I sat in my room nervously, a neat pile of papers to my left on the bed and my laptop on my knees. I'd reorganized the pile twice and had resorted to surfing the Parahumans Online forums to pass the time until Dad got back. Outside, the sky was grey and rain spattered against the window panes.

I didn't want to do this. I really, really didn't want to have to tell Dad about my powers. On one hand, he couldn't criticise me for what I wanted to do with them. It wasn't like I was just going out to beat up gangbangers and villains, after all, and I was trying to work towards being able to do the greatest amount of good for as many people as I could. If all went well I'd even provide jobs for the dockworkers. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation, though. I'd kept my powers secret for the better part of a month, and if I knew Dad - which I didn't as well as I would like - he'd want me to leave off, to postpone my plans until I was older.

I couldn't, though. Literally couldn't. In the week since my conversation with Parian, I'd finished the economic and sociological simulation for the Bay and by the time I was 20, the city would be irrevocably lost to gangs, unemployment and crime. For the moment we were scraping by on tourism, but that wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later Panacea would move away, or die, or sign up with the Protectorate or something would happen that would take medical tourism off the table. The big companies like Medhall would pack up and leave eventually unless something pulled the city out of its slump, and there was the ever-present threat of an Endbringer attack hanging over us like the Sword of Damocles. Analyses I'd managed to dig up suggested that the monsters tended to attack places that were already struggling with conflict, or more rarely where someone or something was that could help on a wider scale. An Endbringer attack would be the final nail in our coffin, and even if there wasn't much I could do personally against the Hero-Killer, the Bane of Kyushu or the False Angel, I could try to help indirectly.

And so I had to talk to Dad, because without him I couldn't register as a rogue with the PRT, being a minor, and without registering they'd come down on me like a ton of legalese bricks. I just wished I didn't have to.

I put my face in my hands and rubbed at it, trying to scour away the uncertainty. It didn't make me feel much better.

After what seemed like an age of waiting the front door creaked open. I heard footsteps, then the rustle of a drenched raincoat being hung up. More footsteps, then the click of the kettle being switched on. I breathed in heavily, then out again. It's time.

I picked up the papers and left my room, descending the stairs. Dad turned as I entered the kitchen.

"Hi, Taylor," he said, mustering a wan smile through his obvious exhaustion. "How've you been?" I was tempted to leave my reveal to another day when he was less tired, but I knew that if I did that now I'd keep doing it, keep putting it off.

"I've been alright," I replied. "Nothing much happened." I bit my lip. "I've got something to tell you, Dad." Before I could lose my nerve I drew out the glow, letting it cascade over my skin as it had back in the cave. "I'm a cape."

Dad blinked, then blinked again. Then he seemed to collect himself with an effort and turned away, back to the kettle. I knew him well enough to know that he was busying his hands while he dealt with what I'd just told him. I pulled the glow back in and waited for him to say something. A long minute passed before he did.

"What can you do?" he asked, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea in front of him. I sat down opposite and began to explain my powers in brief, although I left out a few of the tricks I'd learned over Christmas. No need to overcomplicate things. When I was finished there was a long, dragging pause.

"I know you're not going to like me saying this, Taylor," he began. "Because you've got so much of your mother in you, but I don't want you to go out and try to be a hero-"

"I don't want to," I interrupted, then barrelled on as he raised an eyebrow. "Not like you're thinking at least. Look at this." I flipped through my papers until I found the results of the economic simulation and handed the sheet to him. His face slowly went the colour of cold porridge. "The Bay isn't going to last much longer, not without more jobs. So I'm going to try and help there."

He frowned. "How? There was talk a while back when that cape, the one with the suits..."

"Rigger?" He had been a tinker based with a specialty in exoskeletons who'd tried to sell his suits commercially, but had disappeared about a year ago. Some people thought that the Elite had kidnapped him and spirited him off to the west coast, but there had never been any evidence.

"That's the one. He was talking about setting up a business around maintaining his suits, but it didn't work out. We tried, but we could only do the basic stuff - that's how tinker technology works, only tinkers can make it or keep it going."

"That's not what I meant," I replied. "I'm not really a tinker, see? It's just that because of the way my powers work I can program better."

He looked at me dubiously, as if to say 'I don't see the difference'.

"I've looked up tinkers, and they all say that they don't really understand what they're doing. For them, it's like they're suddenly inspired as to how to build something, but it's art, not science, and it's not really replicable. I've just got a knack for programming, and that's mostly because if I link up to a computer it's so much easier to just see how things work."

