It had started to rain by the time we got back to our hideout after meeting with Faultline. The light drizzle and cold, almost foggy day-turning-evening was visible from Lisa's bedroom window as the girl sat and stared at me with considering eyes. "OK. So let's try again. A full set of constructed illusions. Something obvious."

I nodded, and between us a floorboard splintered upwards, revealing a clawed white paw. Slowly, the crack enlarged and an undead rabbit pulled itself free of its grave. It began to hopple over to Lisa, swaying drunkenly in a meandering path towards her. A small, groaning squeak escaped its little maw.

From the technical side of things, there was a lot happening. Besides enforcing the zombie rabbit on Lisa's perspective, I maintained the splintered floorboards, the sound of it's shuffling hops, the smell of decay, and the little trails of blood that the creature left behind as it moved towards its target. If she reached out to touch it, her Perspective was already ready to feel it's soiled fur and cold, hardened body. However, it was surprisingly... easy to juggle. Lisa had suggested early on that instead of doing one-off tweaks, I should instead try constructs, like a theme. She first had the idea after I explained why I had chosen to make Bird (who had vanished once outside of Labyrinth's range), how it felt right to work within Labyrinth's expectations and the rules of her universe. Once we got on that path, my tweaks of Perspective became full blown alternate realities, with my power handling all the little details that I had micromanaged previously.

The best way to explain it is like having two different modes. The first mode was where I made a simple enforcement of Perspective. It would be self-consistent and believable. Erasing myself from a cape's perspective, making Shadow Stalker's shoulder twinge in pain, my Specter avatar, and so on. Then there was the complicated stuff. The scene when Rachel's dogs attacked me was the most complex one so far, but Lisa and I had plans to take it further.

Another floorboard cracked and another furry little horror clawed its way into Lisa's bedroom. Then another, and another. Finally, the rain picked up and lightning flashed through the window. Outside, Lisa's perspective spied a giant figure in the distance, looming over apartment buildings and wearing a tarnished, broken crown. It's ears trailed along rooftops, ripping up rooftop equipment and tearing the railings off of fire escapes with it's their impossible weight. The zombie king of bunnies. As if it sensed her gaze, it turned and looked at Lisa with a blank, red eye. Then, it screeched, and the glass on the bedroom window shattered under the strain. Wind and water and glass flew into the bedroom and...

Lisa was up on the bed, kicking at the zombie bunnies that were climbing up the sheets, yelling, "OK, Taylor!" Kick, and a rabbit went flying. "That's enough. You-" kick- "Can stop now!"

Suddenly, Lisa's Perspective was alone on the bed, looking at the wiry girl with dark curls and a grinning, wide mouth. "That was... disturbing. So I guess we can confirm the theory then. Your power is perfectly willing to do the heavy lifting if you give it a framework."

I nodded, pleased at how successful the test had been.

"How about we try again, this time try something sticking to reality. Something you could take a cape in and out of without them ever realizing they were manipulated." She let out a breath, "Please just... don't make it scary this time?"

I nodded, and grabbed a hold of Lisa's Perspective again.

There was a knock on the door, and Lisa rolled her eyes. "Hold that thought."

She opened the door and Brian stood there. "Yeah?"

He nodded to me before saying to Lisa, "Almost done? I was thinking of grabbing dinner. Get to know Taylor a bit more if she can stay for a bit longer."

Through Lisa's Perspective I heard her power begin to make connections. Interested in Taylor. Impressed that we made such headway with Faultline's Crew and credits it to her. Wants to make sure she feels welcomed to the team. Is OK with us taking leadership of the group.

"Almost done. Go ahead and order. No pizza though."

"Spoilsport!" Alec yelled from the common area.

Brian nodded, "Chinese then?" Brian's eyes flicked to me again and Lisa's power doubled down on interested in Taylor.

"Sure," I said.

"Kung Pao Chicken," Lisa said. "Now if you'll excuse us."

She closed the door and walked back to the bed. "Now, where... were..." She saw my radiant smile.

"That was all fake, wasn't it?"

I just smiled.

With a huff, she walked over to the door and yanked it open. "Brian, order me some damn Kung Pao Chicken!"

****ADMINISTATION****

As soon as Shadow Stalker came into my range, I knew something was off. She was looking for me. That hadn't been something she had done since the locker and I quickly skimmed from her thoughts that she was suspicious. Apparently Emma had told her about out little bathroom confrontation yesterday. Between that, a routine check-in by Miss Militia about her school life that was very uninformed, and a number of meetings with her PRT handler, she was getting the impression that she may have been fooled. She had no clue what actually happened, and her suspicions were undefined, but definitely there. So, true to her bullshit about the strong and weak she was planning on, in her words, 'looking me in the eyes' to see if I was acting unusually defiant like Emma had claimed.

