Roland was no stranger to the internet. Having grown up with it, he had heard the warnings his entire life about the people lurking there but had never personally experienced anything too bad. The occasional scammer, the rare bot that managed to break through the spam filter, that sort of thing. Seeing someone messaging him the moment his account had finished being set up was a likely sign of a bot, as was the message, but he replied out of curiosity.

Roland: What kind of deal are you proposing?

Winged_One: One of nonaggression at worst, and cooperation at best.

The implied context behind those words was worrying. He had just created an account on the website, and as of right now it was the only way for someone outside of the village he was staying in to contact him. The only explanation for someone seeking him out was a prophetic or causal ability, and even that premise had its flaws.

Even Mordenkainen, the strongest mage in the history of Falan, could only cast Grand Benediction blindly, not knowing who would come to save his village or when. The immediate contact implied that the person on the other end of the conversation was either an incomprehensibly stronger mage than Mordenkainen or was bordering on the same level of ability as the Goddess of Fate. Both scenarios were unlikely on this world, as the ambient magic was far less dense than Falan. Then again, who knew what was possible. Several goddesses had implied that there was a stronger god on his earth who was maintaining the connection between earth and the game, and the mana density there was even less than here.

Either way, someone who had the ability to identify him so quickly as a potential threat or ally would be far stronger than him, and would have no reason to seek him out. Deciding to play along with the other party for now, Roland replied.

Roland: Go on.

Winged_One: Your magic, as you call it, is the solution to one of the problems that I have been trying to solve for several years now. In exchange for learning how to use magic, there are very few things I would not be willing to help you with.

And just like that, his expectations were thrown off. The other party knew that he could use magic, and yet claimed to be unable to use it on their own? It was either the most bold-faced lie he had heard outside of the game in several years or an implication that this world's system worked far differently than his own.

Winged_One: As a show of good faith, I will give you some context that you greatly lack. To confirm what you likely have already suspected, you are not the only person in this world with abilities beyond those of a baseline human. Those possessing such abilities are referred to as parahumans, or more colloquially, "capes". They are far lesser in number than normal people, with only one other living in the same province as you. Most of their abilities are geared to a specific focus or purpose, with a rare few having demonstrated even the variety of abilities you have demonstrated since your arrival. My abilities are geared towards telekinesis and precognition, which is how I was able to find you.

Storing that information away in his mind with the intent to confirm it later, he continued the conversation.

Roland: While this is certainly good to know, the odds that you will be able to learn magic are slim to none. Fewer than one in ten thousand are able to learn, and out of a thousand apprentices, only a few will ever achieve anything.

Roland: What problem do you wish to solve with magic?

Winged_One: All futures end the same way, no matter how long it takes. The stars die, the universe grows cold, and in time there will be nothing left. Ever since I first looked to the future for answers I knew this, and yet a new option appeared earlier this morning. The futures where I contacted you, though blurrier and unforeseeable at times, all survive far beyond where others would wither away. Those where I chose to fight you, more than half of the time I would die in our first conflict and scarcely any had me surviving past two.

Winged_One: Even if the odds of me being able to learn magic are slim to none, through our combined efforts the safety of the future could be guaranteed. I won't force you to make a decision tonight, while you are tired, but I do ask that you think this over. Even though we have all of the time in the world, it would be beneficial for the both of us to start working together as early as possible. Good night, Roland.

Roland leaned back on the rooftop and looked up at the stars. There was a lot to process, and as he carved his notes for what to do in the morning on the rooftop beside him, his mind was awhirl with speculation on the various abilities that Winged_One had mentioned in passing. If there was someone with the ability to take him and Betta back to their earth, then finding them would be his highest priority after finding Betta.

He unplugged the ethernet cable from the internet array and picked up his laptop and charging setup, carrying both of them inside with him before retiring to his bed. There was much to do, but with great power came the great need to rest.

Taylor had mostly calmed down by the time Betta was nearing her home. Once her anger had passed, however, despair took its place. If Sophia was a member of the Wards, who knew what else they were hiding? If she was unable to work with the PRT, how could she be a hero? There was always New Wave to think about, but as far as she knew they had never recruited someone outside of the two families of capes that the original members of the group belonged to and they were against the idea of secret identities.

As she struggled with these possibilities, Betta spoke up. "Don't worry, Taylor. Just because we can't join the existing heroic organizations doesn't mean we're out of options. Don't you remember my specialty? I'm not strong on my own. With Territory Management and Knights of the Round Table, we can form our own group, make our own Wetlands City. If you're comfortable telling your dad about this, we don't even have to wait for too long to get started."

Stepping over the broken step, Betta unlocked the door and entered the house. After checking whether or not her father was home and finding the house empty, Betta continued. "Even if it's just this house that you lay claim to, we can fortify it until it's as strong as one of the Endbringer shelters you told me about earlier. Even if your father is the only knight you choose to make, he would still be able to take on and defeat a stronger-than-average cape."

With that, he dissolved his shell and spoke directly into her mind. "If you'd like to wait for him to get home tonight, I can form my armor over you while you sleep and wake you when he gets back. Otherwise, I can wake you up earlier in the morning when I hear him waking up."

Taylor shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll just make myself some tea and stay up. If you need to, you can get some sleep of your own."

Just over two cups of tea and an hour later, the familiar jingle of her dad's keys at the front door broke the silence of the room. When she turned her head to the doorway, she noticed just how tired her dad looked. She had a moment of doubt over whether or not this was the right decision, but with Betta's support she chose to go ahead with the plan.

"Dad? Can we talk for a moment?"

"Dad? Can we talk for a moment?"

