always felt as though that, if I told him about what happened, he wouldn't believe me like the teachers. Or even if he did do something, he would fail.

The fact that Dad actually did something for me, and won…

"T-Taylor?"

I couldn't help it. For the first time in a long while, I cried. I cried so hard my eyes started to hurt. I hadn't felt like this since the day Mom died. As shocked and terrified as he was by me crying, Dad somehow understood what I was feeling. He didn't say anything, thankfully, instead choosing to wrap his arms around me again.

Dad was warm. He felt like a blanket, comforting me and keeping me safe.

He hadn't felt like this since…

I felt something in me break. I cried even harder, refusing to let go of him out of fear he'd leave me again.

Feb. 2, 2011
Hebert Household

I woke up to the familiar sight of my ceiling and poster of Alexandria in mid-flight, Legend and Eidolon on either side of her. Rays of sunshine poke through the blinders of my window, hitting me square in the face. Oddly, the light hitting my eyes didn't irritate them as much as they should have. My eyes adjusted to the brightness more quickly than I expected.

Groaning, I pulled myself out of bed and to my feet. It occurred to me just now that I had yet to change out of the clothes I had been wearing since I got out of the hospital. A quick whiff told me that, yes, I probably did stink, and I was in desperate need of a shower. Probably several more. I swear, I can still smell the shit from that locker lingering on me. Dad probably didn't say anything, knowing how tired I had been and because I just woke up from a month-long coma.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was still pretty early in the morning. Dad probably wasn't up at this time, so I might be able to use the washing machine without waking him up. Even though that really shouldn't make sense, since that thing could wake the dead. Either my hearing was bad, or Dad slept like the dead. In any case, I grabbed some spare clothes and dumped my smelly old ones into the washing machine, then took my morning shower.

It's been two days since I left the hospital. Two days since I learned that I no longer had to go to Winslow. Two days since I learned that my Dad, the lovable dork who talked Mom and mine's ear off about Dungeons & Dragons, somehow came back into my life after having thrown himself into work. For the first time in a very long while, I felt as though things were going right in my life.

Of course, I knew that just because I didn't have to go to Winslow anymore didn't mean I wouldn't run into the Trio. From what Dad told me, even though the lawsuit against Winslow settled, there was still the matter of Emma, Sophia and Madison. They were underage, so in the event they were found guilty, they would be tried as minors and sent to Juvenile Hall. That being said, Dad also mentioned something interesting about Sophia from what he learned from Carol Dallon, the lawyer he and Alan hired for the Winslow lawsuit.

It really should not have surprised me to hear that Sophia was on probation, it really shouldn't have. Regardless of what became Emma or Madison, Sophia was screwed. Between violating her parole and the prosecutor who started it being none other than one of the best lawyers in Brockton Bay, never mind the fact that it was the same woman who earned Canary her freedom, Sophia was fucked six ways from Sunday.

It was oh so very vindictive, not to mention cathartic. I wish I could have seen the look on Sophia's face.

When I heard the washer go off, I turned the knob and stopped the shower, proceeding to dry myself off. Once I was sure there wasn't any lingering water on me, I started to throw on my clothes, staring with my underwear, when I stopped and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn't pay attention to my body while I was washing my body, having done it so many times it became an automatic response, but actually seeing my physique for myself for the first time in the bathroom mirror…

"What the hell?"

It had not just been my hair that changed during my coma. The doctors explained my hair changing as part of a syndrome caused by stress and would regain its original color over time. What I was fairly certain was not part of that syndrome was my body becoming that of an athlete. I was by no means a runner, having only decided to start exercising and going on jogs when Sophia convinced some jocks to chase me around school on the thin hope of getting a date. At best, I did just enough exercise to burn off some fat and give myself a little muscle. There were days where I didn't exercise or go on jogs because I was either not feeling well or the Trio brought me to a low point, but in any event, I did not have the body of an Olympic sportsman.

Which was why, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I developed a fucking six pack and actual muscles!

And I don't mean the "grill a steak on those" kinds of abs, I mean the abs you see on an amateur athlete who worked hard. They weren't very developed, but they were noticeable enough for me to see them. My arms were slightly thicker than they were before, barely bigger than usual.

I stared at my reflection for several seconds, wondering whether or not I was pulling a Peter Parker moment before I heard Dad call out to me from downstairs. "Taylor! Breakfast's ready!"

Shaken from my thoughts, I scrambled to throw on my clothes. I made a mental note to figure out what the hell happened to me while I was comatose for me to get so fit so quickly and hurried downstairs. I found Dad waiting for me, sitting at the kitchen table as he set down a plate of food consisting of buttered toast, eggs and bacon.

"How'd you sleep, kiddo?" Dad asked.

I smiled slightly, doing my best to hide my earlier shock. I felt tempted to tell Dad about my newfound physique, but given all that's happened recently, I didn't see a reason to freak him out any further.

"I'm doing okay, I guess? I finally took a shower. You know, you could have told me if I stunk."

Dad raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I didn't want to push you. You got out of the hospital not too long ago. Speaking of, how are you feeling?"

"Better than I was yesterday. I felt so tired."

"You hardly ever left your room yesterday," Dad remarked before frowning in concern. "Don't push yourself, okay? I get wanting to act all tough, but-"

"Dad, seriously. I'm fine."

He still looked unconvinced, but he sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Just like your mother, I swear." I blinked, realizing that he said it just low enough that I couldn't hear it, yet I heard it anyway. When did my hearing get that good? I didn't have time to question another new development like that as Dad suddenly asked, "Are you doing anything today, sweetie?"

"N-no, not that I can think of. I thought I would play it safe, follow the doctor's suggestion, and do some morning exercises. Why? Did something come up?"

"Nothing like that. I was just thinking that maybe it's about time we invest in phones."

I stared at him wide-eyed, wondering whether or not that really was my father sitting across the table from me. When he learned that Mom died because she was on her phone, he had come to despise phones with a raging passion. He did own one, yes, but he rarely ever used it and it was strictly for work-related purposes. I hardly ever saw him use it at home when he was present, since he was usually almost always at work.

To hear him suggest that we actually buy phones for actual use…

"W-why? I-I mean, don't get me wrong, having a cell phone does sound nice, but why the sudden decision to buy them? You hate phones!"

Dad's smile faded into a stern look. "Because of what happened last month, that's why. If you had a phone and called me, I would have come to tear you out of that goddamn locker myself."

The way he said it spoke with genuine conviction. Hearing him say it for myself, I had no doubt that Dad would have done just that. The image of him coming to my rescue like a knight in shining armor, tearing the locker door from its hinges and carrying me home like a princess filled my mind, much to my embarrassment and shame. Of course, there was still that moment of shame that filled me when that small part of me, the one from Winslow, wondered if Dad really would do that.

Now that I thought about it, Dad hadn't brought up the bullying or Winslow once since we came home from the hospital. Was he purposely avoiding that particular landmine to be considerate, or was there another reason he was dancing around the bush?

"…I don't see the problem in getting a phone, but can we really afford one?"

Dad's smile came back. "I was browsing the store the other day and gauging the prices. So long as you don't want one of those smartphones, I think we're good."

"No thanks, I don't think I can handle touch screens yet!"

The two of us laughed at my little joke as we ate breakfast. For some reason, the house felt more lively these last few days then it had in years.

The drive to the store was a relatively quick one, though being out in public and earning more than a few weird looks because of my hair made me feel more self-conscious than ever. I don't blame them for staring. I mean, really, whose heard of a teenage girl with white hair? I should probably invest in a wig or start wearing hoodies while I'm out. The stares weren't as bad as Winslow, but they were a little judgmental.

Like Dad said, more than a few phones were fairly good in prices, but the smartphones were worth a fortune in my opinion. As far as I was concerned, only people with good paying jobs or were filthy rich would even consider buying something like that. At any rate, finding a phone that was decent in price and felt right for me was easy. Dad had a harder time, but a quick recommendation from the clerk at the counter fixed that problem. Once our phones were set up and our numbers registered, we decided to make a quick trip to the store for dinner. Apparently Dad had been living off of fast food and thought it was time for actual decent food for once.

…now that I think about it, it does kind of look like his pants are tighter than they usually are around the waist. I wasn't about to say that to his face, though. I valued my eardrums, thank you very much.

We arrived at the grocery outlet and went to work in finding ingredients for tonight's dinner. It had been while I was searching for carrots and cabbages that I ran into a familiar face. The god-awful bowl haircut made him stick out in my mind, much less his somewhat pudgy physique. He wasn't fat by any means, not in the way Uncle Alan had let himself go, but he was far from thin.

"Taylor?" Greg Veder stared at me with wide-eyes, performing the picture-perfect performance of a goldfish. "Is-is that you?"

"Long story," I told him before he could ask about my hair. "A very long one."

"Y-yeah, I bet."

