A/N: More text in this chapter that would, in another format, be rendered as 'invisible' (in order to represent something that is 'noticed' but not consciously remembered). I think I might try something new to represent the separation within the narrative, and apply it to older stuff if it works out. Let me know, if you've got the time and inclination.

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It's late. Or early. Either way, it's dark outside.

Hunger keeps me from going back to sleep, once I've woken up. I find leftovers in the fridge, enough to tell that my dad must have fixed enough dinner for the both of us. I'm not sure why he didn't try waking me up, but...well, he probably got in late. I can't exactly hold that against him.

It's been a rough couple weeks for everyone. I should keep that in mind.

I feel a little better, once I've eaten. But it doesn't last very long.

Restlessness drives me to pull on my costume, despite the...the damage to the undersuit. And the vest. That won't protect nearly as much, and the bloodstain is...disconcerting. But I'd rather have it than not, which is as good a reason as any to wear the thing.

It also serves as an extra layer between me and the bones that I'm going to be bringing with me, tonight.

I think it must be shame that has me clasping my coat shut before going out the window. And that's all the consideration I'm willing to put into that.

It takes a couple of tries to adjust to the change in my teleportation, but other than an embarrassing stumble or two, I manage pretty well. Soon enough, I'm not even touching the rooftops as I make my way toward the Docks.

Flying is still thrilling...but it feels hollow, now.

Is it wrong that I hate that the most? People are dead, and I'm upset that I can't enjoy myself as much anymore? Yeah, there's something wrong with that. But then, there's something wrong with everything lately. It seems like every day I'm finding some new, terrible thing to be upset about.

And now I can't even take a night off to relax. I can't just revel in my powers, the one good thing that seemed to have come from all of it. Because apparently, they involve fucking human sacrifice.

I hiss as I teleport again, shifting direction and turning in the air to kill my momentum. A rooftop rolls into view 'above' me-

-and I touch down on it without bothering to recover.

My mask feels too hot, almost suffocating, and I struggle for a second to pull it up and away so I can breathe…

"Fuck." My hands are shaking; I just tighten my grip until it hurts, and stop looking at them. Try to figure out why my heart is racing. Why I feel like I'm about to throw up. Why...?

"It amazes me, at times."

I whirl, throw the mask in my hands as hard as I can before-

-teleporting to the other side of the roof. It's empty, bare. No sign of...

"The human capacity for...focus."

I freeze, this time. Because I'm actually thinking, now. And who else would be here, except him?

He's standing just behind me, holding the mask in an outstretched hand as he examines it. "And interpretation...it's not the most flattering likeness, is it?" He tilts his head, and the mask with it. The grungy, yellowed light from the street below catches on the lenses...but the reflection in his eyes is cleaner. Colder. "But then, artists always have taken liberties in what they portray."

I've got no idea what he's talking about. Something tells me I don't want to know. So I focus on the important thing; the fact that he'shere. "Outsider." I can feel his attention on me, even though he doesn't turn away from the mask. "Is there a reason you're here?"

There's a bitter note to the question, but I don't know if he even notices...after a moment, he lets go of the mask, and I flinch as it vanishes in a puff of smoke. The weight of it settling in my hand is so sudden that I have to fumble to keep from dropping it.

"An interesting choice, to make use of these things. To re-purpose the efforts and the tools of an enemy...and in doing so, claim the advantages and influence that might have been leveraged against you." He folds his hands behind his back, as he turns to face me. "And I was curious to see that you had picked them up again. Despite having learned of their...origins."

...he knew from the beginning. He had to have known. None of this is coincidence, and I can't even pretend to ignore it anymore. "Did you set this whole thing up?" My mouth feels dry, and I struggle to keep my voice from trembling. "Giving us both powers, playing us against each other? A villain to go with your hero?"

"It would be well within my capability...but this is not my doing." He shakes his head, slowly. "I gave you power, yes. But your choices are what led you to this point."

It's such bullshit, but I can't say for sure that he's lying outright. So I swallow down my anger, and focus on what he isn't saying. "And the Tinker?"

"Mine is not the hand guiding him." The Outsider gestures, vaguely, toward the horizon. "And it was never my intent to do so. Just as you set yourself on this path, he has chosen his own. That you clash is...not unexpected, perhaps. But neither was it my design."

"You gave super-powers to a psychopath."

A long moment of silence, before he tilts his head again. "Did you believe that you were the only one to bear my Mark, Taylor?"

I…

"Did you believe that you were the first?"

