TYPE TAYLOR Chapter 1: part 1, a worm fanfic

July, 2009

"Now, there's going to be a meteor shower tonight everyone!" the camp counselor spoke up. "But please make sure that nobody strays out of camp without one of us, it's very easy to get lost in the woods and we don't want to have to call your parents to say that we lost you!" Already a few of the kids under their watch were craning their necks, some of them with lips slightly parted as if expecting to see tell-tale streaks of light against the dark pink of the evening sky.

One in particular, a young redhead stood near the back turned to her fellow, one of those with heads to the sky.

"Are you going to stay up for the meteors, Taylor?"

"Hm, I think so, it will be neat, right? To get to see shooting stars even if just for a little bit, I mean it's not like we can see them in Brockton."

"All that light pollution stuff?

"Yeah, can barely see stars where I live."

As the other campers had began to disperse the two remained, and the counselors also did as well to find out what their younger charges were doing or to take care of the next bit of organisation for the night.

"Apparently the meteors are coming at the same time as a comet from all the way from the very far edge of the solar system!" Taylor added, looking back down from the sky to focus on her best friend.

"You dork, c'mon," Emma turned and began leading the way, Taylor catching up after a moment and frowning.

"What are you thinking? They said not to go too far."

"There's a ridge not far from camp, just along the road a bit, we can get a good view there!" The tugging intensified, Emma leading Taylor further down the road.

"But--"

"It's not that far, we'll be fine, if we hear them shouting then it's just a minute or two."

Privately, Taylor wondered whether Emma's 'minute or two' would really be that long, her best friend had been overly optimistic with time before, but indeed only a brief walk from the camp later and using the little remaining daylight as a guide the pair found the rocky seat to wait.

The sun descended with an agonising slowness, conversation passed between them to speed up the process of waiting for evening to pass into night. When the first stars became visible Taylor pointed it out with excitement, although Emma got the first streaking star. One, then another. Faintly visibly momentary streaks in the sky that became more and more easy to distinguish as the minutes crawled by.

Sat side by side, hoping to get a meteor right in the centre of their vision yet each inevitably just off to the side, barely lasting a second or more.

Five minutes, ten, fifteen.

How long had it been since things had felt normal for Taylor? Certainly not at home with her dad, not with the long awkward silences in which both would struggle to find the right words, not with the strange distance formed by her mother's death. Perhaps, despite her misgivings this summer camp would not be such a bad idea, time away from home, away from the city. Just able to spend time with Emma, without worries about home and without thoughts about--

A flash filling the sky, a meteor larger than others. Over the course of a second the light only grew, lancing through the sky.

Automatically both girls looked to it.

"Hey that ones really close--"

The world exploded.

…

The summer camp behind them was burning. The ground was churning as it turned glossy, a sheen of crystal creeping forward from the impact site, changing everything it encountered. A beautiful, alien shimmering world that had already reached her.

Taylors ears rang shrilly.

Staring at that thing partially visible beyond the trees, the upper curve of a vast disc. Grey, or silver? No, green… yellow… or a hellish red? Reflecting light from the trees burning below it.

Something vast was slowly unfurling like a spider dying in reverse, legs opening and making contact with the ground.

All she could do was start at the thing unfurling from the disk.

"--or!"

Something gripped her arm and pulled. She could not escape the feeling that just as she stared at the strange thing, that strange thing was staring right back. That featureless metallic face was pointed in their direction. Was it a face?

The pulling sensation again, wrenching her feet from the crystal that had surrounded and enmeshed her shoes as she screamed something, her name?

She could, with a detachment, see the blood left from where she had been stood, why was it being pulled into the ground, pulled towards that thing?

C̥̙̯̋ͮ̏ͯ̓̌͌̅ō̙͖̭̝̥̲̣̳͕̂ͩ͆̈́̈͊̂ͯͥ̏ͅǹ̹̫͓̜̖͇̦̠ͭ̍ͤ͆ͤ͒ͧͤ̑s̲̲͂̇͌̔ͤ͑̋ͬ̿̓ͦͧu͍ͫ͂̓̃̊̾̓m̱̫͈̹̻̫̖̲̗̗̤͂̅̈̅́̃̃̚p͚̭̖̤͓̻͔̮̪̙͍̔ͭ̊̒̉̓ͤ̄͌t͕̥͓̫͍̦̳̤̰̦̦͙̾̓ͣ͛̌͗͌͑̆̆i̹͖̹͙̫͖̙͛͑͊̓ͅo̳̻̜͉̟̣̜͕̭̣̿̆̋͒̿̑ͤń̯̝̐̽͛̑ͭ̿ ͎̜̩̙͗͆̉̇ͫ̄ͫ͂̅o͚͋͂̆f̣͇̄ ͍̙͒ͪ͌̄̎ͩͧ̃ṉ̰̝̟̜̥̖̳̥̬͓̣̒̇ͧ̑̐̚ȧ̙̠̪̺̜t̯̫̖͍̬̻̲̱̅̃ͣ̈ͣ͛ͨi̘̲̰̳̘̦̰̼̩͓͕ͣ̌͒̚ͅv͚͈̻̥͔̞̜̤̜ͨ͒̀͊̆ͧ̀̽é̪̯̈́ͧͮ̚ͅ ̬͐̃̂o̫͔̬̫͖̎͂r̭͎͈͙ͦͮ͗̇̅̎̓g̺̰͔̈́͂ͣͭ̎̏̃a͚͕̟̮̍̇ͧ̾n̗̭̱̪̬̻͚͚̣̟̜ͮ̐̌ͪḯ̼̹̪̮̖̈́ͯ̈ͧͯ̊͛c̙̞̃̌ ͖͓̜̬̣͇̤͍̫̼̽ͧ̓̓̿̌ͨͬ̍̃ͪͪͅm͙̞̘͇̻̘̘̤͙̾̌̍ͅa͇͇̙͕̗̻̮ͧ̏̓͐̋̈́̓̿̂̎͆̆t̳̼̠̲͎͚̲̬̍̓ẽ̲̲̜̄ͣͧ̓r̰̞͙ͨ͛̋̂ͥ̚i̩ͥͪ̎̇ͭͥͧa̰̟̦͇̬͈̦͇̻̻̾ͭͦ̑̓͊̋̿͆̎ͥl̙̖̫̘̻̦̭͇̿͌̏̈̂ͫ.̩͔̥͙͇̠͇͎͎͌ͧͧ̀̒̐͑̇ͫ ̬͖̠̣̓ͨ͌̉ͫͅŰ̩͉͖̝͖̦̰̿ͬͮ̎̈̐ͫ̂̚s̩̥̖̭̪͇̹͎̙͆̄̊̐̉ͨͭẹ̍f̤̞̝̠̻̅̍̂̍̏̎̏ͪ͒ͅu͙̬͚͔͙͚͈̭̜̪̾ͯ̊ͅl̮̫̮̣͓͕̻̄͗ͬͭ͌̇̃n̤͍̬͔͕͎̮͍̲̋̌͋̆̐̐ͅe̯̪̱̦̭̺͓̟͉͍̯̘͂̉̈̅͂͋s̺͎̭͂̊͐͋͆͂̇ͪͤͯ͊s̻̩͓̫͖͕̻̳͕̜̙̞ͬ͛̅ͨͧͦ ̯̫̖͈͖͌ͣ̄ͭͣͬ̑n̤̝̞͚͔̰̙̮ͨ̀ͯ̚e̼͎̱̖̙̰͔̙̫̼̗ͮ̑͌̎̄̅̚g͕̠͛̈̀ͅͅl͙̠͕͉̤̯̔̿i̘̮͌̋ͭͥ̐ͯ̑̐̓̈ͫg̲̞̩̣̯̹̞̙̺̗ͣ͂͌͌͊ͅi̻͕͖̙̺̩̣͑̿̏̍b̬͚̞̻͔ͨ̅̑̍̋̐l̹̾ͥ͂͛̓ͧ͛̑̏̄́̅e͇̰̭̲̭͈̳̻̘ͨ̂ͮ̊͑̿.͓̣̤̪̳̱͇̲͓̪͇͗ͤͣ

̷̖̥̩͓̩̝͕̺͍͊̔͝

Ȁ̰͈̳͕̪͎͕̪̤̲͔͔̀͋̀n̳̟̝̝̹̻̖̙̮̗͕̚ä̯̪̫̰̤̫̲͓ͥͪ̈͐ͫ̐̃̎͂̓̈l̹̬̜̤̠͇͚͇̹ͤͧ̐̊̿ͣ̃́͗̿y̖͔̪̺̪͇̼͚̤̭̹͒͐s̰̼̫̙̿͌̐i͙̔̈́ͨ̃̑͛̓s̻ͮ ̞ͬ̈́̅̒̚ő̖̓͂̽̾f͇̦͇̎̽̾͊ͥ̽ ̦̘͎̰̺̰͇̗̗̩̲͑ͯ̋͑̍̅̂s̫̲̜̼̅̒͐̓̑ͫͣ͒o̩ͥu̜͙̣̲̙̰̤̮̞̰͍̱̿̍̐̆ͮr̯̿̈́ͩ̈́̋̈́̓̆ͣc̗̠ͤ̔ẻ͙̣̮̋͊ͮͦͩ ̪̱̯̤͈͎̯͎ͬ̑͒ͦ̚ͅc̪̬̱͙̅̉̽̽͌̚o͇̤̬̙ͬ͒ͣ̏̃̈́̇̔̓m̙̯̫͂ͬ̀̔̓̇͑ͯ͑ͮm͇̭̘̻̩̙̤̹̞͇ͬͪ̍̀ͥ̍̇ͭĕ͇̒ͭ̈́̚n͎͈̯̬̭̠̠̲̖̟̥͕͗̂̐̉̆c̹̟̟̰̯̬̙̓ͧ̍ͧͤ̚ͅi̺̞̼̦̲̘̜͔͇̱̓ͬ͛͊̿̈̅ͦ͑ͯ͊̚ͅn͎͉̙͌͌͊̈́͗̆͊̔ͮͮͬ̏g̹̜̰̲̠ͬ̏̋̈́͒̈̏̑̊̚.̘̮̫̗̗̈ ̻̹̲̻͚̼͎͇̹̤̦ͥ̀A͇̰ͤ̍̓ͦ͗̅͐͊̎̑ͫ̂n͇̻̘̘͇̩̙̈́ͦ̑ͦ̍͐̈̉á͖̤͍͍̤̣͈͓̩̯̣̥̓ͣ̇̉̎ͮ͒̅͌̓l̜͇̠̩̣͛͊͊ͫ̏ͩ̆̚y̥̣̝̤̝͍͓͍̌͋ͭͬͨ̉̀ͦͥs̹͍̙͈̤͔̽i̪͉̖̤̣͎͕͛ͬ̓̓͑̆͑ͧ͂̆s̹͉̰̭̟͈̹̘͚̘͌͒͐̌̏ͩͧ͊͒ ̙̖̟̹̮̹̘̩̠̤͒̀ͨ̀̃o̬̩̬̥̻͔͍̞̜̼̦̩ͩ͋f̗̣͕͓̗͇̭̲͚̦̲ͧ͌ͯͦ̏ͣͧ̋̌̓̅ ͓̲̘̞̼ͤ͛ͧ̽͊ͮͤͫ̐c̝̮͔͍͈͍͖ͨ͌͑̃̂̊o͎͓̪̖͚͉̲̩͔̿ͫ͑͐̈͐ͦ̀̎ͯͭn̼̺͎̞̟͎̰̂̓̽̈́͌̒s̳̘̟͎̝ͨ̂͌̇̂̿̂̚p̱̗̰͈͔̙͑ͅe̯̼̬̦̟̭̭̲̬͙̯͐͗ͦͦͭč͖̤̤̩̼i̮͇ͨ͊ͧ̓̽ͯf̼̦͐͒ͤi͓̯̪̾̀̿̏c̜̖̟̤̩̩ͧ̃ͅͅs̺̱̞̫͚͉̝̜̥̎̀͑̏ͣ̅̍͂͗̿͒ ̳̜̦̺̞͚̹͙̆̓ͩ̆̈́̆̄̃̔ͪt̘̟̂̅ͣ̆͛o̙̬͉̹̹͈̹̩̫̱̞͋̓̋̔͑͒͋̚ ̲̺̱̻̙̲ͤs̭͖̉o̺̤̯͓̯͍ͥ̔ủ̪̭̮̗͖̜̋͋̔ͣͬ̓̔ͩr͖̬̂͒͆ͦͮ̂̚c͎̔͊ͫ̒ͩͤ͂͊̄ͦ̽̈́ȇ̫̬͊ͬ͑ͮ̔̿̽͑̀͂ ̟̳̫̱͍̖̦̲͖̣̞͐́͑w̺̬̟̍̔̊͒i̭̟̟͎̯̱̞̣ͮ̒ͩ̊ͪͦ̑̽̽t͔̜͍ͥ̀͆ͫ̒̍̔̂͌͗̉ͤh̘̳̪̘ͦ̎̔̍ͩ̊̅͂̂͒̃̚i͓̬ͨ͐̓ͦͩ̾ͬ̉n͔̜͚̳̼̙̅̔ͪ̍ͧ̏ͫ̊ ̩ͧṙ̬͇̳̯̞̥͙̫̺̪̑͂̂͗̅̓͗̈ͭ́̐ȃ̲̩̻̬̳̬̰̰̬̓ͫ̽d̹̱̎́̈͋̽i̩͓͑͑̄̊̆ͬͪ̍̂͆̓u̬̹̥͉̳̫̟͂͗ͣ̃͒s̟̟̹̐ͮ̈

̟̗̘̰͎̩̦̲̰̣ͮ̽̀ͣ͂̆̉͌̍͒͛Ȧ̭͍͍̂͗ͣ͊ͯͬͤ̆ͩ̄n͎̗̣̪͇͙͚̭̪̔ͅo̠͔͓̬̯̙̫̜̔ͧ̈́̃̋͒̑̈̉͆ͅm̖̼̻̔̉ͬ̓ͣa̙̱̺̲̺̦͚̙̬͍͕ͤͦͧ̐l͙̹̺͍͖͚̦̭̦̠͇̅̆͊ͅy̟̟͓̥ͫ͂̂ͯ͆̓̚ ̟͔͕̺̳͖̪̩͇̒̈́̾̊d̺͍̥̙̺̅͐̎̇̎͒ͮ̄̆̓ͫͩe̳̲̙̯͎̔̇̈́̄̈͂̾ṭ̮͇͖̝͓̼̩̰̳̹̗͐ͨͪͣͪͨ͂ͭ̓͆e̻̦͖̹͎̜ͪ̽̀̑ͬ͑̚ͅc̜̲̲̪̣̄͗̐̾̑ͅt͉̩̒ẽ̺̥̹͙̭͕̭̹̙͙̓̿͌͑̍ͮd͓͔̰͚͙̞̟̹͉̺̲͈ͭ͛͆̌ͭ̄̅͌̿̓͌̚

Even as she struggled not to black out she could not feel any sort of sensation apart from the utter need to get away. Yet she could not, not of her own will. Just looking at it was utterly hopeless, like being caught under the crushing weight of an ocean her heart sank like a stone.

A͚͚̦̗̝̦̝̰̖̝͕̿̀ͦ͋̀͗ͨṅ̮̭̳̜̯̲̗̑̏͊̅̉̋ͭ̅ͅò͉̰ͦͬ̆m͕̞͔̬̜͔̞͕̝̤ͭ͗a͔͈̻͇̗͖͔̪̲̥̬͌̓͆̋l̫̮͎̲̻̼̣̥̎̄̄̉͌ͧ̏̄ͭ̚o̭͓̮̤̗̘͙͓̝̯̗ͮͭ̊̍ͯ͐͂̄̓̾̄̚ū̙̩̼͓̺̝͖̻̟ͩ̈́ͯͮ̋ͧ̾ͩͣ͒s̱͔̘̝̺̻͔̼̯̼͚͙̒͊̏̓͌̉ͫ̚ ̦̮ͩ̇ō͎̲̩̳̮̲͔̣̖ͪ͂r͈͇͉̺͔̙̓ͯg̘̫̘̮̬̥̣͍̜͛͆̀͗̈́̔͊̎̽̉ȃ̱̔ͬͪ̿̂ͅn͖͕̳̮͍̬̱̖͙͈͋ͯ̔ ̫̼̙̦͖̓̈ͭͯ̽̿ͅd͓͉̪̪̤̩̟̩̱̓̀͊̆͐ͫ̋̿͐e̘͓͙͎͍̦̝̞̦̤̙̠͗̾͒̅ͤ̓̔ͪ̅t͖̣̝͚̣̰̮̭̱̾ͯ́̓e͎̯̤̹͍̝̩̱̤̘ͬ̔͆̍ͪ͗̐ͩͧ̚c̗̲͍͖̠̩̭͉̳͔̗̑ͯ̽͛ͨ͌̈́͐͑̈́̅t̘̪̫̭͖̪̯͍̟͕͒̓͂̌̉ͅͅe̜̳̮̤̞͉͉̺̪̦̅ͪ̄͂d͉̫͉̭̳͎͙̗ͯ̃ͫͭ̄̓́́̀ ̝͕̩̰̙̏́͑ͫ͐̚w̳̭̗̺̫̠͙͇̳͎͚̤ͩͥͧ͐ͣ̔͐͆̃́ī̖̘̥̮̥̰̼̼̺͎̲̈́ͬ̍ț̲̼̻̥̺̠̪͊̾̄h̹ͦ͌̈͒͒ͮ́̔̉i͍͖̬̰̼ͨ͋͛̅͗̓̈̒ͧ̽ͅn̞̜̝̘͓̼̣͇͕̺ͩ̐̀̏̍̆͛̇̅̚ͅ ̫̖̰̪̜̪̻̅̀͗ͤ̌̋́̓͂̚t̟̗͕̣͈̋͌̓ͤ̀ͯͩh͚̰̳̜͇̲͙̠͓͕̳͙̾̌͑͐̑ͩ̚e̤͙̗̲̳̻̱͙͒̋͗ͬͨͤͅ ͓̜̝̮̲̮̳̇c̘͗̆͐̊͑ͅr͈̞̗͉͕̜̣̯̳͖̞͇͐͗͐̒̊̊̅̅̆̒̅̒a̱͉̮̩̫͍͈̺̋͒͋̂̎͒̓ͅn͖͕̗̫̝̝̖͇ͦ̈̏̇̒̽̾̎͌ï̝̪̊͌̈ͯ̑ͪ̀͂̉̚a͎͉̙͓̭ͦͬ̆͐ͮ̈̍ͅl̩̳̦͎̼̩̪̺̲̀̎̈́ͫͅ ̖̋c͇̯̗̗̟̓̿̍͗ͧa̰̗̣̘̳̞̅ͮ͗̆͆͊̚s͔̠̘͉̦̜̱̯̫̼͉ͫͭ͋ͨͩ͛ͅi̗̤͕̲̝͇̻̞̰̓̌ͤ̽͗̍̓ͤ̐ͅn̤̭̤̻̼͈͇͊̍g̼̝̝̮̲ͣͧ͒̋̅ͨͅ ̤̦̞͙̫͓͇̿ͯ̒̈́̆ͣ̐̄a̰̓ͫ̆̒̈́͌̔n̘̩̙̹̲̳̭͖̗̝̟̳͊ͮ͂̊ͩͣ̑ͤ̂͂̚d͖̺̘̖̼͚̣̖̜̹ͮ̂ͅͅ ̲̪̙̬͍̮͖̠͓̖̪͇͑ͧͣe̪̳̖̳͚͕̪͇̫͙̗͚̒̏̉̈̂̔̀ͬ̑̃n̠̖̥̪̳̓ͤ͌͐̄̊̒̐͌c̻̺ͧͦ͗̅a͔̟̼͎̺͍͊̔ͬs̫̼̎͛̏ͤͯ̓̑̽ͤͮe͙̠̺̗̤͓͙̫̯̝͛̿ͩ̌̎̐̈̌̈́̏̾ͦd̼̞̬̙̠̮̳͈̣͆͋͆̈́̽̄ͭ͋̆̈́̌ͯ ̫̳̎̆̏ͯ̓͑͛i̩͕̹̓͐̉̐̉̓̆̀̀n̙͙̲̦̳̂͑̊̑͂̚ͅ ̺͕̤̥̺̤͕̮̩̭̠͌̎ͤ̓̒͛ͫ̎̚t͉̞̳ͫ͐̏͐̑̄̒̚h͕̤͚̺̭͚̖̰̲͇̗̅̾̿ė̟͚̫͍̩̩̻̟͉͓̼̪̈́ͤͭ̊̔́ͫͬ̃̌̚ ̮ͪ̃̓ͦͅc̭̼͙ͦͣ̽͋͋͋̄̋ͨ̽͊ỏ̙̠͍͓͎͈͕͙̠͔͑̓ͥ̉̚g̤̖͚̮̒̌ͪͧ̑͊ͩn͔̼͕͇͈̅ͤͥͬ͗͐ͩi̼̲ͮ̍̐̄͑͗̓̾̚t͇̝͙̱̾ͬi̮͙̓͂̋̄̚o̥͈̻̙̳̭͍̙͚̬̓̐̏̉ͥ̉̏ṇ̦͉͇̬̗̟͌ ͉͕̱̲̜̳̜͚̣̠͈͙̽̾ͬc̩̰̲̹̜̪͉͛̄͊e̩̯̩̺̖͊̊ͮ͂ñ͖͔͖̟̩̜ͨ͛ͧt͚̘͍̦̲̻̗̠̉̒̓ͬ̐̈́͊ͤͭͣͧr͚̠̖̠͇̪̲̼ͧͤ͆͑̽ͧ̀e̖̰̲̮̙͚̤̰ͦ̂̌͑ͦ.͓̮͈̟̗̲̮͉̺͆̏̀͋͌̇̃̐ͯ͗̅ ̤͔̣̰͉̪̱̜͔̟̥̂̇̓͊͋ͦ̇ͩͬA̳̝̜͔̮͚̐̉ͭ͂ͫ̃̍̚n̪̩̩̲͓͕̻̞̱̲ͥͦ̆ō̲͔̮̞̳̺ͫͧͅm̗̦̦͑ͦͨͤa̳̤͌̓́͒ͧ͛̅ͧl̲͚̬͉̖͎̺̰̯̻͍̆́̑̊ͩ͆̀̃o͖̜̖̺͉̺̞͚̹̗͖ͧͥͩ̃ṳ̝̜̼͚͉̻͛́ͦͧ̾͊̎̎̃s͖͕̣̽ͣͦ̂ͤ͊ͬ͆ ̤͎̪̫̣̦̹̦̜̦̙̮͆̊̅ͯ̓́o̯̘͚͔͎̹̗͖͙̭ͥͧ͌͊͊ͪ̓͆̓̉ͦ̆r̺̯̘̺͉͙̻̗̹͈̩̾̾g̰̑̀̿ͤ͊ͫ̈́a̩̹̼͓̲̻̻̥̠͉͇͊̽̇ͣ̑ñ̳̙̰̭͚͕͖̹̲̭ ̞̱͉̃ͬ̈͆ͭ̌n̙͔͔̻̪̩̙ͯ̆ͣͪ̐̿͗ͧͅo͉͖̹̳̯̙̟͂̂̌ͤ̌̂͌̂̈̓ͅt͕͎͙̠̘̙̹̻̝̖̗ͬ͑̌̔ͦ͆ ̞̲͇̪̥̜̮̬̬͙̊́̋͂p̩̝̱̭͛͌͆ͅͅr̗̞̱͔̙̦͚͙̫̦͗̑e̞̺͖̘̪̊s̪͇͎̲̲̺̱̤̗͌e̙̅̓̔̿̐̽̎̑̄̀ͯ̃n͙̮̟̫̦̥̼͛͒̎̓̓́̀̂ͫͫ̔̚t͎̝̭͚͎̓͒͊͋͐̑̀͆ ̩͕̼͍̺̭͓͔͙͎̮̣͐ͪ̍̂ͪ̄̏͋i̱͓ͧ̔̃ͥ̎̊n͙̮̰̍̒̍̑̌̉͒ͣ̒ͧ̐̐ ͕̦͙̦͇̘̜̥̗̝ͦ̇̎͋ͯ͆̚ͅc̘͈͈ͧͨ̏͌̐o̙͔͕̠͂̿͒͛͒ͥͯͣ̊ͅn͙͖̬̼̥̟̲͖͙̏͆ͬ̎̾̐s̺̟̗̖̭̰̋ͪ͂͂͛ͭ̾̆̃p̜̮̣̟̪̲̲̩̝̏ͪ̈̈́͐̉̈́̉̚ȅ̤̞̳̝͚̘̋ͬ͛̐͆̐ͯ͌ͅc̜̗̩̰̎̍͆̏̈́ͨi̭̜̮̍̄̈́̈́̌̉̊̎f͕̼̮̭͇̜͖̜ͧ̈͆̾͋̆̚i̪͚͓̦͓̫̜̭̤͎̟̖͂c̝̜̲ͥ͗͐͊̉ͪs̫̲̝͚̺ͧͭ͋̑ͮ̊̔͋ͅ

Just looking at it made everything hopeless.

Her mother was dead. But that was insignificant to it, nothing could be done.

Her dad was barely holding it all together even a year later. But that was insignificant in the face of everything, in the face of everything else going on in the world.

The Endbringers could attack wherever and rip the very heart out of the entire city she lived in. Who would care? Would anyone notice? What could be done? It was like she was looking at a force of nature, except it was a nature from beyond the Earth.

A̼̪͇̎͛̾̆̓̓̚n͈̫̱̊̎ḁ̖͎̬̻̙̬̖̮͒͒̍ͧ̋̂̾̅͐̾l͓̯̽̌͋ͣͩͅy̭̙̳̳͚̪̐̂͋ͮs̻̰͉̄ͭ͒͂̒̇̉̇i̺̘̤̘͎̫̼̹̣̗̰͍ͪ̽ͪ̃̓͋̋̌̚̚̚s̼̎ͧ͋͋̿ͨ;̹̹̮͓̥͐̓̈ͯ͊̆̇̓̚ ͔́̉͋ͩ͒ͫ̉̑̌ͥ͛̚o̞̫̫̣͂̀͌͆̈́̔̃̿ͧ͑ȓ͇̺̹͓̯͔̱͖̝͎̅ͫ͐ͅg͖͚̬͚͇̞̪̤͛̊̇̆̅ͅä͓̭͙̤̘͎͎̙̞̦̈́̄̔͋̽ͅn̻̠̟ͦͧ̊ͯ̍ ̭̠͔ͭͮ̚f̞͚͓̯͎͚̈́ͪa̲͖̬̖̮̰̼͍̐̽̾ͥ͂ͯ̎͆ͧͭ̉̚ͅc͚̞͐̏̎͂ͨ͌̏̅̚i̲̞̟̒͋̇ͤͪ̄ͯͫ͐̏̈́̏l̼̙̣̝̠̤̳̝̰̦̓̚i̥͖̰̼͔̗͎̞̜͍ͯ̅̆̅́̏̔t̙͎͇̖ͦ̄̔̾̓̍ͨ̎̐a̜̹͉͚̻̪̩͖̳͙̅͒̀̽̃ͩ̅̎̓̓t̮̼̰̭̔ͧ̐̈́ͫ̑̈̅̓i͔͍̘ͥ̋͋ͦ̈́̔̽̿̎ͮ̚n̗̮͍̏̉ͤ̏̒͗̎̅̓ͪg͈̠̰̯͇̗͎̰̼͚͇͊̏͋͋̍͂ ͓̹̩̑̂̿͊c̘̬͇̺ͣͬͭͨ͐̓̅̓̿̚o̩̙ͦń̩̃̿͋̓n̯̯̠̰̤̙̞̳̗ͣͬ̐̍̃̍̃͆ͮ̅ͪ̂ẹ̫͙͎̜̳̳͎͖ͨͫ̀͑̆ͅc̼͉̬̤̦͚̩ͪ͗ͫ͗t̘͙͖͈̙̻̗̥̰͎̹̂̚i̯͙̤͇̱̰̞̝̓ͯ̚ô̥̯͋̒͌ͪ͌͌ͭ̍̉̈n͇̟͛̂͑̇̽ ̭͈̟̩̼̥̰͉̳̱̍̌̾ͮ̐ͮ̃̇ͅő͉̜͉͎͔͇͉̒ͦ́ͯ̏̾ͅf͓̮̬͖͐̒͌ ̘̘̘̟̦̥̾͆ͬ̌ͮi͇̋̾ṉ̥̯̗̲̜͈͓ͫͭ̒v̠̺͔̳̝̩͖͙̘ͮ̃ͥ̆ͣ̐͋a̪̰̹̹̜͙̠͖͈̲͋͆̅̓̄̊ͨͬs̞̰̻̘̟̦̰̬̦̣̖̿̾ͪ̂ͯi̻̞̹̯͖͙̝̭͖̖̲͌ͭ̊ͤͩv̩̮̊͗͛͋́̇ͩ̑͛͋e͎̭̦͔͕͔̳̪͍̲ͭͣ̿̀̉̄ͣ̍̚ͅ ̮͓̥̳̗̣͇̰͍̋͂̓ͣ̿̉ô͇̰̼͙̗̫̰̾r̝̜̝̮̮͕̙̰̜͎̯̐g̪̗̭͍̬̟̗̝ͭ͗̑̄ͧ̉͆̚a̰̜͚̬̮̲̬ͦ̌ͯ́̂̐̊̚n͔̳͓̟̼̟͋̈́̌ͤ̾ͣ̈͊ͮ̾i̳͎̙̫͓̥̝͚͈͕ͥ̑̓ͣ͂̆ͫͪͩ͆ṡ̰̹̯̞̬͙͔̬̼̥̗ͣͬ͗ͥm͉̻͔̩͌ͧͧ̈̅

In the face of utter hopelessness, Taylor allowed herself to stop thinking, to stop resisting Emma's efforts like a lost lamb even as the crystallisation progressed with each footstep over the warped alien world around them.

̯͙̭̗̟͔̝̹̰̱̉̏́̅ͤ̍Ṭ̲͉̮̼̞͈̙̦̗̌̃ͫ̓̄̑̽̑ͫ̏̊e͔̞̘̲̗̰̣̠̱̝̭̎͆̎̚ȑ̦̘̰̪̜̠̳̻͖̮̂̔͂̍m̝̱͖͔͕̞͉̱̔͊i̫̖̭͓ͮ̔͊̐̍̐̈̑̅ͣͅn̟̩̜ͨạ̹̮͚̥̦͍̪̥͖̱̘͋̈̎̈́̓ͦͪ͛̽͐̚t͚͓̠̪̯͐͒͑ĩ͉̞͒ͮ̏̍ͭ̅͛̑ͨ̏̽n̯̱̹̻ͪ̃g͇̻̮̠̖̬͖͖̍͛͛̌ ͔̯ͪ̋̓̓̂̑c̥͙̪̰͖̲̓́ͅõ͚̞̞̱͓̩̞̭̣̠͍̩͆̊͒ͦ̊ñ̥̖͔͙̲͉̘͍̯͈̮n̰̹̣̤̫̥͓̱̦̺͍̏e̝̗̰̩̠̦͖̹̩͔̜̐ͤc͈̖͓̉ͬ̒̏͋̾ͯͦ̐t͙͈͈̦̜͎̣̜͍ͪ̏ͭ̆ͪ̂ͦi̞͓̯̰̩͎̲̰̮͔̯̟ͭ̑́̓̐̿͌o͚͙̞̱͔̺̭̩͗̓͒n̟̳͊̅ͩͅ.̱͔̮̭͖͈̳̹̘ͯ͐ͭ̄ͣ͂ͥ͂͋ ̰̳̗̖̻̙̪͇̲͈͐̃Ẽ̜͓̙͙̖͙̱͇̞̮̏̅s͇̿͒͊͌ͨt͉͕̓̐͑ͨ̌͗ͬ̃̎ȧ̹̻͇͈ͪ͐ͅb̲ͩ̍͑̂͆̃ͩͬl̮̖͓̮̻̲̺͈͙̭͚ͯ͛̉ͭ̉ͥͪ̾̾ͤ̏ͬi̤̩͂̒ͫͩͪs̜̿̇̔͑̄̋͋̾̚̚h̖̳͖̦͈̔̀̃̌̑ͫ̌̈̋ͣ̎͊i̭͔͙͙̣͈͔͐ͩͤ̍͒ͪͪ͌͋͗͂̚n̬̞̥͊̓̂ͮ͛ͩͮͯͧg͚̝̦̖̹̩͎͍͎̭̥̘͌ͪͩ̇͒͆ͭͫͨ̏̚ ̠̝̰̦̪ͧ̓̂̂͒̋r̻̯̥̝̟̪̫̺̹͔͎̜̈̔͂̎̈͐͊̎̒́̃e̟͖̝̫̘̤͕̎̆ͦ̔̆p͖͖͉̳̲̿l̠͚͊ͮͣ͌ȧ̰̱̘̮ͥͦ̽̉̄ͥc̟͚̮̽̽ͤͬé̺̱̥̮͚͎̝̬̝̪̪̾m̝͖̜̹͈͍̩̜̲̍̓̋ͯ͊͊ͣ͆ͭe͍͙̲̜͖͙͎̻̼̠̗͔͐̀ͭ̌n̳͕͖̼͑ͨ̎t̯̟̽̉́̑͒ͧ̎͑̄̀̃

April, 2011

"Your crystallisation has progressed by only two and a half millimetres, Taylor."

"That's good."

The words came out automatically.

It is what she should say. Objectively it was good news to hear, that the slow, inevitable progression of the fatal condition had only claimed another few millimetres of the space just below her knees. Even looking down at her fully crystalised toes, like sparkling polished opals glinting back, she knew she should be glad for the news.

The doctor was kneeling down, examining where the crystal met flesh, where the constant, rolling ache is from. With a pair of extra thick gloves she poked and prodded about the pink, inflamed flesh at the very edge of the crystal. They always have the gloves even though it has been proven that the crystal doesn't infect and spread outside of the radius of… of...

"You're a very lucky girl."

Lucky?

Why does everyone keep using that term? Lucky. Lucky to not be one of the ones who was fully crystallised by the impact, or did not come back with most of their bodies already changed, or lucky that her inevitable death will be a long way in the future?

Lucky she got away from an S-Class threat?

"I am going to take a chip for the people at the PRT to look at now," the doctor said, taking out a long, dark metal chisel.

Tinker-tech apparently, designed to be minimally invasive and without causing unnecessary unpleasant sensation and damage to surrounding crystalised tissue. The first, almost tentative time the hammer struck the end it barely made the instrument scrape along the glossy crystal.

They always promised to send back any results if they found them. Nothing yet. She had learned more about the crystal from the internet then from anything the PRT could supply.

The first strike was too weak; or perhaps deliberately so that Taylor would know to prepare herself for the next one. Not that the five following attempts to dislodge a piece of the crystalline material were successful, only on the sixth did a small piece come loose, carefully picked up with tweezers and sequestered away in a translucent plastic bag.

"We'll get you booked in for another check-up in a month, seeing how your crystallisation is very slow."

The smile on her lips seemed forced. Or perhaps as a specialist on the matter she has truly adopted the bedside manner of one who attends to doomed individuals.

Wordlessly Taylor slipped on her socks once more, hiding away those ten twinkling toes and the foot they were attacked too. She could still move them, which was better than some folk for whom the crystallisation meant paralysis. Another mystery of the substance that had confused so many.

"Any work on a cure?"

"I'm sorry--"

'But there is no cure.'

Not currently, at least. If the PRT could not find a cure for the members of the response team that went, if two of the five surviving members were still slowly dying in hospital beds somewhere, then what chance did she, a plain, normal person, have?

All the pleasantries were taken care of, the 'see you soon' and 'have a nice day'.

The Oort-Spider they called it.

Apparently that's where they think it came from, from somewhere far outside the solar system called the Oort Cloud.

The Simurgh came out from behind the moon, so the first thought was that it must be the fourth Endbringer, some new horrific abomination that would strike as part of the rotation of Behemoth, Leviathan and the Simurgh. Yet it just sat there, perfectly still unless disturbed. There were enormous fatalities during the first encounter between the PRT and the creature, only the Triumvirate seemed to come out unscathed and the area had been closed off utterly since that day.

Sitting in class, alone, Taylor could not help but idly wonder whether it noticed her.

That night as the world was turning to crystal it was facing her, if it had eyes it would have been looking at her, did it notice her?

She had wondered about it many times over the last two years.

"Taylor?"

A hand on her shoulder.

She jolted.

"Emma?"

Her best friend once had a good chance at becoming a successful model, but with her left arm up to the elbow crystalised from a brief moment of contact when she fell and the underside met the ground during their flight from the Spider… well, amputation to save the rest of the arm was the only choice. She rejected the chance to have her legs removed though, like Taylor. At the current rate of progression they both have a decent amount of time before full crystallisation... right?

Had it not been for Emma, she would have just stood there staring at the S-Class threat until the crystal consumed her.

Taylor looked away from the redhead, focusing on the desk as a familiar guilt rose.

"Where were you, Taylor!?"

Emma was leaning too close again; ever since that day her friend had been different. Everyone who came out was different. Nobody could look at that thing and be normal again.

"I ate on the roof."

"Why?! I was worried?"

Emma especially.

"I'm sorry, Emma." She tried to make it sound genuine, to force through the enthusiastic apology that would make it all better. But the redhead's frown only made it worse. Did Emma resent her? Did her dad resent her? Hell, did Alan and Zoe Barnes resent her, for being the reason Emma was out stargazing that night? They still invited her around, so that was a good sign right?

Why couldn't she muster up the enthusiasm to show it? To let her emotions really show to them all, rather than just apathetically shrugging and making platitudes. Stuck in a constant mental quagmire in which it was hard to care about anything but going through all the motions of life, struggling to pretend, to put on a false front when people asked.

At least her own crystallisation could be hidden more easily then a lot of the survivors, at least for now.

"I needed a moment," she forced out, looking at the artificial wood grain on her desk.

"Whatever." Still the redhead took a seat beside her, sitting with a huff and moodily pushing her chin into the palm of her solitary hand. How often had they done this, unwilling to sit apart despite the unspoken issues between them? When one felt hopeless the other would stay over, or be there to listen and talk when it became too much, either the survivor's guilt or the aching pain in their legs. Things had gotten complicated since summer camp.

Across the room another girl was looking at them both, dark skinned and with a slight frown. Sophia Hess. They were in the same class, but Taylor had never really noticed the girl much. The few times they had interacted she always seemed a bit abrasive.

Emma looked at Taylor, and then followed her gaze. For a moment the two stared at one another, Hess focusing on Emma until the former looked away and went back to her own business.

"She was talking earlier to me, all about how people…" Emma paused, frowning a little and distractedly looking away. "Something about predator and prey, how you are one or the other and that I could be different and not prey anymore."

"What did you say?"

The other girl was silent for a moment.

"Emma?"

"I told her to go to the crystal valley."

Silence reigned between them again. Not an unpleasant sort, Taylor knew exactly what she meant. How could anybody believe in a notion like that when things like the Endbringers and the Oort-Spider existed? Or even capes.

Taylor set her head down on her arms, glancing to the clock. Only a few minutes until class began again.

There were times when Taylor felt something watching her… or through her. The hairs on the back of her neck would stand on end, she would find herself focusing suddenly on things she should not.

Perhaps it was just paranoia.

Perhaps that feeling of sudden, cold analysis that would come when watching cape fights and Endbringer battles on the news was just some detached part of her brain that had developed from the shock and horror of what she went through at the summer camp.

But as she would watch the footage, not blinking for minutes at a time to take in as much information, as much data as possible.

She tried to avoid the news that showed such things only to find her head turning to watch when it came on. When she would check PHO for news on Alexandria her fingers would move her through to discussions about new capes and powers as if on their own, a cold but morbid interest coming over her. She could be up for hours just… absorbing it all.

Taking in as much as possible despite having no use for it.

It was when she would cut herself on a knife whilst preparing food, only to find the injury gone the next day as if it was never there. Or how within a day of becoming sick it would be gone suddenly with the sure feeling that she would never suffer it again.

Emma didn't have that.

It was the sensation of not belonging, or running her fingers along her crystalised limbs with familiarity and the sensation of it belonging.

She mentioned it once and promptly had a psychiatric evaluation.

The constant desire to return to the crystal valley and see that thing again.

̠͕̺̝̮͙͙́ͪ̏ͥͧ̄̇D͎̣̙̀̀̓ͣ͂͋̃̑ͤ̚a̦̮̦̙̩͕ͤ͛t̬͔͍̼̃̿̊́ͣͤ̔̈͗͋ͧă̪͓͎̙̖̪̗͉̩̺͔̿̅̒̉͋̀̏̉́ͦ̃ ̖̪̩̺̫̦̺͈̱̙̗̞̍̂̈́̍͂ͬͬ͌̓͒̒a̱̘̮̻̤̼̣̩ͯn͈̱̣͚̮ͨͯͤ̌ͤ̅̄̈́̎́̚ȧ̤̠͎̣͚̬͙̬̘͉ͫͦ̈̎͒͆̒̚l͚͎͚͍͓̟͚͗̆̇ͩ̈̾͑y͓̹̤̦̹̳̣̏̆͒s̲̟͇̓͌̍̿̀ͩͥͅi̖̳̮̊ͤͤ̃̑̑s͓͑̓͋̽͊̌͆̂̽͛̋ ̩̯̖̳̻̹̞̳͎̣͚͋̓ͣͭ̎́c̥̋ͥͤͪ͒̐ͨͫ̊̈́͂o̖̻̼̐̓ͮ̚ń̬̼̟͓͔͚̬͚ͤ͐̃͑̍͛̉̓t͙̪͚̗̤͓̝͓̝̎͌i̘̰̹̎ͪ́ͧ̊͂̈́n̙͙̈́̒͑u̙̭̹̗̹̙̻͓̝͚͍͒̀̈́̇̑̈͑͐͑ͦͫ̔à͕͓̗̲̺̉ͤ̔͗̂̈́̃̉ͬ̓t̤ͭ̊̃ͧͯ̂͌̌̀͒͒i̫̔̉̀̄̍͋̂͒̏̇̑̓o̲̫̪̫̼͖̝̓̎̍̀͒̅ͥ̀n̰̱̩̦̉ͭͬ̅ͤ͆ ̱͍̖̞͙͈̖̲̗͎́͂̿͆͌͊̉ͅͅỉ͚̘̬͕͇̱̋ͯ̏̓͌̀ͪ̆͑ͯn̘͖̭̟̬̻̩͈̹̱͐ͨͩ̑̊̍ͤͥ͐́ͅ ̻̞̤̪̤̗̭͚̹̣ͫͧ͋͊̚r͕͚̓͌̂͋ͅẹ̑͗m̞̫͓̲̋̓̄̽͂ͤ̃ͮͅo̱̝̞̐̈́̌ͬ̑̈́t̥͒̀ͤͥ̏̑̒ͤ̾̒e͖̹̩̹̙̥̗͎̦̙̭̺͆ͭ̀ͦ͆͗ ̹̜̪͉͍̦̾ͯ̎ͣ͆̎ͩ̾d̖͈͚̩̫͔̤͔͚͗ͣͭ̉ͥ̓̅̆͋̄ͥͅr͈͔̳̘͖̙̞̯̄̔͂o̮͕͙̳̰̳̗̭̽̓͋̔ͫ̋̅̾n͕͇͎̖̱͔̤͉̆̃̈͋̽̔ͅë̥̳̝̽̾ͤ.̱̠͉̹͈̦̭̻̠̠̉̉̄͐ͥ̊͆̓ͯ̿̇ ̹̙̫̞ͯͅC̖̰̏́̎ā̞̳̼̭̮̰̣͉̗̲̞̈́̅̈́ͫͤ̊̌n̲͚̈́͌̆̐͊͊ͩ̍̐ͅc͚͋̊͋̋ͥͬͧ̊͋ͧ̊̚ḙ̠̜̯̳̫̖̟ͣͫ̄ͨ̂̀̎̇̈́̍ͬl͈͓̫̬̲͕͓͎̯͇͊̂͒̀͂̎̀l͎̯͎̭̄ͧ͐̈́̒̋͐̓a̯͗ͪͧͧ̓̽͆̀̉ͩt̘̜̹̳̠͙͇͉͉̙̹͐ͣ̌̅ͪ͒̉ͤ̂͒̒͊i͔̣͔͍̥̭͎̯͛̉͐̽̒͊o̱͈ͫ̂͌͛̑̾ͬͭ̏̏ͣn̙͔̺̼͉̩̞̒ͮ̑ͭͩ ̙̫̼̳̙͔̖͍͉͊͊̑ͮ̇̂ͅo̜̠̻̝̠ͯ̏ͬ̂ͧ̾̿̇̐ͯͩͣf̲̳ͧ̊̓̎͆̑̄ͮ͐ͦͤ̋ ̤̯͉̣͈̞̱͓̙̜̾̔̏ͣ̿̀͛̈͗̀n͕̜͙͍͉̙͎̥̟͇̜̤͐́͌ͥ̍̉ͨ̊͗e̺̺͖̣͚̹̼͑͗̅̉ͯg̜̳̲͍̦̥͎̮̠͖̒ͨͥ͋ͅͅa͎̻̫͖̰̤͍̦͇ͦ̃̅̌͛̃̉̄͌͒͗ͫť̮̪̫̪̪̙͖̗̗ͧ́̂ͯ́̾̃ͣ̅ͫͬī̤̪̫͙̞̟̲͂̈̇̾̃̃̀͛̚v̮̭̫̥͈͓̻̲̘͈͇̓͑͗̏ĕ̗̦͈͙ͥ͛̇ͯ̽̓ͮͅ ̣͚͂̌́ͥ̍̐ͯ̈ͭ̈́ͤa̭̹̠̘ͪ̽̇ͮͫt̤̙̠̝̠̳̙͗ͥͨ͋̃̈̌ͯt̼ͪ̍̏ͤ͆̊͛͆̓̉̆r̰̥̮͇̤̬̮̞͉̓ỉ̲̞̭̟̱͇͓̮̝͚̲ͮ͆̇̾̿̓͑ͫͯb̝͎͎ͬu̥̮̦̝̺͚̼͈̞͓̭͉͛̊ͭ̅͂̉ͩ̃͌̊̌t̘̥̯̙̗̰̬̠̮͎̘ͨͧ͒́͐̍é͖͕̰͇̬͎͖̯͔̚s̙͉̠̈́̓̎̈́̉͗̒ͩͪͬ.̹͙̣̣̜͙̥̟̠̺̄͐̿ͪ̌͒̓̚̚ ̤̰̺̤̥̖̜̳̟̺̔̄̾͊̃̂R̜̹̝̤̭̻͉̠̮̐̀ͮ͛ͧ̔̌͌ͤo̓̓ͅu͎͈̥̤̥͖̪͉̳̞̖̠̓ͤͨͦ̒̍͋̋͌̿̆ṫ͎͈̝͙̜͇̝͇̗̱͐͛͐í̖̬̹̩̣n̯̙̩̮͍̭͇̂̽̾͒ͅë̗̫̩̘̮̻͇̠͓ͫ̃̇̀ͤ̓̃ͣ ̠͍̪̠̖̞̗̤ͤ̽̏̈́͗̀̽m̩͆̌̾̓̅̈ͪ̓ͬa̩̫ͥ͛́̄̅͒̆ͫ́̑̍ͅi̖̮̠̱̤̠̮̫͔̥̬̦͌̓ͨͥ̈̓̀n͉̦̹̦͖̗̳̙̿͌̓t̜̹͉̙̲͓̹͎̆͛͗̓̃̎̉ê͖̏̉̍ͫͪ͋͌n̠̘͙̹̥̯̫͖͔̾ͪ̄̚a͚ͣ͒ͩ͂̎̐͌ͤͧ̔̆n̮̜̯͌ͭͪ̈͗ͣ̐ͨ̃c͓̤͍̎͗̈́ͩ̀ͦ̉̊ͦ̋ͩ͂e̱͇͇̝̩͓͎̳̼̙̥̩͑͑̾ ̠̺͕̻̤̠̳͙ͬ́̾̾ͬ̅ͧ̓̒ͅo̖̻̟̪͖͕͕̤̩̯̠̞ͧ̒͋̃̿̒̔͛͌̅̅̚f̖͙͈̟̭̠̘͚̦͖̼̽ͤ́ͩ͋̋ ̱̠̙̺̒ͧ̑̽ͧ̑̀̈́̍p̙̦̝̤̦̰͇̳͑͛͊ͦ̒h̗̺͉͕̹̯̺͗̃͋ͭ̌͗̚y̞̭͇͇̜̖͎͉ͪ̂̽̚ŝ̝͔̉ͨ̎̈́ͩͯ̀̔ỉ̟̘̰̹c͔̮̭͉̦̖̞̦͔͚̳͈ͭ͑͋ͥ̎ͫͣ̀́̏̄ͥă͕̦̭͈͕̯͙̥l̩̪̮̣͙̝͙ͮ̓͋̅̉̏͂́̎͗ ̹ͨͪͣ̌͒͗̒ͫͬ͑̇ṡ͈̫͎̘̪͒͒̋̌̎̔̄t͓̞̞͇̪͕ͧ̎͗̆r̬̳̠ͧ̍ͭȗ͖̻ͩ͑ͤ̅͂͋͌ͤ̈͑ͅc̬̫̥̋t̻̝̺ͤ̅́̓u̯͇̱̠͕̺̍̎̌r̠̒͂͊̎̄é̦̏̓ͩ͑ͦ̉̏ͩͮs͈̯͎͚͎̖̲̫̮̬͔̃ͩ̚.̄́̐͊̇̓̍̆͂ͅ ͇͋̈̆̆ͣͯ͗ͨͯ͋

C͕͔̘ͧ̿̄̂͂̈́̅ͦ̉ͮ͌o̟̗̓̈́ͤ̆͑͂̾n̺̦̮̹̮̫͂ͩ̍͌̇ͥ̿ͦt̩̻̜͕̖͓̜̟̲̣͉͐̀̀̔ͣ̇ḭ͔̹̼ͤͬͭͥ̽̊͐n̪̺̞͙̤̬̭͈̖̻̯̳̋͛̐̓ͮͤͪ͐͆̌̆ǔ̜̘͙͉͙̼́̃̌̑i̬͎̘̮͎̹͍̣̹͎͂́̐̄͒ǹ̟̈̑ͨͦ͑ͧͣ͗̒g͎͔ͬͮ ̗̻̺̼̼͎͚͎͖̘̝̑ͩͦr̙͓̻̟͍͖͉͓̳͕͖͋̓̀͋̑̑e̲͓̰̖͙̎͒͑̎ͤm̜̬̮̫̳̪̩͙̤̦̥͎͗̐ͤ͛ͣ͐o̖͓̝͚̯ͮ̽ͥ͗̿̔ͧ͌ͨͫͫ̐t͖͖̠̭͖̬̹͋͐ḙ̭͕̈̎͂͐̐́̃ͣͩ̉ͅ ̖̠̠̺͛̔ͮ̉ͬ̔ͦ͒͛̽̅̊o̜̬͙̝̤̠̺͙͍̞̜̪͋ͮ̐͂͛̿͊́b͚̹̞̺̯͎̻̪͙͚̲̊ͤ͂ͅs̟̳͙̄̊̍͐͊̐ͥ͊ͥ͋ͤĕ̠̘͓̞̝͈͓͈̖̙͍͖́̃ͣ̉r̬̣̓́͐̚ṿ̉̃̅̂̐́̓ͧ̈́̾a̰ͪͥͥ̊t̼̩̮̫͍̺̝͈͇ͤ͆ͫ̔̃ͣ́̂̇̏i͉̮̙̣̥̫̳͇̔̓̔ò̟̝̞̟͕̲̱̜̲̈́ͩ̚n̲̦̘ͮ͌ͤͪ͌̑͋ͣ̃ͪ͒͂

1.1

Life had a way of finding the worst moment for something to happen.

For Taylor, it was usually when everything had settled into a bland monotony, when she expected it least. Perhaps living in one of the Cape hotspots of the continental USA should have left one constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop.

But life had its ways.

She had just been to another doctor's appointment, as she did every fortnight. All sufferers of the crystalisation did, mandated from on high as part of 'Parahuman Phenomena Research' or something like that. The information on the speed of her own crystalisation and samples went... somewhere, added to countless other data points from other sufferers.

Emma always had her own appointments on Monday evenings after school, Taylor's were on Thursdays.

Another two millimeters of flesh lost.

Apparently the spread would slow for a short while when it reached the top of the legs. Then it would return to its former rate of conversion.

Based on other people who had more progressed forms, that is.

Taylor trudged her way down the street with another chip removed from her shin, and it was only as she reached the halfway point of the block that the first sound of gunshots reached her. She looked up from where her gaze had been resolutely fixed on the pavement.

Up ahead a gang fight raging, well, a gang versus the city's heroes that is.

A familiar pair of red and blue shapes were darting about, Assault and Battery, and men with guns were running away. Bald headed, and in this part of town they must be the Empire.

Somebody else, floating above it all atop a piece of debris.

Rune.

Taylor took her first instinct, spinning on her heel to begin running.

There was no need for her to be here, so she should get as far away as humanly possible. Or just around a corner at the least, out of sight out of mind, right?

Nothing but trouble could possibly come from being near what was going on.

But she wanted to look.

'No, please.' she pleaded.

Not here, not now.

Her feet faltered, it was like her head was full of cotton wool and a thread was pulling on her chin, pulling it to look over her shoulder. She pushed on, trying to get away.

Not far away from a street corner.

A screech of metal and sounds of shouting from behind her. With every sound it was like her body was slowing down, like it wanted her to stop. Her feet were slowing by themselves.

When she finally stopped, Taylor turned more fully in the direction of the fight, eyes wide.

She wanted to see everything, everything possible. She had to.

She had to, but she did not want to.

Calmly, Taylor took a step forward even as a rational part of her mind told her that this was stupid. Beyond stupid.

Her body was fighting. Her breaths were both shallow and straining in panic yet also breathing with a controlled, relaxed manner. Standing right in the middle of the sidewalk, Taylor watched with a blank expression caught between blind panic and keen analysis of all there was to take in.

Battery blurred into motion, easily avoiding one of Rune's telekinetic rocks whilst Assault simply smashed through it.

Energy storage and release for self-limited augmentation. Electromagnetic manipulation?

Kinetic energy redirection limited to self and touched objects

Rune, standing atop a large piece of asphalt and vaguely gesturing, launching a pair of bollards and other pieces of minor municipal objects at the two heroes.

Telekinesis limited to inorganic objects she has made contact with.

Taylor's brain was racing to try and provide explanations even as her internal panic only rose. This was just like those other times, sat at her computer for hours at a time learning all she could about particular Capes.

Taking in everything possible.

Rune was unable to hit the pair of speedsters but they could not get into her range either, whilst Assault had to protect Battery whenever her charge ran out and to give the other an opportunity to regain it.

They made for a good team, both worked together in a manner both practiced and born from experience. The way one would take the lead only for the other to cover their back, in constant communication with one another. It was fascinating to watch, like art--

Something smashed into her leg.

Taylor felt the sensation, the force of something colliding with the limb, a 'crunch' that resonated all the way up her body.

It should hurt.

Something like that should really hurt, shouldn't it? But she felt nothing. The strange hypnotic spell over her was broken and she looked down.

Something was poking out of her jeans a piece of concrete, a shard that had pierced straight through the fabric and then into her leg.

Unnoticed by her, the fight resumed and came to a close, Rune fleeing and the other members of the Empire doing the same.

Taylor was too busy staring at the piece of literal stone poking out of her leg to really take notice of her surroundings. Without the overwhelming need to watch the Heroes and Villain fight panic had taken hold instead.

What was she even doing here?

"Miss, are you okay?"

It was Battery, approaching her.

"No, I mean, I'm fine," Taylor fumbled.

Oh man, a hero was noticing her and she was on the verge of a panic attack! People were taking notice as well, plenty of those who had hidden away at the first sign of a cape fight were poking their heads out of windows or glancing towards them.

Then, Battery looked down at Taylor's leg and the piece of concrete sticking out of it.

"Jesus alright, you're not okay, we need to get you seen to, c'mon."

"No I-I want to go home."

And now she sounded like a child.

"Please miss, you need to be checked over, you were very close to the fight." The blue clad hero was trying to calm her down, was she wondering just what happened to her? Did she think that Taylor must have frozen with panic like a rabbit or deer caught in the proverbial headlights of a car?

"Somebody will be here soon, c'mon, breathe deeply, do you want to sit down for a bit? Being close to something like this is always rough."

It was not being close to the fight, it was the lack of control.

"I-I'm not hurt."

"I saw you get hit, it's okay, it is probably the adrenaline stopping you from feeling it yet," Battery explained slowly even as she looked Taylor up and down. "You don't seem to be bleeding so it can't have gone too deep but something might have chipped or fractured something even if its not a clean break. Here," Battery coaxed her over to sit down and, with none to gentle pressure, to lean and breathe more deeply.

In pretty much any other circumstance, Taylor would be happy to comply.

Assault and Battery, hometown heroes and practically household names in Brockton Bay?

Right now she couldn't help but feel that she was in their way.

It was just a glancing blow to her leg, and it was not like she could feel pain there.

As Battery spoke to Taylor, Assault was calling in to report.

"--only one civilian hurt, froze up in fear and got hit but some debris, can we get somebody to look at her?" A momentary pause. "Okay, if she is near then if we can have her dropped off on the way, that would be appreciated."

A minute later somebody landed not far away and in a manner much practiced over years of having to fly from location to location. In their arms was another figure, one recognisable not just in Brockton Bay but the entire world.

"Do I have permission to heal you?"

Taylor looked up to see the face of Amy Dallon, Panacea.

"I am not hurt."

The healer looked unimpressed by the statement, glancing towards the two Protectorate Heroes with a 'are you serious?' expression.

"Lets see your leg then miss, seeing as that's where the concrete hit." The comment from Battery had Taylor flushing. Why did nobody seem to believe her?

Taylor lifted the trouser leg, revealing the crystal underneath. Long jagged cracks ran through the material, radiating outwards from the piece of stone or concrete that had impacted the site, and was still there, impaled just to the side of the bone clearly visible and running through the mass.

Taylor heard the gasp from Battery.

"..."

"Like I said, I'm not hurt." Her protest came out a lot weaker now.

"Well, I cannot heal crystal but if nothing else you need that concrete out. Assault, can you pull it?" the red clad Hero paused a moment.

"Won't I get infected?"

That comment had Taylor hang her head.

"I'm not infectious... nobody with crystalisation is." A comment that she had had to make so many times before. 'It's okay, touching me won't make you crystalise as well.' Enough people had acted as if she was some sort of leper who would bring doom and pestilence upon them and their family.

"Right." Was he saying that with more cheer than he felt?

Reaching down the hero pulled and tore out the piece of concrete, leaving an inch deep crater in her leg. Even as she was watching some of the finer hairline cracks radiating out from the injury starting to seal up, it was slow going but the self-repairing properties of the crystal were known.

"It will heal, it's okay, and it doesn't hurt." Why was she the one trying to give comfort to the Heroes?

"Guess I am not needed here, then," Panacea said. Was she irritated at having been called out when she could be saving other lives? Taylor couldn't tell, instead she focused on pulling down the hem of her trouser, hiding away the damaged limb.

Panacea gave her a pat on the hand and paused, frowning.

"I-I'll just... get going," Taylor announced, pushing herself up. Panacea retracted her hand, looking at her neutrally as she did so.

Taylor could not hurry away fast enough.

"She is a Cape."

A look between the blue and red Protectorate Heroes, taken by surprise at the healers blunt statement. Panacea watched the strange girl left, disappearing down the street.

"Are you not supposed to reveal that Amy?" Glory Girl asked, brows furrowing.

"She has Oort-Spider Crystalisation and I've never seen fractures heal that quickly in one."

"And?"

"People with crystalisation do not trigger. Even if they have a Corona Pollentia it just goes... wrong... and already triggered capes react strangely. So either she triggered before she was infected or she's some sort of strange abnormality," Panacea explained. "She has to be reported, like, it's a legal requirement, like Simurgh victims."

"Did you get her name?"

The long silence said enough

"Console, we have an issue."

1.2

Homework was tedious.

Calculating the square root of a number was easy, doing it ten times to prove that the first was not a fluke was unnecessary.

Physics came far more easily to Taylor than most, what had once been a subject of niche interest at best to her had grown steadily into her favorite, that and Parahuman Studies. For the last few years school had been an escape, a distraction from thoughts about her past, future and what little it might bring. Better to live in the everyday rather than let the existential worries gnaw away at her.

School also meant more time with Emma as well, her only real friend... even if Emma did not seem to like coming over to her home much anymore, it was usually she who went over to the Barne's house instead.

The redhead said it was all the images of stars and galaxies all over Taylors room. Beside her bed was a large, blown up image of the Wolf-Rayet Star WR-124, her ceiling was decorated with little sticky-back glow in the dark stars arranged in the form of constellations. When she had assembled all the ones visible in the northern hemisphere she stuck lines between them to make them clearer.

After that she added more and more and more. Her room was a near accurate map of the heavens now.

Taylor thought it was beautiful. And familiar, as well. Emma disagreed.

But it was hard to see the stars in Brockton Bay after all.

"Letter, Taylor!"

The shout broke Taylor from her focus, she looked up from her homework towards the door of her room.

A letter?

Oh.

Probably the results from her recent doctor's visit, no doubt the usual 'we are writing to confirm that your condition continues to progress.' A waste of paper and plastic that she nevertheless continued to receive despite suggesting that it had no point.

By the time she had gotten downstairs to investigate the offending envelope her father had already left the room. She could hear him though, and for a moment she stood there and listened in as he did so.

She knew the routine by now; he would go into the sitting room first and look out the window, glancing to see what was going on outside but without any real passion. Then he would sit down to look over various bits of paper from the Dock Workers Union, he would grow stressed and perhaps break out a beer about halfway through and somehow come away from it all with a renewed determination to do right by the Union whilst utterly ignoring his own needs.

How could she help break him out of his funk?

Ever since her mother died it had been like this, this strange sort of tense companionship between the two of them.

Taylor looked away from the direction of the sitting room, instead moving to the table where a solitary letter sat in its own pile.

The logo on it was not the normal rod of Asclepius, instead it was a shield with the letters P.R.T. on it.

What?

Taking it up Taylor looked over the thin envelope before opening it, retrieving the letter inside and reading it over.

Dear Miss Hebert,

During a recent incident involving members of the Brockton Bay PRT and Protectorate members you were recorded as a casualty of the conflict and having received healing from Panacea during the course of the follow up. Due to the nature of your condition the PRT must request that you make yourself available for a brief meeting at Brockton Bay PRT Headquarters, Lord Street, to discuss this matter.

Please organise an appointment by calling the number at the head of this letter.

Thank you for your time.

The Office of Agent Coleson, PRT Brockton Bay.

Click to expand...

There must have been some confusion, or a misunderstanding perhaps? Surely the PRT had had Panacea attempt to heal people like her before? After the first and only attempt by the Protectorate to combat the Oort-Spider the casualties had been immense, proportionally higher even than against Behemoth or the Slaughterhouse Nine. The only thing stopping the Spider from being considered an Endbringer was the fact it did not move from its position, it did not attack cities.

Surely of the three or so Capes that escaped alongside the Triumvirate, and whom had contracted the Crystalisation, had been attended to by Panacea? Hell, the world famous healer herself admitted just a few days ago that there was nothing she could do for Taylor.

'Due to the nature of your condition.'

What did that even mean? Oh, she knew exactly objectively, but what did that matter?

Assault pulled a piece of concrete from her leg, and it had taken a day for the damage to heal up. All Taylor did was stand there like an idiot when she should have been high-tailing it as quickly as she could, and she got injured as a result of... of...

Taylor swallowed thickly.

She did not like to think about the strange lack of control she experienced, the inability to look away or even move somewhere safer.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Taylor?" He sounded tired.

"I need to go to the PRT soon."

A pause.

"Why?"

"I... it's about what happened the other day, apparently they want to ask me a few questions, it's something to do with my condition."

Silence.

Her father did not like to be reminded of her disease, it was part of the reason why Taylor always wore trousers, to avoid reminding him of the fact she was sick. When she explained what occurred the previous day he did not even want to see her injury to check that she was okay, he just asked to make sure she was okay and left it there.

"Alright, do you need me to drop you off?"

"You need to come in with me, I need an adult it seems."

"Okay, when?

"I need to make an appointment," Taylor replied. "Are you free the rest of today and tomorrow?"

He was. Taylor made the call and organised the appointment. The man on the other side sounded dead inside, the exchange was brief. Eleven the next day.

Well, if nothing else it would break up her father's routine from its normal drudgery. Now she just needed to try and think of a way to pull him out of it permanently.

The PRT Headquarters was a location that both did, and did not, inspire confidence in Taylor.

The glass frontage was pretty... the fact that each window was barred and the building looked to be a cross between a governmental building and a fortress implied that it was a safe place to be, but also implied that there was a drastically increased chance of something going very wrong here. In a city with literal superpowered Nazis and the rage Dragon, being near a place that required such levels of protection rather implied that she was at risk just standing outside it.

"Ready, Taylor?" her father asked from beside her. He looked at the front of the building in much the same way he did.

"Yeah... hopefully it will be pretty quick."

Stepping through into the lobby, Taylor glanced around.

She had been here before when she was younger, when she was just an innocent, wide eyed child who hoped to see a hero and buy any Alexandria themed merchandise from the gift shop. She remembered them selling all sorts of things, she still had a Miss Militia holofoil trading card somewhere in her room, probably in one of the desk drawers. Maybe later she could take a look around the shop and see if there was anything she wanted?

... Wait, were those Armsmaster underwear?

Taylor resolutely decided not to think about that.

Approaching the desks at the front of the lobby, the two of them waited patiently for the man behind the desk to notice her. When he did she gave something of a lame wave whilst her father hung back.

"Hello... um, I was asked to come and speak with you guys, I called and was told to come in at eleven."

Taylor raised the letter that had been sent as if in proof of her claim. The man simply took it, looked it over and then began consulting the monitor.

"Okay, you are in with Agent Coleson in interview room three. Are you Miss Hebert's parent or guardian sir?"

"Father, yes."

"Alright, take the door on the left and then it will be on the right two doors down. If you need the bathroom it's on the right before you get there," rapidfire typing ensues. "I'll let him know you are here."

"Um, thanks."

Not imposing at all.

The two of them made their way to the appointed room, a lonely, windowless cube of white and blue walls with overly bright fluorescent lights in the ceiling. There was a table with cheap, glossy black chairs either side, and after a few seconds Taylor took a seat. A clock was ticking loudly from its position above the door, the second hand jerking from tick to tick and for a few moments she watched it, then focused on the table.

Putting one leg under the other, Taylor drummed her fingers against it nervously. Her father had remained standing a few seconds longer, before making himself comfortable as well, sitting with posture more relaxed but face serious. This was his sort of meeting, wasn't it? For years he had been sitting in on things sort of like this, conversations about securing funding, interviews and even speaking with the mayor. Despite the distance between them he knew what he was doing. She had to hope so, atleast.

How long would this take? Was she in some sort of trouble? It was stupid for her to just stand there during the cape fight but she couldn't stop herself, was this some sort of psych evaluation, to determine if she had some sort of issue that would cause her to put herself at risk?

Some people were mad and actively wanted to get close to Cape fights, is that what the PRT thought that she was?

After some time the door opened and Taylor jerked to attention.

The man who entered was tall with sharp blue eyes, his suit was crisp and the ID hanging from his neck bounced off his chest. He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Hello, I am Agent Coleson. You are Miss Hebert I presume?"

"Yes, oh, and this is my dad."

"Pleasure to meet you both." He extended a hand with a number of small, healed scars visible. Awkwardly Taylor shook it, her father had a far more natural response and took it to shake easily.

"Thank you for calling so promptly, I hate having to send reminders out when they ignore the first letter," he said as he took a seat and set down a thin wad of papers on the table, the top page facing him.

"O-Oh, sorry, I mean, that's good."

Oh god she was fumbling her words.

"Firstly, please let me say that you are not in any form of trouble, this is purely a routine conversation that the PRT sometimes performs with people who have been close to Cape fights and have been noted down as casualties. Anything discussed in this room is confidential and any referenced documents have been made available to myself purely as part of this meeting."

"Yes sir."

"We identified you by comparing CCTV footage from the scene with records we had to hand, so firstly please would you confirm that you are Taylor Anne Hebert, and that you were present on the 17th during a skirmish between members of the Protectorate and the Empire Eighty-Eight."

"Yes. I mean, yes to both."

A note was made on the paper, a box filled out swiftly with her name.

"Do you mind if I see that document briefly?"

"If you would like to Mr. Hebert. It is a standard PRT post-casualty incident recording form with an attached section for further questions at the back, which has had to be prepared with some question regarding your daughters condition. I am afraid that that part is non-standard."

"If it is non-standard why is it included?"

"There are not many people with Oort-Spider Crystalisation in the world Mr. Hebert, and very few of them are going to be asked the questions the PRT would like to ask your daughter."

Her father did not look happy, but nodded, and Colesone continued.

"Unlike most civilians you did not run when the fight broke out miss Hebert. This was put down as a freeze response in the official report by Battery because you appeared to suffer a minor panic attack when approached afterwards. Is that quite correct?"

"Y-Yes, I just... couldn't move and afterwards I panicked, yes."

To his credit, the man did not look surprised, there was no judgment or severe statement of 'well that was stupid, you should have cleared the site as soon as possible' that she had been expecting. Instead, like any good bureaucrat he simply plowed on to the next question.

"During this period Battery noticed that you had been injured, with Panacea arriving soon after having been already enroute to the city hospital. At which point Assault was required to remove a piece of debris from your leg, correct?"

A nod, another note made and a box ticked.

"According to your medical records you contracted Oort-Spider Crystalisation Disease after an encounter with the Oort-Spider when it landed in the national park to the west of Brockton Bay. Since then the disease has had a standard but abnormally slow prognosis." Taylor swallowed a lump in her throat at the clinical description, beside her her father had looked away. "The debris removed from your leg was embedded in crystalised tissue, yes?"

"Yes, um, that is correct."

"And what is the condition of your leg now?"

"It's... fine."

"Fine?" Coleson has set his pen down and leant forward, watching her intently. He seemed far more interested now, unlike the previous questions in which he was simply going through the motions.

"Yeah, all normal, um... healed up.

"Back to normal then?"

"Yes. No more cracks and the, err, the hole left by the concrete has filled in as well," Taylor fumbled.

Coleson nodded.

"On average, suffers of Oort-Spider Crystalisation disease see infection progress in terms of centimeters or even inches a fortnight, you have been flagged as anomalous in your medical reports, a factor that was put down as an outlier until recently."

A pregnant pause followed as the man stared at her, waiting for her to ask. Was this standard practice in an interview? He had access to all her records, what was even going on here?

Taylor bit her lip.

"Until recently?" It was her father who asked the question.

"As part of her capacity as a healer Panacea has the ability to rapidly check the health of individuals, and during her interaction with you she noticed that you have an active Corona Pollentia." Taylors heart jumped into her throat as Coleson continued. "In case you didn't know, the Corona Pollentia is the organ that facilitates Parahuman abilities, and whilst presence does not indicate activity Panacea indicated that yours was active."

One could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.

"But I'm not a Parahuman."

The agent's smile was patient.

"According to Panacea, you are. If I may, please could you think back to any incident within the past few years during which you experienced a traumatic event and possibly blacked out?" he asked, tone going from professional to something softer.

Taylor glanced away.

"Is that quite neccessary?" her father asked.

"Unfortunately such moments are usually traumatic, but can give insight into the nature of a persons powers I am afraid Mr. Hebert."

"... Well, when the Spider crashed my friend and I were close to it, I saw it... I don't really know, I don't remember it well, but I remember blacking out. My friend carried me to safety and I woke up later." It was all still a blur, almost two years later.

Coleson was writing something, and when Taylor had finished speaking he continued to do so for a minute afterwards. Not that she minded, it gave her the opportunity to think. Her, a Parahuman? Impossible. She didn't have any powers, she could not fire lasers or fly or anything like that, nothing interesting about her apart from her history as a Oort-Spider survivor.

"And you have never displayed any powers before?"

"Not that I can think of."

"No unusual circumstances occurring with or around you?" he looked between the two of them.

"No." Her fathers response was instant.

Well. The strange dissociative periods when she would become hyper-focused on Parahuman related matters, the cold and clinical analysis with words coming to mind. The times when she would get hurt and then the injuries would seem to just get better,

"Miss Hebert?"

"Ah, sorry," she shook her head, as if to physically dispel the thoughts. Coleson was staring at her unblinkingly, the room felt a lot more stifling all of a sudden. "Well, a few times I have hurt myself but then I get better quickly, and I only seem to get colds for about a day or so before I get better," she said lamely.

"I see." Another note. "Would you consent to power testing so that we can confirm whether or not you have powers, Miss Hebert?"

"Um..." she looked to her side, to her father. The man face was blank, his eyes were present in the moment but she could see that his mind was racing. What was he wondering about? Then, he looked at her.

"It's up to you Taylor."

"Okay... I would like to know, so yes please I'll go through power testing."

What was this faintly hopeful little flicker she felt?

1.3

The power testing was weird, frankly. Especially when one could not simply display a power openly or give the people organising the tests something to work with.

Some of it was unpleasant as well, wearing the blank mask had her breath tickling her face for one.

A hammer strike against the leg had her gritting her teeth at the sensation, especially when it took four attempts to put a dent in the crystal let alone the cracks that they were looking for. She sat awkwardly in the brief period of respite as they all crowded around to observe the way it healed up. That caused a lot of excitement for some reason, as did when, with great care, a doctor asked to cut her forearm to observe that as well.

Her father really did not like that part, acerbically asking whether the scalpel was neccessary and glowering down the offending doctor. In the end, a small cut no deeper then a papercut was allowed... on sufferance.

It closed up very quickly.

Was it really that unusual?

How fast were people meant to heal from injuries? She got hurt a few times as a kid, but she was young. She had never experienced anything too major, apart from the car crash that claimed her mother's life, and even then she came out mostly unscathed. But that was a car crash, the little nicks and cuts of everyday life were nothing like that.

Even if the crystal was repairing itself faster than normal and her arm stopped bleeding quickly surely that didn't actually mean anything right?

The physical tests for strength and endurance proved little as well, Taylor was a skinny girl who, whilst not unfit, was not exactly track team material.

Was she disappointing the testing team?

"If you do not mind, we would like to observe what happens when Parahumans use their powers on you?" was the latest request from one of the technicians, looking over a monitor in which they were inputting the proceeds of the tests.

"If you are about to suggest Miss Militia then this process is over," her father said.

That earned some amused laughter from the team.

"No no, don't worry we are not bringing out the big guns," that pun got a tap to the head with a clipboard from his superior, even as she smiled, bemused.

When the door opened to admit whoever it was who would be helping Taylor turned to see. Maybe Vista? She had always admired the youngest ward and the versatility of her power... and also she was cute, in a little sibling sort of way where you want to squeeze their cheeks, Not that she would dare to say so to the Heroes face. Or perhaps Armsmaster with some cool piece of tinkertech that would provide all sorts of strange readings about her supposed power--

The person who stepped through was Clockblocker, a Ward with the power to stop time for a period of time, famous for how he got his name during his first reveal to the press.

Well... there were worse Wards to meet.

Taylor's eyes moved to him the moment he entered the room and for a few moments she struggled to look away as he walked his way up to the small group that consists of the power testers and herself.

"Hey there! Heard you are in for the ol' Clockblocker special?"

Oh god, he was far too enthusiastic.

"Something like that," Taylor shrugged. He nodded, thinking for a moment.

"What is your power? You are the one who stops time, yes?" Danny demanded.

"Um, yes that's right sir, anywhere between a few seconds and a few minutes." Evidently being confronted by an irritable, defensive father was not what the Ward had been expecting. Taylor was glad for the mask hiding her expression as a few more questions ensued before he was happy to allow the testing to continue.

