Invisible, intangible, I passed through hallways I wasn't making any less empty. Classrooms flanked me left and right, some leaking the buzz of students, others the muted droning of teachers. I wasn't even breathing and still the stench of cheap detergent assaulted my nose.

Winslow.

There had been a girl in this place, once. A girl trapped in her own life, who could have very easily gone on a rampage, chosen a moment of retribution over a life that could have meant something. A girl who would've gone on to become some aimless villain, never to save a city, never to help save a world. A forgotten footnote in the scheme of things.

If there was a Taylor Hebert who could still become that girl, it was me. And the others let me return here. Someone would need to explain that one to me later.

Exhaling something I wasn't sure was air, I sighed. I suspected I knew the reason. Caster had the city. Assassin had the world. Besides attending Taylor – the human one – what was left for Rider? What was left for me, that I could be trusted to not fuck up? I wasn't the warlord. I wasn't the icon. I was the wannabe who wasn't sure she still wanted to be, or even deserved to.

I was careful to keep my thoughts away from my connection to Taylor. To her, I was the friendly one, the kind one. The one she was most comfortable with, because I acted most like her power. I did what she wanted me to.

Nothing.

It was all I had. It wasn't enough.

Taylor wouldn't need kid gloves forever. If... when Emma transferred away and something was done about Sophia, she wouldn't need a school guard. Then what? I'd be nothing but a set of powers that wasn't worth using, not if it meant giving up Caster or Assassin's. An irrelevant option, maybe allowed to exist from time to time, out of pity.

That wasn't life. It wasn't even survival.

Fuck. This fucking place – it shifted me back to an older mindset, that state of constant anxiety, always worrying about something, if not the past or present, then the future. Expecting worst case scenarios that shouldn't happen but felt completely likely anyway. Hadn't I escaped from that? Didn't I deserve to?

I needed fresh air, needed out. Rooftop? Still not good with rooftops, even with ways to get off them quickly. Away from school? I couldn't leave Taylor – wouldn't. The bullies were guaranteed to try one last stunt before Emma left, and I didn't trust our luck to make it some other day.

While stalled by indecision, the school bell rang. A rumble of feet and shifting chairs grew, then students poured out from every classroom. The wave of bodies washed over me, through me, and I welcomed it as a distraction. I welcomed that here, where I had once worried about every set of eyes, suspected every laugh, I could be invisible.

I looked up from the floor, straightened my back. One more class. Ninety more minutes. No longer a student, enough power to level the building, and still living toward the end of the school day. Pathetic. But at least it was familiar.

I used the time to check on Emma and Sophia, Julia for good measure, then on Madison back in Taylor's class. I didn't linger in that last classroom. Taylor didn't need the stress of me hovering around, one impulsive action or power mishap away from outing her as a cape. Trusting what we couldn't control would never be our strong point.

Being the nurturing type didn't come natural to me, but it was easy to be kind to someone whose life you lived until yesterday. Like a problem-solving exercise you already had all the answers to, barely even a real interaction. Had Lisa ever felt that way about relationships? Like a complete fraud?

I sighed again. I'd cope. I was the one who gave her comfort. The others were in charge of actually making her life better.

In the end, there was no confrontation with the bullies today, and Taylor made it onto the bus without trouble. I could feel her anxiety ease with each mile put between ourselves and Winslow. Some nervousness remained, but it was eclipsed by anticipation and a hesitant excitement, a feeling I remembered well. Being able to retreat to the safety and privacy of home, where I could throw myself into research, testing and training, weaving my costume. A time I didn't have to think about anything except the fantasy of the hero I'd be with my mask on.

I laughed a little, for the ears of nobody.

When we got home, I headed straight for my old room and stepped forward sideways. Black specks converged and settled throughout my body, anchoring it in the same layer of reality my eyes saw into. Awareness flooded my mind at the same time – every bug within a two-block radius, and for each one, a constantly shifting whisper of possibility. Instinctive, like finding food and shelter was as natural as unfolding into a flight platform capable of spewing enough venom to put out a small fire.

A little reluctantly, I left my bugs to their bug business. There weren't any fires.

I took a seat on the edge of the bed and lay back. I considered diving into my closet for a change of clothing, and dismissed the idea at about the same time. Taylor was probably getting used to talking to costumes and masks – she might even prefer it. The flaws we saw in the mirror every day didn't suddenly become more flattering without the mirror.

A few discreetly positioned bugs alerted me of Taylor's path up the stairs – a little slow, probably holding a mug of tea. Or two mugs, as it turned out. I accepted one, warming my hands through my gloves.

There were no greetings as Taylor shrugged off her backpack and settled at her desk – we'd agreed they weren't going to stop being awkward, and we'd been together since the bus besides. She decorated her desk with some homework before turning her chair to me.

"How was yesterday?"

"Quiet." It wasn't exactly the right word to describe 'our' territory, but it fit my experience. Nothing for me to do, even though I'd been sent to patrol it. In the two days since Caster introduced herself to her corner of the city, it had received more hero and PRT attention than it probably got in a regular year. "Caster cowed the villains and made the heroes work overtime. Maybe calm is a better word. As in before the storm."