Greg avoided eye-contact with me all together, his body shifting uncomfortably in place. To tell you the truth, I had mixed feelings about the fact that out of all the people that chose to help me by way of actually showing Uncle Alan footage of the locker incident, it was Greg Veder of all people.

Now, don't get me wrong, Greg was not a bad person by any means. Sure, he was like everyone else in Winslow and never once tried to help me when the Trio decided it was Bully Taylor day, but also unlike everyone else who tried to avoid me like the plague out of fear of earning the ire of the Trio, Greg actually made attempts. He would always ask the stupidly obvious questions like "are you okay?" but he always meant them with genuine concern.

On the one hand, I was a little happy that, after all this time, someone decided to step forward and help me, and it was the guy who made an attempt, but on the other hand, I couldn't help but feel irritated. It was only when someone was building a case that would actually stick on Winslow that someone finally stepped forward to provide the silver bullet that would become the final nail on Winslow's coffin, and by extension, Blackwell's.

I reigned in my feelings and did my best to make sure my irritation didn't show on my face. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh…shopping?"

Oh. Right. Duh. Of course he was here for shopping. What else was there to do in the fucking grocery store? Niiice job, Taylor.

"Well, I mean, I'm mostly here to grab some stuff for my folks is all," Greg continued. "Dad invited a co-worker of his and wants to make a big dinner. Mom was busy, so here I am."

Silence fell between us after I accepted his answer for what it was. He looked at cabbages, trying to see which ones were good and which ones weren't while I was picking tomatos. Every now and then, I caught him stealing glances at me, occasionally opening his mouth as if about to say something, only to decide against it. This went on for about a minute before I sighed. If I had to see him act like a miserable puppy dog any longer, I was going to lose it.

"Is something wrong?" I asked him straight out.

Greg winced. "Er, that's, well…" He stared at the floor for a while before grimacing. "I-I guess it's… Well, um, how do I say this?"

"Is this about Winslow?"

"…yeah, it is." Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm really sorry, for what happened."

My fingers curled into my palm. It took everything I had to keep my face perfectly calm and bottling my anger. Greg meant every word he said like he always did, but something about the way he said it, how it felt like he was pitying me…

I don't know why, but it pissed me off.

"…a little late for that, don't you think?" I said with more bite than I intended. Greg went from being a puppy dog to a kicked Chihuahua. The guilty and hurt expression on his face made me feel guilty. "Sorry, that was a little uncalled for."

"No, no, I deserved every bit of that."

"If you don't mind me asking, how'd you even get that video?" I asked curiously. "I sincerely doubt that Sophia or Emma would have allowed anyone to do that."

Say what you will about the Trio, but if anything they were careful about their bullying. They made sure there were very little witnesses, and if there were any, they would do their damndest to make sure they did nothing or tried to tell the teachers. It was why I was surprised to hear that there was a video recording of them shoving me inside my locker. I tried asking Dad about it, but the look on his face told me everything I needed to know. I was better off not knowing.

"They tried, actually. When they realized some people were recording the whole thing, Sophia went on the warpath, threatening to break their bones if they didn't delete the video," Greg told me. "One of my friends sent me the video instead of deleting it by pure accident, by the way. It was dumb luck I ended up with it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Greg nodded. "To be honest, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I thought about deleting it. It didn't seem right, having it I mean. Imagine my surprise when Emma's dad comes knocking at my parent's door and asks if I knew what happened to you."

"What's going on at school anyhow?"

He shrugged. "It's the same as usual, I guess? Skinheads, addicts and Asians screwing around, picking fights and recruiting, and the teacher's don't do much. I mean, Mr. G and Mrs. Knotts are trying to keep everybody from killing each other, so I guess that's a plus? I heard Blackwell resigned, though." I stared at Greg in shock, performing my own imitation of a gaping fish. "It surprised everyone else, too. I don't know when it happened or why, but I heard that two weeks ago, Emma's dad had a talk with her."

Dad mentioned that Uncle Alan managed to make the Principal settle on reparations, but what had he said to Blackwell that made her resign? I was both mildly curious and afraid to find out. Still, hearing that Gladly was doing something productive instead of trying to act like the student body's best friend was a little surprising. Mrs. Knotts was less so, since she was usually the one who tried to help me, though her efforts were usually null and void thanks to either another teacher or the Principal forcing her to back off.

I bit my lip as my thoughts directed to somewhere unpleasant. "And the Trio?"

"They've been keeping their heads down since this whole thing started, but ever since Emma's dad started the lawsuit, we haven't seen much of them." Greg frowned slightly as something occurred to him. "You know, now that I think about it, I haven't seen Sophia at school since this whole thing started. I don't know about Madison or Emma, though. Maybe they're just playing it safe?"

That, or they're scared. They were caught on video and likely to face some serious charges. Again, the idea that they're finally getting what's coming to them made me more giddy than it should.

Greg finally found cabbages worth grabbing and left, offering me another apology as he made his way to the cashier. I met back up with Dad and we paid for our groceries, making our way back home.

Feb. 3, 2011

It was early in the morning that I decided to look into my physical changes. I opened the web browser on my phone, thinking about the locker, my body and my hair. Something about my 'changes' were nagging at me. It was the first time this happened to me, but it felt familiar for some reason, as if I had seen this happen before.

When I typed in what happened to me, physical changes after a traumatic event, I realized why.

The first search result displayed on my phone read:

HOW PARAHUMANS ARE BORN – AN EXPLANATION ON TRIGGER EVENTS

"…no fucking way."

I stared at my phone for several seconds, my brain spluttering and rebooting dozens of times before it finally registered. I flopped onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling, where my poster of the Triumvirate sat staring back at me. My mind was like a whirlwind, thoughts and feelings spinning around and leaving me confused. When I sorted through it all, trying to wrap my head around the fact staring at me dead in the face, I was left with excitement and dread.

Like every kid who was born in raised in the generation of capes, I dreamed of being a hero. Out of all the capes in the Protectorate, the one that idolized the most was Alexandria. Why wouldn't I? Other than Eidolon, she was the undefeatable. The strongest hero in the world who never lost a fight (the whole debacle involving the Siberian aside). I always dreamed that I had powers like hers, that I could take on anyone. The fact that I did have powers now, that I was a cape, told me that those dreams weren't far off anymore.

But being a cape now had its own set of problems. Especially if you lived in Brockton Bay.

It was no secret that Brockton Bay was the worst city to live in, namely because the gangs had more power than the PRT. Even the number of villainous capes outnumbered the heroes, if you included Faultline and her crew when she was hired by someone who wanted to do some damage. Independents didn't last very long, usually having a lifespan of six months before they either died or were recruited (read: forced) into a gang. There were some rumors that Squealer wanted to join the Protectorate, but Skidmark got to her first. I wasn't sure if those rumors were true, but who knows?

Being a hero sounded great on paper, but when you actually got your feet into the action and came face to face with someone dangerous, especially one like Lung, you were faced with a chilling reality. There was a real possibility that could die if you weren't careful or weren't strong enough.

There was also Dad to think about. If I told him I had powers, he would definitely freak out. I had no idea if he would believe me, and if he did, he wouldn't let me out of his sight. He knew how much I wanted to be a hero, he and Mom both, but after nearly losing me to the Trio, there was no way in hell he'd allow me to join the PRT.

Am I jumping the gun here, though?

That was what was bugging me about this whole thing. Aside from going from stick thin to amateur athlete and my hair dyeing all by itself, I wasn't floating off the ground, having the urge to build some sort of doomsday device that may or may not blow up in my face or shoot laserbeams from my eyes. For all I know, I was overreacting. Maybe me suddenly becoming athletic was because of something that happened in the hospital.

If I wanted to confirm my suspicions, I would actually have to go out and see for myself.

That being said, I don't think Dad would appreciate me shouting weird things or, god forbid, I blast a hole in my wall.

…ugh, I can barely think right now! Ever since the locker, it feels like there's too much happening all at once! This and the whole deal at Winslow!

I need some fresh air. Maybe a quick run will help clear my head and I can make sense of all this.

After me and Dad had breakfast, I told him I was going out for a jog. As I expected, he wasn't too keen on me going out, but I managed to convince him by taking with me a stun gun and pepper spray. You could never be too careful, even if all you went to was the Boardwalk. I left around noon and started my run.

As I was running to the Boardwalk, I noticed some weird things. Even though it was February and I was wearing a thin sweater, I could hardly feel the cold wind whipping across my face. The doctor told me I would have felt some sort of fatigue or muscle atrophy, so exercises would help me regain my strength. Yet as I was running, I didn't feel any fatigue whatsoever. In fact, the fatigue I normally felt when I ran was nowhere present. If anything, I felt encouraged to go even faster and run harder. I could see farther than I was used to, making out the silhouette of the Rig standing amid the ocean waves when I was nowhere near the Boardwalk.

By the time I reached the Boardwalk, I was nowhere close to being out of breath. My legs still felt as though they could move and my lungs weren't begging me to stop.

I wasn't sure if all that was enough to say for certain that I was a cape, but at the very least, I knew that something about me had changed. If I was a cape, then…

What do I do?