Well, the obvious course of action was avoidance. The morning between classes was spend ducking into bathrooms, classrooms, and taking alternate paths from where my other Perspective traveled. We were two opposing magnets, chasing and dancing around each other. However I made sure my two bubbles of awareness never overlapped, where she could see me.

That plan had performed well enough until Glady's history class, where Madison had surreptitiously texted Shadow Stalker and informed her of my presence. At her desk a floor down and on the opposite side of the school, she smirked in satisfaction. I could feel her Perspective's anticipation at having finally found it's quarry, and her plan to duck out of class a few minutes early to make sure she caught me. The dedication actually caught me somewhat by surprise and it hit me that Shadow Stalker's suspicion made this serious.

The stakes had been raised. I could feel the walls closing in, my stomach dropping to settle low in my gut. Shadow Stalker wanted to know why things weren't adding up with the narrative I had fed her after the locker. She thought that, just maybe, she had been tricked. And with Shadow Stalker? That was unacceptable. This could spiral out of my control. I could be exposed. I could-

No. No way. I wasn't going to give in to this. I wasn't going to be intimidated by the threat of Shadow Stalker's attention . She was my plaything, not the other way around.

I remembered when I had gotten the flu last winter, when both Dad and I had neglected to schedule our shots. I remembered the misery of feeling the flu build in my stomach, the mix of suspicion and inevitability of what was about to happen. That helplessness of heaving up an empty stomach, crouched in front of a white porcelain bowl, little flecks of my dinner dancing around the edges of the water.

Slowly, gradually, I tightened my control of her sense of touch, twisting her perception to make her feel a flutter in her stomach. Then, after a few minutes, she felt a knot and a simmering warmth. After the class period was two-thirds through, it had bloomed into full-blown nausea, steadily increasing in intensity. I used the new technique I had pioneered with Lisa, to focus on the outcomes of what I wanted Shadow Stalker to feel, rather than the mechanics of each shift of Perspective. She felt a nonexistent flush of cheeks, sweat that no one else could see, a clamminess of hands that couldn't be felt by anyone else.

Finally, I pulled the trigger, and sent that indescribable feeling of knowing, without a doubt, that you were going to throw up. Through my power I heard Shadow Stalker raise a shaky hand and say, "Mr. Miller, I feel really sick and need to-"

Her stomach pushed upwards and Shadow Stalker burst from her seat, running for the door with a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She had only made it a few steps into the hallway when she doubled over and heaved.

I was surprised that she actually threw up. I covered my satisfied smile with a hand as my Perspective dropped to hands and knees for a repeat performance, Mr. Miller rushing out the door from the classroom with an exclaimed, "Sophia!"

After that, she was shuffled to the nurse's office and her mother was called. I began to ease off of her symptoms as she waited with a plastic bag in her hands, miserable and fuming. The idea was a gradual transition into her natural, healthy state as she was leaving the school and my range of influence. A job well done.

As the period wrapped up, I could see Madison's frown grow as she repeatedly checked her phone for a message that never came. When the bell rang, I was the first one out the door into a hallway clear of capes and former friends.

****ADMINISTATION****

The bell above the door jingled as Lisa and I stepped into Parian's Dollhouse later that afternoon. The cape looked up at us and her eyes widened behind her mask. It was white porcelain with puckered red apple lips. Barely visible cracks ran spiderwebs across the mask's surface. Her Perspective was tweaked, of course, and showed Tattletale and Specter standing at her counter. Fabrics, dresses, and clothes covered both walls in waving drapes, not a square inch of the painted cinder block visible beneath. I could even see a few of her deflated animals ready to awaken and serve at a moment's notice. This was a queen in her throne room and all around slumbering guards were ready to serve their master's wishes.

"Can I help you?" Parian asked politely. Internally she was suspicious and... was that Farsi? Huh... I hadn't suspected that little twist. Parian, Sabah, continued to wait politely for a response, her gloved hands folded on her dress, one in front of the other, her hidden hand clenching open and closed. The gloves were a creamy cloth, but I imagined the creaking of leather as she bled her nerves into the movement.

"Yes," Tattletale said. Specter here is looking for a costume. Something protective and simple, and a mask."

Parian's eyes returned to me, taking in my assumed form, and then she shrugged. "Okay... you're the customer." She stepped around the counter and lifted a slender arm. A bolt of cloth tugged itself free from its cubbyhole and whipped through the air like a magic carpet. It wrapped itself around my form tightly, like a mummy. This was one risk we had agreed to take in getting a costume. Parian's surprised gasp as the cloth surrounded my real body was a dead giveaway that she had noticed a difference in what she saw and what she felt through her power. Her thoughts sped up and switched fully to Farsi, but I understood regardless. 'A girl. Young, slim. She feels cute.' Tattletale's smirk grew wider as she picked up on Parian's thoughts. Just a hitch in the breath and a lowering of the head to give away that little secret.

