The day after the meeting with Battery, a Saturday, I went out into the city wearing a mask.

I didn't have a costume to speak of just yet, so I wore skin tight running wear and a ski mask. Not the most glamorous outfit, but I was going to be a blur speeding around the city, and I had previously noticed that my power didn't extend much past my skin. Tight clothing was fine, a cellphone or pepper spray was already too much to bring along. Excess mass or volume on my person slowed me down, something to look out for in a fight.

It was hard to tell whether I accelerated or the world slowed down to a near-halt when I used my power. It felt like a mix of both, but the way I didn't get tired as easily seemed to point to my accelerating.

I suspected not many Brockton Bay residents were surprised to see a blurred figure flashing through their streets, what with the several flying and speeding capes who were part of the local fauna. In the aftermath of a traumatic event, I'd stepped from one side of the line to the other, spectator to performer.

The liberating feeling of outrunning any vehicle you'd find in a city made it seem worth it.

Worth the fear and panic, worth not knowing what would happen to me if Sophia and the several boys who had been chasing me had caught up. After catching glimpses of what a different kind of torment felt like, something other than punches and insults, my vivid imagination had offered visions of acts that scarred women for their entire lives.

I shook the thought out of my head as I ran the entire length of the Boardwalk in seconds. Thinking back to it dulled my fun, and if it was going to really hit me later, then I'd enjoy myself in the meantime.

In the brief time that I spent by the water, the Protectorate's force fielded base tempted me from a distance. Resources, support, friends, heroics.

If they proved to be willing to work with me instead of expecting me to work for them, I'd join in a heartbeat.

A sharp turn led me back into the thick of Brockton Bay, and I went to explore the nastier parts of town on a whim. Teenage girls have no place there, but capes certainly do.

It struck me that I had been running faster than I ever thought I could for several minutes and I was barely breathing heavily. Without training, a feat. With training, I'd run across the state as a warm up.

Even the bad part of town wasn't too bad in broad daylight on a weekend. Some shadier types hung around street corners or outside inconspicuous doors, most likely offering drugs, women or other sinful pleasures. A few times I made it a point to run extremely close to the thugs that thy'd feel a breeze, enjoying the idea that I'd make them nervous.

It's fun to have powers. I made me wonder why so many heroes and villains were so gloomy; I hadn't been so happy for years.

After a few more laps around town, I returned home to my dad. We spent the afternoon and evening together, and I went to bed hoping to hear back from the PRT soon.

I woke up late in the morning, ready for a lazy Sunday.

I found dad in the living room, sitting in front of the television. He was listening to the news.

… impossible to tell who or what triggered the conflict, but the escalation was immediate and scaled beyond what is normally tolerated …

"What happened?", I asked. There were images of scorched buildings, some windows still leaking tall flames. Helicopter views of a city block that was nearly completely collapsed, the rubble burned through.

… Lung was identified as the primary offender in this event, but many other parahumans were involved …

"A cape fight," he responded. His voice was weak. "It looks like what Behemoth does. They think hundreds died."

… amateur footage reveals that Hellhound of the Undersiders and her dogs were involved, as well as Purity of the Empire 88. The battle continued until the intervention of a Protectorate team led by Armsmaster and New Wave's Glory Girl and Shielder. The heroes managed to break up the fight and lead Lung away, at which point …

"They have a kill order on Lung, and they're actively looking to capture any other villains involved, if only to get a better idea of what happened."

I hadn't been there.

He continued. "They still don't know if any capes died, but the casualties are just…"

I wondered if my father knew anyone who lived in that area. Probably better not to ask. I had something else nagging in my thoughts.

"If I'd joined the Wards immediately, maybe I could have helped," I said.

He looked at me, met my eyes and smiled, shaking his head slowly. "This isn't what your power does, Taylor. You can't fight monsters, or carry people to safety. Don't regret not being there."

He sounded right, but it still felt wrong.

"I could have moved ahead to warn people to evacuate, I could have been useful."