I never considered what I would do if I ever did develop powers. If anything, my dreams were just that: Daydreams that would never come true. It's so easy just to imagine a life where you did have powers and everything went how you thought it would, but when it happened for real, you weren't sure what to do. My dream finally came true, but now I'm not sure what to do next. I mean, what do I say to the PRT? "Hey, I found out that I have powers now and I want to join the Wards?"

Yeah, like that would boil over well.

And that was if Dad would let me.

I let out a tired sigh as I slowed into a walk, running a hand through my hair. Was this how things started for the Wards when they got their powers? Lost and confused before they finally decided on what to do with them? I shook my head and stared up at the sky, as if hoping I would get some kind of answer. I promptly froze when I realized something was wrong.

Last I checked, the Boardwalk didn't have any tall buildings.

I looked around and cursed, realizing that I wasn't in the Boardwalk but somewhere else entirely. The sign on a street post read "Avery Street," which made me do a double-take.

How distracted was I to run from my home, to the Boardwalk, to the downtown area?!

As I was about to double back to the Boardwalk, the door to the building right next to me exploded into teeny-tiny pieces. I was not ashamed to say that I screamed like the girl that I was, falling flat on my ass. I barely felt myself hit the concrete. I looked up and stared at the fact at something I never would have thought I would see in my life.

Sprawled across the street, groaning and trying to get up off the pavement, was Hookwolf, mask slightly broken and metal bits over his body shattered and cracked.

"W-what? H-how in the-what?!"

The person responsible for Hookwolf's state stepped into view, walking out of the building. A tall black man, totally bald with tattoos decorating the side of his face. His eyes were hidden beneath a pair of black sunglasses, yet I could clearly the see the blood red glow behind them. He wore a red scarf with a brown leather jacket over a black shirt, brown leather pants and black boots that came up to his calves and were halfway laced up.

The second I saw him, every part of me screamed danger. I knew that if I ever found myself in his crosshairs, he would kill me without batting an eye or so much as struggle to do so.

"Never thought I'd see the day when some dumb bitch thought it was a good idea to play Nazi," the man chuckled. Hookwolf stumbled up to his feet and roared, a metal blade growing out from his arm. He swung it at the man, and to my disbelief, the blade shattered to pieces the second it make contact with his head. Before Hookwolf could react, the man grabbed him by the throat, hand wrapping around his neck and lifting him off the ground. "You got some balls, mutt. How 'bout I do you a solid and bust a cap in your ass?"

"F-fuck…you!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Hookwolf snarled. In the next moment, all I saw was metal. Metal growing out of every part of his body and wrapping all around them. I had no idea what its purpose was, but there wasn't any need to. Just like his blades, the metal covering was destroyed. The man barely looked bothered by the act. If anything, he seemed amused by the fact that Hookwolf was trying to fight back.

Who in the hell was this guy? Where did he come from? Was he a new cape? If so, why wasn't he wearing a mask? Did he not care if people knew who he was? What onlookers there were out on the streets were like deers in headlights, some staring in gobsmacked shock while others were taking the moment to capture the event on their phones.

Just as the man was about to do something, the fingers on his free hand curling into a fist, someone shouted, "Wait!"

My jaw touched the floor as I saw Kaiser emerge from the same building the man came out of, the glowing form of Purity following after him.

The man craned his head to look at Kaiser. "You lookin' to start trouble too, brother? Your boy already got me in a foul mood by smashing my counter."

"F-f-fuck you!" Hookwolf snarled. He winced when the man tightened his grip around his neck. "I-I'll kill you, you son of a-!"

"You will do no such thing," Kaiser snapped. He walked up to the man, his body tense and ready for a fight to occur at any moment. "I would appreciate it if you let go of my subordinate."

WHAT?!

Everyone present looked at Kaiser as though he grew a second head. I had to be hearing things, right? There is no way—no way—that we just heard Kaiser, the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight, politely ask a black man to drop Hookwolf.

"Your boy attacked me first," the man shot back with a growl. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't pop his head like a grape."

"If you kill him, you paint a target on your back. The Empire will fight you, as will others," Kaiser pointed out to him. "Do you really want to risk attracting the eyes of every cape in the city?"

The man looked at Kaiser for a moment, eyes boring into the Nazi's helmet before he casually threw Hookwolf aside as though he were garbage. Hookwolf's body crumpled to the ground with a hiss. Kaiser roughly picked him up, clearly pissed at him. Purity was looking back at her boss and the man before she reluctantly followed Kaiser as they left, leaving the man alone.

I just saw Kaiser back off from a fight. A fight with a man who he should hate by all rights simply by the color of his skin.

What. The. Fuck.

The bystanders whispered excitedly to each other, each and every word clear to me. The man walked back over to the building, but stopped when he noticed me. He turned his head and stared at me, lowering his glasses just enough for me to see his eyes, which dimmed in their glow. I could still see the pulsating red lights in his irises, but otherwise, he looked normal, if a little intimidating.

"…well, never thought I'd see the day I would run into a halfer in this backwater shithole," he remarked as though he saw something only he could. "You gonna just sit there, or are you gonna come inside?"

"…huh?"

f you were to tell me that I'd find myself in a bar owned by a guy who kicked the ever-loving shit out of Hookwolf, I would probably laugh in your face or ask you if you were on crack.

After having met the man for myself, witnessing him manhandle Hookwolf as though he were disciplining a child, I definitely would have believed them now. I still don't understand why I'm sitting at a table, watching the man picking up the smashed remains of his counter. I don't even know why I took him up on his offer. Was this one of those Master/Stranger effects I've read about? I don't feel any different, though…

"S-so, who are you?" I asked timidly. "A-a-are you a new cape?"

The man looked over his shoulder and at me, eyebrow raised. "Do I look like some kind of whacko in his pajamas to you?"

"Well, no, but…"

"'s fine, sister," the man waved a hand in dismissal. "The name's Rodin. Call me Boss. I run this bar."

"I didn't know we had a bar near the Boardwalk."

"I opened up shop last month. Came to Brockton Bay for vacation and all that," Rodin told me, making me blink. Who in their right mind would come to this place for vacation? "I wasn't expecting those idiots to try busting my shop in daylight, though. The LARPERs always this active this time of day?"

I sweatdropped. "LARPER?"

"The assholes calling themselves Nazis."

I wasn't sure what amazed me more, the fact that he could act so calmly when he more or less painted a target on his back or that he was calling the Empire Eighty-Eight a bunch of fakes.

Rodin held up a fragment of his counter up to his face and grimaced. "Bastard owes me a new counter."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. I remembered what he called me when he saw me sitting on my butt near his bar.

"Why did you call me a halfer?" I asked as calmly as possible. "If it's because of my hair, it's-"

"Wasn't talkin' about your hair," Rodin cut me off with a chuckle. He tossed the last piece of debris over to the pile near the corner of the room before taking out a cigar from his pocket. He somehow managed to light it up with the snap of his fingers. "I was talking about what you are. How the hell did you end up that way? Last I checked, Triggers don't make you half-demon."

I blinked a few times before staring at Rodin in confusion. "…what?"

"Well, unless one of those Cthulu rejects found a way, but I don't remember that gold bastard going off anywhere."

I'm so confused. What on Earth is he talking about? Is he crazy? Or just one of those "weird" capes who believe their powers are magical in nature? I swear, I've heard about a cape group like that in New York.

"Ah, whatever, what that asshole does ain't my problem," Rodin grumbled before turning to me. "Anyway, how long has it been since you Triggered?"

"H-How did you know?!"

"Your old man." At the mention of my Dad, I went ramrod straight. Rodin continued, "He came here last month, probably a day or so after you got sent to the hospital. At first I didn't pay him any mind, since he came for a drink. Then he showed up again every once in a while, rambling on and on about how fucking pissed he was, how he failed his daughter and how he much he screwed up. He even showed me a picture he had in his wallet." Rodin gave me another look, this time more amused. "Though last I checked, you had dark hair in that photo. Decided to start your angsty teenage years or something?"

"I wish…"

The pain in my chest grew worse. When Rodin talked about Dad, I felt like I had been sucker-punched in the gut. Dad was wrong. He wasn't the one who screwed up here. I knew that better than anyone. If I just told him about what was going on at Winslow…

"That still doesn't explain how you knew I Triggered?"

"Trapped in a locker full of shit? Got stuck in a coma? People getting superpowers from experiencing the worst day in their lives?" Rodin snorted. "An idiot could figure that much out, though I gotta admit, wasn't expecting to see any parahumans like you. Speaking of, are all parahumans a bunch of douche bags, or are those Empire assholes just the special ones?"

"Well, you are black," I pointed out to him. "And I've heard they want to expand their territory a little. A black man who just arrived in Brockton Bay and opened up shop? They probably thought you were a prime target."

The dark-skinned man scoffed. "I noticed."