"We expect your discretion, Parian- as a rouge and professional both," Specter said, and Parian jumped.

"Yes, of course. I do the same for all my clients. It's... well known that I'm discreet." She jotted down a few measurements and then the cloth fell away from my body. The impression of my face, however, was still in the cloth, held in place by Parian's power. She cut out that section from the rest of the cloth, "I'll use that to shape the inside of your mask, then destroy the mold. I can also give it back to you if you want to handle destroying it yourself. Your choice."

Specter said, "Destroy it."

Parian nodded, "And the design of the costume? Any ideas on, err," she eyed my form again, confusion flitting across her mind. 'Changer, maybe?'

"Something simple," Specter said. He shifted and looked around the room, as if to get ideas from the surrounding bolts of cloth. "Dark and protective, but not restrictive." Parian looked at his starry form and her confusion intensified.

"I can do that," she said instead, looking into the two glowing spots that served as Specter's eyes. "A mix of steel plate over the essentials and Kevlar over the rest. Its normal steel so don't expect protection from anything... exotic."

I nodded, making my avatar's eyes wink out as if they had been closed. It was a simple thing, but the disturbing thought of two galaxies vanishing was... unsettling to most people.

The effect wasn't lost on Parian as she shivered beneath her mask and gloves, unseen goosebumps prickling under her long sleeves.

"Thank you," Tattletale cut in. "And make this a rush order. We'll pay whatever you think is fair."

A few more details were hashed out. The gender the costume should project, the defining features we may want, what the mask should look like, the inclusion of an actual cape, and so on. Once Parian and Tattletale worked out a price and time frame, we left. Grue's darkness filled the street and Tattletale and I slipped out of our costumes. Through Brian's Perspective I could hear the screams of the civilians trapped in the darkness with us, but as I stuffed my domino mask into my bag and strolled along the cowering people, I smiled.

Lisa's car was where we left it. I got into the passenger seat and Lisa pulled out of the public lot for the Market. We turned the corner and picked up an unconsumed Brian waiting for us, shielding himself from the drizzle underneath an umbrella.

"So!" said Lisa as we pulled back into traffic, "Got some news concerning the Undersider's PR initiative. Coil's mercenaries have been brought into the fold for the most part, but there was some inevitable downsizing. Some bugged out due to the changes, others weren't trustworthy so I let them go. Not the team players we need, y'know?"

I turned to Lisa, "You kept on Coil's mercenaries? I thought you were cutting things down." Brian's employer, a few buildings for Rachel's future shelters... I hadn't gotten anything from Lisa's thoughts about this. I blushed at the indignation I felt and squirmed a bit.

"It's nothing big. Just a new, very well equipped private security firm. Coil's company had special permits for the weapons and equipment, and throwing away above board permits like that is wasteful."

"Not sure I feel good about this, Lisa," I said. Was I allowed the be angry at this? We were partners, after all, not a queen ruling her subjects.

"It's just an extra precaution in case we need some well trained henchmen. Cobra Security isn't really the point here anyways," Lisa said. "The captains informed me that some of the Toybox equipment is missing. Specifically six cases of laser rifles."

Brian spoke in his deep, calm voice, "The guys you fired stole laser rifles?"

Lisa shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. "The majority of theft for any business comes from its employees," she said. "The problem is that I think the rifles found their way into the hands of the Merchants."

"What? How?" Brian asked. I agreed with his unspoken thoughts. 'Why the hell would good mercenaries join the merchants?'

"Two reasons. One is Trainwreck. He was on Coil's paycheck and infiltrating the Merchants. I made him an offer to keep him on, but he wasn't interested. Coil promised him to look into his past, as a Case 53. A lie, of course, and one that he wasn't going to buy from me. Got some security footage of his guys walking out with the cases. So my money is that at least a small number of merchants may be considerably better equipped than they were a few days ago. Two, Skidmark's got money. He's got a reputation as a loser- some of which is deserved. No one ever claimed he was a penniless loser. He's got a lot of capes, he's got money, and he's got territory. Sometimes that's all you need."

"So the job just got a lot harder, then," Brian said.

"Not necessarily harder," Lisa said, "Just a bit more complicated."

****ADMINISTATION****

Despite all the talk on PHO, the Merchants were a lot harder to find than expected. Sure, their pushers weren't hard to find, despite the rainy evening. In fact it was hard to find a street corner that didn't have a dealer in sight. We struggled to avoid their notice as we pushed north and inland, skirting the ship graveyard to where the Merchants laid claim to their territory north of Archer Street. I had not come across any new Perspectives as we ventured into the worst slums of the Bay, and my frown deepened further.

