I shivered a little as I left the community centre. The instructor had been good-looking, but he'd been staring at me a bit too intently for my liking. Creepy.

I shook off the thought. I'd learned plenty. Firstly, my power evidently did help with learning physical things. The stances, throws and grips had been easy to copy and I knew for a fact that I was doing the best out of all the people there. Second, it was difficult to hold back, to fake clumsiness as I had been doing in the latter part of the lesson. Too many people had asked whether I'd done it before to be coincidence, and the last thing I wanted was to accidentally out myself as a cape.

Speaking of which, cape business was why I was walking down to the nearest bus stop to catch the bus into town instead of going home. There was only one cape in Brockton Bay who was a non-combatant: Parian, a cloth-controller who had a shop on the Boardwalk. My reason for going to meet her was twofold. Firstly, I needed advice on how being a Rogue worked, and who better to get it from than another Rogue? I'd looked up the laws regarding parahumans in business - and there were many - but nothing really beat experience. Secondly, I needed a costume and I knew nothing about sewing. I could learn, but I'd still need a sewing machine, material and stuff, and learning would take time. Better and easier to just go ask for one, and I was pretty sure that even if I couldn't pay up front for what I wanted I could trade for it.

The bus arrived shortly and I hopped on, managing to find a seat next to a window. I watched the city roll by as it wended its way towards the Boardwalk, and I could see its decay. I had read a few theories of social and economic decay over the holidays (there had been an uptick in people writing those over the last few decades) and I could see them in action. Here a boarded-up shop, lowering the appeal of all those around it, there a pack of gangers stalking the streets. Fear of Leviathan may have started Brockton's decline, but it was the gangs that continued to hammer in the nails.

I had to do something about it, before it was too late. It might already be. I'd seen the economic projections on Dad's computer. They weren't pretty. The only real things keeping the Bay afloat were cape tourism, medical tourism and a couple of the bigger companies like Medhall. The Bay needed an influx of workers and businesses, or it wouldn't last much longer as more than a city in name only. I had ideas but no way to implement them. Yet.

The bus pulled up and I climbed off, then made a beeline for the mall, where I knew Parian was putting on one of her shows.

The cape had set up her stage in an open area where three avenues of shops met, and had attracted a sizable crowd. There were people there of all ages, from children to pensioners. The children sat on the floor in front, while adults used cheap plastic chairs. I slipped into one of the seats towards the back and settled down to watch the show.

On stage, a small army of puppets waged war, the casualties floating gently down to the ground. Parian herself stood behind the stage, a living Victorian doll directing her miniature armies like a conductor directing an orchestra. Behind her stood a teddy bear the size of an actual bear, smiling indulgently. She narrated the battle as she went, weaving a story of a handsome prince battling an evil king. Finally, the prince emerged victorious and a cheer went up from the crowd - more from the children, but the adults clapped appreciatively. Parian curtsied gracefully and the stage-cloth rose into the air, wrapping itself around the fallen puppets. I stood. I needed to get changed.

I slipped into the nearest toilets, then pulled off my backpack and opened it up. I drew out the cheap grey suit I'd bought with the last of my savings, along with the cheap plastic mask. It was clear, meant to be painted, and the only features it had were a pair of eyeholes and a set of small holes around the mouth area.

I pulled on the suit and found to my pleasure that it hadn't creased too badly since I'd ironed it the night before. I looked quite good in it, actually. Businesslike. It was just a pity that the suit was so scratchy.

Now for the mask.

I'd come up with the idea a week or so ago after a news bulletin with footage of Purity. She didn't wear a mask, relying on the light she emitted to keep her identity secret. I placed it over my face and pulled the elastic around the back of my head, tucking it under my hair so it wouldn't be seen. Then I closed my eyes and pictured a second mask, one made of my glow hugging the inside of the plastic one. I opened my eyes to a sea of shifting gold.

Something I'd learned over the holidays was that on top of emitting light and forming into screens, my glow could also sense light, forming fluctuating discs about the size of a dollar coin.* So if I formed a pair of these little cameras in the eye holes and a 'screen' on the inside displaying their feed...

Light bloomed, and I was treated to the slightly underwhelming sight of a grey bathroom stall, its walls scrawled with a dozen different slogans, slurs and random phone numbers. I had practised the technique over the last few days, but it was a relief that it was still working. I judged that I'd taken long enough and left the stall, pausing to take a look at myself in the bathroom mirror.

The glow concealed my features completely, allowing only the slightest suggestion of a face to be seen. The camera-eyes stood out little, but the blank-eyed look worked with the image, I felt. The image on the inside was clear and crisp. I could barely tell it apart from when I was seeing normally. The suit was a little ratty-looking, and it certainly wouldn't be featuring on any fashion shows any time soon but it got the message across.

All in all, I looked… different. Not like myself at all. It was a bit too impersonal to be traditionally heroic, but I wasn't trying for Legend's personable charisma. I was more after what Alexandria had, what her grey costume and dark glass mask gave her: an appearance of implacability and inevitability, something more statuesque than a human. It worked, I decided. Satisfied, grabbed up my bag and strode out of the bathroom.

Immediately, a susurrus of whispers spread like wildfire across the dispersing crowd and phones came out in seconds. I resisted the urge to shrink back. You're a cape now, Taylor. You're Aurum. You're going to take this city and make it better, and you can't do that if you're afraid of a few cameras.

Squaring my shoulders, I strode over to where Parian was packing up the last of her things. I swallowed, pushing down my trepidation.

"Parian?"