...I didn't even think about it. Not really, not even when the parallels between our powers started to show up. But…

That...isn't important. It's not. So maybe my powers aren't 'unique'. It sucks, it's a kick in the teeth, but it...doesn't matter. Because there's still a killer out there, people are still dead, and dying. And...it's actually good to know what I'm dealing with. Because now maybe I can actually deal with it.

"I'm getting sick of mysteries...and being jerked around because I don't have the whole picture." I clench my teeth, and glare. "I want you to answer my questions. You obviously know a lot more about him than you've let on, and now you're going to tell me, so that I can stop him."

There's another, long moment of quiet...and suddenly I can't breathe anymore. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to disappear.

Nothing has changed. The rooftop is still clear and empty and poorly lit, the wind still tugs at my coat, at my hair...the Outsider hasn't moved. But I feel as if I'm standing on the edge of a pit, like the only thing waiting for me is cold and dark and an endless fall…

The feeling disappears as quickly as it came. And the Outsider smiles, faintly. "I am not a petty oracle, to be invoked and commanded." I struggle to take another breath, to recover from...whatever that had been, and when I blink, he's standing beside me, with a hand on my shoulder. "But I'll admit that I'm...impressed. Your understanding may be limited. And the line between bravery born of courage and of ignorance may be narrow, indeed. But your willingness to risk cannot be questioned, can it?"

I can't bring myself to speak. Or move. And, after another second of silence, he nods. "I'll answer your questions, Taylor. If you will answer one of mine." Dark eyes lock me in place as he leans closer. "There is something just behind you. Can you tell me what it is?"

There's…[something behind me?]

I swallow, close my eyes for a second, and crane my neck to look.

[It's massive. I know, despite how little of it is illuminated by the light his shadow casts. It reAches foR me, clicking aS it AtTemPts to-]

"There…"

[QueAry? HosT?]

I shudder, and face forward again, squeezing my eyes shut. They hurt, suddenly...I must...must be more tired than…

"There's nothing behind me." [I lie.]

The Outsider hums, and the feeling of his hand on my shoulder vanishes. "Then I'll leave you to your 'mystery'." I can practically hear his smirk. The fact that I can't do anything about it burns…

"But not...without a piece of advice."

I almost tell him what he can do with his 'advice'. But then I suck it up, and open my eyes again. Blink, at his back, as he walks toward the edge of the roof.

"You are not the only one capable of making allies."

He's gone.

And I…

I don't really want to be on this rooftop anymore, myself.

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Early morning. There's just a hint of light on the horizon, weak and gray thanks to the cloud cover that rolled in overnight. Sunrise is here, and even if it's not going to be much of a spectacle, I think I'll just...sit, and watch it.

The problem with working to distract yourself is that you get lost in it. If you're focused enough to ignore the big things, then apparently you're focused enough to ignore the little stuff, too. Little things like bruises, and aching joints. The knuckles on my right hand throb dully, as I massage my hand through my gloves, and my wrist...well. I'm not going to be trying to punch people for awhile. Not until I can figure out what I must have done wrong.

I take a deep breath of salt, and rust, and cold metal...the steady crash of the tide against the hull of the ship makes for soothing white-noise, and on a whim I try to match my breathing to the pattern.

Of course, the moment I finally manage to feel relaxed, my phone rings.

Of course it's Victoria.

I take one more deep breath, let it out slowly...and answer, even managing a smile in the process.

"You're up early."

There's a pause, and an irritated huff. "And you don't sound like I just woke you up."

"Because you didn't." I shrug, tap my heels against the railing I've been sitting on. "I've been awake most of the night."

"Oh, great. So you can suffer later, then...I got my six o'clock wakeup call from my mom, who got hers from the PRT."

That sounds...unpleasant? "Why-?"

"Because they want us in as soon as possible, and as a bureaucratic, government organization, their ideas of sensible hours of operation are severely skewed."

Right. Yesterday...what a mess. "It makes sense, though. They want us to make a statement or something, right?"

"Pretty much."

"So they don't want to give us time to forget anything important."

"Or to get our stories straight." A pause. "I mean, if we had a story to get straight...which, yeah, we don't have one this time. But if we did, then it'd also be a pressure tactic."

"...so you just woke up, right?"

"Shut up." I smile, shut up, and listen to the creak of a bed across the line. "Can you be at the PRT building in an hour?"

It wouldn't take me even half that to reach the place. But I might need to put in an appearance at home, first. "Do you know how long this is going to take?"

"Could be ten minutes, could be an hour."

Yeah. Home it is. "I'll be there."