Also, did I mention it was still raining? It was the type of light rain that was silent, falling from the darkened sky and streaking my head and shoulders with light touches. Those silent drizzles quickly added up, though, and my outermost layer of clothing had quickly been soaked through. While the raindrops themselves were silent, they became noisy once they came together to splatter from the rooftops enmasse.

It was a strange combination of silence and noise. Off in every direction, millions of drops streaked noiselessly from the night sky. They were slow, not heavy enough to break through the resistance of the air, but they seemed to have an inevitable sense of purpose to them. As they collected, however, all sense of purpose and individuality was lost. The water streamed off the rooftops and splashed onto the sidewalks and streets. The water was collected and directed into something boisterous and powerful, if lacking in finesse.

Usually, I loved this type of rain. A blanket, a book, a warm drink, and a seat by the window was my go-to combination for weather like this. At this particular moment however, I could have done without it. Combined with the stubborn, slushy snow lingering from what was expected to be the last snowfall of the season, I was miserable.

'Nothing yet?' Tattletale asked in her mind.

"No," I said directly to her Perspective. I had to 'speak' to reply to Tattletale's inner thoughts, which was something of a strange situation. I could listen to thoughts, so getting a message to me was as simple as thinking it. To respond, though, a manipulation of the senses was needed. I couldn't force a thought directly into her head. I simply made the tweak in Lisa's perspective so it seemed like I spoke.

Building off of the 'constructed realities' concept Lisa and I had come up with earlier, I hadn't actually spoken a word to anyone the entire night. Instead, I simply enforced all my responses on my Perspectives, as if I was talking. That way I could respond to one person, or to everyone, exactly when and how I wanted. No mistakes, no misunderstandings, no slips, no tells.

It was a system Lisa and I had agreed on as we got ready for Alec's 'Operation Bwnage.' If she thought a question to me, she would know any response was for her only. If she asked it out loud, she would assume I answered in kind, or at least tweaked the team's Perspectives to make it seem so.

"Still not getting anything," Tattletale said out loud to the rest of the team.

With a sharp whistle from the stocky girl sitting in front of me, the dogs shot forward.

We sprinted down the side streets and alleys where we got drenched by water streaming from fire escapes and leaky gutters. It was needed, though, to avoid as many watchful eyes as possible. We broke cover of the two tall brick buildings into an area dominated by high rise apartments. The buildings were large rectangles built out of concrete, their sharp lines and complete neglect of aesthetics made them seem like they had been copied right out of the former USSR. The buildings, turned almost black by smog, mold, and years of neglect, reached up a dozen stories each, packing the poor in tightly as if preventing them from escaping. The rain had washed away all but the most protected snow, and that dying slush did nothing to clear the air of pervasive hopelessness that blanketed this part of the Bay.

Still no new Perspectives as our monstrous mounts slowed to a trot, their paws both splashing through puddles and squelching up slush.

A beam of yellow light lanced out from one of the concrete apartment buildings and struck Angelica in the side, and her legs buckled from underneath her. I watched from multiples Perspectives as I launched into the air. My arms and feet flailed automatically to keep my stable, millions of years of evolutionary response kicking in. Millions of years of selection to see myself swimming through the air in a tangle of limbs and whipping hair. But it worked. I hadn't flipped, and the ground was coming up to meet me slowly.

Angelica had fallen to her side completely by now, sliding on the wet snow. An evil black and red mark opened the bone plating on her side and exposed red flesh underneath. Bitch was next to her fallen companion, having held on as the pair went down.

Wait... how? How did I have the time to process all of this? It wasn't exactly as if I was experiencing the world in slow motion. It was... as if... I had so much more ability to process and make decisions in real-time. The world was not slowed down, but my mind was some strange equivalent of being sped up, overclocked, to where I could work out my decisions accordingly. I had breathing room.

So I took those eight weeks of free gymnastics classes my parents had signed me up for four years ago and tucked towards the ground, moving my head into my chest and my legs upwards. I turned the flail into a smooth somersault. My feet hit the wet asphalt and I compensated for the slippery surface, burning off the rest of my inertia with a roll. The roll wasn't enough on its own. I wish I could say that I ended up on my feet, but my body did not have the capability of superhuman speed or strength. Instead I rolled, over and over, using my hands and tucking my shoulders with perfect synchronicity to ensure I wasn't injured past a few scrapes and bruises. I returned to my feet as Tattletale thought, 'Nice reaction time, there. Found a new trick?'

