As soon as I heard the sounds of dad's snoring through the walls, I carefully slid out of bed. Within minutes, I'd gathered my stashed supplies and changed from my pajamas to my spider-silk armor. I glanced at the clock - 12:15 A.M. Tonight, I was going to be a hero.

Everything was ready: my costume was finished, I had a fresh can of pepper spray, there were zip-ties in my pockets, and I'd spent the last of my allowance on a pair of off-brand epipens, just in case. Finally, I threw an old hoodie and a pair of sweatpants over my costume - I wasn't going to risk being seen leaving the house dressed as a cape.

I crept down the stairs and out the front door as quietly as possible, making sure to skip the broken step leading up to the porch.

There was a broken streetlight about a block away from my house, and it was here that I shed the hoodie and sweatpants, shoving them into a nearby bush and hoping they wouldn't be discovered. Pulling my mask over my face, I started on a jog towards ABB territory, gathering bugs as I went.

I wasn't quite sure how I was really going to find a crime. Everyone knew the Docks were the bad part of town, but could I really just run around and stumble upon a mugging? I sent my swarm outwards, scouting the nearby blocks and alleys, but nothing really screamed "crime." So far, I'd only found one person, and that turned out to be an old man smoking a cigarette from his porch. The longer I walked, the sillier I began to feel, until in the distance I felt a small group of people.

I ducked into a nearby alleyway, focusing on what I could sense from my bugs.

A group of six figures, arranged in a loose semicircle. Two were standing; the rest I was pretty sure were sitting down. The ones on the ground were moving their hands around a pile of… something in the center of the gathering. The ant that I sent to scout it out was stepped on; the next, pushed off-track, and the moth that fluttered down was swept away. I was immediately suspicious.

ABB members planning a heist? Gathering a stockpile of guns and money?

I crept closer, poking my head out from the alleyway to assess the situation with my eyes.

There was a group of six Asian teens, some sitting and some standing around the steps of a boarded-up shop. Two of them had green and red bandanas around their necks; another had one hanging from the pocket of his pants. If I had to guess, I'd have put the group's average age at about eighteen.

One of them rolled a pair of dice then took a long swig from a can of beer. Others cheered and shoved each other as money exchanged hands, needling each other in another language. In the center, cards and dice. Off to the side, a pile of beers and a bag of chips.

ABB members drinking and gambling. The cops were overworked enough - underage drinking was the least of their concerns, even if gangbangers were involved. They weren't hurting anyone here. Unless they committed a real crime where someone would see it, the police wouldn't care. A little like Winslow, really. Didn't matter how much they hurt people, they weren't doing anything now, so they weren't worth the effort of getting them off the streets.

With a quiet sigh, I turned to leave, but I had barely gone a few steps when a loud exclamation had me spinning back around.

The biggest of the gangbangers, clearly drunk, had pulled a gun on one of the others, swaying and waving it around as the others tried to talk him down in Chinese. That was all the excuse I needed to engage.

Time to be a hero.

My bugs were in motion the instant I had the thought, descending upon the gangbangers in a thick cloud.

First step: separate them.

"Shit, cape!" one of them yelled. They scattered, urged onwards by clouds of flies and moths and more buzzing around their heads. I was careful not to bite or sting any of them, but being smacked in the faces by hundreds of bugs was enough of a distraction on its own.

One of them, screaming like a girl, charged right past my hiding spot, blind to everything around him as he swung his arms at the insects around his head.

I let him run; his only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, there were no other big groups of people within my range, so I doubted he could get reinforcements before I was long gone.

While most of the group was occupied swatting the bugs that were swarming them, I focused my attention on the thug with the gun; he was the most dangerous, and the only one who could actually be charged with a crime. I had my fliers drop spiders onto the gun, which quickly climbed into the barrel and began to gum up the chamber with webbing. At the same time, I had a group of wasps focus on stinging the hand holding the weapon.

My plan worked: he dropped the gun, cursing and swinging his arms wildly to try to ward off the bugs. The gun hit the ground without discharging, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when I realized that the safety was still on.

Now that the group was thoroughly occupied with the bugs, I moved forward, pepper spray in hand.

Most of the thugs had fled the scene, but two were left: the one who'd had the gun, and the biggest of the gangbangers, who charged when he saw me. An ABB bandana was wrapped around the lower half of his face, keeping his nose and mouth safe, and he was evidently less bothered than his companions by insects.

I redirected my swarm from the disarmed thug to the big guy, trying to slow him down, but he was clearly past the point of caring. I backed up, but his strides were longer than mine, and soon his first punch was flying at me.