"Taylor…"

"They're monsters, dad, you said so. The heroes need as much help as they can get."

He stopped to consider my words. He always listened to me, never treated me like a child. I always supposed he needed me to be more of an adult after my mom died.

"How about Shadow Stalker?", he asked with a pained expression. "If you join now, they won't need to consider your additional terms."

"Fuck Sophia," I decided. "She doesn't even matter when we have problems like this," I said, gesturing towards the television. It was displaying some of the phone camera footage of clashing capes, blasts of light indicating Purity's interventions. Lung was seen here and there, roaring through the bursts of flame he used to force her to stay away. There was nothing human about the man anymore. The scales, wings, and reformed limbs had turned him into something closer to an Endbringer.

If I couldn't fight that, I could help the ones who could.

"If you're certain, Taylor. But don't rush into this because of what happened last night. Lung's actions shouldn't force you into a bad situation as well."

"I'm not rushing. I was just hesitating, but now it's clear. I just don't have enough reasons not to join. My power is nearly useless on its own and the heroes need more help. Sophia's a small and personal problem. I will deal with her."

I turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?", he asked me. "Are you doing this now?"

I shook my head. "Not joining just yet, but I'll at least help them look for survivors today."

I left to put on the same improvised costume I'd worn the day before. I waited long enough for my father to wish me good luck before I opened the front door and activated my power, reaching incredible speed in an instant.

I'd seen enough to know where I was headed. Ten or fifteen seconds later, I was there.

The concerted efforts of capes and normal firefighters were met with success, but smoke still rose in places, where the rubble piled high enough that the deeper layers still combusted slowly. I allowed myself a second without my power to take in the scene, to understand the patterns capes and normals followed to rescue as many as possible.

Fortunately for Lung, many of the capes tough enough to take him in a fight were too necessary to the rescue effort to join the manhunt. Glory Girl was the first one I noticed, flying from point to point in straight lines without hesitation, sometimes carrying a large piece of concrete, sometimes making sure the ruins didn't collapse further while the unpowered made their way in. The confidence in her movements suggested she was following instructions, maybe from a headset.

Without knowing for sure who was coordinating the operation, I could assume Brockton Bay's most prominent Tinker was involved. A quick run around the destroyed area revealed more of the scene of destruction to me, and led me to the apparent leadership here.

Armsmaster was standing in the middle of a number of tables erected on an untouched part of the road, obviously busy working with a computer as he snapped orders out loud, without looking to anybody in particular. Behind him was a small team of PRT agents armed with both nonlethal and lethal weaponry, as well as the team's leader, who stood by Armsmaster but seemed out of place.

I noticed Ubiquity appeared by the group, so I approached fast enough that the teleporter wouldn't leave again but slowly enough that I wouldn't startle anyone and trigger a fight with anyone. Every PRT agent brandished their weapons in my direction, and their leader gestured for them to relax once I froze.

"State your name and purpose, ma'am," the PRT officer demanded.

"My cape name is Rapid, I'm new and most likely joining the Wards soon. I'm here to help save people."

"You haven't been cleared to participate, ma'am. I'm really sorry but I'm going to need you to go home and wait until this is over."

It hadn't occurred to me that they might refuse my help. It left me stunned for a moment, long enough that Ubiquity spoke up.

"What's your power, Rapid? I noticed speed, anything else?"

Grateful for the non-dismissal, I was honest. "I'm very fast, but when I'm using my power I can't interact with the world very much. I can't lift anything, but the rest of the world can't hurt me much either."

He nodded. "Not bad, I may have an idea of how to use you."

The PRT officer spoke up. "Excuse me sir, but we can't allow unknown parahumans to wander the site and risk people's lives. This is insane."

Ubiquity gave the man a quick look over, then tapped Armsmaster's shoulder. The Tinker nearly jumped, as focused as he was on coordinating every cape involved here, but he recovered quickly.