That's probably what happened before I arrived; Hookwolf must have come here to intimidate Rodin, maybe run him out of town or kill him before things snowballed. Why Purity and Kaiser, one of the heaviest hitters of the Empire and the other the head honcho himself were present, I had no idea. Maybe they happened to be here by chance. In either case, I couldn't help but worry what was going to happen to Rodin now. He may be a little weird, what with his mention of demons and all, but he seemed pleasant enough, yet he was likely to be hounded the moment those videos taken by the bystanders hit the net, whether by the Empire or people looking to recruit him.

Still, for some reason, I had a feeling he would be alright. That tingling sensation, that primal fear when I saw him deal with Hookwolf, lingered on the back of my mind. I had no idea why I reacted like that, but if that sense of danger wasn't unfounded…

The more I thought about it, the more confused I was. Who in the world was Rodin?

"You should probably head on home, sister," Rodin suddenly told me. "Didn't mean to call you in my place just to talk your ear off 'bout something you ain't ready for."

Something I wasn't ready for? What did that mean? I was about to ask what he meant before I heard footsteps approach the bar from outside, followed by a sharp knock against the door frame. I looked over my shoulder and barely repressed the urge to squeal in shock and awe when I saw not one, but two Protectorate capes standing outside.

"Sorry, is this a bad time?" Assault asked with a disarming smile, clad in his trademark red suit. Next to him was Battery. "We came because we heard something interesting happened over here while we were out on patrol, so…"

Rodin smirked. "Only interesting thing around here are you two. Unfortunately, we're closed right now. For maintenance, obviously. Don't suppose "parahuman insurance" is a thing?" Assault laughed as though what Rodin asked was a joke while Battery rolled her eyes. I saw her glance at me for a moment, but she passed me over in favor of speaking with the bar owner. "Head on home, kid. Don't make your dad worry. Oh, and word of advice. Try to steer clear of the Trainyards. Been hearing some weird shit going down over there."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant by that before shrugging. I left the bar behind me and made my way back home. I had no doubt that Assault and Battery were going to ask Rodin about the incident with Hookwolf and the Empire, maybe even offer him a job with the Protectorate. That would definitely make headlines: "Bar Owner Wrecks Hookwolf And Joins Protectorate."

…still, I can't shake the feeling that something's off with that guy. Something about him doesn't feel normal. Stranger still, I don't think he's a cape, despite evidence saying otherwise. I'm not sure why I know that, but something inside me recognizes Rodin as something else.

…maybe I should get myself a Master/Stranger screening from the PRT. Everything just feel strange, and it's happening way too fast.

I returned home and spent the rest of the day doing menial tasks, such as doing laundry and cleaning my room. It was late in the afternoon when I finished my self-appointed chores that I made a decision that I should have done a long time ago. It started when I happened to glance at Mom's picture, the one showing her when she was alive and I was still a baby, safely held in her arms. Something in that picture spurned me to head into a place I hadn't thought of going into in years.

I closed the door behind me, descending down the stairs. I ignored the fact that, despite the lights being off, I could see clearly in the darkness. It was just another oddity that I wanted to think about another time, choosing to focus on what was in front of me. I reached the bottom of the steps and found myself staring at an assortment of boxes, all neatly piled and stacked in the corner. I grabbed the first box I saw, undoing the folds keeping it closed.

Inside the box was an assortment of knick-knacks and items that didn't look like they held any sentimental value. It was just kid toys I used to play with when I was little, along with books that Mom used to read to me when I couldn't sleep. The book in my hands was my favorite growing up, the cover and spine being so worn out that it was unraveling and coming apart.

The books and toys were just the tip of the icerburg, though. The thing that captured my attention the most, the one thing that I wanted to bury and never look at again until now, was a simple photograph. It was the sort of photograph you would see framed and put out in the open for friends and family to see, but to me, it was so much more. It showed a father and a mother standing together in front of a house, their six-year-old daughter smiling and grinning while holding up a victory sign with both hands.

I hadn't looked at this photograph in years. I even forgot it existed. Yet the moment I picked it up from the bottom of the box, I couldn't stop crying. The tears refused to cease and dripped from my cheeks.

An hour later, I emerged from the basement, holding a box of stuff Mom used to own or things that she gave me. Dad showed up then and there, finding me holding the box with wide-eyes before he saw how red my eyes were. Neither of us said anything. There wasn't a need to. He gently took the box from me and set it on the ground, and the two of us spent the rest of the day going through the boxes.

It wasn't the same, but as we looked through the things that Mom owned or the things she gave us, it felt like she was sitting there with us.

Feb. 4, 2011

I looked up from my breakfast and stared at Dad, slightly dumbfounded. "…could you repeat that?"

Dad's smile threatened to break his face in half. "I finally got word back from the faculty at Arcadia. They want you to come by and take an assessment test on Sunday."

For a moment, my brain stopped working. I could barely believe what Dad just told me. When my brain finally rebooted and properly processed what I just heard, I spluttered. "B-but my grades were shit. I-I mean, even if they know about the bullying and want to give me a chance, what about the tuition fee? W-we can't afford that, can we?"

"Funny you should mention that…" Dad pulled out something from his pocket and set it down on the table. It looked like a leaflet, showing an insignia or marker I didn't recognize. "Apparently, Alan got in contact with these people and told them what happened, and they had a talk with the school faculty."

I took the leaflet and examined what was written. From what I gathered, it was a lot like a troubled youth program. Instead of focusing on kids that went through all kinds of trouble, like say rehabilitated gang kids or troublemakers that went through Juvie like clockwork, they leaned more towards the kids who were severely affected by, and I quote, "harsh and unsafe environments that ignore the plights of children." The way it was worded, I swore they were talking about Winslow specifically.

"'Brockton Bay Junior Adult Safety Organization'…" I read aloud with a frown. "I've never heard of these guys before."

"Neither have I, but Alan says they're legit. Apparently, they have ties to the Youth Guard and are something of a subsidiary, but instead of being geared towards underage capes, they work with average day kids." Dad snorted. "From what Alan told me, the organization was founded by Naomi Hess."

Again, my brain froze.

"…Hess?" I choked. "As in, Sophia Hess?"

"Her mother, as it turns out." Dad nodded. "Alan spoke with her a little after Blackwell settled on reparations. He didn't know she was Sophia's mother at the time, but when he informed about the reason why he was contacting the BBASO, she wasn't surprised in the least by what she heard. Well, up until she learned the specifics."

I leaned in, curious. "How bad?"

"Let me put it to you this way. If what Alan said was true, had this Naomi woman met your mother when she was alive, they would have hit it off within seconds of meeting, because they both have tempers that would make even the devil cry."

It felt so weird, hearing how Sophia's mother would have gotten along with my own if she were still alive. Still, as suspicious as I was about this whole thing, I wasn't going to hold what Sophia did to me on her. She may have been Sophia's mother, but that didn't make her responsible for what happened. If anything, I pitied this woman for having someone like that for a daughter.

"…so, how does she fit into me getting into Arcadia?"

"A program for kids who suffered because of hostile environments, be it from their homes or in school facilities, etc. They're basically paying out of their own pockets to ensure troubled youths get into better schools."

"And they're good?"

"From what it seems, yeah. I've heard nothing but glowing reviews." Dad nodded. "It's up to you, though."

I looked back at the leaflet as I read its contents. The TV was going off in the background, a news reporter talking about how Fallen were aggressively starting some kind of public notice campaign. I ignored it completely in favor of understanding what the group was about. After I read it thoroughly, I set the leaflet down on the table and looked at Dad square in the eyes.

"I think we should go for it," I said seriously. "I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, and from what it sounds like, they mean well. Plus, I feel like I'd just be spitting in Uncle Alan's face with all the work he put into getting us this far."

Dad grinned. "Great! I'll talk to one of the teachers and tell them you'll be taking the test in three days."

Feb 7, 2011

At first glance, Arcadia was leagues better than Winslow in part due to how clean the campus was. I couldn't remember the last time I saw Winslow without any graffiti decorating its walls. It was also significantly bigger, if more compact with two buildings housing certain facilities. Both buildings had classrooms, but one had a cafeteria and gym while the other had an auditorium. The northern building, the one with the auditorium, was the one Dad and I entered.

The process of getting me into a classroom to take an assessment test wasn't as long as I thought it would be. It was a little worrisome, being alone in a classroom with a teacher, but I finished the test in an hour or so. The teacher told me that it would be a while before we got any results, but we should get word back from them within the next five days or so. Naturally, the news made me worried and wondered whether or not I passed. I wasn't too keen on going back to Winslow, but if worst came to worst and there was little choice, I could at least take solace in the fact that the Trio got their recompense.

I walked out of the classroom and shut the door behind me. Just as I was about to leave, someone collided into me at full-speed, knocking us both to the ground.

"Ah!"

"Oof!"

My body hit the floor. Like when I fell on concrete, I didn't feel any pain on impact. Looking up, I found a girl my age lying on her side and cradling her head, wearing a thin black jacket with a white shirt and faded jeans. Her blonde hair spilled down past her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face.