Luckily, this thug looked scarier than he actually was. Maybe if he wasn't drunk, he might've posed a problem, but as it was all his swings were telegraphed enough for me to dodge them. When one of his punches did land, it was easy to shrug off the blow and keep moving. Either my costume was better at absorbing hits than I thought, or his punch was weaker than Sophia's.

Soon enough, my opportunity came: he stumbled, and I answered with a knee to his crotch and a stream of pepper spray to his face.

I knelt next to the thug, who was now on the ground moaning in pain, his hands cradling his family jewels. With one hand, I started digging for the zip ties in my gear compartment, while keeping the pepper spray pointed at him in case he decided to try something.

But my search was interrupted by the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of my head, and I realized with cold clarity that I hadn't actually disabled the armed thug past disarming him.

"Move an' I blow your brains out," he snarled.

I wanted to hit myself. Stupid. Careless. A real hero wouldn't make that kind of mistake. But as it was, I couldn't do anything more than kneel here, not until I knew if he'd noticed the safety. At this distance, the clogged barrel wouldn't do anything to save me; the gun would explode in his hand, and I'd be well in range of it.

"Drop the pepper spray, and stand up. Slowly. And don't even think about calling more of those fucking bugs."

I complied.

"Fucking capes, think you own the world an' shit, can't do jack with a gun to your head!" he laughed triumphantly. "Now put your hands on your head, get the fuck away from Zhang, and don't try anything funny."

I put my hands on my head, taking careful steps away from the downed thug - Zhang - while directing a single, tiny fly to the weapon in his hands, hopefully too small for him to notice. It crawled over the gun, zeroing in on that one critical detail...

I took a deep breath; I had only one opportunity to get this right.

I dived for the pepper spray on the ground, then spun and kicked the now-recovering Zhang in the stomach, making sure he'd stay down a little bit longer.

The gun in the nameless thug's hand clicked uselessly, and he screamed in frustration, "What the fuck did you do?!"

"You forgot the safety," I replied.

He glanced down at the gun, dumbstruck, and I pepper-sprayed him in the face.

In the end, there were two thugs on the ground, one clogged gun tossed aside, and me, standing triumphant. I'd probably have to expand my close-range combat past pepper spray and dick-kicking, but if it works, it works.

After zip-tying their hands behind their backs, I realized with a start that I didn't have any way to contact the police to come pick these guys up. I probably wouldn't have wanted to use a personal cell phone for that, anyway, but guiltily began to consider picking up a cheap phone for when I went out as a cape. As for right now, there had to be a payphone somewhere nearby, right?

Leaving a decent collection of bugs to stand guard - I wasn't making the same mistake twice - I let the rest of them disperse, hoping I could find a payphone by its shape if not by sight.

I was two blocks away when my bugs alerted me to a commotion by the two thugs. Their friends coming back to rescue them? I hadn't felt anyone approaching, nothing really except the wind, and focusing on my bugs' vision just showed me a confused jumble of colors and gave me a headache. Abandoning my search for a payphone, I turned and ran back towards the street where I'd left them, but I was wholly unprepared for the sight that awaited me.

It was like a scene out of a horror movie. The two goons, both a little beaten up when I'd gone, were now bloodied beyond recognition. I was certain they were dead, because how could they still be alive with their guts decorating the ground? I felt sick. They were scum, and they definitely deserved jail, but not this.

The figure looming over the two dead thugs turned in my direction, casually flicking the blood and entrails from the head of her spear.

Her costume seemed to favor elegance over practicality. She wore a black evening gown, the fabric sweeping gracefully down to her ankle on one side while stopping at mid-thigh on the other. The gray spandex bodysuit she wore under it covered her from ankle to neck, but it was tight enough that it left nothing to the imagination. Her face was completely hidden by a white and red fox mask, artfully framed by her dark hair. Carried easily in her left hand was an ornate spear, longer than she was tall.

The ABB's 3rd cape: Rakshasa.

I was painfully aware that all I had to defend myself was a tube of pepper spray and bugs. That had barely been enough for your average thug, but against an experienced cape on my first night out?

I was just as dead as Zhang and his friend.

Hope came from the unlikeliest of sources: an old video from PHO, Krieg vs. Rakshasa, that I'd stumbled across while researching the various capes of Brockton Bay. Between exchanging blows, they'd kept nearly a full conversation going. While most words were too muffled to make out, it was clear enough that they both loved the sound of their own voices.

For the sake of stalling, it was worth a shot.

"Why did you kill them?" I asked, silently directing the slow march of bugs back to me. "Their friends called you for help, didn't they? So why did you kill them?"

Rakshasa paused for a moment, considering.

