I dreamed of boiling away the perfect ocean, tearing its shining blue away. At the same time, I saw through... not eyes, but something similar, that had not that colour but the idea of that colour, the figure that felt this pain.

I dreamed of a memory, watching myself fall and die. I felt that death, and how I was slowly cut apart. I felt something particularly important that had fallen away blossom, and knew I would never be again. But that was alright. There would be another.

I woke up in a cell, my thoughts still clear. Shadow Stalker was... looking shocked. A crossbow bolt was held between my two fingers, and I vaguely recall snatching it out of the air as I woke. The Crown really was useful for things like this, I mused as I got up. I called up the Ashen Thorn, gathering a ball of what looked like the static that could be seen on older TV models. I looked at Shadow Stalker, and wondered what had driven her to attack me. No matter. She had still tried to strike me, and that was unacceptable.

Then again, was she worth using the Ashen Thorn on. Decisions, decisions. Decisions I wouldn't have to make if things weren't so clear. I banished the ball of static and waved at Shadow Stalker, indicating that she should leave me alone to thing.

I was shocked when she shot me again. She must be mad, I decided. Trying the same thing and expecting different results was one of the definitions of madness that had been in one of the books I'd read once. I caught another bolt out of the air, then shredded both of the bolts I had so far with brief charges of silver-grey static. I shooed the teenage hero again, and this time she left me alone with my thoughts.

Time passed, and I worried that I had been forgotten. It turns out I was wrong, that I was a Parahuman and that if I didn't want to spend the rest of my life rotting in a prison for shutting an entire school up (it turns out subjecting people to complete silence for almost an hour is bad), I would take the same deal as Shadow Stalker and join the Wards. And suffer clarity for the rest of my existence. Still, it beat rotting away in a specially reinforced cell. My official announcement would be made in a few weeks. In the meantime, I had the pleasure of being personally introduced to the Wards.

And who, might you ask, was Shadow Stalker? Who was the one who had tried to murder me this morning, ineffectual as that was? Why, Sophia-FUCKING-Hess. I didn't even hesitate to name the new Thorn the Traitor's Thorn. Such a complete betrayal by the one organisation I had looked up to all my life definitely deserved that title.

I stared venomously at Hess, and she glared back. The remainder looked awkwardly between us, but with a huff I moved over to Missy, swept her up in a hug, and plopped down on a coach with her next to me. "You can reshape space, right? Do me a favour and keep that bitch away from me." I said. She glared at me. "I'm not your toy." She snapped. I nodded. "No, you're not. But you are the only thing worth being here for apart from Aegis's abs, especially if you keep that bitch away from me."

There was a bit of spluttering, and Aegis actually flushed a bit. Vista just seemed confused, but eventually did as I asked. Hess was further away. Vista said she couldn't do it all the time, and I had said that was fine. Aegis/Carlos sighed and said "Look, you're on the same team now. The same way. You'll have to get along some-" "{Negation}" I declared, ramming the concept of exactly how unlikely that was into his brain. All their brains.

There was quite a bit of wincing at that. "Owww" Vista moaned. "What did you do that for?" She asked plaintively. "It was the fastest way." I declared. "Anyway, I trust I won't end up paired with Hess on patrols?" Carlos grumbled something about how I was being childish, which I chose not disregard entirely. He eventually said he'd see what he could do. And then it was time for power testing, even though that was unnecessary. I knew what my Thorns could do.

I grunted as I got up from Aegis's punch. It turned out that the Brockton Bay PRT was so underfunded that they had to have a very hands-on power testing. Or maybe this was revenge for the Panacea thing. Probably that. It hadn't hurt, it just took so much damned mental effort to get up, to pay attention to what they were saying and what they meant. The fact that they communicated concepts in encoded soundwaves rather than directly was also slightly annoying.

No matter. The next punch. Eventually, they settled on Brute 3, especially after I mentioned getting punched by Lung and standing up again afterwards. Admittedly, he was only 8 feet tall at the time, but still.

Next I got to take out my frustration on various material samples and targets. Bursts of static, exploding spheres, stilling the target and a bunch of other applications of the Ashen and Funerary Thorns left me with a 'high' Blaster rating, with more details to be decided later after some more testing. The explosive aspect also merited a Shaker rating, as did the stunt I had pulled at the school. A small Stranger rating was attached once I demonstrated my ability to shut off all sounds I was emitting(and I reminded myself to use it when I wanted to sleep later. Or pointedly ignore people, since using it did something to my hair. Made it float or something.)

The ability to use said abilities at close range was also worth a Striker rating, and then we were done. I could go to my fancy new cell, and rest. This thinking business was exhausting and I couldn't understand how the old me had been able to do it all the time. Maybe she'd had her own Thorn? Maybe dad had had something to do with it? And wasn't I forgetting something?

Oh well. Nothing worth caring about, I was sure.