"Agh, son of a…"

"I'm sorry," I apologized as I climbed to my feet, offering my hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." The girl grabbed my hand and pulled herself up. I winced a little when I felt her grip. She was stronger than she looked. "Sorry about that, I was kind of in a hurry and wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's fine, no harm done."

The girl looked at me and blinked, taking in my appearance. No doubt she was surprised by my hair color, which irked me a little, not going to lie. I should probably invest in hair dye or a wig. I really didn't want people giving me weird looks just because of my hair color.

"It's a long story," I told her.

The girl shook her head, realizing she had been staring. "Uh, sorry. It's just, not used to seeing somebody with white hair. I don't think I've seen anyone with hair like that at Arcadia." She paused and stared at me more intently. "Actually, I don't recognize you."

"New student. Well, hopefully. I just got done taking an assessment test."

Her face scrunched in disgust. "Ugh, I remember taking those when I started my first year here. You a freshman or sophomore?"

"Sophomore. My dad pulled me from Winslow."

The girl's eyes widened. "No shit? I heard there was a huge incident there, something about a girl being trapped inside a locker full of shit from the girls bathroom by a bunch of bullies."

I shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the locker incident. It didn't seem like she was aware of all the details, but I didn't like the idea of people knowing who I was simply because of the Winslow case. The pitiable looks I would get would drive me mad, if not make me angry. The idea that people would pity me seemed to infuriate me, but I didn't understand why.

"I gotta jet," the girl said. "Sorry for bumping into you again."

"No problem, sorry for holding you up."

She smiled at me and took off in a run. I watched her go for a moment before leaving myself. Dad was waiting by the main entrance, chatting with some guy in a suit, probably a faculty member or a co-worker. Judging by the look on Dad's face, though, I don't think it was the last one. The man in the suit gave Dad a nod before he left, the latter watching him intensely as though he was expecting him to try something.

"I'm all finished up here," I told him as I walked up to him, knocking him out of his stupor. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, kiddo," Dad insisted.

I wasn't convinced. "Who was that?"

"A faculty member, I think."

Dad was lying, that much was obvious. His expression told me to drop it and I did. Even so, I made it a point to show how utterly unconvinced I was by his excuse before we made our way outside.

Once we got inside the car, Arcadia slowly vanished from sight behind us. I was looking forward to going back there, assuming I managed to ace the placement tests and all.

Dinner was a pretty short affair, all things considered. Neither of us felt like cooking, so we decided to order pizza. To go along with our greasy feast, Dad decided to pull out movies from his and Mom's time when they were my age. Classic movies, both Earth Bet and Aleph exclusives, such as the Original Star Wars trilogy, early Godzilla films, etc.

The highlight of the evening, in my opinion, was the moment poor Venkman got slimed.

"Oh my god, that is amazing." I laughed so hard I nearly cried. It was absolutely hilarious and cathartic, seeing such a dick get bulldozed and getting covered in goo. "Why didn't I watch this sooner?"

"Because you, and I quote, weren't interested in old-school stuff," Dad replied with a smirk. "Fun fact, this was Annette's favorite movie, her second being A Knight's Tale."

"I can see why. My god."

It was a shame that even Earth Aleph fucked up the Prequel Trilogy, but I will admit, I had a small amount of fondness for the first film. At the very least, I enjoyed Maul.

Our movie date ended around midnight, with both of us turning in. Dad had to wake up early in the morning so he was the first to clock out. I was up for a while, going over my notes to see if there was anything I may have missed in my placement tests so I would be prepared for the next one in case I failed.

Sadly, my concentration was not as iron-clad as I hoped. For some reason, my mind kept going back to what Rodin told me when we met.

There was nothing on the news about anything happening in the Trainyard, so what did he mean? Were the gangs plotting some kind of move to take over the Trainyard? It didn't make sense to me, especially since it didn't have much to offer. The trains had long since stopped working due to the railways having rotted away and being poorly rather maintained because of Brockton Bay's spiraling downfall due to falling on hard times. If there was any reason to invade the Trainyard, it was that Parian was rumored to be living there, but there was no real way of knowing.

Out of curiosity, I pulled out my phone and opened up PHO to see if there was anything of note.

Topic: Possible Cape Bartender Wrecks Hookwolf's Shit, Please Nerf
In: Boards ► News ► Events ► America ► Brockton Bay
L33t (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Posted On Feb 3rd 2011:
...well.

I never thought I'd see the day when THIS happened.

Link

(Showing page 1 of 69)

►Bagrat

(Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
O.O

►Answer Key
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
I think this is the first time somebody's rendered Bagrat speechless. I don't blame them. This is epic shit.

This is karmic justice at it's finest. Also, can I just say that this guy is fucking ripped? I mean, what the hell do you have to do to get arms that beefy?

►Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
I've lived in the Bay for a very long time, so I can say that what is being shown is nothing short of beautiful, not to mention hilarious.

I'm not sure what's more amazing here, the fact that a black man just beat the ever loving crap out of Hookwolf without even trying, or that even Kaiser knows to cut losses and just turn the other way.

Has the Protectorate picked this guy up yet?

►Assault (Verified Cape)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
Sadly, no. He said, and I quote, "I'll think about joining your club if that Rebecca woman leaves her office and orders a drink from my bar."

Word for word, by the way.

►GstringGirl
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
Daaaaaaang.

This guy has balls.

►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
I wish this person would reconsider. The lifespan of independent capes is roughly six months at best.

►Laser Augment
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
A man who can tank Hookwolf's attacks without batting an eye, much less make Kaiser walk away, probably doesn't have to worry about much of anything, save maybe an Endbringer.

The only downside would probably have to be the repairs to his shop. You and I all know that Skidmark and the ABB might try to recruit him, and they won't take no for an answer. I can already tell the absurd amount of money this poor man will have to pay to have his bar repaired each time some dumbass comes trying to get him to join their gang.

I know I'm annoyed by the amount of times a certain Ward destroyed MY shop!

►Antares (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
One time! It happened only one time on purpose! The rest were all accidents!

►Vista (Wards ENE) (Verified Cape)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
Wait, are we talking about the ramen shop or the electronics store?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 67, 68, 69

I skimmed through the rest and searched other topics, but sadly, there was nothing about the Trainyard.

Why am I so hung up about this anyway? There was nothing special about that place, and it was just a friendly warning from some possible new cape. Not going to lie, I was a little disappointed to hear that he wasn't going to join the Protectorate, but some people on PHO did raise a point. Whoever could tank Hookwolf's hits without flinching, much less manhandle him, was not someone I would want to mess with.

Still, the Trainyard…

…it wouldn't hurt to check it out, right? I mean, what's the worst that could happen? Besides, it was probably nothing.

Before I sneaked out of Castle Hebert, I threw on the warmest jacket and most comfortable pair of pants I could find in my mess of a closet and made my way towards the Trainyard. At night, the air was absurdly cold regardless of whether or not you were in winter. If it rained recently, odds were that the cold would cause whatever was wet to freeze. God I hate Winter in the Bay!

Grievances against the cold aside, I noticed that I wasn't nearly as affected by the cold as I thought I was. I was barely bothered by the chill, which made me wonder if it the cold wasn't as bad as usual tonight. I set my thoughts aside when I arrived at the Trainyard, greeted by the positively dead and empty sight of train tracks and trains that were left abandoned. Some were slowly accumulating rust, having been unused in years, while others were tilted off the tracks with holes punched in their sides. Some looked as if they had been torn to shreds. The rest were pulled apart and thrashed about as though they had been used as weapons. On the eastern side, numerous train cards were partially melted and had giant claw marks.

Some odd years ago, the ABB and Empire got into a huge fight with one another. I don't quite remember the specifics, but the fight escalated pretty quickly when Kaiser and Lung both decided it was time to kill one another once and for all. Obviously, both came out of the ordeal alive, but the fight itself was chaotic as it was destructive. The scorch marks the dragon of the Azn Bad Boys were still there. A permanent reminder of the power Lung held.

If I ever joined the PRT, I really hope I wouldn't run into Lung when he decided to go Hulk.

However, there was one eye-catching sight that definitely didn't belong here. That being at least three PRT vans and a familiar woman wearing camouflage fatigues and the American flag as a makeshift scarf.

I would have squealed were it not for the fact that almost every single person besides Miss Militia had a fucking gun!

It was better to be safe than sorry as I immediately hid to prevent any of them seeing me. The last thing I wanted was to be caught and had to explain what I was doing here. That, and if the look on Miss Militia's face was of any indication, she was not happy.

"Have you found anything?" she asked, looking at a man wearing some rather thick-looking armor as though he were expecting to come face-to-face with heavy artillery.

The PRT soldier shook his head. "We haven't found anything that might point us in the right direction. Coroner hasn't gotten back to us yet, but judging by the state of the bodies, I'd say we're dealing with somebody who loves burning and freezing." The man grimaced, looking rather ill. "Fuck, who does that to a bunch of school kids?"

