AN: The genesis of this idea was inspired from 'Indwelling' by lyrisey (on SB). If you haven't read that go and do so, the feels, the feels! Anyway, I already have a pretty clear outline for the majority of the fic with a very good idea of the ending. As a whole this story is going to be far more self-contained than most of my other works and will be quite a bit shorter by design because of that. It's largely going to be a character focused story and there probably won't be all that much blatant action until nearer to the end. Of course, that is always subject to change if the characters start laying their own rails halfway through like my people tend to do so...yeah, we shall see how long that idea holds out!

While this chapter starts off somewhat dark, if you've read anything by me, you know that things will improve eventually. The second chapter has already been written already and is waiting for beta which should be finished in a day or two. In the meantime, please enjoy the start to this new fic!


Flight 1-1

"I don't care that the shipment is delayed. You say that the Merchants attacked the container ship? So, it's simple, attack the Merchants. This is what I pay you for."

It was hard to focus, but she forced herself to listen, to pay attention. The fog was ever present, but this was important. Her power told her so. She needed to listen. She needed to push through the fog. Her eyes didn't need to be able to focus -

not that they could

- only her ears were needed here. It didn't matter that the room was too bright to see through the window. She just needed to be able to hear.

"Coil, we don't have enough guys to be able to take down Skidmark, Squealer, and Mush at the same time. They have a new cape too, Whirlygirl or something."

"I pay you to solve these problems. Should I be paying someone else?"

Shudders ran through her body. The mercenary was useless. He didn't have a purpose. He was going to be discarded. There was going to be a piece of metal lodged in between his eyes and -

Threat intended to prod reactive response, not intended for follow through.

- She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper and focused on the conversation again, the fog lifting slightly and the shuddering calming to brief, sporadic shivers.

"You specifically said you want to keep a low profile, Boss. I can get the product back, but it's not going to be low profile and there's not going to be any way we can blame it on the ABB or the Empire."

Master cursed, his lips lifting into a snarl visible even under the full body suit. "Without that shipment we don't have enough to keep my pet docile. I trusted your men to protect that delivery."

"I lost 6 men trying to protect that box, Boss. Tinker tech weaponry only goes so far. You want real results, hire real capes. Just give the bitch real drugs. Hell, Mikey has a bag of cocaine in his bunk; I can go grab it for you right now."

Coil won't agree. Coil likes Tinker concoction. Lucid, compliant, functional, addicted.

Useful, she finished in her mind, another shudder racking her. Normal drugs wouldn't leave her useful like Master liked.

But…if he didn't agree…the fog was slowly lifting. She would have to time it just right -

2 hours from now. Still drugged into supposed compliance for looser safety measures. Not so drugged to be unable to escape. Not long enough for withdrawal symptoms to fully manifest.

- but she could do it. She could do it. She had to do it.


She breathed out, and forced her eyes to focus. The footsteps from the mercenary around the corner were getting closer, but she needed to see him to know where he was. Hearing was good, sight was better. She needed to see him.

She peeked around the corner, everything still blurry and warping in and out of focus as she moved. One second to look, one second to duck back around the corner. He wouldn't see her. Her hair was too short now, the blonde wouldn't catch in the dim light of the access corridor. Her old hair would have. Not now. Not after Master had had his fun.

Leaning back against the wall and breathing deep to let her power work, the world swam. It would be so much easier to simply sit down and rest her head, let the gun in her hands go and relax until the next glorious spell of liquid wonder hit her and then everything would be fine and -

6 feet away, approach steady. Can strike killing blow by lifting weapon 12 inches and squeezing trigger in 5 seconds.

- She lifted the tinker gun she had slipped from the back pocket of the last merc she passed and aimed. After 5 seconds she pulled the trigger and started running down the newly cleared hallway. The soft pop of the gun was lost in the cavernous void of the final corridor. Her power wasn't supposed to be used like this. She wasn't a Combat Thinker. She wasn't supposed to be able to force it to give her timings and angles. She wasn't supposed to be able to jailbreak herself like this.

Had Master forced her into a Second Trigger? No, that didn't make sense. She stumbled, falling against the stairs and gasping for air even as a part of her pushed the ridiculous notion aside. She hadn't Second Triggered. There was no way. Her power was still the same, just being used…differently.

She'd never tried to use it in combat before. It had hurt too much, the power itself had fought her. Now it was…helping. If powers could help.

Maybe the drugs were messing with her mind more than she had thought.

The door to the outside was in front of her. A keypad. Oily keys. Who had she just killed? Mark? Mikey?

Mikey had cocaine under bunk. Would use familiar numbers as a code to ensure he could remember them while high. Numbers on vest were 05 41 96. Code for door is 054196.

She reached for the keypad, and the numbers swam in front of her. Her head hurt, her skin itched, everything was too bright, it was hard to focus, her hands were shaking.

Grabbing her right hand with her left, she pushed forward, and carefully - carefully - poked in the code. The door hissed open and she breathed Brockton Bay's air for the first time in nearly two months.