"Okay, the best way to do this is probably if I hold your hand or something and you jump, going to be a bit awkward for me holding your hand for minutes but eh," she could practically hear his resignation to the fact already.

"Sure," she felt like a complete idiot taking the offered hand and then, after a moment jumping as high as she could--

P̳̭̯͇̥͔͍ͣ̀ͮ͌̑ͮā̤̬̯̮͖̭̫͔ͮͩͬ̌̀̓ͥͅr̤̜̩ͥã͈͍̤͉͔̜̦̼͔̤̔ͥ̽ͅd̰̞̜̗͇̖̝͆́̑o̦͔̭̩͈̣̻͈̩̳̮͐̍̄ͭͫ̓x͕͉͉̪̬̩͚̪̯̦̥ͤ̃͆̐ͫͬ͗ ̮̯̺̳͉̯͓͕͙͕̲̓C̭͍̟͔̪̪̗̘̳͉̭ͭ̅̿̃̔ạ͇̣̝̗̰̦̪̦͗̂̍̈ͯ̋̔ͧͪ̂̋̚ͅn̪̥̰̠͎̩̬͆̎̔ͧͤ̓ͥͯ͊ͬc̞̲̪̫̘̭̱̩̬̟͙̙̓ḙ͉̜̹̹̞̪͔̐̊̀̋̈́ͪ͌̒̋l̼̘̫̙͖̓̆͒ͧͪͣͨ͊̿͊̅̓ͅl̥͖̯̫͇̲͍͂̇̇͌̆a̹͉͆t͎͕͎̝̬̙̃́̓͆͗̿̊̆̔͒ͩ̃ͅi̙̙͇̰̰̞̐́͑ͩ̏ͯ̋͐̃ọ̪͓̉̽ͬͨͯň͍͈̣̘͎̎ͯ:̝̣̙̺̥̱͇̳͙̈́͑ͮ̂̍̾̉ͯͨͩ͂̐ ͉̻̬̻̲̝̯̯̗̩͂͆ͤ͋̎̈ͯl̼͖̲̳͔̠̠̲͎̩ͨͅi͇͍͂̑̂͋m͇̻͖̪͇͓̭͈̱̆́̒͋̾̾̌ͩ̔i̯̻͉̹̩̖̩ͨ͌̅ͦ̈̄̏͗ͤ͊ͯt̻̣͓̞͎̙̖ͭ̿͊ͬ̐̂e̯ͩ̃̋d̠̬͈͇̯̺̫͍͉̹̋̓͑ͣ͊͐̑ͮ̇̚ͅ-̠̣̦ͧ̎͊͒̔d͈̘̞͈̯͙͊ͮ̒u͉͎̼͔̜͙͉͋ͅr̭̪̓ͧ̉̎a͓̺͈͌ͦͩt̝̯̭̬̝͚͚͇̿̀̃̉͆̐̿ͅi̻̦ͬo̬͕̜̦͕̩̰̎ͪ̂ͭ͗ͨ̆̊͗̓̇ͯn̯̜̰̰͍ͫ̑ͨͭ ͇͚̼͙͔͇̯̜̑̄̽͗ͅt̥̰̩̻͕̘͔̒̓ͤi̥̱̺͚͉ͯ̾̿̓̿ͪ͆̚m̗̗͉͖̹͈͍̟̬̣̾͑͑́̒͂̍̾́̋e͍̠͍̼̱ͭ͆ͥͥͨ ̠̦̺̼̐s͍̠̱̱͔̠̰͎̳̼͉̬ͦͬ̓̋ͬ́̓́ͭ̿̍ͨt̗̦̣̦͕̹̮̓̌ͪͣͯ̔̀̾͒̇͌̾õ̘̠̂ͤp̝̻͚̤̃̌̔̾͑ͬ͒̋ ̼̫̪̮͙͇̲̜͍͉̜̆̎̽̊ͥ̋̚r̫̮̽̒͐e͖̩ͫ̚s̬ͯͦͩ̅ͨ̈́̎̇ͨͫ̌t͕̞̫̤̥̳̩̱͒r͎̝̬̰̳͇̝̮ͤ̂ͥi̘̯̮͎̺̣͈̭̘͌̀̈͊͆̆̇ͥͤ̉c̪̟ͧ̓̈́ͭ̊ͧť̫̩̮̫̤̞̣͈̪̼ͅe̹̤̥̜ͭ̈́͒̈́ͯ̚ď̻̖̜̹̗̩̠̜͎̭̜͋̒́ͪ̇ͫ̇ ̲͈͉̦̮̞͔ͪ͆ͅt̰̳̫̰͖͓͛ͤ̃̄̒́͗̊͒ͭ̈́o̭̣̼̯̫͖͌̈̎̿̆ͅ ̼̜̤̏̾ͧ͒ͫ͒̒͂̾ͦͫ͒t͕̊̆̆͛̑̎̉͒̚o̗̙̖͍̊̃͆̂̆̑̓̏͑t͚̪ͪ̏̈͊͆a̙̤̥͍͔̤͍͚̰̟̫̍͌̈̚l̳̣̻̬͙̊̌͒̅ͮǐ̟̫̮͎̫̖̮͎̬̼̃ͫ͊͛̉̒̿ͩͨ̐t͔̰͕̭̭̀ͤͩ̊ͦ̾ͯ̽͆y̪̖̘̖̲̼̦͕̜̝͓͂͒ ͍͖̓ͨ͗ͫ͆̌̃͊o͈̥̹̰̝͈͌̈́f̪̱̞̔͗͊ͭ̿ͪͧͨͫ ̫̰̫̪̜̘̦̟̠̥̍̈̔ͪ͑ͪ̿͆͑̐̊̉a̹͉̝̮̣̬͍ͣ̅ͫ̊ͯf͚̞̹̌̄ͫf̻̤̼͓͚̫͚̬̖̬͙̞ͪ̏̏͒́ͨͧͯ̿̐e̮̟̰͓̬͉̜̎ͫ͗ͣͨc͖̯͙̖͓̳̮̻̟ͨ̾̇̊t͚̖̥̻͆̃̽̄̀͂̑̚e̹͕̝̬̰̺̩͓ͩ̆ͭ̾̿͑͒̇ͅd̼ͥͯ̓̀ ͉̞̩̹̗̰͖͔̝̖̑̑ͭ̀͛̍ͪͩͅm͕̦̝͕͙͉̲̥̤̲͕͊ͭ́̉ͧ̌̈͛͗͐̉ͪa̺͓̤͉͚̜͓̠̺͕͉͑̋͆̿̉̇̊̈́̊͊ͦ͊ͅs͎͉̜̫̻̿ͭ̾̌̿͂̍ͣ̎͆̚s̲̥̳͖͈͙̺ͮ͋̂̋̀̒̃ͣ

Landing back on the floor, Taylor blinked and looked up from her hand at the Ward.

"Did you do it?" she asked.

The pause was deafening.

"I used my power on you but it barely lasted a second," his voice sounded surprised as he stared down at his hand as if to confirm that he was holding hers, and then back up at her. "You blocked my clockblock!"

"... What?"

The hammering of finger's against keypads resumed, somebody was writing something down on a paper copy. The woman taking charge of the power testing stepped forward as if to get a better look at the two teenagers awkwardly holding hands in the centre of the room.

"Clockblocker, please would you attempt to use your power again."

The Ward once more focused on Taylor, who had to jump again, and again nothing happened.

"It's not working!"

"Please explain."

"I cannot even get my power to work on her anymore, it's like it doesn't even recognise that she is something I can affect, like if I tried to stop a building or a train."

Should she be offended by being compared to a large locomotive?

The statement, rather than being met with disappointment earned elation from the testers, and Taylor seriously began to wonder whether they were collectively insane.

When all was said and done, the testing took around four hours.

Four long, long hours.

Taylor and her father sat again in the interview room, this one was a bit fancier than the one of the ground floor, and even had a number of pamphlets laid out for her to peruse. The one titled 'so now you have powers' was rather inane but entertaining to read, laid out in the manner of a child friendly cartoon discussing the matter. It rather glossed over some of the more troubling aspects of it all... for instance the matters of legal status, society's expectations and the danger's inherant to having powers.

Danny Hebert had been quiet for a while, leaning on hands, elbows on the table deep in thought.

She wanted to say something... but the words would not come. What sort of thing was she supposed to say in this circumstance? Was she supposed to seem excited about the prospect of having powers? Or was she supposed to be dour, considering the great responsibility that many people would now view her as having?

So instead, she read the pamphlets, even if she was unsure how much of the information she was taking in. When the door opened she at once made to sit up as somebody new entered the room

Miss Militia.

A childhood part of her squee'd.

"Hello there, I hope you have not been waiting too long?"

"It's okay!"

Her father simply nodded.

"Now, the guys in power testing gave you a provisional name of 'Annul', which I hope you will not mind me using whilst we talk?"

Well, there were worse titles, Taylor reflected. She shook her head.

"I am here to do your debrief, it would have been Armsmaster but he has been called away by his other duties, hopefully I am not too bad a replacement?"

"No, not at all!"

Her eyes smiled. How did she do that? When in books people wrote of a person smiling with her eyes, Taylor had always disregarded such a thing. But Miss Militia demonstrated that some people could really make that old adage real.

The Cape sat down opposite them.

"Now then, to go over your results," she briefly glanced down to check the papers she had brought in with her. "The guys in testing suspect that you have some sort of Trump ability that nullifies powers that have already affected you before, and a minor Brute rating that gives you a low level of regeneration. They were considering a higher Trump rating as well until they confirmed that Clockblocker could still use his power after it stopped working for you."

Taylor nodded slowly.

She felt out of sorts, like this conversation was taking place with somebody else.

"The Brute rating is probably the reason why your disease is so slow in progression compared to other people. Normally powers react incredibly badly with the crystallisation, you are a very lucky girl."

There it was again, the idea that she was lucky.

What did Miss Militia think? She was telling a teenager that her slow, incurable disease was more slow and drawn out than other sufferers, but at the same time, atleast Taylor would have a better chance at living a full life.

"For now, and until a more official rating can be given by Protectorate thinkers, you have been designated as Trump 2, Brute 1."

Hardly high ratings, but then again Taylor struggled to believe that she was even a cape.

Here, Miss Militia set down the paper that she had been holding and referring to for notes.

"I hope you do not mind me asking Taylor," she began again, gently, "but have you considered joining the Wards?"

Taylor could feel her father tense up slightly beside her, his mouth opened a moment and then he closed it as he glanced to her.

"I... don't know. I don't really have a useful power at all."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, adaptive Brute powers can be especially useful in all sorts of scenarios. There was actually some speculation about whether you could act as a counter to some persistent shaker effects actually," Miss Militia admitted.

The term adaptive brute brought Crawler to mind, and even thinking of herself as similar to the Slaughterhouse Nine's pet monstrosity was enough to sour her thoughts.

But...

"What do you mean by the shaker part?"

"Well, whilst most Shaker effects are limited in duration or based on the attention of the Parahuman, some remain after the fact. There is every possibility that your power could end troublesome powers left in place across America."

"I do not want my daughter near dangerous situations." Beside her, Danny sounded quite certain on that fact.

Taylor looked aside. Her life had been so safe in many ways, yet death and trouble had always managed to find her anyway. A perfectly normal drive became a life or death situation, a trip to summer camp became an alien hellscape with a living nightmare at its centre. Was all that why her father was so protective? He had been distant for so long and now he was at once so involved in making decisions with and about her, was that normal? Some small part of her at once said yes, it was natural, another said no.

What would Emma say? There was no way Taylor would be unable to tell her about it, she would have to, as her best friend.

But if she was with the Wards, her life would be forced to escape its current drudgery, the slow spiral towards the grave, and earning some money to maybe go to college or help around the house would be nice, as would being able to spend so much time around Heroes, learn all about them--

̱̣͉̤͙̤͖͌̃̓D̙̣̻̟̳̖̝̩͈ͮ̌̊̓́ͬi̤̰͖̰̙̝̺͎̎̈ͦ̌̚ͅr͎̠̭̺̩̘̱͒ͯ̊ͧ̽̽ͦͤe̪̫̱͙͉̭̙̐̈́̓ͮ͆̓ͭ͛ͪ̇ͦc̟͎̣̭̹͎̟͉̤̍̊̌͗ͣt̖̦̬͔ͬ̒ͬͫͥ̿̑̓ͬ̃i̭̘̹̺̩̳̞͓̺̖͂́͌͊͋̒̾͂ͤ̈̂ͧv̜͚̲̮̙ͣͮͥ͑ͧ͋͒̏ͥͩ̃ͅe͓̦̗̻̰͙̝̰̣̲̰̱ͨͭ͛ͥͣ̋ͫͥ̂:̲͓͇̯̙̟̻̳̹̐̅͊̿ͨ́ ̫̺̱͈̹̽͂̆A̻̫̞͎̺̺͙̯͎̮̥͖̋̈́ͫ͂͌̄͌̓ͦ̏͗g̲̬̫͇͂ͥ̑̿̓͛̄͋̄̎ͩͯṙ͇̠̗̪̻̘̮̙̩͉̏̽̇͆̉̽͐ͅe̼̤͕͔͍̎́̇ͨ̌͑ͦ̅̊ē͍̖̮͉̗͚̭̮͔͖̍ͪͅm̞̬̦̙̳̲ͬȇ̼̥͓̖̱̻͈̓̐ͨ͗̒ͧ͐̉̇n̩̝͚̦̩̰̞̯͓̠̭̲͆̿͒̊ͦ̓̆ͮ̏͆͗t͔͓̼̼̩̜͕̤͙̜̯͂̋̐̽̎ͅ

"I would like to join the Wards!" Taylor blurted out, suddenly, voicing her thoughts even as a thrill of excitement ran down her spine, her exclamation cutting off the conversation going on between Miss Militia and her father.

Her, a Ward!

The sudden resolution had come from nowhere, she struggled to believe she had said it.

Taylor Hebert, hero.

1.4

Her father was not speaking.

Past the window to her side downtown Brockton Bay was going past, a blur until the moment she focused on it. The air was thick with tension that she was not quite sure how to dissipate, it had been like this since her outburst in the interview room.

They pulled up at some lights.

His eyes were focused on the road ahead, he had always been a careful driver but after her mother's death he had become a slow, steady and most of all, paranoid driver, constantly checking mirrors and sides as if just waiting to leap into action. It made her nervous.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the bright white of her fathers' knuckles.

Was he angry at her?

"Taylor..." he said, then stopped himself. Was he angry or not? Or was it worry that made his voice come out choked. Taylor hunched on herself as he looked away from the road for just a moment to focus on her. "Are you sure about this?"

Was she?

In the moment she had felt so certain, even now she did. She had to join the Ward's; it was concrete in her mind.

But why? Was it just the expectation that she put her powers to good use that drove her to say what she did, irrespective of what her father may think? Maybe it was societal expectations, that she contribute towards the safety of others as a Hero...

Or her own childhood dream of being one coming to the fore.

"The Brute rating is probably the reason why your disease is so slow in progression compared to other people."

She had more time than other people like her.

But...

If she became a Ward, perhaps she could do more with her life as a low ranking, low powered Hero then just as a normal person? But how could she admit that to her father, that the constant, faint ache in her legs gave her a constant awareness of her own mortality as it crept upwards day by day. Would he understand the desire, the need to do something with the time she had?

There were so many things she wanted to say, to express to him. She loved him. He had not been there for her like he should have been. She had not been there for him like she should have been. Was he disappointed in her? What did he want from her?

What could she do to cross this distance?

She just could not think of how to ask. When did words become hard with him?

"I am."

Maybe if she said it with enough conviction, he would drop it there?

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, all the way until they pulled into the drive. He gave her a small pat on the hand and a look she could not interpret before he got out the car.

A brush running through her hair.

Emma was saying something.

"So yeah, Madison thinks that maybe having a house party would be fun at her's, she's in a nice enough neighbourhood and knows a couple of people from Immaculata and Arcadia, could be a really fun night. I know it's not so much of your scene Taylor but you should totally give it a go."

She needed this.

Emma, babbling away and filling the room with conversation, Taylor able to bask in her friend's presence.

Her head still spun somewhat at the conversation from earlier in the day. She was a Cape, she had provisional ratings for powers, she never even imagined that she would ever get powers. Perhaps on some distant level she had imagined what it may be like, but the chance of it happening was so rare, not something somebody as plain and boring as her would get.

She was still reeling from it all.

Emma's room was a familiar, friendly place. She had spent more and more time here as she grew up, unlike a lot of people when it came to friends' homes, the Barnes' house was a second home when the atmosphere at hers was too much to deal with.

Taylor could navigate it in the pitch blackness at this point, and often had to. Emma had no less then two layers of blackout blinds on her windows to block out the sight of the night sky, her astrophobia had only gotten worse with time, now Emma did not leave the house after sunset unless she had company to reassure her.

This party at Madison's would not be Taylor's idea of fun, but helping Emma feel safe at night was something Taylor could do.

"If you're there at least I'll have someone to speak to," Taylor conceded.

"You know I'm right."

Emma tsk'ed as the brush continued its work. It was slow progress, Emma only had one hand to work with after all but Taylor was patient. It gave them more time to talk.

"Not a split end as ever, c'mon, what's your secret? You can tell me, just between friends." Emma needled her good naturedly.

"I just shampoo and condition it."

"Every time I ask what you use exactly you say something different, Taylor!"

"I like to just pick whatever out, it's all the same."

"It very much is not all the same! Do you have any idea how much time it takes me to get my hair to not be a rat's nest!?"

"Emma, I've seen you get ready in the morning, I know exactly how bad it can get," Taylor smiled, as Emma loudly huffed behind her. "I know exactly how long it takes, and I do sympathise... my hair is just like this I guess."

"Some people get all the luck."

Privately, and whilst she would never admit it, Taylor rather thought that of the two of them it was her best friend who received the lions share of the luck when it came to looks. Hell, Emma had had modelling work in the past, what could Taylor claim to have by comparison?

So, in response Taylor simply hummed, then shrugged.

"Why couldn't you come around earlier, by the way?"

Here goes. Taylor closed her eyes and took a breath. The PRT said she should only tell people she trusted... they would have preferred if nobody knew but they begrudgingly accepted the practicalities that Parahumans would likely tell their loved ones. Outside of her father, Emma was one of the only real people she had in her life. What few other friends she had once upon a time had mostly drifted away after the events at the Summer Camp.

"I had to go and talk to some people"

"Oh?"

Despite the laid-back way her friend prompted her to go on, Taylor still felt a knot of anxiety in her chest.

"So... I kind of stumbled into a Cape fight--"

"Are you okay?!" the immediate reaction, Emma tensing as she stopped with the brush.

"Y-Yeah... um, well," Taylor stalled. She could feel Emma staring into the back of her head, the redhead could become very intense at the drop of a hat when it came to Taylor and her health. "A piece of concrete got my in the leg, but it's all healed now!"

A breeze against the back of her head as Emma breathed a sigh of relief.

"You had me worried--"

"They called me to the PRT building, they thought I might be a Cape because of some stuff," Taylor ploughed on, before her nerves could fail her.

"Wait why would they think that?" Emma asked, confused.

"Apparently when Panacea touched me, she noticed a few strange things and it had to be reported," Taylor shrugged, rather wishing that Emma would not interrupt her when she was finding it hard enough to work up the confidence to tell her.

"Uh-huh, bit wrong of her but what did they say?"

Taylor swallowed. Emma would be the first person she would tell. But she could not hide it from her best friend.

"Emma, I--"

"You're a Cape!?"

As soon as she had near shouted it Emma's hand found her mouth, surprised perhaps by the volume of her own shout.

There was a pause of several seconds, and then Emma's arm came around her front as the other, shortened limb pressed against her upper arm to give a hug. It had always been Taylor who was the one interested in Parahuman's between the two of them, Emma was far more interested in fashion, but she had learned more than enough of the basics.

"... What can you do?"

She had dropped her voice a little.

Taylor reached up and placed her own atop Emma's to gently pat it a few times before the redhead let go.

"It's nothing fancy," Taylor admitted. "I heal faster than normal, and I become immune to other powers used on me. They had Clockblocker try and stop time on me and it only lasted a moment before it stopped working."

"Why don't you sound very impressed?"

"I mean, it's not much Emma, I didn't even realise that I had powers."

"That's still something Taylor."

Did she mention how her powers were slowing down her crystallisation? Or would that make Emma reflect on her own condition and feel bitterness? Taylor could not bear that happening, the redhead was her only friend, her only close friend that is. Anne was a friend of course, but she was away at college, Emma was all she had.

Taylor was glad that she was facing away from her in that moment.

"Yeah. I... I'm going to join the Wards."

"Really?" Emma asked. "Just don't you go getting yourself hurt, and you better not forget about me either!"

"I won't I won't!" Taylor objected as her heart faltered in panic. She could not imagine not having Emma around, it would be so utterly lonely.

Emma took up the brush again.

"Does your dad know?"

"Yeah, he had to go with me." she admitted. "I am not sure really how he took it, to be honest... he accepted my decision but I don't think he was happy with my choice either, he's barely spoken to me for the rest of the day."

Her father was no longer the man she grew up with, ever since her mother died. Did he blame Taylor for it? Did he wish that she had been the one to die instead? Just thinking about it made her question a lot of things, it had been a while since she last went to go and visit her mothers grave as well. Was she a bad daughter to them both, to her living father and the memory of her mother?

"I'll get my dad to whip him into shape!" Emma decided at once, and Taylor knew her friend was nodding to herself. No chance that Taylor could stop her now, once Emma was set on something like this there was no stopping her.

"But, have you got a name yet?"

"No. Well, not officially, I have provisional name, Annul. But there is a lot of stuff that needs to be done. After all the paperwork is taken care of, I need to meet with the Marketing people and work out some things, like costume and 'angle' and stuff like that. I didn't really get some parts of it, to be honest."

A hum.

"If they release a trading card or action figure then I'll be demanding you sign the first one for me."

Despite everything, an unrestrained laugh escaped her throat at that.

1.5

There was a lot of paperwork to becoming a member of the Wards.

Not just the legal agreements but also discussions over a trust fund, future potential membership in the Protectorate, all sorts of things that Taylor was poorly equipped to deal with.

At least she had her dad. Despite their distance in the last few years, and his own reservations, he could be like a bulldog with a chew toy when it came to legal contracts. He looked over the reams and reams of paper with a critical eye, brows pulling together, pen in hand ruining the copy the PRT had provided with notes and comments.

She almost felt sorry for Agent Coleson.

Ultimately, papers were signed, agreements were made. She turned down the opportunity to go to Arcadia, perhaps it would be smarter to make the transfer... but Emma was at Winslow, and if Taylor could not find a way for her friend to go to Arcadia with her then she would not be making the move.

Plus... if and when she graduated to the Protectorate, Taylor would be earning more than enough money a year to take care of both herself and her father.

In theory, at least.

She just needed to keep on top of her grades.

The process for working out a suitable outfit and public image was a somewhat more fraught affair.

"Annul? Annul! What the hell were they thinking giving a provisional name like that!"

Taylor blinked, watching the team of public image agents ranting in front of her. It was like watching a trio of children having a meltdown. They had not even read much more of the report they were given, at once focusing instead on the header rather than the actual important part of the document.

"Um... it's not that bad, is it?" Taylor asked.

"Annul! For fucks sake--" one of them protested. Was he frothing at the mouth? Or was it laughter? He looked to be in some form of physical pain.

"The PRT is careful to avoid names that sound like other words," another, the solitary woman of the group, pointed out.

Taylor began running through name in her mind, until-- "Oh."

The woman sent her a consoling smile.

"It is not the first time, the guys in power testing might be book smart but they are not always logical. So we will need to work out a new name for you before any public debut. I'll get a thesaurus."

The ensuring brainstorming lasted an hour and ended up with a whiteboard covered in crossed out names before one was decided upon; Ordinant.

Perhaps, after reading the power section of the document, the department was not expecting much from her. That or it was on account of not having a very noticeable power in anyway, but she acted as something of a blank slate for them to work with and by God were they throwing some strange concepts around.

What about an outfit like some sort of sci-fi knight? She was tall enough that she could match up well with Gallant and support the modern, technologically advanced image of the Brockton Bay Wards.

Or perhaps something big and bulky to make her intimidating, she was a brute after all! Taylor had to gently remind them that she was no stronger than a normal person, which somewhat took the wind out of those sails.

How about something that would show the crystal of her legs? It would go a long way to bring public notice to the condition.

That one earned a few looks from the other two at the one who suggested it. Perhaps that was a bit far even for them, as it was suggested that he go and make coffee for everyone immediately afterwards.

"Sorry about that, he gets very excited."

He was a lot like Greg Veder, back at Winslow.

Taylor was not sad that he had left.

"It's okay... but I don't want everyone to know, you know? Kind of makes it easier to find out who I am..."

"Of course, of course, and it would also go against a few rules on our end as well, I doubt Youth Guard would be happy at all. He was running with his mouth before his brain could catch up."

In the end, it was less ideas focused around the specifics of her power or even her personality but a cold, hard practicality. She may have a brute rating but it was low, so the outfit they came up with was armoured to minimise the risk to her, but not so heavily as to slow her movement. The mask would only cover half the face, more like a visor that came down to the nose so that she could breathe properly but sufficient to disguise her identity.

Apparently, it would suit the team's aesthetic, although she was not quite sure how, and of course it would have to be made and tried on before it could be greenlit.

Taylor came away from the whole experience somewhat disheartened.

Hearing how she would act as the 'middle ground' between their current approach with Shadow Stalker and Vista, made her sound like the bland intermediary between them. Or, perhaps, that was her own insecurities about it, about this entire experience. She was going to be a Hero; she was going to help people!

But there was no denying that in the grand scheme of things she had a very mild healing factor and a power that was useless against almost all forms of harm.

Bullets, knives and even fists were far more frequently encountered threats than other powers.

On the scale of fish to shark Taylor was quite firmly and unquestionably a minnow.

But that did not mean she was useless! Emma said so, and she had been telling herself the same for the last few days.

She would make her parents proud, or her father at least.

It may not be anything grand, but she could make something of herself!

"How are you feeling, Ordinant?"

"I--A little nervous, to be honest," Taylor stuttered, reaching up to rub at her arm. After a few minor cosmetic alterations, she now had her own outfit, her own suit. This was her first time walking about in it outside of the PR rooms. It was a little awkward, but she was getting used to it.

Miss Militia smiled.

Or Taylor thought she did.

It was a little hard to tell.

The elevator down to the Wards quarters was silent, it ran so quietly that she had to wonder whether it was a piece of tinkertech. Was it? She could not see any obvious indications of such... but then again how would she know? Something like a giant laser cannon with flashing lights would be obvious tinkertech, but the inside of an elevator was a lot more difficult to tell. She occupied herself with looking around the inside, hoping to find the answer.

It was too quiet.

How was the machinery accounting for moving their weight downwards, the inside looked to not be manufactured like other examples of elevators she had seen? She kind of wanted to know, but before she could pose the question to her companion they came to a stop, and the doors opened.

They emerged into some sort of antechamber; Miss Militia walked over and pushed a button that caused a red light to flash above the single door in front of them.

"That's a warning to let the Wards know that we are here and to put their masks on, once they are done, they'll press a button inside to let us know we can go in."

"That's cool."

When the light turned green the older Parahuman led the way in.

Inside it was... nice. A bit like a break room, like an upmarket version of the one at the Dockworkers Union. Perhaps it was just Taylor's mind that made the comparison.

The Wards had assembled to meet them, a mismatch of different costumes. She had been following news about some of them for years, keeping up with their escapades and publicity, and now she was meeting them! This would be her team, perhaps for the next few years, it felt strange, that realisation.

"Hello everyone, how are we all?" Miss Militia broke the ice, receiving various responses. "We have the new prospective here," the Protectorate member glanced to Taylor, who took a half step forward and raised a hand.

"H-Hey, I'm Ordinant. It's nice to meet you all," she said, trying her best to be positive and friendly. First impressions counted with people, her father always said that. Faintly, she could hear a snort from one of them, a dark and brooding character near the back who learned against a doorway with visible disinterest in the proceedings.

Shadow Stalker.

A former vigilante whose power revolved around transforming into a darkness able to phase through solid objects.

The knowledge came unbidden, but she had kept track of the former vigilante when she first emerged, diving into the PHO discussions and reports whilst bored at night or the dissociative urge took her. Shadow Stalker got into trouble a few times but had a good opinion with some people due to her very proactive approach to dealing with gangs.

Greetings were given in turn, the Wards seemed to be a friendly enough group with the exception of Shadow Stalker. Vista in particular seemed rather enthused by her presence, exactly why she did not say but perhaps it was just childish friendliness?

Clockblocker however, insisted on a handshake, as had Aegis who had been a strange combination of friendly but also quite clearly the leader of the group.

Taylor took Clockblocker's hand and waited to see what would happen. After a moment there was a chuckle as her hand moved up and down in his.

"Still immune to the ol' Clockblock special, eh Ordinant?" the Ward in question asked.

"Clockblocker how many times do we have to tell you not to do that!"

His chuckle became a full-on laugh.

Should she be irritated that he tried to use his power on her without permission, or glad to see that her power was still protecting her, and presumably would be into the future as well?

Vista gave Clockblocker a good shove to the shoulder.

"Sorry about him, but hey, at least you don't have to endure his pranks in future!" Vista sniped.

The Wards mostly seemed to be a good group, Taylor thought idly as she watched the little interactions between them. Strained in some instances, like when Kid Win offered to show her his workshop, and she had to wonder whether some part of it was all a show for her sake? But either way some of the anxiety that had built up in her chest loosened up. If even half of them were friendly people, then she would have a few people to talk to whilst on duty, right?

Miss Militia was speaking again.

"Ordinant still needs to have some training before we can let her join you out in the field," Miss Militia explained. Oh right, Taylor had forgotten... apparently there would be quite a lot of physical and self-defence training, alongside working on 'console', a word that did not get any full explanation as to what it meant. Presumably it meant being the person on the other side of a phone line taking in calls or helping to organise things? "But she'll mostly be held back from patrols due to her power," Miss Militia finished.

Nods all around, were they disappointed that she would not be contributing as much as them?

Oh, and there was just one person left to be introduced.

"Gallant?" Aegis looked towards the final person, tall and wearing an outfit that looked like techno-futuristic plate armour.

For a moment there was no response, and then he jolted.

"... Ah, sorry, I got distracted," he stumbled over himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He sounded a little hesitant, or perhaps caught off guard?

Well, Taylor felt awkward around new people so she could empathize, but it was interesting to see the difference between the gallant gentleman always presented by the news and PHO versus the reality. He offered a hand, and she shook it, it was a little formal perhaps but each to their own, Aegis had done the same.

The other Wards though, they seemed a little put off by his response, they were quiet for a few moments and looking between one another.

Gallant glanced momentarily over Taylor's shoulder; to where Taylor knew that Miss Militia still was.

What was that all about?

Somewhat put off, Taylor was distracted from the strange interaction by Vista asking several questions. The next few minutes were taken up with idle conversation, getting to know folks. By the time she and Miss Militia left for some console training, Taylor felt as if she had a rather good grasp on who was who in the Wards and what they would be like to work with.

1.6

Taylor swallowed, resisting the urge to speak up and probably make a fool out of herself.

Thank god for her outfit having a mask that covered most of her face, else she would be even more of a mess then she was right now.

Tap tap tap—

It was a bad habit of hers, to run her fingers along her leg and feel the crystal beneath. But now she instead tapped the front shin-guard like piece of metal that made up her outfit, feeling the cool material under the gloves.

Miss Militia was pointing out buttons on the console, the various functions and purposes to each and when to use them. There was... quite a selection, but Taylor nodded with each description, trying her best to commit it all to memory.

"A lot of it on your end will just be liaising with the people on patrol to be honest Ordinant, console duty might seem pretty dull and boring compared to patrols but without console we are far less able to do our job," she said, having just finished covering the 'big five' buttons, linking to various contacts and emergency numbers. "Most of the job is just checking in, when things do happen though you are just as important as anybody who is on the patrol."

A nerve centre, then.

"It seems like something that anyone can do, I mean, it seems odd not to have a professional do it."

"You're right," she admitted. "But it's a good way for you to pick up on how things work, the operational side and not just the patrols... most Ward's find it incredibly boring, but being a Hero is not all patrols and fighting Villains." Miss Militia looked her in the eye at that, as if trying to impress the importance of her works in that moment.

Tap tap tap

"Oh, no it's okay. I might as well get good at this seeing how my powers are not that useful."

If nothing else... she would have plenty of time to observe the Wards and how they worked. The introduction had gone well enough but there was still training and more to be done before she could really contribute to the team.

Miss Militia, however, seemed to take umbrage with her statement, frowning.

"Stop that, just because they are not flashy doesn't mean they are not useful, like I said when we first met," she said. "Lots of people would say that plenty of powers are useless, but some of the longest serving Protectorate members have powers that are exactly that, but they are consistent and useful in their own way, you should have some faith in yourself Ordinant… Alright, do you remember which one is the hotline to Armsmaster's office?"

After a moment composing herself, she nodded and pointed.

"This one."

"You have a good memory, it took a certain Ward two weeks to remember that one, they accidentally phoned through to the Director instead and woke her at three in the morning,"

Despite herself, she smiled.

"Can I ask who?"

"I won't embarrass them."

Good to know that Miss Militia would not spread any mistakes she made about, and Taylor had little doubt that there would be a few along the way. The other Hero reached out and pressed a button.

"Console to Vista and Shadow Stalker, anything to report?"

"Vista to Console, nothing going on here, just about to turn onto King Street," came the voice of the youngest Ward a few seconds later.

"Ordinant would like to ask something."

Wait, what? Taylor swallowed thickly as she leant forward a little. What did Miss Militia want her to ask?

"Oh, um... hi, both. Seen anything interesting?" Taylor cringed both emotionally and physically at the way she spoke.

"Nah, nothing so far. Not even kids spray painting a wall," Vista griped from the other end. Taylor could just imagine Shadow Stalker walking at the younger girl's side, the abrasive older Cape probably harboring far less pleasant ways to describe the night.

"Okay, um... keep an eye out then."

Miss Militia nodded, and took back over.

"As Ordinant said, Console out." She released the button. "It's that simple most of the time, it'll be as simple as making a phone call soon."

Taylor could but hope.

They lapsed into comfortable silence for a little while, Taylor's eyes moving from screen to screen and examining all the buttons once again. Mentally she went over the Big Five again, committing them to memory, then examining the speakers, the coffee machine. All there was to see, examined, memorized.

The time dragged on.

A check in was made, again with nothing of note.

Miss Militia seemed content to remain silent.

She probably had a lot of paperwork to do during the day, but here she was with Taylor, showing her the ropes. It almost made her feel a little bad. Should she be talking? Should she be interacting? Her eyes looked over the other Parahuman. She looked so casual, sat there despite being on duty, the gun created through her power sitting on her hip. It looked almost normal, but Taylor had seen it put to use in videos, changing rapidly from one armament to the next. She had to wonder just how many things it could become.

Could it become a laser, for instance? Or was it limited only to conventional weapons?

Her curiosity was starting to get the better of her, through force of will she tore her eyes away from the weapon.

"How long do you think it will be before I, you know... debut?"

"Depends how long it takes for you to be ready, to be honest Ordinant. We always need more people, but sending you out early would be a big mistake. The moment you debut is the moment that the public begins to scrutinise and expect to see you in action."

Taylor nodded.

"Yeah... perhaps it is best to wait."

Wait and learn, learn everything worth knowing and then be the best hero she could be.

Taylor rubbed at her arm.

The comparatively thin metallic plates were a level of protection, but the distance they added between her hand and arm was disconcerting.

She really should not be so worried, she could heal faster than most apparently, and her outfit was armored so learning hand to hand combat should not be so concerning to her. Perhaps it was just her residual nerves, the last time she had been even vaguely close to a fight she had had a piece of concrete sinking into her leg deep enough that it might have hit an artery if she still had flesh and blood there. Oh and the night the Oort-Spider arrived... but that was less a fight then an unnatural disaster.

If nothing else... she was a survivor.

Of course, she knew that the red clad Parahuman infront of her was nothing like that thing.

"Alright then Ordinant, you ready?" Aegis asked.

She did not actually know much about the leader of the Wards, other than he could fly and was some manner of brute, easily tougher than her in terms of rating based on what she had seen over the years. He had been polite to her so far, helping her navigate her way around the Wards quarters and even making sure that her choice of pizza topping was applied the other night when she, him and Kid Win got food before they went out on patrol.

Taylor could hardly complain about his attempts to include her in things.

"Y-Yeah, sorry, got distracted."

"It's cool, the hardest part of learning anything is starting out. Now... let's see how hard you can punch me."

Taylor stared at him.

"Are... are you sure?"

"Yup! I barely feel pain and I want to see how hard you can hit and what I am working with. I made the mistake of underestimating Stalker when she first joined, she's got a hell of a right hook. Might as well know rather than get surprised."

Taylor couldn't help but feel that the other Ward's approach was... idiotic. But then again if he had read her file he would know that she was not really a threat. How high even was his brute rating? She really did not know enough about his powers--

D͚̰̽ͯ̊r͕̤̹̬͖̅̿̏o̝̘̪̱̱͉͕̪̦̩ͮ̂́ͮͫ̑͗͗ͯ̈̓ͅͅn̘̗̻͉̲͖̯̩ͣͬ͐̚è̟̝͍͓̬̹̎ͪ́̿ ̰̩̼̟͎͚̹̂́o̝̣̼͓͇̼̗̹̟̳̿͊̏b͖͖̼̌̾͌ͯͬ̇ͧ͋̄̐s̝̞͎̳̃͂ͬ̓̌ͯͨ͐͆ͦe̱̭̭̤͚͖̭̓̈̓̏r͇̳͍̫̘̳͂̐͗̌ͩ̂͊̄̇̈̽ͮͅv̘ͣͧͤ̐̀͊ͬ̎ȧ̠ͬ̐ͣ͒̓͗̉t̬̘͖͕̥̞ͦ̇̏͐ͨ̾ͦ̀̽̐ͪ̿ḯ͖͖̮̙̩͑̎̊o͙ͦ̂̾ͤͦn͙̲̳̮̣̳̗̰̹͈̰̖͊ͤͥ͌͗͒̑ ̪̯̬̘̹̖̖̲͓̩̬͇́̓͆̈́͒ͣ̂c͇͔̝̘̟̪̻̯͈̻̩̓͋̏̈̃ͬ̐̊͛̚a͍͇ͦ̏ͅp̻̦̼̭͈̹͍̙̭̳̼̄ͦ̾ͥͅa͍͈̮̣͉̙͎̱̒̾c̺̟̭̯͖̔͑i̝͆ͣͥ̂͒̓̊ͬͩ̂t̘͎̳̳̠̺͖̅ͨͣ̀i͍͇ͯ̎̊̔e͎̯͉̜͎̦̗͎̝̖̞̥͛͊́̄͒s̝͇̤͕̺͔̳͔͇̒̀̅̉̍ͭ̓͗ ̜̟͈̙́ͫ͐͆̑͊ͤ͊ͯi͍̞̱̹̫͈̬͍̔ͫ̿͐̆̅̚n̯͎ͪ͒́ͪ̚s͈̝̹̻̠͍͋͗͋̃ͤ̋ͅû̳̘͓̹͎̳̹̃͌ͪͫ̎̒̉̂̈ͅf̘̠͎̻̘̻ͨ̿ͦͥ̀̏͆͆f̥̜̬̞͖̫͆ͬͪͅi̠͙ͥͦ͒͒͋̈́̒ͥ̔̒̚c̝̳̜͐͊̾̑ͨ̀͛ͩ̋ͦ̋̚ị̺̀͛̑ͧ͐͂e̳̙̞̭̋̋ͭ̾ͭ̽ͦ̅̇̍̚ͅn̠̳̱̍̉ͣt̬̱̦͓̺̯̣̺̖͐ͥͥ͒̂̉̉̐ͯͮ̚̚.͓͍̖ͯ ̤̹̱̞͈̥̜͍͇͍̆̄͊ͭ͐̇ͅP̝͕͕͙̮̈̔̓̌e͈̬̗̹ͥ͂͌̍̅̈̿͌ͫr̟͓͍̅̉̋ͦ͐̈̄f̰̬̰̟̹̟̝͎ͭͮͮ̑̅̏̾ͬȍ̪r̠͇̱͙̖̻ͨ́͌͌̈̌̔ͦ͒̌̂̚m͈͓͖͚͇̙͇̝͎̳̟̀̂ͮ̈́ͮi͓̬̼͈̻̽͂̉͂̌ͮ̚n̗̪͈͇̩̠̹ͨͤ̈́̌̂g̹̓̄ ̯̮͕̹̘̼͑̍̽̍̋̄̌͛ͩ̾̑ͅd͈͉̮͖̰̥͖̖̤͋́͗̅͆̑ͥ͌̈́̚e̺̳̞͔͔̜͙͉͔͎̼ͥͭ͂͆ě̦͙̪̳̝͉͉̼̯̮̲͒͆̑̓͑͛ͅp͍͚͚͈̏̑̒ͮͧͤ̽ͤ̉̇ͬ̾ ͙ͬ̿ŝ͕͕̦̼̞̗͇̳͔̑ͭ̇̓ͤ̍̽c̭̟͇̎̽̌ͣͮͬ̈́ȧ͇̣̲͍̹̺̥̗n͙̹̬̳͎̝͔ͨ͐̈͐̔ͥͥͬͭ̂̐͂ ̝͙͕̗͉͖̙͍̖͍̱͉͋o̳̯͔̼̭̍̂̑f̻̲͖̫̪͇͔͍̯̖̥̆ͪ́ͪ̅̿̔ ̯̤͕̬̈́͒̉ͪb̦̞̩͚̼͔̠̥̙̹̒͗̄͐͛̐̿̍̑i̤̠̟̍ͪͦò̳̦̳͖͙̱̱̥͌̑ͅl͚̠͔͖̘͖̖̣̒͂͐ͦȯ͓͍͇̗͉̱͉̻̜̻̣̟g̫̻̪̗̪̰̭̦̊ͪ͐ͦ̚ͅy̞̥̏̃͋ͨ.̝̼͈͎͚̯͖̣̳̜̄ͫͨ̓ͨ̐̔͛ͬͤ

̥̐͗̔ͭ̓̀̈ͬ̓ͥE̙̹̙̓̃̊ͣ̌ͯ͌̅͛̊͊̚n͓͕̬̭̳̲͐̆̇ͭ͊̉ͫ̿̂̃̂ͅͅg͉͚̩͕̔̐ͨ̂̿͂̿̂ͯ͒̏̚ă̹̮͚̟̣̳̗̓̊ͭ͒̅g̩ͯͩͤ͐̆̄̓̽ͣ̓̊i̻͑̆̋̓ͪ̚n̳̬͍̲̣̩̺ͬg̰̭̭̪̪̙̳͙͌̌̒͒̔ͪͫ̂̇̏̽ ͍̪̫͖̖̹̹͋͌̓ͥ̈P̗̯̬̝̹͚̲̻̗̱͙͇̓̓ͨ͛̋a̰̼̖̦̠͚̣̻̳͖ͣ̄̽͒̈̓͛r͕̽ä͚̱͚́̅͐͌͛̄̅̔́̽̾d̟͍͙̤͙͓͛̉̓ͪ̂̄̐ͦ̋͂̌̚ị̘̹͉̺̩̣̼̣ͨͭ͋̇̌g̫̯̝͖̱͚͎͈̯͎̉͗̽ͩ̆̌͊̉͐m̳̞͕͉̲̺͔̙͇͇̠̏̒̔̇̓ͪ̒̾ ͎͉͍͖͆͒I̩̼͌̾̍ͮn͙͇ͩͬ́̚f͕̱̘̘̊͒ͩ̌͗͊̉̿l̬̠͚̞̺͇̒̀a̲͓̣ͭͦͫ̔̓ͥ̾ͅť̯̣͓̹͙̖̤̥̼̟̀i̮̦̦͔̻̼͕̪͉̲̳͒ͯͣͬͥͥ̌ͅo̘̤ͥ̽͑ͨǹ̩͗.̘̣̪̺͓ͥ̓ͪͧ̅̌ͥ̈ͯ̉ ̯̪̠̜̟͈ͧͯ͑̊́̽͂̊̚Ạ̖̠̣̤ͣń̺̙̠̼̣̲̗̮̈́ͅa̻͔̤̻͎̻͇̫͔̩̗͊ͨ̇ͅl̥͔̟̱̟̯͌y̳̹̫̜̰͎̽s̩̺̯̖̗͉̅ͤ̆̔̄̈͆̚i͇̘͚̰̝̫͉̙̖̞̙͑̈̄̂ͅs͍̜̖̫̯̞̞̪̭̮ͯ͛ͩͩ̔ͫ͆ͥ:̞̼̬̘͕͕͊̍ͫ͂̓̏̽̂̚ ͉͇̙̹͙̥̪͉̖̯͐̒A̳͌̏͑̓ű̖̗̹̘͍̥̻̻ͪ̎ͪ͐̈͛͌̀͐̿̾ṭ͕͚̳ͤ̅o̗ͤ͂̈́̃͆͛ͯͩ̈́̓̈́-͙͕̞̝͙́̐͗ͭa̯͎ͨ͊u̹̦ͬ̑̎͑ͬ̚ͅg̪͈̩̝͙͚͈͈̳̓m̱̯̪̥̎̄̈́ͯe̳̮̩̱̣̬͈̭̘̩̩͍͂̉̋͐ͥn̼̞͍̝͋ͨͪ̄t̺̦̗̣̤̞̹̫̐̈́ͣ͆̓ͅe̫̣͖̰̮̰̮͈̯̫ͭ͐ͧ͌̈́d̖̥͙͈̠̑̅̽ͬ̑ͬ ̠̲͇̰͎̻̞ͣ̉͆b͙̭͙̼͖̄́̑̃̑i͚̻̤͖̭̪̹̤̇̉̀ͥ͒̌̚o̠̬̰̺̙̹̫͉͗ͨͅḻ͚͍̪̯̘̳̥͎̹͆̂ͯ̈̃̑͌͊ͥỏ̜̗̮̩͈̆g̰͔̹͖͚̖̝͕͇͈̓̂̿̀ͅy̙͚̦̦͓̯̌̐́ͩͨ͒̾̑̓̇̉ͅ ̠͚͓̤͕̙̗͉͕̯̞ͦf͙̮̙̗̏͗͑͋͌ͩ̂ͧo̪̣͗̅͌̈́͛̔̑ͦ̽ͨc̟͔̰̻̤̝͖̭̺̩̩͔̾̀̂̓ͧȗ̯̮͚̮̰̪͑̀s̹̥̭̞͎̞̘̩̯̻̫̤͆͌́̆͑ͩ̓e̲̰̥ͬͧͣ̀ͅd̩̭̥̭̬̙̘͇̜̮̥̗͌͐ͦ͑̊ ̝̝͚͚͙̞̩̠̜ͪ̃̃ͯ̈̇̏̽͂ͫͣo͙̤̪̰̘̜̰̮͖̜͔ͤ̓̆n̜̼͍̻̬͎̰͓ͦͅ ̥̩͚̫̜̯̮̖̹̝ͨ̅͌̌ͅr̙͓͈͊̾̎̆ͯͭͫͭ͗̔e̼͖͖͓͓̭̳̦̲̥̙̋̍̿̿̔̊ͩͪ͊̒̅ͅd̹̔ͪ̓u̻̟̩̙̣̥͈̭̱̳̗̓̓̏n͉͍̮̼̣̪̜ͣ̂ͤḓ̯̰͎̍ͨͩa̖͈͚̤̲̟̹̖͔͓̜ͧ͗͂͂ͥ̂͋ͬ̈́͑̚ñ̜͖̰͉̮̩̤̼͓͂ͮͪͅc͔̝̤͕̠̯̰̩̖̤ͤ͛̿͒̅̊͑͆͑͌ͫ̽i͓͔̝̟̿̍̑̊̄̆̿̊ͣͣͬ̿e̖̺͓̤̖͙̹̗̫ͧͅș̱͎͇̔̏͛̐̅ͩ̎͑͑ ̦͙̰͚͖̜̲͙͇͌̈̾ͯe͙̳͙͇͍̯ͥͦ̿ǹ̗͈͚̮̱̏̃ͪͧ̓ͧͪͬ͗̔͒ț̳̩̟̦͓͓̤͉̥ͥͣ̇ͅw̞̼̤̬͓̪̦̦̰̹͆̒̔̂ͭͨ̐̿̿̊̍ͫȉ͚͎̰͉̘͉͉͕̮̟͊̚n̺̈́͑̈́͛ͭͤ͗e̞̼̭̞͔͆ͫd͖͉ͧ̐̈͑͌̏̔̃̔̌̈́̚ͅ ̺̤̳̪̩̩͇̺͉̲̊͒ͦͪͤ͒͐͑͑̆͌̅w͈̲̞̻͙͒i͖͇̯ͫ̑̃̄̋̆͐ͤͦ̚̚t͈̣͚̳̘̟ͩ̌̀h͚̠̼ͪ̄ͣ̌͌̓ͧͭ̋ͥͦ͗ ̺̦́̓͆ͬ͛̇͋ͅl͉̝͈̜̞̪̜̯̓͑ͨͦ̾̋́̐͆ͧ̚e͍̗̹͍̗̙̖̬̥̺̣̲͒̌̓v̯̣̬̟̣̼͊̈́̇ͭͯ̈́̈̏͂̒̈ī͖͉̩̯̱͔͉͖̃́̿t̫̣̺̦̂̏͆ͮ͑ͧͮ̔a͕͔̘͍̮ͮ̀ͨͣ͌͊̈́͋͋t͇̹̞̂ͣͣͮ̾i͗̉̈́ͪ̎̂͐͗͊ͮ͑̒ͅō̩̟̏͆ͪ̽ͥ̿͑̇͌̿n͓̜̲̰͎ͦ̂̾͑ͦ̂͛͌̓ͬͬ̆ ̝͓̜̥̱͖̱̗̮̹̰̦̄e̬ͨn̟̰̥̘͍̹͖̼͎̫̄̋̈̇̈́͑ͅh̘̮͎͔̫̩͕̮̔a̹̮̳͇̳̭̙̗͔̭̔̑ͅͅn̹͙̘̯̫̥͋̃c̼̭̰̲̠̹̠̑̈́̌ȇ̲̹̫̺̟̗͙̗̺͓̇͛͂̀d̲̥̱̰̺̙̽̾̑ͤͭ͒̅̾ͨ-̤̙̟̙̜̻̼̟̤̬͍̒ͪͤͦm̰͚̬̩͙͌ͦ͛ͦ̊̈o̘̤̦̠̟̔̓̉̋ͫ̊̆̔̽͛ͅb̺̠͙̮̔ͩ̑ͦ̅̔̆̍̆ͥ̏͗í͈̪̥̥̪͇͕̣̟͂ͤͧ̿̐ͤͮ̏ͧ̄̎ľ̙̱̣͓̤̰̻͓̫̙͙̺̊̓̚i̱͖̒̅ͬ͊ͯ̂ͧ̄̏t̘̲̲͆́̀̾̇͆͒̌ͯ̚ŷ͇͉͙̙̘͖̠̲͛̍̈́̓ͫ̍̃̏ͦͧ

̥͔ͥͨ̌ͫ͆ͤͯ̓͋̅R̜̘̝̹͔͉͕̲͉͖̥̪̈́ͤe̩͈͍̘̙̪̝̖̮̭̭͋̊͊̄̃ͅp̟̟͕͑l͙͔̙͖͓̭ͬ̇ͫ̾́͌ï͍͕͓̘͚ͭ̈̉c̞̻̜͈̖͖̤͚̮͕͋̊̇̎͗͒ͬa̬͗̿̅̑̏̽͊ͥ͌t͍͉̖̳̫̣̥͙̠͙ͣ͑̃͊̈́̓ͮͮ͌̏͂̀e̻̪͕͉͉͈̣̤̰̮̩̋͂ͨͬͬ̈́̚ ̹͔͉̭̺̩͛̋ͬ̈́̃̊ḁ̳̻͓͎̺͚͎͖̾̌̓͆͛̍ͩn̙͕̱̘̭̜̣̦̲̅̃̑ͥͯ̃ͭ̒d̫͗ ͔̥̦͕̫̼͚̱̗̂̃̔́ͅa̭̼͈̩̩͖̟ͦͭ̔p̜͇͙̮͇̪͚̹̳̬͎̓̇͐̆̉̐̃̇ͪp͉̳̻̜̜̹̯̳̮ͨ̅͊̏̈̍̂̂͆l͇͎̣͈̺̇͊̾̔͌͛ͤ͛ͨ̂̔ÿ̜̯͎́ͅ ̰͖̺̞̱͈̟̽ͭ̆ͬ̄ͧ̌ͩͦ͌P̭͇͍̪̞ͪ͐͌̇͌ͩa̟̣̰̼̱̯̺̰̭͎͐̑̾ͣͤ̇ͯ̆̚̚r͉͔͒ͬͦͦ͐̆ͩ̈́̚a̤̅̈́ͫ͑d͙̭̿̀ͨ͐͗̓̈̃̃͗̄ͅi͚̐ͥͪͮ̐͂ḡ̦̠̞͍̻̰͉̦̗͙̍͊ͫ͐̊ͤ̑́̍͗̿m̲̹̯̤͖̳̖͍͖̼ͯͅ ̬̩ͥͣͮͩ͂̐̄̃ͮ̔I̭̓ͬ̐̍̈͂̅̔̚n̺͖̋̋ͭ̎ͧͦͪ̋̐̈ͨf̱̯̤̠͈͍͔ͨ̄ͥͤͯ̒̏̓ͬ̌͊ͪĺ̬̫̹͍̗̻͕̰ͥ̾̃̎͆͛ͧa͙͓̺̖̙̣̰̥̥̒̊̆͊̑t͈̩̳̼̠̟̠̞̤̲̓̓ͫ̿͗̑̾i͍̩̺̤͔̖̯̣ͭ̀̅̔ͯ͐̓ͅö͇͚̳͚̗ͬn̗͕̖͓̬͈̟ͦͯ̂ͮͫͤ ̱͍̹̬̱͕̮̗̜̾a̦̠̜̩̝̼͙͐̂̂̉ͩ̐͑̽ͭͯ̽n̘̂ͩ̌͑͛ͨͨͥ̌̔ͧ̒a͕͚̱͉̠̓ͩ̓͒̐̄͐ͮl̺̰̲̯͕̲͖̗̤̼̗ͦ͒y̙̖̰̘͔̖̲̥͇͍͉̮ͩ͛͑͋̊̅ͯ̄͌̚s̭͈̭͂̓̐ȋ͕̬̘̻̲͎̇̌ͪ̓͛͑ͭͥ̉s͖̙͓ͭ͑̔̊̂̋̋͋̄ ̱̪͙͖͖̙̙͗̔͂̃ͮ͛ͯͮͯ͊̈o̤̭̥͉̗̖̘̱͕̟̠̥͂͋̈̄ͧn̳̱͕̮̂ͨͫͩ͊̏̔̄̐ͤ͂ͭt̠̰ͮ̃͛̊͂o͕͎̖̭͐ͭ ͕̺̭͎̣̖̜ͫͧ̋ͣo̭͓̣͈̦͙͎̦̳͉̤ͨ͊̋̐ͫb͎̦͙̪͖̺̭̫͚̖ͧͤͤ͌̀͒ͅs͚͎̲͎̦̙̹̝͔̎̓ͮ̔̊̂̔͒e̻̞̠̖̟̫͕͊ͯ̿͛ͬ̇ͦͭr̥͈̩͔̖̰̣͉̯̥͉̂v͙̮̈͒́̇̍̉ͪ̂á̦̹̭̩̥̖̼̽ͯ̿̃t͈̳̱̫̖͖̫͈̦̊͂̀ͣ̏i̲̱̪̱̣̤͓̍ͭ̅ó̲͉͕̝͕̲̬̫͔̜͈ͧ̋͑ͧ̄n͎̙̭̪̖̱̰͚̩ͧͅ ̯̮̥̖͙͙̊ͯ͌ͣ͋̊̚ͅd̪̬̯̭̝͖̩͓ͧͩͮ̀ͬ̇͊͋ͮͦ̚r̩̠̞͇̫̋̍̎̆ͬ̋ó̘ͦͨn̗̙̗͔͖̺̋͒ͨ̃͒e̜̹̼̜͖͍͎͍̽̎̔͂̚?̩̪̑ͫ̔ͬͥͣ̽̿̊ ͉̘̯̞̞̜̄̉̆̔̒ͨͅṶ̱̞̰̝̖̦̲ͬ̅̿̌ͨͭͥ̉́̍ͫn̞̓̈ͧ͌ͤ͂ͦ̾n̖͓͉͙ͯ̑ͩ̒͒ͩȇ̦͔̬̻͉̪̜͒̆͊̓͛ͨ̿̅̏̉c̳̘͉̥͕̪̬̣̫̄̊̏ë͙̝̰̟͔̰̹̭̹͎́s͙͔̤͈̙̖̼͉͈̞̒͑s̼̱̹̼̞͓̲͔̖̘̟ͫͭ͑̏ͧ̓͐̒ḁ̦̮̰͓̞̱̣̺̥ͧ̉͒̂͑̑̎̍̄̚ͅͅr͎͉̹̖̮͇ͤ̔̑̋̆ͭ͐͊͊ͩ̈́ͭy͔̹͈̜̽̾ͣͧ͌͆̏ͪͤ̔

̤̼̜͎ͩͩ̉ͮR̰̲̙̤̖̤̄̿̑ͩͦ̆ͫ̎̎̑̃è̦̜̩͕̺͋̄ͭ͛͛ͮ̔̇̚s̻̺͈͋̄͋ͪͫͤ̒ͮc͚͓͙̗̯͖̻̮̃ͫ̈͑ͣ̂̊͒̔i̱̗̘̞̪̭͚̩̟̾ͩͫ͐́ͪ͛ͅn̯͉̭̭̙ͧ͐ͭ̂̓͊̌d̦̰ͨ̋̐͊ͤ͐̚ ̳͕̲̱͉͐̆̈P̭̩̬͓̪̟̲̖̎̓̃͐ͪ͐̃̚a̝͚͍͍͉͚̹̳̣͇ͦ̿͆͊̾ͬ͊r̲̤̣̠͉̬̻̩ͭ̐ͤ̒̅a͚͇̹͕̞̬ͫ̅͊̓ͩ́̑̂ͭ̉d̫͇̣͙̹̮̹̹̙͙̞̈́̓̉́ͯ̃ͯ́͑ͪ́ͅǐ̯̮̣̖̰̩̺͚͓̻͇̼g̲̘͉͖͍̏̽ͮ̐m̪͇̹͙͓̪̼̌ͭ͒ͧ̌̅ͮ ͇̘̰̻͕̝̙̅͋͆ͦ̉̀ͭ̈́̾ͯͫͯͅI̗̠͍͙̩͂ͥ͐̅ͯͦ́͗̎n͈͙̻̟͈͓̠̪͓̑ͬ̃̃ͅf̝̄l̬͇̙̞̜ͮ̄̀ͯ̍͊̽̓̐̿̄à̯̥̤̠͇̮̫̬͗ṫ͉̲̲̙̣̝̯̭͚̘͚͉̍ͣ̐i͎̝͔̫͚̬̭̰̦̤͛o͕̠̘̞̲̲͓̳̼̟̱̤ͮ́̈̇ͪ̾͌ͣ̆ͯ̓ṇ͙̩͙̥̖͐ͯͮͮ̂̀ͧ̉͌ ̰̜̫̱̣͔̗͇͉̼ͪ̎͋c͓̮̝̤͓̱͉̜͓̤͎̔̿̔͋́ͦā̟̯͌͗̓p̭̝͐a̼̠ͩ̚c̗̼͇͓̞͖̲̝̋̽̈́̊̐ī̜̩̅ͬ̿͐̓ͯ̿̑t͇̳͇̝̼͙̘͕̘̻͕ͩ͑ͭ̾ͧ̅ͫ̓̎̓ͦy̤̼̲̪̲̼̙͚̬̹̤͈ͦ͂̚?̖̓̈͌ ̟͕ͫ̈̔͛R̻͍̫̳̺̽̓͒ͣ̋͑ͨ̃̑̌̚ě͖̗̭͔̪̰ͧ̽ͯ͒̿ͨͬͥ̚ͅj͈̮͖̩ͮ͑ͭ̅̍ͮͯ̚ė̙̺͓̻͆̈ͯ͊ͪc̲͔̮̳̓͑͆ͭͬṯ̹̖̟̀̓ͯͮ̀ͦe͙̪͔͈̺̖̒̒ͬ̾̅̊̉̋̈́̌̚d͕͕̳̙͈̟̦̱̳̗̆̏̎ͫ̽ͬͤ̌̌̚

"Okay... um..." feeling like a fool, Taylor took up what she thought was some kind of fighting stance, keenly aware that she probably looked like an idiot.

The idea of actually attacking someone was very different in thought than reality... especially when the other person was watching you just as keenly. Aegis had taken up something like a boxing stance, braced with one foot set forward to keep his balance.

"It's alright Ordinant, hit me with your best."

So she did her best.

Taylor had been aiming for his jaw.

She missed, her hand crashing into the side of Aegis' head.

The minimal distance between her body and his [Corona Pollentia] brain, some idle part of her realised.

And then the pain hit.

"Arrghhh--" Taylor hissed, shaking her hand. Even with the metallic plating, punching a solid object sent a wave of force up one's arm and sent her wrist at a weird angle. The feeling was a shock, watching a cape fight or fight in a movie did not really account for the physics of hitting a solid object.

"Interesting aim there, going for my temple," the red clad hero mused.

"I'm sorry!"

Aegis waved it off.

"Hey, hey, it's cool. Alright... let's start with correcting your stance, also, don't wrap your fingers around your thumb, that's a good way to break it... and lets get to sorting out your posture. You need to face a bit less head on, turn your body a bit more--no, too much, okay, there. If you face ahead too much it just makes you an easier target.." he said, moving to help adjust how she stood. There was humor in his voice and seemingly unconcerned about the fact that she had just tried to slug him in such a vulnerable place. Was he that confidant in his powers? Shouldn't he... at least get himself checked out in case she had done some unseen damage?

Still, over the next hour or so Aegis certainly put her through the wringer, even if it was just getting basics down.

At least throwing a punch did not leave her wrist in pain by the end.

1.7

The alarm in the Wards quarters went off, not one to indicate an emergency but simply a warning for everyone to have their masks on.

Such was not an uncommon occurrence, although it was rarer for all of them to be in the base at the same time. Today it had been at the request of Miss Militia, and so Dean had presumed that there was some sort of news that needed to be shared in person.

So, when the alarm did go, he and the others were ready for it.

As he had thought, it was Miss Militia who emerged into the room, greeting them with the cheer that made her a favourite among the public.

"Hello all, how are we?"

A chorus of replies, ranging from the cheerful (Clockblocker) to the standoffish (Shadow Stalker).

"Thanks for all being able to make it today, this isn't a major bit of news but we thought it best to tell you now and in person that you'll be getting a new Ward soon."

Good news, another Ward. One that would hopefully make up for a few of the shortfalls already present. Perhaps a high-level brute? Or a shaker to work alongside Vista? There were nods all around at this information. For once Clockblocker did not immediately make some comment pranking the newbie. Instead, to Dean's surprise, he appeared unsurprised by the news. Had he perhaps encountered the prospective Ward member before? He must have.

"She is an Oort-Spider survivor, her lower legs are already crystallised." Miss Militia's met each of their eyes in turn, stern. Dean felt his heart drop at that as a cold shiver went down his spine as memories surged to the forefront of his mind.

"I don't want anybody to treat her differently as a result, she cannot spread it to any of you and likely is very sensitive about it. Based on her interview, her meeting the Spider was her trigger event so unless she is the one to broach the topic do not bring it up."

The woman's firm look said enough, and most of the Wards nodded. Not that most would bring up Trigger Events either.

However, it was Vista who spoke next, concern evident in her voice.

"I thought that the Spider messed with people's powers?"

Miss Militia nodded.

"Ordinant appears to be a rare exception, we think that her powers slow down and partially counteract the influence of the crystal."

"Is there any chance of--"

Miss Militia ploughed on, cutting off Vista.

"Watchdog speculates that there is a very low chance of her power going out of control like most parahumans who contract the disease, yes. We would not put you at risk if we thought that she was a danger to you all."

It was hard not to remember the images that emerged from after the first encounter with the spider, of parahumans warping and changing as their power went out of control. Quite what happened or exactly how it worked was a question but it was enough to have the Spider declared an S-Class threat even without its incredibly dangerous offensive abilities. The lucky ones went comatose or their power just stopped working.

The spikes of concern was somewhat soothed, although there was still some note of it among some of the Wards.

"What can she do, ma'am?"

It was Aegis, as their leader, who asked. Of course, he needed to know, so their leader.

"Ordinant has a mild regeneration brute power and she negates powers that are used on her, she is already immune to Clockblocker's ability after her power testing earlier. It appears limited to preventing them from being used against her twice or more. Over time she might become quite useful to the team if she can counteract wide ranging master and shaker effects."

Useful, and it would explain quite how she was surviving her condition.

Dean looked away from the conversation.

A crystallisation victim might be difficult to deal with though...

He remained silent through the rest of the conversation as he considered the situation. Whether the others appreciated it or not, their new teammate would be slowly succumbing to their illness even as they worked together. Dean may not know of the full details behind a lot of his fellow Ward's, but unlike him they had gone through their own traumas to gain their powers, traumas that they all on some level had to deal with.

Ordinant would be the same.

"Gallant, can I speak with you?"

"Of course."

As the others departed Dean remained in place as Miss Militia did the same. Only when they were alone did his superior speak up again, dropping her voice.

"Are you alright, Gallant?"

"Yes ma'am."

Dean had had to visit victims of the Crystallization before as part of a PR event in a hospital.

They could still move, perhaps that was a mercy that the crystal allowed for flexibility, they could live their lives with some semblance of normality for a while and get their affairs in order. But as the condition progressed up the central nervous system their bodies would increasingly grow stiff, it was like some slow, insidious inorganic paralysis.

Panacea could not help, the crystal defied conventional medical logic. Amputation was effective if it was early enough, but in the few attempts to grow limbs they grew back crystallised.

By the time it reached the brain the mobility that they had would be gone, what little remained consumed as well until they were left fixed forever.

But their minds were not dead.

He still had frequent nightmares imagining himself trapped in a cold, crystal body, constantly screaming but making no sound.

After that he had politely but firmly informed his superiors that he would never do an event like that again and to hell with the PR, it was the first and only time that he had ever raised his voice at his superiors like that. It was also the same time when they stopped burying full-crystallisation victims and those that had been were disinterred and granted a more merciful end.

"Alright. I did want to also ask when Ordinant joins the team could you please keep an eye on her? She didn't know that she had powers until we called her in, and whilst they are not overly obvious, I think that you can appreciate that it's a little unusual... it might just be that she really did not notice them, but it's also possible that we don't have a full understanding of her circumstances."

"You think there might be things going on at home, ma'am?"

"I do not want to say yes, but if she didn't have reason to think she had triggered then she might used to being in a perpetual state of fear and anxiety." There was something else there, he could see it. There was concern within the woman's aura. He could not tell the source, but as somebody used to discerning people's emotions it was clear.

He nodded.

"Say no more. I'll keep an eye on her."

The first time Dean met the new Ward, he had no idea what he was looking at.

She looked perfectly normal, evidently not a Case-53.

But her emotions, if they could be called that, he had never seen anything like it. Not even in the most advanced cases in the hospital.

First off, her emotions were so... muted. There were rapid, occasional flares of anxiety and nerves amidst a sea of depression and self-doubt... perhaps some of it was to be expected, he had seen similar combinations dozens of times over in different individuals, to the point that he could recognise and read them as readily as facial expressions. But those emotions were a small and fragile seeming core surrounded by a vast, prismatic aura of something else, like a pearl safely contained inside an oyster.

"Hello everyone, this is your newest teammate, Ordinant."

The girl gave a wave, the others all went through their introductions. She seemed awkward, anxious? Yes, there was no faking that. Yes, the core of emotions seemed to reflect that even as the vast outer shell remained the same.

He had no idea just what the hell the larger aura was. Just looking at it made his eyes hurt.

It was the opposite of Vicky. Whilst his girlfriend's aura made it difficult if not impossible to get an accurate read on her emotions, this girl's muted core of emotions was clear as day but enveloped in something so utterly alien that just looking at it sent a chill down his spine.

"Gallant?" the sound of his name being called, well, Hero name, shook him from his reverie. Shit, how long had he zoned out?

For a moment there was no response, and then he jolted.

"... Ah, sorry, I got distracted," he stumbled over himself. This was not how he normally was, and judging by the others movements and the changes to their auras, they knew it. "It is a pleasure to meet you Ordinant."

Wait...

There was a flare of... empathy at that? The shell remained the same yes, but that pearl of an aura inside it was now less anxious, understanding had dawned in it. Oh right, it must be clear that he was being awkward to her, and now she could understand it as well.

Despite everything, he offered a hand, stepping forward. Her own took it, the vast aura enveloped him and for a moment he paused. But no, he was fine. Nothing was different.

He tried not to be one of those people that shake hands at arm's length, the sorts that his father would complain about being 'limp wristed'. Her grip was perfectly normal, her hand smaller in his and very warm.

Dean did not realise that he was holding his breath until their hands pulled apart and he realised that his vision was swimming, disorientated by the aura.

He stepped back, stepped away from her and watched as Vista swiftly drew Ordinant into conversation. It was just... Ordinant's power being odd, he should not judge, the girl had had a very harsh time if she was an Oort-Spider survivor. Nothing to worry about.

So why could he not escape the feeling that something was very, very wrong?

2.1

Taylor's reveal to the public was a rather low-key affair.

It barely warranted much attention, for how much she had stressed herself out about it.

The event was mostly closed to the public but she had been allowed to invite her father and, on her insistence, Emma as well. For most of it Taylor had sat near the back as various sorts prattled on with a long PR spiel whilst she focused on her friend and father in the crowd. It was much easier that way, to not have to look at the staring faces and instead on the familiar.

There was a lot being said but not much real substance to her mind, 'upholding the PRT's commitment to Brockton Bay and its people' was one line that floated into her ears.

She did not want to be too cynical; she was now a Hero! She needed to be positive.

When it had come time for her to make her introduction, she did her best not to sound too stilted.

"Hello everyone, thank you for coming out tonight! I am Ordinant, and I look forward to doing my best to help out Brockton Bay!"

There was more, of course. All nice and written out ahead of time, the questions asked carefully vetted beforehand and a go to response also there for any attempted curveballs. The PRT had this down to a fine art, clearly.

All in all, it took an hour, but Taylor would struggle to remember much of it afterwards.

The crescendo of flashing cameras she met with a plastered-on smile, glad for her visor.

Still, that had been yesterday.

Sat in the Ward's quarters, Taylor waited anxiously for her teammates to arrive.

Taylor was honestly surprised that they were even having her patrol, tonight would be her very first! Her superiors had said that they might have 'an alternative way for you to contribute' in the near future but it was still being considered by the people above them. She had no idea quite what it would be, but they seemed excited about it.

But apparently there was still a base minimum number of patrols she would be expected to perform, they would just be putting her on the 'safe routes'.

If they were so safe, were they just there for publicity?

Pushing her chin into her palm, Taylor closed her eyes. Everything had been such a rush recently. She was unused to change, her life for the last few years had been so static, so unchanging. After the Spider arrived, it had all started going downhill, the safe monotony of school, time with Emma and home.

But here she was, a Ward, waiting to go on her first patrol.

Taylor mentioned it to her dad, and was given a firm command to take care of herself, to get out at the first sign of trouble if needed.

She was not so sure that that was an option, Heroes were not meant to run away at the first sign of trouble, really. Well, not in public; according to the operational handbook the commands of console and superiors were to be followed and a Ward should call in a situation rather than racing off to attempt to deal with it themselves. So, if she did run into trouble tonight, they would be fine, the younger Ward would be able to get them out of trouble... unless Taylor became immune to her power that was.

She felt tired already... She had struggled to sleep last night due to nerves and anxiety, and then did a full day at school. Her breaths lengthened. It would be fine to rest her eyes for just a little time before she went on patrol, right?

...

It was rare for Taylor to dream.

For years she had been a deep sleeper, so that dreams were an odd experience both to experience and recall upon waking up.

A vast darkness filled with twinkling stars, an absolute void that the distant light of those tiny specks barely lit. A place utterly cold and devoid of warmth, filled with countless misshapen forms of ice, stone and crystal. Vast spires of the latter material predominated, sparkling and twinkling, absorbing the radiation of distant stars, growing by fractions over periods of time vast yet undefined in her own mind. Inside their vast lattice-forests moved things and lifeforms that were born, lived and died within the lightyears-wide swarm of millions of objects that was her home.

The stars surrounded her on all sides, she could hear the song of their electromagnetic waves, a constant background noise, sometimes gentle, sometimes blaring. The roaring scream of a supernova that happened only a short while ago was still blazing and dominating the song.

This was the ecosystem to which she was home and in which she had no equal.

Every couple of aeons she would take action, roaming her domain to feast upon the various life forms that had arisen and evolved over time, examining their traits and adapting them to herself. Not since she emerged had any stood above her. She was the ultimate, and between these wanderings she would rest for another few vast expanses of time on whatever rock or planetesimal she deemed sufficient.

Her domain, her home.

The nuclear heart within her core burned at a low level, as it had for so long during these periods of inactivity, capable of producing enough energy in a moment to obliterate whatever rock she found herself upon. The dark matter plankton that resided on her body converted the solar winds of the nearby star into further fuel to sustain her, teeming microscopic forms of life that grew and lived out their lives in her numerous joints and plates.

There was no need for more.

She could sit for an eternity and feel nothing but the cold serenity that was her existence. An existence without sensation and thought, yet in purpose and drive could blossom into being within a moment if needed.

Until, movement caught her attention.

In the distance, a vast distance, she could see strange forms moving against the void, a pair of long, squirming shapes that were entwining and moving around one another. In a moment she had looked back through the vast span of her existence and found no analogous existence to have arisen within her domain. Were they lifeforms that had evolved in some other part of the cloud of crystal and ice? Whatever they were, they were vast indeed.

They were intruders, though.

Rising from her current territory, she began to make her way towards them—

"--nant?"

Taylor opened her eyes. Where was she? Her eyes rapidly cleared. Oh wait, Vista was there.

"Y̷e̳̒s̸?̷"

Vista paused, evidently thrown by her response.

"What the hell was that sound?"

"Sorry, something in my throat," Taylor apologised, clearing the offending windpipe. She sat up. "What's going on? Oh wait--"

"Time for Patrol, sorry if I had known that you had been waiting here for us then I'd have sent you a message, I was just coming early to get ready..." Vista sent her a smile. The youngest Ward was a lot more affable than Shadow Stalker, and Taylor tried to smile back. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"I came straight from school, heh, sorry I was up late last night, couldn't sleep."

Had she honestly fallen asleep? That was so unprofessional! She had been hoping to make a good impression on her teammates! She was sure that she had been having a weird dream as well, something to do with stars and space... the details escaped her now.

"You still good? We're on a super safe route tonight seeing as it's your first so I wouldn't expect much to be honest," Vista shrugged.

"Yeah!" she tried to restrain her excitement.

"We've got Stalker with us as well, so don't expect much good conversation."

To that, Taylor could not really give much response. The former vigilante seemed... Well, Taylor had done her best to at least make good introductions with everyone, but it seemed that the other girl had no interest at all in reciprocating it. And life was too short, getting most of them to at least be friendly was a win though, right? You could not please everyone in this life. Maybe there were issues at home that she did not know about?

Not her place to ask.

Not at all.

She would want the same about her own life, after all.