My moment of clarity diminished as another laser flashed the rain into steam and struck Judas. He didn't go down though, as Bitch had pushed her power to the max and her dogs grew even stringer. Then the street plunged into darkness as Grue activated his power. The darkness covered the whole street as the lasers became as numerous as the raindrops, striking into our blackened zone of safety at random. Through Grue's Perspective I saw steam rising, floating out of the darkness to struggle against the rain as the intense beams of light lanced into our position like a pincushion. When they entered the darkness, however, they lost most of their intensity.

'No longer instantly lethal,' Tattletale supplied helpfully. Regardless the world slowed down again in response to the threat, even more than when I was falling from Angelica. This new aspect of my power was not new, I realized. This was just the most obvious application of it. Everything was happening with a perfect clarity. Every action happening around me had a consequence. Every consequence caused another action, and that chain continued on into the future until there was a resolution. I couldn't see into the future, but I could see the present in perfect clarity. At every beat I could make a decision, insert a change into my Perspectives or by my own actions, with all the cold calculation of a Chess Grandmaster. I wondered if there was a word for that; with the PRT's vaunted rating systems and categories, post and precognatives. I supposed the proper term would be pericognative.

Despite my newfound processing ability, the beams of light were still traveling at the universal speed limit. One moment there was nothing, and another moment a brilliant searing beam tore a line through Grue's darkness from the rooftops.

A flash, and pain exploded from my side. I fell to the ground with a cry and curled into a fetal position by instinct. Oh shit... oh shit that hurts! Trapped. Helpless. This stupid power wasn't enough. I still wasn't strong enough to actually do anything. Taken out by unpowered mercenaries on rooftops. Rejects that hadn't even been good enough to make Tattletale's cut! I rolled to my knees, still doubled over with my forehead on the rough asphalt. I was soaked through, collected water rushing by and droplets streaming down my face. This... this wasn't okay. This was unacceptable. I needed more Perspective. The rain drops fell, I closed my eyes, and I opened the floodgates of my power.

...

The difference between my own senses and the faculties I was receiving through my power was a strange mix of clarity and blindness. It was as if I was looking at the world through sunglasses with a single lens popped out, the merged sight both fully bright and fully shaded, instead of some hybrid of both. The liquid smoke swirled around and through me, blocking out anything I could see and hear, but I still saw via Grue. That single point of reference was enough. I faded out the blackness into a light mist for my allies, enforcing Grue's clarity on them, and in turn I began to receive Tattletale's hyperactive assessment of the situation. Her powers allowed me to send back little tweaks to Grue, Regent, and Bitch, giving them insight. The snipers on the roof, the dirty thugs on the ground, Bitches whistle for her dogs to loop around, their monstrous claws digging gouges into the asphalt. Everything... everything began to fit into the appropriate place- all at once.

This was something I had never experienced while flexing my power. The clarity, the awareness, the sense of control. Was this my true power? My trick? I turned on my heel, spinning away from my teammates who were halfway back to me, watching the lasers burn through the rain. The snipers had seen me go down before Grue's blackness had gone up, so the majority of laser fire was hitting close to me. I stepped left to avoid a shot and it streaked by. Another came from behind, three stories up, and I twisted my shoulder to let it sizzle past me ear. Perfect clarity, efficient motion. The world passing in sync with my decisions. That was all I needed.

My side ached and I looked to see sticky blood. That first shot had been bad. Hand to the side, to feel for the severity of the wound, and a step forward to dodge a bullet fired into the darkness from a yellow-toothed Merchant. Burnt and cauterized, I noted. Three more strikes of laser weapons left glowing spots in the asphalt, no need to dodge. Grue was leaning down to scoop me up as they passed by, but a laser weapon was lining up to hit him in the back. Too sudden. I couldn't enforce a warning, as he wouldn't react fast enough. None of the Undersiders would. They didn't know what I could do, what was happening. They would consider, not react. They were too independent of my management, right now. However...

I copied Bitch's whistle, just so, and Judas jumped. The laser passed under Judas' flank and left a glowing pockmark in the street. Judas soared over me, and I felt Grue's despair as I passed beneath, staring calmly back, hand to the blackened scorch on my ribs.

Mere second had passed since my fall and activation of my real power, and already the situation was lost. This street was a kill zone. More shooters were bringing their weapons to bear. I saw myself dodge, one, two, three shots in quick succession, spinning like a dancer. Then there was no way out as the odds caught up to me. A shot hit my thigh with an electrical crackle and a smell of burning flesh. More pain as the ground raced up and-

****ADMINISTATION****

A blackened set of teeth greeted me as I woke. "Welcome to the Merchants," they said with a grin. I blinked. Everything was blurry, and my side hurt. Where was I? I closed my eyes and focused on my power. Five Perspectives.