I couldn't predict how things would develop like Caster or Assassin could, but I knew things wouldn't stay peaceful. Part of that was experience, but more than that... if the villains didn't make a move, our side would. Doing nothing didn't exist as an option.

"The ABB," Taylor said. She'd studied the cape scene first this time. "Caster said they'd be forced to retaliate?"

Yes. Caster had said so, when she'd argued she should be given more time to cement her position. Did she actually believe Lung was provoked into action so easily, so quickly? Or had she just wanted to exist a little longer?

I didn't want to be uncharitable toward a 'teammate', a future self my actions were ultimately responsible for, but she made it easy. It was in the small, stupid things, like how Assassin volunteered to take Winslow shifts and Caster didn't. How she barely acknowledged me sometimes.

Taylor frowned, perhaps sensing my discomfort as something else. "They're dangerous?"

"They are, but I can handle them." For once, I didn't need to fake confidence.

Lung had been my first stepping stone. The third or fourth too, depending how I counted, though that memory was more distant. Venoms to pave the way for Bitch. Venom again the second time, borrowed, wielded with roach and caterpillar. I didn't know why, but I could feel a shadow of those events inside my power, in the directions and dimensions my bugs could stretch.

No. I felt unsure about a lot of things. Fighting Lung with powers I could practically call anti-Lung wasn't one.

Frankly, the aftermath unsettled me more than a potential fight. Removing Lung was how I sparked a gang war last time. Would things really go that much better just because Bakuda wasn't with the ABB yet? It felt obvious, but... I didn't deserve to make that call. If Assassin needed Lung left alone for a little longer, that was what we'd do. I just wished I understood her reasons.

"Anyways," I continued, "I don't think they'll try something this soon. The Protectorate is still focusing their patrols on Caster's area for some reason. The PRT is in the area too. If Lung tries something, we'd have backup within minutes." Even as I spoke the words and believed them, there was a disconnect. A mismatch between what I'd said and some scattered memories, too incoherent to form a bigger picture.

Judging by Taylor's expression and the bond between us, she wasn't entirely convinced, but she seemed to cautiously accept trouble wasn't imminent. "Is the PRT still investigating Caster?"

"She did create a lot of work for them." I could tell she was anxious for the press release or publication that would announce Caster as a new hero. It was progression, something she could look at and feel good about, small as her contribution was for now. I envied that a little. "They should make some kind of announcement after Caster delivers on the meeting she promised. Assassin said she'd go later this week."

"Why hasn't she already?"

That brought me up short. Why hadn't she? I hadn't questioned it – I trusted Assassin to handle the PRT. She hadn't spent two years working around rules and protocols to learn nothing about rules and protocols. Taylor, meanwhile, didn't know about Assassin's history, and she wanted this more than I did. The sooner our team was established and stable, the sooner Caster could sink a few weeks' worth of her power into gear that would let Taylor participate in the field. Or so she believed.

Privately, I wasn't so sure that was more than a dangling carrot. When did we ever have weeks to spare?

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. Assassin probably has her reasons."

Taylor gave me an uncomfortable look. Apologetic, perhaps. She didn't want to ask it of me, but she would. "Do you mind if I swap you out?"

I put down my tea. "No," I lied. "Go ahead."

As a different body began to coalesce to my left, my awareness shrunk. Either my power or my bugs – or both – vanished, and gray nothingness encroached on my world. The window outside showed nothing but featureless sky, and even dad's bedroom at the end of the hallway was behind an indoor fog. Suffocating, even after two weeks. Trapped with nothing to do except follow Taylor, slumber inside the fog, or talk with whoever existed on the same frequency – which half of the time was Caster. I found her standing in one of the corners, eerily still, her face concealed in the black void of the hood she'd made. I quickly turned away.

Maybe it said more about my own insecurities than about Caster, but I felt a frustrating need to be wary around her. It was hard to forget how overwhelmingly powerful her position was if things ever came to a negotiation. The strength of her range was obvious, her flashy debut put her at the center of the story we'd weave around our 'team', and her tinker power was probably our most versatile problem-solver. It would safeguard Taylor when she inevitably insisted on a more active role.

Indispensable. In comparison, all I had were overlarge bugs.

I focused back on Taylor and Assassin, who had finished manifesting, had pulled up her mask, and was drinking my tea. Great.

"It's about legitimacy, in a sense," she was explaining. "Caster sent enough mixed signals to make the PRT hesitate about branding her a villain. With every day that passes, more of the public believes Caster won't be branded a villain. And if the heroes already look like they're tolerating us, they might as well tolerate us. Improves my position when I go talk to them."

Taylor set her tea aside as she processed that, frowned. "But she isn't a villain. Why is that even an issue?"

Assassin took a moment to pick her words. "Because simply put, Caster is a bigger problem to the PRT than Lung and Kaiser together."

"What?" Taylor said at the same time I thought it.

"It's not about Caster, or her power. It's about what she did." Assassin waved her stump in a gesture that I didn't think meant anything, even to her. "Heroes and villains fighting each other in costumes is something the public is used to. Background noise if you don't care about capes. But a cape attacking hundreds of unpowered civilians in their homes, because she unilaterally decided they were criminals, all the while mishandling evidence, ignoring proper procedure, outside any form of accountable oversight? That's not background noise, and it's not familiar old heroism either. It's something new and frightening."