...

Her first patrol.

The trio made their way down a sidewalk, Taylor stood between the other two as they made their way. The conversation was indeed stilted, Shadow Stalker was making few if any attempts at anything approaching conversation whilst Vista was an endless source of anecdotes and stories, some of them were rather unnerving considering her age. Should somebody that young be facing down armed robbers, even with a power?

Still, Taylor was glad for the younger Cape.

Had it just been her and Shadow Stalker, she would not have anybody to speak to.

"Console to team, any updates?"

Taylor jumped at the sudden voice in her ear, suppressing a squeak of surprise. Oh, that sounded like... Gallant! She rushed to reach up to her ear. Even if she could not do much to help with the patrol if they did run into somebody, perhaps she could act as their comms agent? They could look out for trouble and she would handle that part!

"Um, Ordinant to console, everything seems okay so far," she hurried to reply, trying to sound professional.

"Good to hear, please call in if anything happens."

Well, it is not like she could contribute in many other ways,

"Heh, not bad Ordinant, you can relax a little though," Vista giggled at the way she responded.

Taylor chuckled awkwardly and tried to change the subject.

"Do new Wards usually get put in a trio then? I mean, like I am for you guys?"

"Nah, not really."

"Oh, okay."

In the end, they did not run into any trouble and the patrol ended up basically being the three of them wandering the streets of downtown for a few hours before returning to base. Shadow Stalker seemed irritated by the lack of action, in a way Taylor could hardly blame her. She was a hero, and from what she knew, a very proactive one. Perhaps she felt shackled, unable to do what she considered her duty to the people of Brockton Bay?

If she was determined enough to be a teenaged vigilante, then she must be a good person. After all, it took guts and a serious drive to take on potentially armed criminals.

Taylor smiled to herself.

Even though she felt tired she was also... invigorated after the night's patrols, spending time with the other two Wards and doing something productive. Even if they did not run into any trouble.

She would have to tell Emma all about it! But later, her friend would be asleep by now.

Things were... they were improving, right? This was new, this was a new experience the likes of which she had not had in ages. It felt so surreal.

It was too late for her to go home; she would stay in the small bedroom set aside for her in the Wards Quarters. Apparently it was normal protocol, for them all to have a small personal space, a late-night patrol would be troublesome in terms of getting them back home, better to have the option of staying the night. She had told her father that likely she would have to do so... would he have even noticed if she was out for the night?

No, no he was paying a bit more attention now with this Wards business, and a quiet word from Alan Barnes, she suspected.

Settling down, staring at the blank ceiling Taylor began wondering whether she could customise it... it would look so much better covered in stars, like her room back home. She could already see them, hundreds of little sticky backs that she could carefully set up in the constellations and patterns of the heavens. Would she get permission? She had not seen any of the other Ward's quarters, how much could she personalise this space?

A strange sensation struck her.

She felt strangely... lost, in this place.

She would definitely decorate it, if she could.

2.2

Since joining the Wards things had been a bit different at home.

The interactions between Taylor and her father had degraded to being pleasantries and clumsy conversations over the years, where most of the time, Taylor came away wondering how she could have phrased what she wanted to say differently.

But now it was like her father was trying to bridge that gap.

"... How did stuff with the Wards go last night?"

"Fine." C'mon Taylor, say something else! Quick, add details! "U-Um, we went on a patrol in a safe area, we didn't run into trouble."

"Good." That was the first time in the conversation in which he had not paused before speaking, did that mean that he was genuinely relieved that she was okay? Wait, of course he would be. With how much he argued over her Wards contract for the very bare minimum of patrols and her safety she would hope so. It was odd, watching him at times.

"... What were they like to be with, are you making friends?"

It was such a dad question.

"I am not sure how much I can say, but Vista seems very nice! She's very mature, but helpful as well."

"She's the one who has been a Ward for a little while, right?"

"Yeah."

The next few minutes were spent in silence as they ate their dinner, Taylor mostly pushing the food around on her plate. It was not that she did not like it, more that she did not feel in the mood for it.

It was her father who broke the silence between them, clearing his throat.

"Taylor," she looked up at him from her plate. He looked uncomfortable, and stood up to get a glass of water rather than face her. "I... think it is time we had another conversation about your legs."

Taylor's heart stuttered in her chest.

"The PRT called me, they think that they may have a procedure to replace them. I know that we discussed it before... but I think that it is something that should be done, Taylor. There's a new cape who makes prosthetics in New York, which would avoid some of the issues they had in the past with using Panacea apparantly," he said. "But this cape can make mechanical legs that are as good as normal ones, they even have feeling and touch--"

Her legs.

It was a good thing that her father was looking away, else he would have seen her instinctual reaction, to curl up, to reach down.

They wanted to cut them off! They wanted to remove her legs. Leave her crippled. Weak. Helpless. Dependent.

"D-Da--" her voice was all messed up.

"I know it's hard to think about Taylor, but I can't just..." he stopped, his shoulders hunched a little as if self-conscious, or feeling her gaze on his back. "I can't lose you."

I can't lose you.

What... What was she supposed to say? Whatever words were in her throat died, leaving her choked. She knew objectively that it was the right thing to do, in frantic moments since that time she had wondered about it, told herself that yes, she would talk to dad about having them taken away. A life in a wheelchair compared to a slow, creeping death was better, right? It would not be easy to adjust, but--

HER LEGS.

It was like they were aware of the conversation, all at once she was keenly aware of the sensation of the socks on her toes, of the hem of her pants and where it sat. The cold, callous crystal at once felt so very alive that it felt just like a pair of real legs, of flesh and blood. She needed them, she walked on them. She couldn't be without them!

I can't lose you.

"I'll... I'll think about it."

It was the best she could say to the suggestion.

"They wanted my permission to begin the process, I told them yes, and I know that they are extending the offer to Emma as well. They know how important she is to you," he said in a rush, as if he had to get it off his chest.

How much could she think about it? What if the PRT demanded it for her to continue being a Ward? Where were her rights, did she need to contact a lawyer of some sort-- wait, was she arguing with herself to keep her own, fatal limbs? Her head was all messed up, on some level she had been avoiding this question since she first contracted the disease.

"I... I need to think."

She did not even clear away her meal, leaving it unfinished as she half-walked half-stumbled up to her room.

Terror, confusion, hope, worry, indecision.

Collapsing onto her bed, Taylor stared blankly at the opposite wall, eyes tracing the representation of Leo. At this time of year, it would be just about beginning to appear in the sky... But it was hard to see the stars in Brockton Bay, after all.

Taylor curled up like a dead insect, drawing in all her limbs to her chest and resting her fingertips on the crystal.

She felt… overwhelmed.

Everything had started changing so fast. After so long being stuck in place all these changes at once were too much. Taylor took a deep, ragged breath.

Why was it so hard to think about losing her legs? She had so many times before but each time she just... brushed away the notion. It would all be okay, it would all be okay, the crystal was slow for her, she could just live a perfectly normal life. Yeah, yeah! There was no need, everything was fine--

Her dad could just force it to happen.

She squeezed her eyelids together so hard that she began to see stars superimposed against her vision.

In a way that was the worst part of it.

The lack of control. For years she had had no real control over her life. Living that daily routine, that monotony had been like a safe, gentle lullaby to stop her from thinking and dreaming about possibilities, it was like a safe road that led onwards without diversion. There was no need to think deeply, she had just been able to exist within a sort of existential malaise. The crystal slowly crept upwards, yes, but it was so slow that so long as she did not look too much, she did not notice it.

And then she joined the Wards.

Even if it was a choice that rather came out of nowhere for her, and she still wondered where that moment of absolute certainty came from, that had been her first step out of that comfortable malaise, that nest of her life. And now something else was going to try and move her from it.

They wanted to take her legs.

She needed a distraction.

The computer.

Unfurling she crawled over to the seat and nestled herself within a blanket that sat on it, wrapping herself up secure in a cocoon.

Booting the computer up she briefly checked PHO and then began a deep dive. Right now, she did not want to think much, she just wanted to… exist. To drown in a sea of information and barely remember much of it by the time she stumbled to bed. Rather than think about the problems of her real life.

'Fallen abducts Seattle Ward! Manhunt ensuing.'

The Fallen?

Oh.

Those freaks.

People who worshipped Endbringers. Some even worshipped the Spider .

'After Behemoth, which Endbringer will attack next and where?'

Leviathan should be next in the cycle, another coastal city probably ruined for generations. Generations that the world really could not afford or have time for. A city flooded and eroded away or straight up sunk into the ocean. Well, in a morbid way, was it kinder than the effects of the Simurgh? Canberra was still being walled in as she glanced over the title of the article.

Frankly, whilst each was horrible, Taylor was secretly glad that the fourth Endbringer did not attack cities.

If the Oort-Spider attacked a city…

No, look at the new Hero and Villain news.

Taylor dived into research, watching videos, reading all about the newest exploits of other Parahumans. Huh, that felt odd to say... other Parahumans, she was one of them now, and she had been for awhile, she had just never realised it. Perhaps all of this fascination with learning more about Capes was just some subconscious preparation for a life as a Hero?

Idly she watched some high-level brute in Atlanta shrugging off bullets during an attempted armed robbery.

P͇͓͕͓͗̃̓̉͐̐͊̽̈̃̀ͮa̮̣̲̮̦͔̳̹̥͚͔̱̒̑̈́̑̄͊̏̚r̩̬͔͕̭̝̱̓͂̽̑ͭ̆ͫͧ̅a̫̖̣͖͕̻̦̝̱͉͋ͦ̊̂̏ͮ̽̎͑̈d͔̙̯̳̖̹̟̉ͭ̽i͚̱̱̩̟̗̥̺̠ͨͤͨ̎ͩ̐̍͂̍ͦg͎̥͙͎̭̪̤̀ͭ̽ͤ̉ͯ̒͑m̝̲͓̺̯͇͖̦̣̞̜̓̐̎͗ͮ̽̌ ͍̪͚͖̜͉͇̜͕̲͓ͭ͆ͨ̏̀ͭI͙̣͎̖͙̖͉̪͇̫͉ͯ͊͊ͪ̾̍ñ͉͓̘͔̻̺̻͍̪̝̾ͩͧ̾͋̍ͅf̯͓̝̭̞̙̬͎̬̦̪̊̂̋ͣ̆ͬl̝̪̝̩̪̖͐͊̎̇ǎ̹͕̘͔̲̳̜͍̲͛̀͂̈͗ͅt̝̝̥̜̰̖̦̣̪̓́̇̉̓̆͂̄͗i̝̲̝͔̙͍̍̊ͦ̈́͆o̰̥̠̥͖̗͙̩̫̙͛ͫ̾͗̍͗ͪ̒n̬͇̗̰̐̃ͣ̐͌͋:͇̳̼͔̈́ͨ ͎̠͔͍̒́ͮͨ̋ͅṮ̝̠̺͓̣͓͖͆̅ͯ͛ͣͅe̙̪̥̹͉ͯ͋̒̿ͥ̎̏͋̅̂m̥̙͙̯ͨͣ͌p̼̹̥̥͙̮͎̺̩̱̲̮̓ͩ̃o͕̦̰̟̬̘̤͎̙̞̓̓̚r͚̺͖̦͓͇͍͖͂́ͫ͌̿ͅa͓̼͚̭̝̦̗̭̎̓̑̋̇̆ͨͦ͋l̙̭̰̣̰̝̫ͮ̂̐̊̋̏ͯ̉͋l͖̰͖͖̩̺͖͓͎̝̯͊̉y̥̻̪͚̜͇̖̫̻̹̩̆͒ ̻̬̲̦̰̫͓̻̟̺̮ͦͣ́ȋ͓̳̼͓̒̓̍͆n̦̳̱͕̣̮̫͈͍ͮ͆̃ͭ̑ͩ̎͌̇͒ͤ̌v͍̞̼̠̠̤̮̻̯̥̉u͎̦͓͙͇̳͖̦͈̮̅͒̉̽̇ͫͫ̄l͔̞̜͉̪͈̼̉n̂ͨ͋̐ͪͤͥe̼̱͓͎̬̲̘ͩ̐ͅr̥̘̦̓ͮͅä͎͙̯̹̙͔̠̫́́ͪb͚̤̓ͦ̑ͩ̊̊̌̓̈́ͤ͂l̝̪̏̇͋ͫ̉̓è̼̗̹̰̽ͮͦ̈́̐͛ͫ́ͧ͂̈́ͅ ͍͕̲͒ḇ̟̮̻̙̮͈͓͚̾̎ͥ͌ͩ͑̒̂͛ͯ͋ȍ͖̙̥̠̰̤̖̺͖͕̲̞̑̉͂͋ͦ̚d̬͚̪̣͙͇͙̖͗̏͗̍̓ͬy̮͐͛̓̐̒ͧ͊̉ͤͤ,̩͓̮͔̤͑͊ͯͩ̌ͨ͌ ͚̲͕̱̭͚̗̥ͤ̂ͪ̑͆̋ͪ̐ͥͭ̒f̦͔̺͕͍ͧͦ̌̂̎̌ͪ̓ͅi͇͙̣̘̜͔͓̞͚̿̒͒̋ͣͬ͌ͅx̲̤̜ͤ͊͗̔ͭͫ̈́͒ͩ̈́i̦͇̭̯̝̩̤͖̎͗̉ͯ̿̆ͤ̈̃̅̀n̼ͦ͐̆͆̎́͗g̘̙͔̱̫͉̻̯̈̓̈́ͬ̆̿͑ ̣̘̬̝̙̮̭̦͖͔ͭͬ̉̔̄̃s̟̖͎̲͚̄̾ͧ̇ṭ̩̥̣͈͇͍̫̇̂ͬͫͯ̌͆ͫ̚a̯͓̬̗͍̜̠͖͎̯̯̔̎̓̀̍ͣ̑ṯ̭̫͕̲̜̺̝̻̦̽ͪ̊̄ͭ͆͋e̺͙̲̹̠̠̱͙̗̤̙̠̓ͪ̾ͬ ̭̹͓̥̩͔͎̖̰͈̲̔̐́t̓ͤͣ́͊͒ͯ̽o̺̙͙̺̺̳̰͓ͦ̏ͦͨ̿̅ͨ͑ ̖̼̲͑́̾̏͗̑̆ͧ̎̃̽fͥͤ͊ͨ̿̓̽̆i̞͐̎ͯ̔̐̒̉͊ͅr̯̝͚̦̘̝̬̘̪̳͉̳͊̏͐ͣ̇̋̅ͧ͛̓̇ͪs̘ͦ̍̋̑͆̌̓t̪͍̼̻̙̗̫̣̞̱̍ͫ͗͗ͨ̔ͬͅ ̯̮̞̮̗̹̗̮̥͙̪̦͂ͤ͑͋̇͛̅͊a̟̦͖̖̪̼͐͊̓̔̂̽͛̈́ͯw͓͉͍̥̘̻̩̝̦͗̓̈̌̄͌͒̋̀ͅa̯̪̹̼͈̭̭̹̦̗ͬͅȓ̹͔͍̞̞ͯ̌͊ͅe̬̦̭̪̦͍̊ͪ̆ͧ ̤̪̻̣̟ͥ̿̉̂ͦͬ̍̚m̥͂̍ͥ͑̅̌ͩͣ̀ͪ̒o͔͎̩̤̟̲̺͑̈́̊m̗̝̻̙͉̦͕̼̭͉̜̿ͪͧ̅̓̍͂̔͂͂eͭ̏ͦ͗͂̈́̚n̟͓͇͕̜̲ͪ̑͌̄ͮ̄̆͐̃̚ẗ̬̽̓ ̙̰̪̪̣̯̜̱ͯ̇̐õ̱͖̙̜̍ͮ̊̇̏̅ḟ̼͈̘̣̟̙̖̫͒͗ ͓̩̪͉͇̟͍̪̺̯̪̓̍ͬ̈̊̉͋͋̈́͋̏̑t̔ͥ͑͌͊̍̅́̔͊̇h̦̠ͣ̊ͦ͗̈ĕ̳̻̭̩̼̻̯̗ͨ̋̽̓ ̘͍̖̲̠͍ͧ̃͋̿͛̚d̰ͥ͒̐͛̇a̪̔͑ͪ̄̂͆ͨ̋ỹ̳͈̀ͫ̓̎͊

... She certainly did not feel like a Parahuman, still. Despite everything, the assurances from the other Wards and her superiors, both the powered and the unpowered. she felt almost like an imposter just playing the part of being a Hero without the real drive or genuineness to be one. That feeling of merely being false, not being real like a facsimilee, a bit player pretending to be important and squirming her way into their ranks like some sort of worm.

Sure, people could talk about her power being useful, but it was not really, was it?

No, more positive thinking. They had been talking about how they were in discussions, how they might have a 'project' for her soon.

Being a teenager was often about not feeling like belonging, right? She was still new to the Wards. Perhaps it was not such an unusual sensation?

She did not blink as she moved onto the next post... she had not blinked in ten minutes, even if she did not realise it.

The next video was filmed from a phone, so the quality was not very good, it was some woman in Texas who could create discs of light and throw them, like chakrams. They were fast, although still somewhat limited and it seemed that she was still somewhat new to the power, her aim was rather off. But watching an errant disc slice through a tree branch yet bounce off a window had Taylor quirking her head with alien fascination.

̳̖͙ͧ͒ͅP͇͍̬̲̘͍̬͉̾ͅà͎̭̲ͭ̍r̯̪̝̯̦͖̥͖̟͐ͬͅa̝͚̠ͬͪd̟̮͔͎̤̲ͫ̉̒̔ͣͨ̐̅̄ḭ̤́̌̒̓̾̉g̠͙̩̳̬̍m͔̘̭̹͔̗͚̍ͣ̈͆ͤͬ͋ͬ ̰̮͔̖̂͆̀̏̓͂ͮ̇̚Ỉ̻̥̦̙̹͇̮͉̻̮̩͙ͩ͊̑̌ͨͣ͌̀ͯn͉̓̍́f̰͕͕͈̣̳̾ͬͯ̆̿ľ̰̝͎̦̭̹ͫ̀̃̋̉̿͂̎̂a͔͍̮̥̩̩͌̓̃ͪ͗̐̐ͦ͊̅̒t̠̥̪̘͍̞̬̰̐̈́̃ͧ͗i̦̯͚̅̔ͫ̄͛ͮ̆ͧ͑o͕͇͍͙̼̠̘ͨn̙͓̝̞̘͇͚̙̎̍̓ͥͦ̇̑͗͆:͕͉̹͚̠̘̭͖̝͚̖͛̒͑̉ͅ ̠̺͇̭̠͍͈̯̯̰̯͚̈̿ͣE͙ͪ̂̓ͅn̳͕͙̩̤ͣ̌ͅe̝ͯͮ̽͒̿ͩ̃̔̐̚r̬̱̃͒ͥ͊ͯ̽͋̄g̦̰͙̜͇͚̎̽̆̊͊ͧ̈̂ͬͅy̝̤͔̱̆̐̊̅̽͑ͬ͂̂̓ ͓̲̘̣̠͉̩ͧ̋ͦͩͯ̿ͅm͉͍̯̺͖͙ͪͭ͒ͩ̄ͤͪa̖̬̦̜̗̜̟̗̗̩̣̐̄̈͗ͯ̂̓ͅṋ̗̗̺̆̈́͑̈̑ͮ̈́í̼͙̜̜͖̠͑͑̀̀͌ͣp͉̗̟̳̞̭͇̮̞̌ͮ̈̔͌̑ṷ̖ͩ̈̄ͯ̊̉l̫̬̱̫ͦ̇ͦ̑̐̋ͩa̜̟̖͍̜͙͇͖̞ͤ͆t̮͔̫͇̰̺͂ͭ̓̉ͫͪ̑̾ͪ̓͂i̠͍̳͕̣̙̠̲ͦ̎ͦͥͬo͍̥͚͔̯̜͉ͪͬͪ̐̄̓̇̿̋̊ͅn̞̹͈̪̖̝͙̻̲͍̖̑̒ ̼͕̬̐̆̾̓̋̽̑͐̌ͩ̐ͥf̩̖̣͉͎̭̭̟̞̜̬ͩ̾ͤ̔̏̓̔̚̚ȍ̤̩̼̳̭͎̤̹̩̬͔͛̂ͦ̈ͤͫ͒͋̓̂ͅc͚͎̐͛́ͮ͛ủ̞̤̞̃͆ͪ̾ͅͅs̩̹̤͊̿ͮ͆̋̌e͚̖̻̥̦͑ͣ́̋ͦ̄ͪd̼͙̒̄́̏̾͐̈́͊͐ ͇ͬ̚â̬̜̟̗͍̞̗̗ͣͯ͋̀ͮͦ̂̓r̤̠͎̲̹͉͎̗̭͈̉̐̌ͩͣͨ̆o̹̖͈͐̔ͮͦ̿ͮ̄͛͋uͮͥ͑̾͋̐n̤̪ͬ̑̀̿d͍̻̭͉̞̯̓̓̈́̈́̑̏͊ͨͩ̽̔̔ ̗̗̉͊̈́̊̅d͔̦̗͗͛̇͂i̯̹͙̗͖͐̂̀́ͧͬ̍ͦs̠̝̝̻̻̥̠͓̮̺͙̑͒͆͊͒̉͌͗ͧ̀ͯͣͅc̗̭ͭ̀-͉̪̣̒ͣ̋̃s̻͇͔͆͐̐͂͆ͤ͒̀̃h̞ͮ̒͛ͩ̎̆å̲͍̺̪͙͚̗̞̙͆͆ͧ̓͒ͅͅp̗͎̱͇͉̠̠̥͇̼̈́ͯ̂̍ͩ͗̓̾ͤͅé̤̖̘̗͉̫̻̈́͐d̙͈͇̖̩̣̭̠͖̹͕͌̇̔ͭ̓ ̘̘̃h̳̳͎̰̅͛̈͗ͣ͂ͪ̈a̩̪̖̩̩̝̠͖̅͊̈́̔͛ͤ́̈́ͩ̄͋r͙͚̙̫̤͎̭̣̎͗̋d̼͉̣̟͑̽ͤ̉ͤͤͥ͋-̞͉̝̾̇̓̎̐ͥ̉͋ͧͪͅl͖̥̺̜͇̳͇̰͉ͪͭ̿̋̊ͤi̻͖̞͒͌̽̑͌̀̑̌ͣͮ̽g͇̼͎̦̰̺̠̣̲͛ͫh͎̰̖̟̞̟̘̙͒ͨ̌̀ͅt̺̏ ̲̱͎̪ͨ͛͊̂ͨ̐͑̚e͙̠̯̖̖̻̎ň͉̪̗̻̲̯̻̞̋̀̌̅e̯̠̳̖͓̓̅͆͌ͮͦͫ̒ͪͧ̌̚r͕͎̪̖̳ͧͨͦͪ͐̍͛̂̈ͨͅg̠̦̓̒y̪͍͓̠̖ͣͯ̒ͣ̿ͦ̌̊̈́͋ ̜̮̹̘̤͍̬̞ͨ́͒̏ͤ͐̄̂ͬp͔͋ͮͮ̎ͭ̆̓͊ͨ̓̑r͉͍͓̜̰̞̋̓̈́̇̇̈́ͮͫ̂ȍ͓̣͕͓̣̯̹͎̪͇ͪ͑̋ͨ͛̃ͧͦ̚j̣͙̝̘̘͖̳͎̳̪̲̔̋e̳̱͓̠͇͇̲̮͙͗̈͆͆͐̔̄̋̔͆ͫc̯̥̪̭̬̯̝̯̦̫͆ͬͫ̽͑̎ͭ͑͋t̙̘̠̩͆̎̑̇̍͋̋ͨi͇̞̹͆̌l͍̦̜̓̿ͦ̒e̯͂͋̎ͦͭͣͪ̒s͈̳͓̬͚͖̯̟̘̝̥̏ͧ͒̍.̯̱̝̬̻́͑́͋̍͆̐̑́ͨ ̬̦̮͇͓̬̩̩̮̯̈́̉̐̑ͅC̰̫̎̌͊ͥ̋͆͌͛ͦa̳̰̭̜̜͈̳͓͕̗ͦ͐ͨ̓ͯ͂̏̆̄̚n͖̬̬̖̖̈́̓̇ͥn̺̝̞̱̐ͥ͋̓̾ͯͯ̉̋ö͕̥̳̥̪̹̈̏ͥ̈̊̿ͩ́ͩ̿t̻ͨ̈͒̾̋ ̘̙̟͎̲͌͛̄͗̿̋ͭͧ͋̽̒ͅẖ̮͎̤̬̉ͦa̪͇͍͚͖̟̹̩̳̝͉̭̐r̙̖̩͉̺͚͙̻̆̈́͂ͅm̘̘̫̝̣͍̝͑̄ͬͭ̐ͤ͋̃ ̭̦͖͇͖̪͖̺̮̩̭̅ͭͪͥ͛͊͒ͥͫs̲̣͎͓͕̯̫̬̦̖̜͎̈́͌ͣͦ͆i͇ͯ̔͛ͪ͛ͮͧ͋l̺̠̪̜̋̋ͣ̾̔̄ͮ̃̇ͬi̥͇͚̩ͫ̓̍̚c̤̹̝̜̪̹ͩ̄̌ͤo̱̼̤̬̹̖̹͉͖͚͔ͣ̈́̍͑ͨ̈̐̎̾ͅn͉̞̣̯ͬ̑ͪ͂ ̹̦̮͊̓̀̄ͅb̻̣̭͓̒͛̓ͭ̿̅ͣ̅ͦͅa̱͑̓ͫͮ͌̈̏̓͋͂̏s̳ͯ͗̓ͦ̍ͣ͊̊̈͋̚ͅe̞̙͕̙͓̮͙̰̟̝̜̊ͤ͛̾̊̈̈ͅd̬̥̞̱̫ͬͨ͂͊͛ͣ ̤̱̞̫̞̆̔́͋ͥl̥̙̻̤̟̭̳̉ͯ̏̂̀̔̊ͅi͓̭͇̞̘̘̼͚̟̯͛͂ͪ͗̚f͖̜̔ͩ͛̈́ͥͦ͋͊͐ͤ͛ê̺̤͔͔̖̞͚̯̐͗́̈̄̽͋͆͗ͅͅͅf̬̩ͣ́͐̏̒o̫͈̠͖̻͚̱ͫͭ̔ͬ̄̒͆r̳ͬ̒m̥͈͇̄̑͌̅̽ͤ̃̋ͣš̖̺͇̝̰̥͎̜̯̟̳̒͆͌̍ͪͩ͋͛̚.̖̭͇̮͙̬̠͙̦ͧ̓ͩ̓ͨ̎̆ͧ̽̉ͅͅ

She drew her legs up, sitting with them to one side and a hand reaching down to drum against the crystal as she continued to watch.

Tap tap tap.

The powers that she was watching were starting to make more sense now. Once, she had simply watched, simply perceived and taken it all in, now she felt far more in control. She could speculate on how the powers worked to her heart's content, watching the videos and wondering whether her power would even be able to interact with them. Could she, for instance, negate those discs of light if they hit her? They would do nothing to her legs if she dissipated upon hitting glass, but would she be cut once and then become immune to them?

If, with time, she could become immune to more and more powers, what was her capacity for growth?

Was her power weakened by having to fight off the crystal?

Another video. A man who needed to drink blood before he could activate his breaker state and transform into some manner of half-man half-vampire bat creature. He was a villain, although a small-timer who did not really contribute much to his home city's Cape scene.

It was a shame that her power could not really do more to help her be a Hero.

In a hazy state between being awake and asleep, she really did wish she could do more.

̱͖̦̜̖͎ͨ̍̓̃ͥͬP̬̹̫̳̼̞ͮͣ̿ͅa̼̬̫͙͇̯̭͕͉̠ͮ͒ͫͅr͚̙̃͐͂̾̏͒͐ͩ͒̊̌ͧa̯̬͕̲̰͕̮̤̯̝̼ͯ́̌̑͌ͮ̑̄̄d͈̩̗̰̰̺̜͍̟͛ͅị̦̟̪̯̳͔͙ͫǧ̟̗̩̝͈̝̐̔ͤ̿̒ͣ̄m̥̗̖̹̰ͫ́͒͑ͯ̔͂̅ ̥̮̬̿̆ͥ́̐͑̽̐̚Ï͇̮̤̫̬̽͋̔̋̈́n͎̮͛̈f͚̼̜͇̦̣̠͍̺̃̐̔̊̽ͣ̂̂̃͌l̖̮̻̲̐̊ͨa̙̳̙̤͉̠͔ͪ̉ͪͦͭͫ̚t̖̝̝̼̗̼̖̼̖͑̇̔i̭̤͕̎͐͆̄ͪͧ̓o̼̠͒ͭn̬̠̖̮̥͎̈́̄̎ͪͬͅ:̪ͯ͗ͨ̓ ̼̜̫̦̿́̎ͪ̓ͭ̄̃̓E̬̝͍̝̜͋́̆̉̏͋̉c̣̭͈̙̹̖͔̾͊h̯̫͕̺̞͖͔̮̖̩̳̹ͮ̒ͯ̾͆̈͒o̖̻͛̏ͤ͌́̓ͨ̂͆͌̊̚l̖ͥͪ̽ͅo̘̜̮̲̝̼̺̠̻͙͊͑̊̄̉̌̈́̾͂̾c͕̯̞̤̼͎̦͈͚̳͂ͤ̑͑a͕̺̻̤ͨ̃̌͊̆ͯ̏̚t̟͉̗̝͉̖͎̠͇̙͎̄ȉ̗̠̻͙̠̠̟͎̞͖͐͑o̥̟ͭͩn̦̲̙͚̤͛ ̗̭͈̯̠͕̞̥̦͉̎c̪̊ͫ͂ͥͧ̉̓̂̆o̟ͯͣ̒ͯ̿͗ͥ̐m͕͚͕̝̩̙̪͔̻̆ͮ̈́̊b̪̜͚̬̰͌̔ͯ̅ͥͤͪ͋i͔͓͇̺̪ͬ͆̓̂ͧ̂͒̒ͣͅn̼͍̩̰̼͔̞͆͒̈̂e͙̙̖̙ͣ͛̄́ͭ̊ͬ̐ͭ̉̚d͎̥̖̺̣̰ͣ͂͐ͭͩ͆ͨ̐ ͕̥̤̞̥͈͇̟͕̐ͧͫͮ͆͊͋w͈̤̬̪̖̰͖̺̜̝͍̃̿ͅi̠͐̌̾ͮ͊ͭ̑͐͗̈́t͍̣̰̀̓h̼̤̣̩̳̘͎͙̮̺̗ͨͬͧ̋ ̠͓͕͍̞̠̱̱̣ͫ̿ͤͤ̋ć̦̯͎̩̝͎̪̠̱̠̿̾̾͑̀̄̌ͫͮ͐ͅͅh̬͇̪̮̻͚͇̟ͬ̀̆̎̊̑̔́ͨͪ͒̑ͅi̱̮̹̫̠͎͉ͣͧ̆̊͗̈͐̊r͚̜̝ͣͬͤ̂̀ͬ͂ͦo̠̼̺̪̞̖̮̯̻͙̼ͮ̈ͣ̈́̈p̼̭͎͇̝̭̼͙̑ͣ͒̆ͤͩ̌̚ͅt̩̞͎̣͓͙̰͇̪̔̐ẻ̞̹̆͐͋͐ͦ̽̐̚r͔͈̦̝ͪ̓̍ͥ͒͒ȁ̪̪̺̰͕̭̙̦n͍̱̹̝̥̈ͦ̃̄̃̈́ͮͯ̐ͯ̚ ̟̪͚͆̄̈́͆ͥ̊̏̓ͦ̿ͅb͇̽̀̊͒ͮ̃͑̃ͭ̀͒i̭̤̠̙̹̲̣̤̻̋o̰͖̹͈͉̲̤̝̺̟̒ͧ͋͊͐l̟̤̳͔̼̯̝̲̳̰̠ͧo̗̪̰̖̜͙̼̤̞̙̤̘͂ͫg̻̘̦̺̰̲̐ͤ́̓y̱͓̓̃̓̉̃̓͐̽͊ͤ̚,̼̲̎ ̖̼̫͊l͕̟̬̭̠̦̱͇̱̿͆ͧ̉̌̓͋̋ͬ̋î͍̞͖͖̃̽m̹͓̱̤̘̖̜̟̻̤̂̒̎̈́̏͗ͧ́̒ỉ̙̩̜̺̌ͧt̳̣̱͐̒̄̋̀̍ͤ͐ḛ̳̹̹̠̝̯͕̗̠̬̾̔ͩ̓ͥ̆ͪd͇̰̳̰̬͕͗̑͋ ̤͉͉̇̈́f̝̻̫̠̳ͩ̔̈ͦ̎͌̄ͭ͌̚l̼̟͍͊̎ͪͬ̇̂̅̑i̪̖̝̯͉͙͎̲̭̱̹̎ͮ̔g̳̩͔͙̭͇̙͉̠͎͓̪̅h͓͖̘̦̬̱̼̹̱̦͍̺͌ͩ́̉ͯ̑͊ͯ̐̄ͫ͗t̯̯̗̺͙̼̤͖̰̩͎ͥ̃̿ͅ.̣̖̳̦̻̦͍̤̪͕ͪ̽̆͋̃ͫ̇̔ ̘̳̝̈̽ͣ͐ͩͩ͗Ḅ͍͍̼̙̘̱̟̪̐l͔̏͛ͭ͒ö̪̹̻̲̞͈̞o̯̜̲̟̺ͨ̌̾̐ͬ̊̅̚d̪͓̟̺͍̭̩̩̯̩̾̃̃̿̆̍ͨͨ̏̿͊͒ ̰̜̮͕͎̺͉͈̮̝̻͑̿̅͆͊͒̋̉ͮ̎͂ͅb͙̱͔̞̫̖͙̟̣̬̪ͦͣ̈a̝̗̯̲̖̬̲̯͒̋̋ͩs̳̯͎̥̱͖̬̱͔̼̣͇̉̄e̳͚̪͙̜̼̯͗̆ͨͩ́͑̚d̻ͥͬ̎ͮ̂ ̙̲̦̈́ͥ͌̇͊͒̄̾̋ͅd͔̬̤̰̋͑͛̊̄ͩi̙̰̥̖̼̠̰̤͓̼̥͆̀̑̓ȅ͚̬̙̩̳̱̠͔̘̝̅͋̈͂t͖̱̞̯̲͈ͩ̔̄(͍̟̻̹̗͈̼̊ͫ̾ͬ̐ͯ͑̏?̬͕̘͓̰̰̩̟̺͕̋̉ͦ̂͛̃ͦ͛̇ͅ)̥͍̜̝̮̼͈̮͕̹̙̥̓ ̝̯̱̼͎̯͉͚͌f͓͇̥̤̖̣̻̻̜̮̄͗͌̅̓̄͑ͨͯͩ̚å͈͖̰̗̮ͯ̈ͫ̀̾ͮ̆̐ͫ̇ͅc̭̙̦͙̪̞͍̘̙͕̠̼ͨ̾̑̄i͕̹̿̄̅̍̔̀l͇̹̠̯̮̞̲̦̰̝̹̇̍̑ͩ̾ͬͭ̆ḭ̤͈͈̬͕̾̏ͮ̐͛ͮ̓͑ͮṫ̲̫̯͂ͣ̓̚ḭ͈̖̱̘̬̘̣̱̬̉̌̒a̦͓̜̠͚͈̩̦ͤͮͯ̓͊͊ͬ̊ť̗̏̀̄̒̎̏̉̄ͭ̆ͬẻ̺͉̞͉͔͂̆ͭ͐͂͋̈́̈́̈́ͯs͖̯̜͇͈͐͂̑̌ͪ͐̎ͨ ̺͚̮͉̋ͩͯl̥͍̖̩̽̃̍͛̒ͯ̅̒̇̄̌i͖͚͉̖̻̭̤ͦ͑̉̈́̌̐ͪ͌̋̚m̜̥̣̩̳̖̭͍͇͚̖̟̃͛́̾i͈̩ͯͦt̺̩̝̺̻͈͗̽͊e̼̭͙̲̜̫̘̠̻͆͐͌̾̄̓ͨͪͭḍ̜̈́ ͔͙̱̗̪̤͚͇͖̤̩̝ͨͫͪ͊ͨ̒ͥ̔͒ͪͥb͙̓͛ȓ̼͕̣̟̲ͤè̜̣̺̐̀ͯ̈́ͥͣ̔͌ä̰̘̦̳͈̪͔͙̩͚k̲͖̰̠̱̺̥̘͍͉͎ͩ̈ͦ̀̽̉̒ẽ̥̼̠̳͂̎́ͦ̎ͧ̿͂̅ͨ̓r͓͓̞̖͔͎͐́̽̏ͫ ͙̺̙̗̄̌̾̅͌̇̂̾́͊ͬ̈́f̦̣̣̼̠̐͗ͧ̌ͭȯ͎̙̦̬̟̪ͯ͆͛̈ͤͮ̎ͧͪr̯͖̪̮̃ͤm̦̩̖̜͇̒͐͆̆.̟̜̮̯̺̪͆̑̉͗͊̓

D̝̓r͎͆o͔̊n͉̅e̲͛ c͎ͬo̜̊n͕͛n̜̈́ë̺c̻͆t͖͌ī̜o͎̔n̫̋ ř̠e̯̓q̭̐ů̟ě̯s͔ͣt͓͋i̼̔n͙̄ğ̳ a͓ͫd̪̒d̗ͥǐ̲t͙͑ī̮o̤͒n̗͒ȧ̫l͙̎ ć̻a̜̽p̦̋a̼̔c̗̐ì̜t̟ͮi̲̊e̜̒s̩̊

R̯͋ē̝̞̤͇̙̼ͪ́ͦ̾ͅq̥̯̪̳̖̭̦̰̩͚ͩ̀̂̄ͫ̑͆̔̆ͅủ̟̍ͪ̍̇̒ͫ̍̚e̺̬̥̬̲̫̖̺̝̺ͩ̆̾̍s̩͓͈̝̃̍ͯ͑̾͂͛t̩͖̟̝͎͕̏ͪ̉̎̓͆͆͑̈́ r̹͖̤̝͚̜̤̱̫͚ͦ̒̄ͨ͆̍̓ͅe̙̟͔̗͎̘̍̀͛̋̔̉ͦj̥̻͔̱͊̋̔̂̇e̥̹͑͛̀c͕̱͙̣̤͌t̹ͬe̟̰ͯ̊̐̉͑̒͒ḋ̙̼̝ͯ;̣̪̦̇̎͒̉ͤ̚ i͈̞̱̳͕͕͓̩̓ͪͮ̓̚n͔͉͇̞͚̬̋̈́ͧ̌s̯̳͊͑i͇͖̳͔̤͓͒̔̓͑̓͌̏ͨ̚g͎̻̗̰̣̞̯͔̟̯̈́̆̃̇ͥ̓̀̑ͮ͆ͫn͖͖̹̹̋̓ͫ͗i̤͍̗̟͕͉ͩ̍̌͛̓ͅf͚͇͖̤̮ͤ̉ͦͦͮi͕̙͈̱̾̔ͬ̽̎ͫ̄͊͌͊c̭̟̻̙͍̺̻̑̓͌̎ȁ̱͙̜̦͖̻̲͉̺̘̻ͭ͑ͮ̑̍ͤ͆̃͛ͣn̰̰͍͇̺̼̰̪̻̫̆ͪͥ͐ͮ̄ͣt̙̠͉̔̀̂̐͋͋ͧ͋ͪ r̭͎̜̩͔̖̖̮͎̰ͤ̋̔͑̎̅ͤͩͅis͓͓̻͔̰͚͉̟̣͌͐̍̌̓ͅk̼͓̬̭͖͕͚̝̟̅̾ o̫͙͈͙̜̹ͫͧͤ͆̉͌̊ͭͦͬͅf̝̥̦͍̬͈̠̟̬ͯ̌̅ͅ c̼͕̪̰̟ͯͦ̄͊̀o̠͓̟̝͊̾̆̀̾ͮṉ͓͑ͬͅf̣̭͉͈̖̖̭͊̊̓̆l̰̤̪̹͛͗̀͒̏͆͒i̖͇̫͈͓̪̖̭̻̙ͣͣ̏̀̍̇ͩ̋ͨ̔̈́c͈͔̯̲̱̣͎̲̘͑͐͑̾͋͋͆͐ͪẗ̜̫̹̗͙̊̄ͪ͌̆̆͆͌͑ͅ

D̰̽r͇ͫō̟n̳̒e̖̓'̝ͩs̜͋ ̻ͣa̖͗b̠̐î͉l͖̂i̟͋ẗ̻́i̲͒e͈ͦs͖͆ ͕̓ĩ͈n͉̒s͈̔u̞ͫf̬̑f̘̍i̟ͬc͈̽i̩̎ē̮ň̪ť͚ ̭̋t̹ͫő̰ ̜ͫp͕ͬr̯̈́o̤̚t̬̒ĕ͇c̤̀ṭ̓ ̟̉S͕̓ÿ̗m͈̅b̭̑i̺̅o͔̓ṫ̰i͈ͥč͓-̱ͥc̖̈o̲͐n̫̈v̗̇ḙ̃r͈ͥs̭̋i̹ͨo̾ͅń̠ ͔̔m̼̎a̹̽t͉̾e̼͒ȑ̖i̦ͯa̲̽l̬̿.̲ͭ ̞ͪ'͕ͬḞ͔A͉̓M̞̈́Î̟L̝̏Y̫̐'͇̿ ͓̋ä̭n͉̽d̳ͥ ͙̑'̤͗S̟͐U̥͐P͈̄Ë̠R͙̓I̼ͫO͖͊R̮̈́S̘ͣ'̠ͩ ̖́p͕̐l̳̔a͔̔n͕ͯn̰ͣi̝̓ň͕g̳̎ ̮̆ŕ̖ẹ̒m̖̓o̟ͬv̪̍a͉̓l͖͆.̟̚

T̠̰̠͙̺̺̥̖̎ͨͪ̐͋̈ͣ̂̐͋h̘̜̞̙͔̹͙̙̮̳̟͈̒ͯͨ̓̋͗͐̓̅̿r͇̟̣͙̰̖̘̲͕͚͊̓͒͒ͮͭ̈̊̾̍̉̊ḙ͍͕̜̼̫̍̅ͣ̈̿̈́ͧͣ̽ͣ̽ǎ̟̜̹͂̇t̙̟̰͖̱͎̬͚̓̐ͮ̏̈́͌̔ ͎̹͙͖͕̪͇̗̂ͥ̉̚i̤̹̭͇͒͒͗̐̾̂̒̅͂̇n͎͓̗͗̀ͪͬͨ͌̐s͓̠͕̑̊̽ͯͣ̏͆̓͆̇̄ͦǐ͇̼̳̹̦̼̳̞̻̥̦̽ͥͥg̫͕̳͕͚̳̰̉̅͆ͩn̗̅i̫͙̲͙̦̝̟̣̬̤͙̲̋̏͗ͭͩ͆͊̎ͧ̈̔ͥf̥̈i̪͙̘͕̪̱͕ͨ͂ͣ͑͂̋ͣͣͤ̀ͅc͙͔̜̻͓̼͖͚̜͒̊̒̎̋̆̉ͣͭ̊̆ͫͅͅa͓̻͚͉̱̬̫̙̰͈͇ͪ̏̉͆ͧͤ̋ͯ͗̉̚ͅn̯͓͔̹̰̦̘̼̮̲̉̊̅ͦͬ̏̚ͅt̳̝͔͕̩̆ͭ̃ͫ̅ͭͭ̏.̹͕̟͖̫̣̤͙̱͇̌̈́̅̀̔͌ͧ́̔͒ ̖͍̺̯͓̺̼̥͙͆̊ͧ̓͗̃ͬͣ̆P̙̝̥̪͍̫̟̲̰̭̓ͧͭͩ̄ͣͨ̿ͥͫ͗ͯř͕͖̰ͤì̮̥͎͕̹͙ͭͦ̾̉̓̅m̝̪͚̱̠̭̹̬͇̳͊ͮ͊̓̀ͅi̮̲͑́ͅt̼̮͚̘̭̬̑̀͆ͨ̄̓̎ͅi̬͕̻̻͕̤͑̌̋ͤ̾͆ͮͮ̍̃ͩv͙̄̉e͙͉̱̱̺ͩͩͤͥ̍̔̓̚̚ ̹̪̮̗̄̈̉ͅm͉̈́̾̒͑͑͒ͯ̃e͖̤̙͚͒ͨ̊̂̓̑̉̈͆ͦt͇ͫh̯͖̺̓͐̇̉ͭõ̠̼̣̳̗̠̲͖̫̘̋̔ͭ̓̚̚d̘̣̖̳̊̐ͮs̖̪͇͉̈́͐̓ͭ̔̐͐̅̍̑͒ ̹̊̈́̍ͦ̒i̟̪̰͕̙̼̺͖ͮ̔͗̿͗̐̇̈́̋ͥn͇̱̬͇̳̼͍̝̝̬ͫ̂̀ͥͤ̂ͨͅs͈͕̰̟̝̭̻͓ͤ͗̊̏͛ͫ̈̽͌u̼̰͙̎̅̓ͨ͂̎̋̐̏̈́̈ͣf̱̯ͥ̂͆̿̈ͨ̏ͤ̽̎ͤ͗f̬̟̞̜͕̖͆ͥ̆ͨͥ͂ͦ̆̊̚i̘͔̖̰̘̬̳̗̭̟̠̻͂ͬ̀̓̄̐̑ͫͬ̚c̩̠̩̣̥̜ͨͩ̔̿̽ï̝̤̩͖̯̟̟̺̘̣̝̔̈́ͭ̓̔̾̋ͤä̯̰̩͚̱̝͕̮͇̫͓̬́ͥ͌̄ͤ͒̀̀ͯ͛̚̚n̟͖̥̱̲̭̖̲͈͓̱̄ͪ͆͌̃̄t̜̖̗̜̓͐̒.̤̫̺ͮͫ̔̋͑̀̎ͥ̚ ̣̙̩̤̤̈́͗ͣ̋̃͒ͫ̉ͤ͆̅ͭC͖̝̞ͯ̑̍ͅo̪̦̳̫͈͇̓ͮ͒n̗̺̣̹̹̰̳̼̹͖̟̔̅̓ͬͫͪ̈́̉͋͋̈́v̼̩̯͚̣͍̹̻͔͙̩̏͂̓̎̎̉̉ͦ̇̓é̖̪̠̰̺̑͒͂̐ͦ̓͊̀̿͗r̝͍͉̱͉͍̘̗̄̓̊͛̉ͣ̓̚s̳̪͈̯ͩ̔̏̎ͩͫ̓͋ͦ͐i̫̜̫̻͚̩͍̲͖̮̫̲̊͑̅̇̎ö̲͇̝̤̬̯͉̬͙̻̜̗́̽ͩ͑̑̈̃n͉͖̮͕̗̗̤̺͈̝̎ͅͅ ͍̭̘̮͓̥͖͖͎̪͎͛o̖͙͙̖̘͍̗̠̝ͪf̗̱̗̙̤̜̭ͦ̄ͣ̃ͅ ̝͛̌̋̽͆͊̔̈́̐ͭ̚n̰͚͔ͨ̄a̯̲ͦ̊t͕͙͇ͫͮ̔i̜͈͍̙̮͉̙̬̞̞ͤ̒ͥͪ͗ͫ̚v͍͚̱͔̲̹͔̥̟̗̻̈́͋ě̬͗ͥ̈́̀̿̊ͧ ̦̻̠̝͍̝̙͙͎̳̜ͧ͌͗̊̇ͤͧ̔̈́̀l̘͚͇̦̤̯͈̟̗ͯ͌̀̀̋̒ͥ͂͒̌ͅi̖̲͎̝̥̯͛͊͌̋ͨ̅̑̂̚f̟̖̺̟ͬ̅ͭ͊̂̉͐ͮ̒ͯë̩͎̆͌̍̌ͫ̋̀̓f͇̰̪͉̱̯̀ͭ̓̍o͔̬̣͇̤̹͖ͤ̐̿̽͊ͦͦr̦̼͎̝̯͈̹͎͍͕̟͐͊ͭ͂ͮ̆ͦm̖̆̓͌ ̣̼̞͙̱͚̫̦̰̋ͩ͒̿͑ͪͫͬ̅̔̉i̟̥͕̬̜͙̱̪̹͆ͩ͒͊̇ͫͥ̚ͅn̖̮̼̗̜̼̪̲̥̲͎̒ͮͤͥ̀̊̐ͮͨ̓̉e̦͈̻͇͕͔͖̗̩̞͐ͯ̒̐̓ͅv͍͖̜͇̝̪̎ͩ̌͋͗̾̾̒i̬̙̯̩̭̬̗̠̬̤̠͓ͦ̈̓̓̒̎̾ẗ̪̹̻̞͇̟͈̪̩̰̬̫̉̋͗̿ͬ͛ͤ͑͐a̘̜̞̠̯̓ḃ͓̱͕͗ͥͫ̇͒̄̿͗̊ͤl̹ͣͤͣ͐̎ͯͨ̓̐̊̓͂ĕ̦͍̫̪͚͕̫̍ͯ͒ͤͯ/̤̟͖̜̜͓͎̦ͧͥ̎ͩ͒͑̈̒ͧͅp̗͍ͤ̌̆̓̓ͭͥ̋ͣ̅r̜̥͖͙̰̟̞̠̱͑̏̊̂̉̅ͬͥ̀ͮ͒̎ͅi̤̮̭̝̮͚͔̺̟̓̎͗ò̻̍͒ͣ̅̋̎ͨͪ̒r̝̥̼̤̘̯̫̠̍͒ͤͮ̏̿ͥ̓̊ͬͪ̚i͍̼ͬ̎̃ͬ̿ͣ̚t̺̮̪͇̫̻̮͆̂̃̂y̥͎̽̈́̔͌͗̊ͯ̒̋̔.̝ͨ̄̂͛̓ͫ̓͐

Barely awake, Taylor ended up curling up on her chair, slowly falling asleep in a tangled mass of limbs with her head poking out of the blanket nest she had made.

She felt better now. Assured.

Whatever happened, she would be fine. Maybe it was simply that she had sufficiently distracted herself from reality, unhinged herself from her present worries about the implications of losing her legs.

For hours she had been searching, learning. Perhaps it was not wise before a school night, but she did not feel concerned. All concerns had slipped away now. This felt natural, the vast reams of data and video that she had consumed, it was a heady distraction that did not require complex thinking.

It did not matter where she slept, she would wake up the next morning in perfect condition anyway, whether she chose to admit and think about it or not. But she didn't, because that would be a tacit admittance that for the longest time, she really had not been normal.

To the song of distant stars and supernova, she slept.

It was whilst sitting with Emma the next day at lunch that the next curveball in Taylors life came, in the form of a message on the PRT issued phone that she was required to keep on her person at all times. Whilst it had settings to remain silent for the majority of non-essential messages and calls, its loud 'ding!' filled the air, interrupting her and Emma's conversation about the perks of ketchup over mayonnaise.

Glancing down at it, Taylor shrugged awkwardly at Emma.

"Sorry, just give me a sec."

Emma did not mind, she simply nodded and returned to her sandwich.

Much of the morning's conversation had been very stilted, apparently Alan Barnes had made a similar proposal to Emma as her father had to Taylor, except that the man had made no bones about it, Emma was getting the new legs and an arm. But unlike Taylor, her best friend seemed... relieved by it. She had clearly been crying a bit, even if the redheads' ever impeccable make up disguised the vast majority of the indicators, Taylor knew them well.

Taylor took up the phone and, a little self-conscious about somebody possibly reading it over her shoulder, looked down at the message whilst keeping it close to her chest.

M.M: Hello Ordinant, please report to Director Piggot's office for tomorrow at 5:30 PM

Taylor stared at it for a few moments, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Was it about her legs? Had she done something wrong in the last few days? How could she, for the last week for all her shifts all she had really done was work on console liaising between the patrols... well that and the one patrol with Shadow Stalker and Vista. But they did not even run into any trouble!

Did she mess up on the console?

Biting her lip, she began typing back.

Ordinant: Okay, I will be there. Do I need to bring anything?

Did she need to bring anything? What sort of question was that, what could she possibly bring that the PRT would not be able to provide?

M.M: No, just yourself will do!

A meeting with Director Piggot, she wondered what it would be about? She resisted the urge to reach down and touch her legs for support. Everything would be okay, right?

2.3

Director Piggot was rather intimidating for a woman shorter than Taylor and likely, quite a bit heavier even factoring in Taylor's armoured outfit. Her lips, pursed, seemingly ready to chew her out for some wrong that she was not even sure she had performed, and her desk was both well organised but also covered with far too much work to possibly be completed in a day.

"Ordinant."

"Hello director, um, ma'am."

"Just director will do," was the prim response.

This was only her second or third time meeting the woman, her gaze was so intense!

Was... was this going to be about her legs?

"Now then, I've called you here because Parahuman Science would like to perform something of an experiment with your power," the Director glanced down to a piece of paperwork. Oh, so this wasn't about the potential for amputation? Why did that bring such a wave of relief?

"Have you ever heard of Grey Boy?"

Who hadn't! She had had nightmares when she was younger about the Parahuman, plenty of folks did, the utter horror that the dead psychopath had unleashed on others was worthy of legend, the world was a better place for the member of the Slaughterhouse Nine being dead. Well, it would be better with all of them dead and erased from the world but still, Grey Boy was a go to example of an unrepentant, evil psychopath for a reason.

"Y-Yes ma'am."

"Some people think that you might be able to help his victims. It's something of a longshot, but frankly the PRT has been trying and failing to help them for years without much success so somebody has hopes that you might."

Wow.

What... What did she say to that?

"I... um, thank you ma'am. How will this all work?"

"If you consent to it, the nearest victims are in Boston. The PRT will take care of transport and accommodation, and you would be temporarily 'on loan' to them for a few days to see if you can help. Does that sound agreeable to you? We will also be consulting your father if you give your approval before any formal agreement is made."

Consulting him, just like how they consulted him about chopping off a few of her limbs--

But if her weak, mostly useless little power could help people who were victims of Grey Boy...

She had a duty to help them! Strange, she almost felt... excited to see the effects of one of the most horrific parahumans ever to blight the face of America, perhaps it was morbid curiosity, like watching a car crash on video? But still.

Taylor swallowed.

This... was something she had not been expecting.

"I, if I can help, then I'll help, um, ma'am."

The Director nodded.

She did not even look enthused or happy at the prospect of her potentially helping those people, or was this some sort of office politics that Taylor did not fully understand?

Humans could be so weird.

By the time Taylor left the office her mind was swimming.

The Director had said that it was a long shot, so she would not get her hopes up, but if she could help the victims of Grey Boy...

Numb, Taylor made her way back down to the Ward's quarters and into the room that had been set aside for her and took a seat on the bed.

A half-used pack of sticky back stars sat on the pillow; she had been decorating in the lead up to the meeting with the Director. Now she had other things on her mind, she could not focus on completing Ursa Major.

She had been to Boston as a child with her mother once, it had been a nice weekend away, although she struggled to remember much of it.

Would she have any chance to explore the city a bit or would it all be business? Perhaps this would be a pleasant distraction, from her recent troubles.

Still...

Taking out the phone again Taylor stared at the dark screen. Should she call her father and Winslow to let him know, or let the PRT's agents and staff take care of the matter? She did not have many people to inform about what might be going on... she would leave the more official stuff to the PRT.

She turned on the phone and began typing a message to the people that would be missed out.

Taylor : Hey Ems, they want me to go to Boston for a few days.

Could she say much more than that? Probably not, but she wanted to. Emma was her best friend, she deserved to be kept updated, they had not been apart for more than a few days in the last few years, what if she had a depressive episode or a breakdown? Taylor was her person to speak to when that happened, as the only other who could really understand what she was going through in those moments.

Emma did it for her as well, when it occurred.

Biting her lower lip Taylor waited for a response, only for one to not come.

Would Emma be angry at her?

She shook her head. Emma was her best friend, she would be okay for a few days right, and if things went badly then Taylor now had a phone, they could talk! Everything would be okay.

Whilst she was at it...

Opening PHO, she began sending a message to a group she and Emma were in. It had started as something of a support group for crystallisation sufferers... although it had shrunk quite a bit by now to just ten or so, but a few of its members still messaged during bad days, to let one another vent and be there to support. Taylor would hardly call them friends, but at the same time they were still people she knew.

She sent a similar message to them as well:

LittleOwl : Hey guys, going to be away for a few days, but I'll be back soon, just wanted to let you guys know.

CreateRandom : Okay, stay safe!

Ra1ndrops : Hey, I am in Portland, if you want to meet up on the way Owl?

For the moment she left it there, Emma still had not replied.

Anxiously she sat a few moments more, then got up.

She would distract herself until either the redhead did so or something came up for her to deal with, she was not scheduled to be on console or patrol tonight, did they call her in purely for that meeting? That was a little frivolous, really. Inefficient. With the sticky back stars in hand she continued her decorating, removing her helmet so that she could see properly.

Ursa Major was completed, she would need a step ladder for Draco though, it was such a long constellation, even if it was folded up on itself.

The next few minutes were taken up with her work, before the phone went off and she hurried to check it.

Emma : Why do they want you to go to Boston Tay?

Taylor : Stuff to do with work. I am not sure if I can talk about it right now if its all approved, I'll ask!

Emma : Is typing...

Work was the excuse they had come up with to discuss Ward stuff even with the phone being secure. It paid to be safe with these things, after all.

Emma stopped typing, then it started up again.

Emma : Okay, keep your phone on though? I might die of boredom if you are away for too long.

Taylor : I will, don't worry!

She breathed a sigh of relief. Emma would be fine without her. She needed Emma to be fine.

So long as her father allowed this excursion of Boston then she would be able to go, and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to put her power to some good use.

Beside her, Agent Coleson was looking over papers.

The several hour drive to Boston had mostly been spent in silence between the members of the small group. The driver was a quiet sort, focused on the road whilst Coleson, who was acting as the official in charge of their group, was looking over all the paperwork as they went. It was an odd experience. There was a PRT trooper sat beside her with a gun, it was like she was a prisoner being transported. The idea somewhat worried her, sending a spike of anxiety through her chest.

Irrational notions of 'what if they lied to me?' and 'are we actually going to Boston?' kept coming to her unbidden despite her best efforts to distract herself.

She stared out the window as they went, watching the trees and the cars zoomed past. It was a hazy, overcast sort of day, they hit rain about halfway.

The PRT van was unmarked for security but as Taylor sat there, she wondered idly just how safe it was. Would anybody try to attack them?

Some groups would potentially be very interested in hijacking them or taking a Ward into their possession. She had not thought of it beforehand, but it certainly explained the security.

As they headed south, at a point she became intensely aware that they would be driving vaguely towards and past the Crystal Valley.

Even if it was miles away into the hills, into the forests, hidden away from view. Especially now, with the exclusion wall and constant PRT presence. There was no chance that she would be able to see it directly, right? But she could sense it, with each minute that passed they got closer and closer, she could feel like it was off to the side. If she were to get out of the van now, she would be able to walk in a perfectly straight line right to it without the help of directions or a map.

She swallowed. The point of her legs where flesh met crystal was aching.

The sudden wave of longing had her putting her head between her knees, it was the same feeling as being at the edge of a tall building, that sensation of being at a precipice, of attempting or admitting something she really shouldn't. Of course, she didn't want to go there! That was insanity, it would be her death!

"Are you okay Ordinant?" it was Coleson.

"S-Sorry, just got a little motion sick," she lied automatically.

Coleson offered her a bag.

There was a tingling sensation going up her back, a hot flush, a stress response... but she could not help but imagine it as dozens of spider legs crawling slowly yet inexorably up her body.

The sensation did not pass until they had driven past the nearest point in the road to the Valley, and for a half hour afterwards. It was stupid of her to entertain these thoughts, but to dwell on it. It was just a trick of her mind, her past trauma combined with some sort of survivor's guilt, right? The eternal; 'what if you had been one of the ones to die instead of someone else' that night.

When she brought her head out from between her knees she took a breath, thanked Coleson and resolutely stared out of the window at the passing countryside.

She would not dwell on it.

The Boston PRT building was quite a bit larger than the one in Brockton Bay, and upon their arrival there was a flurry of introductions.

A man in his late thirties, dressed in a suit with an easy-going smile offered a hand to her.

"Hello there, you must be Ordinant. I am Agent Mackey, I'll be the one overseeing your time here and your liaison with the Boston Wards, did you have a good drive?"

"Yeah, it was alright. Not much to see, the rain was quite bad."

"Heh, I imagine it's even worse up in Brockton Bay, being further up the coast?"

"You get used to it."

A laugh, the ice broken between them.

"Alright, we're supposed to dive straight into a big meeting with you at once but to be honest I imagine you might want to grab a drink and something to eat? Oh, and we have some temporary quarter's ready for as well, hopefully you will be alright sharing them with our Wards for a few days?"

"I think that'll be fine," she did not want to cause any trouble, after all.

After a somewhat brief, stilted lunch Taylor and Coleson sat at a table in an office with Mackey and a woman that she did not recognise from before. In a way she reminded Taylor of Director Piggot, a no-nonsense sort somewhat squeezed into a suit perhaps a size too small.

Also, how did the PRT have so many bland as bread offices in their buildings? When she was a girl, she always imagined that they would have big command centres like in the movies, with some big boss man shouting demands and watching a screen showing complex information that really did not make much sense to the average person.

But a lot of it was all so mundane, even here. She was almost disappointed.

Maybe the big-wig command centres were in like... DC, or New York?

The woman introduced herself.

"Hello, I am Jennifer Smith, the head of the Boston PRT's Youth Guard team."

"Thank you for having us, I am agent Coleson, and this is Ordinant."

"Nice to meet you."

"I was not aware that we would be having Youth Guard supervision for this, I must admit," Coleson said, although if he was surprised, he did not sound it. Instead, he spoke almost as if passing a comment on the weather.

"Seeing how the matter could include exposure to highly traumatising sights, I'll be making sure that everything is in line and all efforts are taken to protect your Ward from them. As best as possible, at least."

"Of course. We are glad to have you assisting us with this."

Whether Mackey felt the same was another matter, the man gave little indication either way. Did Boston have permanent Youth Guard members on staff, then? Taylor had not seen any in Brockton Bay, but then again, they were a smaller branch. However, now that introductions had been made the Boston native spoke up, taking charge of the meeting.

"Alright then. We all know why we are here but for the sake of the record, Ordinant, several groups have reviewed your file and have put forward the suggestion that you might be able to interact and stop the time-loops created by the former Slaughterhouse Nine member dubbed 'Grey Boy.' Naturally, pretty much all parties are involved in freeing anybody caught in these temporal loops, and we have been actively trying to do so since they first became a problem."

Taylor just nodded along.

"In Boston we have seven people trapped in time looped bubbles, the Nine only made a quick visit and in that time, we managed to mostly keep folk out of the way. Of those seven we think that only four can be considered to still be sane, and we're hopeful that if they can be released, they can make a recovery given a lot of therapy and assistance."

"What about the other three?" Taylor asked tentatively.

A moment's silence, and then Mackey took off his glasses.

"If we can release them and they are fine then that will be the best outcome... but to be honest, there is every chance that they will never recover mentally. We think at least one might be a case of putting them out of their misery, they've been both on fire and repeatedly stabbed for over thirteen years now, every hour of every day," he replied, glancing at Smith. "Sorry, but I am not about to try and sugar-coat it."

"We need to make sure that Ordinant is kept safe throughout," Coleson at once interjected, and Mackey nodded.

"Of course. Ordinant should be perfectly safe."

"Will Ordinant need to be put at risk at all?"

"From what I understand, you need to make contact with a power to become immune to it?" Mackey asked, looking at her.

"I think so. I mean, I became immune to one power when they used it on me by touching me, so I imagine so."

He nodded.

"We will see if Bastion and other members of the Protectorate here can provide oversight and additional protection. The first person we were going to ask Ordinant to use her power on was deemed one of the more hopeful ones, at least, she can still talk with us relatively normally despite what is happening to her."

"When are you suggesting that we start?"

"Whenever you are ready, the guys in Parahuman Science are keen to see what will happen but honestly, if you need more time to settle in and prepare yourself then I won't be complaining. Even with all our efforts it's not going to be an easy thing for you to see Ordinant, Grey Boy was a motherfuck--"

"Ehem, perhaps we should avoid swearing too much around the minor?"

"Apologies, I am more used to speaking with troopers."

Taylor nodded, reaching down to rub at her leg. Everything would be alright, now she just needed to see if she could actually help.

2.4

, 2023

#1,082

The woman in the bubble of repeated time was... on fire.

Well, within a fraction of a second she was on fire, it spread so rapidly that she must have been doused in gasoline, right? It did not make sense otherwise. She would stand there a moment and then a lit match would land on her skin, no matter her attempt to move out the way and then the flames would begin, visible to those in the hanger-like structure that had been built around her.

She burned for a few seconds and then it would start all over again.

It was... so horrific.

Taylor couldn't look away.

"Is it necessary to expose Ordinant to this sight?"

"Ma'am, this is a standard way to isolate Grey Boy sufferers... unfortunately we cannot move the temporal bubble and surrounding her with a wall would only make it even more unpleasant for her."

Smith's lips pressed together. A situation not to her liking, but also one that could not be avoided.

The trapped woman was looking their way, clearly wondering what was going on, only to be reset and looking back to where she originally was within a moment.

Agent Coleson stepped forward, glancing over the clipboard. In the moments before the match hit the woman was looking towards them.

"Miss Hillridge, I am Agent Coleson of the Brockton Bay PRT. Beside me is Ordinant, a member of the Brockton Bay Wards--" Did he have to take so long to say all this, the woman was in agony! Half of what he was saying was being drowned out by her screaming! "--We may have a way to break the bubble through the use of her power."

"I, please--" reset. "--help, I'll do anything! I--" reset "--please!"

"If Ordinant is successful then you must not attempt to assault her, we have fire extinguishers present and doctors ready to assist you. Do you understand?"

"--Yes! Please just--" reset "--do something!"

Coleson looked towards Taylor and then to the agent Mackey.

"Ordinant, if you would please attempt to use your power."

Suddenly all eyes were on her. Oh god, oh god, oh god now she needed to do something, she needed to help this woman. Taylor began walking towards the bubble; she could tell exactly where it started and ended by the dust on the floor, which could not gather within the space of repeated time but did on the outside.

Up close it was even worse to look at the woman's expression of agony as the fire started and the wailing began, the momentary tensing up in preparation for the next horror, the wide eyed, frenzied way she looked at Taylor approaching.

Was this how a man being led to the gallows would look towards his salvation, or his executioner?

Around her, troopers were levelling containment foam guns their way alongside others with fire extinguishers. There were also ones with guns, in case things went really bad. Taylor had seen people shot and killed in videos, she never sought out that sort of content but she had watched enough Cape fights in those long, long nights when she would obsessively trawl the internet to have seen people die. But she had never seen a person die in front of her...

She really, really hoped that today would not be that occasion.

There was also the other Capes, one of them, who had introduced himself as Bastion, was even the leader of the local Protectorate. Once she was at the edge of the bubble, she was spooked for a moment when translucent force fields suddenly began appearing around her, forming overlapping layers with the only gap being one wide enough for her arm. It was quite clear what she was to do from here.

Fervently, she hoped that nothing would go wrong.

Taylor reached up and began pressing her hand forward through the gap. It stopped against something, and then she pushed--

P͎̱̰̪̻͈̄̀̓̈͆͑̉ͥ̾͒a̹͇̱͉̪̅ͪ̓́͛̍ͧ͌ͧr͍̯͚̙̳̞ͣ̃͐ͭ͗͆̓̚a̼̖ͥ́̉̓d̖̅̊̓ͅi̮̺̳̮̱̬̳͎̎ͅͅĝ̬̩̣̎̍ͯ̃m͉̱̩̺͗̀̃̑̓͗ͭ ̠̻̮̘̬̈́̈ͧ̾̉I̺̙̐ͨ̇̋̽̄ͩͤ̈n̤̫̰͗̌ͦ̎̿̚f͍̞̱̜̠̫̣̖͛͆̈́̽ͭ͛̈͂ͪͤͅl̯̑ͭ̉̈̓a̠̦̼͍̣̠̼͉̾̄̓͂͗t͖͎͈̣͖̩͒̈ͭͨi͖̯̣̯̟̥͉̳̖̾ͧͮ̾o̬̗͔ͧ͐̃̇ͤn̹̟̝̜ͮ́ͦͭ̐.͓̹̉ͬ̀̓͑ͣͪͩ̑ ͕̱͔̜̙͔̓̆̑̍̈́ͬ͑͊Ǎ̪̤̞̱̳͇ͩͬ̏̓̔͒ͨ̑ͅn͇͚̖͓ͫͮͭ̄͒̄̐͛ͧ̽ͅa͉̋̐̈ḷ͇͎̬̞̻ͦ͑̇͛ͪ̂̆̆͆̏y̪͇̺̲̭̼̗̼͗̽s̮̖͎̬̫̻̜̙͊̊͐̀ͪ̽i̟͎ͪͮ͛͒s̜̣̳̼͚̜͇̅ͮͨ:̰ͯ̈́̐̇̉ͅ ̪͗ͧͤͮ̀ͤỊ͖̬̱̹̹̼͌ͅm̭ͮ͆͒̓m̘ͧ̓̏̑͋ͧͮ̃̏ͥo̬̖ͬͧb̖͉͎̭͕͈̞̆̾̊̇̃ͣͨ̃̚i͖̠̪̝̎ͨ̈́̄l͙̗̪̰̮̄ͧ͋̔͋̔͗̆ͭ̚ė͉͔̭̾ͥ̿̍͆ ̻͔̼͗t̩̠͙̏ͥ̒̍ͨ̔̚ị́͑͋ͬ̾m̺̠̗̤̱͇̣̊̔́̅̓̏̓e͎̠̊ͫ͑̍ ͍̩̟͕ͣ͊̉͛̓ͩl̳̖̱̺͎̻̤̦̭̮̈ͩ͑̓̾̈o̪͚̲͕͈̲͕̓͋̾́̓̆̎ͣ̓o͖͍̗͊ͪͅp͔̭̝͙̮̹ͪ̄͗̌͐ͅ,̮̳̖̮̯̮͖ͪ͛̆̂ ̯ͦṡ̮̫̓͆̎̾̀͊ͯ̊t͓̱̘̱̱͚̜̰̦͎̒ͥ̽ͯ̂̓a̞͍̖̗͕̳̦̯̬ͣ̊͗̈͂̈́̅͒̚b̪͇̪͊ͨ̃ͬͫͬi͍͎̻̦̦̐̒͛l̙̫̈́̀̊ͪì͙̗̪̙̎s̫̙͙͙̟̺͇͑͑̇̐̆ͥe͉̭̫͎̗͍̙̝̫͉͛͛ͭ̏́ͩ̆͒ͮ̈́d͓͕͙̪̘͉̙͙͋̿ͣ͒ͧͭ̚ͅ ̝̦̭͇̪̗̪̜̰͗̆́ͥ̆̆̊́͋͌l̙͓̣͖̲̙͇̪̥̟̑͌̿ͪ̔͑e̫̖̲̯̫̠̺̭̘̐̈̒n͈̠̭͖͉ͤͤ͂̆ͯg̝̲͖̬̪̣̓̎ͨͦt͇͖̰͍̯͙̏̈́̔͌̂͑̍ͅh̗̞̺̬̹͖̲͉̹̀͊͆̑̒ͨ ̬͓͈͕ͤ͑͋ͅà̰̙̰̼̣͍̪͈͍͊ͤͅṫ̼͈̘̖̖̼̮ͯͫͅ ͓̰̱̣̾ͯͯ4͍ͭͮ̐ͩ.͉̫̪͋͊9͖̝̫̯̥͙͕̝ͧ̾̇̓̀ͥͧͥ̑2̲̪͙̤̈̃͌3̫͍̺̭̗͖͖̞̾̍ͪ̓̊̋ ̹͒s̺̮̖͎̮̪̈̐ͩͣ̌ͩe̤̹̝̐͊̈́c̪͓̉͛̔̀ͥ̽͛̐o͖̻͖͔̼̬̱͈ͥ͊̎̚ͅn͚̮͎͚̖̼͎̐̊ͤd̤͈͓̺͓̯̭̜̣̭͐ͧͭ͌ͫ̐͊ŝ͈͉͍̬̮̰̙̬̠̣̇̈́ͩ.̮̦̯̟̖̼̗̹̲͊ͤͦ̓̾̈͐̚

Her hand pushed in, she stepped partially into the bubble as far as Bastion's shields would allow. The match was flying towards her even as her honey brown eyes focused on Taylor. Those same eyes widened; Taylor's mouth opened to make a sound as the sensation of pushing past the bubble of time hit.

The woman caught on fire as Taylor's hand paused in mid-air.

No, no why was it not just cancelling it all out? Why could she reach in and not just break it! She had to help this woman, she stepped further in and grabbed at her arm, pulling. The fire caught, Taylor could feel the flames, she tried to pull her out--

Time reset; Taylors arm gripped empty air.