"Why were they even here?" Miss Militia asked harshly.

"One of the train cars had some stuff inside; snacks, garbage, sleeping bags, you name it. We ran a background check on one of the kids. Apparently, he's from some big-shot family in Chicago who ran away from home. Family's been looking for him. We also found some hypodermic needles in the train car, all filled with heroin. One of the bodies we were able to identify was wearing Merchant colors."

"In other words, a drug addict and a seller…" The gun-making cape sighed and ran her fingers through her scalp. "Between this and the Bloody Cape murder the other day, we're stretching ourselves thin. Are we sure we have no leads on who's responsible for this?"

The PRT soldier shrugged. "Well, unless Lung's suddenly developed ice powers along with breathing fire, we're probably dealing with a new cape." He glanced at his wristwatch. "It's getting pretty late, ma'am. Should we head back for the night?"

Miss Militia contemplated on the next course of action before she nodded. She turned to address the other PRT soldiers. "Everyone, pack it in! We're heading back to HQ."

The men all nodded and began to leave, packing up their equipment and hopping inside their jeeps. Miss Militia hopped on her bike and took off, the rest following after her. I waited for a minute or two before stepping out into the open, breathing a sigh of relief. Never thought I would see Miss Militia in the flesh. Still, what were they talking about? I heard something about a Merchant and a runaway, but what did that mean?

I looked at the train car the PRT were investigating. I glanced around to see if there was anyone around before making my way over. I peered inside, finding it lived in and smelling like a garbage bin. A stained sleeping bag littered with garbage was on the floor. Scattered around it were little knick-knacks and items, like a portable lamp, flashlight, and a gaming console. There were also a few clothes scattered about, but like the sleeping bag, they all had stains.

That was not what had my attention, though. It was the other end of the car, the one with giant icicles stabbed into the walls.

"What the hell?"

Working up the courage, I walked over and touched the ice and immediately regretted it. It felt like my fingertips touched a stove left on for days. But that didn't make sense, ice wasn't supposed to be hot. It was supposed to be cold.

"Who could have done this?"

I took out my phone and scrolled through PHO to see if there was any news about an ice cape in Brockton Bay. There was nothing, not a peep or even a rumor. That meant this was the work of someone freshly Triggered, or a cape was making their debut here in the Bay. Now that I think on it, hadn't Miss Militia mentioned something about bodies being burned?

I just stepped out of the train car when I felt pure dread cascade down my back. The hairs on the back of my neck shot up. Cold sweat started pouring down my face.

I don't know how or why, but I could sense it.

Something was coming!

The first warning I got was frigid air breathing down my neck. On instinct, I jumped away and landed atop a lopsided train car so hard my feet dented the metal below me. I would have gaped at my Brute-like ability were I not so busy staring at the utter monstrosity staring back at me.

It was a dog straight out of hell. Its skin was leathery, veins filled with magma running across its body. A forked tail covered in scales swished about, flames lapping at the tip. It bore two heads with Mohawks made of crimson flames and blue ice respectively. It was far bigger than any normal dog, even twice the size of the monster dogs owned by Hellhound. The left head was snarling, bearing its knife-like teeth while the other merely glared at me with dark purple eyes.

"We've found you, half-breed…"

It…talked?!

I stared in shock, eyes wide in disbelief. My eyes widened even further when I saw the head spewing flames from its mouth open its jaws wide. Once more, my body moved on instinct and jumped out of the way, leaping off the train car and back onto the ground. Crimson flames erupted from the demonic dog's mouth, scorching the earth and turning the train car into smoldering metal. When the flames died down, I saw only a trail of black leading towards a melting container, steam rising off its remains.

If I hadn't moved when I did…

"What-" I started. "What the fuck are you?!"

The demonic dog's heads growled and spoke in unison. "We are Orthrus! And tonight, we shall feast on your bones!" The left head let out an ear-shattering howl. The air grew unbearably cold. Ice began spreading beneath the mutt's feet.

I did the most sensible thing anyone would do: I ran like hell and never looked back. I used my newfound status as a Brute to its fullest, breaking off into a spring that would leave Olympic sportsmen jealous. The demonic dog, Orthrus, immediately chased after me. Its footfalls were like heavy stomps, the ground cracking apart with each step. I ran even faster, putting more pressure on my legs.

I can't believe this is happening. What the hell is this thing, some kind of Case-53?! And why is it calling me a half-breed?! I don't understand any of this! What even is it?!

My feet bounced off the ground and leaped over an overturned train car. Behind me, Orthrus snarled and let loose another stream of hellfire. I felt the overwhelmingly intense heat brush against the back of my body. I dared to look behind me and saw the oversized dog charge after me through the path it made. Its other head opened its maw and roared.

Giant icicles came flying out of its mouth.

"Fuck!" I jumped to the side and evaded the flying projectiles. Climbing back up to my feet I ran in another direction, ducking around the corner and entering a narrow passage with train cars on either side. "Shit shit shit shit shit!"

Snarls and growls shook the air alongside the sound of metal being torn apart. I yelped when the two-headed demon dog came barreling out from a train car and resumed the chase. It was almost as if we were playing some kind of twisted game of cat and mouse, with me as the mouse. Where did this thing come from? And how hadn't the PRT found it while they were searching the place?! Seriously, how the fuck do you miss something that big?!

An open train car laid ahead of me. I was about to jump through it when a sudden idea came to mind. Orthrus was gaining on me. It must have known what I was about to do because it chose then to jump forward, maws open and fangs primed to rip me to shreds. Unfortunately for this bad dog, I had other plans in mind and skidded to a stop, rounding on my feet and crouching low to the ground. Orthrus flew over my head and went past the open train car, smashing into another container.

I was about to take off and run for dear life in the other direction when—

"AAAAH!"

Motherf—what now?!

Cursing under my breath, I peered through the hole in the container Orthrus made and paled at the sight on the other side. Othrus had come to a stop when it bashed into a stack of containers, knocking some into the air and creating towering pillars of metal. Ice had quickly begun to encroach the area as a sign of its irritation. Its attention was no longer on me, but instead on someone else. A familiar woman wearing a Victorian-era dress with a white porcelain doll mask on her face, blonde locks falling down to her shoulders.

It was only that I remembered that Parian was rumored to live here in the Trainyard.

And it was only dawning on me that I led Orthrus right to her.

At first the dog didn't seem to notice her. It instead shook its heads, somewhat dazed after the collision before it took notice of her. Its eyes widened, and ice and fire became a rampant storm of rage.

"ZION!"

Both maws opened.

My brain froze. My body moved forward, leaping out further than it had before. Something in my head clicked then and there as I flew towards my target. Without realizing what I was doing, my body acting on auto-pilot, my hands stretched open and curled around spectral blades that appeared in my hands, tinted orange-red and shimmering.

I latched on to Orthrus' body and jammed one of the blades into the right head's eye. Black ichor gushed out, spilling and splattering across my jacket while Orthrus roared in pain and began thrashing about. I found myself forced to hang on for dear life.

"Hurry and get out of here!" I shouted at Parian. The rogue stared, shocked and dumbfounded before she found her legs working again and took off running. Orthrus threw its body against a stray railway car, nearly squishing me between it and the car. Gritting my teeth, I jammed the shimmering sword further into its head.

Orthrus howled and fired off streams of flames and frigid ice before it finally managed to throw me off. My back hit a train car, even managing to put a human-sized dent in its side. My back ached in protest as I pulled myself out, dazed due to the harsh impact. I looked up and paled, quickly jumping away when a stream of ice tore up the ground and giant icicles skewered the train car totally and utterly.

"You will pay dearly for that!" Orthrus promised gravely. Flames and ice vapor spilled from its mouths while glaring at me with intense hatred. "I will tear the flesh from your bones and grind them until they are all but dust!"

I gritted my teeth. There was nowhere left to run. I was all out of options. It was either fight or die.

I really wasn't liking my odds.

Another shimmering blade appeared in my hand. I gulped and stared down the demonic dog, sweat pouring down my neck. Can I do this? Can I really beat this thing?

There was only one way to find out.

I suck in a deep breath, tighten my grip on my sword and charged. At that exact same moment, Orthrus sprung into action. It swung its giant paw at me. I ducked, falling into a somersault and slashing at its heel. The cut was shallow and didn't draw any blood. I slashed again, this time at the underside of its belly. Orthrus retaliated by trying to squish me and slammed its paw down. I rolled out of the way and threw the sword at it, stabbing it into its rib.

The left head turned in my direction and fired off a frigid blast of ice. I jumped and evaded it, dashing around behind it and summoning another sword. I had nearly forgotten about its tail until it came swishing at me. I blocked it, though the force of the attack nearly sent me down to my knees. I felt my bones rattle from the sheer impact. It came at me again, and I knew I couldn't defend against it a second time. I instead turned the other way and jumped toward a train car and bounced off it, landing atop Orthrus' back.

