Reality came back to me, bringing with it the sound of arguing. Before I had time to actually make out what the arguing was about, everything went black again. The next time I became aware again I found my arms and legs bound in containment foam. I immediately started falling but I was caught by a pair of PRT troopers. My mother was nowhere in sight. The only people I could see were the two troopers and Emma.

The troopers carried me out to a black PRT van and Emma ran ahead to open the doors for them. They set me down on the floor and Emma climbed in. When the van started, I felt vibration coming through the metallic floor.

"Emma!" I shouted to get her attention. Again, it had an inhuman shriek underlying it. "Why am I in here!" I began struggling and discovered that my tail was also trapped in the foam.

She turned to look at me, though I couldn't see her face because of her helmet. I couldn't help but find it uncomfortable to look at. It gave me some perspective on what it must be like talking to me. "Please, call me Ricochet."

"Emma, I know it's you, we were like sisters. Please, just tell me why you won't let me see my mom," I pleaded.

She just stared at me for a moment before speaking calmly. "Look, since I'm in costume it's very important that you refer to me by my alias, Ricochet, even if you think you know my name. It's for my own safety. So, I'll make you a deal. Start calling me by alias and I'll answer your questions as best as I can, alright?"

I just nodded. As much as I just wanted her to drop the act I wasn't really in any position to argue that. If I wanted any information I'd have to play along, so I just nodded.

"Alright," Ricochet said as she leaned forward a bit. "I want you to put yourself in my shoes for a moment. I go to check on a civilian as a favor to a friend and I find someone claiming to be a girl that went missing five years ago." I went rigid when I heard her say that. I had been gone for five years? The thought was dizzying. Ricochet continued on. "But she looks nothing like the photos in the missing persons report. But I can't just leave her alone with the woman she claims is her mother. What if she's been conditioned by some power to believe that she's Taylor Hebert?"

"So, what, I can never see my mom because I 'might not be me?'" I asked sarcastically.

The Ward shook her head. "No," she said calmly, "That's not it at all. Have you ever heard of master/stranger protocols?" I shook my head. "They're a set of protocols designed to rule out imposters and people being manipulated by master-powers. They're supposed to be pretty thorough."

I did not like the sound of that. Not one bit. I began struggling, trying to break free from the containment foam. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but I refused to just let them run tests on me. "So you just want to poke and prod me, is that it?"

Ricochet held her hands up in a calming gesture. "Woah, woah, woah! Calm down! It's just some tests."

"Like what?" I snapped at her.

"Like an MRI scan for one," she explained. "And they'll ask some questions. You know, to see what's lighting up in your brain. Make sure it's, you know, your thoughts. Actually, I think most of it's just observation with some tinker tech, though I don't know the specifics." Then she took on a thoughtful look. "Actually, a DNA test could clear this up pretty quickly, especially with some tinker-tech we have. And if it'll make you feel a bit better I'll stop by once this situation with the ABB is over."

I stopped struggling and settled for giving her a skeptical look before realizing that she couldn't see it. "You don't believe me so why should I expect you to be nice?"

Ricochet just leaned back and sighed. "Look, I really do want to believe you. I really want you to be this girl who has been missing for five years." That again. Five years. How did I not remember any of it? "But that also makes it even more important to follow the rules on this, otherwise I could end up letting my wants color my decisions. Besides, I wasn't lying when I said it wasn't safe there. You'll be safer spending a day at Protectorate HQ."

I laid my head down and sighed. It sounded like a serpentine hiss more than any human sound. At the very least she seemed sincere. I wasn't convinced that this was going to go well, but Ricochet wasn't going to change her mind and there wasn't really anything I could do. Containment foam was practically indestructible and could hold parahumans much, much stronger than I was.

After that an uncomfortable silence fell upon the van. I laid my head on the floor and just watched the van doors. However, Ricochet apparently became uncomfortable with the silence as well as she attempted to break it. "So, Taylor, how did you get in that house? I didn't see any signs of forced entry."

I just snorted and gave her an incredulous look. "So you're calling me Taylor, now? I thought you 'couldn't be sure I was me?'" I really wished I had my hands free if only so I could put in the appropriate air quotes.

Ricochet just shrugged. "Well, I don't know what else to call you and I doubt that you'd like to be called 'you' or 'girl' or something. So, how'd you get in?"

"I used the spare key, like anyone who's been locked out of their own house would."

Ricochet nodded. "So, if you've been missing for five years, then where have you been? How'd you get like this?" As she asked the question she gestured to my entire body.

"I don't know."

Ricochet leaned in. "Do you know who abducted you?"

I shook my head. "No. I just remember waiting in the park for-" I had almost said 'you,' but Emma was adamant about me calling her 'Ricochet.' I'd have to ask about that name when I got a chance. In the mean time I had a story to continue. "I was waiting in the park for a friend and her dad to pick me up. They were running a bit late, but I wasn't worried. Then I remember someone putting a weird-smelling cloth over my face and everything went dark. Then I woke up in a tank."