D̀ͅr̼ͣọͨn̩̅e̱ͯ ̫ͪr͎ͤẻ̖q̠̃ú̙ê̟s̯̚ẗ͓́i̪ͮn͉̐g̪̔ ̯ͬa̳ͫd̦͂ḓ͂i̗̽t͖̔i̜ͥỏ̥n̟͗a͈̿l̺̉ ͎͛c͎̃â̰ṕ̗a͓ͧc̳̒i̠̋t̆ͅi̟ͣë̘s̪̉.̼̄ ͍̍D͙ͮr̻͐o͕͋n͙͌e͙ͫ ̱͗p̞̚o͚̒s̅ͅi̪̓t̯̀s͉ͧ ͉̥̃̌͡͞a̝ͧd͇̒d̼̏ị̾țͩi͉̽ò̻n̥ͯa͙͑l͚̽ ͎̇a̟̓c͉ͨc͎ͧeͥͅș̆s̮͋ ͙̐t̟̃ǒ̘ ͖̅d͔̿a̰͐t͍ͥá͓ ̩͊t̖ͪh̻̚ṛ̓o͚̿u͕ͫg̟ͯḥͬ ̫ͫe͉͂x͎ͭṕ̜à̩n̻̎d̫̓e̼̔ḍ̾ ̬ͪc̩̾ȃ̼p͉̆ä̰c͓̉i̝̾t̠͐y̼͒.͍͒

R̲͖̱̻̩̮̦̓̔̄͛ͫ̏̇͒e͎͉͉͇̦͉̯̿̈́͒j̲̳͔̮͂̉͒ͦͮ͒̏e̖̯̳͋ͭ̇ͬ̑̈́̚c̥͖̙̙͒ͣ̇t͉͕̱̰ͣ̓͆ͥ̈́̏e̯͍̦͈̫̪̰͒ͨͬḍ̮̞̥͈̟̹̰̜̣̭̺͑̂ͧͮͩ͑̔͂̅͒̿͗:̼͇͓̭͇̹̽̀̇̑̋͌ͅ ̩͕̫̮͈͓̪̣̙̱́̓ͨ͗D̦͍̰̬̙͉̲̜͓͖̰̯̍̆͛̍̂̏̎̎̋a͈̙̫̖̻͇̟̫̹̗͈͌̋t͕̲̺̠̱̥̐͛̓̾ͨ̎̋͆a̞͐̍͛̃̊͊ͪ͑͆̀ ̯̗̯̝̰̜̬̭̠̗͌͋̀̾̀ͧ̈́ͦ̈́ͯͤͥͅg͖̰͚̰̭̬͚͈̣̺̔͗̄ͅạ͙̱̦̬͒ͧ̿̋̀i͔͚͛̇ͫ͛́n͎͙͓͔̘̘͙͒̓̉ͪ͆̽̎͐ͫe̹̰̙͔̠͇̙̺͙̼ͩ̉̿̃d̖̈̄̃͊ͦ̈̃ͫ̂͋̏ ̞̝̠̭͇̩̰̻ͥ̋̓̂́̽ͮi̺̥̱͙̦̻͂̏̎̍ͧ̈́̔̐ͣ̑̃n̹̜̤͎̱̱̜̲̋̆̽ͅs̼͖̜͇̟̭͍̯̖ͫͯi̻͉̱͇̬̻̳̋ͬͦ̌ͩ̄͑̋̅̋̌̚g̙̰͈͙̙̳͓̗̖̭̲̹ͪͣ̆̊̆̉̂͋ñ̯̦̫̱͇͉̰̎̓͒ͥͤ͗ͯi͓̰͚̟͉̩̹̖͙͍̲̣͊͊ͩ͆̾̑͌ͤ͛̐ͥ̚f͍̘̗̐͂̀̂̏ͯ̅̽ͤ̈́ͮ̚i̙̒̉̿̓͐͆̊̚c̙͎͉̅ͬͮ̈́̈́͐͑ͪͭ̆a͉̙̣̼̓ͫ̍̎ͪ̌͂ͯ̅ͬ̊ͭͅn̳͆ͭ͒̀͆ͬ̈̿ͤ̚̚t̞̼̳͖̭͙͆͊̒ͮ̃

No no no no--

She had to help! It was the right thing to do. She reached again, tried to pull the poor woman from the bubble even as Taylor half stepped into it, pulling her as quickly as she could only for Elinor to be stopped by some invisible barrier, as if the bubble of time greedily wished to keep her inside--

D͕̀r̻ͤo̮ͤn͚̅e̬̐ ȑ̙ḛ͌q͇̔ű̳e̥͛s̝ͭt̪ͮi̬ͩn̪ͥǧ̗ ä͓d̺ͨd̜̐i̞͂t̩͋i͎͌o̹͂ṋ̌a̜͐ľ͉ c̥ͤa̳ͦp͖̆a͈̓c͈̔ī̟t̤ͬi̳͂è̲s̲͛.̩ͯ M͎̑ȏ̰r̪̓a̺ͥḽ̏ ö͓́b̆ͅl̤ͭi͈͊g͉̎a̻̚t̺ͭi͍͐o̥ͨn̪ͬ o̮ͣf̩̓ d̥͋r̰ͨo̼̐n̹ͭeͣͅ.̯̂ E̩͛m͔ͮo͎͋t̫ͣȋ̬o͖͂ṅ̺a͈ͯl̰̋ i̺̓n̜ͥṭ͌e̜ͦg͓͆r͓͆i̯ͫt͖̉y̖ͦ o̥ͣf̳͌ d̜̓r̦̆o̺͐n͍ͯe̹͛ ȁ̺t̟ͦ r̥ͥi͉͌ṣͪk̪̏.̟ͫ

R̫̺̺͕̭͍̪͍ͩͩ͋ͭ̊͂é͎̤̭͗͂ͦ̌ͣj̰͉̻̯̝̖̏̊͛̿e̺̣͖ͣ̆ͥc̥̠̠̖͓ͩͯ͑́t͓̬̤̟̊̋̓̅ͦ̒̈͆ͭ̓e͇̒̓̌ḏ̜̣̗̗̭̼̦̾:̰̯͚ͯ̚ ̙͙͊̐͗ͤ͒̇"̱̣̪̮̱̻̝͇͉̬̌M̲̙͚̣̩̜͇̓̉̒ͧ̋͗͊̚o̭ͨ̓̈́́̃̀̓r̙͉̙̱̜̊͊̆ͫ͋̋͗̄ͬ̏ȧ̜̝̱͓ͨ̀̏ͭͦ̽l̳̠̙̼͛ͧ̐ͥͫ̊͊̆ͣ͊i͓̾ͥ̊ͧͣͪ̆̚t̙̱̤̬̝̭̳͎̤̀͒̆ͪ̋̑y̪̥̜̠͇̆ͣͤ̌ͪͨͣ͛̚"̹͎̱͎̘͔͙̃ͯ͆ͪͭ͒ͥ̓́ ̝̣͍͇̖̜͙͍̞͓̇͗͆͗i̦̜̫͍̩ͧ͐̌̃ͨ͊́ͅn͓̟͉̯̱̹͗̈́̇s̩͙̾͋́̿ͤ̈́͒̈i̟̰͖̺̮͎͖̠͋g͕̩͚̦̫̲͙̪̖ͧͣͣ̋̚n͖̠̺̺̺̱̜ͩ̓͆ͯͣi̻̮̪̤͌f̟͍͍̯͛̎̆̎̊̿ͅi͍̬̟͇͔̿͋͐͋ͣc̦̫̣̘͇͔̟͕̟̓̿ͤ̑a̙̟̖͓͇͋̾̿ͨ̈́n̞̻̪̮̊̽͌̏͛͛t͈̠ͦͧ̃ ̫̜͈̘͚̜̯̞͔ͥ̌̾ͥn̼̂̐ͯͭ̂ͫa̫͇̠̮̱͇̣͍͉͊ͫͪͮͥ͑̌ͅt̺͚̙͎̖̍̽̄͐ͅĩ̜̫̤̞̇ͩ̓̐̐͋́v͖ͯ̅̽ͯͤe͔͙̦͆̒ͯ̋̆̃̊ͩ ͉̊̿͂ͣ̍ͫs̞͙̳̜͚̔̀͒̍̾ͅp͉̪̱̼̲͊̓ͣͭ͌ͥ̚e͌ͧ͗̓̐̽ͯͅc͎̥̫̤̩͚ͮ̍̎ͮ͒̂̿̓ḭ͕̣̲͓̫̪̩͕́̇͛̿̉̚ͅẻ̖͍̮̬͓̝̳̦̌̅̓̌̈ͯs͓͉͍͈̺̪͎̑̅ͮ̇̈ͯ̔ͮ ̙͑ͪͯ̈́͆c͎̻͙̖̙̞͔̿̿̓̽ͭő͉̟̖͕̺͛̔̄̅͆͑̚ͅn̪̯͕ͯ̄̊s̹̮̺̪̰̫̝̈́ͪt̼̳̮̪̃ͥ͑̓ͅr̘̫͎ͯ̔ͯ͛̆ͣù̩̈̆̀͆̓͌̑̔͋c̫̙͔̠̠͖̫̦̱͉̎̍ͪ͌ͮͩ̾̔̈̑t͙̣̫ͫ͗.̞͎͚̣̰̬͍̅͋̉͛ͮ ͇͉͕̩̲̜͎̩̈̊̀̾ͩ͐͆̆̐̈E̮̙͉̖̤͙̤ͤ̆ṁ̞̗̰o̻͇̤̬̹̱̍͐̓ͯt̬͚̪̻͚̗̦̂͆̃̌ͮ̊̎́̎ͫi̻̞̱͕̝̿͋o̦̞̗͉̺̟̤̼ͣ͆̉̄ͩͤͧ̄ͤ̚n̘͙̙̬̭̼͖̰͛ͮͪ͛̔̓ͩ̿ͥa̻̪͐͐ͤl͖͈͉̟͔͐͊̓̍͋ͮ ̜͈̹̞̪̳̐ͣ̑̒̈́ḯ̘̎̂ͩ̅ͧn̫͔ͪ̂ͩ̆͗t͖̠̃̍̈́͐̀̆̃̏̉ḛ̦̥̮͓̪͔̟̈̊̆̅ͨͣ̚g͖̞ͨr̤͉ͫ̾͑̋͌i̜̟̋̃̌̂t̩̯̳̗̞͔̰͗ͮ͌y͇̦̜̲͚̳̠͊̓ͮ̈̎͊͋̂ ̖̝͈̑̅ͯͣͧͯo͖̬̥ͣ̿͋ͩ̓ͬͪ͛͊f̠͔̆͂͆͗̒͐ͨ̅ ͔͕̠̝̖̞̏̍̍͂d̜̮̝̙̥̪͔́͊̐̈́ͪ̄ͨͬ̈̿r̘̥̮̗̐̎ͣo͇͔͎̙ͤ̎̈́ͣ͒ñ̺͕͖͙̟̥̤̃̾̅̇ͧͪ̈́ē͍̭͕̰͓̪͔̲̻ ̙ͥ͗̌̈̑ͯ̇͋s͍͔͙̼̽͆͑̅͂ͅu̪̻̗͉̰̠͊̃͌̑̍̃s̭̟̙̟̺̖̖̪ͬ͆ͣͬ̒̍t̥̤̣̤͇̬̥̯̼̑ͥͅà̱̙̞̝̮̺͚i̲͇̘̓ͫͬ̈̃̃͛̄̇n̲̤̲͖͇͔̯̰͑̀ͦ́̏̄̚ạ̬̜̹̦͓̾̆͐̔̿̀ͩ̄͐̒ͅb̟̰̤̣̯̟̣̹͉̱̋̐̓ͮ̔̽̈́ͩl͓̘̝̞͇̥̺̲̎͛͗̿e͕̱̠͗̄̽ ̠̖̜̯̗̫͐t͇̏̓ͬ̐ͤͣ͐ͭ̓ĥ̰̘̳̖͚̺ͪͯͦ̏r̯̻̦͂̉ͧ͊̍͛͌́̄͐ȯ̘̮̮̹̩͒̅ͥ̃ͣ͛̿̚u͖͂̋̈̿̍́ͥ̆ͣg̟̘̗͍̱̱̱͌ͭ̏ͤͪ̚h̥͉̩͒̚ ̻̱͓͙̙͚ͣͫ͑̆ͦm͙̳̞̰͈̺̼͍̱͛̐̓̿a̱̠̪̟̝ͪ͛ͭͤͤī̦̥̌̉͂̊n̘̋t̥̫͈͇͙̣̝̘͎ͩ͛̋ͅa̘͈͍̼͍̮͈̣̻ͯͯ͋̾ͅï̯̗̮̬͚͈͍͐͐̅̏̄̐ͮñ͈̖̬̤̬̦̘̺̓̌́͊ḙ̥̑̾̈́ͩ̉ͨ͌̾n͈̯͚̺͔̳͈̦̂̑̐ͯ̌c̲̪͚̽͆̅̎̃͒ͯ̅e̥̦̯̤̱̳͐̐̔̎ͯͯ̚ ̳͚̦̼̪̩͐p͖͚̦̙̠͖͓̫̪̈r͖̼̖̱͚̻̭̱̪̄͆ͪ̊o͚ͫͤ̐͒̑͛t͙̙̱̬̖̲͆̿̂ͪo̝͖ͮ́ͪ͛̾̾̏ͩċ̼͓̣̤̲̦̳͕̭̋̑ͫ̏ͭͅo̞̪̙͙͉̼̳͍͆͂̚l̤̘͙͔͖ͫͬ̇s͖͔̒ͧ̄ͦͤ́

Come on, you useless power!

She refused to come all this way only to be able to do something, anything to the loop and then be thwarted! She knew that her power should be able to interact with this! She could hear people speaking around her, a voice that sounded faintly like Colesons was speaking up but she could barely hear it as she focused and tried to do... Something

She was not sure what.

Beg her power to work differently? Demand it?

D̬̦ͣͤͅr̗̗ͤ͐ͅo͉̿ṉ̉̚e̝̼̼͒ ̠̣̎ͭ̂d͇̦͙̎̈e͔̮̲ͩm̺͛̈́a͉̠̩ͦͧn͚̒ḏͯs͇̄͊͑ ̰͔̐ͮ̄ǎ̺̣̳̽̍d̘̘͋d͕ͬͣi̝̞̻̎ͤt̜̮͂i̜̝͔̚ò̭̱͕̚n̤̭̫̈̊a͖͖͍ͧ͋l̮͎͎͗̂̔ ̬͍̰̃̂͗c̝͍͍̽͛ă̮p͓̠̅ͩ͒a̠̦̳͒͌b̝̥̥ͣi͖̗̱ͦͭͩl̺̥̗̐̌̒ȉ̺̞t̯͐i̘̮ͣ͗e̺̫̜͐s͎̙͔̿

Ṛ̻̆E̪̫̘̤̩̟̰͕͎̅ͩ̃̋J̠̳̙̋ͪ̈̅ͯ͗̔́̊ͤ̃̄Ȇ̲̥̼͉̗̼̪͕̖̪͒̂ͫ̈ͫ͂̿́ͩC̟̥̭͙̼̤̥̤̟̜̮̬̎̉̂̈͐ͩ͆̒̾T͈͍͕̞͎͓̲̪͇͓̒̓ͨͯ̓ͥͥE͎̟̹̘̙̬̳̬ͣ͋͋̓̀ͭ́D̜̺̠͔͍̱̀̉̈́̒ͯ̐͂ͅ.͕ͭ̾ͬ̆̎̀̑ͣͫ̚ ̪̻͓̗̳͖̪̩̠̗̾̆̌̑͋̈́̾Î͎̞̹̲̜̱̝̇̐͒ͮ̀͂̚N̦̈̇ͣ̊S̺̯̻̰͚̖̩͙̪͎͔̓̄̐ͤ̅̾̾͛ͧ͆͗I̠̻̹͍̪̻̳̳̘̗͖̻ͭͭ̓͊̂ͬ́̇̚G̺̹̲̪̥͕͈͓̹̦̥ͬ̒ͦ̚Ń̻̮̯̎ͩ̊̈́ͬ̚F̯͎̬͖̭̮̲͓̬̣̱̙̑̒I̞̜̪̖̺̮͋ͬ̔C̜͍͈̝̞͍̹̘̲͍̼ͤͩ̓ͭ̽Ä̪̙́͐̆͊̅̉͐͛N̞͓̹̗͔̥̫͈͖̮̙ͧͅT̝̟͇͕̣͕̩̦̤͂ͯ̍

D͍̘ͯr͕̮͆o͙̲̍̔n͓ͬe̺̽̈ ̲̈́͐Ḓ͊ͮ͆͛͋ͯ̈́̍Ẻ͔͂͆͑̒ͯ͛ͣͥM̠̥̻̝̳̼ͪ̎̒̃A̮̟̣̭͈̬͎̫͇ͧͪ̆̒ͤͩ͊̊̚ͅN̜̥̳̉ͭ̿D͚̜̞̣͇͚͇ͩ̓̏̅S͍͖̭͔̣ͭͩͣ̄̽ͫ͒̊ ̳ͣͪa̻̮͐d̠̖̑ͨd̝̿i̜͛t̤͔̊i͙ͩ̽o̯͓͂ň̪̳â͎̜ͥl̲̟̒ ͔̏c̗ͥ͂a̤ͤͯp̗̽a̮̣͂̿b̤̒͒i̥̿̒l̯̣̂i̩͊ͭț̯͊̍i̜͇͋̑e̜ͥs͕̃ͤ.̰̠̏ͥ ͔ͤD̜̣̓̂r̳͐̍ŏ̮̩͛n͙̆ë̞͓ ̦͆ͧw͖͌i̱̾l̠̿͑l̗̗ͩ ̝͊"͈͙̉ͥI̭ͨ̌m̩͛ͧp͖̌r̺̗̆̈́e̮̋ͅs̟̦͌̓s̗̺͂"̥͕̈́ ̲ͬs̟̻ͮu͖̬͂p͇̱̌ͨe̺̔ͮr̮̙ͩ̔i̲̫̊o͉̯ͮŕ̘̘̿s͓̑̚ ͕̣ͦ̌a̰̬ͯ̈́n̟͖̏̋d̙̞̒ͭ ̮̀g̬̅a͇̅̾i̺ͫ͊n̖̗ͦ̆ ͓͑̒a̱̤͂͛c͖̐̍ċ͙̫͋e͇ͩ̋š̲̫s͚̒͑ ̻ͤt͇̅o̞̥͒̉ ͕̍i̱̖̔̚mͮ͐ͅp̟̜̚r͕̲̈ò̺̱͂v̖͂͌e͚͌͑d̰̋ ͚ͫ̀ď̳̔a̟ͣt̯͇̆a͎̥ͬ̾

̙͉͔͖̬̭̪̺̩̫ͬͩ̇ͦͪR̮͎̀͋ė̫͗ͫ͐̉ͤ̎̔-̣̗͚̯͊̽̈̈́̃̚e͇̟̹͗ͪ̂̑͊͌̀ͧv͇̬͕̙̰͉̱̭̲͓̹ͬ͛ͫ̈́a̦̼̟̫ͩ̏̍̒ͫ̄͐ͯ̈̚l͚͉̣̺̙̞͗ͭͧ̉̌̓̓u̜͎̖̳ͦa̜̥̣̪̓̀̇̅̓ͦ̃̅t̤̼̠̤͉́͛ͫͨ̐̈́͗ͧi͙̬̠̤͇̗ͫ̔ͯ̿̇ͅn͉̘̈ͯ̍̓͒́̑̋̾̚ḡ̻̲̗̣͈̤̖̩ͮ͋͋̃ͭ̚ ̞̺̜̺̩͚̍̈ͧ͒̇̌͂d̟̫̖͚̓͛̀͐ͫ̆̈́̂r͓̖͍͈̙̠̩̤̤̣̩ͥ̑ͤ͗̅͐ͪ̈́ͫo̝͇̟̞̺͕̭̤̖̭̫ͫ͂͊ͩ͂n̦̪̼̰͎̩͆ͩͤ̔e̜̤͇̓ ̝͕̩͖̰̗̔ä̝̺͍̜̻ͫͭ̎ͬͥ̋ͫ́̂ṟ͇͈̮̼͙̱̊ͧ̚ͅͅg̰̜̦̮̃̏̄ͫͪͮ̏̏ͩu̥͗ͨ̄ͯͯͨͧ̔ṃ̥̯̣͉̫̬̠̿͂ͤ̎ͧ̚ĕ̦̳̞̦̺̭̖͂ṇ̖̗̰̭̥̻̳̗̠̰͒ͯ̔̆̅̉̿̄͑ț͎̲͌̔͐ͯ̈̉͗;̱̘̊ ̘̝̝̱͐ͥͪ̎ͬ̈́̋̄̊̽̓ḟ͙ͥ͊a̞̥̝͐̓ͧ̐̓̀̚c͓͖̤͉̠̲̝͙̻̣̿̔̿̇̐̂̒ͦ̒ṯ̤̗͙̯͚̓̏ͧͭͩ̋̈̚o̩̱̞͇͉̞͍̖̝̰͂̅̔͐ͮ̃r̺̜̝̦̚i̟̰̩͙͐ͯ̄̃ͭ͛́͊n͔̂͆̿ͯ̾̎g̫̥̺̱̻͍͓̈̓̔ͮ͊͗̆̐̆ ̞͉̼͙ͨ͂ͣ̿ͫͣ̉ͦ̏ͭ̐i̳̗̰͚̲ͩ͋̊n͎͓͍͍͚̙̦͈̽͑̌ͥ̑ͩ̍ͮ͋̃͐ͅ ̞̙̺͔̿̾ͨ̋ͅd̟̠̣̩̜͉͇̲͎͂r̻̩̝̼͙̮̤̍̾ͮ̽̌̒̐ͯ͒ͤ̐o͉͚̰̘̹͈̠͔̭̣ͭ͂ͫ̒ͪͅn̻͕̹͓̈́̏ͦ̎e͔̘̠̱̼̹̥̻͎̜͕ͪ̋ͤͨ̊̿̊͋͂͋ ̝̰͙̪͈̳̞͕̪̹͑o̭̣̰͕͕̱͖̘͎͍ͬ̂ͧ̏͆̽̉ͬͅb̟̻̥̯ͯͪ͂ͥ̐̄̊ͩ͂ͥs̙ͣ͆̅̈́̈́͛é̞̱̮͇̦̯̲̤̼ͭ͛͗͑́ͫ̚r͙͎͙̰̄ͫ̏̉̚v̬̊ͯ̂̑̃ͮǎ͍̲̯̬̖͈̙t͓̬̝̎̅̊̍͐ï̫͒̊͒̄ͨͣͤo̥ͬͨ̅̐̓̀̍̇ͧ̚n͙̪̤̥͇̫̣̒͌ͦ͆̑͋ͪ̔̒ͧs̳̹͕͎̠ͤ̈́̾ ̰̤̻͈̰̥̊̿ǒ̮̭͎͚̥͖̪̩̖͕͆̍͋̓͑̚f̻̺̭͖͋ͅ ̩̲̭̱̞̅̐͌̅͛ͅn̼̫̘̦̝̠̱̫̅ͭ̌a͉̅̿ͫt̮̤̲̫̭̙̊̐ͥi͓̯̓͂̿ͪ̄̓v̥̰̊̈́e̺͚̼̊̃͆̒͊ͪ̆ ̝͍̦̰ͮͩ̈́s̯͈̯͚͇̎ͨ̌ͯ̓ͫṕ̠̗͓̥͎̙̳͖̭̘̓̌ͩ͑e͈͐ͦ͒̄̆̓c̲ͣ̂ͤi͚̮̺̮̬̞͍͓͕̩͈̊ͪ͊͌ͤe͚̠̤ͤ̓̐ͮ͛ͪͣ̚s͕͈̯̦͖̞̿̐̆̽̏̑͐ͩ̊̎͋ ̲̣̣̹͉̃b͓̩͈͓̺̹̫̹̒̇͛͑ͅe̫̯̳͍͚͎̺͎͇ͧ͆͂͆̅ͥͭ̀h͙͔͓̼̝͇̗͚͔̰̟ͧa̜̺̩͇̙͇̠̥ͦ̔͒͗̉v͖̱͖̦̜̦̻͓ͬ̐̈̀i̝̇̈̌̅͋̃̈́̐̚o̱̱̯̥̖͌̚u͉̬̿̏ͥͭ̄ͪȓ̟͔̯̺́͋̌ͥ͌̇͗̃s͖̙͛́̌̅͆̚.͖ͥͧͣ̂̆̆̂̿ͮ̈̚ ͖̍͛ͧ̓̿̓̏̓ͥR̥̟̗͓̪̭͙̝ͪͧ͌̅ͪ̓ͮ̓̄ͦͭe̲̐̅ͬv̺̱̙̘̼̗̫̫̈́͐̈́ͬ̂ͩͩ̓͂i̝̭̤̥̼ͭͪ̂e̞̺̙̫̬ͪ̅̀̆̀ẅ̖̞ͪ̆ͬ́͒ͨ͗ͨi͈͕͕̞̟͉̾ͥͫ̐n͉̤̦̬͕̩͈̣ͥ̚ͅg̞͕̈ͩ̅̊̎̏ͪ̐͋ͫ̇ͅ ̦̝̪̩̰͈̣͈̤̪͇̍͐ͮ̎'͈͇̗̘͍͖͙͉̯̄h͇̹͚̹ͬĩ̼́͆ͫͧ́̓ͩe̖̭͖̯̠ͨ̿͛̄͐͋͗ͮ̏r̥̮̻̫͕͎͋a̱͊̈́̃ĉ̪̲̬͐ͬ̒h͎̰̱̬̻̗͍̪͔͉̍ͫͥͣ͛͆̈i̼̦̦̯̩̬̫ͩ͋̐ͮe̥̘̠̋ͥ͂̀̈́̽s͈̋̇̆̚'̼̝̖̘̮͎̔ͩ͋̍͆̓̉ͩ̆͗ ̝̱̻͈̹̪̮̯̥̰͔̆ͧ͒̓ͯ́̓̄̔͊ä̲̞͚̯̟̜̝̳͍̓̿ͥ̂̽͒n͚̱̄ͧd̹͕̥̜͔̖̰̟ͭ̈ͥ̄ͯͩͣ̿̆ ̟̦͎͉͙̺̥̜̣͎̾̎ͅ'̲͓̣̫͉̺ͤ͊̂̽ͬ͑̊̾̒P̲̹̟̪̘̉̏ͫͧR͍̬̼̹̗̰̓̾́̆ͫ̓̈́T͍̖̥̺͙͊̒̓͛ ͕̜̤͕̜̓̆̒Ḧ̻͕̯̻̻̰̰͎̜́̃ͥ̔ͤ̉̐͛͌ͅa͍̼̺̘̝̓̑͊̓n̫̜͓͎̲̑̓͑̏̎͂͌ͪ̾ͫ̾d͙͐̓͆͌b͚͔̯͈̍̃͗ͤ̽ͤͫ̋ͥo̫ͣͤŏ̱̻͕̟ͤ̆́̐͂͋̑́ͭk̖ͬ́̇̽̀ͥ͆̃̚'͖̾͂̌͐̚

E̜̤͍͔̟͑̀̓n̟̳̥̳̱͇͋̀̿ḡ̼̯̮͖̓͋͂͊ͬ̀̇a͉̙̪͖̮͍̳̤̝̼̔̾̔͐͑͌ͬ͂g͓̻̀ͯ͆̑ͩͯͮ̑i͚̦̦̽͋͗̚ͅn͕̥͈̯͈̩̖͇̘̹̈́̋̑͛͊̊̊g̦̓̿̎̈́ͪ͗͂̚ͅ ͈̍͊ͪ̔͂S͕̠̭̞̣̠̞̫̑̽͌t̳̭͈̞̻͎͒ͤã̫̺̪͌̔̇ͥ̒ͣͭ̄r͖̬̗͇͓̖͔͉ͨ̏ͥ̏ͨͨ̈́́̏ͅr̲͓͕̮̱̥̹͐̽ͬͧ̋̿̍ͨͅî͎̰̤͈̮͔͓̬̪̄̉̎n̺̼̩͖̾̾̓̑ͯ̃g̥͓̦͓̩̯̔̊͋̔͛ͣ̔̔̌̚ ͈̭̠͉ͨͤ̍̍̂̊̏͛I͙̺̱͙̭̤͚̐ͪͣ̐̓ͯͬ͒ṉ͎̮̖̠̰͈ͨͪ̿ͅͅv̦̟̦̱͎̳̜̖̆ͬ̐ͣã͉̥̋̏̂̈́̿̾̅̇d̗̉ͫͮe̳͖͓͕̘̘̠̹̊͗ ͙̻̹̘̥̄̔̔c̞͌͌̅̽ͩͮͧͮ͗̓a͕͚̪̦͕̪̫̞̥̓̈́̐̾̑ͭͣ͋̚p͔̯̪̳͉͚̝̾̑̑̃̌̚à̲̬̼̼̼̰̭̹̬ͪ͗̅̎c̭̠̰̰̬ͧ̔ͣ̈́̇̍͐͌̆ḭ̼̺͐̑̎ͤ͑̄̅t̹̟̭̠̎ͨ̒ͣͫ̓̄̊ͦy̳͓͔͈͑̇ͯͩ͒͛ͥ͌̐.̜͎̘̙͕̼̟̱̐ ̫̪̲͕̠͊Ḻ̜̟̫̞̗̘̄ͭ̋͌͐ͅi͖̞͇̫̞̻͎̣̺ͫ̔̏̈͑̓̆̔̑͆m͓̰̮̗͚͋ͅi͕̳͙͈̼̲͑ͦ͌͂͛ͣͩṫ̘͖̱̪̠̤͌̚i̬̇ͤͨ̋̊ͣͬͅn̯͖͎͌̋̾̓̎ͩ͌͛g̹͉̜̱̻̹̪̋ͣ̍͑̃͌ͫ̎̊ ̗͍̼ͨͧ̈́̊d̦͍͇̘̯͔͈͈̔̓̏ͥ̅̚e̳̰̳̜̫͉̝̓̽̿̍͊ͬͧp͍̗̼̱͔͙͈̘̓ͤ̍l̞͖̤̻̳̦̠̭ͤͥ̓o̭̟̪̘͙̣̖̗̲̿̇̅y̥̦̪̹̥̫̦͂̈́̊̍̅m̘̬̜̱̗͚͇̂̈ͩ͌͐̓ͥé͚̼̞̩̱̺͎̬̓̆n̪̳̉͌t̜͒̑̈́͑̿ ̩̻̺ͮͨ̾͑̄ͧ̋ͭt͉͍̯̟̯̝̰͓̲̉͌͋̈̉̄ͥ̉ͣ͒o̹̬͙̜̯̻̦̙̅̓̃ͮ͑͒ ̹̮̹̘̘͈͎ͦ̈́̄̐̿ͩͣ͑a̗͒̆ͣ̇͊r͓͎͔͖̩̓ͭ̂͑̀ͣͥ̔̚e͚͐̎ͣ̓͑̎ͫ͋̽a͕̩̲̩̫̰̰͈̱̟͒ͪ̆ ̪̻͚̖͔͍̺͊̀̑̀͂ͮd̺̣͌̊͒̅̎̚i̦̗̮̳̐̃r̗̘̿e̺̘̯̹͒̒̍̅̊̏̈́ͮc͈͍̝̳̃̽̉͊t̲̦̮͖̭ͪ̅ͪ͗̇ḛ̩̗͖̮̩̰̥̓ͫ̅ͬ́̈́̄͗d̗͔͒͌̌ͣ̓ͦ͒ ̪̟̝͉̝̣͓̯ͫ̍ͩ̎ͩ̍́ͣb͙̞͈͇̫̖͍̝̲͖ͬͯy̥̜̪͂͗ͫ͒̽̄ͤ̂̉ͧͅ ̖̪͇͔̱͚͖̬̯͂͌̂̇͆̈́̈̍̚ͅd̠̣̺̱͍̣͍̻̉̾͗ͤ͛͐̓ͫ̚̚r̺̥͉̭ͥͪ̀ͨ́͆̊̒̏ọ̝̻͊ͪ̀̈́̐ͨ̉ͪ̓̓n̯͈̙̮̘̭͉ͬ̾e̞̺̙̖͍̋ͣ͒

D̝̜̬͍͑ͩ̊̐ͅḛ͖̜̰̜̥̭͚͇̾͐̒̽̉ͨ̽̚ͅp͍̼͋̓͆l̞̣̄o̗̗͈̤̯̠̜̝̞̠ͤ͐̍̊ͥ͋͑̏̑̚y̲̼̙̠͍̅̏̈͑̔͂͗̾i̞͛̔̃ͬ͆ͣn̼ͣ̿̒̚ğ͙ͤ ͍̝̤͍̽ͧ̐̈́͋Ș̤̭̫͚̞͗t̻̣̰̣̺̻̮̳̯̘͒̿̾̓͑̃̂̋ͪa̹̬̳ͨͩ̒̏ͦ̎̽ͫ̓̚r͕͉̎̽͐̑̒̉͛̈r̙̲͍̩̟͚̮̯̙̈́ͭ̀ͦ̏̏ȉ̼ͥ̆̏̈̿́̄ͪn̬͓̦̜̫̓̒g̜̘͍̀̆ͮ̓ͭ̍̍͊ ̠͉̩̲̼̮̫ͣͮͤ̂̔̌ͧ͌Ḭ̬̮ͧ̽ͪ̔n̞͕͎̪̗͙̩͛ͤ͐͋v̩̦͓̜̬͓͉̝̈́ͯͧ͆̿̅̃͋ͬͅͅa͍̭̣̟ͦͦͨd͉͔̝͔͓̬͈̼ͣ͛̎ë̮̓͐

Something happened.

The bubble of time and Bastion's shields disappeared as Taylor stumbled, caught by surprise by a sensation she could not necessarily describe for just a moment she felt utterly right in her environment, utterly at peace as the laws of the world were reset to something more familiar. In that moment there could be no bubble of looping time, no floating shields of light from bastion, everything was as it should be.

A universe in perfect harmony with all its rules as they should be.

The match hit and the fire started to burn before a wave of white struck both Taylor and Elinor, a wave of dry powder from five directions that smothered them both. It left her blind for a few moments, her ears were filled with the sound of the extinguishers and voices, shouting in the distance.

"Thank you!"

Suddenly, there was a pair of arms wrapped around her.

"I--" Taylor, quite overwhelmed, felt a head beside hers, pressing against it, forcing it to the side. The arms were hugging her so tightly,

"Miss Hillridge, please let go of Ordinant at once!"

The troopers were there again, fire-retardant blankets were being thrown around the woman's shoulders and head to smother any remaining licks of flame that could reignite her. The woman was okay, she was free. Taylor could only blink as, automatically she brought up her hands to give her a tentative squeeze back.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou--"

"It's okay, it's okay..."

R̼̈͐̊ẻ̜͔ṣ̱͉ͦ̈́c͉̲̜̬̼̫̪̲̼͖ͦ̉ͨ̃͒ͦḯ̞̘n̝̘̥̦͔̤͎̽ͪ̐̓ͯd̹̺̠̱̹̘̹͉̪ͣ̄̆ ̱̞͈̜̻̱̌ͫ̑ͤ̉ͫͣ̚S̗ͥẗ͚́̽ȃ͍̞̞̹͉͙͑̾ͯr͍͇͔̙̐̓͒̑͋̾͑͊́̈r̝͍͈͎̲̈́̔i͇͕͎ͪ̔͐n̼ͨ̉̈́̅g͕̜̫͙̳̏̍̐͛ͫ͋ͪ͊̚ ̣͈̺̣̇̒̆̌͂̌̐I̞̩̍̔ͣ̽͂̉̍̚n̠̭͕̣̹̦͚ͯ̅ṿ̖̻̪͉̯̰̗ͭ̊͗͊̂͌͒ͧ͑̋a̺͎͐ͬ͊̐̈́̃ͮ̚̚d̝͔̱̲̙̯͇ͯ͛̌̐͒ͤe̞͚͍̩͉̹͇͍̝̔͛̄ ͓̦̮ͦ͒̋ͅc͙̰̬͉͓̱̣̳̰̈́ȁ͚͖̠̻̺͐ͦ͆̎̈ͯ͋p̙̺̭̦̪̖̓ͨͨ̒ā̼̥͕̜͈͖ͭ̐̍ͯͭc̻̭̋ͣ̇ͪ̎i͔̼͓̤͓̩̰̯͈͛ͨ̉̍̉̽ͨͧͪ̆t̪͓͈̪͙̦͗ͯͤ̿ͧy̬͆͗̑̽ͥ͂̍̔̓̇?͕̃̚ ̱̭͙̪̗̖̑̆̈͗̿̚R̻͇̳̫̓ͧͧ̃̓ë̯͓̘̼̾ͯ̋̏͌ͣ̂̐j̦͇͕̜͇̈̿e̗̗̼̗͇̖̭̖̙͛͑c͎̗͔̖͖͚̻̒͑ͪ̔̈́͌t̞͕͉͚͔̖̤̻̊ͭ̌ë͕̍ͅd͎̯̼̗̗ͪ͋̇ͣ̒̎̀.̟̣̟̹̱̼̻̞̍̍̅ͥͅ ̝̩̰̜͕̻̹̒̈̋̈́ͥ͌̌̀͗ͅE̼̪̭͈̯̊̎ͦ͐͗̌̅͐n͚̞͇ͧ̎̏̍ͭͮͣ̆ͭf͚̞̬̥͔̠̘̜ͫ̏̿o̱̟͉̰̥͕͗̓̊̾ͪͭͤ͛ͅr̻̖̺̲̯̫̩̪̻̈c̝̫̮̻̣͎̈́ͥ̓̓ẽ̻̰̘̱͖̺ͯ͗ͧ̊̈͗ͯ ͎̻̦͕̦̥̗͊ͨ̇ͣ͌̍ͩ̐S̳̪̩̯̱̩̲̗͊ͭ̔̊͌͒t̰̓̑̎̿͌̐̆ǎ̺͙̏͐̓̐́̈́̏̍ͮr̦͙̂̔͒͆ͣ͋̈͒͂r͉̱̖̟̙̙͙̳̺̜̄í͈̟̳͕ͣ̉̾̏̋̾̄̚n͍̹̖̖͔̙͐̑̔g͕̥̲̣̠ͬ̒̄̔̐ͮ̓̚ ̮̤̜̲͙̮͊ͤͮͤ̋ͤ̍̃I̫̦̝̗̪͈̤ͯͧ̌̑͋̑͛̚n̯͂ͣͥ̂ͭ͑v̼͔̞͈̠̯̇ͯ̇̓á̮̯̻̟͎̺̩̘̯ͬ͐ͣͪ̽̉̏d̠̹̻̦̑e̮͓̱̯͎̼̻͕͓̩ͭ́ͭͭ̃͌ͯ ̞͇̳̦̋̑̽̚c̗̟̥͇͍̟̞̃a̝̯͉̩͈̺̮ͮ͐͌ͭ̂́ͬ̎ͨ̿p̲͚̦͔͉ͭ̈́ͣ̐̂ͅͅa̳̘͍̘̟̿ͧ̎̌̾ͬ̽c̰̖̼͔̻̭̪̼̄̒ͅî̪̩͙̖͕͎̠ͥ̔t̻̙̼̰͕͍̤͇̦̻ͭͪy͉̦̮̜̝͚̰̌͗͒̇̿̆ ̣̤̣̫̹̫̬̹̉ͣ̾̎ͯ͗̐̃͑o̹̠͉͖͍̜͓̟̳͇̔̌̌ͬ́̀̏͒ṿ͉͖̭̯̝̹͐͐̈e̬͉͈̱͉͛͒͒̒̋̈́̒ͬr͔̓̄̊͊̉ͦ̆ͦ͒̀ͅs̝̪͚͎̰̟͕ͫ̃̋ͮͧ̎͂̚i̝̲͙̞͍̝̾̇͗̽g̥̻͂͆̃̊ͮͯͦh̻̟ͣ͊́͐̄̄t̪̞͖̝͗ͭ̐̃͛ͭ́ͪ̚

Taylor looked towards the troopers. Some were advancing, clearly about to try and pull the woman off.

"It's okay, just... let her." In a moment Taylor felt so very... human. She reached up to pat Elinor's back and gave a gentle sway from side to side. She felt so keenly aware in that moment, despite the caution of the others in the room, but she could not help but smile as the woman broke down in her arms, knees collapsing and falling to the ground weeping, bringing Taylor down. The next few minutes the victim was Taylor's only concern, irrespective of others.

When, finally, Elinor could be helped to her feet Taylor just stood there watching as she was escorted away.

A blanket was given her, her costume was now covered in the dry powder, but she barely took any notice of it.

Taylor looked down at her hand, it looked the same as before, no different then it did moments ago. She just... ended a time loop, the time loop of one of the worst villains in America's history Just like that, with barely any effort. It was like magic, like a power. An actual power, the statements beforehand that she had a power seemed different now. It was a sharp realisation that crashed against her like a wave against the shore.

But she didn't do that with her hand, that was more like... a burst?

She looked towards the supervisor for this all.

"Um... so, it worked."

"Yes, it did."

The looks she was getting were different now. After a moment, a throat was cleared. It was Mackey.

"Ordinant, congratulations. That is the first ever Grey Boy time loop ever to be stopped."

She had never felt so... useful. Her breath was shallow, she swallowed, throat suddenly dry. The room seemed very different without the central figure being horrifically tortured endlessly, with the sound of... clapping?

Yes, clapping. Some of the troopers were clapping.

Agent Coleson looked very pleased at something; he was writing something into his phone.

"And this is the Wards' space, Ordinant."

It was no longer Agent Mackey who was showing her around, apparently the man suddenly had a 'significant amount of paperwork to do and people to talk to', as he put it. The fact that he said it with a wry, knowing smile towards Coleson, who seemed in on the joke and who wished him good luck, confused her a little.

Well... thinking about it, a person long thought to be unable to help society had been freed, Elinor Hillridge probably had family and friends who had moved on in their lives past her, only to now get a message that she was free. Did Elinor have children, ones that she might have last held when they were infants, only to meet them now as teenagers? That would be odd, to suddenly have a mother only ten years older than you.

Coleson also had a lot of calls to make as well it seemed, and could not enter the Wards quarters without special permissions from above. So, he wished her a pleasant evening and departed.

In lieu of them both, she had been left in the hands of Bastion.

She had heard a few things about the man, his powers over force fields made him quite capable and a valuable addition to the Boston Protectorate but apparently his public record was somewhat... troubled. Something to do with racial slurs.

She was not sure if she wanted to know.

There had been a momentarily awkward moment in which she apologised for breaking all the barriers that he had taken the time to set up, but the man had waved it off.

"You're not the first person to break them with a power by accident and you won't be the last," he had said.

The Wards quarters were much bigger here, no doubt because there were a lot more of them here compared to Brockton Bay, and the entrance procedure of pushing a button and waiting for a light to turn green was much the same as it was back home.

There were two Wards present to meet them, both of whom were not wearing masks, oddly.

Then again, they were also odd-looking individuals.

One was muscular and tall, with a metallic body that seemed to include several different alloys and materials. It was... interesting, Taylor had heard of him faintly... Weld? Weald? Wait no, he was metallic. Weld. Something about the sight of the metallic body made her stomach drop. Unbidden, images of that vast, featureless face, illuminated a hellish red by the burning forest, came to mind.

She could see it, facing her way, seeing without eyes, staring into her soul--

Taylor tore her eyes away from him to look at the other. Shorter, both in terms of natural height and posture, the other Ward was hunchbacked and were it not for the obvious tattoo Taylor's first thought would attribute severe scoliosis to the Ward. But he walked fine, he greeted her with a wave just as Weld did.

"Ordinant, this is Weld and Hunch," Bastion spoke up, taking the lead and indicating to them both as he said their names. "This is Ordinant, the Ward from Brockton Bay that was mentioned in the email that went around, she's going to be staying for a few days so I hope you'll both make her feel welcome and show her to room twelve," he spoke.

"Pleased to meet you."

Weld's hand wrapped around hers as they shook hands, Taylor was glad for the visor of her outfit, it meant that she could feign looking at his face when she in fact looked away. The skin was somewhat warm, although only a little of that was evident through her gloves, and he had a firm grip, the sort of grip her father would approve of. By contrast, Hunch gave her a wave and had a much weaker handshake.

"I'll leave Ordinant in your hands, good evening you two."

"Evening sir."

"Night, Bastion,"

A huff from the older man as he left, not bothering to reprimand the hunchbacked Case 53 as he did so, leaving Taylor with the two of them.

"Alright, we've got a pizza order ready to go if you want to put something on it Ordinant," Hunch said, pointing a slender finger towards a laptop sitting innocently on a table in front of the TV. "Gotta say, we don't often get Wards from Brockton Bay as often as we do from New York"

"Oh, they wanted me to do some experiments with my power," she said, distracting herself with walking over to the couch and laptop. Was she allowed to say what happened? She would have thought that she could. "I broke one of Grey Boy's bubbles," she said in a rush.

"... No shit?"

It was Weld who asked that.

"Yeah. My power is a little niche, I become immune to powers that are used on me, so I could reach in and out of the bubble and try to pull the person out... and then I kind of... broke it and all of Bastion's shields in one go?" Saying it like that felt so odd.

"Huh, so wait it's kind of like... an anti-Shaker power?"

"I... maybe? I don't know, oh god, they're going to put me through more power testing now, aren't they?" Taylor sighed as the realisation hit her.

"You better believe it!" Hunch said with cheer. "I'm a precog, kind of. I don't always have the best accuracy, but I just got a flash of some scientist in your future having a heart attack... ah, metaphorically," the said with a lopsided grin.

Taylor groaned.

In the end, she placed her order, and enjoyed a meal in relative silence with the two Wards.

Gnawing on a crust, Taylor sat curled up in a corner seat as the news played in the background as Hunch and Weld good naturedly argued over the topic of whether a sandwich should be sliced horizontally or diagonally. If her power was not just affecting herself but had some sort of area of effect, why had it never worked like that before? Was it because her power was working double time to slow the crystal?

Her legs ached, or she suddenly became aware of it, as if the crystal was complaining.

She needed to check, what if the crystal had spread faster the moment she broke the time bubble?

"Can I make calls from here? I want to phone folks back home."

"Yeah, so long as it's one of the PRT phones you're good to go."

That was a relief. Taylor awkwardly excused herself and then departed for the room she had been assigned. It was much like the one she was given in Brockton Bay, all blank, white-ish walls, a bed somewhere between a single and a double and the bare minimum of utilitarian furniture. Taylor locked the door and carefully removed the leg portions of her outfit.

The crystal had not advanced.

She released a sigh of relief. So, could she continue to use this new aspect of her power without concern in future?

She could be hope, and she put her outfit back on before she called home.

Her father picked up the house phone on the fifth ring, he must have been sitting at the kitchen table. Probably looking over more papers, or perhaps he was on the couch watching some TV?

"Hello?"

"Hi dad, it's me."

"Taylor, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I... the experiment worked dad, I did it!"

There was a pause of a few seconds. Would her father fully understand what had happened today? He was not really into the Cape scene so much, far more focused on the down to earth of real life, where people lived and worked and struggled for survival.

"Well done, Taylor," she didn't realise until then how much she needed to hear those words. Drawing in her legs she wrapped the other arm around them and brought a hand to her mouth to stop the sound that would have escaped.

After a moment to compose herself, she spoke.

"Thanks dad, everyone here seems really excited about it, they said its the first one to ever be dealt with, and when I helped her get out of it, she just broke down and was so thankful and wouldn't stop crying--" she could not help herself now, explaining all that had happened, avoiding using names of course or mentioning some of the specifics. Her father listened to all she had to say without interrupting her, letting her spill the beans and say all she needed to.

"And you were not hurt or anything the entire time, were you?"

"No! No, I kind of got covered with that dry white powder they use in fire extinguishers but no, I wasn't hurt at all."

"Good." She could hear the faint hint of relief in his voice.

For a few minutes more they spoke, she asked about him and his day, although he had little to really say about it. It was all mundane things, he tried to make meatloaf but burned it somewhat because he got distracted. That sounded a lot like him, it brought a smile to her lips.

The call ended and she spent a few minutes just... existing, sat replaying the conversation over in her head.

She was broken from her reverie by a knock on the door.

Taylor hurried to put her mask on before calling out for the person to come in.

"Hey Ordinant, just wanted to know if there's anything we can get you to make you more comfortable, the rooms are pretty bland, me and Weld have modified the shit out of our rooms," Hunch asked, glancing about the bare, utilitarian space.

"It's okay, I don't want to trouble anyone."

To that, he gave something of a grin, a slight chuffing laugh came with it.

"We just got a message from higher up saying that whatever you need, they'll get. Either you charmed them real good or they're keen to keep ya' happy!"

"..." Taylor looked around. She was not really sure how long she would be here in Boston. Just another day or two? Or more perhaps, if they wanted her to help all of the people in the temporal loops here then that might involve travelling over the city, Coleson did not say exactly how long either.

The room was pretty bare, but she could hardly ask for packs of sticky backs to make it more like home.

"Hey... you know those like... star projectors?"

"Like the kids ones?"

She gave an awkward chuckle.

"Yeah... Can I have one of those?" the other Ward didn't seem thrown off by the idea, instead he gave a thumbs up.

"Sure, I'll ask for you."

She had expected a child's toy... not what she actually got. Did the PRT appropriate a piece of technology from Harvard or did they just have pieces of equipment like this laying around in case astronomers decided to join them? Either way, it took her fifteen minutes to read the technical manual to work out how to operate the damn thing, during which time Hunch took pity and began reading it as well to try and give pointers.

It looked pretty though, so very pretty...

Could she take this home with her?

She hoped so. She stared up at it, thoughts drifting.

That moment earlier, she had felt so very natural and relaxed, years of tension that she had been holding inside dissipated. The universe had been right.

Taylor focused, desiring it to be the same way again. She did not quite know whether she had to just remember the sensation, or dictate to her power to make it happen, she just wanted to feel that sensation again, at that moment in this room--

There!

There it was.

Taylor relaxed completely as the laws of the world reset to... whatever it was her power enforced. Normality? It felt normal, it felt right to her, either way.

She sat in a world that was correct, staring up at the stars. They were not quite in the right place, to her mind. Which was ridiculous, of course they were in the right place, because what another place should they be in? The stars were both right and wrong, the universe felt at peace with all its natural laws enforced. She would have to check later to see if the crystal had advanced in this time as well.

A sigh escaped her as she lay down on the floor, ignoring or unfeeling of the hard floor beneath her.

Staring up at the teeming stars gently rotating above and around her, Taylor watched, transfixed, for hours. She had done it; she had done something useful.

She was useful to the world.

2.5

It was morning.

Taylor had woken up, had breakfast in the Wards quarters (they had her favourite cereal!) and gotten ready for the day just in time for Coleson to send a message to her phone, asking for a brief meeting before things would get started for the day.

It took place in another one of the PRT's seemingly endless collection of perfectly boring, business-like office rooms. Coleson looked as if he had been working late last night, there were dark bags under his eyes but he greeted her and settled them both down with his normal energy.

"Sorry to call you in like this, just the folks back home wanted me to ask you a few questions about what happened yesterday."

She nodded, not trusting her words.

"Your power seemed to work very differently during the interactions yesterday Ordinant, rather than affecting yourself it seemed to affect everything in a radius of you, could you explain what happened?"

"Yeah, I... don't quite know how to describe it," she rubbed at her arm and gave a sheepish smile. "I kind of just... wanted the time loop to go and released a sort of burst? It felt like I was just making everything go back to normal," she explained, and Coleson rapidly wrote down every word. Should she be being more careful in her descriptions?

"And you've never done that before?"

"No, I don't think so, I didn't even realise that it was something I could do." Even if she had, it was not like she had been around many Capes before the incident with Battery, Assault and Rune.

"So, it might be your actual power, but for the longest time you did not realise it? Is that what you are saying?"

"Maybe? I am not sure if I could say something that certain, to be honest... sorry."

Coleson simply nodded. He was adding little notes and bullet points, brainstorming as much as he was simply recording things that were occurring, and only once he had done so did he speak up again. "It is quite alright. It would make some degree of sense, a power to return an environment to normal would fit considering what was occurring at the time you gained your powers."

A power to overwrite changes to the environment, trying to fight back against the Spider...

"Nothing overwrites that place."

Awkward silence.

The words had spilled from her mouth before she had even thought about it.

"Pardon me, Ordinant, I spoke out of turn, that was wrong of me," Coleson had set down his pen. Just like when the topic of her trigger was brought up with the marketing team at once everything became very heavy. "Would you like a few minutes, or shall I continue?"

"It is okay, we can carry on."

He nodded.

"The guys in power testing will want you in again, they've already set up an appointment for when we get back."

Taylor winced.

"Your ratings are almost certainly going to increase quite significantly as well. Even without power testing it seems that you will be getting some manner of Trump rating, even if it is purely against Shaker effects. But testing shall work all of that out, so do not worry about it too much," he smiled, it was one of the few times Taylor had seen the expression on his face.

She nodded.

"Okay. Folks back in Brockton Bay also wanted to make sure that you are comfortable continuing to remove the time loops. You saw how unpleasant the situation of the victims was yesterday, and they are only going to get worse from here, I have looked over the files and some of them are frankly things you should not be exposed to seeing."

"But I am also the only person who can help them?"

"Yes."

Well then, there was no choice, really, was there? Sure, she could say no. But at the same time, she, Taylor, was a hero. She would help people. She both had a duty and responsibility to do so, and the desire to back it up.

"I want to continue helping."

This was their fourth bubble to be popped and Taylor was high on life.

Well, high on success.

The first had been a young child, although they were not young at heart any more. Shellshocked, the seven-year-old had stared vacantly up at her upon being freed and then broke down, curling into the foetal position. She couldn't blame him. Not at all.

The second was an old man who had been standing, enduring the unrelenting time loops with a frown and a sort of melancholy stoicism even as he repeatedly had scalding water thrown over him. The old man had had a heart attack after being released, but the attending medical team had managed to save his life.

Grey Boy was a monster.

He did not deserve to be called human.

So, despite the horrors of what was going on, she tried to remain upbeat. Even if these people were breaking down in front of her or suffering the after effects of years of trauma and stress, they were still being freed from their horror. She was helping them, even if she was trying not to think about what would happen next.

Somebody new had been with them today as well, a woman, Ms. Yamada. She seemed to be the local parahuman therapist, taking each newly freed person and speaking with them after their release, organising sessions and future support.

It was past lunch now, they had had to cross the city and traffic was somewhat rough, especially in a big van. The Boston PRT had upped the number of troopers accompanying them now, there were no less than four crammed into the van. It seemed a little much to her. But she was not in charge of security, so what did she know?

At least she knew that she was safe with them.

The fourth victim was a somewhat thin, weedy man with large glasses on his nose who was permanently stuck being tripped up, landing and then the process would begin all over again. Certainly not as horrific as some of the others, even if a few times she watched his nose would impact the ground and spurt blood before the next loop would begin. It was kind of pitiable actually, the man looked as though he had simply been walking somewhere, perhaps to his job, when Grey Boy had looped him.

Yet everyone seemed to be acting more cautiously, Coleson had taken her aside and explained, briefly, that before he was trapped in the time loop he had been diagnosed with a Corona Pollentia. Taylor had blinked, but nodded in understanding.

The usual procedure followed.

Barker was his name, and he was informed that a way had been found to free him. Taylor stood waiting a small distance away as he confirmed his compliance with the procedure.

They had had to change it up somewhat, Taylor was not required to get as close as before but at the same time the way her power was working now also rendered Bastion's shields pointless. He could put up as many barriers as he wanted, but if they were close enough to the bubble then they would be dissipated as well, so the leader of the Boston Protectorate was required to hang back and intervene if necessary.

It was a fact that had Coleson on edge.

A few times he had spoken with Mackey and the others organising proceedings to try and bring in some other Capes to ensure the safety of them all.

Still.

This time when Taylor cancelled the time bubble, something different happened. The man's eyes rolled into the back of his head as his previously falling body fell to the floor without attempting to stop himself.

From the corner of her eye somebody else was falling as well--

Bastion.

"Trigger!" went up the shout from the troopers in attendance.

Within a second a hand had found her shoulder. It was Agent Coleson, who roughly pulled her back and away from the collapsed victim of the Grey Boy bubble and swiftly put himself between her and the man, as if to protect her from the sight of him, yet that was not the problem, was it?

D̦̪̠͙͈̠̭̟̟̥͇̞̏͐̚i̱̟̭͉͉̮̯͓̓ͯͪ͆̾͋̉͊̾̾ͤͯͅṛ̻͓̹͓̲̰̯͚̰ͫ̏̈́ͯ̑̎͆̄̉̚ē̬̳̭͈͉ͣ̃̍ͩͫͥ̆̚c̼̪̠̳͎̍̅͒̾̃́͗̏t̖̦̝̱̗͈̠ͧ̋̏̃ͯͬḭ̘̭̻̲̮̩̏̈́̉͑ͪ̎v̬̺̬̹͈̹̝̘ͥ͆ͭͩ͂ͅe̙̜̹͐ͤͨ̾̌͊:̖̯̤ͯ ̯̼͍̰̻̝̱̘̩̙́͊͋̑͐̃Ő̘͚̍͑͛b͕̺̝͂ͤͧͮs̗͈̺̒̂̀̑͗̂͛̓̇ͫͥ̈́e̫͙̠͈̩ͦ̆r̙͇͚̗̥͚͔̤̠̭̄̋̌͂ͨ͂v̝̬̹̻̩̺̮͙̣ͨͧͦ̃͒e̙͕̬̬̺͋ͧͪ̓ͥ̇ ̫̫͇ͬͤͥ̓̊ͭ͂̒ͅͅå͔̪͇͋͊̑͋l͈̤̜̱̦̻̉̒i̤̒͐̆ͩ̂ͬ̎͋͂ͣe̠͓̦͉̘̳͚̪̯̒ͪ́̅̇̓͆͗̃͊ͫň̻̹̲͍͉̈́̈́͂̀͗̋̚̚ ̘͂͐ͯò̗̰̼̩͙͕̐͌̊r̜̦̟̱͔̺͉̻̤̆̇̾͌̃͗͂̄g̮̿ͅa̭͎̓̈́̐͊n̖̟̦̟̞͓͕͋̓ͥi̹̦̯̺͓͎̫͒̍ͪ̑͊͐ș͕̺̪͈̻̠̳̰̺̜̇̃̎ͨ̄͐m̜̤̣̫̱̘̼͇̗͌ͮͧͮ͑ͯ-̤̩̭͍͔̼̳̞̜͔̪̎͋̐̄ͤͣh͖̱͇̣̣͉̹̦͍̫̰̜̃o̱͙̦̥̭̲͎͖͖͎͎̼ͨ̔̑ͧ̓s̗̦̻̞͚̘̹̯̘̖̞̤ͥͭͫͥ̇̅͆t͓͇̦̥̤͍̒̈́ͬͅ ̜͍̤̠̲̱̔ͤ̑̿͌i̮̞̝̱̥͇̻ͮͫn̲͉̝ͫͣ́̓̿̎͒ͅt̥͔͎̞̰̣̖͈̥̋̑͐ͪ͌̍̀ͭ̈́e̬̥̼ͣ͂ǧ͍͍̲̭̫ͨr̫͉̫̥̮̐a̯͑̊̃̈́̑ͫ̌̆̈́ͩt͇͔͕̖̲̰͖͈̜̻̣̾̃ͪͣͫͧ͗i͉͔̻͖̮̩̮̤̳͊o̳͙̙̫͒̈̑͑͛n̙̪͈͎̬̓

Taylor, for her own part, looked past Coleson despite his attempts to shield her. Something strange was happening. This odd phenomenon, she wanted to observe it suddenly.

"Mr. Barker, freeze!"

The man, who was picking himself up from the floor paused, he appeared to be shaking. He looked up at them with wide eyes even as Bastion and the other Parahuman began to pick themselves up. The various PRT troopers were all jittery now, fingers tightening on foam launchers. Taylor had little doubt that if needed they would shoot at the downed man.

Barker looked around, nose bloodied from hitting the floor, eyes wide at the sight of the weapons pointed his way. He looked so scared, so pathetic.

And then--

"Mr. Barker, are you alright?"

It was the woman, Ms. Yamada.

He visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he looked around.

"I, what happened?" he asked timidly.

"You are quite safe, you were freed from the loop and had what we call a trigger event. You now have Parahuman powers, the troopers are trained to always be cautious in case powers go out of control," the woman's manner was so easy, so natural. It was as if she knew this would happen, or years or foreknowledge was directing her actions. Taylor would only watch in wonder as the new Parahuman was helped up, the situation diffused by the woman who earlier she had barely paid any attention to.

It was... fascinating to watch her work. Taylor almost felt envious of it.

Barker was helped away for a conversation, the troopers all relaxed a little and judging by a number of their reactions, they were relieved that nothing worse had happened. Their reaction had been a little... strong.

If only she could be as natural as that woman when it came to talking to people and helping them. But she could not be everything, right? It was something she had learned recently from trying to reconnect with her father, it was hard sometimes to find the right words. Some people just had the knack for it, and knew what to say in the right situation.

But human beings were so weird, sometimes they did not react how you thought they would.

Meanwhile...

"You didn't black out, Ordinant."

It was Agent Coleson, who had shifted to no longer be interposed between herself and the newly awoken Parahuman.

"I... no?" it took a few moments for her to realise why it must be so odd, didn't those little pamphlets back when she Triggered say something about that? About it affecting other Parahumans? She could not remember it very well...

"Probably another aspect of your power, have you ever been around a triggering cape before?"

"I don't think so?" But it didn't happen to her just then... "I have never really been around people blacking out to be honest."

A hum. The man seemed... suddenly taciturn. "And you have never met any other Parahumans before that day when you encountered Battery and Assault?"

"I don't think so."

He nodded, and made another one of his notes. Always noting things down, Coleson, Taylor wondered what the man's accountant would think of him. Her father would probably shake his hand, he was always complaining about people not keeping records and paperwork of things.

"Well, I shall put it down to your power rather than you having previously developed an immunity but I shall make a note on your file anyway in case anyone close to you later turns out to have powers."

That was odd. And concerning.

The last time loop of the day. This was the fifth in total but had been quite a nightmare to get to.

She was pretty sure that some of the routes taken and methods of their driver to reach the site were borderline illegal. But it was not her place to question it... and it was not her who would get in trouble if it was legally dubious as well.

Frankly she would be happy to continue into the night, but there were limits to how much of her time the PRT could request that she work in this sort of situation apparently. They were evidently keen to stay on the right side of the Youth Guard as well.

Five people in just two days, and less than twenty-four hours. It was amazing, she was contributing!

Even if the people she was helping had gone through hell. Even if they would carry the mental scars for the rest of their lives, it was her who had helped them.

They were cutting it thin timewise.

But if she could make sure that another person would not have to spend a few more hours in misery, wasn't it her duty to do so if she could? Wasn't that what it meant to be a hero, to be a good person?

A good human being?

As before the troopers went first, liaising with the site staff for this looped person, and only once there was an all clear did, they all filed out of the vans and into the hangar-like structure.

This person was having it especially bad as well; she could understand why he was one of the less hopeful prospects. Even looking at what he was going through made Taylor feel a little sick... she would struggle to sleep tonight; she had no doubt about it. Coleson practically stood in the way of her vision, and this time Taylor did not try to peek around him even as the sounds reached her ears.

The same procedure as before, the man could barely speak so there was less of a response to go by for the initial rigmarole and confirmations. There were long pauses after the statements of Mackey and Coleson during which the only sound was Taylor's own breathing in his ears. It was such a suddenly grim experience that Taylor felt her mood from before dropping.

Of all the sufferers she had seen so far...

She shook her head.

"Ordinant, if you would please collapse the time loop."

She tried not to look at the man as she approached. He stared with such wide, deadened eyes.

She would time it so that he had to suffer the bare minimum. The bubble popped, the man and other Parahumans nearby began to black out.

Another one who triggered with powers--

The man screamed at the top of his lungs, the fluid within Taylor's eyes vibrated as his body began to warp and change, his body melting in place as it transformed into liquid metal, a metallic sludge that bubbled and melted. The mouth was collapsing in a way that made the screeching worse and worse.

The newly triggered Cape stumbled forwards, focusing on her. She took a step back, feeling Coleson gripping her arm and pulling her back roughly.

She barely felt the silvery tendril that cut into her thigh.

It was not sane any more, the man was gone.

Faintly she could hear gunshots, but they didn't do anything to the new Cape, the body rippled as they struck, the containment foam it flowed around and oozed past as more tendrils extended to bat and swipe at those around it, there was screaming that was not from the released cape.

It wanted to kill her, and Bastion was still blacked out.

A tendril lashed out, she heard Coleson sound of surprise and pain as he released her arm. There was the sound of him falling as well, further away, she could not see him bleeding as she stared wide eyed at the liquid metal thing that once was a man that was advancing on her.

He was just trying to protect her and she got him hurt. She needed to do something, anything, to protect him, keep everyone safe until the other Hero could get back up--

P̝̭̻͎̝̜̖̻̰̩̗̆̍͌͑̑ͫ̓̍̅ͅa̺ͥͯ͗̊̈́̑r̤͕̗͓͇͎͓͒ͨǎ̯̹̣̝̟̽̇ď͚͈̯̖͍͒i̞̤̤̜̼̰͎̬̟͙̿̑̆͐̋̔ͧͫ̄ͣg͍̰͖͎̰̟͙̲͕͎ͥ͗ͮ̚m̭͚̠̭͍ͩͭ͊ͯ̽ͥ̂́͂ ͍̣͇̘̯̠̣͇̘̗̄͋ͯͤ̃̀ͣ͑̇ͮȈ͙ͦ̓̓̆̅̌ͩ̈́̅n̻̼ͧf̱̗̬̰͍̆̀ͬ̍̄̉ͫ̿l͈̜̲̻͍͍̩ͤͦ͋ͩa̤̳͚̲̱̖͎̙͍̩̖̹ͥ̊͆̾ͪ̐ͣ̉̏͛ṯ͎͐̅̔i̬̫ͬ͑ͣ̍͆ͣͫ̍͛ọ̠͈̺̻̪͖̭̭̗̐ͩ̅̄͊͗ͧ̓̌ṋ̜̩̣͇͔̘̞͙̭̥̃̓̋͐̊̅ ̯̞̳̼̈ͨͩ̋̂̔̎̌͒ḁ̻͔͎̹̿̓ͦͥ̉̿̔n͎ͣ̈́͋ͨa̯̝͍͕̹̪̝̪̥͑̿ͩ̊ͭ̒̿l̘̝̫͖̺̗͚̟̠̹̹̾͗̐̑͑ͪy̺̻̭̩͍͚͖͖̾̎s̗͙ͬͪͦ̃̄͋͐̈́͌́ͤ̚ḭ̦̖͚͖̺̯̬̪͂s̖͖̣͉̮͋̎ͭͨ̊ͫ̀:̝͙̙̥̜͔̳̟͙̗͖͕̓ͨ͗͛͑͋̉ͪ̏ ̝̩͍̯̈́̌ͤͧͪ̌ͭͫ͋ͮ̇̚T̝̹̪̪͙͈͕̈́͂́ͤ͌ͭ̔͆̆ͅr͍͔̥̳ͫ̌ͭ͒̑ä̬́̆̿ͦ͊́ͧ̑ͤ͑ͅn̰̤̭̗͓̘̺̯̣̙̣̽̉ͨ̇s͍̩ͦ̏̆̐ͨ̔̊̊ͮ̾ͨm͉̞̥̉ͩ͊ͯ̔́̇ú͓̪̰̰̱ͨ͆̌ͨ͑̌ͬͯ̅ṯ͎̎̓ͩ̊e͍̥͕̣̜̣̫̣̜̘̩̠̊d̺̭̘͎̱̠͚̘͓̱͚͕̄͒ͤ̒̑̾̏ͪ͑ͨ̈͂ ̺̬̙͙͙͙ͧ͆ͦ̔ͪͧ͗̾b̰͙͈͚̺̣͂͛ͅi̘̻̘͉͉͈̰̣̗̫͉̱͆ͣͮͬ̉ͨ͌ͤ͂o̫̘̞̙̱͖̞̲͖̞̤̚l̩̟͇̖͎̗͙͕̩ͪô͎̣̹͇͎̤̹̼̘̹̆g̲͈͖͔ͥͯ̎ͣ͐ͫ̉͛ͯ̄ỹ̝̱͓͓̫̹̔̽̇ͨ̋̄ͫͅ ̜͔͇̹̼͚̙̝̝̂̿ȉ̫̠̺̪͚̼̚n͚̘̳̳̙̮̹̗̼̱̣̾ͩ̅ͩ͂̾̐̓t̤͇͖̭̱͕̫̹̭͎ͦ̒̇̇́ͣͪͥ̿ͅͅö̜̠͑̋͆ͭ̇̅̈́̋͌ͬ̚ ̼̳̤̳̩̮̼͔̥̽̂̃ͅl̙̟̜͉̾̍i̩̝̯̽ͦͣ̓̇͂̐̏̂͗̉̄q̹̹͚̬̱͔͕̱̳͚͖̓̆͗͒̇̀̒ͣ͛ͥ̍ͅu̺͇̝̍̀͗ͪͩ̓ͬï̫͔̘͔͍̜͓͕͍ͧ̒ͪͯͯͅd̻ͧ ̬̂͗͋ͦ͂̄͋̈́̓̉͐̋m̲͚̫̝̖̉̾̎ͣe̼̲͚͕ͪͨ̒͋ͦr̪͕͈͎̩̯̪͔͚̦̝̿̎̓͑̇̽ͨ͑̒ć̼͎̬̮̗̑ͩͯu̜̩͇̺̟̥̰̰̮̖̜͛͊̎͗̋̍̍̊̑̍r͖͖̻ͩͧ̌͐ͮͭͤͪ̉͋̚y͚͕͚̪̫͕̔͆̅̅ͮͮ̉.̰̽ ̟͉̟̰̫͖͉͈ͤF̟͕̠̾̔̿̈ͧl̤̳̗̝͚̎͛̅ͦ͒̚è̤̖̖͈̹͔̳̐x̙̤̰̟̹͓̻͖ͪi̙͔̦̘̻͔̺̣̤̎̋̏ͫͯ͒̆͐b̪̜͉̜̘̼͍͖̉̿̑ͦl͙̻̫̭̪̭̙̏͂̾e͔ͪ͛̾̓̉ͦ̀̓ ̱ͧ̔ͧ͒̊̍̃͋ͣ̒́ͩa̻͇̩̻̻̒r̞͙̈́̅̔̐̾m̗̜͈͓̠̅͗ͅa͓̮͓̞̤͚͙̱̪͎͉̟͗̓͂̂̆͛̃ͦ͗m͇̰ͨͦͤͮ̈́̌̇͌e̻̞̦̓̔̋́͂̍̊n̘̟̖͑̔̔ͨ͐ͤͯ̋ͪ̓t̹̱͆ ̣̬͇̤̦̩̤̼̹̣͍͍̐͒ͯ̈̍̚c̟͇̥͌̓̌̑ͬͫ̇̿ͥͅā͔̭͖͙̘̠̬̳̹͍͗ͫ̔ͬͅp̣͍̰̻̠͋͗̇́ͭ̾ͪa̭̳̟̤͓̜͖̦̅͊̃ͨ͋c̘̊͗̒̄̏̅̃ͩ͐̎ͥi̱̠̰̘̼͔̫̺̟̼͆̓̍͑̃ͅt͖̼͉͇̖̖̗͈̺̻̜̓̓y͓̥̝̦̱͖̬̼͇̍̒͋̑̍ͩ̈͆̈́̚.̩̫̫͕̤͖͍̜̉ͣͮͅ ̮ͭ̀ͮ̂̀̀ͤ̓͗̽ͮͦB̼̩͖͔̎̿i͉̖̗̫̣͎̲͖̺̩̺̦̐ō̼̮̲l̳̙͎̮̞͇̤̩͖ͨͨͫͩ̾̐̈̍ͅỏ͚̙̲͕͇͂ͅg̼̯̳͚͎̞̭̲̫͈̀ͦ̃͐ͣ̈̓̏͌y̫̟͕̣͓͓͈̞̹͚̫̅̔̓͌̉͑̉̉̃̚ ̙̗̲͒ͯ̀̎r̺̙̖͇̞ͫ̿ͭ̏̑ͪͤ̈́̽͆̾ͅė̺̲̭̱͙͓̞̑̊ͬ̃̏ͮ̊͊̃͗̚d͍̤͖ͤ̓ͮͩ̈́̈̇̾ͭủ̱͇̻̙̗͇̣̟̾͊̑̆̿ͤ͑n͖̊͊ͭͮ̎̽̅̓ͮ̀d̦̤͙̍ͤͥ͆̈́̿͒a̱̟̦̹̻͑ͮ̿ň̙̞͈̥͎̫̠͍̣̈́̓̐̒̓͆̌̆t̻̜̺͕̼̰̿̊ͫ̍͊ͯ̎̎̚.̝͔͔͈̗̔̆̇̀̑̎̃̚̚̚ ̬͖̫̫̘̙͎̙̪̞͎̦̈ͭ͂̍̍A̦̥̞͙͍̞̐̏̇͛̂ͫ̍̌ͫ͑ͭ̈l͇̩̼̮͇̪͈̤̟̙̗̈́̏̈̉ͤ̔͐i̩̩̯͎̳̥ͫ͌͊͂̂̆̓ͩ͆e̫̺̠̤̯͎̝͚̲ͭ̅ͫ̒ͫͮͨ̀̄ͫ͌ͨň̟̫̲̠̖͎̥̹ ̭̙̤̬͈̱̹̟͓͍ͫͣ̏̋̚ͅi̫̭͈̩͇̱̺̭̮̓̍ͤ͊͑ͮ̏̌̄͑̌̚ͅn̺̦͍͎͂̎ͧ͛̓̆̇ͤ̋f̣̪̜̞̳̟̟̞̑ͮͣ̎̇ͭͥ̉͐̂ḙ̳͍͕͎̠̫ͩ͋̅c̼̰̦̭̳͍̜̤̔ͪ͛ͪ͒̍ͭ̆̒̉ͅt̩͙̘̘͙̋ĭ̮̯̜̞̩̒͛͑̂o̝ͦͨ̾̓̎͋ͭͤ̈n̞̖̙̆̃ͭ̆ ̮͓̰̠͓̭͇ͫ̀ͦ̋̆̚s̲̱͐o̟͔̜̐̉ͭṵ̟̪̜̯̙̥͎̖͎̻́ͧ̊̌̒̓̃̋͑r͕̝͔̻̩͎̝̉̑̎c̯̝̪̪̫͍̹̗̺̯̳̰͊͊̃ͦͦ͒̈̓e̦̺̫͛ͧ̈̀͑͒̎ͩ̈͛̔ ̳͓̗͛l̖̹̓̈́̄ͭ͒̆̍͛o͙̻͇̮̫̰͙̟ͥ̃̀̾c͕̱͉̑̏̉̒̿̿ͤ͒̔̒̏a̤͓̠͋͋̅̐ͯ̄̂͑͂ͥ̓̄ṭ̞̖̬̯̗̺̝͍͎̟͗̎ͩͣͨe̗̘͕̖̰͈̣̝̔͐̏͑̃̈d̖̜ͤ̽̆̐͆:̣ͬ̈́̇͌̊̔̀̒̅̊̓̚ ̭͕͖̬͈͉͒̀ͅ

D̦͌̔ͨ͊͛̋͑̾ͤr̳̼̮ͮ̋̔ͅỏ̰̝̦͕̘̩̙̓̔͌͆͋ͤ̊͂̈͒n̰̞̼̭͓̦͉̜͇̠̯̆̄̄̒̄ͭ̚e̝̪͚͈͙̲͗̈ͤ̋ͫͬ̃ ̻̲̫͖̍̒ͪ̐̓ͣ̾̂̓̑â̻̼ͩ̇̊t͚̖͚̫̜̮̼̟͍͗ͬ́́̅͌ͬ͌ͩ͐ͅͅ ̺͈̺͔͔ͯͯͮͪͯ͑͌̒ͅr̭̹̱̀ͥ͑ï͇̗͖̇͌͋ͦͯ͌ͩ̆̓ͣ̉s̘̜̮̲̼͓͈ͪ͗ͯ̏̏͐k̞̬̥ͫ͌̉̚.̤̝͉̫͖͕̪̌̍̆ͮ̒̾ͨͯͮͪ ͚̻̳̺̩̩͔͑̉͊͑̎̾ͥS͔̟̳̞̹̥͇͔̰̾̈͛̄ͨͦ̆t̝̺̰̼͉̖̪̏̋̇ͫ̈́̀͊̍̃ͅa̞͈̝̤͈̖̙̹̣̻̿ͮͯ̔͋͋ͫ̏ͯř̫͖̝̊͌ͭ̔͐́̍̈̀r̪̠̗̤̙̝̞͕ͤ̈̍ͯi̺̟̲̩̠̅̇̑n̮̟̑ͫ̔̄͊̽̄g̞̪̘̞͉̱͉̝̥̳̹ͮ́ͫ̊̄̐͐̊̚ ̜̰ͭ̊ͅĬ͍̖͇̣̥̳͒͆͆͆̍ͯ̔̾̚ͅn͓̦̟̰̦̬̳̹̒͂̆̎v̬̰̫̅̓̇́͂á̭͖̦̫͉͐̓d͉̦̝̬̼̫̘͎̭̳̉ḙ̅̇ͧ̋̊ͫ͆̃̃ͪ̈ͣ ̝̱͕̗̯̲ͩ͌ͮa̹̤̘̥͙͔̓́ͥͩ͐ͨ̀̆ͥ̀̇n̞͍̟͊ͮͭͨ̂d̰̪̲̮̹̻̩̲̣͖͙͉̀͂ͤ̓̊͐̾͋̌ ͉̗͖̘̳̮ͧ̐ͤ̊ͮ́̒́P͔͇̤̪̺̩̺̦̼̭̦̌̂̐̒ͭ̆ͦ̄̇ȁ͙͈͇͕̦̱̮̲̻̽r̝̫͖̈́͂̈́̇ͩͩ̏̾͗͛̀ạ͖̦̭̪̖̼̪̄̿̑̈̐̒̑ͪͣ̌̓d͇̖̙͑̊ō̪̜̦̗̗̓̃ͭ͑̆ͫ͂ͧ̋ͅẍ̜̼̯̱̟̝̙̹̩̝͚͕̑̅ͭͦͧ ̗̩͓͚̻̾ͥ̃̂̈́̾̒C̪̬̭͍͙ͫạ̻̼̬̖̪͎̓͛ͤ̾̎̓͒̔̄n̰̫̗͖̭̑c̪̯̜̥̭̠͕̜̻̬̣ͣ͌̽ͯ̒̈́ͦ̓ȅ͖͍̝̺̬̳̜̽ͬ̉̔̄̅̿́̇͊l͚̰̯̤ͮl̞̝̖̪͓̦̫̯̤̆ͥ̉̆ͯ̌̾̓̈̄̂ͧͅà̫̲͍͙̳̜ͥ͆͛̍͆t̮̥̻̭̠̰͕͚̼̭̱̟̑͆i̗͚͇͍̖͓̦͈͉ͥͮͅo͇̼͚̖͙͛̋̄ͧ̎ͅn̥̾̐͗̓̍̍̃͋̚ ̮̓̅̌ͮ̂̏ͭ̂ͨ͋ͣ̓i̩̞͔̔n͕ͨs͎̰͙̲̻͉̫̩̞̬ͥ̾ͦ̋̆̀̈ú͓̘̪͉̜̓͋̄ͨͮͩ̊͐̒f̮̣̟͉̞̩͍͇̖͕̆ͤ́̾̊̒́̉ͮ͒ͯ̍ͅf͕̭̯̬̂̽ͦ̎ͣ̾̋̐́̽̏i̱͙͖͍͚̅ͬ͐͊̏̌́̊c̙͇͍̓̔͌̾ͮ͋i̹̙̩̥̮̙̖̼̰̝ͣ̿̓͐̊̒e͕ͣ͂̑̄̈́̈́̂ͭͬͨ̋n̖͛t̥̓͗͊͊͒ͮ̾͆.͓͔̥̯̏͆ͬ̅͌ͨ̾

P̼͊ͪ͌̾r͚͓̫̲͉͇̪͎͇̻͈ͪ͗͌̐̓̾̈̐̐i͈̗̣̹͓͙̬͚̱͉̜̬͒̍ͫ̆̃̉ͧ̒̓o͓͂ͣ̚r͙̘̲͍̲̺̙̤͖͔̍ͅi͔̠͓͙̼͔̲͇͓̖͒̑͑̅͂̉ͫ̏͂͋ṯ̱̙̦̼̼ͤ͋̔̓ͦ̌̈ͅȋ̥̪̬͎͙̹̯̝̊̓̓͊͐̉̋̾͛s̟̬̘ͯḭ̤͉̬͕͑ͩ̋͐̋̈́͋ͅn̩̳̻̝͚̿̏̊ͪ̾̀g̳͇͇̪̑̆̿ͯ̓̒̎͗ͮ ̮̫̜̗̫̹͙̯͕͙̓̏̾̉̓̐t̯̮͓͙̹̄̂͋ͦ́̿a͍̱̲͚̬̳̦̽̃̑͊ͮͭͯ̓̿̇̓r̺̲̠̹̫̮̥̬͍͓̫̬̐̆́̏͑̋g̟̠̼̥̖̺͈̩̼̺̫ͤ̈̅ͨ̇ͪͬͩ̓e̝͕͍͇̤̮͙̮ͤ̒͗͊́ͩ͐͂͋ͅt̻̃̅̑̚i͎͇͇̩͖̝̖̯͖̖ͯͅṅ̮̰̿̓ͩͮg͇͈̳͉̹̹͖̮̬̜̰͒̂͐͌̉̄

D̤̫̺̰̠̺̲̘͕̤ͫͮͥ̒ĭ̩̺̝̲̭̮̬̻͙͑̓͆̾r̩̥̤̲͕̞͐̒̏̔ͨ͋̎̽e̟ͩ̊̓ͫͪ̃ͭͤͯͅĉ̼͖̜̩͔͎̥͔͉̖̼̈t̥̩͈̱͇̼̩̤͆̂̐ͤi͉̬̝͚̻̜̬̠̳̽v̜͙̝̱͈͕͖̗̉̊ͮ͂͊̇͋e̱̯̥̫̾ͤ͐̆:̪̘̯͕̝̀̉̌̍̚ ̲̼̖̤͙̲͈̰̾͐͑E̲̪̙͈̬̟̼͎͆̒x͓͖̩̰͕͖͓̞̠͓̬̌̃t͙̝̪ͬ͆ͪͤ͑͂̚e͖̞̺̬̮̦̜͈̫̜͎͊͆̽̍̾̇̀̊ͮͪr͚̙̰̿̈̐̐ͫm̠̯͔͉͕̮ͭ̏i͎̫̖͕̺̝̯ͥ̍n̠̟͎͇̮͖͎̦̫ͥ͋̓̿̾͛̀̈a̫̫̝̹̟̩̣̅̽t̞͂̅̄̋ͩ́ͥ̾̐̚ẽ̝̪̭̳̟̭̩̟͇͚̫͍̌̔͑́̎̀ͤ̌̏

--She took a step forward.