Through the weariness accumulated from his long day of work, those seven words snapped Danny Hebert into a state of alarm. Taylor was never up this late, always having been more of a morning person like her mother than him, the night owl. Immediately, he began jumping to conclusions about why she would have stayed up this late to talk to him, none of them good. She didn't look like she was injured or distressed, but then again he wasn't sure he would recognize it unless it was majorly wrong.

However, even though he felt the guilt at that last statement wash over him, he steeled his resolve. Certainly, he was tired, but why should that stop him from talking with his daughter when she needed him?

"Sure, just give me a moment to take off my shoes."

A minute later, he was seated in the chair across the coffee table from Taylor's position on the couch. He held a cup of tea in his hands, more for the warmth than the taste. He had never liked the beverage before Annette convinced him to drink it instead of coffee in the evenings, and even now the flavor was associated with too many memories of her for him to fully enjoy.

"So, Taylor, what's going on?"

He noticed her squirm in her seat for a moment before raising one hand from her own cup of tea. Before either of them could say anything, a blue glow coated her hand and forearm, forming into a translucent gauntlet of some type of armor. Even before she spoke, he knew what the next words to come out of her mouth would be.

"Dad, I'm a cape."

As a citizen of Brockton Bay, and more so as the head of one of the largest employers in the city, he immediately compared her armor to Crusader's. It was an uncharitable thought, and one that he discarded almost instantly as the armor on his daughter's arm morphed into the shape of the hand beneath it and returned to cupping her cup of tea. A few seconds of running through the other known capes in the city later, and he was relieved to find no other capes with abilities similar to hers.

"When did you get your powers? Are you okay?"

For all that he had to work around them, he had never been the expert on capes in the family. Annette had been one of Lustrum's lieutenants before the movement had gotten violent, giving her first-hand experience into the world of capes, while Taylor had followed heroes like Armsmaster and the Triumvirate with childish hero-worship and had grown up in the era of cape culture. From what little he remembered of what Annette had told him, capes got their powers at the worst moment in their lives. Their powers were always related to the moment in some way or another, and he shuddered to think what could have happened to make her need a power that gave her armor.

His daughter shook her head and began to speak, telling a tale of isolation and bullying that stretched through her high school career. At multiple moments throughout the story, his hands clenched with anger, and he grounded himself with the heat of the mug and the slightly bitter tea. No matter how hard it was for him to hear this, it had been harder for her to live through it, and him getting angry would be unhelpful to say the least.

He didn't think the story could get worse after she described being trapped in the locker, her voice faltering a few times, but after the confusion of someone else living in her head with the powers came the revelation that the girl who had shoved her into the locker, causing the worst moment in her life, was one of the Wards. One of the heroes had caused his daughter to suffer, and if he didn't distract herself soon he was going to break something.

The story ended shortly after that, with Taylor describing how Betta had maneuvered the two of them out of the Rig without causing any violence. The knowledge that he had told Miss Militia about the reason for not joining the Wards was reassuring in a way, and he made a mental reminder to check the news in the near future to see if anything was done about it.

Grasping for a safe topic to move to, Danny found one. "I may have missed it with the rest of your story, but what exactly are your powers? You mentioned something about a character that this 'Betta' played in a game in another world, but that sounds hard to believe."

After a moment of indecision, more of the blue shell began to form over the bottom half of her face and a voice that was not hers began to speak. "It was hard for me to believe as well, but here I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hebert. My name is Liang Lidong, but in the game I went by Betta so you may call me that if you wish. My story is far shorter than your daughter's, but arguably more unbelievable."

As it progressed, Danny found himself agreeing with the descriptor of unbelievable. He had died, and then his friend who could use the magic from the game in real life came to try to save him? A portal opened and the two of them had been pulled in? His friend had cast a spell to give him a body, some fate-altering spell, and one that let him understand and speak any language? The "magic in real life" bit gave some more credibility to the origin of their powers, but it was still too unbelievable.

"Anyhow, back to the subject of our powers. In Falan, I was a rare class called 'Divine Noble'. It was a jack of all trades, master of none class at first. I can see unclaimed wealth as beams of light stretching into the sky, I can breathe fire, and I was generally stronger than the average non-physical class. The class was also special in that every NPC would recognize me as a noble even before I earned the title. When I reached level five, I chose to specialize in Territory Management. Any land that I owned in the game ran more efficiently than land that I didn't. Crops grew faster, harvests were larger, transportation ran faster, and as I levelled up I found that even the speed of completing paperwork would increase. This also came with the ability to knight certain NPCs, granting them my strength in exchange for their fealty.

At level ten, I learned how to make magic scrolls, which can have all kinds of effects if I can reproduce them. I didn't make it any further than that though. When I died, I'm pretty sure I kept all of the abilities in my soul, but the only source of my physical strength is Roland's Spell Puppet. We've figured out how most of them work in reality, and that's why we have an idea for you."

With that, Betta's mouth dissolved into glowing motes of light, streaming back into her skin. Taylor cleared her throat for a moment and stretched her jaw. "Yeah. So, if we can't work with the PRT, can we work with the Dockworkers? I can make ten people about half as strong as Betta was, and each of them can make ten more about half as strong as they are. It stops after two levels of separation from me, but that should be a good chunk of the Dockworkers. I can also do the Territory management thing with the Docks if you'll let me, and maybe we can also do some hero work."

Having finished his tea by now, Danny lifted one hand from the cooling teacup to rub his temples. It was a lot to take in, and it was nearing midnight.

"I'm going to sleep on this tonight. I can't make this decision on my own, I'm only the hiring manager, but if you want I can call in sick for you tomorrow and you can come in and pitch your idea to the rest of the people in charge. You should get some sleep as well, and we'll talk over this in the morning."

The two of them rose from their seats, and the shell over Taylor's hand finally dissolved. "Goodnight dad."

"Good night, Taylor."