"She's honest. Give her a headset," was all he said. I couldn't help but notice his voice went along with his appearance perfectly in making him the ideal candidate for most heroic person. What I could tell from his lower face's expression, though, was that he was very much annoyed.

As combat oriented as he was, he probably wanted to be chasing Lung, but his power must have been seen as key in saving innocent lives. I made a mental note not to test his temper today.

Ubiquity followed the instruction and fished a thin headset out of a small cardboard box. Without asking me, he reached over to set it around my right ear and pushed a button on the set, pressing it almost painfully against my head. He then nodded and looked away before disappearing. Cool power.

"State your name," a woman's voice emerged from the headset. The volume control seemed ideal, loud enough to be heard clearly without drowning out any of the sounds around me.

"Rapid."

Two of the PRT officers looked at me strangely when I appeared to speak to myself.

"Describe your power briefly."

I placed a finger against the headset to indicate what I was doing.

"Speed, with reduced ability to interact with my environment."

There was a beep following the end of my statement, and I waited nearly a minute before Armsmaster glanced at me and muttered a phrase that had the words "Rapid" and "fire" in it.

"Rapid, do you consent to a visual extension of the communications device?"

Without really thinking about it, anxious to start helping out, I said "Yes."

The headset vibrated and then shook as a tendril extended from it to form a basic lens in front of my right eye. It startled me, but my jump did not slow its progress. The device turned into a kind of low resolution monitor. It only displayed letters overlayed on different parts of the landscape around me, some of them indicating places I didn't have line of sight with.

Tinker tech, obviously.

"Please proceed to sector 27-b."

I activated my power and started searching around myself for a hovering 27-b on the monitor, then started speeding that way once I found it. I was glad to notice the headset was light enough for me to carry along, although it did feel much more uncomfortable. My maximum speed was probably very much reduced with that small addition.

To an outside observer, it must have taken me three seconds to reach my destination.

I was in front of one of the less-demolished buildings, one that had only been hit with minor debris and maybe sustained small fires. I stood amongst human firefighters, all of whom touched a hand to their helmet upon my arrival. It seemed that they were being briefed about their parahuman support.

The one in charge of their team, a man fifty years older than I was, pointed to an open door that led to a bar.

"There's a fire in their basement. We don't know if there's people in there, and Dragon says you'll get past the flames fine. We need recon!"

"Confirmed. Proceed with caution," the female voice - Dragon's voice - confirmed. So I was working under two notorious tinkers.

"Alright," was all I could think of as a response, and I nodded.

"You look young, miss," he added. "Don't get hurt in there."

Without saying anything I disappeared into a blur and hurried inside the bar. It was easy to identify the basement from the heavy smoke coming out of the door.

Now, Dragon seemed to believe I could go in there and back out without coming to harm. I should be fine holding my breath, since my powered state allowed me to run for longer, maybe it overall reduced my need for oxygen?

And then there was the heat. Like anything else, it would affect me much less than it would anyone else, not to mention that I wouldn't spend a particularly long time exposed to it.

I was here to save lives. Not sparing another moment for hesitation, I rushed in through the door and down the stairs. I was holding my breath, and while the air was getting noticeably hotter around, it didn't seem to be burning me yet.

The smoke had another effect, though. It was thick enough that the constant stream of airborne solid particles slowed me down and burned my eyes.

I continued in deeper, squinting in hopes of retaining enough sight to identify whether there was anybody down here. With my speed I cleared the entire floor in a few seconds thoroughly enough that I was confident nobody needed rescuing around me, and I started heading back up.

I was pretty much blind at this point, and had been steadily slowing down against the thick, heavy smoke. Without being able to see where I was going, my movement impeded by the smoke, in a terrible hurry, I missed a step and fell flat on my face.

The impact hurt, but it was thankfully lessened by the lowered face - corner of step interaction. I immediately gave up on opening my eyes for navigation and set to crawling, my sense of touch still intact.