She turned, then caught sight of me and froze for a moment. The cloth she had been levitating fell to the ground with a whump while the giant teddy moved towards us. She turned to face me completely, shifting into a defensive posture.

"Yes? I believe you have me at a disadvantage."

"I'm Aurum. Nice to meet you," I replied, trying not to cringe at the coldness in her tone.

"I'm sure," she said, not taking the hand I offered. "So. Who sent you? I haven't seen you around, and the Empire would have announced a new cape. You're not Protectorate either. Is this the Elite dropping me a line?"

"No, no I'm not here for anyone," I backpedaled. "I just wanted some advice."

The cape's head cocked to the side. Coupled with the full-face mask and the doll-like look, the effect was unsettling.

"Advice on what?"

"Uh, being a rogue," I replied. "You're the only other one in the city, so I thought…"

"Oh. Sorry for assuming," Parian apologised. "Usually when a cape visits me they're either trying to recruit me or get me to make a costume for them. Just let me finish packing up, then I'll be with you. I don't have anything on later today, although if you want consultation in the future I'll have to ask you to call beforehand. I do have an official phone number."

"Thanks. Uh, sorry about that. The not-booking, I mean." I almost mentioned that I was going to ask if she could help me out with a costume, then bit my lip. I could bring that up later.

"It's alright," she replied. "It's good to see someone trying to go the rogue route." She turned back to the stacks of fabric. They rose into the air and re-rolled themselves. Within moments it was done, and the giant teddy wobbled forward and hoisted the stuff up onto its shoulder.

"So," Parian said as she started walking. "You want to be a rogue. How do you intend to make money out of your powers? Because you have to be careful with that, according to the NEPEA-5 they passed back in 1998."

"Well, I've got three main ideas," I began, following. "First, I'm… kind of a tinker? Sort of? It's more like I just have a real knack for computer programming. So I thought I could write useful programs and sell them, like computer companies do. Patents and things. I know the PRT will have to examine those before I can sell them legally, but so long as I do new things, I'm not infringing on the Act."

I couldn't see Parian's face, but I got the impression she was grimacing. "That's going to be tricky. You're right about having to go through the PRT, but they're meant to be really stringent on tinkertech."

"Yeah. It's not tinkertech, but they'll make me jump through the same hoops."

All the information I'd found on the laws surrounding the sale of tinkertech pointed towards that eventuality. Anything even remotely tinkertech-like made by a parahuman legally had to go through the PRT for assessment. Officially it was to ensure that no-one could sneak some kind of bomb or similar device into something that got into common circulation. In reality, it served as too good an economic stranglehold for it not to have ulterior motives. It was the legal equivalent of founding a city on the Hellespont - a position of power from which one could dictate trade. It had been Congress that had passed the bill, but I would be surprised if the PRT's directors hadn't had a hand in promoting it and, really, I could see the sense. It was just irritating for me.

There was a group of renegade tinkers, Toybox, who sold their inventions more-or-less freely, but they only managed to get away with that because they were based in a pocket dimension built by one of their members, Dodge. Well, that and the fact that they were careful to not sell anything too powerful, or with the potential to do too much damage. The PRT and Protectorate turned a blind eye to them so long as they didn't make too many waves. I had actually considered getting in contact with them, but they'd expect me to move into their pocket dimension, which I didn't want to do. I wasn't just in this for myself, after all. I wanted to help Dad and the city, and I couldn't really do that from some pocket dimension who-knows-where. The whole point of this rogue-thing to start off with was to pull together the funds to get a company started, in Dad's name, probably, which I could use as a platform to get other ideas and designs patented and making money and jobs without having to go through the PRT.

We exited the mall and were angling around towards the parking lot. A few people had followed us as we went, but none tried to approach or ask for an autograph or anything.

"My second thought was selling computer-time." Parian looked at me questioningly. I raised a hand and pushed out some of the glow. It coiled lazily around my fingers. "Part of my power lets me enhance computers. Like, I used it on a laptop and it's as good as a supercomputer while I'm enhancing it. I thought I could get people to pay me to enhance their computers for however long."

Parian looked upwards, tapping an arm with a finger thoughtfully.

"I think that would probably be easier to do. You'll need to register with the PRT and get your power tested before they'll let you, but you'd need to do that to be a rogue at all. I'm sure you know that already, though. Also, you might have to deal with people saying that you're taking away jobs from normal people, although it probably won't be too bad unless you enhance computers permanently. Not too many people are involved in making supercomputers, after all, and that's mostly over by San Francisco. It'd be different if you were over there. You said you had three ideas?"

We were nearing a van with Parian's mask emblazoned on the side above an ornate scroll on which fancy cursive writing picked out the name of her business. The van beeped twice and the lights flashed. The teddy bear wobbled around to the back and pulled the doors open, placing the show supplies inside before climbing in itself, pulling the doors closed behind it.

"Yeah. The third one was to do consultancy work. It's a bit of a combination of the other two. You know, put out ads, be hired to fix a problem fix it, get paid, that sort of thing."

The cloth-manipulator paused for a moment. "I'd say probably wait on that one. You'll need a bit of reputation first, otherwise you won't get any jobs. Make a name for yourself, then go that route if you still want to."

She pulled back a frill on her wrist, revealing a watch.

"Ah, I've gotta go. I've got another show to do, a private one. Good luck!"

Before I could say anything, she had vanished around the side of the van and climbed in. In another few seconds the van drew away. I watched it vanish, then remembered something. I forgot to ask her about the costume.

Dammit.

XxXxXxXxX

*Earth Bet uses these.

A/N: As an apology for the wait for the last two chapters, here's three in a row.