"Awesome. I'll keep an eye out. We can grab brunch after. You can buy."

"That's-"

"Oops, gotta go get ready, talk to you later!"

She hangs up, and I spend a few seconds just staring incredulously at my phone.

"Brunch?"

Yeah, okay. Brunch. But home first.

I tuck the phone away, pull my mask into place, and get moving.

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Back at home I shower, change, and let my dad know that I'll be at the library for most of the morning. Considering the work he seems to have brought home with him, I doubt he'll miss me too much.

Which is just as well. The less questions I have to dodge...the better.

Back in costume, back out into the city. I've still got almost twenty minutes to kill, so I don't see a need to rush to the PRT Headquarters. Even at a walking pace, I reach it before my hour's up.

No sign of Victoria outside, so I settle on a rooftop one block over to wait. Watch as people walk in and out of the brightly lit lobby, with its...giant windows. Honestly, if it weren't for the bright, shining shield logo emblazoned on the building, you could probably mistake the place for any other office building in town. If a little more upscale than some in the area…

And there she is. Sweeping down to street level. I teleport down to the sidewalk, watch her settle near the building's entrance before appearing behind her.

"Hey."

"Ffff-" She jerks into the air, arching away, and then turning to glare at me. "You asshole."

...right. Maybe should have given her a little more warning. "Sorry?" She snorts, crosses her arms, but still settles back on her feet. Just in time to have to dance aside to avoid the opening doors. A man in a suit startles when he realizes he'd nearly backed out into a pair of Capes, and nearly spills his coffee trying to free a hand to hold the door for us.

Victoria rolls her eyes, and gives him a brief smile as she sweeps inside. I offer a vague nod, which is really about the best I can do with a full face-mask. I don't think it's particularly reassuring, and he doesn't let go of the door until we're well past him.

It's as bright inside as it had seemed from the outside. Clean, tiled floors, white-painted walls...little alcoves manned by armed PRT troopers. I can feel them all watching me; clear lines of sight on the entry for all of them. That's not accidental.

"So much for a 'normal office building'."

"Huh?"

I shake my head as Victoria glances back at me. "Nothing."

"Right." She shrugs, and leads us right up to reception without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Hey there. We were 'asked' in to provide a statement?"

I roll my shoulders as the guy's attention turns to me, for a moment, along with...what feels like everyone else on the floor, at the moment. Maybe I should have left the Charms at home for this. After all, what sort of danger could I expect to run into here?

"Glory Girl and...Crow? Right?" Victoria nods, and he turns his attention to a computer screen recessed into the counter. A few taps at his keyboard, and he looks up again. "If you'd like to wait for a moment, someone will be with you shortly."

"Yeah, I know the drill." Victoria sighs, and gives me a long-suffering look. "There's always a wait. No matter how much of a heads up you give them."

I'm...not really sure how to respond to that. So I shrug, and glance around...it looks like there are chairs over there, a little section that looks like just about any other waiting area in the world. "So we wait."

"You would be fine with that, wouldn't you?"

"My time isn't that valuable. At the moment."

She scoffs and shoves me, lightly, toward the waiting area. "Well maybe mine is. Do you know how much work is involved balancing schoolwork, heroing, and a social life? That's a 24/7 sort of effort."

I'll have to take her word for it, considering I haven't had a 'social life' for over a year, and I've basically given up on...school…

And I'll not be mentioning any of that to Victoria. She wouldn't let it go…

"I'm sure that most capes can sympathize with that feeling. Though you and the Wards dohave things a little harder, there."

I blink, and turn...and take a moment to adjust to the reality of the situation. To how very different my life has become, lately.

Technically, I've already met her once. And...well, I probably didn't leave the best impression. But still, Miss Militia smiles at us, behind her bandanna. And Victoria doesn't even react, other than to turn and comb her hair back. "Yeah, I can't wait to be done with high school…" She sighs. "So, you're here to do this debrief thing?"

"I'll be helping, yes." Miss Militia nods toward the bank of elevators on the other end of the lobby, gestures for us to follow. "We do intend to make this whole thing as painless as possible, after all."

Victoria falls into step behind the Protectorate hero almost immediately. After another second of 'that's Miss Militia', I manage to follow them. Into an opening elevator.

A thought occurs, as the doors shut. "You're 'helping'?"

She turns to me, reaching to hit a button for an upper floor without bothering to look. "I'll be talking with Glory Girl, today." Another smile, as she faces forward again. "Armsmaster volunteered to handle your report."

Armsmaster…?

Oh.

...great.