Grin turned out to be Skidmark, the leader of the Merchants. He was observing me, my form slumped on a ratty couch. The rain had apparently picked up as it pounded against the barred window with newly found anger. I imagined it was trying to free me.

I opened my eyes again to be greeted with a blurry mess. I rolled over with a groan and covered my eyes, Apparently the laser, or something since, had done serious damage to my vision. Biting off any more noise I closed my eyes again, trusting in my Perspectives to show me what I needed to see. Skidmark was there, leering and gleeful that I was in obvious pain. In the kitchen was another Perspective. An elaborate setup of beakers, copper tubing, hot plates, and bunsen burners covered a peninsula countertop fronted by barstools topped with stained cushions. The equipment was manned by a parahuman named Cook. I hadn't heard of him before, but his thoughts pegged him as a Tinker. [Three hundred and twelve degrees. Agitate. Hook up to condensate. Insert anode and cathode, set to three thousand volts at two hundred milliamps. Check for crystal formation on cathode after five minutes.] The mental instructions were accompanied by Cook's indistinct mutterings and occasional sharp sniff as he moved beakers around his lab. Drugs. He was making tinker drugs.

Leaning in the doorway to the apartment was a busty woman in a formerly white tank top, glaring at me. Squeeler's mind brimmed with jealousy of my slumped form and Skidmark's unwanted attention. A heavy wrench was weighting down a utility belt on her hips, handle wrapped in leather with a few red buttons. A green light next to the buttons pulsed steadily.

Down below was another Perspective that was covered by a stinking, wet darkness. My breath hitched as I was forcibly reminded of the locker. But it was just trash- the unfortunate limitation of the telekinetic named Mush.

Finally, through the splattering window, across the street was yet another tinker- Trainwreck. Trainwreck was rather distinct from my other new Perspectives in that he wasn't even slightly affected by the drugs in his system. His sensations were sharp, his mind cunning. In the room with him were two mercenaries holding laser rifles. Coil's former men.

"Your shit ready, Cook?" Skidmark asked. "Gotta do this fast." Skidmark was keeping his eyes on my still form, lingering on my flat chest and small hips. Despite the leering gaze, he was watching carefully for any sudden or suspicious movement on my part. After all, I was wearing my cheap domino mask. Masks meant danger.

My side was on fire, burning, and I couldn't move without severe pain. Five Perspectives. I couldn't move, but I could work with this. I would. You can do this, Taylor. You saw what your power could do in the street.

"Please," I said to their Perspectives. A female voice, deep and sultry, with no panic. Confident. A cape they had never heard of before. "I don't want to fight. Let me go?" My true form was curled on the couch, slumped and unmoving, but they saw me sit up slowly as I spoke.

I raised my hand into the air in preparation for what I knew was coming, and was rewarded with a slap as Skidmark struck out at his Perspective's moving figure. He struck my hand.

Vector. Adult Tertiary. Warrior.

Information flooded my mind as I greeted Skidmark's power. Yes. This was what I needed. Something inside me flicked on, as I went into the same state that I had discovered on that street, surrounded by bullets, rain, and Grue's cavernous darkness. Skidmark began to speak, and I allowed it, "You stupid bitch! You think-"

****ADMINISTATION****

"I don't want to fight. Let me go?" Damn, that bitch had a sexy voice. But this was business, and a new cape was more important than a new bitch, so I slapped her as she began to push herself up.

"You stupid bitch! You think-"

She vanished in a puff of smoke and I saw a ghastly figure materialize beside Cook. Shit! "Get the stuff, shitbasket!" I yelled at Cook. He reached for his special cocktail, but the black figure reached it first. I laid down multiple fields of force in quick succession and knocked the smoky figure on her ass. Take that, motherfucker. The syringe flew through the air and I laid down my field so that it came towards me. I caught it just as there there was a noise from the kitchen, like an explosion mixed with voices being torn apart. A smoky figure rushed through the counter at me, so I caught the vial, pivoted and thrust the needle into that cuntlicker's neck. The motherfucker vanished with the same puff of smoke and a scream that made me believe that souls felt pain.

"Skids!" I saw the ghostly figure grab Squeeler and throw her across the room. I laid down a field to stop her momentum, but it didn't do much. Squeeler crunched against the bars and fell on the couch, and the ghostly apparition stood in the doorway, looking back at me. I could see galaxies spinning in her eyes. Then she fell forward onto the floor, and stayed there, a syringe sticking out of her neck.

Floodlights filled the room through the window, and I heard gunfire down below. Through the window came a voice amplified on a loudspeaker, and the thrum of helicopter blades, "This is the PRT. Come out with your hands in the air!"

"Fuck!" I yelled. "We gotta go, baby!"

"Skids... Skids..."