I didn't stay on for too long, simply cutting away at its leathery hide with my sword before it started growing frantic. My feet skidded across the gravel, nearly making me lose my balance. I barely had enough time to evade the intense stream of flames heading my way. Its jaws snapped at me, threatening to bite me in half. I stepped away and slashed at its jaw, only for it to catch the blade in its teeth and shatter it with a chomp.

"Weak!"

This time I couldn't dodge. The right head roared in flames point-blank and my world was consumed by an inferno. I was knocked off my feet and slammed straight through steel, coming out on the other side and rolling out on top of a railway. I bit back a scream, finding my body burning in pain. My clothes were all but scorched. I'm surprised there's still any left of it. I'm covered in burns that hurt like hell. I don't want to move.

But I have to, otherwise I will die.

Orthrus jumps on top of the container and leaps upon me, intending to crush me like a bug. As much as my body hurts, I forced it to move. I rolled away and avoided having my head crushed by its paw and rolled back up to my feet. Summoned Swords flicker around me and are sent flying without prompting, embedding themselves into Orthrus' body. One manages to pierce into its left neck, which only seems to piss the hellhound off more. Both jaws open and I jump as high as I can. Below me, ice and fire mingle and utterly destroy the railways.

I landed atop its back. My hands frantically grab hold of the sword stuck in the neck as it started to thrash about again. Claws groped and tore trying to reach me. I squeezed on the grip and roared, dragging the blade as far into its neck as I could before dragging it down, carving through flesh and bone. Orthrus howled with pain once more, flinging me off.

I flopped about on the ground, panting and gasping for air. I looked up and found more black ichor spilling out from the wound, pouring like rushing water from a facet. I hoped to lop off its head, but the bastard still had it.

Worse still, it looked more pissed off.

"Worthless, insignificant trash… You dare scar this body?!" Orthrus' left head snarled at me. "You, not even a proper devil, a mere weakling with human blood in your veins…! You believe you could stand against me?!"

The right head snorted. "You are but a fledgling. Power so pitifully weak you have no idea how to use it. A miserable excuse of a devil."

"What…" I groaned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Rather than answer, the two heads open their mouths wide. Cold air mixed with blistering heat. They were going to finish me off here and now.

I pulled myself to my feet, weakly calling another sword into my hand. If this son of a bitch thinks that I'm just going to lay down and die like it told me to, it's got another thing coming!

Just as I was about to launch a final assault, something comes into my field of vision. At that same moment, Orthrus lets loose. Ice and fire clash and mix and destroy everything in its path. I knew then that, had that person not shown up when they did, I would have died.

The stream of ice and fire continued for three seconds before it was snuffed out like a candle. The man in front of me, the bar owner, blows at his hand which was covered in soot and frost. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to brush your teeth, you damn mutt?"

"What?!" "Who the hell are you?!"

I stared at him slack-jawed. "W-what are you doing here?!"

The man looked over his shoulder. "You kiddin', sister? Why wouldn't I be here when I feel two devils screaming at each other for miles? I gotta say, though, you held up pretty nicely." He smirked and ruffled my somewhat burnt hair. "You got balls, sister. What's your name?"

"Uh… T-Taylor?"

"Taylor, huh? Nice name. Ever thought of becoming a devil hunter?"

"You dare ignore me, you runt?!"

The bar owner craned his head. He didn't smile—he bared his teeth. Beneath his sunglasses, I swore I saw his eyes glow bloody red.

"Just the guy whose about to bust a cap in 'yo ass."

Feb. 9, 2011

I stared at the entrance of the Gate of Hell. Several thoughts were running through my head, chief among them being, "This is a bad idea." I knew next to nothing about that guy, and yet here I was, standing at his front doorstep and wondering what I was going to say. I tried to forget what happened the other day, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Every time I tried to forget that I almost got myself killed by a fire-and-ice breathing monster dog, something kept me thinking back.

The feeling of adrenaline pumping through my veins, the excitement, the thrill…

I took a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. I didn't consider myself an adrenaline junkie or anything close, and the idea that I got excited by the prospect of fighting and nearly getting killed by a monster dog was…worrying, to say the least.

The neon sign on the bar flickered for a moment. I swear, the eye in the middle of the sign was glaring at me and saying, "Get on with it!"

"Well, here goes nothing…" I mutter under my breath and grab hold of the handle. I pull down and push the door forward.

Unlike before, where the man led me into the bar the first time, I felt a sense of dread and danger when I crossed the threshold. Every cell in my body was screaming for me to get away, but I pressed forward, swallowing my fear. I closed the door behind me and entered the bar, walking through the entryway and stepping into the main lobby. I stopped for a moment, transfixed by something I swore wasn't there before; a gold statue of a woman bearing a lion's head carrying an hourglass over her shoulders.

Behind the bar was the man who saved my life, wiping down a glass. "You saw the sign outside, didn't ya?" Rodin said without looking up. "We're closed for the day, sister. Plus, if you're looking for a drink, the only thing I'm sellin' to a minor is a soft drink."

"That's…not why I'm here," I said.

Rodin set the glass down and looked up, a hint of a smile on his face. "Yeah, I figured. Take a seat. What's your preference, cola or pepsi?"

"Either's fine." I take a seat by the counter. He nodded and bent down to grab my soda. "So, um… About that thing the other day… What-what was it? It said it's name was Orthrus. That's Greek, right? I-I looked it up online. He's supposed to be Cerberus' brother, right."

"Well, he's related to Cerberus, but they ain't brothers, kid." Rodin stood back up and set my drink on the counter, removing the cap with nothing but a flick of a finger. "That sucker used to be two separate demons; runts who fought tooth and nail to get a member of the Cerberus clan's attention so they could swear fealty to 'em. And sometimes, they happen to catch the attention of the big muchacho himself and get stitched together to another runt."

"D-did you say demon?"

He nodded. "That's right. That thing wasn't no Case-53 or a cape, Taylor. It came out from the pits of Hell. Or, well, a version of hell." He took out a cigar case, fingers wrapping around a thick tobacco stick before lighting it. I gagged in disgust, the smell already invading my nostrils. "See, each world's got its own version of Heaven and Hell. In one world, downstairs is called the Underworld and is divided into Hells, each ruled by powerful demons. At the top of the food chain is Mundus, though he got the shit kicked out of him and got locked away. Don't know much about its version of Heaven, though. My world's version of Heaven and Hell are called Paradiso and Inferno. And trust me, you really don't wanna run into a demon from Inferno, much less one of those angels from Paradiso."

I gaped at the man. "D-did you say your world? Then you're from—?!"

"Yep, not from around here. And let me tell you, Earth Bet is shit. If it ain't some leathered up pansies or a bunch of idiots in spandex, it's a bunch of Godzilla knock-offs prancing around with sticks up their ass." He suddenly looked up and scowled. "No, I am not taking it back, ya punk-ass bitch!" Rodin shook his head. "Anyway, where was I?"

I took a very large swig of my drink. Ugh, Coco Cola Zero? Really? Who the hell would drink this crap? Ah, oh well. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess. "You, um, were saying you came from another Earth?" I take a moment to digest what I was hearing. "So, let me get this straight. Hell exists on every Earth, and so does Heaven…and that thing was a demon?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

He and I stare at each other. The staring contest lasted only a minute before I gave up and sighed. "To anyone else, that sounds all kinds of crazy. You realize that, right?" The man shrugged. "But… Well, after seeing what I did, I can't really deny it. That, and…"

"You felt it, didn't you? That tingling sensation in the back of your head. Something inside of you screaming?" I nodded. The man smirked. "That would be your other half talkin', kid."

We've found you, half-breed.

Orthrus' words ring in my head. My stomach lurches uncomfortably. "I'm half-demon? But that's—no, that can't be right. Mom and Dad are human. I know they are! I-I mean, I think I would know if one of my parents was secretely a monster!"

"Well, you ain't exactly a normal halfer," Rodin answered. "I've met half-demons before, enough to tell a genuine one from someone that's not entirely natural. My best guess is that your little buddy turned ya into a half-demon. Why in the hell it did that or how that gold bastard even knew how to do it, I got no idea."

"I'm sorry, what?"

The man then explained to me how all parahumans got their powers. Apparently, a giant space monster came to our world and split off pieces of its body, scattering those pieces out into the world. Those pieces then took root inside a host, and when the host endured the absolute worst moment in their life, the fragment gave the host a set of abilities relating to their trauma so they could overcome the hurdles in their path. Said fragments, however, egged their users on, nudging them to experiment, strengthen and test their might against others like them.

In other words, the bar owner was telling me all parahumans got their power from Cthulhu's cousin.

If I didn't know any better, I would swear this guy is Void Cowboy from PHO.

"…you seriously expect me to believe that?"

"Believe it or don't, that's up to you. Either way, sister, like it or not, you got demon blood running through your veins," Rodin replied before his face turned serious. "And that means every thing that goes bump in the night will be gunnin' for your ass."