Her arm drew back, eyes focusing on a space near the base of where the former man's neck would have been. There was the target.

She pushed through the dense metallic goo and liquid even as it flailed at her. She could feel the tendrils lashing against her, cutting. Spurs and spikes speared out from its body as well as around her pandemonium reigned with people shouting and alarms going off.

What was she doing--

She pushed further, it was harder the further she pushed in, the material dense, less sludge than solid.

D̪͇̜͖̮̳̦̱͓ͨ̓̈e̫͇͔̩̳ͦ̑̅ͦ̋̈́͋͐ͬp̞͋͑ͭ́͒̚l̪̯̫̤͈̳͍̙̦̬̄ͯ̀͗̈ͨo̫ͪ̅̈͌ͥ̋͊ͯ̐ẙ̦̯͇̓i̠̱̖͎̯͇̿ͮͥͪ͛̂̃̆̈̓ͩn͔̣̝͙̞̠͓̭̣̜͌͗̉͑̅̾̐ͅg͉͇͉̰̈̽ͣͮ̄ͫͨ ̗̜̤͙͐̀̓ͨ͒ͫ̓̊a̞͔͓̫̳̯̠ͭ̎ͯ̒̉̈̈ͭͦ͊d̩̱̗̻͙̣̂̂d̙̯̠̣͙̲͍̮̟ͣ͂͆ͣ̌̌i̮̦ͬ̒ͬͩͥ̑̋ͥͦ̒̓t̝̱̺̯͓̊̀̽i͚̇͋ͬō̺̺̠͈ͅn͙ͫ̾̆̌a̩̤̠̝͌l̙̜̒̃̒ ͙̜̬̬͖͆̓ͣc̪̞ͨ̿̐̂̈́͒̓a̞̺̿̄ͥ͋ͭ̌ͬ͛p̯͍̣̝̻͖̳ͪ̅͒̒ͮ̚ȁ̖͔̰̩̫̤͍͖̃ͣ͛̚ͅc͉͕̹̈́i̗̥͕̙̹͇̠ͫt̮̹ͫͪy̰̠̫̠̩̓̿͌̽̿̔ͮͦ̒͛ͧ:̼̘͈̤̿͗̈́͒̊́ ̭͉̫̇Ē͕̲̼͓̠̍́̏̋͒͋͗t̯͚͈͇ͣ̂̐ͪ̈́̂ͬ̈́ͅh͖̺͍͓͆̐̈̽̍͛̇e͔̪̘̩̬̙̟͑̂ͩ͗́ͬr͇͍͎̺̭̝̹̝̘͇ͭͧ̍͐̈́̂ͯ̔ͅ ̺̃D̜͑̿ͩr͉̮̝͔̟͓͉̤̖̦̓͐ͣ̽̔̌̎ͮ̉ͅî͉͒ͭ́͋ͯ̋̅ͤ̓n̮̙̱͔̉̏͆̃ͦͧͨͮk͇̘̺̯̞̞̮̟͈̙͛̀ͩe̗̹͈̔̂̔ͅr͓̝̲̠̩̦̬̝̈́͊̾̐̊ͭͅͅ

̝̎E̫͈̖̣͕̰̋̈́ͮͭ̊̋͗ͦͅt͔͉̻͙͇̼͔͇ͤͨ͌̑̀ͭ̂͊ͥ̒͛h͓̖͎̖̞͇̭̗͔̀͐ͩͯ͗̀̃e̠͕͍̐̓̍̓͐ͩ̎ͬ͛r̳͌͒ͤ̂̿ͤ̇̀ ̘͍̗̬̩̮̻̦͇̩̓̃̈D̺̟̜̙ͯ͑ŕ͉͕̺̼͉͕̺ͩͮ̑̅ͩ̽̉̔͑̄ḭ͕̥͇͇ͮ̂ͥ̀ͦͨͦͅn̬͍̯̤͓̬̜̯̳̖̄̆͋̇̉̈͗̓͆̑k̳̝̘̫̙̈ͨ̎̃̅͐ͣͣ̒͊̎̋e̻̫̪͎̭͔̫̗̪̯̘̻͊ͣ̍͋́̚r͍̺̬̞̣̫͌̃͑ͨ̐ͤͫͧͮͯ͆ ̬̘͍͍̹͙̫͙̞̪̄͋̅c͙̙͓̻̞͍̣̣̑̀ͤ͛ͪ̃ͅa̲̼̰̝͔̫̦ͣp̗̽͆̃͐̓̈́ͬ̚ͅa̜͇͓͈̻̝̝̹͔͒̅ͣ̾c̩̦̙̝̦̭ͭ̊i̯̻̳̦̳̞ͨ̆ͬ̍̃̈́ͨ͆͂̿ͭ͊t̹̱͚̟̱͍͖́ͫͯ̏͆̃y̩͕͖̲ͣ̍ͣ:͓̘̞̬͚͔̩ͨ̆ͧͨ́ͪ̚ ̯̤͉̭̙̙ͤ͌ͣ̓̿͆ͤͣͨ̒Ȉ͚̣̝̲̹͇̙̳͙͈͙͇̓͒̏ͪ̀̏̐̂n̖̺̺͈͐̍̆̒̃̇͑ͫ̋̉ͅc̗̟̣̆͐̽ô̲ͬͮ͑̅ͥ̒͆̈̅m̲͉̦̝̭̃́͆͒͌ͪ̋p̺͎̺͔͇̖̥̹͇̱͖̂̍͊ͮͣͧ̑̅ͪ̌̎ͅa͔͓̪̳̹̮̳̟͔ͬ̉͆ͬ̉͋̉t̪̪͖͈̫͓͈͇͕̹̫͑̏̋̍̓̿ͪ̄̉ͣḭ̰̙̖̝̯̤̋̊͂͒̀̇͑̐̚b͇̠͍͖̼͓̘̝̭̄̒͒͋̔̇̍ͦ̏l̬̠͍͈͍̯̻͎͋̿ͨͦͪ̾ė͕̜̦̱͖̥̼͚̖̤ͅ ̪̟̙͇̗̹̥̦͈̥̤͂͐ͬ̊̈ͮͬͮ͆͂̒w̖̯̲̖̲͓̩̤̖͈̙͒̏̾ͣͧ̌̈͒i̪̰͈̮̼̙̊̆̊̽̐ͭͦṯͯ͊ͅh̟̙̩͊̈̓ ̻̟̫͕̱̥̲̐́ͫ̂̽õ̖͍ͭ͑̊͑b̰̯̦̙̼͈͎̥̻̩̔̾̐s͚̬ͧ̉ͥ̅̋e̜̝̟̓̚ṛ̤̯̤͓͇̱̥̗ͣ͑ͮ̈ͅṿ̻̳̬̳̭̘̝̻̾͊ͫ̈̆ͨ̈́͛̄̉̈̚a̖̯̼̤͔̩̱̪͓̯ͪ̔́ͫ͊̉̒t̬͚͉̰͚̙͈̜̎̀̒ͯ͛ͨ̏i̻̫͕̗ͫ̂̈́̒̀̒̓ͣo̲͚̯͖̦̼͋̊̀ͮͩ̄̎͒̂̏n̻͖̬͈͙̲̞̦͛̏ ̲̱̳̯̳̄̓ͣͭ̋̋̉̌͂ͦ̚ḓ̲ͬr̩̃̓̀ͯ͋ͩ͑ͮ̚̚o̜͓͍̅͌ͬ̒͊ͪͨ̆ͅͅṅ̗ͭ̎ë̘̹́ͣ̐ͭ̌̑ͭ̏̊ͭ̎ͅ ̰͇͎̫̼̮̖̣̓̆̆ͧ̚b͔̮͓͙͍͎̅͒͒̚ỉ͈̲̞̲̫̹̦̔͛ͤ̚o͍͓̤̺̳̘̝̣̥̯ͧ͊̽ͨ͂ͯ͋̚ͅl͙̜̜ͬͧ̊ͩ̆̔ͫ͐̓ͣo͔̔ͬ̅̐̄̆ͫͧ̽̉g͇͋ͮ́ͭ͛ŷ̫͔͙̇.̫̞̮̱̙̤̼͍̽ ͇̮̦̫̊̂͋

Ṕ̭̱̹̞̯̥͇̫͉͕͓ͣ̋̀ͥ̉͗̍e̝̣̱͍̭͉͎̠͆̏ͤ͂̒́ͯͨ͑ͅr̺̦̘̥̲̟̟͕͖̜ͥ̓ͩͫ̓̂̑ͫ̐̚f̗͇̰̦̠̰͚̞̳͍ͧ͗̎̈o̘̩̱̱̖͒̓ͩr̜͎̼͓͈̼͎̠̟̲͆͌m̑̌̾͒ͅi̮͇͉̲̺̜͈̩͉̝̠ͪ͑ͅn͚̳̝͔̲̼̒̂͑̓g̩̑ͭ̓ͅ ̬͇͈̺̠͉̘̜̩̗͆̄ͅr̻͕̘̺̬͐ͦͥ̌̍̃ͬͨ̊̔̚ͅa̺̘͔͈̦͕̓̑̓̀͒̄ͅp̲͊̎̅̇ͬ͋̏ͩ͑ͅi̪̖̜̠ͭ͋̒̅̈́ͯ̓̽ͫ̋ͭd̲͎͚͔̹͐̊ͥ͛͂̾ͪ ̭̦̞̗͓̩͖̤̹̘̇a͈͛͒͒̍̂l̟̙̋̇̆̂t͇̩̗͚̖̥̠̀̅ͣ́̍̑͐̏̿̚e͕̓͂̑̌r̪̀ͯ̿̅̄ͨạͫͤ̉̒͊̿͗t̞̪̠̬̗͎̥͕̘̱̎͐ͫ͗̑͒̈͒̏ī̦̰̮͍̖̹͉͈͇̯o̜̞͙͈̓ͮ̃ͯ̃͑ͮ͐̇n̹͙ͬ̿̍ͩͬ̒̄ͣ̇̍ ̥̫̞̝̻̙̆t̥̪̯̪̤̲̪͔͍ͫ̊͑ͫͫͬͦͤͭo̥̗̮̗͔̗͙̹̭̟̤ͨ̅ͭ͌͋̄͐̓͗̽̌ ̮̰̫͈͇̩͕̈ͬ̓̇̊͊̐ͫb̩ͣ̂̍͑̉̿̔̃̚i̱̰͓̦̪̠ͯ̏̔̚o̝̻ͫ̒l͖͖̪̯͎͖̗̥͇̾ȍ̥̫̬̱͎͖̬̑̃̑ͅg̖̫͙̲͚̘̮̋̽̃ͣ̆͛͛̚ȳ̙̪̖͍̊ͪ ̭͈͚̟̦̰̤̝́͌͑͛̍ͩͪ̏͋ͭo͚̬̪̬̮̞̣̩̪͉ͫͬ͑̇ͧ͛ͅf̺̠̫̺̤͔ͣͯ̾ͬ̈̽ͨ ͖̖͉̙̲̬̜̩̤̃̌o̱̖̣̼̺͎̱̦̠̙͈̺ͥ͂͊͆ͫ͐͊̽̓̓͂́b̻̮̭̼͉͉̳ͫ͒ͅs̗̞̹̰̙̼͇̅̆ͯ̇͂̅͗̔̏̍͑̔ͅͅe̗̮̟̺̮͉̘͕͈̜̫ͤ̂͐̽̑̓̍͊ͧṛ͑̿̾̆ͩͬͯ̍ͣͩ̋̃ͅv̱̫͔͈̓a̠̼͙̣̹̼̻̒ť̼̣̦̪͔̯͍̦̫̌͗̈͂i̲̻̹̘̔̑̏o̮͇̫̯̟̱͋̋̍̔ͭͧ͗ͨͯ͗n͚̦̠͓̪̮͔͚̱͎͗̄̑ͥ̾̅ͪ̋̑ͧ̐ ͇͉̞̮̱̗̙̓͌͑̿̽̾ͬͭ̾̀ͤ͆ͅd͕ͭ͆́̄̀̈̈r̰̩̲͍ͪ̓̉͗̋ō͔̜̬͋̊ͤͤ̽̈͌n͉̹̋̉ͫ̀͊ḙ̗͚͉̙̖̠͙̑͗̎̈́ṡ̘̼̱̙̠͕͔̹͇̣͔͌͒͆͋ͪ̅̌ͅ ͇͉̞̮̱̗̙̓͌͑̿̽̾ͬͭ̾̀ͤ͆ͅo̞̙̱͖̾͐̍̅̅ͫͤ͛f͉ͣ̔͛̆ͥf̮̤̭͇̩̫̓̿ͬ̂̀̋̍͐͆̈́͆e̠͇̲̞͕͚̲̤̽ͧͩ̔̈́n̹̹̞̜̼͓̪̦̭͑ͮṡ̘̼̱̙̠͕͔̹͇̣͔͌͒͆͋ͪ̅̌ͅi̹ͤ̅ͯͬͮ͑͐̃̌̈́v̝̯̦͂̽̇̽͋ͫe̟͊̊̄̅͋̿̍ ̩̟̬̠̆̇ͭ̅̓̊͆͋ͩa̗̝̭̣̘͚̽̉̿͆͛ṗ̰͉̜̯̜̙̟̭̪̟̟̽̂̑̿̾͗͆̇͛͒͗p̺̼̥͔̄͊́͋̑̋͑̍̓ͯĕ̬̥̙ͦ̽̄ͣ̿͌ͣͬͧ̊ǹ̰̠͉̦̮̭͖̤̣d̻̠̝͖͍͉̙̹̼̠̞̪ͯͭͬ͑ͬ̓̃̑͒ä̯̪͈͓ͤ͐ͫ̓g̜͓̱ͭ̏ͭͯͅê͔͓̬͇̬͇̟̦̤̻̖̊̀͐̅ͩ̽̿ͣ.̟̅̌ͩ ̼͇̺̦͔̰̭̭͉̻̽ͮ̑̚ͅ

E̮͍̭͉̫͂n̦ͥͤͪͨ̌̔̾̄̂͋͋̀g̬͙͇͙̎ͥ̆ͯ͌̀͑ͨạ̼̯̖͉̣͍̟̦̹ͪͪ̇̋̑͌ͦ̅̓̎̚ͅg̲̾ͯ̅̉ͮ̐̓ͅì̖̜̻̞̣̻̞͉̫͈͚ͨ̈̀ͦ̎̎͛̊̆̚̚ͅn̪͓͇̓̒͒ͤg͖̮̼̙̻͎̬͉̗̮̀ͯ̋ͧ̎̒͊ͥ͌ ̱̭̝͙̞̮͎͖̟͚ͫ̈̀̍͛̌̈́ͣͥͥͩE͎̳͙̱̒ͤ̓͑̀̑͂͌̓̚t͓̮̫͌̎̀ͣ̏ͮͤͪͭ̚h̪̗ͯe̯̩̤̦͖̳̺̤̗̟̪̐̆ͪ̇r̩͈͉̻͙̰͔̺̈́̀͐̿̿͋̾̓̎͒͒͋ ͉͉͗̿̈̍̇̾̏́͌̈́ͅD̯̜̦͎̳̻ͩͥ̽͐ͪͅͅr̦̳͉̣̤͙̺̈́ͪ̈́̒̊i̺̳̻̬͕͇̞ͧ̚n͈̝͎̤̖̮̮̯ͨ͋͛̃̉ͭͩͦ̐k͇̪̥̞͔̣͕̳ͨ̌̉ͨ̔̓̅̚̚ḙ͈̱̬̦̮͋̋r͙̺̺͓̭̼͔̮̼͙͗̊ ̩̪͎͉̥̆c̠͈̝̼̜̯̩͓̒̅ͩa̜̱̱͖͙̞̳͛̿ͮ̏p͓̖͙̗̣̰̦̔ͣ͋̾ͩ̿̈̑̆͐̀ȁ͉̯̬̦̗c͉̜͙̺̬̺̱̱̦̱̥̥̏̈́i̯̬̱̱̠̖̥̮̪͙̝ͫ̈̑ṱ͚͍͇̲͕̪̖̋ͯ͛̄̓̄̽̏y̬̼̻̩̯̪̭̪͒̋ͩ̌ͬͦ.̭̖͔̩̘̗̰̲̣ͧ̓̃̓̑͒ͪͧ̅ͯͫ̓ͅ ̙͎̼̑̌́̾͂ͭͮ

Her arm felt warm, it ached suddenly, all of it. It must just be the metal crushing it. Just the process.

The former man was melting faster suddenly, the tendrils weren't lashing so hard. His strength was draining away, even as she felt stronger and stronger by the second.

What was she doing--

She pushed through more cleanly now. The liquid metal was pulling at her outfit, she could feel the plates and cloth of her suit being pulled away and the liquid metal attempted to internally crush and cut at her arm. She was up to her elbow now; the aching feeling had spread further up her arm.

There was something solid suddenly, about the size of a golf ball It was soft, squishy, like a--

Her hand crushed it.

The mass of liquid metal collapsed like a wave to the floor or a great blob of water dropped from an overturned bucket. It splashed, it lapped against her shoes and began to pool outwards, leaving Taylor stood there with something in her palm.

A small, ruined piece of flesh. A piece of formerly smooth, mostly spherical meat lined with tiny capillaries--

A corona pollentia, sitting on her crystalised palm. Her entire arm up to the mid-upper arm was crystal.

Slowly she looked up, at the mass of troopers, at Agent Coleson bleeding on the floor. Bastion was up now, having regained consciousness.

Everything was silent.

She wanted to scream but couldn't. Her body hurt. She was bleeding. Where was Emma? She needed her. Where was dad? Help.

H̪̆e̳ͦl͈̒p̭͂ h͚̻ͩ͊e̠̰̎̋ḻ̝͂͆ṗ̟̮̾ h͚̬͇ͫ͊̈́e͔̜̥͒̓ͥl͔͎̳̄̓ͭp͓̖͇̎̎ͥ h͕͎̫͍ͦ̊ͬ̌e͕̰̙͉̅̈́̒̿ḽ̦̣̈́ͩͦ͌ͅp̩̥͙͚̼͋̂ͥͭͦ h̹̼͔͓̺ͨ̃̿̏͋è̥͉̲̰̹̑̂̐͋l̮̤̯͍͕̒̂͒ͪ́p͓͕͎̩͚͎̽̈ͧͬ͒̑ h̼̫̥̩̖̘ͯ̀͂ͥ̉͂ḛ̞̖͈̮̝̾̌̋͗̈̚l̟̠̳͖͎̠͕ͮͮͤ̆̅̆̓p̼̳̜̳͕̩̱̓ͦ̋ͨͤͮ͊--

R̘͆͐̓̓e͈̘͇̘͓͍ͥ̾̅͆̇͐ͅj͖͆̂̎̆̆ͥ͆ͥe͇͔̥̭̲͖̙̳͐̉ͨ͛̌ͫͪ̓̉̚c̹̣͉̱̓̾̾̾ͯͤt̲̱̻̦̥͓̪̋ͭ͂͒ͧ́ͧ̈e͙̼̮͚͆̂͒̀̐̾ͦ͋ͪd̻͖̤͌͑͗̊ͩ͛̀̊ͧ̅̈:̙͓ͩ͛ͦ̏̈̋̍ ͕̝͎̼̇D͚̮̜̬͍̞̠̱ͤͤ̏ͯ̌r̞̮͍͕̼̪͉̫̲͍̋̿͂̽̆o̟̲̺͈̓͌̏́͊̏̃͗ͩ̓ṉ̰͖͉̃̔ͣ̿ͣ͑e͎͚̥͇̜̳̤̺͕ͧ ͈̹͉͖̖̭͚͇̥̦̈́̀ͅw͉̣͛̄ͪ̾̓ͧ̋ͯ͋ͤͫͅȉ̦̤̖̼̮̤̬̞̣̖̽̎͊̀ͩ͛̑̃ͅl̜̺̮͔̳̪̼͙̲̺͚ͣͣ͒̏͛̂́̚l̹̟̦ͨ ̙̥̻͎̥̬̳̊̒̓"̱̙̲̔̊Ȉ̩̼̲̰̘͇̗̥͔̓̎ͬ̄́ͮ̈̉̈̚ͅͅm̲̻̗͈͓̜͍̮͙̿̃̊̈́ͧ̋̽̽̚̚ͅp̦̣ͥͭ̒̅r͇̟̖͕̗͕̺̳̋ͧë̦̰͍̼̠͌̇ͭͮ̈́̽ͧ͆ͪs̫̯̰͍͎̹͉̞̗̮͗̄̉̚s̥̮̯̃̿ͪ̄͛ͩͧͭ̽̾"͈̎̏̿̎̔ͤ ̻̜̜͈̼͐͗s͓̬̝̬͙͙͎͓̽̐̆ͥ̇ͣ̓û̜̮͚̖͔͖̺͉̻ͧ̾ͦ̐̈́̚p̺ͯ͒̍ͥ̆̓͊ͦ̒̂̍ě̲͕̽̄͆̇ͨ̌ͥr̜̮͙̺̝̯̬̅ͧ̽̔̐̾͛͗̋̾̈́i̫͙ͯ͆̐͋o͎͓̪ͯ͗ͦͤ̀̀ͨr̫͙̮̮̦̻̟͔̭ͩ̋ͣ̈́ͯ̓ͬͫͬ̈ṣ̱̽̊̆̽̆͌ͪ̿ ̯͈̟̠̰̆̅̎̾̍̒̎ͧ̂͑̚a̹̜̹̭̫̫̣͖ͮ͋̐̑̋ͭͨ̇n̩̗̩̜̍̇̄͆ͧ͂̅̒̆d͙̙͙͍̠̯̯̖͐͌̓̔͑̆ͤͯ ̼̭͎ͯ̄ͧ̓̇͌̊̽͂̈ǵ̱͌̄͐́͌̈ͣ̉ͨͫa͈͈̞̺̘͇͖͔͗ͧ̒͊ͨ̓ͧ̇̃ͯ̊ĩ̳̖͑̅̈́̎n͎̯͎̳̫͈͔ͭ͂̽͂ͫ̑̈ ̘̳̭̪̼̰̇̈́͑̎͂ͬ͂̓́͗ͤá̱̪͔̦̤͙̲ċ̼̔̏͆̆ͣ̑ͭ͗c̭͒ͯẽ̖̳͈͙̦̩̜ͤ͛ͪ̋̾͒̎ͧs͇̙̠͖͍͇̣̃̆ŝ̝͙̻̘͈͉̯͕̥̳͌̔ͬ̏͐̃ͬ͑ ̜̞͓̽ͫͮ̔̐̏ͫ̂ͯt͓̐̾ͫ̂͒ͪ̉͑̔o̗̼ͣ ̹̖̯̮̝̫̥ͩͅị͚̟̓̓̈́͊m̩͓̺̜̹̖̝̠̥͖̰͊͆̊̓͛p̺̝̟̒̇ͬ͂̄̐̾͛̾ͣͧř̹͙̮̫̬̻͙͔̭o̖̳̰̺̗̯͉͖̿̓̿ͯ̀̽́v̜͎̳͔͆́e̯̥̱̳̒͛ͤͣͬ̋̃ͭͤͭ̓d̖̓ͧ̉̀͊͐̓ ̳ͩ̓ͯ̋͐d̪͓͈̂͒ͥ̃̾̈͛̐ẳ̦̤̤͚̥̣̤̲ͅt̜ͭ̉̿͗́͋ͦ̓̃ͅa̗̩̫̰̬̗̖̜̓.̻̯̪̬̞͓͕ͨ̈́̄̂ͧ̋ ̜̠̣͗̎ͤ̾̇Ě̞̣͔̞̫̞̟͎̥̹̚ͅv̟̭͓̮̙̍̉͛ͬ̐͛͐ͭͤi̩͔͉͍̭͙̝̝͙̱̘̓d͓̰͖̥̻̿ͅe͖̹̻͍̠̺̥̤͚ͥͥ̉̍ͨͧ̽͗̔ͯͪn͖̫̭̭̙̹̼͖̲̆̒c͍̟̠͍̹͇̘͈̥̱̘̽ͬ̓ͥ̒̄ē̗̩̼̜̣̟ͤͣ̌ͮͣͅ:̰̗̆ͩ̌ ̣̙͎̟̭͓͙̆ͦ͛̈͛̒P̬̤̜̭͕̤̠̠̳͓̹ͦ̾͊ͣr̙͈̦̍̿̉ͦ̃͂̇̊̄ė̳̥͍̼̗̩̞̉͆̐̃ͥ͗͗̓̚v̬͚̰͍̳̞͙͎ͤ̓̏ͯ͒i̬̞̭̤̬̗̿ͬ̅̈̇͗̓̈̈̐͛o͖̼͕̬̝͇͒͐̊̓ͩ͌ͦ̌̎̒̽u͓̫͉̳̖̽ș͈̞̠̩̮͚͆̒͐ͭͤͩ́͒̅̈́ ͚̰̦͔͕͙ͬc̰̜͎̠̮̫̠̖͐a̩̮̱̘͎̻̘͎͈̤̠ͣͧ̈́ͮ͐̊́̈p̟̹͔̪̳͖͇̓̉̍ͅa͎͂̽̂͌ͤc̥ͥͦ̃̌͊̽͗̏̽̇i͎ͭ͒̈́t͚̊͗ͦ̓ȳ̖͈͕̯̯͙̃̈́ͯͣ̉̄ͦ̆̂ͅͅ ̦͉̟̥̪̙̫̿ͦͪe͕ͤ̑́̇ͪǹ̙̦̝̤̝̆̓ͭͬ͋̑̿̌̒̀ḧ̹̤̘̻͙͇͔a̰͗̋̓n͖̬͊c̜̼͙̘͓̘͈̐̾ͫ̽ͫ̈́̿̋ͤ̇̾e͇͆̏ͪ͒͋m̞͕̬̗̪̯̻̺ͧ̂͆͊ͪ̊ͥ̔̈ͨ̚e̪̗̖̻̮̙̤̹̰͑ͧ̂̿̾ͨ͗̍n͙̯̯̻͙̱̣̅̐͆ͦͬ́̋ẗ͇̩̮̫͕̤̖͕͙́̔̅ͪͤ̎̃̆ͥ̌ͤ ̣̝̲̺̞̇͗͒̆̐̊̄r̹̬̖̍͂ͣ̔͋e̼̪̮ͩ̒͊ͯ̌̍͊͋͒ͦq̰ͯͯ̈ͬủ͔̩͖̰̤͚̖̝ͣ̇̐ͫ̑̉ͬe̠͖͔̲̳̭͊̉ͮ̓̑̄͋͛̆̃̂ͅs̯̻̝͖̰͉̤̣͉̺͉ͦ̉̾ͪ́ͫ͂̃͗̊t̬͖̥̱͎̼̼̣͓̎̇̔͐͐͆ͦ̾͆̎̇ͅ

In the face of utter hopelessness, Taylor allowed herself to stop thinking.

2.6

Taylor could hear voices, distantly. She was sat motionless on the hospital bed, listening.

She barely breathed, barely moved, she had not blinked in minutes, staring into her lap. The wounds on her torso ached and stung where the liquid metal had cut and dug in.

"Your negligence has cost years of Ordinant's life!"

Coleson was shouting, she could hear his voice even from this distance. Despite his injuries the man was running on all cylinders.

She had never heard somebody sound so angry in her life. Not even her father, with his thunderous anger at times, had never taken it out on his family and always done his best to keep any shouting he did out of earshot. She had still sometimes heard it though, him shouting down a phone at somebody. But not like this. Coleson was incandescent with rage and was unafraid to drop the walls of professionalism to rip into the local PRT members.

"There was nothing that could have been done--"

"Boston has over fifteen full time Protectorate members and Ordinant is the only Parahuman on earth who can break Grey Boy loops, where was the protection!? Only Bastion was present and she should have been your absolute priority!"

"You also failed to--"

"I requested additional protection throughout this procedure!"

A lot of other people were angry, right now.

Not with her though.

In a way, that made it worse.

She killed a man.

Even if he was not sane any more. Even if it might have been a mercy she had reached into his body and crushed what little remained of his brain as if it was a grape. She had barely thought about it, her body had reacted automatically... no part of the hand-to-hand combat training with Aegis or the others had trained her to crush people's organs.

That was the instinct of a monster.

Where had that come from? This... this was not her. She was a Hero. She wanted to help people. Could she have cancelled what was going on and helped him? Could her power have returned him to being human? But even then... whatever was once there was gone.

But she still killed him.

Would she have felt different if he had not transformed?

If he had just been a man driven mad to who had had to be put down by the PRT troopers and their guns, would she still feel the same guilt?

... Yes, probably. But it would be different.

Her hands were physically and metaphorically bloodstained now. On some level, she could never go back from what had happened today.

The crystalised arm lay limp in her lap. She could move it easily, physically it was heavier than her flesh and blood one but she could move and manipulate it just as easily. The crystal felt... good. She hated it. She hated that idea, that the multitude of specks that glistened at her were beautiful. She could avoid looking at her legs most of the time. But now there would be no escape from the reminder, unless she wore a glove and long sleeve for the rest of her remaining life.

Her shoulder was not aching. Perhaps the newly crystalised flesh would not expand, perhaps her legs, greedy for more, would progress and her new arm would be content with devouring her limb? She would not hold out hope. The crystal wanted her. It wanted all of her.

It would not stop.

This was her life, to be consumed, to become...

A choked sob escaped her.

It had to be cut off.

No, all of it had to be removed! Oh god why had she waited so long! She was so scared, she couldn't ignore it anymore, her arm was glinting up at her as if to mock her. 'Here I am! I'm going to crawl up and eat you alive!' it was saying.

In that moment she wished she had a meat cleaver so that she could cut off the loathsome thing herself.

She was so close to breaking down. All the progress over the last few weeks, all the hopes and dreams... it was all falling apart. She didn't even want to drown in a wave of information and knowledge right now, she just wanted to curl up somewhere dark, somewhere humanity would not look.

Her phone buzzed.

It took a moment for her to realise what the sound was, dully, her eyes moved. The phone... had it always been on the bed? It must have been, perhaps she was to expect a call from Miss Militia or her dad? Had he been informed about what had happened? They must have, right? He would come, he would drive all the way down if it came down to it to help her. He loved her, he was the only person who did.

Emma: Is calling

Emma. Emma. Emma! Emma!

Like a man dying from thirst man reaching for a bottle of water Taylor took up the phone and pressed accept with her flesh and blood arm. Her lifeline, her friend, the only person in the world who would understand the full weight of what had happened to her. Emma would understand. Emma always understood, she was like her twin, they spoke without speaking, they knew one another like they knew themselves.

"Emma..." her voice was croaky; it had been hours since she last spoke. She hadn't been able to speak to Coleson, or Yamada or any of the agents who had tried to rouse her after what happened despite their attempts.

"Tay, I... I need you. Come back!"

"Emma, I... I..." she couldn't speak, her friend also sounded on the verge of breaking down, there was a desperation in her voice.

"Please," Emma was begging insistently, Taylor could see her, locked up in her room, the blinds lowered, the ends of her hair probably all chewed up. She always chewed her hair when she was stressed. Something must have happened. "The crystal, its grown, s-s-six centimetres, I need you, please, please please please--"

Taylor sniffled. She would not break down.

"T-Taylor... what's wrong?"

They spoke, Taylor told all, and she listened to all Emma had to say. Emma almost screamed, Taylor could hear the frustration and despair from here even as she felt the exact same and responded in kind. Everything was falling apart... this was the worst day of her life since the day the Spider fell from the heavens.

But...

Emma needed her.

That alone brought sensation to her despair. Her crystalised hand clenched. Emma needed her right now.

Come hell, high water or even the fucking Spider, Emma needed her. Even if she felt like shit, even if her lifespan had been reduced by years, by a decade she could not just sit here and mope and replay the day's events in her head.

Pushing off the covers felt like a titanic effort. She was still in her outfit; they had removed the material covering her arm so that a doctor could examine it more closely. Up to her mid-upper arm was crystal now.

Across the hospital ward she walked, a nurse tried to stop her and she just walked on, onwards and out of the room, bare heels clicking and clinking against the floor as she went, and barely anyone even tried to get in her way. She did not have to go far to find the shouting Coleson, and she roughly pushed open the door with her newly crystallised arm.

"Coleson."

"Ordinant?" he looked surprised to see her up, head practically whipping around. The man looked a mess, even though he had changed into a new outfit the bandages were evident, especially the one on his neck and over his face. How the man was so functional in this state Taylor had no idea.

"We have two more loops to break and then we are going home."

There were glances between everyone present. Opposite Coleson was one of the Boston higher ups, this was not a director's office but it certainly looked fancy and important, the woman behind the desk was looking over Taylor and the crystallised arm.

"Ordinant, I think you need some more rest," Coleson spoke diplomatically. His face was bandaged from where the liquid metal had slashed him, he might have lost an eye yet he had still been here arguing with the local PRT for her sake.

"My life had been utterly fucked today and my best friend is having a breakdown and I am not far off," she spoke. "I either break these two loops tonight and go home, or we just go. I'll get a taxi if I have to."

The room was silent at the proclamation.

~~~~~

In the end, she had broken the two loops.

There had been an argument with some of the higher ups of Boston until the local Director, Armstrong, had gotten involved and unilaterally pushed aside all opposition. The man seemed reasonable, even kind. He had asked to speak with Taylor at some point in the future to discuss what had happened. She had politely agreed, if only to make the entire matter move along faster.

A member of Youth Guard had gotten involved and there would be some spectacularly ferocious fines levelled against the Boston PRT there alongside a full investigation and more.

Right now, Taylor was not thinking about that.

They had been rushed to the other two-time loops with a full complement of Protectorate Capes called in to provide protection to her. The question of why they had not done that in the first place went unspoken, but she had noticed the way Coleson's lips pressed together into a narrow line.

There had been another trigger, although it was dealt with peacefully, and then they were blasting back along the highway back to Brockton Bay.

She felt just a little bad for the Boston Wards, out of everyone. They had been so accommodating to her, Weld and Hunch had been so pleasant, when she was better, when things were better, she would send them a message on PHO... maybe.

But right now, getting to Emma was her priority.

Her dad had been informed what had happened and she had little doubt that calls were being made.

But before all that, he had called her to demand every detail, to demand to know if she was safe and coming back. If Coleson's anger had been bad earlier, she had little doubt that Danny Hebert was utterly apoplectic with rage and would leave no stone unturned. She would leave that to him, she still felt mostly numb and empty beyond that all consuming drive... he would meet her at the Barnes later in the night.

They were not far away now.

It probably was not right for them to drop her off at a civilian location, but the PRT van was unmarked, all anybody watching would see would be a random girl getting out of a van and heading to the house. Not that she was concerned, leave that to her superiors.

She had changed on the fly back into civies before leaving Boston, leaving only her visor, and that she removed as she stepped out and shoved it roughly and without concern into a bag.

"Here."

"Are you sure, Ordinant?"

"Yes... thank you, Coleson."

"... Ordinant. If you need to talk at any point, I shall make myself free," Coleson said, meeting her eyes with an utterly serious expression. She had little doubt he wanted to say more. But those conversations would happen later, another time.

"Thanks, goodnight."

She was not even halfway up the path to the door than it was thrown open to reveal Zoe Barnes, the woman looked some combination of shell shocked and relieved as Taylor was brought in. Alan Barnes was also in the hallway, he looked pale and sickly with worry. He said something, thanking her for coming.

"Oh, thank god, c'mon Taylor she's upstairs," Zoe took her hand and half-walked half-ran Taylor up the stairs to Emma's room, reaching up to knock on the door. "Emma, Taylor's here now," and with that, she opened the door for her.

Emma was a mess, sat on her bed in her pyjamas, hair all frizzy and face red and puffy from crying.

Taylor too, was a mess. She had been up for too long now, she was emotionally and physically exhausted, her body bandaged from the flesh wounds she sustained earlier, even if it would be healed soon. She almost stumbled with relief upon seeing Emma.

Her friend's tired, scared eyes looked at her arm, her lip wobbled. Emma's legs were covered, but Taylor knew roughly how far up the crystal would be by now.

"T-Tay."

Taylor's legs gave out beside the bed and within a moment her chin was on Emma's shoulder and Emma's was on hers.

They spoke, they cried, they raged impotently at the hand that they had been dealt, at the things utterly out of their control that the world kept inflicting on them. Emma didn't care about her crystalised arm, she refused to let Taylor go or so much as move an inch.

"Please don't leave me again Tay please please don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me--" she was frantic, her arms were so tight around Taylor that she could barely breathe. There was nothing she could say or do apart from hug Emma close and babble into her friend's ear and promise over and over again to be there and ask Emma to do the same, it would not be until early morning that they were both too exhausted and drifted off to unconsciousness.

2.7

Piggot and Armstrong

When Kamil Armstrong left his office at his usual time that afternoon to begin his journey back home, he had not expected to make it only halfway across the city before a frantic call came through the hands-free system. Being trapped in traffic, he had glanced at the number to see that it was from his own office, or to be more correct, from his secretary, a rather sweet old lady who had been with the PRT longer than some of his Wards had been alive.

He had accepted the call, of course, and then his day had been turned on its head and gone to shit.

Forty minutes later he was handing his suitcase back to the woman, not a smile in sight as he stormed through the corridors. The air was thick with tension and for once he made not a single effort to lighten it.

Shit had hit the fan and now it was his turn to take the flak for it.

"Get Piggot on the phone."

"Her office is waiting on two, sir. "

Of course the woman would still be in her office at this time of night. Taking a seat behind his desk Kamil clicked his neck, then picked up the phone.

"Director Piggot?"

"Director Armstrong."

Over in Brockton Bay, Emily Piggot had been waiting to say those two words for the last half hour, keeping the phone on the line just waiting for the moment.

"I have heard about what happened and now need to ask, what the hell have you and your department been doing with my goddamn Ward!?"

Brockton Bay needed all the help and support that it could, she had been asking for more for years now but the coastal city had long been pushed aside in favour of supporting other critical areas. For a while, Emily had had hope that the Spider would actually bring some more Capes to Brockton Bay, after the creation of Quarantine Zone-9 around the Crystal Valley, several Thinkers had been relocated to the city for a few months to oversee the operation. But then they were relocated away after their investigation was completed, and it became clear that the Spider was 'inactive.'

Capes were valuable.

Even some of the most minor of powers had the potential to be incredibly potent in the right situation.

Ordinant had seemed like one of those cases, cancelling shaker effects by touching them was a niche with only so many uses in the day-to-day operation of the city… but it was one that was incredibly valuable as an asset to the Brockton Bay PRT as a whole.

That was part of the reason that she had been loaned out to Boston in the first place.

What Boston would gain in a small experiment and the potential PR boost of several freed Grey Boy victims; Emily would gain tenfold in the form of an incredibly valuable bargaining tool. PRT departments across the US would give their right hand to borrow Ordinant for even a short period of time, perhaps even lending out their own Capes to Brockton Bay for an extended period. Emily could scarcely imagine just what she could achieve with even a few extra Capes from the larger cities.

Emily had already had contingency plans drawn up should it prove the case.

And the thing was, the girl could break the loops. For a few hours following Coleson's preliminary text confirming that fact Brockton Bay's PRT had been filled with frenzied plan making, the drawing up of potential agreements between departments and proposals.

But now...

To say that Emily was pissed off would be an understatement, despite her attempts to be rational and calm.

Even beyond the objective fact that her Ward had been put in danger and her life expectancy slashed by several years unless she got medical treatment, the girl had a number of worrying mental health indicators that her team had brought forward.

Emily listened to Armstrong's clinical description of events, which lined up with what she had already heard in detail from Coleson (albeit, more objective, her agent was dangerously emotional and running on adrenaline earlier).

When Kamil was done, there was a pause as Emily rubbed at the corners of her eyes.

"And yet you and your boys saw it as more of a science experiment--"

"Director Piggot. I might have had an interest in your Wards powers in an academic sense, you are quite correct," Armstrong interjected, and on the other side of the line Piggot pursed her lips. "But my academic interests do not supersede the safety of any Ward."

"Then what the hell happened in those chambers, Armstrong?"

Kamil leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

The last few hours had been an utter mess on a level that had him wondering whether he should drop some part of personality he had worked so hard to cultivate, and hand out a few ass beatings. He liked to think of himself as one of the more laid back, even approachable directors.

He had helped the Boston PRT become a safe place for Case-53's, made sure that Weld had all the music and facilities he needed to settle in...

And now look at this shitshow.

"A piece of information was not brought to my attention, or was neglected on the part of my agents, when your Ward displayed a new aspect to her power in the form of a shaker-effect cancellation field--" as it had been described to him in his documents, alongside numerous, excited notes and scribblings "--my agents failed to inform me that it had also affected Bastions shields. I was led to believe that it was a directed effect that Ordinant was specifically using on the bubble, and that all of Bastion's shields had been left in place. Had that been the case, then she would have been protected from the Changer long enough for an evacuation to take place."

"I see."

Of course, Emily reflected.

Somebody just happened to leave some small element out.

Like say, that the Cape support had been pulled, over stretched, or was being pulled back...

"Well, it doesn't matter what might have happened, Armstrong." Piggot's voice was clipped. "What matters is what happened. Now I have a psychologically compromised teenager with a power whose numbers keep going up in ratings, and who half the Directors in the country will be chomping at the bit to have under their supervision."

A psychologically compromised teenager sure was one way to phrase it.

Ordinant has been so obstinate that she slammed down her fist on the table at a point when his junior director attempted to argue that she should stay, that there would be no taxis at this time of night that could take her back to Brockton Bay. A straight up attempt at misdirection that he would be taking the woman to town to about later in the night, because she and some of the others screwed the pooch on this entire affair!

Apparently, a solid crystal fist created a hell of a bang, as well.

"More important, Coleson said that Ordinant recovered?"

"That is my understanding, she snapped out of a near fugue state and declared that she was going to break the loops and return to Brockton Bay, she threatened to get a taxi."

Piggot felt some tiny measure of pride at that.

Smart girl.

Ordinant had made out to be a meek, even somewhat pathetic figure each time she had presented herself to Piggot; stuttering or correcting herself to include her full title in a manner that a lot of newer Ward's did.

But it was good to see that the girl had a backbone, and a sense of duty as well, Coleson had reported back about her determinate to help the time looped victims.

True character came out under fire.

That was something you learned over the years in the PRT, or any organisation that dealt with situations like they did.

The strongest seeming character could fold like a paper bird, the meekest could prove strong.

"And my Agent has also been heavily injured from what I heard as well?" One of her better agents, Gabriel Coleson had been with the Brockton Bay PRT for over ten years, there was a reason that he had been chosen to oversee this entire affair.

"Yes. Without Panacea he'll be blind in his left eye, and he suffered numerous lacerations that could have proven fatal without medical aid."

She needed to ask a favour of New Wave, then.

For a minute she was silent, during which time Armstrong allowed his fellow Director to think. In the manner of a man who had been in an office far too long, he pinned the phone to his neck with his chin and began hammering on his computer.

There were enough emails in his inbox to fill a few hours in replying to, emails of the recordings and a few reports from various individuals who had been present. One of the troopers who had a body cam had submitted his own footage from a different angle, no doubt all of this would need to be processed and put together to get a full and comprehensive picture or recreation of what occurred.

There was also the medical teams report on Ordinant and Coleson.

The word laceration and 'near arterial miss' turned up far too often for his liking.

Ordinant's healing factor had them confident that she would make a full recovery, but even then, he would recommend she see Panacea.

A brief diagnostic report on the liquid metal that had made up the cape; it was mercury, so the two would need to go through some manner of detox, there were limited capes who could remove heavy metals from a person's system.

"So, what do you intend to do with this situation now?" Piggot spoke up.

He tabbed out of the reports and emails

"There are no more Grey Boy loops left in Boston, she will never need to come back for that. Youth Guard is going to be on my ass and I have a lot of people to talk to, a good number of whom will never be working for the PRT again," he said, straightforwardly. "Beyond that, I'm going to find a way to at least somewhat improve the girl's condition. We don't have any healers, but we were going to have Prosthetist in the next week to take care of some folk who got caught in the crossfire between Accord's lot and some local independents. We'll cancel it."

"I see, making space so that she can come to Brockton Bay sooner?"

"Yes."

He had no doubt that with the reveal of her full power, Ordinant would have been pushed to the very top of the priority list anyway.

"I see. I also need Yamada, because I have no doubt that Ordinant needs a lot of therapy."

No doubt, Armstrong thought.

The recording of the actual incident with the triggered parahuman had been brutal and sudden; it spoke of Ordinant's character that within moments of seeing the danger of the situation to the unpowered people present she took a stand, but it was also frankly hard to watch.

Armstrong had seen it three times over and he still struggled to fully understand just how a perfect storm could have occurred.

The man triggering? Well within the likely range of response, seeing what he had been through.

But the power combination was almost perfectly designed to be a headache, a liquid metal sludge that rendered ballistics near pointless and was also to slice and avoid the use of containment foam as an option. Even had Bastion been up he likely would have struggled unless he could fully enclose the man in a wall of shields. But for a teenager to have to reach into the material and pull out the Corona Pollentia and destroy it, that was the PR disaster of PR disasters.

Even if most of the details could be kept under wraps, Ordinant's experience was the sort of thing that cautionary examples were made of, and Boston already had one of those after Bastion's less than politically correct comments.

"Technically she's not under my jurisdiction, but I think after being there herself she will insist on seeing Ordinant anyway."

~~~~~

Cauldron

"There has been an escalation in a recent promising Cape."

Papers were handed out, they all glanced over a rather plain looking girl with glasses. Contessa did not need to look at the paper a great deal, she had known that it would be handed out and the broad strokes of the information within.

"She's an Oort-Spider victim?" Legend said, surprise laced in his tone as he frowned. "I didn't realise that any of them were still around."

"Not many naturally occurring ones who survived its arrival, she and another survivor were the closest to the crash and saw it first hand," Alexandria explained as the group reviewed the document. It was an efficient thing, no need for personality traits or background information beyond the necessary, most of the paper was focused on the girls' powers.

"It is interesting that she has a power and can still use it despite the condition, this must be a first, correct?"

"Correct, an anti-shaker power limited to things she touches packaged with a minor brute ability to become immune to powers already used on her," Rebecca explained. "But she can break the time loops created by Grey Boy."

That got some interest. Legend blinked and spoke up.

"How was this missed?" There were several loops in New York, much like with Boston the Slaughterhouse Nine only made a brief visit after Keith got involved. Even the Nine were somewhat wary about spending too long in a city helmed by a cape who can bombard you with blasts far outside of your range.

"She did not show the capacity before, some are thinking that her power was holding back the crystal, but that in truth it is a radius-based shaker-cancellation field."

Now that was of interest. Contessa watched keenly the way the various members of the Triumvirate reacted. Legend was the most obviously engaged, whilst Eidolon simply continued looking over the paper with a frown on his face. Alexandria had her poker face on, although Contessa noticed the way that she avoided looking at the pictures of the girl's crystallised limbs, Rebecca had lost a lot of good people during the first engagement of the Spider, and had had to put down a few of them herself when their powers went out of control.

"It seems that her power was either not investigated properly or has displayed some new function, I was wondering if it was perhaps dependent on her own perceptions of it. During an interview afterwards she described it as a 'burst', although we have no indications yet on how frequently she can perform this function, its likely that there are further applications that have not been investigated or attempted, such as a directed blast or permanent field."

"A wide-ranging anti-shaker used properly would invalidate quite a few problems that we might face in the future," Dr. Mother commented clinically. "It says here that recently her arm crystallised as well? Out of nowhere?"

"It was in response to newly triggered parahuman going berserk, we have people looking into it but we are not sure what happened. The infection has not progressed along her bones to reach the arm. There is a suggestion that to kill a threat her power had extend from her body, leaving the limb vulnerable and the crystal took advantage of that."

"... That opens up a lot of worrying possibilities, I believed that the crystal could only infect areas in contact."

Cauldron's own investigations into the material had been extensive, although mostly performed using proxies on Earth Bet. The substance was simply too dangerous if it got out of control, whilst crystal that was removed from Quarantine Zone-09 did not appear to infect new material, discretion was the better part of valour.

"The girl needs to be observed," Dr. Mother declared unanimously.

There was no need for votes or anything of the sort, what Dr. Mother ordered was what would happen and there could be little doubt in this circumstance. Already several options were being examined, the organisation had such a vast number of disparate Parahuman's to draw upon, whether by crook or by hook.

"Does Ordinant factor into any plans, Contessa?"

"No. Like other people with the crystal, she is hard to factor in easily."

Crystallisation sufferers became increasingly impossible to plan around as the condition progressed, for the most part it was inconsequential, they would all eventually become immobile living statues with no capacity to interact with the world and they were unable to trigger as Parahumans.

But the odd way they interacted with her power until that point, throwing off her power or even warping events had proven to be quite the headache. Fortunately, they were mostly confined to a small space in the north-eastern United States, and the three Capes who had contracted the crystallisation and survived the fight with the Spider had mercifully escaped the fates of those whose powers went out of control.

They got to die in the peace and serenity of slow, painful paralysis instead.

"I see. Who do we have who can report back on her?"

"Battery and Coil. We also have Gallant, who is in the Wards with her," Kurt replied.

"Send them a message to keep an eye on the girl."

When all was said and done, the various parties departed. The Triumvirate returned to their respective cities, Number Man went to his office to take care of some of his banking concerns, and soon it was just Contessa.

Contessa allowed herself a rare moment to muse on her situation.

The crystal continued to be a thorn in her side. No, the Spider continued to be a thorn, both to her and Cauldron in general. Her power treated the creature the same way it treated Scion and the Endbringers. It was a blind spot, but one that did not move, since it landed it had moved less then a millimetre and seemingly dedicated its existence to being Earth Bet's most dangerous statue.

But things had been warping and changing since then, and she had a strong suspicion that the creatures metaphorical spiderweb was the reason why.

Her attempts to try and find out more about the creature and the reason for her powers odd behaviour led her to a particular data set captured by the Keck telescope, atop Mauna Kea, Hawaii.

She may not be an astronomer, but she found the right person to leave no doubt about it anyway.

The 'Campbell Micronova,' named for the first person to observe it, a graduate student. A period of intense activity that had been compared to a miniature star flaring into existence in a patch of space mostly occupied by white dwarfs and other stars not expected to die for several billion years.

Further analysis however had thrown up other oddities, calculating the distance to the event had thrown up all sorts of errors. The Campbell Micronova was only about eighty-thousand astronomical units away from Earth, a vast distance utterly incomprehensible to the average mind but in astronomical terms, a stones throw away.

RA 2h 41m 39s, Dec. 89 15′ 51″

Those exact coordinates were the source of the event, varying erratically by a small degree, for ten minutes and then suddenly it stopped. At the time it had been put down to an error in the recording software, although a small number of individuals in the astronomical community also suspected that it was a refracted object that had been distorted by the cloud cover on the night. It was something of a heavy-handed explanation, the Kess telescope was one of the largest in the world and had been serviced just a few weeks before.

The entire event was barely captured, no telescope had been specifically focusing on that point and by the time they had the event was mostly over.

But it was also at that time that her power began to act weirdly, when it at once became a lot more cautious, for want of a better word.

Those coordinates were also the direction that the Spider had come from. Whatever happened in the void of space had impacted on her power, but almost no others on Earth.

Since that moment, her power had changed.

It was like her power was doing everything to avoid the Spider.

~~~~~

Emma

Taylor was asleep.

She looked exhausted, weak, and worn, the stresses of her day evident in the way she kept frowning, unable to truly settle and fitful in the extreme. Every few minutes she would shift and Emma would gently raise her arm from its place around her friend's shoulder so that she could wriggle and make herself comfortable again.

Emma did not sleep, did not dare. Instead, she watched Taylor rest, and thought.

When she got to the doctors earlier today, she had expected to hear the normal, that her crystallisation was slow, that there was barely any change. She made a point of never really looking at her legs, she washed them with her eyes closed, changed without looking at them and only ever wore pants. She did not expect to hear that it had progressed by a whole six goddamn centimetres, a fact hammered home by how it being pointed out made them ache...

The crystallisation was mostly below the skin, enough to not be immediately apparent on the surface but there, nonetheless.

The frantic panic, the terror that had consumed her had been like a furnace, burning away all thoughts of schoolwork and other concerns in her life, leaving just two overwhelming instincts that she could not deny; hide away in her room where she was safe... and get Taylor back at any cost.

And Taylor had come, as she always did.

Taylor was so loyal, so attentive and keen to be there for her. She had barely said anything about what she had been doing down south, but Emma knew that whatever work had necessitated her to be in Boston must have been something important if they wanted her to keep so utterly silent on the matter. Her text messages had been so run of the mill it was almost painful, and there had been a lot of apologies for being unable to say more.

Not that Emma cared. Whatever they had been having Taylor do, she would not have minded so long as she was safe.

Unfortunately, she had evidently put far too much trust in the PRT.

And now Taylor's arm was crystal. It was glinting at her even now, from the corner of her eye. Emma had a double layered, extra thick set of blackout blinds to block out the millions of teeming eyes that hung in the night sky, and now her friend's compromised limb stared at her.

Emma pulled up the cover to hide it, she did not want to look at the hateful crystal.

Most people would think it frankly odd that Emma and Taylor still shared a bed during sleepovers, but for the longest time Emma had almost been closer to Taylor than with her own sister. They were as close as fingers bound in a fist, they were like peas in a pod or any other similar analogy, although none would ever do it justice. Emma needed Taylor, and Emma hoped that Taylor needed Emma in the same way. Sometimes the worry kept her awake at night, not the worries for the future or about her inevitable end, but worry that Taylor might leave her, might get bored or move away or just... move on from her.

She could not bear the idea.

Her solitary hand reached up to rest on top of Taylor's non-crystallised one. Heh... they were a match now, with both legs crystallising, and now Taylor's right arm was messed up, just like Emma's left.

... It was horrible. What a horrible fate they had both fallen into. If Emma had just ran and left Taylor behind that night, perhaps she would not be in this state. She would be happy and healthy, able to go about her life without the constant thoughts, without the proverbial ticking clock. Instead, she had dragged Taylor the half-mile to safety, meeting up with other kids, most of whom were dead now. Did she regret it?

... There were times...

But Emma and Taylor, they were survivors.

That Hess girl at school had no idea what she was talking about, the one time she approached them in the cafeteria. There were no humans that were predators, all of them were merely survivors with different levels of armament. Emma and Taylor had survived the ultimate predator on the planet, and every day they endured and survived it further. What could that bitch possibly have done to compare to that?

...

Before that night Emma had had the entire world to claim for herself, but like this, with legs of crystal, she could never get a normal job or fall in love conventionally.

Not that she would want to, anymore.

The problem with having a condition like this was that it well and truly showed just who you could trust in this life. When she came back and other people learned about it, when the reports of how the Protectorate had mustered and failed to so much as inconvenience the Spider had emerged suddenly every one of her friends abandoned her, all apart from Taylor. it had been a harsh slap to the face, a lesson that Emma had never allowed herself to forget since;

The only friend she needed was Taylor.

But there was a ray of hope now, this Prosthetist woman. If she could get new legs and perhaps a replacement for her half arm, if she could replace Taylors arm and legs.

She just wanted it to shut up for a moment, she had Taylor back next to her now so there was no reason for that... thing to worry. Like a nagging parent, it had prevented her from having a moment of peace or rest whilst her friend had not been at her side... And it had allowed the crystallisation to accelerate as a lesson and a motive to drag Taylor back.

The thing that protected her, bringing out the stick the moment that the carrot did not work.

She hated it almost as much as she hated the Spider at this point.

But once they were both better, when they could both clank about on metal legs and remember with equal horror and relief the times when they had both suffered... then it would shut up. They would be able to go to college, they would be able to get better and recover... maybe even--

Her alarm went off, a traditional sort, Anne brought it back from college for her. Taylor jolted and shifted, whining in that adorable way she did.

Emma reached out, gripped the alarm clock and crushed it to pieces.

Taylor needed her sleep; Emma shushed her back into rest. It wasn't until the sun rose that Emma allowed herself to drift off the same way, safe and sound beside her friend.

3.1

Her father was there for her.

Taylor had woken the night after her return to Brockton Bay in Emma's bed, the redhead still asleep. She had slipped out, headed downstairs with the intention to make herself a bowl of her favourite sugar cereal (the Barnes seemingly kept a box of it set aside for her, sometimes with her name written on it) to find her father at the table with a cup of joe in one hand and a phone utterly depleted of charge beside it.

He looked, for want of a better term, like shit, big black bags under his eyes and shoulders slumped.

She barely had a moment before she was enveloped in a Dad hug, had he stayed up the entire night so that he could be awake when she got up? Had he even slept in the last twenty-four hours? It didn't look like it, but the fact that he had waited up for her...

As she would find out later, the PRT had taken quite the verbal thrashing from an enraged Daniel Hebert, who had had the director of PRT ENE on the phone for over two and a half hours in what would later come to be recorded as the single longest phone call Director Piggot had ever had to endure at the hands of a civilian.

Apparently, the calls to various other parties, including with the Youth Guard had been even longer, and she could scarcely imagine just what was going to come of them. In a strange state father and daughter remained for a little bit, despite it being just a few days so much had happened in that time that it almost felt like weeks, once more Taylor recounted everything that had happened at his insistance.

Her father listened passively, only once she got to the event that cost her arm did he inquire for more details, a vein pulsing in his temple. But he was so tired that rather than getting full on angry he simply simmered.

Towards the end of that conversation Zoe Barnes entered the room wrapped up in a big, fluffy dressing gown and, after saying her greetings, revealed that she had tried to 'take that blasted phone away from him' to make sure that he would not wake up Emma and Taylor.

That her father simply went into the somewhat expansive garden of the Barnes and continued the calls there had made her chuckle, imagining her father trampling the lawn and flower beds at four in the morning as he terrorised various governmental agencies.

Taylor couldn't find it in her heart to feel bad about siccing her father on the PRT.

Actually... It made her feel a little happy.

Her dad loved her, he really did, it felt odd to think in a strange way, were other people proud of her? Had the PRT been proud of her efforts with the bubbles, would they say as much when she next went in, would she become known as the breaker of bubbles, the destroyer of Gray Boy loops? Who knows what sort of weird fame she could achieve with that; she had tried not to think about it much. Her power was simple and boring, but if she became known for helping those people, would she even take pleasure from it?

Well, perhaps it would be nice to have people recognise her for something like that.

"Taylor--"

"Dad, I want the prosthetics." She did not prevaricate like last time, did not feel the same doubt or hesitancy. Last time her father had been firm that it was something she could consider, that he had started talks about it. But had her own feelings been so obvious to him that he had felt guilt, or worried about it all?

The look of relief that crossed her fathers face said it all.

"Emma is going to get treatment as well, we've already confirmed it, so you won't be doing it alone Taylor," Zoe had said as she put half a grapefruit on a plate in front of her, causing Taylor to wrinkle her nose. Auntie Zoe always insisted on fruit at breakfast, but Taylor hated grapefruit.

"I'm glad," she really was.

~~~~~

Returning to Ward duties felt odd.

Donning the outfit of Ordinant, the newest Ward of Brockton Bay felt subtly wrong.

The last time she wore the semi-armoured outfit she had killed a man with the same ease one would crush a grape, and as she did so she wondered when a replacement would arrive; the arm was ruined after all and she would rather have a replacement that could hide away the crystal.

At least in her room in the Ward's quarters she could set up the little star display (Boston had sent it on, apparently) and change in peace without the feeling of eyes on her back.

Was Coleson somewhere in the building, she wondered. It had been a few days since the Boston debacle and she had not heard about him, she hoped he was okay.

She rather had the feeling that a lot of people were walking on eggshells now, there had been a lot of messages from various folks in the last three days since her return; power testing appointments keen to get her in and PR wanting to speak with her as well to discuss things 'going forward'. Frankly, she had wanted to tell both to shove their meetings.

But practicality won out, she had scheduled them for the future, because frankly she was not going to be doing any active hero-ing until after she recovered from the operations.

Tonight, she was just on console duty. She probably would be for quite awhile.

Stepping out of her room and returning to the main room, she found that somebody else had arrived.

"Hey, Ordinant."

It was Gallant, he was not due to be on patrol tonight, was he? She had only been away for a few days but the schedules had gotten all messed up in her head.

"Hey," self-consciously, she put her arm behind her back.

"We heard what happened," he sounded apologetic, Taylor felt her heart sinking at that. "You broke some of Grey Boy's bubbles, right? That's amazing you know, we actually held a party to celebrate for you, we were gonna' send pictures but then Clock froze the phone," he said, a small hint of amusement to his tone.

She could see it; it brought just the smallest of unbidden smiles to her lips.

"Yeah, I broke them... not sure how much quality of life those people will have though..."

"That's still amazing, you know... I can't imagine what they've been through."

"Yeah..." she was not about to comment further on that, she could still see the things that the man she killed had been going through, it was such an unmitigated horror that it made her feel sick just dwelling on it for too long. "It was rough, probably against some laws for me to be seeing it to be honest but I am glad I could help them at least..."

Gallant stared at her for a few moments, that mostly featureless, sci-fi style helmet was utterly blank whilst she had her lower face for showing expressions.

"... You ever need to talk, we're here you know, Ordinant,"

It was so strange to hear.

For the longest time it was just Emma that she could talk to about things like that, or at least, she was the only person who understood.

"... Thanks."

She was not sure if she would, to be honest.

Was it even possible for people who did not have the crystallisation to understand what it was like? But the gesture, the sentiment was there, and she was not so far down the rabbit hole that she could not recognise that.

"You guys heard about... my arm, right?"

"Yes." He was straight up about it, and after a moment she reluctantly brought her arm from behind her back. She could not tell if Gallant looked at it--

"Do you mind if I take the helmet off? I don't really bother with it around teammates," he asked. Taylor blinked at the completely normal tone of voice, as if he was not suddenly looking at a girl with an arm made of solid rock--oh wait, was he trying to distract her? Like a nurse with a needle asking about your holidays right before sticking it in?

"O-Okay, sure."

She knew that Wards unmasked around one another, but it was surreal for one of them to be doing it to her.

"Normally we get to the mask off stage earlier in knowing each other," he joked, "but you went to Boston so quick that we never got to do face to face introductions, I'm Dean," with that he took the helmet off, revealing a handsome young man below, one who had a smile on his lips.

"Taylor," she said automatically, then realised that she still had her visor on, and reached up to take it off.

"Don't feel obliged to unmask, if you don't want," Dean offered, but she still gripped the little catch that disconnected it from the rest of the headpiece.

"Nah... it's okay," she took it off, setting the visor aside.

"You mind me telling the others? They'll probably want to do proper face to face's soon as well."

"Yeah... that would be nice."

~~~~~

Sat in a doctor's chair, Taylor watched the visiting cape from New York look over her file.

Prosthetist was a small woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties who dressed in slacks and looked far too relaxed to be any sort of medical professional. Her left hand looked to be made of small porcelain plates placed over machinery, it moved in such a smooth, even way that it looked just a little uncanny. She seemed pleasant enough in conversation, but when it came to examining Taylor for the purpose of the procedure...

"Okay then. If I may?"

Taylor dutifully rolled up the sleeve of her outfit to allow the Tinker access to her arm, looking away as the woman leaned down.

The edges of the crystal had started to ache, just like at the edge of the material on her legs. A reminder that the material did not care for its gains in the last week, that it wanted more. The flesh was inflamed around it, the immune system trying to fight it back unsuccessfully even with the assistance of her power.

A tap from a metallic probe.

"We'll take it from here," a finger poked into her skin, a centimetre or so above the crystallisation. "According to the X-Rays the crystallisation is almost perfectly evenly distributed and hasn't spread any quicker to the bone and surrounding muscular structure, yes?" The question was more for the nearby medical staff as it was for her.

"Yes, although on the legs the crystal has advanced a few centimetres further up the femur then is visible on the surface."

"We'll have to remove an additional few inches to be sure."

Numb, Taylor idly twitched her fingers to distract herself from the medical talk as she was almost ignored.

Prosthetist had a terrible bedside manner. It had been the same earlier when they had her try to use her power on a prosthetic hand, the woman watching with narrowed eyes as if daring Taylor to try and break it. Her power had no effect, thankfully.

Emma had her appointment after hers, she would have to hear the exact same blunt statements about how much of her body she would be losing. Emma would have the procedure before her, they had not said it, but she could tell why, to use as a test to make sure it would work. The thought made her sick, that Emma would be being used as the trial run... but then again, the sooner Emma was safe, the better.

When she got out, she would put on a smile and make it seem as if it was nothing much, that would help allay any worries or concerns that her friend would have about this little appointment. Yeah... so long as Emma felt safe and happy, then that would be consolation enough for Taylor.

~~~~~

Ordinant had been invited to Armsmaster's workshop.

It was a rare honour, most never had the opportunity.

At the moment it was shared between Brockton's home town Tinker and Prosthetist however.

"You're a lucky Ordinant, most crystallisation victims never had this option," Armsmaster was saying. "As it is, you will likely need yearly check ups and maintenance on your new limbs, but they are coming along well. Prosthetist has done the majority of the work, but I offered to take a look as well and see if I can make some additions."

Lucky? Lucky?!

Slowly Taylor turned her head to focus on the tinker rather than his work.

It would be so selfish to correct him, to question him.

But if a person ever called her lucky again then she might just inflict violence on them. She was coming to hate that word.

Looking back to the arm on the bench, she did not bother with a response. The prosthetic was intricate and beautiful, but incomplete.

A little piece of machinery delicately installed here, a poke with a tool there and the arm twitched. It was so quiet as well, barely above a low whirr. It was a marvel of engineering between two geniuses. So, this was a Tinker at work, there were videos online that showed famous Tinkers performing their maintenance or even creating new things. A video of the late Hero had accrued hundreds of millions of views, dozens of comments every day discussing the incredible work he did and his legacy.

"... Do you want anything special?"

"Pardon?"

"A lot of people, from my research, take a while to adjust to prosthetics, with a greater chance of depression and body dysmorphia," Armsmaster began, bluntly. "The standard solution is to attempt to replicate the natural skin colour to decrease the extent of alienation--" he stopped himself suddenly and she had the distinct impression that he was frowning. The others had said that Armsmaster could be a little... blunt.

But he was trying.

"Sorry. I--we, know that this will be a tough time for your Ordinant, I want to make your replacements as close to perfect for you as possible, if you want slightly longer nails for the hand, for instance, or cosmetic alterations that would help you adjust better."

Somehow, that question made her want to cry.

"It's... it's alright, sir. Sorry. Just having an arm will do, to be honest."

She really was being selfish, she found herself looking away with a pit of guilt forming in her stomach.

"... Are you alright?"

"... No, no I don't think that I am."

It was a strange thing to admit, but Armsmaster nodded. He leaned back from the table and looked at her, although with his visor perhaps the expression he was sending her way was a little muted.

"We are not going to be expecting much from you in the next few weeks as you adjust, Ordinant." The delivery was blunt, and perhaps he recognised that. "This is a big thing, and I have known other people who were in the same situation."

But those people could visit Panacea. For whatever reason, she had been firmly told in the past that no, regrowing a new leg was not a solution. But cold, hard practicality that had settled over her.

"The department is organising some therapy appointments to help you adjust, I know that you are not keen on them, at least your documents say so, but it will be a major part of your recovery and hopefully will let you come to terms with things faster."

Some of those things did not need to be said. Taylor hated therapists, she had been forced to see one once when she idly commented that the crystal felt safe and familiar. After that, she had avoided such topics and done her best to hide away. She hated having to speak so openly about her feelings on things with strangers, but that was over a year ago. The world had kept turning and now she was in this situation. It was likely a good thing, really.

Anything to help her get over all this.

For a few minutes she simply watched Armsmaster continue to work on her new arm.

The arm was the priority treatment, because if the crystallisation spread to the shoulder, then there would be little if anything that could be done to save her. The legs were comparatively far away, they could be left a few weeks longer if needed.

"Do you think that my powers will extend to the new limbs?"

"I doubt it, to be frank, but your power has proven a unique case in other ways, perhaps you will be lucky."

Her fist clenched automatically.

3.2

With a tub of grapes in one hand and selection of flowers in the other, Taylor waited patiently outside the door.

Beyond, she could hear conversation, the deep voice of a man and a pair of female voices, sometimes soft, something unable to hide their joy. She had been hovering awkwardly outside the door for well over five minutes now, trying to wait for a lull in the conversation, trying to find the right moment. Was she supposed to wait until it was her turn, in this circumstance? That seemed like the correct thing to do in many ways, but at the same time she really, really wanted to see how things were.

Finally, she found the confidence to knock on the door awkwardly, some small part of her hoping that it would not be heard. But if it wasn't heard... she would have to knock again.

After a moment, the door opened.

It was Anne, the elder Barnes daughter who had come back from college to spend time with Emma after the procedure, and upon seeing Taylor she smiled, a bigger, happier smile than Taylor had seen from the girl in years.

"Taylor!"

She had to move the grapes to the side to make sure they did not get squished between herself and Anne, awkwardly standing in place trying to hug back purely with her forearms.

"Hey Anne, how are things?"

"I--great, she's still woozy but she's conscious, they're all working, the work is incredible! I'm so relieved..." Anne pulled back, and Taylor could see the faintest hints of tears in the corner of the young woman's eyes, as if the realisation that all was well had only just hit and now she was catching up on the emotions. Taylor could sympathise, despite the hours that she had been obsessively checking her phone, when the message came through from Alan to say that all was okay and the surgery was over she had just stared at the words for a good five minutes, struggling to comprehend it all.

Emma was safe.

And then she broke down and cried in her room in relief for a good fifteen minutes, then jumped to her feet, a great rush of energy seeing her out of the house and grabbing the presents before bullying dad into taking her to the PRT building.

"You'll be next, right? I mean, um, I heard what happened, Emma wouldn't say exactly but... yeah," Anne looked to the crystallised hand holding the flowers. Despite her perfectly normal control over the limb, she had been worried to hold the grapes with the arm, on the off chance she crushed them to pulp.

"Yeah, I'm tomorrow," she said, trying to sound positive.

If it worked for Emma, then it would work for her. The sooner they lopped off the loathsome limbs the better, even if it would restrict the touch related part of her power. But now that she could use it in a more directed manner, so did that really matter? It would be hard to adjust, but she would have physiotherapy, and apparently Prosthetist's limbs were almost like having normal ones with only a little adjustment.

"... Ah what the hell, come in Taylor, mum and dad won't mind you," Anne said, and opened the door. "Guys, Taylor's here!"

Alan Barnes looked as though he had been through a war, Zoe was clutching Emma's hand, both looking towards the door and at her.

"Hey Taylor, come in, she only woke up about an hour ago."

Taylor stepped in, looking towards Emma.

"... You're looking good, Emma," Taylor said, smiling at her friend.

Despite her own fears and concerns, she was glad that the procedure had gone so well.

"Hey Taaaay," Emma was still somewhat zonked out it seemed, her gaze was a little glassy even as she raised the prosthetic arm and gave her a little wave. It looked so natural, it was not until Taylor looked closer that she could see some of the joints in the material, the new limb articulated so naturally that from a small distance away it appeared perfectly normal. Her legs were covered by the blanket, but they were unmistakably there.

Taylor took a seat at the bedside, setting down the grapes and the flowers, Emma's eyes followed them both but without really seeing or comprehending them.