I looked at Squeeler on the couch, and everything stopped. Her face was bloody from a long, nasty gash on her forehead. She was clutching her side with one arm, only partially successful in blocking the hole in her stomach, leaking dark blood. The other arm was clearly broken. Her eyes were locked onto mine. Scared. I knew those eyes.

Gunfire rattled through the open doorway and containment foam splattered through the window, flecking the room in small goblets of rapidly expanding foam. I could see flashlights and the stomp of heavy boots heading towards us. I laid down multiple lines of my strongest force with a yelled, "Cocksuckers!" before turning back to Squeeler.

"Bitch, oh shit..."

"This ain't good, Skids," she said. I smelled a sharp smell, coming from behind her hand. "We gotta get to a hospital Skids. I can't fix this."

I nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, let's get out of here." I picked Squeeler up, and grunted at how light she was. I passed the shadow girl, kicking her as hard as I could in the ribs, and ran out into the hallway of the apartment.

The hall was a warzone, with my Merchants fighting as best they could against those gimp-suited PRT asswipes. A number of troopers turned towards me and shouted, "Halt!"

I laid down a dozen zones of force and sent the troopers flying into walls, over tables, and one particularly unlucky motherfucker at the opposite end of the hallway over the half wall of the stairwell and down twenty feet.

We made it to the street without too much more trouble, and crossed through the rain. My Merchants were holding their own. Trainwreck's crew was laying down some serious light show shit from the rooftops. Across the street was an auto mechanics's shop where my Bitch kept her toys. I climbed up the steel rungs welded into the side of the body and into the hatch of the truck.

"Put me down Skids," Squeeler said, "I got this." I put her into the driver seat, and with a few sharp breaths, she let go of her side and flicked a few switches on the control panel.

"Don't be fucking stupid, bitch!" I yelled as her wound began to weep blood and bile more quickly, and I pushed my hands firm against her side. "The fuck you thinking?"

Squeeler gritted her teeth and ignored me in favor of turning the key on the steering column. With an unmuffled roar and glare of floodlights stolen from a sports arena, we started traveling towards Brockton Bay General to 'negotiate' some treatment.

****ADMINISTATION****

I looked over at Skidmark, his hand pressed against his chest tightly. The bulled looked to have pierced a lung- more more damage than anything I could handle. Well- that wasn't entirely true. I could have made something with my specialty a long time ago. An ambulance, emergency mobile surgery, those were all within my specialty. If it had wheels, treads, or jets and could move, I had ideas on how to make it.

But I hadn't, of course.

I wasted my time on shit like the truck, a six tractor tired monstrosity that roared down the slick streets, my poor Skids in pain and helpless. The things I made were awesome, yes, and Skidmark loved them. He was always so proud when I showed off a new toy ("My best bitch!"), but what good were toys when when my boyfriend was dying next to me, those PRT assholes attacking for no reason? When that stupid skinny shadow girl got the jump on them, what good had I been?

Fuck! I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in anger. I hadn't been good enough. I screwed around with junk and now my Skids was paying the price. I veered to the side of the street and crushed a little coupe. Some shit Japanese model that was probably as rare as fuck since Kyushu, but whatever. We were heading through the docks now, so it was probably some ABB shit's anyways. As I corrected course, I watched the little coupe flip onto its roof and spin into the middle of the street. I smiled, just a little. I had been an idiot, but my power was still awesome. I would do better next time. I would be better... for Skiddy.

A few minutes later I pulled into the Brockton Bay Memorial parking lot, running through the planters and snapping the trunks of freshly planted saplings to do so. I turned in my seat and looked to Skiddy, "You OK, baby?"

He looked pale, his teeth gritted in pain and his head pushed against the dirty rolled towel that was ziptied to the steel frame of the headrest. "What do you think?" he bit out.

I smiled weakly. He was in pain. "Shh, shh. Come on, let's get you out."

With more grunts of pain I managed to extract us from my truck and down to the rain slicked asphalt of the parking lot. To my surprise, Panacea walked up and immediately knelt down to Skiddy. "Just a bullet wound. Pierced lung. Not too bad."

I just nodded, not willing to piss her off. After a few seconds, the bullet pushed itself up and out of the wound, which then sealed itself with fresh, smooth skin. I sighed in relief and bent towards Skiddy.

****ADMINISTATION****

I stood up as Amy finished healing the blackened laser marks on my thigh and side, skirting out of the way as Skidmark and Squeeler both moved to gather me up. I finished their storylines and began to merge everything back together.

I began moving myself, finishing up Panacea's Perspective of a young girl who had been caught in the crossfire of a cape fight. It was actually somewhat close to the truth and allowed me to keep well away from modifying the information that her power was feeding her. I shuddered at her thoughts as her Perspective watched Glory Girl fly away. There were serious problems with the Dallon family.