I was significantly slower, of course, and the heat was catching up with me. My clothing was probably damaged at this point, and I could feel some more exposed parts of my skin tightening and pulling back.

After maybe five more real-time seconds, I made it out and back to my firefighters.

They were immediately taking care of me, checking my breathing and pulse, checking that my clothing wasn't burning, asking questions faster than I could answer. I blinked some of my sight back and saw a few others readying their equipment to burst into the bar and do their job.

"Nobody," I managed to say. It seemed that I had started breathing again at some point in there, maybe when I fell. The smoke and hot air had done a number on my throat.

"It's okay," I added.

Then they said something, and I passed out.

My body felt better than ever as I woke up, but kept my eyes shut. There was enough light forcing its way through my eyelids to nearly give me a headache already.

There were others in the room, switching between politely conversing and bickering. Without understanding how many people there were, and who they were, it took me a second before I could make sense of any of it.

"My daughter's intentions were clear to her and to everyone else, I won't deny that, but I want to raise enough of a stink that a similar mistake won't be made again."

My father.

"I understand absolutely. Of course, if this matter could stay away from the press, we would appreciate it greatly."

A woman whose voice I did not recognize.

"Give me a good reason to believe you're actually doing something about the matter and we can keep this quiet."

"Thank you. Of course, the first step will involve an apology from Armsmaster, as well as a few very necessary conversations he needs to have with his superiors."

"A start. I want more than that," my dad insisted.

"We will keep you notified of the measures we will be taking, as they are determined."

"That's all I'm asking for. How is Armsmaster responsible for this, though?", he asked.

The woman sighed.

"You see, he was instructed to cooperate with Dragon in organising the search and rescue effort. It turned out that he took the initiative," she said with great emphasis, almost as if she was staring at the Tinker himself, "to involve himself in Lung's pursuit from a distance."

There was a pause, I imagined a nod accompanied it.

"And he couldn't do both jobs properly at the same time."

"Precisely."

I chose that moment to obviously wake up, lightly stretching as I started blinking some more light into my eyes.

"Taylor! Are you alright?", my dad asked, rushing to my side. Through my rather blurry vision, he appeared appropriately worried.

"I'm great," I said, giving him a smile, "better than I expected."

"That's because they had the famous Panacea working on you, kid."

"That was nice."

I looked around a little more. The woman I hadn't recognised still eluded me, although her squat figure and stern features rang a bell. She was someone who had appeared on television, I just couldn't place her exactly.

And, standing by the door to personally guard my room, stood the one and only Armsmaster. Interesting.

"Hi, Taylor. My name is Director Piggot," the woman introduced herself, coming closer with a hand extended for a shake.

I accepted it politely. "Hi, Director."

Armsmaster remained silent, his back turned to us as he gazed into the door's wood. An early punishment?

"How did the rescue effort go?", I asked.

Both she and my father smiled, although probably for slightly different reasons.

"Very well," she said. "Forty-four were rescued from critical condition. Actually, the time you saved the firefighters allowed them to intervene elsewhere and save a life."

I smiled too, at that news. I made a difference.

"I thought you'd be happy to know that," she added.

My father and I just beamed at each other. I had done something heroic and survived, fulfilling our every wish.

Director Piggot stepped back and cleared her voice.

"Armsmaster," she said loudly, "you may enter the room."

With military precision the Tinker stepped back, opened the door, walked out into the hallway and then back into my hospital room before shutting the door again.

"Now, present your apology to Rapid."

Without changing his rigid posture, he turned his head to face me.

"Rapid, my actions and my disrespect for the orders I was given nearly cost you your life. For that I am deeply sorry, and swear that in the future I will strive to fulfill my duty as I always should have done. You are a hero, but before that you are a human being, and putting you in harm's way was the greatest mistake I could have done."

Then his head snapped back in place, staring at some point straight ahead. He had almost sounded sincere, and I imagine him practicing reciting the short speech in front of a mirror.

I giggled. None of the adults seemed to understand why.