"Thanks for coming to see me Taaay" she said.

"Of course I'd come to see you Emma." She had been waiting all day for that call. "I know you like lily's, um, we might need to ask for a jug or something to put them in."

"Hehe, how nice, you're nice to me Taylor, I've missed you..."

Taylor was not sure of just how cognizant of her surroundings Emma really was, would she normally say something like that, something with such weight and gravitas? Well, it did not matter, normally it was Taylor who was somewhat socially unaware of the two of them, she would forgive it from her friend when she was drugged to the gills.

"How are you feeling?" Taylor asked to distract Emma. Not that the others seemed to mind much.

"Great! Yeah, it's... it doesn't ache anymore," she sounded positively delirious.

Taylor glanced at Zoe, Alan, and Anne, all of whom seemed just a little concerned.

"... Probably just the drugs, she was talking about pink elephants when she woke up," Alan said with some small, slightly strained humor.

"After you I won't hear anything again, we'll be free..." the way Emma said that, there was so much relief, so much happiness in her words, the weight behind the statement was enormous.

"Yeah, you are. I'm so glad for you Emma," she patted the redhead's hand. "I'll be having my operation tomorrow--"

"I'll come visit you!" an instant statement, it was the first time Emma had not sounded just a little zonked out, although the practicality of her promise was another matter, would they even let Emma come visit her? They might just keep Taylor in the same ward anyway, they would be able to have drug-fuelled conversation with one another across the room.

When all was said and done, Taylor did not really have long to speak with Emma. The redhead wanted her to stay, and had even taken Taylor's hand in a fierce grip but eventually she succumbed to her own exhaustion and the drugs, falling asleep.

Returning to the corridor outside, Taylor felt a little of the nerves in her gut settle even if her arm and legs were aching where the crystal joined flesh.

Zoe and Anne both gave her a big hug, a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for coming along before they left to head out to the car. Alan though waited behind, hands behind his back as if waiting for them to go. When they had turned the corner, he spoke up.

"Are you ready for tomorrow, Taylor?"

She looked away, rubbing at her elbow.

"Yeah... it's kind of scary to think about, but seeing Emma makes it a bit better... y'know?"

"Yeah, I can get that. She was worried as well, but she's a trooper," Alan sounded proud, and Taylor nodded. "We're so glad that you've been there for her, Taylor."

"Oh, um... well, she's my friend."

'Of course I would be' went unspoken.

Alan's smile was a little fixed at that.

"Yeah, well, a lot of people didn't think so but you've stuck with Emma through it all, I genuinely am not sure what things would have been like without you Taylor." To that Taylor could only stare, trying to think of the right words. What did you say to that? All that time she had just... done it. Alan looked from side to side a little self-consciously, then said, in a low voice. "Without you Emma might not have even gotten this treatment, so... thank you so much Taylor, anything we can do, just let us know," and with that he gave her a hug, a quick, tight thing that she got the impression was trying to say a lot in just a moment in time.

She hugged him back.

"Thanks, uncle Alan," she was a bit old to call him uncle, perhaps, but still.

"Let us know when you come out and we'll visit you, or have your dad do it, you'll probably be completely zoned out as well but we want to see you too, we'll bring Emma if we can."

"Thanks, um... thanks so much."

A final hug, and then she was alone as the man rejoined his family, and Taylor made her way back to the car.

~~~~~

Sitting waiting for something was a feeling she once hated.

Now, Taylor was used to it.

Sitting in a nest of blankets on her bed, her eyes tracked the heavens created by her little projector, sat in the room's centre. It was far more pretty, but equally as accurate as the patterns she had set up over the years with her sticky backs. Although the projector felt a little off in some ways, it did not really matter, she was just glad that Boston allowed her to keep the device after everything that happened.

Not that she did not kind of deserve it.

That bit of bitterness was going to stay for a while.

But anyway, Taylor was used to waiting, whether it be waiting for the next class, waiting to hear back from patrolling Wards, or even waiting to hear back about her results. Waiting patiently was something she did well now despite how she used to be so anxious to avoid that sensation when she was younger.

She had her surgery tomorrow, and despite the knowledge that she really should be asleep... she could not. Was it nerves on some level? Was it the fact that for so long she had dreamed and hoped for some miracle cure, and now it was happening?

She was all drawn into her own thoughts. She did that a lot, actually.

The computer screen on her desk opposite was dark. She had not felt that consuming drive to use it in the last few days and dive into information.

Well, that was not necessarily correct.

Taylor had felt the urge, but had not indulged in it, too busy keeping up with all the things going on in her life. She felt a little angsty, a little nervous, and in the past drowning in information had helped to settle those nerves.

But resolutely she stayed in her blanket nest and focused on the stars. Those distant heavens, in them there was real comfort, not in endless data.

Stars watched down on a person all their lives, the same stars had seen the entire of Human history, what would it be like, to sit at the edge of the solar system as it was forming and watch, at accelerated speed, the dust cloud condense into a protostar. Then, to watch the birth of the planets, the creation of the narrow conditions for life on Earth and Earth alone?

Well, there was other life out there of course.

Taylor had no doubt of that.

The Spider was an indication of that, even if it was an Endbringer it still came from the stars. Didn't the Simurgh come from the moon or something like that, as well? But Behemoth came from the bowels of the earth and Leviathan... probably just came out of the sea.

Alright, enough of that. She would not ruin her thoughts by dwelling on the Endbringer's. Instead, she checked her phone, logging in to check the support group to find a string of new messages, which was often a bad sign.

MagPies76 : Hello, I hope I have the right group. My name is Kirsten, Jame's sister, unfortunately he cannot use the text to speech anymore and to be honest he doesn't have much time left. He wants anyone who can to come to his funeral and I know its a bother but please can anyone who can do so? We cannot scatter his ashes but it's just going to be a memorial service when it happens.

Ra1ndrops : I'm sorry to hear that Kirsten, im literally crying James was so nice to me on my first day when I was all nervous I'll make sure i can come

SkySkyDaydream : I can't move anymore but I'll see if I can get them to give me a day out.

CreateRandom : So sorry Kirsten, please give james a hug from me, i'm not far i can come vist in hospital again?

CreateRandom : *visit

MagPies76 : That would be lovely Joe I am sure James would love to see you one last time.

Could she tell the group? Most of them were so far along... she and Emma were l... l... lucky, they could be saved but almost all the other members of the group were crystallised much further, even up their torso. She knew for sure that Ra1ndrops and CreateRandom, aka Aimee and Joe were in wheelchairs by now, because they posted pictures of a family barbeque and sports game they visited respectively.

Her fingers tapped out the message, consolations were coming in. Once there had been a lot more, but by now there were far fewer who could give kind words.

Another memorial service, Taylor had gotten used to those over the last two years, she had been to seven of them for her fellow sufferers.

LittleOwl : I'm so sorry to hear that Kirsten, please say hello from Taylor, I only got to meet James for that week but I've thought about him a lot since then.

That was the sort of thing to write, in truth Taylor had never really known the boy, he was rather annoying at the camp, overly enthusiastic and loud... but he was also nice enough to the kids who were scared and unsure about themselves, the sort of person who just innately drew people out of their shell.

But she could also imagine him, two years older than the somewhat athletic youth, lying in a hospital bed, consumed up to his mouth by the crystal, feeling it slowly crawling upwards towards his brain, aware of every moment of it.

This was the fate that she would get to avoid, this was the fate that Emma had already been saved from. Would she even be able to send that message to the group chat about a potential salvation, when most of them were so far along that one would have to cut their lower body off to prevent the crystal spreading further? She could press it in a great rush, and then it would be sent... but would it make a difference to them all?

No.

But she wanted to help.

You cannot save everyone, though.

Sighing, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her.

Later in the night, as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, Taylor saw a text come in.

Command (priority) : Alert to all available Protectorate members. Lung is rampaging in the docks and has engaged the Undersiders, all off duty non-Ward members requested.

Even later, barely awake, she would get another message to say that Lung had been apprehended, and she smiled. That was good news, a big win for the PRT, maybe it would help things in Brockton Bay a little and de-escalate some of the recent gang tensions?

3.3

Something was moving past.

A pair of vast things, things she had not seen before. Other things had moved through the cloud before, through the teeming planetesimals and comets that was her home, but never something like what she observed now.

They were such a vast distance away, but she could see their sinuous, slithering forms. They must be vast. In the aeons she had known she had not encountered such a form of life. Something that had evolved on the other side of the cloud of comets? It had been long since she had wandered through some of the patches of crystalline debris. Or did they come from outside of the system? Whatever the case, they were in her domain, if they were native yet unencountered then she would devour them to analyse the species for traits, if they were intruders then she would do the same.

Rising for the first time since a distant supernova had exploded, she curled up her limbs closer to her main body and departed from the surface of the crystal covered planetesimal she was on.

And now, a third one? Yes, it moved in a different manner, though. It slithered and squirmed, space distorted between the trio,

The larger of the pair and the third interacted, entwined, specks of golden light passed between them. Perhaps some manner of replication cycle like the one perpetrated by the living creatures within the crystal forests? As she continued her approach they remained in this state, only to break apart swiftly, the pair moved on, the third remained, slithering onwards.

S̜̑h͓̄e͍͗ would catch up, she would destroy the interloper.

It continued its way, had it failed to notice her?

She was close now.

A burst of some manner, electromagnetic radiation. It thought i͈ͤt̻ͨ/̤̐(̖̚ș͑ḧ̙́ḛ̅?̠̓)͓̔ was like it? Something of the same breed.

The distance continued to close, she was already closing vast distances at a time, another burst, stronger, it was coiling over itself, a defensive posture? Preparing for battle.

She released the full power of her nuclear heart, the surrounding void lit up as her body became a miniature sun.

The intruder recoiled, the final burst she received the most powerful yet. Her silver threads reached across the void, the revolution web snaring around the thing and pulling it in as she drew closer and closer. In a span of moments, they were engaged as the battle began.

Data.

Vast streams of it.

The creature was composed of it, and even if she only absorbed one-tenth of the information within it would be sufficient to provide for millions of years of low priority analysis. But right now, she was not doing anything of low priority. Concepts filled her mind that she had never conceived of before, alternate universes, the Cycle? Across countless worlds in countless realities there were other civilisations, nests of intelligent lifeforms that had been manipulated and observed by the creature.

She ripped and dug into it with claws and limbs even as she continued to burn like a miniature star.

The creature was a glut of information and she fed and devoured as she tore and burned her way into it.

The void around them warped and changed, it became solid, it became reactive gas, it moved backwards in time and in multiple timelines. To each alteration she forced her own dominion over it to return it to how it was. This was her territory, no matter what it did to change it this was her home and she would not see it changed.

The interloper was vast, enormous, even if it was smaller than the other two of its kind.

It was annihilating her mass and she was replacing it as quickly, it was trying to alter her molecular composition and warp her own structure, but she adapted to each new weapon. It ceased all possible organic life in a single moment and she promptly redefined her existence around a new concept.

A golden beam of light annihilated much of her multi-limbed body and pierced her core, within a moment she had repaired and restored.

Each effort she picked apart, adapted to, the golden beams were not working; it changed them. Suddenly it was dozens of smaller beams, focused, that cut like blades to dismember her limbed body. Countered, now those same beams were adapted into an inviolable lance that pierced through her core, aimed with the intention of destroying some manner of critical cognition centre.

She did not have one in the first place.

When it tried again she warped gravity through her supercell, in combination with one of its own powers, to send the golden lance right back at it, piercing the great beast with its own weapon.

It forced half of her body into a dimension of utter cold in which the stars were dead, then closed the gap to bifurcate her, she grew back. It developed dozens of spiked limbs tipped with a material as dense as the core of a neutron star and hammered away at her, she ripped them off, adapted her supercell to burn them entirely before they could make contact.

It was learning just as swiftly as her, one of its next attempts reduced her down to a solitary limb.

And the next. It was getting better at fighting her.

She demanded backup from the Cloud of Comets.

She restored and fired back with her own beams, each equal to the output of a solar flare and rapidly growing as the Cloud of Comets increased the energy it supplied her by orders of magnitude, punching holes straight through the creature just as it was on the cusp of victory.

The frozen planetesimals around them, strewn with crystalline life, were annihilated by the heat and the blasts of the cosmic battle between the two of them. She was digging in, deeper, deeper--

Space and time imploded in on itself as the creature fled from her silver web, what means it used to do so she did not know, but at once it had travelled a vast distance away, and it was slithering through the void with incredible speed.

I̳̚t̪ͭ(̻͆ṣͮh̲̀e͎͒?̮̄)̼ͯ had feasted and grown, destroyed and burned the third interloper. Even if s̫͆̒ḫ̱̍̒e̞͆/̫̈i̫̹͂t͎̓ͣ could not catch up with it...

For a long while s͈̺̃h̼͙̿ͯe̥͚̿ͫ/͎̦̑̃̔ͤi̭̼͗ť̜̭ͮͤ floated there, pouring over information, adapting, refining, positing. Such a strange organism, its notions, its theories, they were both incredibly limited yet incredibly advanced, it was as if millions of singular beings had conglomerated, a collective intelligence dispersed and unified yet also limited.

A call. A planet from the solar system.

It was a desperate, frantic thing.

The other pair, they had impacted it. It? Alternate versions. Alternate realities. The data i̫͊t̻̥͍̹͌/̥̊̚s̯̱͈͖̓ͭ́̊h̘̎͊͆̑ḙͧ was harvesting from this interaction was more than i̷̳̰͛̚i̫͊t̻̥͍̹͌/̥̊̚s̯̱͈͖̓ͭ́̊h̘̎͊͆̑ḙͧ had over the aeons of s̬̲̒̄̊h̦̤̾̿é̫̍/̙̐i̜̘̔̀t̝ͥs͖̗͖ͯ existence.

And now.

The planet was one of the smaller ones. Weaker. It lacked a planetary guardian due to the emergence of intelligent life on its surface.

And now some other version of it had been impacted due to it being the target of this species 'Cycle', the first 'hosts' were starting to emerge now. Observation and experimentation would occur, and then the planet would be destroyed. That was little concern to the Oort Cloud and i̭ͮͩ̽̿̈̎t͓̠̘͖̳͐ͭͬ̀̀ͅ/͇͓̝̣͗ͤ ͔̹͍̙̘͌ͧ̑̐̾h̠͔̓ͩ̓̂e͓̰̼̠͓͐ͪ̈́r͙̠ͮ by extension, the destruction of a planet would not impact the cloud of comets.

But, why had not the others responded?

i̭ͮͩ̽̿̈̎t͓̠̘͖̳͐ͭͬ̀̀ͅ paused. This line of inquiry had i̭ͮͩ̽̿̈̎t͓̠̘͖̳͐ͭͬ̀̀ͅ/͇͓̝̣͗ͤ ͔̹͍̙̘͌ͧ̑̐̾h̠͔̓ͩ̓̂e͓̰̼̠͓͐ͪ̈́r͙̠ͮ pondering as her secondary processes filtered the new data in the background.

The other planetary guardians were closer, there were multiple gas giants that could respond, and which were closer. Yet that planet was still sending out its message, only for the attempt to be silenced swiftly.

The invading life form, had they blocked off the call? Wait, a different inquiry line.

S̜̖̞̱͒͒ͯ̔h̥͉̜͉̫͋̀̌ẹ̱̈̈́̍̔́̈́/͕͇̠͕̦̫̓ͩͫͧ̋͛i̙͈̬̮̥̖ͫ͛͊t̬̥͙͚̹̮ͧ̈́̅ͯ was only hearing the call because she had partially assimilated the appropriate abilities from the third. The others would not hear.

Ḭ̲̆ͫ̌̇t͍̃ͨ was not h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑ duty to respond.

S͍̭ͦ̿̇̂̓̊ͤh͈̺̘͕ͤ̎ͅe͇̪͎̩̲̻̟̽̂̃̍̿/̳̰̜͙̈̆̈́̈́ȉ̻͈̬̮̳̽̊̔͌̏ẗ̤ͩ̃͋ had done her part. It was insignificant if the planet was destroyed. However, the vast amounts of data i̶̙̠̋́̎́̈̄͘t̸̩̖̬̳̻̺̊̈͊ had gleaned had already drastically enhanced its understandings. What further glut of information existed in those two larger specimens? There was much s̘̬̔͆͋͑h͙ͦ̌ͣͭ̈́̚ḙ͎͖͎̥̬̗̓̑̄ͬ͑ was missing, much i̜̥̯̯̫̚t͔͓̮͎ͤ̔̂͒s̞͍͉̃̓̋̅/̙̖̗̱͙͕ͫͅh̘̣̒ͮȅ̲͓̼̹̣͍̀ͣ͛ͧ̽r̜̼̔̿̈/͙͈̉̃̿̽̍̎w̦͇͙͈̦̐͆ḙ̮̲̝̟̂̓̓̾ needed to know. S͍̭ͦ̿̇̂̓̊ͤh͙ͦ̌ͣͭ̈́̚ḙ͎͖͎̥̬̗̓̑̄ͬ͑ wished to feed more.

i͍̯͍͑̇ͅͅt̤̃͂̓̚/̼̲̜͖̇ͮ̆ͅs͇̳͍̥̈́ͩ͛̓ḣ̲͎̤͎̔e̩̝̬̫ͮ̄ would follow and devour and consume. They were parasites, interdimensional parasites that fed on life. Not life like ĭ͙̊̒ͬ̽̇̒ͅt͙̬̜̺̫ͭͧ/̯͒ͪ͂ĥ̳̻̪͙͈̳̙̫̑e̠̼͆͒r̼̹̖̝̲͗̅ͬ̍̑͊̌, but on far more simple things. If the other planetary guardians would not hear the call, then it fell upon Ḭ̲̆ͫ̌̇t͍̃ͨ to do so.

They had passed through i̜̥̯̯̫̚t͔͓̮͎ͤ̔̂͒s̞͍͉̃̓̋̅/̙̖̗̱͙͕ͫͅh̘̣̒ͮȅ̲͓̼̹̣͍̀ͣ͛ͧ̽r̜̼̔̿̈ domain anyway. Once more s̘̬̔͆͋͑h͙ͦ̌ͣͭ̈́̚ḙ͎͖͎̥̬̗̓̑̄ͬ͑ pulled h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑ legs in and let loose a brief pulse of h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑ nuclear heart, for the first since the planets had formed moving with intention, moving towards the inner system. S͍̭ͦ̿̇̂̓̊ͤh͙ͦ̌ͣͭ̈́̚ḙ͎͖͎̥̬̗̓̑̄ͬ͑ passed the dwarf planets, past the gas giants and further inwards. Nothing impeded h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑, even the largest of life forms within the cloud had adapted to h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑ presence to such levels that they fled on sight, the kilometre wide crystal beings that fed on the radiation of distant stars, the ravenous packs of small beings that prowled and hunted the spaces between the crystal comets and planetesimals, all made way out of h̹̓e͔̖ͬ̈ͯ̐̔ř͕̟̟̗̻̼̳͑ path by as much space as they could.

As i͍̯͍͑̇ͅͅt̤̃͂̓̚/̼̲̜͖̇ͮ̆ͅs͇̳͍̥̈́ͩ͛̓ḣ̲͎̤͎̔e̩̝̬̫ͮ̄ approached i̺̪̩̒ͪͤẗ̰̣̬́̔̌ͭ/̘͇̻͉͛̍̌ͪͦ̌s̫͓̳̜̝ͬ̂ͧͥ̐͌h̝̤̮̯̃̃͐̂̃e̟̱̘͙͚̞̅̅̔̋ͩ͒ reformed h̲̫̻̝̘̘̄ͮẹ̱ͧ̀ͬ͑ͮr̠̜̻̗̊ͭ̈́̀͐ existence around new concepts, taking information from the consumed fragments of the third being.

If, on a conceptual level, s͇̫̓͑̏̾h̞̰̙͐ͫ̏e̟̹̠̙ͣ̇͗ was no different from those Shards, then the beings would have no capacity to recognise ẖ̦̫̻̮̑͂̋̄͛̓e͉͚͓͍̜ͮ͆ͅr̞̱̞͙̼̪ͫͮ̈́ as any different. The muted calls of the planet were again audible now, the recognition of their arrival as it flooded h͎ͥ͆̈e̲̝̓r̰̙ͪ̅̓̂̿̇ with information, directing h̝͚͖̲̆͋̔͆̽e̖̯̜̹ͮ̆̓̄ͅͅr̬̼͕̣̲͈̈́ to fall somewhere away from the civilised population.

Insignificant.

As the guardian, as the U̼̬̜ͭͬ̆͐͂ͭ̅̔l̯͈̖͈̯̹̪̱̿̄͆̊̌ͫ͒͊ͦ̎t̹̦͖̻̯̙̟͓͎̭̅̿i̦͓͒̎m̥͈͈͇̫̞̘͒ͬͫͪ͑ͨ̈́̒a͉͍͍̪͓̳͕̻̱̔̅͗t͍̘̤̪̠̯̦͖̳̫ͫ̃ͧ̽̓̂͛ͪ̚e̳̪͎̣̣ͫͣͫ̂ ̲̳͕̖̥̩͑ͤ͛̍ͥ̇O͖̻͉̝͚̮͖͚̔ͤͪ̿ͥ̄̋̽n̰̹̉͊̂̓͌͂͐̑e͖͙̦̝̠̳̬̖̐ͧ̃̅̐̋̽͛ of the cloud of comets, ĩ͈͓͈̻̻͕̝̲̏͂̇͂t̙̣ͧ̓ͩ̔͑/͎͑͋̒͒͂̃̓̒s͙̟̬̤̬̯̞̳ͤ̽ͫͧ̃͂̓h̜̲̆́̀̓͋͋̑e͖͚̞ͫͅ/͎̽ͫ̚w̠̲̪͙̜̘̮ͬ̊̅̽̈́e̫̤̫̘̰̤̗̞̽ͮ̉̀ was here to answer the call.

~~~~~

D̳͙̯̖̯ͨͮ̐͆͗̐̚ê̼͍̬̥͕͌̓ͅp̻͈̤̻̠̭̬͇̫̘̩͑̓ͧl͖̳̳̠̝͙̭̬̺̟̣̪ͤ̌̑̎ͭͮo̘̙̠̟̜͕̠͍̳̿̽ͥͧ͗͗ͣ̒̔ͩͥỹ͚̹̥̘͍̹̣̋̓͛̐ͧi̠̤͖̲̞͎̭̞͕̋̿ͮ͋͌̏͆̋̚n͚̪̘̯̱̎ͪ̇̐́̂̇̌́ͅg̥͓̻̬̊ ̺͔͉͈̠̥͕̮͍̝̀̀́ͮ͊ͤ͐͗c̭͂ͬ̏ͭ̉ͫͩ̑͐o͚͍̮̖̮͆̑̓ͪͯ̍̄u͎͈̝͈̾̾̎n̯̯̼͍̼̦̬̟̥͎̿ͭͨ̏ͯ͑̈́ͅt̫̺̬͍̩̥̥̱̞̖̰̊̓̀ͨ͋ͨ̑̓̌ͮͩͨĕ̱̻͇ͥͮ̊̑̒ͯ̒ͤ͆ͪ̋r̪̥͇̭̩͉̪̞̺͛m̭̬̺͉̣̜̖͔̗̹͊̔͛̊̇ͩͤ̎̔e̩͉̥̊͂̔̒ͧ͋̄̅̊ͬa͙͈̞ͨͫ̈́ś̞̗͇͇̟̋ͧ͛u̱̦ͬ̈́ͭ͑̓̾ͯ͗ͦ̎̓̍ŕ̗̣͇̮̻̩̭̻̬̥̗͌̉ͩ̃̾͛͗͂ͭ̐ͅe̦͇͚͂̊̓̿͑s̗̬̲̄ͯ̒̌̽̔̉̓

~~~~~

Taylor felt... numb.

The heavy, cloying blanket that was the sleeping drugs dissipated swiftly. It took her a few moments to realise that she had eyes to open, she had rather expected to simply see, to simply feel and move.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

A multicoloured, indistinct blob was blinked away, gaining definition steadily as she did so. It was her father, sitting beside the bed and holding her hand. Her flesh and blood hand, not her new mechanical one. Why had she expected to see something different? What had she been dreaming about… it probably did not matter, not right now.

"... Dad?"

"Hey honey..." he wasn't looking up at her. She wiggled her fingers. Heh, fingers were strage and funny things...

Just as promised, she could feel the bedsheet underneath them, feel the slightly coarse material and texture. Prosthetist had said that it would feel just a little off and weird, that it would take time to get used to the new sensations.

Her shoulder ached.

Well, that was to be expected, right? She had literally just had the limb cut off, she would almost be worried if it did not hurt on some level, right? Phantom pain and all that.

"How are you?" It was something of an effort to say, it was heavy and difficult to move even her lips but she forced it out and watched, half-lidded as he finally looked her way. He looked like a wreck. Had he even slept whilst she had been under? Silly, silly dad... he knew the process would be long and he didn't even try to rest? Her mother once said... that during the labour he was there for her every moment possible. That was sweet.

It brought a somewhat goofy smile to her lips.

Squirming like a seal on a rock Taylor forced herself to sit up, trying to take in the room she was in. It looked a lot like Emma's room, the one she had recovered in, that was. The clock read 4:41... huh, was that how long she had been out? The operation began at nine, and was supposed to last an hour, were the drugs supposed to take that long to wear off? But she felt so clear headed compared to what she had seen from Emma...

She reached up to rub at her eyes, closing them whilst paying little heed to the way the material of her new arm draggled less smoothly than skin. It felt a lot like--

"... Taylor, it came back."

"What?"

The haze was fading away rapidly, faster than it had for Emma. She opened her eyes and blinked until her arm came into view.

It was crystal, still. Her hand, her forearm, her upper arm... all the way up to the shoulder. With how the crystal twinkled against the dark backdrop of the arm itself, it almost looked like stars amongst the night sky. Her heart stopped a moment, frantically she reached up with her flesh and blood arm to feel around the joint, feeling the hard, solid crystal.

It had progressed by half a foot or so from where it was when she was put under the drugs, and now that it was to the shoulder there would be no way to remove it--

"They took it off... it grew back," he said, voice so low and grim. "They tried to take it from further up, but halfway through the process something happened, I couldn't find out what I just heard screaming." Now that she listened in the dead silence that followed his statement, she could faintly hear voices in the background, shouting, why was it every time she woke up in a PRT building now it was too shouting?

And... and was that Emma's voice? Or was it a delusion brought about from the situation, that desperate urge to reach out for somebody, for some small comfort alongside her father?

"But..." she tore her eyes away from it even as she frantically poked and felt and tugged at the crystal around her shoulder.

Solid.

"But..."

There had to be something, right! They had to have some sort of idea, they had given her hope in all of this, she had finally had a way out!

"I..."

They couldn't even simply cut it off and leave her with a stump, her regeneration factor meant it would grow back. What was this? What was this all? No matter what, no matter what the crystal would come for her. It did not matter. They could take her arms, they could take her legs and leave her a useless lump of flesh that could barely persist and live, the truth was there all along; there was no escape from this all, this was her life, this was all it was.

All the hope she had been given, all the promises were empty and worthless.

She inhaled and screamed with all her might. Every little frustration, every little bit of anger came to the forefront as she broke down, as her father hurried to wrap her up in a hug as he rocked her slightly from side to side.

Insignificant.

There was no escape.

3.4

Taylor sat with her hands in her lap patiently, staring at the director of the Brockton Bay PRT.

The director stared back.

She had such a boring office, Taylor thought idly. Bland, featureless. Few personal details, nothing to show that the Director had any real attachment to it. If Emily Piggot died tomorrow another Director could move in within an hour without having to remove anything. Taylor had been here before... it was just a week and a half ago, right? She couldn't remember, so much had happened in that time, she had been to Boston and back, been through the rigmarole of medical inspection and surgery, been through that bright moment of hope.

It had been a day since the surgery.

She barely remembered anything that had happened after the event, it was all a haze, a mess.

A section of the PRT building was still locked off as experts from Quarantine Zone-9 investigated, experts in the field of Oort Spiderology or whatever the correct term would be.

Disaster management?

"Ordinant, how are you feeling?"

Taylor found herself blinking, observing her own action with a sort of languid half awareness, as if she was somebody else looking out the eyes of some sort of Taylor Hebert.

"Fine."

She was not. But what else was she supposed to say? 'No, I am not fine. My arm and legs are fucked. I hate this. I hate this. I hate you. Leave me alone, don't talk to me--'

Piggot's lips pressed together. She knew that Taylor was lying.

"The Department is currently performing a review of the method used, to see if there is some alternate way to give you a new arm and legs," the Director said in a simple, straight forward way, as if they were discussing an alternate placing of a chess piece, or an alternative sandwich recipe.

It was too late. Taylor knew it for certain. She didn't even attempt a hopeful smile, that would take some small modicum of effort. The crystal was in her shoulder now, what were they going to do? Take a giant chunk out of her upper body? At this rate she would end up as a human bonsai tree, constantly being pruned of its branches to keep it small.

"There's nothing that can be done. It wants me, Director," the woman shifted in her seat as she said that, there was an expression that looked wrong on her face, but Taylor could not tell what emotion it was. She was tired, she did not have the energy to work out every micro-expression of the human being in front of her, she just wanted to sleep in a cocoon of blankets.

It wanted her.

It was eating her alive.

They had taken the arm, and after the bone had been sawed and the offending limb placed aside, a new one had rapidly begun growing to replace it whilst the old one fully crystallised. They had not even been able to take the second off, they had cut into the flesh higher up and the crystal had reacted by rapidly climbing her arm, one of the surgeons had been too slow and been infected as well. Apparently Armsmaster had been first on the scene, and upon the surgeon's insistence had cut off his hand.

Now there was a crystallised hand just sitting in the middle of an operating theatre somewhere in the building.

That was what all the screaming her father had heard was. What a tragic irony, a surgeon losing a hand to the very condition she was attempting to heal?

"None of that young lady. The moment you surrender to a condition is the moment it has won, fighting back is what keeps you strong," Piggot replied, sharply.

Taylor didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say.

After a moment, the Director gave a long, slow exhale.

"I am also afraid that I must ask you to continue breaking Grey Boy loops."

Continue? So, they would be sending her out to other cities to break more... and be put at more risk. Strangely, the notion did not bring any horror or concern. Well, they might as well get their use out of her whilst she was still alive, and she was not so consumed by the weighty exhaustion of her depression that she could not recognise that. Might as well do as much good for the world as humanly possible.

"Emma needs to come with me."

"Ordinant, the PRT cannot just have a random civilian teenager accompany you into Gray Boy victim zones, there are all sorts of ethical and legal problems with that."

"If you want me to break more loops, I need Emma to come with me," she reiterated in the same tone as before.

"I am afraid that that is likely impossible."

"...I'm dying director." It felt strange to say that. She had been dying this entire time of course, but after that moment of hope with Prosthetist, after all the expectations and everything admitting it was a second brick to the face. It was an acceptance of her mortality, it was impossible to ignore now, no longer a distant, unpleasant, and unsightly thing contained to her legs that came closer and closer by increments. "Use me or literally lose me, but if you want me to break loops... I need Emma."

"... You are being unreasonable, Ordinant."

"... And? What are you going to do, Director?" she said blandly. Genuinely, what would the PRT do if she refused to break more loops? Would they have a Master use their powers on her to force her to do so? That would be far more morally wrong than bringing Emma with her, they could physically force her against the loops... maybe they would sue her for breach of contract, but then if it went to court and the reason why was revealed... "I'm not going to ask for money. Or something unreasonable. I just need my friend there."

With a detached, empty serenity Taylor stared at the Director who was looking so very sternly at her, like an obstinate boulder in the course of a raging stream.

"You won't be doing anything until you've had some therapy, because you clearly are not in good mental health. After that we will meet about this again."

Taylor found herself nodding.

Easier to just agree than to resist.

~~~~~

"--your brute rating has been upgraded to four, but only for your crystals," Miss Militia said gently. "And you've been assigned a Trump rating of eight, although it only applies to Shaker powers. There was some talk about it, and a provisional striker rating of two has been assigned as well."

As if Taylor cared about the numbers that she was being assigned. She could be a Trump that nullified the concept of powers from the surface of planet Earth and it would not change her state of being.

"Fortunately, it is nothing that will cause us to have to revise any procedures, but you will need to be careful if you are working around Vista in future, you are basically a complete counter to her power," she went on, briefly glancing over the paper again. "You said that your 'bursts' can be directed, but even then, it might be for the best to have you both patrol together with some backup until you can get more used to how your powers interact, or not patrol together at all."

Oh. She rather liked Vista. The only patrol she had ever been on had been made much more pleasant due to the company of the other Ward, because Shadow Stalker sure as hell was not providing stimulating conversation.

"Thank you, Miss Militia," she said, blandly. "When will I be on duty again?"

"Probably not for a little while to be honest Ordinant, the people up top are pretty spooked about what happened and there's a lot of investigations that need to be done."

"But I want to work and be distracted from it all," she said, stubbornly. Please, just say that she would be able to do something, she didn't need much, even if it was just console or filling out forms. Give her some way that she could be useful and contribute. After that heady feeling of success in Boston, of helping to improve lives, she needed something to keep her chin up.

"Ordinant, it's okay, you need to have your therapy first, and when you are in a better place, we can look to increasing your duties--"

"I don't want to!" she was surprised by her own outburst; at the way she brought her crystal fist against the table with a sound like a metal weight hitting a floor. "I don't... I don't want to spend weeks in therapy when I could be helping!"

Miss Militia put the papers she had been reading over to the side.

"Ordinant... you'll burn out very quickly if you work yourself like that," she warned, keeping her voice low and soft despite her outburst. This couldn't be the woman's first rodeo of dealing with emotional Wards, Taylor did not know what motivated some of the others to join but she couldn't imagine, based on what the pamphlets said when she first joined, that all of them had had bad times getting their powers.

"... But will I burn out before I'm paralysed?" she asked, not blinking as she stared at her superior, their eyes meeting as silence dominated the room for a few seconds.

Taylor won the starring contest.

There was no reply. They had not given her a time or expected date, be it months or years, but based on her own experience she might only have a year or two. She was due for a scan to see how far the crystal had penetrated but she wanted... she NEEDED to do as much good as she could in that time! It would distract her; it would let her leave something good behind!

Her mind was frazzled, veering between wanting to cry and to throw a chair at the nearest breakable object.

Oh... She was a mess, wasn't she?

She couldn't keep control of her emotions at all.

~~~~~

She was back at Winslow.

Why was she even here? It was like a strange, surreal world to be back at school, surrounded by people again, people completely unaware of what she had been through in the last few days. Feeling as if she was less walking, more piloting a Taylor-shaped camera, she got her books out of the locker. It had been over a week and a half since she had been to classes, that PRT provided 'work and medical note' certainly had been stretched to the limit.

She would have so much to catch up on.

A lot of homework as well. Well, that would be a nice distraction.

"C'mon Tay, we've got physics first," Emma's hand was warm in hers, holding it firmly but without crushing it. Not that Emma could break the crystal.

Taylor allowed herself to be led to class, the halls were busy but Emma was walking fast so it just looked like one friend tugging the other along. A few of the local troublemakers would probably sneer, but hey, that's life, right? Life in Brockton Bay that is.

They sat down and set up their things, Emma's desk closer than usual, which was saying something.

"Taylor, why are you wearing a glove in class?" came the inevitable question, one that she had been dreading this entire time.

"I need to wear it for medical reasons, sir," she intoned, dully.

"Do you have a note?"

"It's with the office, sir."

What was it with teachers? Did he really think that she had chosen to wear a glove as a fashion statement, when it would just get in the way of her writing? Was this normal? It was such petty bureaucracy and small mindedness, completely unnecessary. He should just nod, and get on with the lesson, that would be the most efficient course of action. Why waste time with pointless things like this?

Oh, he was. Good.

Unfortunately, others were less keen to drop the subject.

"Hey Taylor... what's wrong with your hand?"

It was Madison, who Emma was acquaintances with. Taylor had never really interacted with her much, although when Emma dragged her to a party at the girls house a few weeks ago they had chatted about inane topics to fill the void. She could not even remember the gist of it all, the main thrust of the conversation.

"I don't really want to talk about it..." she excused, self-consciously putting the offending hand into her lap, as if at any moment the glove may fall off and reveal the crystal hand for the horror of all the world to see. Out of sight, out of mind... Apart from the constant ache in her shoulder and legs that was there to remind her.

"Is it a skin thing? I know a few good creams that can help with stuff like eczema," she offered. She was trying to be nice, and Taylor could appreciate that even if she did not really want to talk about it right now.

"Madison, drop it." Emma interjected sharply, and the other girl's jaw clacked shut. She almost looked a little confused by it, as if she moved back on instinct at the force of the redhead's insistence. It was somewhat blunt and forceful, very different from the Emma she had gotten used to... well, she had not taken the news about her unsuccessful operation very well at all, and had been practically glued to her hip when she could in the last few days.

But at least Emma was safe, she could walk as well as before and had her hand back.

"Ah, sorry, I shouldn't really ask, I just wondered if I might know something that could help... y'know?" Madison fumbled, looking at Taylor.

"... It's alright, sorry. I just kind of don't want to advertise it much, but it's kind of hard when I need the glove," Taylor tried to apologise, whilst Emma turned back to her books without further comment.

With that, silence reigned, bar the conversation of others in the room, the late arrivals setting up their things, laughing and joking in the background. Everything about the world felt so off to her, as if she was walking through some horrible waking dream in which everyone was normal and happy, and she was the only odd one out. It was all in her head, she knew it, but she just wanted to run away from it all, find somewhere and break down again, as she had half a dozen times in the last few days--

Under the table, a hand found hers. Emma did not look her way or give any indication that she was even thinking about her, but she gave her hand a squeeze of support at the moment she needed it most.

She could do this. She had to try and keep moving forward no matter what.

3.5

Curled up in her crummy old chair in her room, Taylor scanned the screen of the computer. There was a piece of news on PHO. she had known to expect it, was warned ahead of time that the news would be coming out but she could not help her curiosity about it all.

She needed a distraction from things, after all.

Topic: Gray Boy loops broken?

... Perhaps it was a little much of her.

But... people were talking about her. They had no idea that it was her of course.

The name of the Cape that broke the loops had been 'redacted over concerns for privacy,' which was no doubt because Taylor was a Ward.

The names of the victims as well.

Taylor privately knew that they were being given new identities, an opportunity to start their life afresh. The names of a lot of Gray Boy victims were known, even if locally. Hard not to be a topic of a community when the girl your mother went to school with is now trapped in a permanent, torturous time loop.

In definitely unrelated news, New York would have a new Cape or two soon.

Completely unrelated, no doubt.

But all that was irrelevant to what was capturing her attention.

People were talking about her, even if she was just some hero who went unmentioned, people were speculating on her actions and success, the forum was on fire with responses so that every time she nervously hit refresh, there was something new. A small pulse of anxiety made itself known each time she hit that button, as if expecting one of them to, by some miracle, connect the dots, to reveal her to the world.

But no such thing had happened.

A dozen Capes had been suggested so far, some of them she had heard of, others she had not. Some thought that it might be some sort of new Tinkertech, developed by some genius Tinker like Armsmaster or Dragon, that had somehow broken the time loops. Well, of course it would be some big-name Cape who did it, not some newbie.

But no.

It was her who did it.

If she wanted to, she could type just a few words and claim responsibility. She technically had an official PRT PHO account as Ordinant, although she had never posted anything and probably would not be doing so anytime soon.

She felt like a hero right now. It felt a little wrong, it made her feel a little guilty, this heady rush.

It was the first time she had felt good in days, since Boston, when the heady success of helping had raised her spirits and given her hope for the future. Was it wrong for her to feel like this, to feel proud of herself for doing something that any good person should do?

She hoped not, she had done a good thing, she was contributing towards improving the world one loop at a time.

Leaning back in her chair, Taylor hooked a finger under the hem of the glove and pulled it off.

The crystal glinted. She hated how pretty it was, and how it also made a shiver run down her spine.

For a little while she stared at it, deep in thought. Thoughts wondering about everything that had happened to her, flashes of memory from that night, the explosion of the world around her, the creeping crystal overtaking them and crawling up their legs.

She put the glove back on.

Even if that hand saved those people, she still could not bear to look at it...

She continued reading the forum idly.

Alongside the comments giving thanks to the person, they never thought they would read these posts... a lot of very emotional posts on the forums, things that made her struggle to read.

Relatives of other Gray Boy victims celebrating the news but also so very clearly keen to see their own relatives freed from the loops, tentative questions about whether the Cape who freed the Boston victims would perhaps be travelling around helping others...

WhereRaindropsGo : God bless this person, I don't know who they are and thye'll never see this but the good lord gave them a gift that can help all those poor poor people, I hope that they are safe and sound and can help everyone else--

Her eyes moved on.

BodhisattvaOfPeanuts : So yeah... what's the chance that some people are gonna be taking a reeeeaaal interest in LoopBreaker?

... She really did not want to think about that. She supposed that on an objective level most would take her deeds as a good thing, most in the forum did, but there were some real nutcases out there... she wanted to think that the PRT would be able to keep her safe but...

They had not kept her safe from that monster...

She hunched a little as a vision of its melting form came to mind.

Taylor shook her head, she could not dwell upon it without feeling a combination of horror, fear, guilt... so many emotions. It had settled down, even if she struggled to think about what she had done, everything had been so swept up in the events following.

Another post, she read it, it was a response to a somewhat... crass comment earlier.

NoisyDragon (replying to CrackHeadJoe) : Listen buddy I am just saying, some folks have been told that a solution to helping loved ones is just a miracle away, I don't know who this cape is but if I have to get on my fucking knees and give them literally everything I have to save my daughter than i'd do it right now. Fuck you you asswipe.

That made her sit back in her seat, looking up at the constellation currently gently floating above her computer as her star projector hummed away in the background.

How many people were in NoisyDragon's situation? Some of the people she saved in Boston, she had gotten to hear their stories. The man going to work, the woman whose child was not only a few years younger than her... and each of them had families. She had not thought about it at the time, how the news would affect them.

She imagined a middle-aged man looking just a little too much like her father, sitting at the edge of their seat as he furiously typed, feeling that desperate hope that he had not allowed themself to feel in years, perhaps over a decade, that his little girl would be freed.

Grandparents, mothers, fathers, siblings... all now hearing that loops had been broken and desperately wondering one thing; "will my loved one be freed?"

... Taylor really should stop putting words into other people's heads like that, and stop picturing such people and their strife. It was like her head wanted her to imagine such situations, she pictured others as well, and reached up to rub at her eyes.

Damn intrusive thoughts...

But she could really empathise with those feelings she ascribed those people in her imagination, and no doubt in the real world as well.

A bright moment of hope, after so long being told 'a solution is just around the corner' for the longest time... only to never get results. That hope slowly dulling, becoming doubt and then doubt turning into bitterness or the abyss of despair as one finally accepted that there really was no hope in the world.

... How could she not help those people?

Taylor sighed, and moved to another forum.

All at once, her desire to read the speculation of others was gone.

A message from somebody. She clicked on the notification to see who it was from, feeling her heart sink just a little.

CreateRandom : Saw you were up... can we talk?

She knew this song and dance, and Taylor stared at the message, reading those simple seven words multiple times.

It was late, but existential crisis and fear did not care about the time of day. Hell... look at her, she should have gone to sleep two hours ago.

But Taylor did not really need much sleep... and last time, when she had not wanted to trouble Emma, she had vented to him. Even if it was weeks before she discovered that she had powers it was hard not to feel some small debt. Usually, it had been James or Aimee who were the main shoulders to cry on in the group... but James was not on the verge of full crystallisation, maybe Aimee was asleep or he did not want to trouble her?

LittleOwl : Of course Joe, feel free to vent.

It was a heavy conversation... They all were, and by the end she felt just as down as she did before, tempered only by that strange joy at having helped another, even if now she felt more emotionally exhausted than before.

But notions of exhaustion were meaningless to her, she wanted to make use of every moment, and what did she care if she burned out?

Such things were irrelevant.

~~~~~

Sitting on top of the roof of the PRT building at night.

Taylor was not supposed to be here, she was supposed to be asleep, deep near the bottom of the building where the Wards quarters were. She had had her first patrol since getting back, with no less than Missy, Carlos, and Dean... quite a large squad for one patrol through a safe neighbourhood.

With the recent surge in street level fights between the ABB and Empire, everyone was highly strung and the PRT was keeping even the Wards on high alert... and it was expected to get worse before it got better...

Taylor was not usually one for rule breaking, but if she did not seize this opportunity then she might well regret it for the rest of her life. Even a disappointing experience was one that had been experienced rather than missed, what was that Shakespeare quote about loving and losing being better than never being in love?

Something like that.

But how many people could say that they had been up here, on the roof of the Brockton Bay PRT building? The Rig might be a more interesting location to do this at, further away from the city and all its light... which somewhat ruined her stargazing, but beggars could not be choosers.

It was hard to see the stars in Brockton Bay, after all.

...

She had had a therapy session earlier in the day.

Taylor was not sure what to think about this fact, and as a result after it she had distracted herself with homework and preparing for the patrol, even having an arm-wrestling contest with Carlos to kill some time. She lost the latter, and noticed how warily he looked at her crystal arm.

But now, with a moment just to herself and the canvas of the heavens above her, her mind wandered to the events of the day.

The therapy was not really what she had imagined it to be.

She had expected it to be like her previous experience, the time she was forced to attend after offhandedly mentioning finding touching her crystallised legs soothing. It had been offhand, idle, but they made a big thing about it because apparently all other cases developed an instinctual terror and fear of the crystal, so to enjoy it--

Well, she still sometimes thought about the therapist and the way his lips had been set in a grim, dissatisfied line for almost the entire of the meeting, how his questions had seemed more like demands for information during an interrogation. By the end she had been on the verge of tears... she actually did break down and cry into her pillow later that night, like some sort of pathetic child, only Emma arriving with a fresh pie from Auntie Zoe half an hour into her tears managed to cheer her up.

But Yamada was... nice.

Very different, even if most of the hour-long session had been her gently coaxing answers out of Taylor, she had not quite realised just how... resistant she was to talk about everything that had happened in Boston and Brockton Bay afterwards until the woman asked her to do so.

After telling the story so many times, she had grown sick and tired of it. But then Yamada had interrupted to clarify that she did not want to know the sequence of events, but how she felt about it all.

It had left Taylor stunned for a good few seconds, unable to even formulate an answer.

It should have been easy to answer, really: she felt angry, scared, depressed, guilty, hopeful, reticent, despairing, and unable to control herself, desperate both to push everyone away and reach out and grab onto them desperately.

She was not proud to admit that she had floundered like a fish on land for a good portion of the session.

Still... it did not leave her feeling as bad as her previous experience with therapy--

"Hey, Ordinant."

Taylor practically jumped out of her skin as a voice spoke up from behind her, she glanced over her shoulder.

It was Missy, still with her visor on but now in civilian clothes, much like Taylor.

"... Hey."

The other Ward looked around, at the wide-open space that was the roof and its selection of antennae dotted about the edge.

"... Are we allowed up here?"

"Probably not?" Taylor said, shrugging and throwing caution to the wind.

"Aren't they worried... you know?" she gestured towards the edge of the roof, as if the answer was somehow there, and Taylor frowned for a moment before realisation dawned upon her.

"What, commit suicide?" Taylor asked, taken aback. She had heard that colleges and universities now put nets and locked the doors to roofs during exam time... which to Taylor rather seemed as if it was missing the entire point, but still.

Missy looked terribly awkward in that moment, Taylor could see the way she gave a half shrug, as if she had been trying to avoid the word.

Did they all worry that she would end her own life?

"I wouldn't," she said bluntly, "my time is limited enough without throwing myself off," she said bluntly. No dancing around it. "Kind of pointless as well, I mean… I can... understand why some people do though," she admitted, pausing a moment before she did so. She had thought about it before, in her darkest moments.

Both in the past, and recently.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Stargazing, I did not feel like sleeping."

"... Yeah, I get that..." for a few seconds she hung back, and Taylor made no attempt to move. She was too tired to be bothered getting up, to sheepishly rub at her elbow at being caught like a naughty child with hand in the cookie jar. If Missy told her to go back, then she would, but for now she would just...

Exist.

After a few seconds, the other Ward took a seat on the concrete beside her, hugging her knees to her chest as well to stave off the chill. For a few seconds, Missy looked up, Taylor could not tell if she was squinting.

For a minute or two they sat there, the tension and awkwardness building. Taylor could just feel it, the prickling on the back of her neck, that feeling of restlessness.

"I can't really see much..." Missy said, suddenly. Despite it, Taylor felt relieved.

"Look longer."

"Huh?"

"The longer you look, the more you see. Let your eyes adjust and don't try to look around to fast just slowly look from one thing to the next," Taylor instructed

...

A few minutes later, Missy was indeed seeing more of the stars.

"Huh... there's far more than I expected to see here."

"This is your heritage Missy, it just gets hidden away by light pollution and all that stuff."

"Don't you mean ours?"

"Huh?" she said, intelligently.

"You said it's my heritage, I mean, you're here as well."

"... Yeah." Strange, why did it feel so strange to think of it that way? The stars above their heads had overseen all human history, be it Vista's ancestors or hers all had slept under the same stars.

... Insignificant.

Whether they were the stars purely for her or for all mankind, it did not matter.

"Do you know any of them? I've seen your room, it's... I am not sure that you are allowed that many sticky backs but eh... I just kind of presumed that you know a lot about the stars," Vista shrugged, perhaps trying not to be awkward about it.

Despite herself, Taylor managed a short chuckle, and Missy shifted on the spot, looking back from the heavens to focus on her. Taylor shuffled closer until their shoulders were touching, and then she raised her hand to point upwards.

"The right one there, that's Polaris, the north star, the entire sky moves around it... have you ever seen those sped up videos of the stars moving? Well, that one remains in the same place, so it is really important in navigation for boats and stuff," she began to explain.

"Huh... I'd heard of it but never really thought much about it..."

"And you see Orion over there?" Taylor went on, pointing to the famous constellation. "Those three stars under his belt are his sword, and when they are in a straight line downwards, they point due south, so you have north and south visible to you right now! And you see the big star in the middle of the sword? That is an entire nebula, it's super pretty but not my favourite nebula."

"You really know your stuff..." her companion said, and Taylor found herself smiling, something she had not been doing much of recently.

"I like the stars."

It came out a little stilted, but it was nice to share her knowledge about the stars. Emma was not keen on the topic, and after her astrophobia developed fully Taylor had made a point to make no mention of her own interest to avoid causing distress to her. But now she had... well she doubted that Vista counted as a captive audience, but somebody who was interested in the topic and she was going to jump on the opportunity.

In the end, time ceased to have meaning as Taylor pointed out stars, told stories of their origins and little random facts.

It felt... nice.

Normal, mundane in a world that craved both but so often was troubled by the opposite.

3.6

It was good to be back in Brockton Bay.

In the background, a movie was playing on the small TV that Emma had in her room.

Taylor sat with her legs to the side, shoulder brushing occasionally against Emma's. Some old movie was playing, background noise. Taylor had seen it before, it was one of Emma's favourites, so much so that the redhead knew it by heart. It had a princess and rats of unusual size.

Beside her, her friend was tapping away on her phone. A message had come from Madisson and she was quickly replying to it.

It had been a busy two days for the two of them, a highly organised one in which they had visited Albany.

In the end, the PRT had yielded somewhat on the matter of Taylor bringing company with her for moral support. Her father and Emma came, but had to remain behind in the accommodation provided whilst Taylor worked. In effect, both got a short weekend trip to the state capital, and whilst Taylor had worried about whether Emma would want to come the redhead had agreed at once, not even consulting her parents.

This time, the entire thing was much better organised.

Coleson, who had been healed up by Panacea, had overseen it all and was utterly ruthless when it came to organising the security detail. Taylor almost felt sorry, the Albany PRT was much smaller than Boston or Brockton Bay and they had been at once swamped by the arrival of Taylor and her Praetorian Guard of heavily armed troopers and complement of Capes.

Before Boston, Taylor would have called it excessive.

Now, she was thankful to have each of them who had volunteered or been assigned to the detail.

Over the course of the weekend, she had freed twelve people from loops, three of whom had triggered without incident bar one, who had a meltdown and had to be talked down. Three of the victims would probably never make a full recovery, and Taylor rather suspected would remain in a vegetative state for the rest of their lives.

The troopers had, during the trigger events, at once moved in front of her to act as barriers between her and the new Capes. It would be undignified to say that Taylor had cowered behind them... but she had most certainly put as much of them between her and the loop victims as she could... but this time there had been no incidents at all.

Most importantly, twelve people were free from hell.

And now she was back in Brockton Bay, relaxing with Emma late into the Sunday night before school tomorrow.

With a lull in the action of the movie and her friend distracted, Taylor's mind wandered.

She began thinking over the four Capes who had triggered in her presence during the last few days. It had been a strange set of powers, and ones that no doubt the Albany PRT would be keen to make use of if the four of them would join the department (and, with the incentives, Taylor rather suspected some of them would).

One had a rather notable Brute power that allowed him to reverse his wounds, like some localised form of time reversal that purely affected his own injuries. It had likely saved his life, whilst in the loop she had been continuously cut by knives and stabbed with other such implements.

It was interesting in a way, almost as if it was designed to counter his injuries.

The second had gained a Brute/Mover power, Taylor was not exactly sure how it worked she just heard a loud bang and then the woman hit the ceiling, fortunately when she did there was a smaller explosion to counteract the momentum. Taylor was rather sure that by any logic, the woman should have been killed but... well powers did not always make sense, and really, a Mover who moved by blowing themselves up and gave themselves some sort of immunity to being blown up was... novel?

The third power she had no ability to comprehend.

The fourth made the child who triggered able to shrink down to the height of a mouse... Taylor rather wondered if it was born from the young boy's desire to hide away from the trauma of the loop.

But if, in theory, she was to meet the three of them and they were to attack her, what would she do?

It was good to think, consider and categorise them. The more t-she could understand powers, the better she would protect herself in future. It was a good thought exercise. She only had limited time and no desire to shorten that time whatsoever.

What sort of countermeasures w̦̯̆ͧo̯̤̓̍uld a villain [T͔͉͚͙͕̲̠̿̅ͬ̏͗ͥͣ̈h͚̺̝̅̑̉͊̏̂ṟ̝̝ͥ̆̎ͨ̈́͆ͣe̹̯̜̰͚̮͈͉̐̈̐̒̋̎̐̄a̭̻͒ͭ͒ṭ̦̘̙̰̌͆̐] have to d̴̓ͅeplo̷̼̟͠y d̜̙͊epl͍̯̐ͮô̪̈y to s̶t̶o̸p̷ that sort of c̲͗̿̚irc̼̠̺ͤủ̹͂msta͇͍̐n̤̄c̬͈͛͐e̹̬̳͆ͭ̉--

"--or!"

A hand on her shoulder was shaking her.

Taylor blinked. It was Emma, sitting closer than before, their faces only inches away.

"Oh, sorry, I got lost in thought," she apologised. At once she felt a little out of sorts, like a dreamer who had been pulled out of some happy abyss back into reality.

Emma stared for a moment.

"... I don't like it when you get that look in your eyes, Taylor."

Look? She just zoned out as she thought about powers, but Emma was speaking as if she had been pulling some unnerving or terrifying expression.

So, she just blinked in confusion.

Emma released her shoulder, leaning back, then looked around her room.

She got up and began busying around, turning over boxes and clearly looking for something. Taylor frowned.

What was her friend up to? Normally by this stage in the movie she would be fully invested, it was the final showdown in which the redhead would be on the edge of her seat, hand near her mouth where she would be anxiously chewing on a nail, despite knowing exactly how the story would end.

Locating a particular box, Emma opened it up and took out three pieces of metal, rapidly putting them together and turning back to her. The entire time Taylor could only watch, mystified and wondering just what her friend was doing.

"Taylor! Please, can you play for me?"

"..." Taylor frowned, looking at the redhead.

"When did you get a flute, Em's?"

An awkward laugh was her response.

"I just thought it would be nice, I mean, you play so I thought I would learn as well, seeing how I now have a hand again... y'know?" Emma raised her prosthetic and wiggled the fingers.

Taylor blinked, then looked down at the flute.

Her friend was not wrong, Taylor still played the flute, it was a way for her to feel close to her mother. But at the same time, the flute in Emma's hand was gleaming, it was so clean and new as if it had never been used before. But her friend looked worried, perhaps playing would ease up on some stress?

What was stressing Emma?

Was there something coming up that Taylor did not know about? Was Emma hiding things from her, knowing that she now had her own things going on?

Taylor felt guilty. She had been so drawn into her own misery that she had let her thoughts get utterly distracted from the here and now.

She brought the new flute up to her lips.

It was good quality.

How expensive was it? Were it not for the fact that she knew her mothers' flute so well, she would say that this one was better. Higher quality, perhaps. Borderline professional. Trust Emma to beg her father to spend a lot of money on an expensive instrument on a whim!

But it was heartwarming... her friend wanted to learn so that they could play together, what a thoroughly simple, friendly thing to do...

She struggled not to smile at the thought, if she did so then it would ruin her playing.

Emma was a good audience as well, she listened and even swayed to the music, like a cobra that swayed and took up the full attention of the audience.

Taylor's full attention.

Looking closer, Emma was visibly tired, there were bags under her eyes. The ends of her hair looked a little frayed, had she been chewing on it again?

She may have no idea what was worrying her friend, but the least she could do was help her relax. They had only had a little time together in Albany, Taylor had worked in the day and returned in the early evening so that they could eat a meal as a trio, her father keen to make sure she was okay whilst Emma distracted her with chatter about the things she had seen and done in the day, which largely seemed to consist of shopping.

Was it unfair of Taylor to drag her friend across a state just to give her some support, only to then barely be able to spend any time with her? Probably, but her friend had still been there without reservation for her.

Taylor finished on the flute with a trill and gave a little curtsey when Emma clapped.

She had planned to give her dad a call to pick her up when the movie was over... but she would find a reason to stay over and make sure that her friend slept well tonight, distracted, and really spend some time together.

In the early morning, the first, distant explosion went off.

~~~~~

Bombs.

The new leader of the ABB used bombs.

It was a horrific piece of news, and one that put the city at large at risk.

Taylor had the brief after the other Ward's, who had been given the grim run down over the weekend as the terror bombing began.

The city was filled with fear now, civilians were looking over their shoulders, questions were being levelled at the PRT and the police, and Taylor had to wonder just what the average person thought that they could do. Questions about 'well why can't a sniper just put a bullet through their head?' or 'why hasn't Legend been brought in?' were dominating PHO without really understanding just how hard it was to actually find a sufficiently determined individual in a city of hundreds of thousands.

But there was another issue.

Not all the bombs were bombs.

Some of them had other effects that were not conventional explosions, and plenty of them were horrific and gruesome, effects that influenced the surroundings and even organic matter. It seemed that the mad Tinker had been busy, and that as time went on their creativity was only being matched with their penchant for destruction and disregard for human life.

The result?

Ordinant was needed to help counteract some of the Shaker effects going on around the city left over from the bombs, and the campaign was only ramping up as well.

"...You alright Ordinant?" Armsmaster asked, beside her. His delivery was gruff, he did not sound as if he had been sleeping much with the recent trouble.

"Yeah..."

No, she was worried. Even if the area had been declared as safe and isolated, she could not help but look from the corner of her eyes as the elder Cape scanned their surroundings often. It was just the two of them and a few troopers who were standing around the exterior of the latest Shaker-bomb affected site. This was a wide-ranging hologram that made the place look normal... but covering up the fact that there was a giant hole in the road.

So, a person could easily drive or walk right into a giant hole in the ground. Nowhere near as bad as some of the other effects, but if the department had an anti-shaker, they might as well make use of her, right?

"If you would, Ordinant."

She used her power, barely focusing on the space.

The hologram at once flickered out of existence, revealing the hole and debris.

This was the fifth such Shaker zone that she had cancelled in the last few days, her power was suddenly useful not just in breaking loops but also in protecting her home city. People were taking photos of her and whichever Cape accompanied her to the sites of the bomb's effects.

There were plenty of unpleasant villains in the world, literal monsters in human form... but what this bomb Tinker was doing was nothing more than domestic terrorism, punching down and injuring innocent people for no good reason, what was it all in favour of? Releasing Lung? Surely this Bakuda person was not so insane as to think that blowing people up was the logical way to do this?

It just seemed too illogical to her.

But humans were not logical.

Beside her, Armsmaster grunted as the effect was cancelled, walking over and briskly tapping the bottom of his halberd against the edge as if to confirm that it was there, and not some second level of illusion.

"How long until we catch her, do you think?" she asked.

It sounded so naive, but she was the least experienced of the Wards, perhaps the PRT had some sort of super secret tracking system and they were just waiting for the right moment to strike. But with how the Hero and Villain situation had been in Brockton Bay for the last few years... Taylor could not help but wonder whether they even would.

The city had always struggled with its gangs, even with the assistance of other elements like New Wave.

"I cannot say, Ordinant. As soon as the opportunity arrives," was the response from the other Cape, and she saw the way his jaw slightly tensed, not quite gritting his teeth but not far off either.

She did not press further.

Everyone was on edge at the moment, and she did not want to poke that bear.

"If you get back in the van, I'll accompany it back to HQ."

At times, Taylor wondered whether such an obvious bastion of the PRT was really the safest place that she could be. But she simply nodded, respecting her superior's judgement. She had been picked up by a nondescript car earlier from school, brought to the PRT building to change and then deployed to deal with this problem.

Still... She would rather have gone on the back of his bike; how many people could say that they had done so? But it was Tinkertech... it probably had some sort of super limited weight distribution or something like that.

Sitting in the back of the van with troopers, she decided that next time she would ask him. Next time.

~~~~~

Ě͕͚͙̱̪̀ǹ̜̪̗̤̺̪̳͐ͥ͌̆ͤg̞̰ͣ̿͆̓̾̾̔a̮̙̖͎̱̥̞̋ͤͫͤ͊̏g̥͙̣̾͊́i̝̥̼̳̦͛ͬ̇ͦ̌ͤ̚ṇ̩̤̫̖͔͈̄ͪ̇ͦg̟̫̪̦̜̼̈́ͭ̊ͮ̉ͣ͐ ̱̭͖ͣ́̍̂̉̚P͚͇͌̅͊ͥ̂͒ă͍̖̞̤̺ͧ̀ͮͣr̘̝͎͙̬̆̐ȧ̙̝̠͔̗̲ͤ̿͗d̬͎͐ͥͦͫͥi̱̣͓̮͍̼̤̔̉̈gͦͣͮͅm̝̪̝̼̱͔̖̃͆͂̉ ͎̱̖̤̃̈͑͛ͦͤI̟͚̞͎ͯͩ͌͑n̩̹͖ͥ̽f͉̟ͨ̿̌ͮ̾ͣl̘̱̠̺͉̟̰ͪ̆͐̾ͥ͊̚a̩̲̯̯̘͒ͩͪ͛̑̑ͅt̫̞ͦi̲͙͕̳͙̮̬ͣ̑ͬ͑o̺͚̰̣ͦͤͦ̒ͨn͇̰̈́ͣ̉ͧ̌̊.̦ͩ͆ͤ̾ͮ͂̚ ̼̘̻̀̄̄ͪÅ͚̋͛ń̰ͧ͐a̜̟ͨ͑ͬl̯͎͔͕̭̮̱͛ͬȳ̭͍̍̓ͮ̃ͧ͑š͙͚̒ͫ͑̇̃i̩̮̳̞̺͖ͩ͗̅s̞̖̻̮͙̗͔͐̓̈:͉͖̰̂̓̑̂ͭ̅ ̩͉̖̉̍ͤ͆̍͂́T̝̼̥̿ͣͪ̍ͧͨ̚ĕ͈͔̪͓̒͊̒ͪ̓m̠̹͙̳̘͍͓ͬͧṗ̬͉̍̋̏̐ọ͕͉̲̦̜̌̓̆̔ͮ̌r̹̐͛ͮ̀͗͆ͨă̻͎l̮͔̘̺̮̦̟͂͒ͤ ̖͍̖̔ͭ̿ͫ̒r̯̱̒e̘̟̭̘͖͉͑̒͐̆v̗͙̞͍̦̬͉̎͗ĕ̩̻̠ͅr̝͔͉̍̂̎̽̑s͍̪̠̝̘̏ͣ̓́i͉̦͉̜͚̎̈ͥͥȏ̯͐͋ͪͬ̋͂n͖̈́̅̃ ̻͊ͧ̿͑ê̼̝̰͈̜̖͉̿̌͒ͭ͒̆f̱̻̜̜̬̾͛ḟ͖̂ͅĕ̞̀̊̔̚c͚̪̎͑ͥ͆̎͗̋t̯̱̱ͦ̉ͩ͒ ͎͔̦͈̘̎͆͂l̥̤̤͇͈̋͗ͯ͑i͓̲͖̟ͧ̆ͧ̀m̬ͧ̿ͮ̌i̖̥̠ͦ̍̋̅̐t͔̭̹͌ͩ̍ͤͬȇ̺͎̌ḓ̫̻̿ ̥ͮt͙͉͎͌̒̀̇̋̚o͈̜͓ͬ̏͆͒͆̇ ̙̦͕̺́̔̓ẉ̅o̗̻̰̭̜͋̏ͥͮ̅u̘͈̬ͧͥ͂̍n̟̖͙͓̠̪̅͆̌͌̄̚ͅd̹͓͆̍̓ͣs̼̽̊̈́͆ͬ̄̈ ̫̥̬̭͓̳ͮ̃ͫi̜̜̔ṇ͆͊̾̉̓̑f̱̩̣͒̔̍l̗̭̙̟̪̾͋̈ͩ̋ī̝̹͔̌c̠̩̮͕͓̐̂ͪ͂͑t̹ͮ̌̅e͖̺̱̗̹͍͕ͦͬd̝̫̦͔͈͐̃̽̄͐ͧ ̗͚̯̎ͩͩ́́̅̊ͅo̖ͪ̎͆ͨn̖̪̪͉̺͚͍͌̿̐̈́̃̿͌ ̳̥̱̆͊̑̓b̗̯̐͋͐̀͊ó̯̺̻̰͙̙̼d̰̤͔̥̞̫ͭ̂ͫ͛̀y͇̗͎̝̮͖̞ͧ̓ͨ.͙̥͇̞̾̍̽͗ ̥̄͒̄

̳͓͇͙͚͓̤̾͊̓̑͆̂E̞͋n̗̄ͯ̚g͉̉̔a͕̼̝̋g̱̩͚̩̱͕̞̊̎ͤi̺͕̱ͮ͒ͭͪ̆n̲̭̳̩̙͖͛͊̑̄ͬg̙̺̠̺̓̈͒̃͛̀ ̝ͩ̃͊̂͑̐P̖͈̞͉͎̼̼̌̍ͫ͛̌̀́a̲͖̪̞͖̦̐r̯̠͊̉ͦͩ͆̃̏a̤͚̠ͬ̈́d̬̭̙̄̌̃i̮̱̿͐g͕̮͔͒ͦ̒͌ͫm̲͔̌̈ ̠̦̫͍͔͍͊̒̒Ǐ̹̺̳̹̥̣n̺̻͛́̉͋̾̓̔f̙͚̲̰̭̦͔͛̀͌̅l̫̀̌ạ̟̝̯̺͍͉̐ͪͨṯ̠͕̼͈̏í̖͚̳͊͋͂o͉̦͂n̮̫̭͒͂.̺͓̎̄̀ ̙̗̰̋̃ͅͅA̬̹ͭ̿n̩̖͚̲̞̤̹̒̃̄̃ͮå̼̟̣̣͍̆͐l̤͐ͪ̿̏̊y̲̰̺͉̪͖̱̔̏̍s͓̼̻͕̹͂̀ͪ̐̾i̹̤͆ͬ͌͗̾ͅs͚̟̝̺͉͐:̺̽̈͊ͮͮ̚ ̘͕͍͙͂ͮ̌ͣḬ͍̯͕̺̍ͧ̈́ͥn͚̲͎̪̤̺̈̉̄ṯ̖̏̏ͣ̾ͩ͂r͍̝͍͕̥̜̫̔ͯͨ̇͊ͬo̦͎̤ͧ͗̒̏͛͑ͅd̠̓ṵ̘ͭ̈̒͒͌̋̋c͉̝̖̫͉͓ͯ͑ț̗̳̯̥̎i̭̺̞ͭ̈́͋͛̈ͤͅo̩̣͕̗̭ͪ͋ͩͤ̈ͅn̻̞͓͉͎̳̥̍ ̰͎̾ͩ̈̾̐ȏ̦̤͔͔̊ͣ͂f̱̻̫̈́̎ ̠̥̲̺͉̗̠̍͊ͥ͆̎̀n̻̿̌ͨ́̓̇o͓ͣ͒͐͂̊v̻͊̌e̼͎̰̮͈̓̅̄̇͊l̰̠̲͓̯͂̎̏ͫ ̻̝͓̹͚ͧm̝̣͔̞̬̎o͓̦̱̮͑ͤ͐v̹̙̗̮ͤ̿ͣ̈́͋ͬͅe̹̞͖ͭ̐̋m̦̫̂e̱͍̜͕̓͂̿̀́̈ͦn̤͉̍͊͂͂̊ť͖̏̚ ̗̫̩͓́̀p̱̩ͬ̇̏̐̊̏̏ė̲̚r̠̤̭͔̖͊̈ͮ̎f̤̟̪̘̫̉̏̈̂ͩͅo̝̥͖̱̥̼͊ͤͯr̠͉̼ͮ̋̆̀m̟͙̖͉ͨ̈́̈́̄͛ͬ̑e̗̜̗̤͆̈ͨ̎̽d̠̤͊̅ ̼̞̙̥̭ͪ̇̐ṱ̝̘̰͇͇̦ͭ͗̊ͫ͐̿͑h̳̜̣̰̻̳̠͐̈ͫṛ͈̭̜̤̼͖ͫ͑̎̏ó̻͉̤̒̍̿ͫ̋u̪̅g̮͖̗̮̹ͤ̆ḥ̻̗̳̯̖͆͌ͤͧ̓̂ ̳̤͎̜ͪ̍̍ͣ͆l̦͙̣͎͉̘͗̏o̭͕̹̮͌ͭ̔c̙̲͍̊͗̋̓ä̮̰̙̼̘͛̓̍̋̔̚ḽ͕̗̘̥̋ỉ̲̝͍͔͓̓̈́̂̔̎s̯̤͔ͯ͋̈ͤȅ̗͚̻̫͚͒ͦ̉ͮ̾͂ͅd̼̭̂̾̇ͧ͋ ̪͇̣̳̙͐ͦ͌͑͂ë͈͚̤̓x͕̜̽͌̎̈̊p̪̪̤̻̣̰̱̉̽͆̒l̬̙̭͚̙̗͂̚o͎̰̅̎ͫ̑š̺̆͆̃ͪͤ̑ḭ̘̗̤̀ͣ́̏̅̆̚o̖̭̭̓̏̅ͪͣͤ̀n̞͈̪̎ͬ̂ͩͣ͂̑s͚̦̩̖̻̖̅͆̽͆.̳̼͓͐ͨ ͈̫͖̰̄ͩͩ̎

L̩̯̠̪͎͚̱ͬͯ͑ͣͯ͋ị͍̃m̳̱̙ͬî̫͈͓̫͙͋̃ͣṯ̜͓̽̎̿͊ͪ͑̚e̠ͫ̌͋ͮd͚͒̉̃ͣͩͤͅ ͚̽d̙͍̝́ͭͤu̹͔̅̄ͧ̒̂r͓̪̲̥̈́ͭ̌̒ͦͮ͒a̮̣̜̼͎͛̑c̝̪͕̔́͑̎̈́͋̚t͓̮̜̰͔̅̅͋ͅi̝͙͗ͦ̊̔͂̇̾o̼͈̜͆ͭ͌n̻͇̖̫̖̭͚ͣ͒ͮͩ͂͒͊ ̬̭̥̯͎̠̞̋̆̑̿̏ͭ͆ȋ̭̞̰̦͕n̜͕͐̒̓ͩ̌ͮv̘̙̥̫̞͆̉͗̈́̊ͅů̺̠̙̯̰̱̊̚ḻ͂͂ͧ͐n̮̣͛̆̆e̟̰̘̖̱̤ͣr͉̦̙̰͉̣ͧa͎͖͉͚ͮ͗̓̋̒̽̚b͇̼̥̃î̩̭̥̯̪̘̇ͥ̏̉̍͗l̙̫̠͐͋̎ͤ̑i͔̻͂̿t̥̠͎̠̻͙̲ͬ̋y̠̥̪̋ͨ̃ͭͯͨ ̘͕̭̥ͪt͖̻͑̀o̬͚͖̯̰̪̿ͥ̊ͭw̮̺͇̺ͫͫͦ̒̉͑ͧa̟̹͛̇̐̆̎ͧ̄r̯̫̉͂d̙̪͈̤ͤͭ̊͊̔̽s͓̩̓ ̺͕̮̯̜̬͔̉ͤ͑ͣ͊͌s͍̠̲̬͇̈ͮ̃ĕ̱̃ͣ̑ͯͬ̏l̹̠̽ͥ͐̌ͤf͓͍̝̣͆͒͑̈́̀-̝̫ͦ͐̑̒ͭ͊g͇͉͖̣͓͙̒̚e̦̭̫̚n̬̫̺̗̙͛ͯe͙͇̭̩̥͐̊͗ŕ̪̖͕̖̮ͥͅa͍̪̺̤̼̍t̗ͩȇ̘̗̖̬͙̞ͯ̌̓̈ͯd͙̲͉̦̙̯̑͂͆ͥͤ̃ ̦̺̤̪̲̟̽͆͒̍̄̅e͈̥͗ͣͦ͛͋͂x͎͊ͦ̃̽́p̺̫͈ͬ̃́l̞̗̖̜͗o̬͈̦̼͎̅͑̔̇͗̆s̮̹̤͍̻͑i͈̟͈̖ͪͪ̈́͑̀̈́o̺̓ͨ̿́̄n̜͍͎͙̣̥̽̑ͥ͗ͥs̰̖̥͇̞̳͑̏͛̈́.̙̜̦̠͎̉ͭ́̀͂̽

͚̟̼̗͓̹̈́̿͛ͮ̓E͙̜ͣ͊ͅn͈ͪͅg̖̫̺̤̻̽̽̏ͤ̀ͧͭǎ̰͚̻̮̝̥́ͤǵ̜̼̓͑i̻̒̆̑̍ͪ̒ň̩̗̪̻̗̐ͤͬͅg̟̜͍ͫͦͬͣ͑̇ͥ ̼̖̂P͚̉ͮ͂̑́̆̍å̦̫̻̱̽r͈͍̈́ͯ͌̓ͬͤ̚a̯̩͚̪̺ͯ͑͗ͭ̍̾̑ḏ̠ͨͫi̞̼̜̦͔ͤ̃̍̓͗̏g̝ͧͪͨ͆̚̚ͅm̮̅ͥ̏͌ ̰̻̝̫̫͉͌ͤ̉͛I̘͔̠̝̺̿n̙̆̈́̅f͓̤̩̗̔l͚̟͖͈̦͇̺ͧ͊̈ͬã͇̳͉̜͚̑ͣ̋̄̀t͇͖͙̙̆ͮͤ̿̚i̹̹̺̟̟̤ͣͣ̉̑́̈́̚o̖͓͙͓͑̉̅̎̆̈́ͦn͓̫͔̙̮͗́ͪ͐.̯́ͨ̈̋̋ ̫͖̣̠̝̩͗A̙ͫn̖̱̠̼̣̼̐͋͑̏̉́ͯa̟̥̳͎̲ͯ̔ľ̟̦͕̩̙̰̗ͧỵ̜͕̠͚͔ͦͅš̺̬̮̰͉ͨͅͅi͙͖̦̣̻̥͈ͣ̒̔͗s̗̰͍̳̥̬̚:̖̙̲ͤ̆ͫ͒ͨͅ ̮̥̭ͫT͎̟̣̯̝̟̆ͧe͙ͣ̆̾͋̏m̞͇̪͙̬͑p̞̩̱ͦ̀͌̅́̎͒o̹͓̪ͬ̔ͬͨr̘̲̹̱̦͎̙ͪa̘̝͍̰͎̞̓͌r̫̱̱̺ͭ̅̋̑̅y͔̩͕̘͔̑ͯͫ̈́ͩ̑̏ ̮̮͍̣̼̗͙̍̈͐͊ṙ̟̹̲̠̙̹̾ͣ̒e̥̼͍̽͆͗͌̀d͙̣͐̅̀͗͂̚ů̹̥͉̭̤͔͂̓ͨͬͅc̪͚͇̹͈͋̍͑̄͑͛ṭ̩̥̤̙͒́î̦̱͎o͎͓͉͈͍͛ͪ̋̔͑̔n͍͉̔ ̮̜̘̭̀͌̈́ͣ̒̂̚i̖͉̬͔̬̥̮͗́̌ͧ̍̎n̜̟̹̞ͭ͗̅ ̩͓̖̥̾̽͌̎ͣ͒ͭs͎ͣ̓i̳̠̘͇̫̩͙̊̅ͧͮ̄z̞̖͍̱̲̲͒̿̂ͦͫ̐ͅȅ̮̩̄ͧ̒̚ ̳͔̰ͫ͛͆̂ͧ̃w͙̤͌̾̉h̠̼̻͙̃ͭị̤̭̜̼͎̾̈ͧ̏͋l̪̱͚̭͚̹͇̈̋̑ͭ͊͑̚s̮͊ͭͩͦ̌ͮt̥̱͓̋͊͆́̒̚ ̹̠̮͙̦̐̐ͅḿ̗̜̣͙͆a̯͇̙̬̯̾̓̽̒ͫ̉̚i̩̎ͣ͂̔̄̑n͎̟̹͈̼͔͋t͖̞̼̮̩͔̄͂̄ͬͪͤͦa͙͂͌ͫi͍͊ͩ̎͒͒n̘̼̅̏ͪ̋ͯi͕͍̭̗̫̍ͯ̇n͔̔͂̓̈̈́̚g̜͉͔̚ ͙̟̙̔ͦ́ͤ̌s̬̠̖̩̽͆̓ͧͯ̚á̫͍͈ͭ̓ͭ͊m̩̰̺͕͇̘ͣ͒̆͑ͧͤẽ̞̗̟̮̈̆̉ ̱͇̠̱̅̂̽̅͆̚p̝̞̈́̓́́̒̓r͎̮̞̂ͅò͍͚̥̱̜̓͑̈̔p̻ͯ̃ọ̜͓̹ͬ͊ṟ͓͕͓͂̀ͫ͐ͅͅț̜̳͇͇͓̀ͨͣͅi̪̲̹͓͓ͧ̌̄̋̿o͓̼̗̬̙͔̪̾ͪͮ̒̂̚n̮͊s͖͓̱̓̔͆̎ͬ̎.̤̞̬̇ͯ̉̚ ̰͉͍ͤͭ͒̈̓͂̈

Ā̱̦͈͖̙͎̂ͫ̆ͅŝ̙̰̮̲̠̄ͧ̈́̉s̖͎͋ͭu͉͇ͣ͌̇ͪͦ̌̄m̹͖̿ͭ̆̿̈́ẻ͉͈͖̥̚d̝̤̱̜̣̬͗̂̾ͣ̓̀ͅ ̖̤̳̳̐ͪ̾ͬ̂́̎ė͎̽̓ͥ͐x̤̄̾̓t͉̯̾̾͊r̠̰̀̆̀ͥͦ́͑ä͇̣͖̭̬̗̌̌ͣd̹̣̗͇̓͌ȉ̭̗̖̞͖̜̓͗̔̔m͎͈̖̫̻͇̉͑͛̿̎̾̀ͅẽ͎̺̣̗̬͛̑n͇̪̮͇̯̾s̲̮̦̮͇͙͉͂i̱͕̥̳͕ͩ̏ō̼̟̟̣̭̤̝̽̓ͬ̂̔n͈̟̊ͩͭͣͣ̎̎a̫͓̭͕͗ͤ̀͂ͣl̻̲̘͗͋̇͌ͦ̐ ̟̞̭̭͓̖̈͒ͨ̾s͕̦̩̖̞͇̭̍͊t̖̫̀ͦ̋͛ͪ̐o͉͇ͨ̿ͬ͆̔r̠͔͖̗̳ͤ̌a̮̭͖̟͙̪̍̌̈̃͛̏g̞ͬͭͯͦ̈́̐̏e͔̬̦̤͈̔ͅ ̯̼̦̩̹̭̗̋͆̐̄̐̚c̪̖͕͎͒ͫ̍̔ͅā̺̭̘͈̝̤̃̎ͭ̈̀̚p̠̺ͣ̉̉ͧͤ̒a̮͚̙̺͗̑̀c̼ͬͭi͎̒͂͑̍̅̚t̯̯̮̍̀y̩͍̲̞̩͆̈́ͅ ̣̑̓̉̓̎t̫̝̜̬͎̯́ͅo͍̝̱ͧͥ̌ ̺̼ͥ̔̒͑ͬͩa̭͐ͧ͆́ͬ͛v̻̯̻̝̺͕͕͒̂͒͋̋̚o͖̺̞̲̟̜̪̿̿͑̈̍i̜̭̠͆d̠̣́ͯͬ̓̊ ̱͚̖̳̣̭̑̆̅̿̈̚h̞̞͔͑̒͗ŷ̖͍͍͔̩̱p͉ͫ̔̃̆ͧe͍͚̟͐̓̌̈ͯͤr̩͖̝̜̳̰͒͐͛́̎͗͌-̼̪̼̥ͦͭ͗͋ͥ̀ͭd̻͒̌̿e̱̻̪̯̟̦͈ͯ͒͛̒́̑ǹ̳̰̝̪ͩ͋ͬͦ̉ͅs̱̞̤̯ͥ̔̽͑ͦí̻͖͆̂ͩͮ̓ͬt̻͍̃ͦͧ̎y̫̰͇̬̙̹ͯͫ͌ ̦̯̞ͫͥ̇ͯm͉̱̘̲͈̳̾ͩͦ͊̆̓á̭̹̗̮t̠̜͇̯̪̦͗̇̋̽̌̋̎e͓̼͈̰̝̓ͨr̤͕̺͚̰̠͉ͬỉ͙̭̼̻͍͇̺̍a̳̟̬̪̥͊͛̚ḽ̳̭ͤͯ̓̒̀͛̋ͅs͚̘̠͙͂ ̪̳͉̤̻̋̏̌̔́̈́ͮͅc̺̗͎͔̰̒̎͋ͯō̝͙̰͇̦̜͌͒͆͌̒͐m̹̖̗ͨ̾p͖̻̖̯̪̜̟̈́̅ͮ̊r͎̠̱̻̖̲ͬ̅̑͆͒o̭͉̤ͤ̽m̦̖͇̪̏ͩi̖̭̲̤̖̣͒̃̃s͕̹̯ͦ̀̒̌̂ͥ̎i̫̩̭̜̬̮̔n͇͌ͬ̓g̫̠̗̯̘̽ͥ̈́̇ͬ͗̚ͅ ̹̄̆̓̒̇h͔̘͊̄o͇͕̞̳̣̬̱̿̓̂s̫̖̹͉̋ͅt̺̞͉͖͎ͬͥ͗̉͐ͧ ̪̾͋ͨ̄b͓̺͖͇̘̯ͯ̂͐̍ǐ̝̹̻̮̥o̝͇̣̖̮̭͖ͪḻ̙̬̹͉͈̤̀ͧ̈́̏ŏ̜͕͚͒̂͊̆y̻̮̺͖̬͇͍̐̿ͦ̏.̻̭̳̤̞ͧ

3.7

Taylor felt exhausted as she stepped out of the PRT van.