This was messy. I had been messy in my almost delirious pain. There were now three parahumans who had disagreeing ideas of what had transpired in this parking lot. Skidmark thought Squeeler had been hurt, and she him. Panacea thought she had healed an innocent girl. Glory Girl would be named by Panacea and quickly protest that she hadn't been anywhere near the hospital. Three different stories from capes, one from a hero with no reason to lie, two from villains who wouldn't lie with such nonsensical conviction, and a fourth named who would deny any involvement. That pointed pretty clearly to a serious Master or Stranger.

And Shadow Stalker. She would be briefed about how capes were telling stories about events that didn't seem to line up. Actions and decisions that, looking back, didn't quite make sense. A possible new Master or Stranger in Brockton Bay. Oh no...

I jogged out of the parking lot with renewed health and a troubled mind. I took out my phone and dialed Lisa. As the phone rang, I shuddered at the other revelation of the cape known as Panacea. Her power wasn't just healing. It was complete control of biology. Anything biological. Anything alive, and all of their not alive cousins like viruses and prions.

Shaper. Juvenile Queen. Warrior.

This power... it was too much. It revealed too much. Labyrinth, Panacea, Squeeler. They were the worst, but every cape I had met had serious problems. Every single one, without exception. Could I fix them? Should I even try? Did they deserve it? I had already dedicated myself to doing so with Elle, but I was sure to find that this was a losing battle. People like Amy certainly deserved help- isolation and loneliness were feelings I understood. She was all but doomed to failure with her family life, and her hopeless love for her adopted sister. Even Squeeler had my understanding now. Her life had been torn apart by addiction and she had fixated on a single thing- Skidmark.

Was that the fate of some capes? To be trapped forever by their trigger events, unwilling to fully utilize small upside that was their power? Amy and Squeeler had absolutely amazing powers, and they were just throwing them away. I had a thousand ideas for each of them, and a million synergies when combining the two. But they wouldn't, as long as they were stuck in their loops.

Lisa picked up after the fourth ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, thank god! You're OK. Where are you? We got out with some backup from Faultline's Crew."

"I'm at the hospital. Got Panacea to patch me up."

A new Perspective popped into my awareness- and it was like the double-vision of Grue's darkness all over again. The Perspective moved in slow motion, or was he moving in extreme motion? Regardless, two separate flows of time were happening to me simultaneously and while I could handle it just fine, it was... weird.

"Hurry," I said, eyeing the direction my new Perspective had appeared. He had stopped behind a vehicle and was reporting back to home base. "The Protectorate is here and the PRT won't be far behind."

****ADMINISTATION****

"Hello, Velocity," Specter said.

Immediately the world dropped into brown tones as Velocity activated his power. Sepia. That was the color. My body couldn't move as my mind clocked up to match Velocity's Perspective, and I let the illusion of Specter continue unaffected. I felt Velocity's eyes widen in astonishment as Specter continued to pace in the frozen world. A splotch of black spotted with blue and green stars in a world of red and brown. Velocity continued to walk and I matched him, like two snarling dogs circling and waiting for an opening.

Finally I spoke, "Don't worry, I'm here to help." Specter gestured at the frozen Merchants. "Consider these two the first of a series of gifts, courtesy of the Undersiders."

"Undersiders? They're villains."

I scoffed internally. The Undersiders were barely worthy of the labels, compared to the rest of the Bay's underworld. Tattletale had mentioned Coil was planning on having them hit an ABB casino in the coming weeks, but that wasn't happening now. "Barely worthy of the title and they have reformed. This is the first step of proving our intentions to the PRT and Protectorate."

"You say 'our'. I wasn't aware they had a new member. Got a name?"

"Specter."

"Spooky."

I grimaced in annoyance and made my avatar pulse with an unseen light. I coupled that with a quick chill across Velocity's Perspective and he shivered. "So I'm told. But we're getting off topic. The Undersiders have decided to reform. They're dropping the life of crime, pitifully weak legal charges aside, and will focus more as vigilantes. There has been a change of circumstances that allow us to do so, and our members never intended to become criminals in the first place."

Velocity's disbelief was palpable in his mind, "Oh really? What about Hellhound? She has multiple counts of murder."

"A case of an unfortunate quirk of her power, and circumstances of her trigger. She didn't willingly commit those murders. She's getting support now, and won't be a problem any longer. But this isn't the place to have discussions like this."

"You're right. How about the Undersiders come in to the PRT and we can continue this discussion there?" I could feel the automatic nature of the statement. He said it almost without any thought at all and wasn't expecting a positive answer.

"I think that would be fine," Specter said. Flabbergasted shock. "But only myself, for now."