"It seems we've been drawn together under a case of mistaken identity," she answered. Her tone was affable enough, but I was still on edge. Her words invited encouragement, though, so I obliged.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here expecting a trap, you see. A certain group of villains has been making themselves nuisances in our territory, and their style of combat is well-suited to an ambush. To answer your question, I wasn't attacked on arrival, so I was certain those two were part of the trap, a distraction to lower my guard. Maybe they were Mastered, or rigged with Tinkertech, or any number of things. Better safe than sorry, so I killed them.

"And that brings me to you. A villain setting a trap wouldn't have been concerned about the state of their bait. A new hero, then, in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a rather unfortunate choice of costume," she concluded.

Don't think about the bodies. Don't think about the bodies. You can have a breakdown when you're home and safe.

Instead, I groaned aloud. Of all the nights to pick for my first night out, it had to be when the ABB was gearing up for a gang war! "Look, I didn't realize my costume was getting too edgy until it was almost done, and by then it was too late to fix it," I defended.

She laughed, then, and I was surprised to hear that it was a real one, not the mocking laughter I was so accustomed to. "I suppose today's your lucky day, then. I ask questions before I shoot, and I don't make a habit of killing children. Still, the ABB has a reputation to uphold, and I can't just let you go unchallenged, not after you've attacked my men. I'm sure you understand."

It was one thing to hear Rakshasa had a Mover rating, and another thing entirely to see it in action. She crossed the ten-yard gap between us before I had time to react, sweeping her spear in a downwards arc that would have cleaved me from shoulder to hip before delivering an open-palmed strike to my chest that knocked the breath out of me. My armor kept her spear from spilling my guts out, but it still hurt like hell. I stumbled backwards, but Rakshasa didn't press her advantage, instead stopping to tilt her head curiously at the fact that I was still standing.

"I don't suppose you're Asian? It's fine if you're not East Asian; Lung isn't picky about recruits."

I couldn't answer, too busy trying to regain my breath. That was her holding back? I'd given her the benefit of the doubt for a minute, but any sympathy I might've had was gone. Rakshasa was clearly a psychopath. I really hoped none of my ribs were broken, though if I couldn't figure out how to get out of this situation fast, then trying to explain that to Dad might be the least of my problems.

She took a casual step towards me, and I retaliated with a swarm of bugs. Barely glancing in their direction, she lifted a gloved hand and formed one of her orbs, a black sphere swirling with inner light, maybe the size of a basketball. With a flick of her wrist, it detonated, frying most of the bugs instantly and leaving an impression of a miniature sun burning my eyes.

"Mm, maybe Lung should be picky, though. Is that really all you can do? Impress me, little fly," she purred.

I bombarded her with a constant stream of bug clouds, which she blasted out of the air with lazy efficiency. I didn't like depleting the bug population like this, but I needed to keep her busy while I set my trap. The plan was working, at least: Rakshasa seemed happy to play with me, calling out comments that trod the line between encouragement and mockery. It was a little more pleasant than some of the needling I'd get at school, but not by much.

"Vary your directions - perhaps two at once, if you can manage that? Do you have fine control? No? Some powers just don't quite make the cut."

She wanted fine control? I'd show her fine control.

As this exchange was going on, I had snuck a handful of spiders to her ankles, commanding them to spin their silk around her legs as quickly as possible. At the same time, I prepared a tiny strike force of high-impact bugs for when it was time to make my move.

If there was anything Rakshasa and I had in common, it was one particular vanity: our hair. As I put my plan into action, I resolved to fix that flaw in my own costume, no matter how much I didn't want to.

Bees, wasps, and hornets all stung the exposed flesh at the back of her neck.

I wasn't exactly sure what I expected.

If she was a combat precog like some of PHO insisted, she might've harnessed her Mover rating to dodge the bugs, somehow - and then gotten tripped up in the web around her feet. I hadn't used a particularly nasty combination of bugs. It would hurt, yes, but I'd held back everything lethal. I figured maybe the shock would stun her for a second, and I could take the opportunity to run. Either she let me go, content after roughing me up a bit and seeing what I could do, or she followed. Same conclusion, then: feet meet web, face meets ground.

What I did not expect was for her to scream, and then fall to the ground convulsing, grasping at her throat.

My heart sank at the one possibility I had ignored.

Rakshasa was allergic to bees.

I debated leaving her. She was a murderer dozens of times over, and could very well have killed me even while 'going easy' on me. She'd helped to ruin Brockton Bay with her very presence, and the city would be better off without her.

I thought of Zhang and his friend, whose name I never learned, dead in the street. Their friends had called Rakshasa for help, and she'd killed them both over some stupid imagined gang fight.