"Alright," he said. "I get that, but I don't see how that helps other people get jobs."

"It won't, at first, but I'm only going to be the start. I can make a lot of money with my programs, with selling supercomputer-time and with consultancy work, and then I can put that money into businesses that do make jobs, and which can help the city."

"Yes, but where are those jobs going to come from?" Dad asked, and I could see that he was getting a little frustrated. "You can't just magic up jobs from nowhere, Taylor. I should know - trying to do that's my job."

"It'll work because that's not the end of it. I said earlier that I'm better at learning, but I'm just… smarter than I was before, too. Objectively. Those economic predictions" - I gestured to the sheet of paper in his hand - "I wrote it. And I had to learn professional-level economic theory to do so, then apply it to coding. I did that in three weeks - less, even. I've been studying physics, engineering, chemistry, biology, all of it, and I have ideas. Not tinkertech, but things I can patent and sell. And they'll need people to build them and people to manage the people who build them. And that's where the Unions come in."

Dad chewed his lip. "Look, as much as I love what you're trying to do, kiddo, I - I just don't want you to set yourself up for failure. A city's a big thing to try and fix on your own."

"I won't be alone. I'll be starting it, but the point is for other people to get behind it and carry it on. Which is why I'm telling you now: I need your help to start it off."

"Well, I'm glad I'm good for something. Why do you need me? You sound like you've got everything planned out." His tone was light, but there was a hardness in his eyes.

"I need help to make it work," I replied truthfully. "I can learn quickly, but you're more experienced in dealing with this kind of stuff. Also, there's a whole set of laws that say what capes can and can't do in business, and one of the things I have to do if I want to employ more than five people is to have a non-parahuman as head of the company."

"And you want me to do that," Dad completed. He sat back in his chair and ran a hand over the side of his face. "I don't know if I can. I mean, I'm union rep. I can't just leave that."

"I know," I replied. "I know it's a massive thing to ask, but you won't need to for a while. That'll only be once I've got the money to start the company properly. The first parts'll all be me. Although I'd really like your help with them."

"I'll do what I can," he said, sighing heavily. "But… are you sure you can't wait? I mean, you said that you planned all this out over Christmas, and learned all the stuff for it too. What if you took a year or two to get a degree or something - if you did this that quickly I'm certain you could - and then did it? You can't build your life around trying to pull a city out of a rut. It's too big for one person. You need to live, not just try and be a hero for everyone else. I'll tell you now, every hero in the Protectorate goes home and it's that they enjoy more than the work. That's just how people are. You're too young to try to take a city on your shoulders."

He said it kindly, but it grated nonetheless. I'd shown him the evidence. I couldn't wait a year, let alone longer. The sooner I started, the sooner I could make a difference, and a difference had to be made before long. I couldn't just say that to him, though - there would be no point trying to persuade Dad now.

"Maybe," I hedged. "But either way I've got to register with the PRT if I want to do anything officially, and they prefer if you do it sooner rather than later."

He fixed me with a look that told me he hadn't bought my change of stance, but he didn't comment. "Well, it's Saturday tomorrow. How long will it take?"

"I don't know exactly. Probably a few hours."

"We'll do that tomorrow, then, and afterwards we'll sit down and decide what we'll do. That okay?"

I nodded. Dad stood, then paused.

"You know I'm not asking you to wait because I don't think it's a good idea, right? I just don't want you to try and take on the world and burn out doing it."

"I know. I know I can't take on the world. But I have to do something."

He smiled sadly. "You've got too much of your mother in you. I'm sure she'd agree that something has to be done. I just - I just wish it no-one had to do it."

I stood as well, stepping around the table. "Me too. But someone has to, and I can."

He spread his arms hesitantly and I leant into him, wrapping my arms awkwardly around him. He returned the gesture just as uncomfortably, but there was an honesty in it. I focused on that and tried to keep my mind off of tomorrow.

A/N: I do not like this chapter. It did not want to be written. But here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it.

And to the guest reviewer who commented on Adrian, thank you for expressing your opinion. I shall take it into account and try and make the interactions less forced, but I stand by my belief that it's not unreasonable for someone who's in university, has a girlfriend and doesn't know that that their savior is a highschooler to want to say thank you, especially when said person is a cape enthusiast and suspects that their saviour is a cape themselves - a minor celebrity by nature. Speaking as a person around that age myself, it doesn't seem unreasonable to me as I believe that people of my age are capable of thinking with things other than that between their legs.