It tasted horrible. It tasted like smog and garbage and seawater.

It tasted like heaven.


The sun had gone down before she collapsed against the wall of an alley. She didn't know how long she had ran -

stumbled

- but it hadn't been long enough. She hadn't gotten far enough. Master would find her. His mercenaries would find her and he would take her back. He would take her back and he would give her the liquid wonder and she wouldn't be able to get free again because he wouldn't be careless enough to let his stockpile drop so low as to let her miss a dose again.

He'd take her back and the last spark that was Sarah would die.

She curled into a ball against the wall of the alley and hid her face in her hands, trying not to cry. She hadn't cried when Rex had died. She hadn't cried when she'd realized her parents were using her. She hadn't cried when Master had started his work. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't cry. She -

Insects' behavior is directed, not natural. Cape influence likely. Coil has not requested information on Insect Master. New Cape, unknown to Coil. Potential assistance.

- couldn't focus enough to care. Her power was whispering something important and the fog around her thoughts had diminished, but it was all she could do to keep gasping gulps of air at the moment. Trying to focus enough to do more, to understand, to react? That was too much. She had to hold it in. She had to stand and move or Master would come.

But it was so hard to move.

"Hey, are you okay?"

She jerked away from the voice, a sob escaping from her stranglehold grip before she was able to clamp her mouth shut again. She dropped her hands from her face and skidded back against the wall. There was a girl there, a Cape. The Cape was young, probably about the same age as Sarah herself. The armor was almost insectoid and dyed in dark, mottled greys and browns. Sarah breathed harder, her eyes widening.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The Cape held up her hands. "I want to help. I can call the police? I mean, I don't have a phone but I can go find a pay phone and…" the girl trailed off as Sarah shook her head hard enough to whip what remained of her hair to the side. "Okay, so no police. The PRT then?"

Sarah's hand went over her heart, grasping at the flimsy smock Master kept her in. She couldn't breathe. The alley narrowed to a point a thousand miles away. She couldn't breathe. The warmth seeped out of her at the thought of the PRT. She couldn't breathe.

Master worked with the PRT. Master used people in the PRT. Master ranted about the PRT. Master asked questions about his bosses in the PRT. Master would find her instantly in the PRT.

She couldn't breathe.

"Hey, hey look at me! Please look at me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm - fuck I knew this costume was a bad idea."

Sarah's vision flickered. Her hands spasmed. She couldn't breathe.

Brown curls and wide, scared green eyes filled her vision. Sarah gasped, her own eyes widening as she stared into the gaze of the Cape. The Cape, who had just pulled off her mask, pushed a pair of glasses onto her face, knelt down in front of her, and put her hands onto Sarah's shoulders.

"There, I'm just a normal girl, see? Breathe. Just, just breathe. In, and out. In, and out."

Her surroundings started to reassert themselves, but Sarah could only stare slack-jawed at the Cape. The other girl still had both hands on Sarah's shoulders and was mirroring Sarah's breaths. Sarah lifted a shaky finger and pointed at the girl's head.

"What? My mask? Well, you were freaking out and I thought it was scaring you on top of everything else and you looked like you were about to pass out and…I didn't really know what to do and…This is my first night out okay. I don't really know the rules. Please don't tell anyone what I look like? I don't even really have a name yet. I'm sorry if I scared you. We don't have to go to the PRT if you don't want to. I…I understand not trusting the people in charge." Her voice got so soft that Sarah could barely hear her as she continued, "It's never really helped me in the past."

Has problems with school or home. Abuse at home would imply she sought help with police, yet first suggested police for assistance, trusts them. Issues at school. Sought help with administration. Administration failed to act. Lack of friends. Lack of support. Triggered from school trauma. Needs support. Desperate for friends. Needs to be helpful. Unmasked to be helpful.

Can be an ally. Will trust fully if not given a reason to suspect betrayal.

Sarah nodded slowly, as much answering her power as the girl.

"I want to help," the girl said, softly, her hands still on Sarah's shoulders. "We can go somewhere safe. I can…I don't have a lair yet, um, do you have somewhere I can take you? Someone you trust?"

Sarah shook her head.

The girl grimaced. "Damn. Okay, so no police, no PRT, no one you trust in the city…screw it. We don't use the basement much anyway, would you be okay with staying in my house for a few days until I can find someone you trust that can help?"

Sarah opened her mouth -

Wants to help. Will be an ally. Will not use you for power.

- and immediately snapped her jaw shut again. Breathing out a shaky puff of frigid air, she nodded once.

The girl smiled and stood. She held out her hand towards Sarah, waiting for Sarah to slip her smaller hand into the wide grip before pulling Sarah to her feet. "Great. I'm Taylor. It's nice to meet you. If you give me a minute I can take the rest of this off and we can walk back pretending to be normal. I have a spare change of clothes in a backpack a block away that you can use. Might be a bit baggy on you though."

Wants to help. Will be an ally.

Sarah smiled. Her nod this time was strong enough to actually be something she was proud of.