I took a step away, and then stopped, watching as the villain convulsed on the ground.

No. You're better than that.

She'd made the choice to let me live when she could've left me a smear on the ground. The least I could do was repay the courtesy.

I pulled an epipen out from the compartment at the back of my costume, but then I froze with indecision once again.

Could it be an act? Was Rakshasa conscious? If she was, would she even let me approach? Or was she too far gone to care? I directed a few bugs to the epipen, but I already knew there was no way I could use them to inject her. They didn't have the strength to hold the pen straight and push it into her thigh, even if the epipen could make it through the fabric of her costume. Even worse, she might be allergic to some other bug, too, and them touching her would only make it worse.

No, it would have to be me.

But before I could take a single step forward, I heard the roar of a motorcycle, and the street was flooded with light.

The hero pulled to a stop, all but throwing her helmet off and running over once she caught sight of Rakshasa on the ground. "What-"

"Bees - didn't know she was allergic - thought she'd attack if I tried to approach," the words spilled out of me as I pushed the epipen into Incarnate's hands.

"Stay right here," she ordered, taking the injector from me and quickly kneeling at Rakshasa's side.

In one smooth motion she removed the cap and plunged the epipen into the villain's thigh, while at the same time she began to speak rapidly into her earpiece: "Console, I've got a severely-injured Rakshasa just north of Plymouth and Howard, anaphylactic shock, gonna need an ambulance ASAP and maybe Panacea, too. Two deceased John Does with her. Armsmaster, no eyes on Lee but R and the Third are here with me, watch your Six if you engage-"

Help was on the way. I felt myself relax, just a little. Looking for a distraction from everything awful that had happened tonight, I focused on the Brockton Bay hero, instead.

Compared to some of the Protectorate's capes, Incarnate was a relative newcomer, with fewer than two years on the force. While Triumph was technically her junior, he'd graduated from the Wards to the Protectorate. Incarnate's first appearance as an adult hero had been a bit of an anomaly, but she'd quickly settled in to become a main figure in Brockton Bay. PHO loved her as much for her looks as for her power, but something about her had always rubbed me the wrong way.

Maybe it was the hair - Incarnate's firetruck red was a far cry from Emma's natural ginger, but there was still an unwelcome resemblance. Her figure was definitely a part of it. She wore a tight black bodysuit, strategically unzipped from the neck downwards to expose as much cleavage as possible, and it was only marginally improved by the open white and red trenchcoat she draped over it. The whole thing screamed "sex appeal," and it was no surprise that her biggest fans on PHO were teenage boys.

The ambulance arrived, and I shifted uneasily as the paramedics loaded Rakshasa onto a stretcher. Both they and Incarnate had glanced at the dead gangbangers, but they'd all come to the same conclusions I did: gone. None of them seemed to pay me any mind, and Incarnate was too busy rattling off orders on proper restraints and what to do if the villain regained consciousness. I seriously considered slipping away while they were all occupied, but a sharp look from the hero as I began to inch backwards stopped that idea in its tracks.

As the ambulance drove off, I braced myself for a lecture on safety when Incarnate turned to look at me, hoping that it wouldn't be too long. I was tired, everything hurt, and all I really wanted was to sleep.

Incarnate gave me a long, considering look. "What's your cape name?" she asked.

I shuffled back and forth awkwardly, a little surprised by the apparent non sequitur. "I hadn't come up with one yet. This was my first night out."

That seemed to catch her off guard a little, but she recovered quickly. "Swarm, then, for now?"

That was one of the names I'd rejected as a little too villainous, but if Incarnate suggested it then it couldn't have been too bad. I nodded my acceptance.

The hero took a deep breath, shifting into a fighting stance as I began to register how horribly I had misjudged this situation. I couldn't run with my injuries, and I couldn't fight against a pyrokinetic. I was well and truly screwed.

Then Incarnate spoke, her voice cold as ice. "Swarm, you're under arrest for two counts of murder, potentially a third. Your cooperation so far has earned you a measure of leniency; will you surrender peacefully?"


A/N: Assuming nothing changes in real life, standard update cadence is going to be kind of slow. I'm hoping that posting an SB thread (look out for it later today!) will help with inspiration, but I've got a packed schedule this semester which cuts into my writing time. I'll do my best to keep the wait reasonable, though. As for content, here's a preview: Lisa gets Chapter 3, back to Taylor for Chapter 4, then Amy gets Chapter 5. Small chance I'll swap the positions of Amy and Lisa chapters, just because I've had an easier time writing Panacea.

Thanks for reading!