A.N. General disclaimer for all things copyright. I do not own the characters, setting, or lore utilized in the creation of this piece. My work is inspired by the creative thought of the original authors

She had died.

It was a realization that had prompted more tears and a small panic attack.

They really had left her to rot, to die in that filth. It was an act that still left her in disbelief, that such cruelty and malice could exist in the form of some high school girls. Oh sure, they may not have meant it. To push her beyond anything she had experienced before? Sure. To psychologically scar her perhaps worse than when her own mother had died? Maybe.

To kill her? She didn't think so. She didn't want to think so.

Still, what did intent matter when she had actually died. She knew the law. Negligence was as good a cause as any.

She sat in in a chair, one less cracked and withered from age, by the crackling fireplace, pondering such dark notions. She was hunched over slightly, a side affect of the bullying to make herself seem smaller, less noticeable. Her hands rested in her lap, warmed by the heat of the gentle flame.

They had pushed her for so long, starting with the deep betrayal of her best friend and stretching to years of effective torture. The locker had been the penultimate achievement in their campaign, the final nail in the coffin

Her coffin. She had died there, after all.

But it was more than a final end. No, it was a rebirth.

She had triggered.

She had read about them in PHO, events during which a person becomes a Parahuman and gains powers. Speculation was wild about what the events entailed, since it was a private matter, but it was clear that an experience with enough potency has the capability to transform someone.

She had died. It didn't get more potent than that.

Her body had changed. She was faster, reacted quicker, and was stronger, able to lift a few of the mid sized headstones without care. Her stamina had increased some, but not as much as she would have hoped for. She would have to do something to get into shape, maybe take up running or some other activity. She was in excellent health, her eyes corrected and her skin wiped of blemishes.

The fire continued to crackle, logs tumbling in the flames, kicking up cinders as they were consumed.

There was more though, beyond the changes to her body.

The scroll had taught her that.

This place, the fields that lay beyond the building she sat in, was part of it all. A small place of solace. A home away from home. A quiet in the raging storm of her life. It was a location that belonged to her, a place of peace and safety that she could retreat too.

It didn't exist in the real world, that she was sure of. Nothing about any of it looked recognizable. It must have been created when she triggered, gifting her with a place of rest. More so, it came with the tools that she would need, in time.

Tilting her head upwards she observed several long sheets of metal, ranging from the length of her arm to half her body, mounted on a wall. They had been cut jagged, wicked teeth on some while others were twisted into blades. They looked dangerous and were sharp, her own palm a victim of their honed edges when inspecting the items.

She tried to ignore how angry being cut made her, a sudden aggression that had come from nowhere. She also tried to ignore how the cut had clotted, scabbed, and healed within minutes of the event.

This place was a workshop of sorts, a place where she could create things to help herself. Even after the terrible years at school, a witness to the surge of gang influence and corruption, she wanted to be a hero. Those three, the trio that had hurt her, killed her, were monsters, but she was stronger. She had vowed to never let them win, to ignore their taunts and cruelty, to grow and become better than they ever could. She would endure, graduate, and move on to better pastures a stronger woman.

Then she had died. It was as far as any normal person could endure a hardship.

Looking back into the fire she frowned.

She was done with enduring. It had been the literal death of her. Time to be more proactive.

She had powers, however they affected her. She had this place, a workshop where she could build what she needed. The trio were beneath her now, lesser in the scope of what she could accomplish. With what she had she could help others, fight the gangs, push back the tide of pain and suffering that infested the city. She could save people, defend others, and do so much good.

She nodded to herself, set in her conviction.

She had died, but she had been given a new life. It would be a better one then her last.

With that she leaned back against the chair, watching the fire burn, lulled to sleep by the gentle popping of the wood.