Taylor went very still. "Did Caster hurt innocent people?"

Did we screw up? Are we villains? Already?

"She didn't, except maybe indirectly. Addicts lashing out because they lost their suppliers, families of criminals losing critical income, that sort of thing. She was as careful as anyone can be while still doing what she did. The heroes have probably figured that out by now." I exhaled at her words. "But again, it's not about Caster, or even any individual cape. The problem is condoning capes like Caster. It sends a message to every other vigilante in the country."

Assassin sipped her tea. "Responsibility and patience aren't typical cape traits. Sooner rather than later, some well-intending independent is going to punch or blast their way into the home of an innocent family, and they'll damage more than just the door. It could take one incident, it could take ten, but eventually a thought will occur to the public. We could be next. It won't be a fear of villains or monsters, it'll be a fear of parahumans, and that's something the PRT exists to prevent."

The problems of vigilantism. It wasn't like the subject was never discussed on TV or online, but... it wasn't obvious, not when it came to capes. Cape vigilantism was different – there were allowances for it in the law, it was something capes could make into their livelihood. New Wave was well-liked and respected, even if you discounted the goodwill generated by Panacea alone.

"With the PRT's ability to suppress and spin, they have leeway to condone a vigilante here or there. Because Caster met the heroes, pretended to have a team, paid lip service to the law, promised to communicate... she made them use that leeway for us. If she hadn't, it's entirely possible they'd have made her an example. A vigilante who went too far, now a villain no one should dare imitate."

"But she helped."

Hadn't she?

"Some, locally. Compared to the negative impact she could have on the country, the crime she fights in one corner of one city is barely a factor."

"Barely a factor," Taylor sounded almost numb. "That doesn't make any sense. I... I'm not saying you're wrong, but that doesn't sound right. Worse than Kaiser and Lung? They're—"

"—villains who know how the heroes operate. Empire capes don't drag people out of their homes, their unpowered members do. Lung's fire lights up the sky whenever he fights, but he knows to keep his sex slavery in the shadows. And in the PRT's mindset, that makes them less urgent than a noisy vigilante."

Even though nothing in my memories disputed Assassin's words, my gut wanted to deny it. It rebelled against a world that unfair.

"That can't be right. That's... that's screwed up."

"It is," Assassin easily agreed. "On the scale of one city, on the scale of people, it's screwed up. It only makes sense on a national level, and even then, it doesn't work. It's a failing policy that creates more and more cities like ours and considers it acceptable."

"Acceptable?"

"Because change isn't safe and familiar. Because enough people at the top are corrupt, or convinced this is the best they can possibly do." Or because they know the system doesn't need to last forever, just long enough. "And Caster's less compromising heroism is a thorn in their side."

Less compromising heroism. It was just a glimpse, but I thought I was starting to see what kind of heroes Caster and Assassin were trying to be. No more band-aids on a festering wound. No more hopeless attempts at healing. Amputation. Creating a new state with at least a chance of being healthy.

There would be some blood involved.

Taylor had gone still for a few seconds, mind awhirl, no doubt picturing new ways the world could screw her over. Like I would, if it had been my life and future that was being gambled with. When she spoke, her voice wavered a little, short of breath. "You need to go to the PRT. As soon as possible. Make it absolutely clear we're heroes."

"I'll give it a few more days," Assassin said, annoyingly unconcerned. "Three. Maybe four, depending."

"Two." Then, with more determination, "Two days."

A small pause, followed by a nod from Assassin, and maybe a wisp of a smile. "Alright. Two days. I will be needing the rest of today."

"Okay," came Taylor's immediate agreement. I shut my eyes. The plan had been to let me patrol again, let me fly, but the key word there was let. It wasn't critical, and it didn't need to be me. Sacrificing my time for the others... it wasn't fair, but I understood. I couldn't object. Wouldn't have, if they'd asked.

It bothered me most that they hadn't.

Assassin stood from the bed and stretched. "I should get going then. It's probably useless to tell you not to worry in the meantime, but try. Worst case scenario, Caster gets branded a villain and the rest of us don't. Not ideal, but workable. If it helps, think of it as having one of us undercover."

Some of the tension left Taylor's shoulders, lowering slightly. Perhaps not relieved, but close. Even in my own time, at my own task, Assassin does better. Why couldn't I have her experience, her point of view?

It was almost cruel, to be given an outside perspective on what I could be, but wasn't, and probably wouldn't ever become. Illustrating my every inadequacy, overwhelming me with goals too big to even borrow. The city. The world. They didn't fit inside my vision. Most of me was still that girl who would've been happy to catch a drug dealer that first night, some no-name C-lister. Meaningless at the level Caster and Assassin operated on, the scale they confronted me with every time they spoke.

I didn't function like this. I needed something. A goal, a purpose, something I could call mine.

I stared down at my gloved palms, their silk and chitin.

And maybe, just maybe, I don't want that something to be this anymore.