They were a distance into the docks this time, the night air was cold, the stars obscured by a thick blanket of cloud. The area was such a mess, apparently it had been hit quite hard in the last few hours when the Empire had pushed into the area and Brockton Bays own mad bomber had taken some degree of issue with that...

"Sixth in twenty-four hours, isn't it?"

It was Dean who spoke. He, alongside Aegis, Vista and a few troopers were the security for this late-night exercise.

"Fourth, it just feels like six," Vista grouched, looking around them warily.

It was quite a mess, Taylor noted dispassionately.

She had seen quite a few bomb sites now, and no-two were the same, yet each was depressingly similar in story; a clash between the ABB and Empire, then out of the blue an explosion happened and by the time anybody from the police or PRT arrived the cause had already escaped.

Well... she supposed it was better that it happened between the gangs rather than targeting civilians, not that that had stopped the mad bomber from occasionally doing so.

At this point, Taylor had little doubt that most of her teammates would gladly brutalise the young woman, it was not just a case of trying to minimise the damage and secure her safely anymore. By now Bakuda was a threat to the entire city and the pressure intense, the scrutiny of the PRT constant, even if she was shielded from it. It felt like a powder keg just waiting to explode... ironically.

And somehow, Ordinant was the one being called out the most of the Wards, neutralising the various leftover Shaker effects that some of the more exotic bombs produced.

At least she managed to get that bike ride, even if it took some needling of Armsmaster.

Taylor sighed as she rolled her head on her neck.

Honestly, what a time to be out... she had gotten the emergency call only an hour ago, the PRT needed this particular effect cancelled as soon as possible. Taylor had barely had the time to change before the pickup. This had to be stretching the bounds of her contract with the organisation... right?

But at the same time, she wanted to help anyway that she could, and this was far more useful to the world than sleep.

Taylor stifled a yawn.

She had been having such a lovely dream...

Still.

The area looked like it had been through some shit; there were random craters here and there, shattered windows and glass... a car that looked like it had been through a war, she had not seen so many bullet holes in something before. Brockton Bay really was sliding into an abyss.

As they emerged, one of the troopers, a PRT Sergeant, was walking closer. Taylor was not sure if she had met him before, she may well have, but her memory was kind of shot from the events of the last few weeks.

She tried squinting for a nametag, but could not find one.

"What have we got this time?" she asked.

She did not really need to know, her power would just cancel out whatever effect was going on, but at this point she was almost curious. The ABB bomber seemed to have quite the repertoire; it was with a sort of begrudging tone of voice that Kid Win had commented on such just the previous day. Had he been envious? Taylor had spoken with him less than some of the other Wards, he was often cooped up in his rooms distracted with Tinkering.

"More of those holographic effects, but not too many, and she's got this new one that warps time in the area," he explained, the four troopers in his team stood behind but all keeping a guarded watch. This far into the docks, given the current situation, it was needed.

Taylor repressed a sigh.

Great.

Now the bomber was learning from Gray Boy's example, a part of her thought, waspishly.

"Okay, well... point out where they are and I'll get started. Probably just take a minute or two."

The amount of time it actually took her to deal with the after effects of the bombs was barely even a fraction of the time and effort in the entire operation, transport and security was much more.

"You know, never actually seen you use your power, Ordinant," Aegis commented as the Sergeant and his men led them. She was glad for the presence of the other Wards; the troopers were on such an edge that their comforting proximity managed to lighten it a little.

"It doesn't really have any sort of visual... it kind of just happens, to be honest," she gave a half-shrug.

The first effect to cancel was another of the illusion bombs. It had recreated the illusion of four armed men, they were indistinct enough that looking at them closely revealed the flaws, but then again, if the opposing Empire forces had been in the middle of a firefight, would anybody really look at the details of a person or shoot first, ask questions later?

She cancelled it.

Of course, there was no real reaction from Dean or Aegis when she did so, bar a momentary refocusing as they looked at the area, now lacking the illusion that had hidden it before.

"Man, that was weird--" it was Vista who spoke up, reaching to press her palm into the side of her head, only for her helmet to get in the way.

Oh, shit.

"You okay?" Taylor asked, perhaps a little sharply. The youngest Ward had spent quite a bit of time with her recently, after the night of stargazing. They had repeated it a few days later, when they had both dragged themselves back from another patrol and taking care of two bomb after effects.

Neither of them were ones for sleep, it seemed.

Taylor was rather suspecting that there was something off in the other girl's homelife.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I am fine. It's just... it kind of messed with my powers a little, it's odd, like for a moment my power could not work at all even if I had tried," she said.

Well, Taylor thought, it was only a natural interaction between their powers, in many ways they were opposites. Vista warped the world and made a mockery of its notions of space, whilst she could only return the world to how it should be. A world without powers, without unnatural interactions born from human willpower or... whatever powers were.

The way this world was supposed to be.

Sometimes, late at night when she felt stressed or worried, she used her power as she stared up at the stars, if only for the sense of normalcy it created--

The first illusion dealt with, they began clearing out the others. The night was quiet bar the crunching of boots against rubble, the skidding of stones accidently kicked, the wind in her ears. Her fellow Wards were mostly focusing on the area around them, wasn't it a bit much--no, the last time she had gone down that line of thought it had not ended well.

The warped time effect was next, the Sergeant and his men led the way through the devastation.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Something felt wrong, just like when she felt--

Her hand snapped out as she grabbed Vista by the shoulder and roughly pulled the younger Ward behind her. By instinct, she used her power at full force right as Dean suddenly shouted out, looking towards the distant apartment building.

"There--"

A deafening sound, one that she could not even describe, she was only aware that it came from their side, from the direction of a derelict building of old, crumbling apartments. The air was shimmering, warping, she saw it almost in slow motion as the expanding explosion approached, as it met her own power and the two clashed and hers won out, pushing, and crushing the anomalous effect mercilessly.

But for the trio of troopers who had been out ahead of them, she watched as they trembled and shook, as their bodies contorted and warped horrifically. One of them, who had been at the back, fell within the radius of her field just a second after being hit by the was not so bad, but the others... the others, one had been forcibly turned inside out, the Sergeant looked as if he was melting, dripping, and pouring out of his own uniform and armour.

A bomb that warped flesh!?

"--Ruining all my bombs you fucking bitch!"

Somebody was shouting at them, a woman, was Bakuda here? She had to be, right? That was what Dean had been reacting to.

Everyone was already beginning to fall back, Aegis and Dean had leapt into motion, the former leaping forward to grab the one trooper that her power had been able to reach in time as the two remaining troopers raised their guns to return fire; there was no notion of non-lethal force right now.

"Go!"

Another grenade whose effect was cancelled the moment it began by Taylors power; Aegis had pulled the injured trooper fully into her field and further. Dean could only do so much in this situation, Vista could not use her powers properly so long as Taylor had her power up.

Another grenade, this one made it through the field without exploding, Taylor redoubled her power, to make sure that the moment it detonated she would counter it.

This one was--

A perfectly normal grenade.

In a moment, Taylor jumped in front of it. She did not even know what made her do it, she just did it automatically.

Her power did nothing as it detonated, she felt the force of the blast hit her full on, the next second, she was in the air, hitting the floor heavily, aware only of the hard tarmac under her back, her ears ringing and head spinning as she struggled to see, struggling to breath. Her legs hurt, she idly noted.

She could not feel her feet.

She had no feet.

The blast wave had shattered the crystal, another part of her mind informed her in an almost detached, disconnected manner.

Her vision cleared, the others, they could not escape so long as her power was up, right? She dropped her powers field, just the immediate space around her, she could act as some sort of shield, perhaps, for the others. They would be able to get away.

Her mind was in shock again, it thought so clearly and rationally yet irrationally despite everything going on around her.

The others were being warped away by Vista, retreating. She saw Aegis dive her way to pick her up, but of course--

Vista's power did not work on her, and her power's field was still up even if she had reduced its area. He dives, expecting to be able to grab her even as they were being pulled away, only to be left grabbing thin air. Vista had forgotten about her power, the younger ward was saying something, was she shouting as well? Bakuda was as well, the air was filled with noise and voices, cackling, mocking, her name as well, her Cape name that is.

The others, their voices were far away now, they must be retreating right?

So long as they were safe.

...

... She was going to die.

The realisation came to her suddenly.

Her legs were shattered, Bakuda was in the doorway with more explosives, and quite done lobbing them down the street. How hard would it be for her to lower that launcher forty degrees or so and just blast Taylor to bloody shreds? The largest pieces of her they might find would be a fragment of crystal, and what a cruel irony that would be.

Or would she be taken alive as a hostage, just another burden on those she loved, on the city as she was used as a bargaining chip? In a moment dozens of possibilities swam through her mind. Maybe set up as a trap somewhere, luring people in only to be blown up properly to take as many people as possible?

No... no... she

She clenched her fist.

She wanted to live the time she had left, there was still so much to do, so much to experience--

~~~~~

Ț̳̖̙ͧͤḣ̘̰͓̺̍ͦ̔̎̓̚r̩̹͎̩̯̼͉̞̓̔͛͌̊̂̆ͤ̚e̞̹͕͚̲̯ͮͦa͖̝͉̗͓͙͚̬̞̓̓ͬ̊̃̓t͚̝̣̽ͩ͗͛̚ͅ ̼̏̊ͥͥͣa̠̬̗̮̐ͣͮ̍̐͗̐͐̄ͅs͓͕̟̞̥̠̦̃ͮ̀̈́̾ͯͬs̱̮̰͕̻̳̪̈ͅe͈̮̪̳̬͌̎̋̃̆͒s̥̃ͭͤ̀́̈́͆ͩ͐s͔̪͔̣̜̪̲͉͆ͤ́̏ͮ̓̚m̯̟͉̙̗̤̠͎͒ͮ̾̄̆ͫ́̆͐ḛ̳̲̤̦̟̹ͦ͒̽̓ͅn͎̻̣̹ͥ͑̾̓̾̌͒t̮̝̻̼̩͚̏ͯͅ:̮͓̲̄̽̂ ͖͍̗̱̈͒̇ͥ̌́̚M̬̞̬͔̣̩͇̠ͧ̈́̒̏̄̋̽ͩǔ̬̪̮̹̳̬̹̉̂ͩl͓̥͉̲͓̗ͫͥͣͤ̎̊͑̌͊t̩͉̟͕̳̼̟̿ͩ͑̈ͥ̀i͓͓̦̩̲̘̜ͯ͊̽̓̌ͦ̃͑̏p̣̼̠͖̆ͣͩ̿͋̎̈̏l̺͈̮̹̦̅̋͊ͯ͋̾͗̃̀̒é͎̲̹̬ͭ̈́ ͕̲̞̯̿͆͑ͅr̘͈̖͕̭̻̺̜̰̜ͭ̾̔ͯͥ͐ḛ͔̙̹̩̆ͪ͋́ͯͭͩͧa͔̲̰̰̩͖ͪ̒͊̄̍͐͆̈́l̥̩̣̩͊ͩͦ͐̓͒͑ͩ̈́̚i̗͌ͯt̯̠̞̠̮͐͗ͥͤ̄͂y̺̖̯͖̱̭͖̋͋͋͑ͧ́̎̅-͉̓i͔͚̣͎͌̉ͨͪ̇̽̑͊ͮn̰͎̑̋̆͂ͩ̿͊f̠̥̣̰̖̥ͬ̂̋̂ͬ͂͐l͉͓͎̤͕̉̅̓̉̚u̪͔̳̿ͮ̾ͨ̃ͫ̌̎̎ḛ̂n̯̭͉ͤ̔̃̏ͫ̏̈́͒c̖͎̥̓i̖̠͍͉̞̼̩͛͐̇n̩̰̟̯͖̝ͪ̉̈ͯ̆͊͂̚g̜͕̟̥ͫ̂̀ͥ̆ ͕̹͓̼̱̙̘̑ͩͧ̾̏ͯͅa͔̫ͥͣ̋͌̈́͑̑r̪͕̃ͮm̯̰͔̥̹̀̐̎͂͐̓̐ͫ̉̚a̻̻̗̫̟̣̞̝̙͋͛ͦ̍̃̽̍m̟̔̑̌ͯ̀e̱̤̳͉̒̉̍̃̍̾͆͗͂̈́n͚̯ͧͪ̐t̠̘͇͎͍͉̼̮̫͎͑͌s̻̅ͮ̈̔,͉̖͈̈́͆ͧ̋ͨ̓ͥ̈́ ̼͕̹͈͈̬̖͔͚͒͑̿͑̋̃̿̓̀ͪc̹͕͂ͧͥ͊̂͆ā̤̞̳͈̤̪͚̻̾̊̓̓͒p͖͖̖̙̤̪ͫ̐̇̀̅ͣ̽͑̑̚a̳̓ͬͫ̽́ͫͯ̑ͦͣc̹̦̬͋̊ỉ̹̪͕t͓͈̦̦̙̓ͫ̿̉̓̓̔̂̋y̳͆ ̤̈́̀́̅̊͒ͥ̍ͮt͖̤̣̲̰̩̑o̩͈̗̙ͯ͋ͯͩͨ͑ ͉̫̣͔͍̻ͫ̋̇̎̓́ͮͨͫd̩̬̦͓̙̱͚̮̤͓̿e̦̪ͣͥ̄̿͂͂͗̋v͇͚̻̌̿̈́͐̀̈e̦̼̰̦͉ͦ̓̒ͫ͆͒̌ͬ̔l̺͎͕͎̪͕̣̾ͦ̐͑̿̓̏o̳̼͉̝̗͎̗̣̖͙̐ͮͬp̣̗͖̳̜̥̰̗̣̒̊ͬͪ̓͌͐̅̚ ͙͔͎ͨ̀ͮ̄̈́̀ͬͥ̚ḁ̎ͬ͆̈́̊ͬd̹̪̰̮̻͈͈̠͛̈̒͂ͪ͊ͬ̇̚d̼̮̖̖̞͕͔̬̤͐i̪̱̠͚̩ͭ͌͆ͯͅt͈͍̤̹̖̺͍̤̆̐ͥ́ͬ̊ͭ͒i̘̘̼ͨ͐̿̾o̲̗̲̝͒̑̏̽ͯͯ̅̾n̞ͧ͌͐a̦̱̭̗͈͐̉̈́͋̇̓̌̾̔ḽ̳̙͊̽͆̽̎̀ͥ̚ ̦̦̞̪̹̲̜͙̬͗̍t̰͔̝̗̤͓͔̊ͮ͋̅̑e̤͔̼͕̫̳̔̈̍͂c̼̬̱̪͙͓̟̦̳ͧ͋̍̇̄ͬḫ̦̲̼͈̫̜̣̻̥̓͗ͯ͆̚n̦̻̲̄̊ͪȍ̼͔̫̱ͧl̠͉̰͎̭͓̘̻͈̿̆͗ͬö̺̪̹͚͎̖̑ͭͬ͊̆ǧ͔̘̠̯͉̱ͫ̍̏̈ͧ̿̓ͩi̦̰̣̗͙̲̜͂ė̮͇͎̐ͭ̏̇̋͌ͣ̈́s̪̅ͫͯͬ̍

P̬͙̦͊͌͂̐̒o̹̥̲ͤ͒ͣ̃ͦt̫̤̰͖ͯ̌̆̓̂̚e͕̤̋ͮñ̥͗̒͒ť̫̹͇ͦ̎̇͑͗̚i̖͚̋̐͑ͥͤa̬̖̼̬̘̓̋ͦͨl̝̅̇ͨ͒ͮͯ ͉͇͉͋̓͆t̩̞͓ͮ͆̏̂̔h̲̪̰͈ͮ͆ͧ͗ͤͪͮr̭̦̟̰̋̾̒̈̚e̞̐a̫͈̩̩̘̮̱͗ͪ͗t͍̪̰̼͕̫̓̔͂ ̘͕̰̯͕̐͋͒͂̊ͅu̬̗̰̯̙̅͑̈n̗ͣ̊̎͆͛ͧ̎́a͙̜͍̭ͤc̦͇̜͕̘̐ͭ͌̇c͔̻͔̳̯̞̪̭ͤͪ̈́e͇̺̤̎ͤ̉͋͑̎ͣͅp̖̦̠͕͂͋͒͆̀͌ṫ̖̪͚̩͖̻̅̒̾̈́ͯ͗ͮͅa̺̮̰̘̓̃̏b̞͔̯̠͈̣̗ͫͫ̓̌ͬͅl̙̱̩̣̑̋ͅe̺͍ͦͬͩ͂̓

À̠̪̝͎̒s͇͍͎̥̱͖̳͒̈́ͭ̾ͬ̈́͊ͮ̿s̩̰̩̬̗̟̘̯̓̈̄u͙̟̪ͭͮͩ̊m̰͙̳̯̮̮̣ͩ̉̿ͣi̗̰̗̥̩̬̲̰ͮ̊̓ͮ̈́n̤͓̋͋ͥͅͅg͔ͥ͑ͤͮ̌ ̯̞̮̖̰̰ͦ̍d̪ͫ͗̃̚i̭̙̰̻̫̰̩͊r͖̝̪̲̪͔̳̱̃ͤ͌̀̀͗ͯ́ė̼̫̫̝̥͙̘̫̬̅ͭͅc̫͉̝̝̻͔͓̪̙̼ͫt͙͚̝̘̮̾ͯ ̻̰̱ͦć͎̙̘̥̪͎o͈̼̜̭ͭ̍́ͅn̤̽̍ͭͯ̓͂̚t͎̲̱̻̩̳̗ͪr̖̠̹̰̫̘͖͙̫͙ͩ͋̿̊ȯ͖̤͙̼ͨ͛̃͑͊͋̔͌͛l̗̅ͪ̆ͩ̍̅̌̇̆

R̙͆̉e̱͖̲̳͒̈q͎̙͍̀u͕ͩ͋̂ͬe̯͕̤̣̓̑ͫ̈́ŝ͎͇̤̍ͧͯt̳̠̑͒̐̽i̞̠̖̥̓͂nͥ̑̉ͅg͇͕̅̾ ͍̩͈̅r̞͇̼̊͋ḙ̟̿j̲̹̑e̦̫ͩ̆c̼̥͋̂̀ͮṯ̹ͪ̆ͬi̱͍͙̪ͪ̒o̼ͧͧͥ̊n̗͑̓.͇́ ̰͕̃͐̉̅S̠̰̹̖̄ė̻̙̦͐́l͉̑͊̌̏f͕͈̺̤̋ͮ͂ ̫̠̲̺͗̎i̹͚̝̔̓̏̑m̫̦͈̻ͧ͒ͭp̲̆ͨo͔̭͋ͮ͊s̘̟̈e̠͖̝̖̓͋̃d͔͒ ̳̺̋̇͋d̺̯̳̱ͥ̂̚i̩͈ͤ̽͆͆r̗̝̹ͧ͌ͬe̯͂͆č̦̈t͙̄ͨ͆ͦi͖̙̭̎͑ͪͫv͔̦́e̪̱̚:̰͕̫̪̈̽ ̲͙͈ͭ̔L̆ͧͫͅị̀͑̽̚v̩̩̟͂ȅ̦͔̬͔̐/͖̺̣ͩḘ̎x͎̆̽t͈͖͚͙͂̚e͔͌r̮͈̖̉ͭͅm̪̗̙̙̈̔ͦͯị͈̉̍ṋ̀͊a͎̳̹͒ͅt͇͙̳̀̈́̚e̪̘̊ͪ.̰͌̅ ͚̝̔̊̉̓R͙͑ḛ͕̦̎̿q͉ͪ̿̋u̮ͨͬe̝̓̄ͯ̌s̬̮͉̒̒ͫt̯́̐̈ḯ̙͖͉̄̋n̫͉̯̯ͩg̤̎͆ ̞̼̜ͬc̦ͥ̽a͉̗̜ͭ͆͊̚p͇̪͕̝̏ͣͣa̬ͧc̳̰̏ͫ͛i̩̜̯̤ͧ̆ͬt̪͉̭̓y̹͓̬̪ͧ̾͗ ̪̜̜͓ͧͫ̄ȁ̭̳͖̂́ṷ̫͎̄̒ͫg̙̰ͮͧ̋͋m̳̙̦̬̄ͦ̐͌e͎͗n̠̓͋̀ͭt̫͙̥͚͒ͧa͕̺̳̳̓t̲͓͑i̘̖̐̎͆o͓̩͓͚̽n̻̤̾

~~~~~

Taylor slammed the crystal fist into the tarmac, pushing the hateful material into the soft surface and leaned forward, rolling onto her knuckles to push herself up.

She felt the multiple broken pieces of her legs clinking and grinding against one another like shards of glass, locking into place each even as her body screamed at her for her effort. Taylor forced herself to her feet, which wavered for just a moment but did not give under her weight, the crystal holding itself together as it rapidly began to repair.

"--jeez, persistent little shit aren't you? You really should have just stayed down,"

Vision rapidly clearing, Taylor could see Bakuda pointing the grenade launcher at her again, saw as if in slow motion as she took aim, and Taylor braced her back foot as she took a single step forward.

Taylor more felt then heard the explosion as she activated her power in as large a desperate, forceful radius as she could, as the blast of pain in every nerve cell in her body should have instantly incapacitated her, she grit her teeth and forced her leg forward, tortuously and feeling each little moment of movement in just a single second. She had no doubt that her body looked a mess, her armour was in tatters and her feet had regenerated bare.

Her heel met the ground, and she pushed off.

Her eyes cleared through the pain to see Bakuda still here, the grenade launcher still levelled.

She took another step--

~~~~~

R͙̲̟̻̪̘͖͇̝̦̣̝̉͌́͒̏̇ͣ͒̉̎̊ẽ̪̼̜̖̭̘͆̏c͚̰̪̞̖̩̱̔̔́ͨ͐͊ͪḁ͚̘̽̎̄̔ͥ͋̑͐̿̈́͆l̜̙͎͈̰̭͇ͫ̾̒ͥͅl͔͚͈̙͚̖͔̳ͫ̓̓ͨ̃͑͛͌̆̾ỉ̭̝͙͈̗̼ͧ̄̂́̈̋n̺̲̭̪̦̯͉̺ͨͩ͒͒̚ͅg̤̥̙̝̘̩̞̼͒̓ ̪͚͙̲̭ͧ̅̔P̗̯̬̝̹͚̲̻̗̱͙͇̓̓ͨ͛̋a̰̼̖̦̠͚̣̻̳͖ͣ̄̽͒̈̓͛r͕̽ä͚̱͚́̅͐͌͛̄̅̔́̽̾d̟͍͙̤͙͓͛̉̓ͪ̂̄̐ͦ̋͂̌̚ị̘̹͉̺̩̣̼̣ͨͭ͋̇̌g̫̯̝͖̱͚͎͈̯͎̉͗̽ͩ̆̌͊̉͐m̳̞͕͉̲̺͔̙͇͇̠̏̒̔̇̓ͪ̒̾ ͎͉͍͖͆͒I̩̼͌̾̍ͮn͙͇ͩͬ́̚f͕̱̘̘̊͒ͩ̌͗͊̉̿l̬̠͚̞̺͇̒̀a̲͓̣ͭͦͫ̔̓ͥ̾ͅť̯̣͓̹͙̖̤̥̼̟̀i̮̦̦͔̻̼͕̪͉̲̳͒ͯͣͬͥͥ̌ͅo̘̤ͥ̽͑ͨǹ̩͗.̘̣̪̺͓ͥ̓ͪͧ̅̌ͥ̈ͯ̉ ̯̪̠̜̟͈ͧͯ͑̊́̽͂̊̚Ạ̖̠̣̤ͣń̺̙̠̼̣̲̗̮̈́ͅa̻͔̤̻͎̻͇̫͔̩̗͊ͨ̇ͅl̥͔̟̱̟̯͌y̳̹̫̜̰͎̽s̩̺̯̖̗͉̅ͤ̆̔̄̈͆̚i͇̘͚̰̝̫͉̙̖̞̙͑̈̄̂ͅs͍̜̖̫̯̞̞̪̭̮ͯ͛ͩͩ̔ͫ͆ͥ.R͓̞̼̳̮͇̜̯̩̠͉̣̃̒̊͐ͥ̎̔͂͐͋e̮̤̺̥̩̱̤̐ͤ͆̑̒f̮̟̭̗̎ͨ͆̆̌ẻ̗͚̦̹̓ͅṟ̦̰̰̦̱̺͔̮̣̬ͨ͑̄̑͋ͣͤͣ͛͌͗͗e̟̥͈̞̗͌̑ͬͭ͂̃̑͗ͅn̰̙̯̦̯͕̳̥ͥͥ̍̒̃ͭ̚č̣̪͉̈̌̾ͅe̺̯̤͇̯̥̥ͥ͛:̘̱̗̻͉̞͔͙͙̼͕̇ͤ̍ͦ̍̓̉͌͐ ̜͙̘͖̳̙̟̍͒ͯ̍͋̂̈́̐̽̃̚'̭̘͕̲͚͇͚͔͌͑̊̓ͯ̿͊́ͅA̰̼͇̯ͩ̏ͥ͗͐̐̒e̱͓̙̝̳͌ͤͬͯͫ̌ͫ̓ͥ͌͊̈g̟̥̼͉͕͎̒ͪͮ̊ͯ̔̎ͦͅī̲͓̠͚͍͓̪̬͕͑ͨ̌ṣ̥͚̔̀̒̊̌'̲ͪͮ͌̓ͦ́̈ͬ́.:̞̼̬̘͕͕͊̍ͫ͂̓̏̽̂̚A͎̟͊̈̃̇̐̎ͨͧ̂ͥͅṕ̇̋ͅp͍͈̝͓͊̓̎ͪͮ̃l̼̝͖̺͉̳̖̓ͣ̓̃͋̆͊̂̓ͫy̤̝͍̗̲̙̳͓ͦ̒̍̐̽ͮͥ̇̚ȉ͖͒̽̐̍ͤ̆̐n̜̠̩̣̺̯̪̗͈̖̜̤̅̆g̮̪̲͉̟̗̩̮̣ͦ̋̄ͤ̈ͨ̅̍́ͣ̈́ ̣̝̗̲̲̮̿͋͒ͤͥ̆̓̾P̖̱̟̘͙̭͕̊̀ͤ̑ͭ̆ͬä͓͖̗͎̭́͑r̹̲̬̮̻̮̜̣̘̟̒ͯ̅ͬͥ̾͆̂̌͛̓a̩̜̱̮̭̘̘̬͔͇̘ͥ̃̇͛̀̚d̯̬̽ͪ͌ͯ̌ͨ̆̒̈ͮ͆ị̬͔̠͆̉ͪͫ͑̎̏ǧ̜̳̦̞̗̞́̇͋ͅͅm͓͖̯̹̣̤̌̒̉ͤ͌ͣ̔ ̲͇̪̦̟̬̱͆̒ͦ͐͊̆ͯ̋I̠̜̺̮̖͎͕̤͕͇̚n̯̭̺̠̩̜ͪ͊ͨ̌̿͛ͭ̇ͪ̀͌f̻̲̥͇̂͛͑̓̈l̯̫̦̮̲̦̤̦̺̉̌ͧͮ̂͂̂a̫̳͉̺̤͙͕̼̳͋́͆̉̓̋͗̌̄ͩt̯͉̙̦̝̠̣̖͍̰͌i͇͉̲̥̭̹̠̞̣͋ͮ̐̄͋̔ͮͣ͒̋ͅȏ͕͑ͯ͌ň͓̮̫̙̥̲͖̖ͫ̽̐̽́ ͖̤̯͈̃ͮ͊̌ͪ͊̀(͇̤͕̐ͪ͋̎͌ͮ̉́̈́̈́́ͤr̦͙͎̬̺̅ͨ̾̆̈́̓e̗ͣ̍ͨ̓f̙̳̰̰͙̰̦̉̒̅̇̆ͫ̑̿̂͋e͎̪̖̖̰͉͐̿̇ͩ̊ͦͦ̎ͦr̜̞͈̻̮̞̙̱̜̜̖̒̾͆̾̏̒͗e̞ͥͩͦ̊͌̓̚ǹ͍͙̩̦͉̬̦̹̓ͭc͔̮̘̞͖̜͇̟̣̈́ͯ̈́̎̀̈͗̚e̮͖͖̠̼̭̘̲͓͉ͩ̉̒̑̊ͥ̏ͅ;̜͕̜͉̮̗̩̗̞̼̿͌̂͆̄ͅ ̗̩̤͔̼̎'̜̞͖͓̦̤ͭ̀͊̔͊̀̎́̄̚Ḁ͔̙̺̼̙͖͈̳̀ͣͦě̮̞̭̳̝̼̌͆g̪͕͋͆i̦̓ͪ̓̎ͯ̈̄̊͊̑̅ͮs̥͎̖̱̯͚͖̐̊̀͆̂͊ͩ̓͑'̦̳̤̮͑̆̽͗ͦ͋ͦ̚)̤̞͓̦̪̺̫̰̦̲̪ͩ ͔̹̠̳̹͓̺̎ͭͪ̋ͦ̚t̹͆ͩͬ͊͋o͔͎͙͖̭̙̹̻͋ͪ̏̋̈̑ͯ͒͑͐ͪ ̗͎͙̯͎͉̼̞̀͒ͤͣ̈̇ͮͅḊ̘̰̮ͣͩͯ͌͗ͅr̪̬̹͊ͦ̒ͮͪ̊ͩ͂o̤͔̰̰̟̱̣͈͕̥̊ͅn̠̣͎̥̳͍̼̞͖̳ͨẻ͖̻͓̫

R͙ͦ͂ͣͬ͆̄ͧ͐̍̈́̈́é͚̠͈̪̭̖̈ͥg̤̖̰̾͑͋̉ͦ̎̾͒͑ͦͦͅẻ̞͔͖̫̉͆ͩͥͥ̚n̹̘͈̗̟̠ͭ͗̽͊̔͌̉̓̂̿ͫe̘͖̦͚̖̦̫ͯͯ͊͌́̂̐̍͋ͦͧͅr͓̤̯̟̪̬̤̟̬̐̉̍̓̃ͅa̯͕͈͚̹̦ͮt̬̞͈̹̫̮͗ͦͦ͂ï̥͙͚̜̟̯̙̖̻͓̈͗ͧ͆̾̔̆̈́̀ò̺͕̱̙̜͈̫͕͇͔ͪ͛̾̒̂̈ͥ̏n̗͈̠̬̺̩ͧͅ ̙͖̲͈͚̄̃ͦr͍͖̦͓̗̪͇̱̣̜̆͆ͮͨ͌͑̄́͗͗a̩̱̯͍͕͍̠̪͍͑̐̾t̼͔̬̭̟̦͔͓̟ͦ͂̑̿̈̌̉ͩ̚ͅẽ̮̺̦̯ͪ ̪͖̟̦̙͓̤̰̜̭͙͑̅ê̹̬̰͗n̖̣̲̦̖͔̂̀ͦ̒̏͆h̞̽a̯̘̖̠̫̲̠̜ͤ̓̄͊n͈̫̹̤̬̺̓͐ͭ͋ͩͣ̆͛ͯͮͦc͚̄͒̓̔̑̿̇ͦ̌̓e͇͙̜̙̥̰̩͔͕̬ͨ̋d̘̺͍̮͎̩̜͕̻̃̏̎̆ ̲̈̓̈͋͛͑E̦̙͕̻͕͇͓̟̱̠̙ͪͭͦ́ͯͬx͈͎̲̩͖̦͚͍̏͛̆̌͐̿ͨp̘̲͕̗̎ͬͣ̃͊̅a͍̲̿̚n͙͒̓̚d͙̼̝̪̽͋ḯ̝̥̂̅ͧ̃ͯͫṋ̦̳͍͕̣̮̙̖̮ͯ̇ͨ͂̇̍̚ğ͇͎̪͉̞̫̤̼͓ͭ́̈́̈́ ̥̳͕͕͕̜͔ͤ̔̓ͩ̾͒̏̑ͨ̏ͅp̞̬̼̳̟̪̫̹ͧ̃̌̓̐ͫ͛ͅa̰͓͇͕̙͈̱ͪ̾̊͗ͭͮ̈ͩ̌ͅr̞ͤ́͆́ͨ͑a̞͈̳̰̹̥͙̲̬̍ͬ̾ͤ͂́͑̚ͅm̜͕̘̎ͣͨ̅̃ě̮͓͓̬͔̩̄̉̈ͧ̚t͉̯̖̣̩̯̬̝̪̫̿e̳͖̫̼̙̹͔̹͖͉̔͐̿͑̏ͩr̺͈͇̆̏̏̽́̏̌͐s̜͙͔̩̖͔͎̓̏̔ͫ͂̌͆ͅ

~~~~~

An explosion, right next to her face, for a moment she couldn't feel anything, her entire brain shook and she was pretty sure that her entire face should have been blown right off, if she was thinking logically. But that was the last thing on her mind right now, because she was still alive, that was all that mattered. So long as she was alive. She could feel her regeneration, faster than ever before, the new flesh felt a little odd as the wind hit her tendrils hair--

"JESUS WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!"

It was Bakuda screeching at the top of her voice.

Taylor forced another step, her face ached as the more delicate features returned, as she regained vision in her right eye, as her nose extended out. She had no idea if her regeneration really was tied to how much damage she took, but this was definitely faster than before. Did her body need to adapt and grow, like her power only growing stronger with exposure?

Bakuda was running, she had been in a doorway but now Taylor saw her running, looking over her shoulder Taylor's way.

Taylor strode through the doorway, all thoughts of her team gone, her legs carrying her inevitably forwards as more explosions boomed around her, as Bakuda turned at the end of the hall to launch more things her way. New effects, old effects, all of them crippling, agonising and she pushed through.

If it wouldn't just kill her then she would force her way through it.

Bakuda continued to run.

She could do so, she could run as far as she wanted, Taylor would follow, would never give her rest. All living things ran out of energy eventually.

"Stop it, buy me some time!"

Turning the corner, Taylor saw Bakuda continuing to run, a group of men in bandanas hastily taking up a baseball bats and knifes and other weapons, a few even had guns. She bore down on them as they focused on her, the air once more filling with sound and noise, the bringing up of bats and impromptu weapons, the deafening bangs as she was shot.

The screaming was echoing off the walls as she did not stop moving, as she lashed out unceasingly, blind aggession taking over from training, barely feeling the wooden bat against her arm as it sent reverbations up her arm, barely flinching when one of their heads exploded only feet away from her, showering her with bone and brain. It was all so fast, she barely had time to take notice before there was another, another, another, a pile of them.

It was only when the screaming stopped that she realised there were no more of them left to deal with.

The slam of a door, up ahead.

It led to a stairwell. Another slam from below, there was a basement, at its bottom a door, reinforced, heavy, bulky. Locked as well.

She brought her fist against the door, again and again and again. She had no idea what she was hoping to achieve, just that she needed to get through, and she could, she would just break her way through it. Rational consideration of factors had disappeared, replaced with cold, emotionless logic. Pursue, break through everything in the way until she reached the threat, the target.

She could hear something in her ears, could feel distant emotions, and thoughts that she ignored. Her own thoughts and emotions weren't needed right now.

A finger snapped off, she was not punching with the right form but fuck it, it would just recover later she just needed to get in and fuck the crystal anyway--

Another finger, her hand was cracking and crumbling under the force of the blows even as it tried to repair itself, chunks sheared and splintered off as the door took the pummelling, the metal of the lock was warping and breaking and bending under her assault even as her arm suffered the same way, until her forearm was just a spike of crystal gleaming hatefully in the weak light, and which she finally punched through the metal of the lock.

She forced the door open.

The room beyond was a workshop, once perhaps it had just been a storage space, there were boxes everywhere, tables, an ABB drug lab once? On its other side Bakuda was hunched over a table, so much less precise, more desperate than the careful work of Armsmaster when he was working on her prosthetic.

The girl whipped around as Taylor strode forwards, eyes fixed, unblinking. No words needed, inefficient. Just get to p̬̣ͧ͋r̼̞̅̇eý̩̳͆ Bakuda.

The explosions began again, the room was filled with noise and sights that could not be comprehended or understood by a rational mind. Each step she flared her power to break and shatter whatever effect the bombs unleashed, the loud clink of her crystallised feet meeting the floor as clear a bell between the explosions.

Meaningless.

I͉͕̐̑n̳͓̎͂signi̮̭̎͑f͇̯̉̌ica̭̰͐̅n̰̰̔̑t.

Everything Bakuda did was a waste of her own time and energy.

Taylor stepped forwards through the hell on Earth, she did not so much as blink as she marched through explosions physical and esoteric, she didn't even know what was happening around her for the lights and the flashes, the pain and sensations maddening but she forced her body to keep moving forwards.

Always forwards.

So long as she ẗ͙̫̈́he̟͔͑̓y̬̺͗͆ could keep stepping forwards, ẗ͙̫̈́he̟͔͑̓y̬̺͗͆ could adapt to each effect--

No.

So long as she kept moving, so long as she forced herself to take the next step she would make it, so long as she didn't just give up and crawl into a hole to die, she would see tomorrow she would live another day and make something out of this life.

The explosions were echoing, she was pretty sure she was dead a half-dozen times but the feeling of the ground, be it concrete, crystal, rock, flesh, warping, twisting or anything else... it was still there, and so long as the ground was there, she could keep moving forwards.

Sometimes, between the flashes and the effects of the explosions she could see Bakuda, getting more and more frenzied in her barrage with each step that Taylor took forward, she could see the prey was taking a step back, another, another for each step she took forward, until her back hit the wall and there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to run Bakuda! Cower, hide away because Taylor was only growing inevitably closer and closer.

The explosions stopped, Bakuda would be within her own bomb radius now.

"--I surrender I surrender--"

Bakuda was shouting something insignificant.

Through a haze of pain, driven by sheer spite and willpower Taylor advanced inevitably, she did not need the girl's surrender, she did not need her to come peacefully, every such notion had long ago disappeared. Surrender was for people who were human beings, not monsters, not psychopaths

The fingers were back on her crystallised hand, and Taylor clenched them into a fist, Bakuda was against the wall now, fumbling, she was shouting something at Taylor but she tuned it out, the words of an insect were nothing.

A flash of steel--

Taylor caught the hand holding the knife before it could stab her in the neck, not even looking away from Bakuda's masked face as she stared unblinkingly, her body had just acted on instinct and caught it. The metal on crystal scraped horribly.

She let it remain there a second, just a second, could feel her grip only getting stronger by the second around the hand of the woman, feeling its warmth moving up her cold, crystalline fingers now she had Ether Drinker her moment of triumph energising her, as she had this... monster quite literally in hand.

Taylor crushed the hand like a grape, feeling bones snap and splinter under her grip as a scream filled the air, as the knife dropped to the ground and she released the mangled hand that had held it.

She punched with all her might, without the form she had been taught just putting as much force behind it as she inhumanly could. Any time for finesse was long over, it was only brute force of will and endurance that had gotten her this far and she put all of into slugging Bakuda's mask, the metal bending under the impact, the glass in the eye shattering as Bakuda's head was smashed against the concrete, as Taylor brought her crystal fist back and brought blow after blow in a frenzy.

After a point the villain collapsed, and Taylor grabbed the front of her outfit with her flesh and blood hand to hoist her into the air.

Bakuda stirred, head rolling atop her shoulders as Taylor stared at the broken mask and the bleeding, ruined half a face she could see underneath.

She looked young.

Bakuda was a monster who had killed people, Taylor had watched a man melt into a puddle of goo before her eyes.

She was barely worth calling human.

Her crystallised hand flattened out, just as it had before as she brought it up and back, eyes fixing on a certain spot.

~~~~~

She could stab it forward. She could kill this person.

Well, this was not killing a person. It was killing a monster, a rabid dog.

And it was fine to kill, anyway.

To destroy and kill was natural, all creatures did it as naturally as breathing, as naturally as having a heart that beat.

It was a strange realisation, but just as strange was her own heart, ignored until now, which hammered in her ears all of a sudden. Her breath, ragged in her chest, had she even been breathing until now or just running on pure willpower and adrenaline? Her heart felt as if it was on fire, as if there was a miniature sun in its place, burning with vitality as if to remind her that yes, she was here in this moment here and now.

She felt alive.

For a strange aeon, Taylor stared at that spot between Bakuda's eyes, arm held back ready to strike even as she listening to the rhythms of her own body, entranced by her own humanity. It was listening, really listening, for the first time in her life, keenly aware that she was here in this moment, this exact moment in time and the universe she was... alive. And so was Bakuda.

Taylor relaxed her hand, letting the crystal drop to her side.

She was going to drag her in, whether it was kicking and screaming or unconscious, Taylor was a Hero who had brought down a Villain threatening her home, her city.

Now she just needed to find a phone.

3.8

The ambush had gone perfectly.

The PRT sweep of the apartment hadn't found the safe rooms cunningly hidden away, and she had made sure to use enough of her after-effect bombs that that bitch who kept ruining her work would have to be brought out.

Honestly, it would be perfect, cause a big ruckus whilst Oni Lee got Lung out of the PRT's oh so tender care, forcing them to split their efforts and attention between their oh-so-precious Wards and stopping the jailbreak. Honestly, it was simple but genius!

And yet, somehow, even as her grenade flew through the air the Ordinant bitch somehow sensed it, Bakuda watched as she grabbed Vista and pushed her behind her, as the explosion from her flesh-melter was stopped just metres away from her and the other Wards.

Fucker!

An anti-shaker power was such bullshit, it was literally everything that was designed to stop her best work from working!

But just because the opening salvo did not work did not mean that something else wouldn't, it might just be a specific form of anti-shaker power, after all. She couldn't be immune to every effect!

So she fired more, her magazine could hold six grenades and she had prepared five different effects to see what might work. It was a shame to throw so much at one person but necessary.

And yet, none of them worked. It was honestly infuriating.

But still, the last grenade in the magazine was special... in that it was not special at all. A perfectly normal, military-grade grenade with no tampering or funny business, and unlike the others the bitch's power had no effect on it. She jumped in front of it though, like a proper goody-goody two shoes, taking the blast and falling to the ground as her legs got fucked up, got broken and shattered and Bakuda resisted the urge to whoop at finally bringing the bitch down a peg.

Still, after reloading she kept up the bombardment, but it seemed that the bitch was not dead or unconscious because in the next magazine all the special grenades were still cancelled, preventing the other Wards and troopers from getting what they deserved. One of them, the big red one, even managed to pull one guy that got affected by the flesh-melter to safety!

And then--

They got away, leaving the anti-shaker.

Well, fuck.

She had hoped to get all of them, to really make a demonstration of her power, to send a message not to fuck with the ABB and her in particular. Well, taking out that anti-shaker was her priority anyway, she was much too much of a threat to her entire modus operandi, there would be consequences of course for killing a Ward but frankly once the ABB had Lung back, she would be a lot safer.

Anyway...

Oh.

The fucking nerve! The Ward was getting up, making some sort of big heroic last stand, pushing herself off the ground when she might as well just stay down and die there. There was a loud series of clinking noises, the Capes helmet was broken, as was the armour on the legs, revealing crystal beneath.

Were they a Case-53? Bakuda narrowed her eyes as the cracked and shattered legs repaired themselves as the Hero stood up shakily.

She almost admired the tenacity, were it not for the fact that the fucking cocksucker had been ruining all her efforts recently. She took aim again, but held back from firing yet.

The cape was a regenerator of some sort, and a damn annoying one at that, and she was still standing despite taking on an explosive.

She fired another grenade, aiming higher.

Bakuda watched in morbid fascination as the girl remained standing, face reeling from the detonation, which she had taken head on like a fucking idiot. Honestly, what sort of person tried to take on a fucking explosion? The girl was a moron.

What remained of the girl's head burst with blue light as she began to fall--

A leg stuck out, stopping, pushing against the tarmac as she slowly straightened back up.

Bakuda blinked as reaching blue tendrils that terminated in hand like fronds extended from the remains of the girl's head like the questing feelers of some deep-sea invertebrate. They swayed and extended, grasping and moving ethereally over one another. In the darkness of the former parking lot, strewn with debris, the light from the tendrils cast an eerie blue glow over everything as the Cape turned its head slowly to focus on her, and Bakuda saw her face for the first time.

Her heart stopped in her chest.

She knew that face.

Half of the girl's face was blown off, but it was healing, the gooey brain matter faintly glowed with bioluminescence as the skull repaired and reformed, bone replaced with metallic, opalescent crystal, which flattened out to form a half-face lacking in features, blank and faintly curved with spikes at the top, like a mask.

"JESUS WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!"

She could not restrain the chain of expletives that escaped her tongue, could not help the automatic step backwards, she loathed loathed loathed the feeling of weakness and surprise that came over her.

Everyone who knew anything knew that face, even if it was just half of it, even if most images were distorted by the radiation and alien conditions, everyone knew the featureless metallic face of the Oort-Spider.

That monstrous half-face only lasted a few seconds, features were growing in, a nose, the other half of the mouth, an eye. The tendrils were receding, changing into hair, and just a few moments later the girl was stood in front of her again, no different from before.

No, not a girl.

A thing, a thing wearing the skin of a human being.

Its eyes both rolled to focus on her, and with its mask blown to smithereens, Bakuda could see fully the absolute inhumanity to the thing in front of her, the utterly dead eyes that focused on her unfettered from notions of humanity.

The thing took a step forward.

It didn't blink, its movements were fundamentally wrong, it was too fluid, too efficient. It was like every step was perfectly calculated to perfectly reduce effort, yet without thought, inevitable and heavy, its crystalline feet met the tarmac and forced themselves into the soft material. Did it even breathe? Did it even think?

She turned and ran, ran back into the apartment building.

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

What the fuck was that thing!? The PRT had a fucking Endbringer on their side? Wait, what if they did not know? What if it had deceived them, deceived the world, or was it something else? An offspring? Some sort of creation using its DNA by some mad Wet Tinker? Her fevered brain was filled with ideas as she desperately tried to rationalise what she had seen; her power was throwing concepts at her.

Clink clink clink clink--

She could hear its footsteps against the concrete, each like the chime of a horrible bell that filled the air with noise, as if to remind Bakuda what she was running from.

Bakuda wheeled around.

She had made some distance; the thing was at the other end of the corridor. It did not run her down, it walked, walked like an advancing wall of doom down the corridor, unblinking, eyes focused on her.

Levelling the launcher, she unloaded on it, everything she had, reloading faster than she ever had before, not taking into consideration what she was firing and how all the effects may interact.

Regular explosives, pain bombs, flesh-melter's, a few of the more exotic items--

The thing did not even stop walking.

It was still staring at her when its left side cracked and shattered, when its every pain receptor was activated, it just took another step, face warping before settling on that same determination.

The more exotic bombs, her experimental ones that would stop time, made it pause for a second, just enough to make her think the effect had worked, before it continued on, casually breaking the laws of physics. It walked past the insects trapped suspended in flight, past the dust motes that were the same way. And then, time resumed, the dust and debris fell to the ground.

Another grenade, this one would convert organic matter into crystal--

The corridor was turned at once into glossy quartz, including the thing.

A breath of relief escaped Bakuda, only for the joy to turn into the beginnings of panic and despair as the thing jerked into movement once more, the quartz receded back to flesh, or the facsimile of it at least.

It didn't even stop in the step it had been taking, like some unstoppable juggernaut that hated her.

No, it did not even hate her.

She had seen the looks of hate, and fear before, abundantly so. Both from normal humans who were revelling in her destructive power, and in Capes determined to stop her.

Whatever this thing was, it didn't care about her, it didn't care about anything that human. There was nothing behind those eyes except intent, purpose. It wanted nothing more than to destroy her, to catch up with her, hunt her down and rip her limb from limb, to do to her what the Spider had done to almost fifty Capes in the span of less than a minute.

She was panicking now, and she hated it, that feeling, that feeling of helplessness, of not being in control. It was just like back in Boston when she first gained her powers. She had been in charge, she still was in charge, this thing was just overly stubborn, it did not have all of the Spiders powers or else she would already be dead, right? It had to have some weakness, there had to be something she could do!

She turned and ran.

Time, she needed time!

Fuck, the plan was to set up the ambush, deal with the bitch and really push the PRT's face into the dirt, make a really big distraction so that Lung could be freed but the situation had gone south fast.

How was she to know that the PRT had a fucking pet Endbringer!

A group of her goons were gathering, they had heard her shouts and the explosions, she had had them posted throughout the building to keep watch in case PRT goons tried to come in from other directions. They each had a bomb in their head, the explosion may not hold it in place for long but she needed time, as much as she could get. Maybe she could get it to lose the trail as well?

"Stop it, buy me some time!" she shouted, wildly gesturing behind her.

The goons all tensed up but nodded reluctantly, they didn't have a fucking choice right now or else she'd blow their goddamn brains out!

She ran on, but her ears heard the sounds, the screams, the shouts and the clang of wood and metal against crystal and flesh.

At the end of the corridor, hidden, was a door downwards that led to the basement. It used to be for making drugs, but she had converted it to her own needs to match the escalating gang war.

She opened it, stepped through partially but paused to listen to the sounds of the fighting. It was six people against one, right? Surely, they could like, break the things bones, or shatter its crystal parts, hold it back a bit. They probably didn't stand a chance at actually killing it but--

An explosion.

One of them was dead.

Another explosion, screaming was filling the air as more bangs resounded through the building, a cacophony of sounds as more and more of the small explosions resounded as Bakuda paused in the doorway, straining her ears to hear.

After the final explosion there was silence, a moment in which she allowed some small mote of hope to blossom in her heart, that it had been taken out by the sheer number of explosions, surely it could not survive being blown to literal chunks--

Clink clink clink clink--

The small hope was crushed, and with renewed energy she took the steps two at a time, slamming the heavily reinforced door to the basement shut behind her.

The lab was not the most comprehensive one that Lung had provided but it was still good enough. It had all she needed, cannisters and all sorts of materials both mundane and dangerous, some dubiously legal and the remaining fraction straight up controlled by half a dozen federal agencies.

Her power was throwing even more concepts at her as she sprinted to the desk, options that she hadn't even conceived of before were flooding into her mind. A bomb that would create a temporary singularity, one that would act as a miniature supernova, or turn everything in a block radius into cheese. It was migraine inducing, dozens of ideas all going toward the singular destruction of her pursuer, and the longer it went on the more total they were becoming.

Fuck fuck fuck--

One idea was completely unhinged, a bomb that would take out the central nervous system of every living being of everything for a one-hundred mile radius.

At this rate the ideas her power was supplying would have her rated as an S-Class threat!

She had no idea what her hands were even doing, she was assembling anything and everything at once in a blur of frenzied, panicked motion that was half Bakuda, half her power directing her, ramming all sorts of materials into cannisters

A bang at the door.

She was making a bomb every few seconds as another bang came from behind her, as the thing announced its presence. That door was sturdy enough to hold back near anyone short of a brute seven, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

The impacts on the door were deafening, the metal practically ringing as it was struck with a force far above human.

Her hands were cramping up, she was pretty sure that she had broken the skin on them with the fiction and lack of care she was working with, but right now her life was on the line.

The sound of metal tearing, screeching, the lock was broken.

She whirled around to see the thing pushing open the door.

Its right arm had been replaced with a spike of crystal, like the forelimb of a praying mantis, like one of the Spider's limbs. Slowly... inexorably, its head turned slowly to focus on her, as if it already knew where she was and looking at her was merely a formality, it did not even pay attention to the rest of the room, only her.

She had everything her power could supply at short notice, and Bakuda turned and unloaded her full payload.

Grenades that exploded, grenades that imploded. Conversion explosions. Explosions that created more explosions. Ones that turned things to ice, another that instantly turned all ice to vapour. EMP. Hemotoxic clouds. Neurotoxic clouds. Oxidising. Ionising. Radiation and heat sufficient to kill a cockroach. Inverting gravity.

At this point it was less about finding the optimal solution than whatever could affect this thing.

The building rocked and shook, it sang with sounds inconceivable to normal ears.

And all along, it just. Kept. Moving.

It was half-crushed into a singularity only for the laws of gravity to be cancelled around it, its body rapidly unfurling again back to how it was like a spider dying in reverse.

Another bomb that evaporated all the water in its body, which caused its eyes to explode outwards in a burst of gore and viscera... and yet it just kept walking as if it could still see her, its body rapidly restoring itself.

Another, its body began turning to dust and collapsing to the floor only for it to continue the next moment as the effect stopped and its flesh returned.

The skin, muscle, and fat of the front of its body was atomised, revealing an entire skeleton of glittering crystal and strange bioluminescence, like some gruesome artistic piece made with meat and opal.

Every step forward was met with two or three separate effects exploding into being around it, it warped and turned. The centre of the cavernous basement transformed into an apocalyptic hellscape of fire and ice and matter and things that simply should not exist in the same space. The laws of physics were turning over themselves, rejected and replaced dozens of times over.

It was within fifteen feet now, the explosive radius for her bombs was too close.

"I surrender I surrender I surrender--" Heroes had to accept surrenders, right?

By now she was screaming anything, everything that might give her a moment more away from that thing, as full panic, as sheer inevitable hopelessness began to overwhelm her.

It should give it a pause for thought!?

It did not care.

Did it even understand English? Did it understand language as a concept?

All the information her power was supplying her implied something that wasn't even supposed to exist, it had no idea how to destroy this thing and was throwing as much shit at the wall as it could, anything to put it down permanently.

Her pleas were ignored as it got closer and closer.

Desperately, she drew her knife and lashed out, trying to sink it into the neck, into the spine, that might stop it for just a moment, right? And then she could flee--

It caught her hand.

It did not look away, even for a moment. Its eyes bored into hers, her mask was useless, it looked right into her soul with those eyes devoid of humanity, they were a dark brown that seemed darker and darker the more she looked, until it was like she was staring into a black hole that sought only to consume her.

The grip was like a vice, like the hand of Lung when he was pissed off, and it was cold, so utterly cold, her hand was going numb, a numbness that was rapidly spreading up her arm.

"You kill me and my deadman switch will release!" she screamed into its face.

It didn't care. She could nuke the entire city; she could kill everyone. It wouldn't care.

"I'll--"

Her hand was crushed, she could feel the bones snapping and splintering like soggy popsicle sticks, and for the first time she screamed in agony.

She was going to die, she was going to die! Her, Bakuda! In that moment she knew what was going to happen, knew the certainty of her fate, dead at the hands of this humanoid abomination in the basement, her genius unrecognised--

It drew its arm back, and not with speed, with a sort of slow, deliberate intention.

It wanted her to know exactly what it was about to do.

The punch was like getting hit by a train, in a fraction of a second she felt the metal of her mask warp and deform, she felt the back of her head explode with pain as it was smashed against the concrete behind her.

Another blow, the glass on the left side of her mask cracked and imploded inwards, not that she could fully appreciate that she would never see again through that eye, nor when the metal of the mask cut into her cheek and jaw, leaving deep, jagged cuts. Blow after blow rained down, each as hard and perfectly placed as the last despite the frenzy the thing was in.

She passed out, but was afforded that luxury for only a few moments as she came back to, to the feeling of a flesh and blood hand crushing her throat as she was held aloft.

Her solitary eye could just about make out the crystal hand being drawn back, flattened like a blade. Her body felt hot, it was like standing out in the sun on a burning summer day, burning her, the heat produced by this thing was burning her alive--

For what felt like an eternity it held her there, as if waiting for her to slowly choke out in its grip, as it stared unblinkingly at her, watching her slowly die rather than just ending it all.

It was breathing again, it stared so unceasingly, she could barely see but somehow, she could still see those two voids that had no regard for her life whatsoever.

What was it doing? Was it watching her die for the sake of it? Did it want her to suffer, or did it not consider her worth the effort of killing more quickly?

Utter despair overcame her in her frantic, oxygen starved state.

Oh god please let this all end, please please--

Just before she blacked out, the thing lowered its hand.

What hell it had planned for her, she could not know as she fell into an unconsciousness filled with utter hopelessness.

3.9

Missy Biron felt awful.

When you were a Cape, you kind of had to accept that you would lose friends and colleagues. With Villains outnumbering Heroes by two to one it was inevitable that one would have to make tough choices, she had known pretty much since day one that she might be put in a situation in which she would have to act like that.

But so far, she had mostly escaped it, and had been able to keep her colleagues safe by virtue of warping space around them, repositioning, giving extra time and space to act as needed.

Until tonight.

The image of Ordinant, legs broken and shattered, laying prone on the ground like a crippled bird kept flashing across her mind, another of Carlos leaping to save the one trooper and all the while her power was useless so long as Ordinant sheltered them from the storm of Bakuda's grenades.

And then--

She could use her power again, because Ordinant stopped her power, giving them a chance and opportunity despite knowing that she would have to be left behind.

And Missy had left her, abandoned her teammate.

Left her to die.

The older girl, Taylor, could be a little odd, and they had all been walking on eggshells around her ever since the amputation debacle and its fallout. Or at least, most of the Wards who were not abrasive bitches. Her, Carlos, and Dean normally would not be deployed together like tonight and yet they had been, if only to keep an eye on the newest Ward and make sure that she was safe.

At one point, Missy had been worried enough that she had not gone to sleep that night upon noticing Taylor's room had its door open and its owner not in her bed. She had wondered, morbidly, whether she would find her dead somewhere, having snapped and taken her life.

But instead, Missy had ended up staring at the sky with the older Ward telling her so many things about the stars that she could not possibly remember it all; the names, what sort of star they were, and numbers and statistics too huge to really understand. She had traced invisible lines between the black void between them, stars, Ordinant leaning close to be able to use perspective better to indicate exactly where she was pointing.

She had gotten to know Ordinant, Taylor, better in a few hours spent atop the roof than in the weeks leading up to it.

She hadn't felt so utterly normal for quite a long time.

No powers or anything, no Cape bullshit or expectations placed on her. Just two people stargazing and having fun.

Although it did give her even more questions than she already had about the girl. Missy had tried to investigate the crystallisation after learning that their new teammate was a sufferer. Whilst information was quite scarce; there were only so many sufferers after all, there had been a few common themes.

The slow, creeping crystallisation, eventual paralysis, and crippling astrophobia.

She had not thought to ask Taylor about it, but the other girl loved the stars in a way that rather went against that theme.

Then again... the girl seemed less and less normal with each interaction, or perhaps it was simply a case of Ordinant becoming less and less guarded with time, feeling more free to be herself?

... In the end though, it had been Ordinant who protected them tonight, when it should have been the other way around.

It was fair to say that the night had been one of mixed blessings, she thought as she watched the chaos around her.

The air within the PRT Headquarters was filled with the thrum of activity from troopers stomping about and experts who had been brought in on the fly to deal with the fallout of the attack. The fact that Lung had escaped was a blackeye to the PRT, but the capture of Bakuda would make up for that.

A good section of the building had been compromised, and even if it was built like a fortress, bombs were still bombs even without the tinkertech element.

Missy felt wide awake even though she should be exhausted.

It was hard to take a moment to rest, and let her mind catch up with everything that had happened.

... She had seen a man melt before her very eyes tonight, she was not thinking about it much, it had all happened so fast, but she knew for sure that she would be skipping school tomorrow.

Even now the three Wards who escaped the attack were waiting in the hall of the medical ward, waiting to hear about their junior. Several times somebody had tried to bundle them off, but they were all more than stubborn enough and those who were really in charge were focusing on bigger things.

Down the hall there was a conversation going on.

One of the medical professionals, one who just minutes ago had been directing Panacea around. The New Wave member had been about just a short while ago, sending the three of them a look but then tersely nodding as she was escorted into Ordinant's room, only to emerge a minute or two later to be escorted to another.

And now, the doctor was speaking with somebody over the phone.

...

The thing about Missy's power was that people often did not notice what she was doing with it.

She bit her lower lip. There was nobody in the way, the Manton limit would not take effect, so to cut that distance to listen in...

She did it. It was wrong of her, really, but this was a teammate of hers, and really, would anybody even find out? Glancing to Dean and Carlos, she found no complaints when suddenly the doctor's voice was right next to them.

The doctor's voice was louder than whom he was speaking to, Director Piggot.

"--condition?"

"She's just been seen by Panacea, but it seems that she has become immune to her power after their first interaction, so she couldn't provide any information on Ordinant, but my own checks found no injuries at all, and no indications of radiation sickness."

Radiation sickness!?

"I see. And her mental state?"

"Not sure, frankly. She appears to be holding up remarkably well but that could simply be the after effects of the adrenaline and shock, I would advise the presence of family once those both wear off."

"Of course."

Trust Piggot to be so matter of fact about it! Vista looked up at Dean, and whilst she could not see his face, his body language was certainly not relaxed.

Next came a flurry of medical terms, and information that the three of them probably should not know about their teammate. She dropped her power, allowing details to slip them both by and resuming the eavesdropping just a half minute later.

"--akuda?"

There was a pause.

The Doctor reached up to rub at the corners of his eyes and breathed heavily. It was the sigh of somebody wondering how to deliver terrible news, it was the same sigh that her father had when he explained to her what was going on between him and her mother.

"Being seen by Panacea now, but without several levels of medical intervention there will be nothing we can do. She has sustained severe head trauma on a level that I would normally see in people who have suffered a multi-car pileup, to be frank the chance of brain damage is high. And she has been exposed to a fatal dose of radiation and is somewhat radioactive herself."

"How bad is it?"

"I don't know what the units mean frankly, ma'am, but we have an estimate that both have been exposed to several times a lethal dose of radiation"

"I'll take over from here, thank you doctor," a new voice on the call, another man, evidently a multi-person call. The new voice was an unknown, certainly Vista did not recognise it and a brief glance to the other two indicated that they did not either, although she could only see their masks and body posture to go by. "Bakuda has suffered twice a lethal dose of radiation and three hundred times that allowed by nuclear power plant workers, without Parahuman medical techniques she is certain to die within a month. She will soon begin liquifying from the inside due to her DNA being destroyed, it is frankly miraculous that she only started vomiting and weeping blood when you secured her."

Vista struggled to even understand what she was hearing, this discussion over radiation was... she had expected bombs, descriptions of bomb injuries not levels of radiation sufficient to kill cockroaches and make humans melt! Like... she hated Bakuda, a lot of them did, it was hard not to detest somebody who had been blowing up the city you lived in, who had killed civilians and perfectly innocent people but the notion of somebody melting from the inside.

There was dead silence after the expert finished his description.

"Fucking hell..."

Vista had to drop her power within a second of Carlos beginning to speak, looking to him sharply, and then she brought it up after bringing a finger to her lips.

"Panacea cannot stop it?"

"Unless Panacea has reference for her DNA from before the exposure then it may be impossible, especially Bakuda's brain tissue. As for Ordinant, just being in her presence for too long is a danger to life, until such time as we can find a way to remove whatever contamination has clung to her."

The man's grim prognosis certainly brought a certain grim reality to proceedings, even more than before.

"But there are a number of Capes that might be able to help with the latter problem, the best option is a Japanese Cape called Seiichi, whose power drains nearby and ambient radiation to empower himself, but within the United States options are more limited. Seattle and Houston have Capes who could help however, I have forwarded their details to you director. I would recommend that they be brought in as soon as possible."

"I see, and what do you believe are Bakuda's chances of survival with Parahuman assistance?"

"Around eighty percent, depending on if Bakuda's brain tissue can also be healed, although I believe Panacea is unable to affect brains? If not, then even if the rest of her can be healed then barring some other form of healing, zero."

What the hell happened in there, Vista wondered. Some sort of dirty bomb?

"And Ordinant?"

The Director seemed more keen to know about Ordinant now, the matter of Bakuda's survival left by the wayside.

"As I said, she's shown no signs of radiation sickness so far, Director. Not even the most basic, were it not for the circumstances I would discharge her with a complete bill of health. As it is we are keeping her in because of her own radioactivity, and any guest visits should be limited like Bakuda's until she can be either saved or determined that there is nothing that can be done."

"Well, that is one bit of good news at least."

The conversation remained grim from there, although short, with a promise to maintain frequent updates. And then it ended, the Doctor sighing and making some mention of needing a cigarette but not moving from his position.

Once again, she dropped her power, looking to the other two.

Dean nodded briskly.

"C'mon."

They began to walk forward, approaching the man who they had just been eavesdropping on. At the sound of their suit's boots and shoes against the floor he glanced to the side, sharply, taken by surprise, and then.

"You three--"

"Is Ordinant okay!?" she blurted out.

"Ordinant is fine, but has to stay in for observation. She has been exposed to dangerous levels of radiation," he explained, pulling no punches.

"Can we see her, sir?" Carlos asked, well, in truth it was less a request than a demand judging by his tone of voice. The man looked between them,

"You are all her teammates, right?"

"Yes sir, we had to retreat without her and we want to see her to make sure she is alright." This time it was Dean, who spoke with that clear voice that worked so well with the public for his knight persona.

The doctor wavered, she could see the way he paused. Vista had to wonder if it was even the correct protocol, likely it was next of kin who should see her first but fuck it, they had each thought they were leaving her for dead.

"She's been through a lot lately," Dean added, just a few words to tip the man over the edge.

"The most I can give you is ten minutes, and then you have to leave her to get some rest" he said, sternly. "Preferably less than that, and if I tell you to leave then you do so at once, is that understood? No complaints, even if you are Capes."

"Yes sir."

"Understood."

They all nodded, and after a moment they were led to their teammates room, and after a knock at the door and request to come in, they entered.

Ordinant sat up in the room's solitary bed, hands in her lap. She had changed out of her outfit and into a hospital gown, although she had a half-mask on for privacy and to keep her identity safe it was clearly still their teammate. The glittering crystal arm resting on her lap could not be replicated easily, after all. For a moment upon their entry, she was utterly still, such that Missy almost wondered whether she was asleep after the day's exertion.

Then, as if to prove her wrong, Ordinant's head slowly turned to face them.

"Oh. Hi, guys."

It was such a fantastically mundane greeting, as if they had just walked into her bedroom to wake her from a nap rather than a hospital visit.

"Hey... how are you doing?" Easily the lamest possible thing that Missy could have said, to ask that when the girl had been through so much tonight, and yet it was the only thing that she could think to say. She promptly internally berated herself as they all stepped forward.

Well, two of them did, it took her a moment to realise that Dean had remained rooted to the spot in the doorway.

"..."

"Gallant?"

"Y-Yeah, good to see you are alright, Ordinant." There was a pause between the alright and her name that made Vista frown. If Taylor took notice of it, then the other girl gave no indication. She did not even blink.

She was looking at Dean intently, but then again, she was always a little intense, right?

It was hard to describe at times, the way the anti-shaker focused on people sometimes. It made Vista wonder whether they were being dissected, piece by piece, like Ordinant was peeling back the layer of skin, fat, muscle, and organ to see right through them. Sometimes the other girls' observations about things seemed to come out of nowhere, leaps of logic that were less jumps than crossing mental canyons… but then the next moment she would rub her arm awkwardly and say something about getting pizza, or to discuss duties for the day and it would be like she was a completely different person.

Sometimes, it made Vista wonder if she had some manner of Thinker power.

Ah, but now was not the time.

Right now, Ordinant looked at Dean and Carlos in that unnerving manner.

The shock, right?

She was still in fight or flight mode.

But when Ordinant turned that same gaze on her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was more intense than before, it was like she, Missy Byron, was being weighed up and pulled apart, it was almost like an ominous weight pushing down on her. And those eyes were dark, a very dark brown that seemed to just get darker and darker the more you looked--

"I am glad to see that you all got away safely," her voice was relieved, and a little soft.

All at once, she was back to normal, that intense weight pressing down on Missy was gone, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Thanks to you, Ordinant, like..." Carlos paused, evidently trying to think of what to say. How did you express your thanks that somebody was willing to leave themselves crippled and certain to die, just so that you had a chance to escape? "... just thanks, and sorry, we left you behind..."

A pause.

"... It's fine, I wanted you to go, no point all of us dying, right?" she said, as if to console Carlos.

So matter of fact! Carlos practically flinched, and even if his armour did not allow for the full breadth of emotions Vista could see the way he reeled at that comment, and evidently Ordinant took notice of that, as she quickly changed the subject.

"Did you manage to get that trooper away alright?"

"Yeah, he's being seen to, don't know if he'll be okay."

A hum, Ordinant looked away a moment.

"... I wish I could have saved the other two, if I had just been a bit quicker, they might have been fine, but there's nothing that can be done now," the bitterness was evident, and Vista noticed the way her fists clenched the bedsheets on her lap. "... But I got the bitch in the end, I hope that she gets Birdcaged and can never get out."

"I have no doubt that she'll be suffering the consequences of her actions for a long time," perhaps it was childish and petty of her to say that, considering that she had just overheard from the Doctor's call, but frankly, Vista could give a fuck. Even if it would be a horrible death, she would not wish on anybody else, she cared far more for Ordinant than she did for some psychopathic bomber.

"... If nothing else, it's a hell of a first public action, I mean, beyond your patrols and such."

"Huh?" Ordinant spoke, blinking.

"I mean, once the press statement goes out that Bakuda was captured. It depends a bit on if they mention you as the one to do it, I guess. They might not for your own safety and give credit to 'a team of Protectorate Capes' of course, to avoid retaliation," Carlos added.

"... I suppose so," it sounded as if she had only just considered it, and just a little mystified. Yet the very corners of her lips twitched upwards in a small smile.

For a few moments she sat, thinking, during which time Missy briefly glanced at the others. Carlos was leaning forward and right beside her, but Dean had remained standing back by a pace or two, and seemed to be actively leaning back just a little. She gestured for him to come closer impatiently.

What was up with him?

"... You guys okay to help me practice for any press statements and such? I mean, you guys have done them more than me," Taylor asked.

"Of course!"

They only had a little more time left before they were ordered out, and the doctor was quite clear about that, leaving no room for negotiation. Still, with what they all knew, they did so swiftly enough with goodbyes and promises to come back to see her, Missy rather suspected that Taylor might get some flowers and grapes if she was kept in there long enough. Dean led the way out, walking ahead swiftly and seemed almost relieved to be out of the room.

It was not until they were safely within Ward quarters however, and masks were off, that any of them spoke

"What's up with you, Dean? You barely said anything at all," Carlos asked, cutting her off as she made to do the same. Dean removed his helmet to reveal a face pale and sweaty, but not the faint sheen of dried sweet after the exertions earlier, but droplets that had been generated in just the last few minutes.

What on Earth? He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and... was that a tremble to his hand as he pushed it through his hair?

"... Nothing, sorry, just... thinking about everything that happened," he excused.

He was lying, she could tell.

"...I need to go and speak with somebody..." Dean sounded conflicted as he pushed on his helmet and, without another word, left the room half-walking half-running, leaving Carlos and Missy behind.

4.1

Taylor should feel tired.

But she didn't.

It was probably adrenaline and stress, a detached part of her mind said, the combination of both was something that she had gotten rather used to in the last few weeks. That should probably create a lot of red flags in her head, but sitting here in the hospital bed, the scratchy blanket rubbing against her palms, she found it rather hard to care.

She had saved the city.

Well, that might be a bit grand of her to think; Bakuda was a threat to many lives and had caused all manner of tragedies, pain, and suffering... Just earlier that night she had seen two men's bodies break down and liquify, two people who had lives and families, but she was not a threat to the entire city, right?

But either way, she had done it.

Taylor felt so much more awake and alive right now, it was just like that heady feeling after she broke her first Gray Boy loop, that feeling of tentative hope and joy at being useful, at helping others and surviving another hurdle. So long as she was valuable. So long as she was helping.

... It had also felt good to beat the ever-loving shit out of Bakuda, to hold the woman by the throat and make her pay just some small fraction of what she deserved, to feel bone and metal, tooth and glass break.

She had never thought of herself as a violent person, but she was being thrown more and more into violent situations.

When her three fellow Wards came in, she was glad to see them, even if Gallant was acting weird. But he was a weird guy, he often stared at her for long periods of time, and she would end up staring right back. But that was just Gallant being Gallant, that was what he was like, just one oddity in a species that was so very homogenous yet variable. For somebody who supposedly saw emotions and auras of people, he really was not good at speaking with them at all.

A deficiency.

A weakness he should improve upon.

But still, she had done her best to console them about it all. It was not their fault that they had had to leave her, hell that was what she had wanted them to do, she could hardly be bitter about it, and their offers to help coach her for any possible interview was kind of them.

When they had to leave, she waved them off serenely.

Her next visitor was less restrained.

"Taylor!"

Her father crossed the room in just four strides, and within a moment she was being crushed by him. She hugged him back; he smelled like home.

And yet, just as swiftly, he was being pulled away by the doctor with an admonishment of some sort. One that he did not recieve well, but begrudgingly, turning back to her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine dad," she assured him. He looked haggard, he had had a long day at the Union the day before and here he was at three in the morning to see her, she had to wonder whether he dreaded the house phone ringing whilst she was away, now, expecting bad news. "My power let me protect everyone and bring in Bakuda, and I'm completely fine!"

"They were talking about explosions and radiation, Taylor."

"I'm fine! I mean, look at me dad," she consoled, and pushed herself a bit further out of the bed in an effort to reassure him. Hell, the only reason she was in the bed in the first place was at the insistence of the doctors, she would have been much happier on a chair, or a nice comfortable sofa.

"I don't like you being put in this level of danger Taylor, I really don't, why can't they have you doing less dangerous things!"

He sounded angry, and he had already raged at the PRT just a short while ago after the loop breaking incident.

"It was not supposed to be dangerous, we got ambushed," she said. Her matter-of-fact delivery really did not help, and she winced at it as her father paused a moment, the anger almost boiling over before, with an obvious effort, he restrained it and let out a rattling breath.

"All that matters is that you are safe," he said, taking a heavy seat in the chair that Carlos had been sat in earlier, leaning his chin on his clasped hands, elbows on his knees and all at once, he looked so much older, so much more tired and exhausted than she remembered. The air was heavy between them, and the detached serenity of her mood started to fade away, the cold, the slightly off tick of the clock above the door became like a booming drum echoing, as if to punctuate just how difficult it was to speak.

"Hey, dad."

"Yes, Taylor?"

"I love you, thanks for coming," she smiled, unable to help it.

She would struggle to describe the expression on her father's face.

For a few minutes longer they spoke, most of which were her assuring him that yes, she was alright, that she was okay. And yet, just as soon as they had started--

"I am afraid you will need to leave now Mr. Hebert, until Ordinant's radioactivity decreases it is simply too dangerous for you to be around for longer."

Radioactivity? Blinking, Taylor glanced over to the doctor. She had heard it mentioned before, but she had not been really paying it much attention.

"I am not radioactive."

That rather interrupted her fathers inevitable retort, as both focused on her.

"I am afraid you are; we did mention it earlier when we brought you in."

Oh, she was distracted at the time replaying the events of the night over and over again in her head, she had not really listened to the doctor, she had suffered far worse injuries tonight without issue, what was something so insignificant as a small bit of radiation at this point?

"Anyway, as I was saying you have to leave now sir."

She really wanted him to stay. It was the first thought that had really broken through that serene haze, the first real bit of worry. Even the considerations of the publicity for what she had done had not compromised her mood, but the idea of her father being taken away did? She wanted him here, it almost took her a moment to register the strange feeling and emotion.

... It was odd. Of course, she would want her father here.

"Check again."

"Ordinant, we already established your radio--"

"Check again."

She was not normally one to order people about, it took her a little by surprise.

Dutifully, although with an air of resignation, the technician did so, and then checked the results again... and again. When he left the room to consult with somebody, she waited patiently, staring at the door. She could hear him talking, presumably on a phone;

".. Sir, the levels are dropping, wait, they are gone entirely? The background rate is above average but..."

For several minutes there was quite a fuss, during which time Taylor was ignored. More people came, technicians who had looked over her before, the grey-haired doctor who had brought in Panacea, only for her to swiftly say that she had 'no ability to see what was going on' with her power. The clicking of Geiger counters filled the air, fast, slow then before, less frantic. Dozens of times a probe was pointed her way,

Well.

"My power must have adapted to it," she said nonchalantly. Honestly, they were just wasting time now. "Can you bring my dad back in now?"