Ricochet cocked her head. "A tank?"

I nodded. Then I began to tell her about what happened after I woke up and how I escaped. She leaned in to listen. I continued the story and I told her that it was a Medhall warehouse I had escaped from. I even told her about the things I had seen in the darkness. She was a Ward, part of the Protectorate. This was something they should know about. When I told her about being shot she quickly moved to look at my arm. Fortunately, the acid blood had coagulated by now and left little trace otherwise things could have gotten messy.

After she was done, Ricochet leaned back. "Well, the wound looks worse than it probably is. I'm not sure what that…exoskeleton of yours is made of, but it looks like the bullet just cracked it. I couldn't see any sign of an actual bullet hole. Still, it sounds like you've had a pretty hard time tonight."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "So I answered your questions but I have one of my own, Ricochet." She nodded at me. "What's going on in Brockton Bay? What's with the explosions? And why are the ABB everywhere?"

"That's fair, I guess. Based on the reports they have the same cause, an ABB lieutenant named Bakuda. You wouldn't have heard about it, but recently Lung was taken into PRT custody." My head reeled back in surprise. Who had been able to overcome Lung of all people? "Yeah, that's been a big story for the last week. Anyway, she's been on a bombing spree for hours and she seems to have been recruiting HARD and has been using that extra gang-power to cause more havoc on top of the explosions. The police, the PRT, the Protectorate, and even the Wards have all had their hands full since then."

"It sounds pretty bad," I told her.

Ricochet shook her head. "It's not a great situation, no."

"Well," I began uneasily, "At least my mom is alright. Since you claimed to be doing a friend a favor, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to my dad? Or who the other kid was?"

Ricochet's posture became stiff and she seemed to grow uncomfortable. "I...can't tell you about that."

"Can't or won't?" I asked.

Ricochet dropped her head before she spoke. "I can't." Her voice had more conviction in it this time.

I just huffed in annoyance. Here I was in a PRT van, trapped in containment foam, and my best friend was refusing to acknowledge that she knew me. I couldn't think of how this could get much worse. I did my best to ignore her for the rest of the ride to the PRT headquarters.

It wasn't much longer before the van stopped and the doors were opened. A pair of PRT troopers picked me up and took me into the building, followed by Ricochet. As soon as I was brought into the building it was chaos. PRT agents were running everywhere. Some of them were carrying papers while others were escorting gang-members, though I noticed I was the only person in containment foam.

We stopped at the front desk and I was set on the ground while, though much more carefully than I had expected. They stopped at a desk and set me on the ground, though much more carefully than I had expected. One of them began filling out some paper on a clipboard. Before long they picked me back up and I was taken through a series of hallways all painted eggshell-white.

I was eventually taken to a cell and set on the ground. One of the PRT agents waited by the door with Ricochet while another one approached with a spray can of some kind. He sprayed some chemical over the foam and it quickly began dissolving. Before I was free of the foam he left the room and stood next to the other agent.

Ricochet looked at me. In a calm, soft voice she said, "I just want you to know that you're not in trouble. No matter what happens you'll be out of here before long, I promise. We should have time to do the DNA test first thing tomorrow and then we can clear this whole thing up, though the PRT'll probably still want to perform the master/stranger protocols. Oh, and someone should be by soon with food. I can't say PRT food is the best, but it's edible." She then pointed to a door off to the side. "There's a restroom in that room right there. I'll stop by as soon as I can, but for now I need to get back out there." She then closed the door and I was left to myself.

I looked around. It was actually pretty sparsely decorated. There was a bed against the wall directly opposite the door with plain white sheets and a plain white blanket. Next to the door there was a desk with a chair, placed so that it would be the first thing you would see when you opened the door. Now that the containment foam had dissolved I was able to walk over and look at the desk. Fortunately the back of the chair wasn't solid. It had two struts running from the seat to a small panel for back support with plenty of room between them for my tail. Right now, I didn't want to try to find a comfortable position with my new appendage.

As I inspected the desk I found that the top lifted and I found some paper and a basic ballpoint pen in there. I closed the desk when I heard the door open. There was a PRT agent carrying a round, black plastic container with some napkins on top. She held the container out to me and spoke. "I've brought you something to eat."

"Thanks," I said quietly. I noticed that she was holding it at arm's length and was only half-way in the door with another agent standing behind her, just outside. I took the container and she quickly left and closed the door.

I set the container on the desk and opened it. I didn't have any utensils, but it looked like I wouldn't need any. My meal consisted of a hamburger patty, some baby carrots, and a few apple slices. Call it stress or depression or whatever you wanted, but I didn't feel like eating. I just wanted to curl up and sleep.

I grabbed the blanket off of the bed and began crawling under the bed. I had no idea why, but it just looked so much more comfortable under there than on the bed, in the open. I curled up into the fetal position and wrapped the blanket around myself. As soon as I did I felt a sudden exhaustion come over me from the stress of the day. I let out a sobbing sigh and I quickly fell asleep.