"Why?!" I demanded. "What did I do to them?! I didn't even knew they existed until two days ago!"

"You didn't have to do anything. When it comes to half-breeds, demons flock to you guys like moths to a flame. Supposedly, half-breed demons are a rare delicacy."

My blood went cold. The image of monsters from my worst nightmares came to my mind, descending upon me with claws and teeth tearing apart my flesh and biting into my bones.

"Lucky for you, you got what it takes to fight back." I break out of my thoughts. Rodin was smiling widely, showing his pearly white teeth. "You got a little power in you, kid. Way I see it, you got two choices. Either you sit around and let yourself become demon chow…or you fight back."

"…how do I do that?" I ignore the wild thumping in my chest and the sudden dryness in my mouth.

Rodin chuckled. "That depends, sister. You got what it takes to be a Devil Hunter?"

"Hello, and welcome to…"

I chuckle and wave awkwardly back at Parian, who just stared at me, no doubt confused as to why I was here. I still had some time before the Supreme King Geek got worried, so I figured I might as well stop buy the rogue's shop and see how she was doing. I mean, she did almost get killed by a dog straight out of hell, and it was my fault she was in that situation in the first place, so it was only right I apologize.

That being said, now that I was in front of her, I found myself unable to utter a word. Seriously, what the hell was I supposed to say? "Hi, Parian! Turns out I'm a half-demon and am being hunted by the forces of hell that want to eat me and I nearly got you killed!" Yeah. I'm sure that will boil over well!

"Um…hi?"

Seriously, Taylor? Is that the best you could come up with?

As lame as my greeting is, it shakes Parian out of her stupor. "H-hello," she greeted back. "How can I help you, madame?"

"Uh, nothing much? I just wanted to see how you were doing, considering you were, you know…" I sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this."

"Clearly," Parian snarked before she turned on her heel. "Why don't we talk out in the back?"

I nodded and followed after her, being led into a backroom filled with various dummies in fancy clothes that were way above my allowance. Some stuff I saw looked like the sort of clothes a cape would wear.

Parian closes the door behind her. Before I could say anything, she rushed up to me and wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you!" she sobbed. "Th-thank you so much!"

I was momentarily surprised by her suddenly hugging me, and a little more so about the strength she put into her hug, but I reciprocated nonetheless and hugged her back. I didn't expect her to react like this, but thinking back on it now, that might have been the closest she had ever been to being killed. PHO kept speculating about the limits of her power and whether she was holding back, but as far as I know, she had no actual combat ability. She was useless in a fight and only wanted to sell clothes. As far as I know, none of the gangs ever tried to recruit her.

Two days ago was different; she came face-to-face with a threat that could have killed her easily like snapping a twig.

I let her wail it out, clinging to me for a few minutes before she let go. "I'm sorry," she apologized, briefly lifting her mask to wipe her eyes. I turned away so I did not see much of her face, only barely making out dusk-colored skin. "I have no idea what came over me."

"It's fine. It was kind of my fault you were in that situation in the first place," I told her. "I was trying to get away from it, and I kind of forgot the Trainyard was your home. Er, speaking of, it didn't…?"

"No, my place is still intact," Parian shook her head. "I did get a visit from Armsmaster, though. Apparently, they wanted to talk about reports of loud crashing sounds, smoke and giant icebergs coming up from the ground." I paled for a moment. Oh shit, did she tell them about me and Boss?! No way, this was bad! I wasn't ready! Oh, fuck, Dad is going to be pissed at me! Seeing my terrified expression, the dress-maker laughed. "Relax, I didn't tell them about you. I just told them that a brave cape showed up and saved me."

I sighed in relief. "W-well, thanks for not telling them about me? I'm, uh, kind of new…"

"Yeah, I sort of figured that," she giggled. "At any rate, I do owe you some thanks. If there's anything I can do to repay you, let me know."

I was about to tell her that wasn't necessary, but I stopped. I glanced back at the numerous dresses and costumes, and slowly turned back to her.

"…out of curiosity, how much does a cape costume cost?"

Feb. 14, 2011

Training with Boss was, to put it bluntly, a nightmare. The Idol, as he called it, allowed me to enter a space called The Void. According to Boss, it was a place that existed outside of time, which left me plenty of time to train. However, also native to that place was some kind of demon called a Doppelganger, which was a cheating bastard because it moved way too damn fast for me to keep track of it. Pretty much half of my training sessions were me scrambling for dear life or blocking while almost never landing a hit. And the training sessions stretched on for hours, and I always end up leaving with more bruises than I care to admit.

It wasn't noticeable at first, but as time went on, I started to realize that I was getting faster. My strikes were growing more precise, and I was managing to keep up with the Doppelganger. It hadn't been until when Boss pulled me out early that he told me that the damned shadow grew stronger in tandem with me, as a way to keep me on my toes. Hence why I call the fucker a cheating bastard.

As for why Boss pulled me out early, well, let's just say Christmas came early for me.

I was standing in front of the place that started it all, dressed in heavy clothes with a hood over my head and a scarf around my neck, my new Devil's Arm in hand. It was still freaky to learn that the sword in my hand is actually the same two-headed monster dog that nearly killed me, but after giving it a test run in the Void, I was immensely happy with it.

To be honest, I'm not sure why I came to see Winslow again. Maybe I just felt nostalgic and was looking back on the good old days where Emma and Sophia treated me like shit. Or maybe I just wanted to look at it one more time and think about how far I've come since then. I kept thinking back to my first year here, how weak and plain I was compared to everyone else. Cowering in fear whenever the Trio showed up with their wicked smiles and plans in their minds.

The more I looked at Winslow, the more indignant anger started to build up in my breast. I remembered how the teachers looked the other way. I remembered how everyone pretended to ignore what was going on.

I remembered their sneering faces, and that's all it takes before a part of me, in fury, draws Orthrus from its scabbard.

This place was beneath me. It was where I was reborn in a sense, but there was neither love nor attachment to this cesspool. It was an eyesore that I couldn't stand to look at another minute. The more I did, the more I'm reminded of how I used to be.

Frail. Pathetic. Weak. Human.

One moment Winslow High School stands in front of me, pristine and defaced as always. In the next, it toppled like a stack of dominos. In a flurry of movements I did not realize I made until Orthrus clicked back into its scabbard, I sliced Winslow apart until all that was left were slabs of concrete that fell in on each other, collapsing on top of one another until it was reduced to a pile of neatly cut chunks of concrete and steel.

I stared at Winslow, then at my sword.

"…oh, fuck me, what did I just do?!"

God dammit! I can't believe what I just did! What the hell was I thinking?! Agh, I knew coming back here was a bad idea! Boss is never going to let me live this down…!

"Huh. Well, can't say I've seen anyone do that before." I froze. Slowly, almost mechanically, I look over my shoulder. To my utter horror, it was my next door neighbor and occasional baby sitter, Murphy. The police officer was staring at me, not recognizing me for a while before he looked at the pile of rubble sitting behind me. "Never thought I'd see the day when a cape went and busted up Winslow. Don't think I know you, though. You new?"

"…yes?" I said weakly.

Murphy nodded. "Cool. You got a name?"

"V-Vergil," I answer without thinking. Wait, why the hell did that pop into my head just now? I haven't even read the Divine Comedy!

"Well, Vergil, you might wanna start running in the other direction, because I'm going to call my boss and let 'em know we got a new cape in town who just destroyed public property."

I blinked. "W-wait, you're not going to arrest me?"

"For destroying Winslow?" Murphy grinned. "Fuck no. I still need to tell the higher-ups what happened though, so ah, you got a thirty-second head start."

I don't say anything more. Instead, I nodded and silently thanked Murphy and jump towards one of the nearby buildings, making good use of my thirty-second head start.

Remind me to make some meatloaf as thanks the next time I see Murphy.

...I did not realize this was going to be so damn long after it was all compiled.

Again, I am so sorry. But at the same time, I'm really not. There will be two more Interlude chapters after this. As I said previously, Arc 3 is still ongoing...though given how long that arc will most likely be, I'll post the chapters separately instead of as a compilation so as to make things easier for you all.

One more thing. Please beware of users TheToiletSeat, SH2018's Number 1 Fanboy, and Definatly Not Super Shadow2018. They're all troll accounts used by that striberz asshole who accused KR Duelist (formerly Fennikusumaru, or at least I think that was his username) of being a pedophile and harassed a few other users on this site. KR Duelist recently published a new fanfic called "The Silent Magi's Apprentice" and this asshole decided it would be a good idea to review bomb and accuse the author of being a sexual deviant.

On a side note, f you are interested in supporting me in any way, please consider buying my book "Chase Ryder and the City of Lost Memories" on Amazon. It is available for kindle, hardback, and paperback for 8.99, 26.99, and 12.99 respectively. Not to be confused with Jo Ho's Chase Ryder: A Heartwarming Thriller for Dog Lovers book series.