~~~~~

"--And then I began dragging her to the door, where Sergeant McKingly found me," she finished succinctly.

Silence.

It had been a day since she was discharged, and alongside her fellow three Wards she had been given a day off school. Superficially, they were all ill from an outbreak of flu, in truth, they were helping to explain the drama of the day before, and for the last hour she had been comprehensively grilled for information, in far greater detail then the brief report she had given the night before. Missy and Dean had gone before her, Carlos was waiting back in the Ward's quarters for his own interrogation.

The trio of the Director, Armsmaster and Miss Militia were all staring at her.

She might have glossed over and forgotten a few details in the time since the night, stress did that to a person, and she could swear that there were a few important things that she was missing...

"Well, firstly I have to commend you and your determination to bring Bakuda in, Ordinant," Piggot began. "And the trooper you saved, Private Lowe, is expected to make a full recovery, your actions saved the lives of him and your fellow Wards which the PRT cannot thank you enough for," she felt pride blossom in her chest. "Although I do have a few things I would like to admonish you for in terms of the risk you put yourself in... what's done is done, but please be aware that you are by no means invincible, it is easy for Brutes like yourself to grow over confident in your abilities only to bite off much more than you can chew."

She nodded along.

"We do have further questions about the injuries you inflicted on Bakuda, however, we have some concerns that you may not know your own strength."

"I have been at the punching bag quite a bit recently, Director, and a solid rock arm hits hard, I guess."

"Bakuda may never recover from the brain injuries."

"... I am not going to feel bad about it, Director," she said. "Honestly, she deserved it for hurting so many people, I hope that she never recovers and can be Birdcaged or locked away somewhere she can never hurt somebody again." On the tip of her tongue was another admission, about her temptation to end it all right there.

Admitting it was easy, and that was strange. She was a good person, she was a hero.

But the idea of killing the mad Tinker was much easier to consider than killing a normal person, it was as if her brain had put her into the same category as venomous spiders, something that she could slap a slipper down upon and kill without feeling bad about it at all. Humans are fundamentally good at putting things into categories, it is how they understood the world, in terms of comparison to previous experiences, the good, the bad.

Bakuda just fell into a category that she would not place a human being.

"But... I was kind of not thinking straight throughout it all, I just wanted to get to Bakuda and beat the hell out of her, so yeah... I probably hurt her a lot more than needed, but I would do it again if in the same shoes," she admitted.

"... I cannot condone the attitude, but it is not unusual." Taylor nodded, unsure.

Of all the responses so far, that was the one that made her pause for a moment as she looked at the Director. It was hard to remember at times that she was a survivor of a horrible situation. When she first joined, Taylor had tried to learn as much as she could about pretty much everyone in the Brockton Bay PRT and Protectorate, and even if it was years ago... Director Piggot's achievements were nothing to sniff at.

But still.

"There is also the matter of the PR after this," the Director moved on.

"I would like the credit for bringing her in," she said quickly, earning a frown from the elder woman for her interjection. "Sorry for interrupting, ma'am."

"Please do not make a habit of it."

That would also not be a good idea, Ordinant," Miss Militia interjected. "If we did that then a target would be painted on your back, Oni Lee and Lung are both at large and will not be pleased to have lost Bakuda."

"So what, you would like to attribute the capture to somebody else, then?" she inquired.

"Yes, "

"No. I want my name to be included, because I did it," she replied. "Let me have my achievement, the Gray Boy loops are already being hidden away, at least put my name on the list of people who contributed to bringing Bakuda in, hell give the credit to McKingly and his men, he is the one who physically brought her in, after all."

"The PRT does not typically credit troopers in that way, Ordinant, normally it is Heroes--"

"Because the PR is better for a Hero to get the credit?" she asked, curiously.

The silence that followed was deafening, and yet she asked it perfectly curiously.

"Because Heroes can better protect themselves, Ordinant," Armsmaster corrected her in a stern tone of voice. "Attributing the Bakuda's capture to Miss Militia, Dauntless or myself is a much safer option, and your father is keen for you to be protected to the best of our abilities."

"I am more durable than any of those suggestions."

"Ordinant, you cannot ask and expect the PRT to put you in harm's way like that."

There was so much she wanted to say that she physically struggled for a moment, physically biting the very tip of her tongue.

"... You already have."

"Ordinant, that is out of line,"

She stared back at Armsmasmter.

The three of them should be intimidating, with their frowns, it was like the three of them were trying to physically impose the significance of their situation through their eyes and body language. But that was not important, she had seen and experienced far worse, the three of them were not even a grain of sand compared to meeting the gaze of the Spider.

"Your attitude has been growing worse in recent weeks, and whilst I can appreciate the reasons why, that is not how you speak to superiors, Ordinant."

"... Apologies, ma'am."

They were superiors in terms of the organisation, but surely, they could objectively see that she was more durable than her three superiors in the Protectorate? Surely... wait.

Taylor shook her head, reaching up to massage her temple. Her thoughts were all scrambled; why was she attempting to invite danger to her? She was not a glory hound, well, a little glory would be nice, but to the point of being threatened or openly attacked?

This wasn't her, not Taylor Hebert the survivor.

...But at the same time...

She had hidden away from reality for a long time, she had been thinking about it for awhile, about the desire to be a well known her before the inevitable.

And she was stronger now, better than the Taylor of before. Her ability to respond to danger, her instincts, her body was honed and adapted for this purpose by her power, she had gotten better with it all. The training, the experiences, even her mindset, she was a real Hero, and not some silly girl who had not even realised she had a power for years. She might as well do all she could in the time she had, rather than continue to hide away, right?

"...I still want some credit."

The Director breathed heavily out of her nose in what may have been a sigh of exasperation, and changed the subject.

"We shall work that out later," she reached for a piece of paper and pursed her lips at it. "You have given the power testing team another headache, we wanted to review your power with you."

"What about it?"

"It has been misidentified, and you need to know about it and its repercussions. The team believes you have a highly adaptable form of Brute power that is adapting to threats to you, hence the rapid escalation in your regenerative and power immunity in the time that you have been with us, the more you have been hurt the faster you have healed, your ability to shrug off Parahuman powers has grown as well, all whilst holding back the Oort-Spider's crystal, and now you have endured the effects of multiple bomb varieties as well."

That all sounded familiar, in a way.

"... You are making me sound like Crawler," she complained.

"It is an unfortunate comparison, but an apt one. Although you are not mutating and adapting biologically, something that is probably a blessing."

Well, that was a positive... but this all also implied...

Taylor swallowed thickly, finally looking away from her three superiors.

If she was to throw herself at every threat now, would she maximise her own powers ability to be useful? She really did not like that train of thought, it was a dangerous one, yet it sprung to mind as soon as the Director said it. Would her power scale up and adapt to the crystal better if she was hurt more, if she was exposed to more powers, this knowledge was such a slippery slope... she would much rather have not known it, actually.

"I see, um, thank you, Director."

The meeting lasted only a few minutes longer, much to her relief.

~~~~~

P̖̪̻̬̔ͭͦ̋̅͐ḽ͔̄͌̌͗͐a̤̙̱̣̝̙̎̾̑ͤn̜̲̝̬̰̣͐̑e͖̟̺͐̄͆ͯͧ̒ͅt̠͔͔̫̘̾̀ͪͧa̩͋ͦr̰̯̹̋y̮͔͖̖ͫͣ̾̊ͥ̾ ̗̘ͯ̚c͓̍̐̽ͭ͒͗o̻͍͊̄͋̚ͅn̪͈͗̋ͨ́̅ͅs̤̣̮̐c̤̉ͥ͑͆͛͒i̻̖͓̪͕̳͛̅̄o̫̟̙ͥ͗ͣu̥̮ͥs̪̅ṋ̀̔͌̒ͪͅê͉̭͉̥͎̫͛̉̒ͪs̭͍͇̭̘̏́́ͥș͈̖ͨ̓̑e͈̬̮̪͍̅̒̃ͥ͑̇s̱͓̦ͥ̌ͣ ͈ͭͫo̝͓ͪb̳͔̅̂̍̓ͥj̗̣̗̙̱̋e̖̤̲̹̪͆͂̌̉̀ͨc̳͋t̻̮̫͓͇̙̊ͬ͐i̮̠̠̣͊̿̈͊ͮo͆̓̅ͤͫͅn̬̙͓͛ͯͩ̊s͓̙̠̪̹̈ ̱̖ͮ͆ͮ̿ř̟̱̙̥͚͔̎͊ͥͭě͚̃̓̇̊̚g͚͉̗̥̖̓͑̅̏͌̌a̙͉̪̽̓r̦̖͙̅͊͆̔́d̠̼̭͇̦̖͂̍ͮ͑̚i͇̅ͣn͎̮͔̅̔ͧg̫̳͎͈̥̟ͬ͋ ̙̒̿ͣd̤̞͉̓ͮ̈́̂e̲̰͗͐̊̓ͤs̜̲̪̝̝͎̐͒t̖̞͎͙͛ͥr̯̙̫̦ͧͦ͗̇̃u͉͚͛c̫̪̆ͧť̳̂̾̐ͤ̓ḯ̙̪v̳̝̙̩̾̃e̫̜̲̹̖̹͂̑ ͇͕̟̐̒͋ͅp̯̯̳̮͒o͇̲͈̬̞͆͗̿̋̎ͥt̹͋̓͛ͫe̹̗̬ͪͭͭ̿̽ͅn̗̬̳̦̳̽ͦ͛ͨͣt̰̜̮̜̫̬ͧ̊ͭ̄i̲̝̮̥̮͖̓͒̍̉̍a͖̳̜̫͖̬̽̔̍ͭl̪͐ͩ́ͮ;̜̱͓͓̲̈͒̓ͬ̔ ͖̣͎͇͎̽ͬr͎͓̜͌e͉̬ͦj̩̬̪̻̭̆ͧ̌e̺͈͚͒̒c̘̟̠̫̆͋t͔̦̹͆̎ͪͣe̱̭̤͊ͨͭd̮̐̍̃̉̐ͤ)̦ͬͣ̑ͤ

P̩̼̌̚l͎̝̯͂ͣ͋̓a͍̝̐̒̇n̹̓ͭ̒e̦͕̳̥̅̎̓̋̑t̥̹̉̊̊ͬͧa̼͓͚̹̫͂ͦ͋͗̚r̻͑ͭÿ̱̦̹̳͖́ ͈̘̆̎c̙̗̯̖̹̍͐o̱̿̐̚n͈͖̠̂̽ș͚͎͔͔͗c̟̙͒̾i̟̺͇ͥ̽ͬȯ̝̪̣̆̇͆̎u͍̖̱͕̹͌s̗̼͉̰ͩ͊̿n͍̂ͩe͖͇̫̲̎̈̏s̤͚̈́ͣͨͬ͗s̬̈̌͂̆̄e͇͖̫ͯ͐s͕̙̭͓͈͗ ̙̖͙̄c̭̏̽ͧ̽o̟͎̭ͯ͐͌͒ň̟̤̘̭͉͗c̤ͦḛ̗̜̓͂ͮr͖͉̤͚̫̋̉ͪn͔̖͐s͉̘ͦ̇͂ ̖̉̍r̰͈͍̹̱ͤ̊̅e͚ͥͥ̄g͉̳̣̓ͬa̳̳ͯr͚̃̊͆ͣͅḏ̤̣̥̘͌̐̔ì͙̝n̺͍̦̖̈́̊͆̚g̦̘̑͗̌̈́ ͉̑ͣ̽̓ͭ'͎̟̣̝̿ͤͅH̠̞ͣ̊̒u͚̠ͥ̅̈̐m͓̟̭̪̝̿a͚̝͓̯ͩ͒n̙̥̟̒ ͔ͧ̔͑ͤm̟̄ͥ͛ͮo̬̗ͧ̇ͭ̓͋r̜̝̘͕ͨͧ̂͛ͬa̠̫̬͙̥͗͋̎ͩͭl̲̳̓̚ǐ̥t̝͈͖ͯy͙̳͈ͯ̇͒̈̂ ̮͉̥͖̏ͫf̯̣̥ͭͅr̜̻̍a̘̗ͪ̓̓m͙̠̯͗ͅê̩͈̎͐̒̈́ͅw͓̖̯̦͊ͥ̄̋ͧo̜̦̖̬̅̆ͧr̥͋k͉̳̙̊̏ͯͥ'̥̘͉̽̊ͅ;̥̱̄ ̣͕́ȓ̺͖̙͒̎̚e͎̗̾͌̄j̬̔ͧe̩̪̝͛̚č̲͉̱̭̻͋̓͌t͕͎̤͒̊ͣȅ͎̭̍ͧͫͅḓͣ̓͛͑ͅ

P͖ͯ̏l͓͔̲̩̥͒a̜̐̑ͦ̒̀n̦͚̟̲ͬ͂ͥ̀͋e̗͑͑͛t̫̫̭̱̍̽͆a͈̜͓̲̪̍̌r̯͈̫͓͛ͮ̑y͙̲̒̉ͤ̑̐ͅ ̦̞̣͂͂ͅͅc̬̋͗͗̊̀o͈̺̫̜͋n̂̓͒͒ͅs͉̘̆̈c̳̤̰̈͐̚ĩ̯͐ͭo̦̰̥ͯͩ̾͑u̘̘̲͗͐̍s͉͎̃ͣͨ̂ñ̯̪͌ͧ̓̎e̬̮ͮͤ̚̚s̺̅s̮͖̹̓ͨ͑͑ͬ ͍͓̱͎̺ͭͦ̒c̤̮͚̥̦ͣͤ̐ͦo̙̠ͤͅn̰̦̳͗̎ͥ͑c̘͕̠̗̥̔ͩ͛́̚e͚̪̍ȑ̯̲̳̖ͫͬn͉͇̂s̤͚ͦ̽͗͑ͣ ̺̙͓͔͉̅̑r̜̺̦̖̀͗̃ě̤̞̙̚g̪̠̙ͪͮ̽̌͛a͍̱͑̑͌̓r̯̝̺͆͊͌d̻͇ͫ́i̹̙̟͛̀n͈̏͋̉̌g͈̖̜ͫ͋ͮ ̤̬͚̣͖͋͐̑ͪD̘̲̃̿ͮ̋ȓ̠͖ó̝̜͆̒ͫn͙̠̠͓͂͑̑͆̏e͖̺͇͍ͭ ̹̱͕͔̑͑̋ͯ̚s̠̼̙̪͙͊̈́̆͑̅t̯͇̲̫ͭͥͯ̒a͔̩̥̝̓͆̒͐t̝͓̣̭̠̐u̮̞̦̬̦͐́̈́sͦ̇̍ͬ͆ͅ ̝̖̦ͣ̿̍a͇̩͈̭̒ͦs̯̦̦̬̔̈ ̲̠̼̩̍͛̽ͯ͛ͅ'̠̪͓͔ͪͬḦ̲́̐ͩu͖͗͂̎̅m̝͚̩͖̩͒̈́ͤ̚ḁ̮͙̌̄ͫͅṇ̥̪̃'͖̭̫̮͗̊̓ͬͩ;̖̪̇̈́̈̇̇ ̠͇̖͖ͥ̎ͮṛ̝̎̒̅̆̍e͓̘̳͊͌ͪͅj͓̍ͥ̀ė͉̹͖͒̀ͫc̞̹̥̞͉̒̑t͈̮̻̽͌ͧ̚̚ͅe̞͌͊̏͐ḏ̙͍̈́̔̎)̺ͥ̓ͧͣ

C͈̻ͩ͌̎o͓͍͑m̫ͯ̉ͨͅm̱̗̔́͐u̺͒ͨn̘̟̄̏i̬͙̓̆c̖͖̺ͫͦ͗ͦ̊ͤã̰͓̰̀t̜͙̭̮͒̑ͦ͑ͧi̟̊ͣ͑̃͆ͣn̳̦̪͉̈g̟̳͙̼ͧ͆ͮ̆̅ ̲ͫͥ̆̀͛̅d̤ͩͦͧ̑ͯ͆e̦͔͎̍̊ͥ͒̊s͍̋i̫̯̝ͯr͚̺͎̠ͬͯ̎̂̓̽e͈͚̔ͧͯ͊d̻̝̘̙̥ͯ ̣̏f̲̜̠͂̆̐ͮ̿̀i̪̥̳̐ͅn̺͌a̞͖̜̟ͧ̓ͫ̑͑̈l̹̹̖̗̰ͦ̏͂ ͚̗ͯ̿ͅD̗̒̊͋̄r͖̟ͩ̾̒̔ͅo̻͐̑͐n̩͚͕̱͊͌̓e͙̺̜̣̺̣͑ ͚̬͕̫͕ͮf̻̖͕̣ͤͩr̼̗̙̃ã͔̝̪̜ͫͦ̎͂m̱͓̺̦̣̊͋͐́ͤͥe̙̣͛ͯ ̥̄̿̏̌ͧ̓t̗͖ͦ̍͂̌͋ŏ͚̓ ͍ͨ̊ͣͥd̙̜͖̜̱ͦṙ̬̤̰̼̺͑ͦͅo̺͍̟ͭͬͩͩ̌͒n̬͙̈́ͨe̻ͭ̉ͪͧ ͖͇̹̙̉̓͌ͪͨc͕̞̾̓ȍ͍̙̭̭̐n͙͓̹̦͕̳ͥ͂̉v̲̥̭͙̩̝̅ͥ̂̾ͤ͂e̦̾́͑r̻͓̰ͧ͗͑͐ͭ̚s͉̘̤̺̝̺͌͒i̳͓͍͇̐ͪ̒̾̓o̘͆͒͛͆n͎̘̮͚̜͕̓ͬ̐ ͇̘̞̒̓m͔̟̜̑̑̒̊a͙͔̐ͦ͌̉t̬͗ͧ̃ͬ̊e̹̣͚͛ͧͮ̌r͔̤͇̬͌ͬ̂i͎̞̾͆̍a̰̖͍͉͐̉͂̀l͕͓̙̈

D͚ͥr̰̿ő̠n͙̊e̝̋ ̿ͅc̩͌o͓͗n̮̊v̹́e͙͆r͉̽s͎̓i̩̋o͔̍n͖̉ ͍ͤm̪͐a̠̔t͖ͤe͔ͣr͇͛ḭ̃a̘̎l͎ͥ;̭ͭ ̤ͥa̝͊c͍̐k̲͛n̮͑o̖ͬw̖ͥl̲̆ē͓d͉́g͓̃e̦ͫď̻.̲ͪ ͓̆Ḛ͌s͖͑t͖ͯi̥̓m̖̈́ȧ̙t̪̽e̘͌d̰͐ ̘͒ť̯ȋ͚m̠ͬê̟ ͙̔ṷ̐ǹ͓ṭ̂ȉ͈lͤͅ ͍͗D̞̅r͉̆ỏ̻n̫ͥe̩̅ ̺͑r͔̈ȇ͕ǎ̮d͕ͧĩ͇ń̗e͍ͣs̼͋s̫͑ ̞ͯf̼̍o͎͗r̠ͧ ̼̉f̠ͫu̯̾l̻̾l͚ͤ ̞́m̯͌ě͈t̼̑a͉̾m͍ͬo̟ͮr̹̿p͋ͅh̩ͮō̤s̩ͯi̲͛s̱̚:̻͖̀̅ ̘͋3̝̉4̤̌.̲̓0͊ͅ4͚ͩ1̺͛7͙̈ ͔ͫt̯̾e̫͑r̪̉ř͙e̳̋s̳ͫt̽ͅr̲̚î͕ã͓l̰ͯ ͓ͧr̩ͯo̗ͣt̖̒a̰̚t̰͋i̬ͥo̘̅ǹ̜s͎͒

4.2

Magpies76: Just got confirmation that Reaveanator and BigGrandBlue can make it, thank you both very much, I appreciate it is a much longer journey for you both.

BigBlueInsomniac: Of course, Kirsten, wouldn't have it any other way.

LittleOwl : Me and Emma are coming, her dad is bringing us, sorry I have not been posting much, I kind of got into a scuffle and have been away from my phone.

SkySkyDaydream : Managed to get leave, gonna have somebody moving me about so hope you'll not mind that. Hope you are okay Owl, stay safe.

MagPies76 : You okay LittleOwl?

LittleOwl : Yeah, all okay Just a bit scary

MagPies76 : And of course, not Solomon, we'll do all we can to make sure you are all comfortable.

SkyskyDaydream : Thanks Kirsten. How is he?

Magpies76 : Meeting with Joe/CreateRandom, I'm giving them some space. Ra1ndrops is here as well but she is going to speak with him afterwards.

Magpies76: I'm so thankful you'll all be coming and all you're doing for Joe

Magpies76 : Sorry, I had to step away for a bit, I just... I'm sorry everyone. I just wish none of this had ever happaned.

Magpies76 : Sorry everyone, that was inappropriate of me.

LittleOwl : It's okay Kirsten, if you want to say anything or rant, just message me, it's okay.

LittleOwl : Sorry, that was probably a bit forward, sorry.

Magpies76 has sent you a message

~~~~~

Her body was aching.

Perhaps it was growing pains, or more likely it was her time spent in the gym getting in some exercise and practising her punches, but Taylor wandered the halls of Brockton Bay's Headquarters feeling just a little sorry for herself and eagerly anticipating leaving on her patrol later. She was with Shadow Stalker and Kid Win on a walk through a safe neighbourhood.

Supposedly safe, she would be paranoid and on edge even then...

But the recent tensions in the city were starting to calm down.

In the end, the matter of the PR had been settled with a half-way solution, the news celebrated the capture of Bakuda as a 'joint effort between multiple teams working in unison following an attempted ambush of a routine Ward's operation', and her name had been at the top of the list of individuals who had taken part, with a special commendation and mention of 'heroism under fire.'

To call rushing her out at all times of the day to cancel out dangerous after effects of Bakuda's bombs a 'routine Ward's operation' was stretching it, but it sounded better than the reality of the situation.

Thankfully, there were no videos of her heroic laying on the floor cancelling out explosions and then storming into the building to beat Bakuda senseless, no, the rather doctored and highly edited account of the night's events was more than enough for her.

it was enough that she was even getting occasionally recognised on her one weekly patrol!

Most people still wanted to speak with the others Wards accompanying her more, but the occasional person actually knew her Cape name now! And PHO had been speculating on her powers for a little while, it gave her a sort of nervous, giddy-butterflies-in-the-stomach sort of sensation.

Even if the main thread title discussing the events of that night, 'Brockton Bays Bomber, Bakuda, Beaten!' made her feel exasperated every time she read it, it was so tacky and tasteless.

But still, she saw it as a win for her, she had managed to get her superiors to acknowledge her point about being recognised, even if they were leaning on her a bit more heavily to be respectful and less blunt in how she spoke with them all.

She was trying her best on that point.

Whilst she walked, she briefly checked the Calendar on her phone.

Patrol in an hour, so she could fit in a full shower and change at her leisure, maybe do a bit of homework? And then flying out to Pittsburgh for a weekend of loop breaking with Coleson, Emma and her father, returning Sunday night just in time for a week of school and her therapy session Monday evening. If nothing else, she was managing to fill every moment of time with something, rather than allowing it to be dead time.

"--city this time?"

Somebody was talking down the corridor, and as she put away her phone she focused on the sounds.

"There is every chance that Brockton Bay will be the target this time, according to the predictions, but we've got a few weeks to prepare more."

"Which one seems most likely?"

"Impossible to know yet, good chance that it could be Leviathan seeing as we are on the coast, but it has attacked inland cities before."

Endbringer?

Oh... it had been a few months right, the world would be increasingly holding its breath, waiting for the metaphorical Sword of Damocles to fall upon whichever city it was that would face the brunt of the unnatural disaster's wrath. The only consolation was that the Spider had never attacked a city, a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless, Taylor had no doubt that if it did decide to advance upon an urban centre then it would be a lost cause.

Just thinking about it make a cold shiver run down her spine and her heart rate to spike, hammering in her ears like a drum.

It was a shame that none of the Endbringers felt the need to go and destroy somewhere like Elisburg.

But still.

She passed the speakers, a trio of PRT Troopers, including McKingly, the officer who responded first and helped her load Bakuda into the back of the van. He gave a sharp nod, and she smiled back, but passed them without comment on their discussion.

An Endbringer attacking Brockton Bay?

Everyone had those thoughts, it was a grim reality of living on Earth Bet, the knowledge that every three months, wherever you were living might end up being the target of a seemingly unstoppable force of nature that would utterly destroy your life, whether bringing it to an end, destroying your property or just forcing you to flee everything you had known.

And worse, in some cases.

She had thought about it before, of course, imagined herself and her father having to run. She knew the exact location of the nearest three Endbringer shelters to her home of course, but now that she was a Hero, it would be her duty to take part in an Endbringer attack, right?

What could she do against them though... against Behemoth perhaps she could cancel out its infamous kill aura? But then she would just get pulverised under a single fist, or blasted with lightning... but maybe she could be useful that way? Leviathan was a wash, literally, cancelling a tsunami just left you with a tsunami still heading your way. And the Simurgh... probably nothing. She would be useless against the winged one.

But maybe she could still help with search and rescue or something like that?

The fact that she was already speculating on it all was worrying, in its own way.

She sighed as she walked, but it was no use, now that the idea was in her head, she could not stop turning over ideas, running mental simulations of how it would go, what she could do in an Endbringer battle. That same burning curiosity and drive to learn more about Capes had always been there for each Endbringer as well, but there was far less of them for her to learn about.

She put it mostly aside as she returned to the Wards quarters and prepared for the evening.

~~~~~

"Just slightly lift it here, you need to keep the right posture or else it gets kind of uncomfortable to hold it for long," Taylor lifted the end of the flute, the one held in her friends' hands, as carefully as she could. Emma frowned slightly, but gave it another go, the note was a little too forceful, her fingers were still a little slow on the keys, but she was coming along well.

Rather than hiring a professional tutor, Emma had decided that Taylor would be her teacher.

She had no doubt that her family could easily afford the finest flautist in Brockton Bay to teach her. It was rather humbling in a way, but she could not help but think that Emma was holding back her full potential by being taught by her.

Although, she was coming along very rapidly, it was near superhuman.

Just the other day, when they were in Pittsburgh, they even played a little duet together.

Finishing the current piece, Emma took a breath and after a moment spoke up.

"How many loops have you got left after today, Tay?"

"Three more tomorrow, although they are on the other side of the city, then we head to the next place."

Another long weekend, by now she was spending almost as much time out of Brockton Bay as she was in it, and with it came the full convoy of Capes, troopers and of course, Agent Coleson, who she rather suspected was gaining some degree of infamy among the east coast PRT. The man strode into some of the biggest PRT headquarters in the country as if he was going to personally pull the place apart with his bare hands, a good number of Heroes had scarpered rather than get in his way.

Watching him discuss with Legend the protocols for her safety had been embarrassing but also kind of... cool.

She had grown rather fond of the man who acted as her supervisor during these work trips.

"They are really having you pack them in," Emma noted, neutrally, as Taylor brought her mothers flute to her lips and rapidly moved through the notes to warm herself up. It took her a few seconds, during which Emma watched.

The redheads' eyes followed her fingers.

"I don't mind it; it keeps me busy... I like being useful," she admitted, trying to leave the topic there.

Unfortunately, her friend was more persistent than that.

"Tay, you don't need to push yourself to do something every moment," she said, reaching up to pinch the end of her mother's flute and pulling it away. She let it, bringing the instrument to her chest and resigning herself to this conversation.

"... It's not that easy Em's, there's so many loops and I am the only person who can break them."

"Even then," Emma pressed.

How could she explain it? Emma wouldn't understand what it was like to have a power, the duty and responsibility to make use of it, the pressing need to put her power to good use. And increasingly recently she had made the decision... had that realisation that she needed to live, to do as much as she could in the limited time that she had been afforded.

James's upcoming funeral was just another reminder that every moment of her time was precious, was a gift that could not be wasted.

"Listen Em's, it's not that easy, you wouldn't..."

She stopped herself, and for a moment it was like the world had stopped as her friend stared right into her eyes, eyes that seemed so sharp and piercing boring into hers.

Suddenly, she felt as if she had crossed some manner of line, the deafening silence between them was like an ocean, vast and incomprehensibly deep.

"... Were you about to say that I wouldn't understand, Tay?" Emma began, slowly, softly. "Really? You really think I don't know what it's like?" Her friend's voice was a combination of angry and hurt, she was frowning even as her eyes looked just a little wet, and from the corner of her eyes Taylor saw the way her friend's prosthetic fingers clenched at her side.

Her stomach sank as she realised what she had said, as the benefit of hindsight struck like a truck. Of course... of course Emma would know, Emma alone would really know what it was like, even if she would live a full life instead of Taylor.

"I... no, sorry Emma. I wasn't thinking."

"No, you really weren't," Emma snapped back.

In silence they stood for a moment, in a yawning gulf of things she wanted to say. She hated moments like this when, for all her drive, all her recent experiences and her power, she had no idea what to do right now, ideas and imagined simulations of ways this could go turned over themselves in her head and all of them inevitably went negative in some way.

Why was it like this? Why could she pursue a mad bomber through a building racked with explosions, yet she couldn't even think of the right words to say to her best friend?

"Tay."

Emma reached forward and took her shoulders, and even though Taylor knew she was strong enough to move or break out of the grip she didn't. She let herself be held in place as Emma went on, unblinking.

"Listen, you're not alone so long as you have me, or your dad, got that?"

She opened her mouth.

"Got that, right?"

All at once Emma was so intense that Taylor almost found herself nodding automatically in agreement.

It was only after a moment that the other girls' words registered in full. She knew Emma would recognise that fact, the other girl was far more perceptive of people's actions than she was. She forced her mouth to move and words to come to her lips.

"Yeah, I know I have you both, and it really means a lot to me--"

"And you don't have to force yourself to be useful for anyone else, do it because you want to, right? It's enough to just be you, Taylor. Just you, that's all we need," Emma's face was just a small distance away, close enough to fill her entire vision, the hands on her shoulders were gripping harder, enough to make the crystal faintly creak.

"Y-Yeah."

And then she was brought into a hug, a crushing hug, as if Emma was trying to crush Taylor into her. They stood, swaying there a moment before Emma loosened up the hug.

"... C'mon, lets watch a movie or something," Emma half-suggested, half-demanded, letting go of her and taking her crystallised hand with her prosthetic one.

She was supposed to be back at the Headquarters soon...

But fuck it, she'd message Coleson and see if she could stay with Emma and her father at the hotel tonight.

4.3

It had been two weeks of intense loop breaking, blitzing through cities, small towns and even one or two small villages, returning to the Bay just for a few days to do the bare minimum of required schoolwork.

She felt exhausted, like she was going through the wringer.

She felt alive, like every moment was not wasted.

Giddy with the success that she was only partially allowed by the Bay, the praise and thanks, the relief on the faces of those whom she saved, she woke each morning with aching limbs but the energy and purpose to move them. Every day she felt as alive as that moment she made the decision on the concrete pavement, bloodied and broken under Bakuda's tender care.

Everything felt new again after an experience like that, she had it before when she broke that first loop, but it was stronger this time.

Whilst sitting eating lunch with Emma just the other day before they were due to drive to the next town, she had taken a moment to stop and really look. The trees rustling in the wind, its cool breeze on her face. It was not quite the world she was used to, in a way it felt a little alien and other, really. Perhaps it was because she was used to Brockton Bay, to the city

"This world's pretty beautiful when you stop and look at it."

Emma said nothing for a second as she stared out as well.

"Yeah, it really is."

Her time outside of the Bay breaking loops had become a strange joy, one that veered between the delightful and the horrific. Even if her name would only ever be tangentially known in the Bay for the Bakuda incident (even with her special commendation…) the way Ordinant was received by the PRT Departments she visited was growing addictive. Notable Capes would greet her, she was growing used to it and enjoying the little conversations with people whose careers she had been following for years.

It was both easy and difficult at the same time, because on some level she knew that it would not last, and in the moment, it was easy to forget that.

But with the combination of seeing firsthand the torture of the people she was sparing from the loops and James's funeral coming up halfway through their trip, the heady joys of being useful and observing all she could always came up sharply against the cold hard reality of the world, like whiplash dragging her right back.

It was all well and good to be recognised as the heroic, life changing Ordinant, but then another to see the unglamorous, painful reality of the world.

Her life had descended into a bipolar haze that swung like a steady pendulum between these two states.

Ah, and there was, dwelling on the situation.

"You ever get weird thoughts looping in your head?"

"... Not overly often, I always keep my mind on work to be honest," Coleson replied, glancing up from his laptop. "When I stop working or keeping busy, I always find myself thinking about old friends that I have lost in this line of business," he said, bluntly. No sugarcoating, no pretence.

"Jesus keep it light, chief!" grunted one of the troops nearby.

He shrugged in response.

"What are you thinking about then?"

"Just about that girl yesterday, the one having her eye taken out with a spoon over and over--" a nearby trooper conspicuously winced and was suddenly very interested in looking out the window. "The one who triggered with that power to have their detached body parts continue to work from a distance, I have it running through my head a lot... it's not a very useful power, but to her..."

"It probably saved her from needing life changing surgery," Coleson finished for her as she trailed off.

"Yeah. I often find myself thinking about powers and how they work like that," she shrugged.

For a moment he remained quiet, frowning slightly

"If you want to take a brief break from breaking loops, we can. You've already seen a lot in the last few days."

She had.

There was no point denying that. Her mind was just dwelling on the more horrific things, the idle speculation on the powers and their applications was probably just a stress response to try and detract and focus on something else, right?

"No, I want to continue."

~~~~~

The pendulum swung, it was a fine day for a funeral, in that the weather was miserable.

By now, Taylor was not sure whether she would have preferred it to be sunny, a sunny funeral felt as if the world itself was mocking everyone present, as if the world was celebrating despite how everyone present felt. But a rainy funeral kind of felt like the opposite, as if the world was mourning with you. Her mother's funeral had been in the rain, and a good number of the ones she had been to since had been the same.

By now the two situations were conjoined in her mind.

She and Emma were sharing an umbrella, shoulders pressed together as they silently watched as the memorial was raised, a simple stone on which was written the name James Carver, alongside some details, dates, and relations.

James himself had long since been shattered and atomised, the process for dealing with crystallisation victims was so complete that there was nothing left behind whatsoever, no body or ashes to scatter at all. A memorial and eulogy was the only thing that the living could offer the dead, in a cold parody of what would normally be afforded to the living.

They did not even have the virtue of becoming worm food.

Still...

They still had their own little ways.

Walking in pace with Emma, Alan Barnes standing off from the side, Taylor watched as Emma reached into her coat and pulled out a small, neatly sealed envelope. On its back was the words 'for James', which she carefully placed in the small box that the deceased's sister, Kirsten was holding. She was an attractive girl, or would be if it was not for the running make up and the clear signs of long-term stress that hung about her like a shroud.

The letter went atop those of the other seven remaining survivors of the summer camp, all of whom were current arranged behind the two of them, and when Emma moved aside and took the umbrella from her, Taylor took out her own letter and placed it with the others.

She had gotten used to writing them by now, she had penned over fifteen of them at this point, ever since the tradition became the norm within the support group it had become almost rote, the taking up of the pen and the evening spent in lonely reflection trying to find the right words.

None of them would ever be read, the box would be buried at the foot of the memorial.

"T-thank you, everyone."

Kirsten's voice was barely audible over the loud hammering of the rain against the umbrella, and perhaps that was the loudest that she could manage?

All the others were in wheelchairs, or in the case of Isabelle and Daniel, aka BigBlueInsomniac and SkySkyDaydream, stood upright strapped to a sort of gurney that could be manoeuvred and manipulated to stand mostly upright.

One of those two would be next, probably Daniel.

The box was carefully buried, Kirsten kept her back to them all as somewhere in the distance thunder boomed as they watched and waited for the last step to be done. For all the effort to organise it, the little ceremony had barely lasted longer than an hour and a half after all those who wished to speak had done so.

Not far away, one of them brought their hands together

Aimee, Ra1ndrops. A small girl with mousy brown hair and glasses, now in a wheelchair, crystallised halfway up her torso but still able to move her arms.

"... He's somewhere better now," she said, "somewhere with Him."

"Yeah..." Joe joined her in bringing his hands up and together. "With him."

Taylor rather struggled to believe in the notions of a god that could allow all this to happen. The closest thing to the living god was a flying golden man who would as soon save a kitten as he would fight off an Endbringer, working without ceasing, without direction. No, there was no such thing as a god, just a cold, vast cosmos filled with stars and the tiny creatures that clung to their orbiting planets across countless galaxies and dimensions.

Both prayed, Taylor did not remember them both being religious, but when one faced one's own mortality growing closer every day, she supposed that plenty would reach for god, for religion. A nice balm to soothe the soul, but one she could not find herself.

The final eulogy came to an end, they moved into the room for the wake, and Kirsten departed ostensibly to use the bathroom... although Taylor rather suspected that she needed five minutes to herself. As drinks were shared, Taylor could increasingly feel the gaze of the others on them both.

The relative slowness of both her and Emma's crystallisation had been a topic of conversation before, for better and worse.

But today most of the attention was on Emma.

"... What is she doing here, anyway?" it was Gabrielle, who had managed to turn her head enough to look in her and Emma's direction.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at us, we can see them," the immobilised girl said, glowering. "You've gotten prosthetics, you even got any more crystal left on you?"

"... No, but I--"

"Then why are you here!?" it came out as a choked, rasping snarl, although there was only so much air that the girl could force out of her lungs. "You aren't even gonna... suffer like us?" Gabrielle took in another breath, as big as she could, and there was the faint sound of the crystal creaking as her mostly solid torso warped and tried to accommodate the action.

The end result was that she was left breathless, small, short gasps of air passing out her mouth just from that small effort.

Emma hunched over, and at once Taylor was aware of how much taller she had gotten over her friend, the redhead casting her gaze towards the ground.

"... I have the same right to be here," Emma said.

And yet...

"Even then, don't you think it's kind of rude, you could have at least covered your prosthetics up, it's like you are trying to show them off," it was Joe, who was looking at Emma's prosthetic hand moodily. "Like, good on you for not having to die like the rest of us, but still..."

"I wanted Emma here... originally those prosthetics were intended for me," she said suddenly, cutting him off. "They didn't work for me, so they tried them with Emma and they did, they cannot replicate what happened anyway," she lied. She had known that at some point these questions would be asked, and had been putting it off since she first found out about Prosthetist, since she made her resolution to try to save herself.

And then...

"Heh..." it was a small, depreciating sound, Emma raised her eyes to look at the others.

"Don't worry guys, when the promised time comes, I'll die just like all the rest of you."

In silence the group stood, the air thick and heavy, so unutterably so that Taylor could feel it weighing down upon her shoulders. It was like the world had stopped for them all, were it not for the sound of rain outside.

Alan hadn't heard his daughter, and when everyone was focused on Kirsten's return and her last few words, Taylor stole a glance at her friend. The redhead was downcast, even more so than before given the grim circumstances they were in today. Was she crying? Taylor leaned closer and brought an arm around her friend to pull her closer, as close as she could, making Emma look up at her.

There was something else in her gaze, as if she was trying desperately to say something without words, but what it was Taylor could not tell.

And then Emma looked away, leaning against her but turning her attention to the faded carpet of the church.

Seven of them left, now.

When they got back, Emma locked herself away for the rest of the night, and Taylor sat with her back to the door, waiting, until the early morning when silently she was let in to sit with her friend to share in the sombre company.

"...It's alright."

She had no idea which of them the words were for.

~~~~~

È͎͙͇̯̭̭̹͌̌̈́n̬̻̝̎̍̉ͬ̏̈́g̻̗͊͊́ͯ̂͑͗a̩̹̞̟̣̲̗̋́g̬͇͈͈̦ͫ̅i͓͎̝̗ͩͣ̒n͎̩̏̓̈ǵ̲̩̼͔ ͇̯̜̟̜͙͎ͩ̃P̝͓̱̥̯͙͒͋̽̄ͅa̰̪̦̅̾̍̎͒r̩̲͉̦̪̮ͭ̑̒̊ǎ̲d̪ͥ̉i̪̩̭ͣͦ̔̑̃͆̾g͕̠̪̭̤͖̃m̜̝͎̳̣̃̿͐̒ͫ͑ ̰͒͋̏͊I̖̞̠̾̉ͨͭͦn̥͇͍͆ͦ̽͐̽f͇ͨ̏͛ͦ̒ĺ̮̫̦͔̱̬̞̅̆ạ͈̤͛̋̓͛t̼͎̫͓͔̞̥ͧͬ̃ͬ̿i̖ͤ͗ō̻̝͔ͅn̺̭͚̯̼̏͒̈̈͌͋̆.̜̖͎͎̲̏̋͋̉͂͊ͮ ̠̬͐̿͊A͈̜̒̊ͬn̺͆ͭ̍̐͑ä̯͍̻́̀l̬͈ͯͧ̚̚y͇̮̣̼̣ͮ͐̅ͩ̈́s̞̿̌ͤ̋̍ͬḭ͈̮̥͂ṣ͗̓ͬ̆ͮ̈́:̹̙̳̳̳̂ͨ ͚̼͎͊̉ͤ̆͆̊͑E̻̼̭͋ͣ̾̇̄ͭ̔ś̺͕t͙̓͒a̪̪͓̞̠͖̗ͣ̅̅̀b̮̩͖̅l̻͉͉ͩ̂̏i̪̥̫̯͆̄̌ͬͅs͇̪̫̓̂h͚̤̒̒̀ͅm͇̜͈ͫͩ͌̊́ẻ̻̣ͯn̙̘͓͓̪̟͋̎͂ͫt̙̃ͪ̈ͤͭ ̣̤̙̘̭ͫ̿o̥̳̖͖̽̅̽ͪͬ͌ͥf̱̦̥̔̐̾ ̹̰͉̙̳̔̽̃̒ͬ̃i̯̽̾̈͌ͬ̚̚n̮̹̞̦̰͇̄ͬ̐ͩ̆ͬͫd̜̟̭͒e̮̩ͦ̔̈́ͦ̅͌p͕̱̬̳̞̜ͥĕ͚͉͍̱̜͉̔n̜̜̞̠̯͕̿ͪͩ̀ͥ̚d͍͕̗ͬ̄ȅ͕͓̭̘̱̤̜̋ͮ͐̓n͈̤̭̔̍t̖̹͈͑ͪͤ͒̿̑ ͓͇ͣ̓m̖̹̮̞ͤ̋ͅö͖͕̙͎́́̄ͫt͈͕̦̝̭̗̅̎̈͋̀̄̅î̦͍͇͒l̻̪͔̙ͤͮ̅͗i̥̜̤̻̖͈̹ͤ̅ͣt̜̻̹̦̠̍̍ͫͦͥ͗y̭̳͓̖̐ͪ̌ͯ ̘̹͈͋͊̌̃ͩ̋a̩͇̞̱̩͔̘ͧ̓̈́ͧ̚n̗̹̻͕̫̑̆ͦ̓̊ͥd͔̤̼̼̩̥͉̂͂ ̲̺̩̔͆̽͒ͪ̏h̞̭̰̙̟̬̘ͤ̋o͖͆̒ͥ̉̑s̜̭̫̳̥̰ͩͩt͙̞ͪ̐ͯ̅-͖͂d͇͇̱ͤ̾̐͂̔ͨi̱̲͙̯̱̩̦̅̌̏͛ͤ̆r͚̐e͍͖̱͇̲̲̔ͨ͊ċ̬̳͈͔̻͍̉ͅt̻̥̤̘̮͂̔ͅȋ̻̓ͮ͂̿o͙̥ͣ̈̈́̐́ͫͅṇ̯͍͈̺̼ͪͦ̏͐̚ ̳̦͓̿͗ͮ̉͗́ä̳̤̭c͉̟ͧͫt̫͙̃ī̝ͥ́o̻̟̰̗̺͍͚͋̉̌ͧn̤͚̤̜ͯ̽̌̔̉̉͌ ̯̟̳̾̾̒̾̓ͅo̜̫̅f̖̍ͩ̾̓̚ ̜͔̺͔̬̖̀̔͌͑ͧ̌d͎̬̬̹͛ě̼̬̞̝̩̟̎t̻͕̟̠̥͉͊ä͉̳̝̥ͤ̿̓̀c͍̗͛h̪̾͗ͩ̃̉e̖̜̲͇̦̯͌̽d̹̔ͤ̈́̚ ̻͛͒̒l͍̖͍̱̬̣͗ͮ̋ͨ͌̚ḯ̝̪͖̊ͦ͛̀͂m̥̤̦̣̰͐̃ͪ̚b͎͕͕̭̳͉̏ͭ̄̊ͪͅś̘̀̇̈́͑ͨͪ ̭̰̠͈̱̜̂͂ͅȃ͖̦̞̹̻͇͍̍n̳̺̦̠̲̎̌͑̏̏ͬ̅ͅd̮̮̟ͦͮͫ̚ͅ ̝ͧ̏ͥ͌

s͔̮͉͚̝͑͂̓̓ͅu̳̠̖̝͔̖̼ͬͪͩf̰̜͍̖̹̝ͤͯf̮̼̠͔̪ͪi̖̖̲͕̪ͧͨc̮̤ͪͧ̽ͪ̎̓͋i͈̓̓̈̅̑̍ͥe͎̭͇̙̣͚ͦ̽̓͂ͯ̓n͙̖̩̮̠ͮt͇̮̫̪̩̩̖ͧ̿̉͂́l̤̥̲̟̰ͪ̒͛͛̿ͨ̋y͓̫͋͋ ̲ͨ̋ͨ̔c̹͛o͇̺͎̊̔̽ͭ̿m͕̜̱͙͔̱̖ͯ̎̎̊ͭͭ̏p̲̝̖̻̥̼ͫ͌ͨ̋l͇̈͑̓̆̀̋e̬̣̩̟͓̔̂x̠̽͒ͭͤ́͋̔ͅ ̭͓̬ͪ̑͒͗ͅb̘̙̞͕̑ͯͅọ̫̻̬̐͊̐ͦd̘̝͖̠̜͉̳ͥ͗̆̈y͇͈̟͔̺̻͉͊ͯ ͖̭̀ŝ̬̙͇̙̫̰̥̆ĕ̞g͋ͪͅm̦̞̳̜̣̘̫̾̄͌e̤̱̫͈ͪ̑n͓̜̹̮̗̫ͤͦ̽͋͗͊̒t͎̩͉̜̘̐̈̍̐͌̇s͍̦̦̫͓̦͛ͣ̀̄͒ͧ͋.̪͓͓̘̹̇͌ͧ̈

4.4

And just as soon as things were improving for the Bay, they weren't.

The names of the various Capes within the Empire Eighty-Eight had been revealed to the world.

Sat in a PRT van driving to her first loop of the day, Taylor rubbed at her temple.

Couldn't the gangs go a fortnight without fucking something up? First it was Bakuda and now the Empire was up in literal arms, attempted arrests and other legal actions were being taken. She would most certainly not want to be one of the various agents and office workers in Brockton Bay right now, that much was for sure, and was rather dreading returning to her home. What state would she find it in? Would there be a constant ground war now, would there be open conflict in the street, grand battles between the forces of the PRT and the Empire?

Wasn't revealing a Capes name against the rules?

Yes... thinking back, the PRT had made sure to give her a very grounding conversation on the topic of identities, of the Unwritten Rules.

And now those rules were broken, shit was once more hitting the fan.

Their home, would she find it there when she returned? All her memories of her mother were in that house, if it was levelled, she would just have her tombstone in the lonely graveyard near the family home, and her mother's flute currently safely stowed away in her father's luggage.

Her heart felt warm, like it wanted to burst.

The stress, the thoughts about what was going on back home.

Reaching up she rubbed at that space, it felt so tight... maybe she had angina, or was having a panic attack? But it was just that sensation, nothing else... was she alright? It did not hurt, more than it was there suddenly and the sensation was a little uncomfortable. It was like her heart had heard the news about the day and decided to start racing in preparation for a fight that was nowhere near, it was the same sensation as when she had held Bakuda aloft in that basement. Now her body was training itself to anticipate conflict as well? Or was this just psychosomatic?

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.

Think about something nice and calming... the motion of the van was too smooth, the distant rumble of the engine...

They were going for sushi tonight; her father was not overly keen but apparently the city had a rather good restaurant founded by a refugee of Kyushu. She was rather looking forward to it, and Emma was strangely excited to try something called Takoyaki and dango, she had seen a video about Japanese street food a few nights ago and had been talking about it since. Yeah, that would be nice...

The heat in her heart was starting to fade away now.

"Are you alright, Ordinant?"

It was Coleson speaking, looking over at her from where he was seated a feat away. He had been looking over the paperwork for the day, a neat little stapled dossier, prepared by the local PRT branch and handed over upon their arrival. It was all standard procedure at this point, normally Coleson would take care of all that and give her any pertinent details like the victim's name alongside the 'estimated risk' and 'difficulty of the situation', a veiled way to put 'chance of triggering' and 'mental state'.

"Yeah, just a little bit of heartburn," she explained.

"I'll get some tablets delivered," swift as that he man he was on his phone, no doubt organising it. Hell, if the traffic remained this slow there might be a box of tablets waiting for them upon their arrival.

"It's okay, really... I probably just ate fast or the news got to me."

The man's lip quirked in a grim manner.

"Ah, you have seen that as well, then?"

"Yeah... who'd you think leaked it?"

"No idea, could be a lot of people," he leaned back in his chair. "After Bakuda's rampage it could be the ABB trying to destabilise and regain some ground they've lost, but it does not seem like Lung's typical M.O, more calculated than that," he said, removing the sun glasses from his face and bringing the end of one of the arms to his chin, tapping it in thought. "Wouldn't surprise me if its somebody looking to move into the Bay, or it could be a lot more simple than that and just be some disgruntled member of the Empire whose gotten sick of it all and wants to burn it down on the way out."

She hadn't thought about that. But Humans could be so very petty and vindictive, it would actually fit.

"That would be interesting, one person bringing down an entire gang..."

"It probably won't bring them down, but it will certainly make things rocky, they might have to fully go to ground, and seeing how their leader was apparently Max Anders..." he trailed off.

"More trouble in the Bay."

"No doubt, perhaps it is for the best that we are out of it for the weekend."

To that she said nothing, instead resting her head against the reinforced glass of the window, her visor tapping against it as she stared out at the world beyond this small metal and glass capsule. There was a family about to cross the road, waiting patiently for the lights, the father was hoisting his daughter up by the arm to keep her entertained, and judging by her expression, it was working. A man, built like a freight train merged with Hulk Hogan, was walking a tiny dog in a comical juxtaposition as a gang of kids were walked around trying to look menacing even as they pointedly straightened up as they passed a cop car.

All whilst her home once more descended into chaos.

What a beautiful, strange world.

Ten more souls saved from loops today, they really managed to cram them in, three of them triggered.

The first could summon an ongoing rain of iron spikes in a one metre area within eyesight, the larger the spikes the fewer would be created but the faster they would fall. It had been a little unnerving watching a torrent of needles suddenly come crashing down around the new trigger like some hellish form of acupuncture, but fortunately nobody was hurt.

The second, who had been burned alive for the last ten years was a breaker who could turn transform into liquid gasoline, never burning away, but not suffering the pain anymore... that one had been... difficult to handle, the person promptly had a panic attack.

But Taylor's favourite experience of the day had been from the final of the trio to trigger, a young woman who could influence gravity within a wide area around them, simple, but effective.

She had rather enjoyed floating through the air, cartwheeling slowly about in the ten or so seconds before the young woman had managed to get the effect under control. She could have cancelled the effect with ease... actually, a few people did call for her to do so, but it was rather fun to just enjoy the opportunity. It was the closest she would ever get to being in space, after all, and it brought a strange sense of comfort... to not be tied down to the ground, to an Earth so filled with problems and strife.

For just a few seconds as she floated, she felt a strange sense of absolute serenity.

So many applications, so many possibilities to distract herself with...

Each fascinating to consider.

That night, she had a dream she could remember when she woke up, of floating in the void of space as she was serenaded by the distant, soft rustling of solar winds.

~~~~~

It was the last day of loop breaking and she was largely running on adrenaline and sugar by now. The constant moving and living out of a suitcase was wearying, but something she had simply gotten used to by now, saving those poor bastards trapped by Gray Boy came first, and hey, the experiences outside of the loop-breaking was fun, right? Spending time with Emma and her father, seeing places outside of the Bay even as her home crumbled and collapsed.

She had to find positives!

Anything to keep going, beyond her own refusal to stop.

It was a noble purpose, saving others from hell.

Gray Boy had a rather vivid imagination when it came to inflicting pain on others it seemed.

She hoped that he suffered even a tenth what he had inflicted when he was killed.

Was that a bad thing for her to admit? If she was to say that about others then she would be seen as deranged, but it was okay to admit such a thing about a Parahuman who committed those sorts of atrocities right? If she was to meet Gray Boy, alive right now, it would be fine to brutalise him to within an inch of his life, it would be okay to kill him there and then, right?

With the flexibility of human morals, she was mostly putting the matter aside as an acceptable stance to take.

She took off her helmet and visor, shaking out her hair, which fell lank and greasy after so long contained within the confines of its protective shell. Gross... she would have a nice long shower when she got back to the hotel, that much was for certain! It was a downside of her outfit for sure, she dreaded to imagine just how warm some of the others must get in theirs... but then again, most of her fellow Wards kept their hair short.

She changed swiftly enough back into civies, and made her way to the headquarters carpark with her guard and Coleson, satisfied with the day, and they returned to the hotel. Really, she should be staying at Headquarters, but her father and Emma were not allowed to do so, and she would much rather be with them. They were flying out in just a few hours anyway, might as well all be together to make sure everything was in order.

And yet, returning to the hotel room Taylor found nothing but an oppressive mood. Emma was not around, her father sat at the hotel desk in front of the mirror as he glowered at his own reflection. A piece of paper with some scribbled writing was in front of him, brief notes, perhaps just vented thoughts? His writing, never neat, was a mess that she could not even decipher.

"Dad?"

"Hey Taylor..."

"... What's wrong? Where's Emma?"

"She went to go for a swim in the pool, but that's not the matter." He paused, and she waited expectantly. What had happened to get him like this? "Purity hit the Union."

Oh, the situation back in the Bay. Perhaps fortunately, work had kept her distracted, but of course Emma and her father had kept her updated whenever they were together.

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, it was mostly empty..."

Mostly empty.

Casualties.

Human beings dead. Human beings with families like hers.

For a moment Taylor blinked as the information washed over her. The Union, her dads work place. Where all his friends were. A community that he belonged to, the only community beyond their family and Brockton bay that he had left. The thing he fought so hard for, he would be devastated--no, she could see the evidence of that on his face. He looked drawn, so many people slowly being crushed under the inevitable weight of stress around them.

She reached out and hugged him.

"It'll be alright dad."

The long silence after she said that hurt the longer it went on.

"Of course it will, Taylor."

He was lying for her own good. It was like after her mother died, he told a lot of little white lies in that time to make sure that she would be okay. But but she had picked up on it, she had seen the truth behind it all, Taylor had gotten so used to human beings lying to her, telling her things in an attempt to give her consolation and hope that she was used to it, she hated it. But lies kept the world together and running, it was the way of the world.

She disliked it less than the notion of luck, that much was for certain.

"We'll bring her in, I promise."

This time there was no comment to be safe, or perhaps he was to distracted to say it, to repeat it by rote.

"... I hope so, I hope they throw the fucking book at her."

So did she. The entire Empire, all of them had infected the city for long enough. But historically they would get away, they always did, everyone always did. It took more brutal methods to secure a Cape prisoner.

Like with Bakuda.

A cold apathy settled over her as she thought about the Empire. Life really had a way of lining them up, didn't it? It was like the world was mocking her, or trying to throw as much trouble as it possibly could her way. Her power would be thankful for it, no doubt, the opportunity to experience more power effects.

That night, as they returned to Brockton Bay on a short flight her brain turned over dozens of ideas, recalling small details and facts she knew about members of the Empire, simulating a thousand scenarios if she was to have to try and bring any one of them in. The only distractions were the necessities of travel and Emma's constant chatter and attempts to draw her from her reverie.

~~~~~

Ĕ͔̩͉͕̣̺ͅn̟̘̻͔͂̂ͫg̠̯̭̘ͮͦa̤̤̱̳̓͑̈ͭg̬̜̭̤͐̓̓̍͛ͨ̚ï̹͚̟͙͇̖n̬̦͎̮̗ͭg̟͒̓͆̽̃͋ ̯ͯ̽̅P̺͕̞̳̍̓ȧ͚̟̗̭̝͕̩ͮ͊r͇̞̳̻̦̓̿͊̚a̞͉̺̝̺͈̐̿̅ͭͭď̻̏ͩ̂̈́ḯ̯̦̟͔͛͗g̯͇̹̋̒m͕̼͖̑̅̽̑̈́͑ ̺̻͒ͨI̯ͤ͆̈́͒ͤ̽ͦn̲̣̄f̘̥ͧ͂̿̅̈͋̅l̮̥̦̀̅ͯ̉̏a̠̦͓͓̪ͥͭ̔t̹͍̬͌̇i̬͓̗͚ͧ̿ͩo̥̫͕͚͓̜̘ͧ̑̏ͬ̿̔̽ṉ͖ͦ̾.̬̮̥̾̈̌̅̽ͧ ̺̩̼̭͉̓ͤ͗̚Ã̘͕̏̔ͯn̠ͪa͇̬͕̘͈̍ͭ͊͛̆l̻̗̦͈̳͂̓̑̌ͮy͚̬͖̯̙̟̺ͫ͋̾͋̐s̻̞̄ͫ͗̔i̼͎̤ͩs̲͔̺̥̯̺ͤ̉̑͛͒͗ͧ:͖͍͚̱̾ͅ ͖̮̖̤̣̄͐̌̓̂̽S̺͈ͧ͆͊̌͌̉̊p̙̘̭̔ͪ͊̔͒o̥͍̳̔̂̓̔ͫn̮ͫ̆t̪̣̥͓̰̮̘̐ǎ̫̯͖̤̠̤͂ͮí̖͎̗̥̜͔n̜̯̥̈͊̔e͓͚̩̩̥ͪͨ̃̏̿̚ō̲̻̠̹̦͕ͨ̎u̦̻̟͍ͭ̄͆̉ͅs̮̪͎̭̬͈͒͑̽ͣ̈́̈́ ̮̲̠̓̃ͭͪͬ̂g̣̗ͣͨ̾e͋ͅn̥͈̩͙̐̈̎e̩̺̳̤͂̒ŕ̲̪͍̫a̠̋͆̍̍t͚̲͕̆ͥͤͯͩ̓ī̹̙͈ọ̞̹̓ͫ́ͪṅ̻̯̫̔̽͆ ͕͚̪̝̦ͮͩͫ̋ȫ͙̔̄ͤ͛f̱̩̐̽̉ͅ ̹̏͆ͯ̉̆ͫ̚f̘̭͓̞͈̂̄̓ͧ͗e͉̬̱̠͒ͪͫͪ͒̾r̼͋̃͆r̟͈̠͙̦̙̎o̱̤̟̯̽͋ͬͨ̿ͧ̌u̜͉ͤ͆ͣ͑s̖̯͈̝̖̈ͬ͛ͯͬ̃͑ ̻̜͎ͧͪ͋͑̍̓ͧs̻̠̯͔ͪͫ̅͗͋p̪͕̮͍̦͋͗̔͂i̼̬̥͓ͯk̩̎e̞̯̩̗̦͔̐̃̾̐̑ͦs͇͔͚̦̳ͪ̿ͬ̃̓̽ͅ ͙̼̱ͩ̂̓͂̚ͅl͔̹͒ͥ̓̔̑͗i̼̭͚̲ͩ͑ͭͪ̽m̭̱̱̪̰̓̈́ͭ̑̎̃̀i̪̬ͤ̿̍̿ͦͅͅt̩͆ͧ̄ͦ̿ẹ̮̻̬̍͗̀͑ͅd̲͋͗ͦͤ̾ ̙̅ͮ̾t̺̗̜͇̥̥̍̏̉o͇̱͗̓̾̑̓ͧ̚ ̳̻͙̬̘̟̇ͮ͋a͔ͨ ̪̫ͦͬ̆͊ͯ̎o͇̞̫̮͔̞̠͊n̩̊͆ͪ͌̌ͧͅͅe̥̾ͥ ̻̮̯̤͊̔̄̓͐ͪ̚m̦̓̐͊͑ĕ̫͖̣̗̇ͥͤͭ̑t̜̤̻̞̹͆͊ͩ̑ͪ̋r̘͔̤̭͖͚̾́ͮ̾e͙̱͔̩̭͈͇͆̅̑ ̺̞̮̰̜͙̰͋̆̎͋̒͋s̪̅ͩͪͨ̒ͯͅq͈̺̼͕̪͚̭̍̊̉̓͂ṷ̦̲̏̋̈́̈́ͦǎ̖̥̹̤̤r̙̯̩͎͊ͨͭͬ͋e̝̼̫̒ͨd͔̹̲̟͖̓ ̭̜̣͇̳̰̺͗̎ͥ͂͑ậ̑̃́̿̈́ŕ̞͈ͬͤ͋ͫͭ̃e͉̺̜ͭ͂́a̩̮̪͎͓̣̻ͨ̇͒͗ ̱̪̤̟̮̼̋ͪẉ͍̬̱ͯ͒̈́̒i̘̙͊̇t͙̬͉̥̱̺ͨ͊́͐́ͯͪḣ͔̗̤͑̉́i̩͔̗̪͇̗̝͆̏ͬ̇n̞̖̘̒ͧͭͮ ̟̝͆ͬ̑o̟̤ͬ̐r̩͗̽͂̒̿ͫ͒ä̬̘͍c͙̰͇̿̇͆̏̀̃ű̗̭ͪl̥̮̞̼̺̬ͪ̊͗̅a̮͎̠͐͑r̪͖̠̭̳ͨ͛ ̤̥̽̑̒ͪ̒̚ͅr̯͍̭͙ͦͭ́͆̓̈́ͭa̘̳̞̘͈͓̟̒̂ͨǹ̠g̤̟̠̤̗̈ͩ̉́̂e̯͙͍̓ͣ̂̑.͉ͦ̾ ͎͔̻̯̰̤̫̾ͯ̐ͦͩ̾

C͖͍ͣͭ̿͒̓̚ä̤̫̫͚̦́̾̒͗̎ͦ͆p͖̭͈̳̬̒͆̊ͅả͖͕͇̥͉ͅc̤̱̠̘̙͚̳͊ͣ̽͌̈́ͪ̚i̗ͯ̄ͪt̖̬͍͒̏̑ͦ̊ͭy͕ͨͩͦ ͉͚̗͛̿ͣ̅ͨ͑̐t̖̃̋ͥͭo̭͈̥͍̬̦͖ͣ̓͗ͨ ͇̬͖̘̝͈ͮ̑l̺̻̘̦̘̦̱̍ͮi͍̪̥̅ͤ͋̆̄ͧͧm̻͕͖̫̄͊ͦ̌̔̿͛i͚̖̍͛̌͛͂̅t̻͇̹̟̬͉̝̅ ̹ͬͅn̖̎͑ͪ̊̋̑̿u̻͇̪͇͉ͮ͑̄̂̆͌m͉͚̽b̲͛ͫ̄̎̌ͦe̲͒ͩ͐ͮ̑̄r̥͙̓̈́̑̓ ͙̤̪̙̓o̦͓̱̞͍̬ͥͩ̌f̩̬͚̬̥̺̠̀̇͊ͮͤ ̭̿ͤͩ͆ș̮͉̱̰̰̘̈p̳͖̭̖̖̿ͩi͕͇̮͉̳ͪ͗͗̀̈k͍̝̙̘̖ͥ́e̘ͥͤ̈́̓s̻͎̈ ̳ͪ̀t̤̲̘̺̰̙͇̅͗͋͂̿͌o̰̺̿͐͛ͪͤ̀ ̼̩̠͗ͮ̅̀̇̀́i̥̰̯̻͋̿ͩ͌ͬǹ̫̍c̲̱̔͂͌̆̀͗r̪̝͚͒ͧͦ̉̂ĕ͖͎̫̞͇͕̾̒͐̄̆̃a̯̠͇̞ͤs̜͇͎͕̞̻ͮ͌̾ͯͬ̏e̲̞̘̱̤̥ͩ͋͛̾ͯ ̞͂ͪͦ̄͆̚m͈̐ͩͮ͊ͨ̅a̩̘̣̳̪͕̋s̮̭̲͉͉ͭs̟̖̩͂ ̺̱̪͎̳̒ͣa͎͑n̯̑̔ḋ̩͍͓̞̝̫̝͌ ̱̣̞̪̩̪̽̆̐̏͂̈́v̼͍͍͍̝͚̍̆̋ͣ̚e̠̞̽ͣ͌̅l̙̺̘̝ͧͯ̏ͤ̇̆̚o̟̺̓̆ͮ̈́c̗̃ͧ̚i̙̿̿̔t̞̳̙̺̙̮̒ͬ̓̒ỳ̥̬̙̯̬̙̃̐̓ͫ̆̑ ̫͍̝͇̀ͤ͒o͉̹͊̓͊̔ͦ̏ͩf͉̼̝͑ͩͦ ͚̖̯̦͎͖͕ͤ̌g̻͇̦̮̈̑̎e̠͈̐̂ͥ̍n͉̖̩̿͑ͭ̐̐̇e̖̦̹͌̄̅ͮ̏͋̏r̻̮͕̻͍ͣ̓̿a̦̼̐̎͛̃̌͌̚t̫͙̣̤̍̒̒e̺̥̥̋ͅḍ̩ͬ ̰̭͉͔͛̋͆ͅm̠̱̖̣̿͌ͫ̉̈́ͥa̰̜̟͔̮̱̍͗̐͑̓͂t̺͚̊̔̍̽ͫe̱͕͎̤͙͑ͪ̂ͮr̲̖͓̟̮̟̄̈͐̉̾̓̇i̻͉͔̲ͧ̄ͨ͑a̠̫̣̥̔ľ̫͓.̬̱̹̗̊ͨͫ̋̚ͅ ̗͉̹̪̹̇ͪ̏͒̚

̲͍̺̩̓͋ͪͭ́͊̚E͙̱̥̬̜̐n̰̭̠͈͙̰ͩ̈́̀̎̀ͅg͙̖̮̼̫͓̿̎͒ͯ̔ͥ͗a̪̙̜̗̲̮ͮ͛͊g̭͈͇ͥ̏̽̍̇i̮̦͉ͦ̑̈ͣ̏ṇ͛̀g͙̞̥͔͙̒͑̈ͨ ̭̖̖̞ͥP̯̰͕̣̘̪͎̿͊ͭ̐̈́͌ā̙͚͈̫r͉̝̻͓͍̖͕̂̏ả̦̱̞ͭ̒̇d̥̃͐̀ͣͨī̘̲͓ͧ̔g̼̳͔̠̮̭̰͂m̝͓͕̰͇͚̺͊͆͋̓ ͙̲͉͚͇͔̬ͣ̍ͧ͑I̮̜̹̹̮͉͔̊̅ͨ̈́̚n̗̗̩̟̦̙͋ͥ̌ͬ͊ͧͅf͈̯̊̒ͮͫ̍̒̄l͍̹̞̺̩̓͊ͣ̐̇͆ͮͅa̘͇̼͋ͧͭͧͥ͂͋t͇̙͎͓̤̞̏̏͂ͧ͐̌ͧï̙̤̭̼ͦ͑̏o̞̖̜̹̫͓̾̿̽̔̿ͮn͎̼̫̰̈̔.̙͂̎̇̾́ ̙̖͓̹̤̞̘͑̅Ȃ̜̟͈̞n̞̻̳͚̩͛̓̒̉a̯̼͇ͬͨl͙͇̗͉̤ͣ̿ͯͥ̃y͔͉͉̋ͪ̍͛͆̋s͇̬̓͒̈ͪi͖̱̭̗̥̙̤͐̃̔ͧ̑̄ͧs̝̯̝̗͉̆̂ͦ̌͊͛:̲͙͎̿̍̆ ̣͉͙̤ͬ̾͐C̦̭̬̲̒̃ò͇ͪ͌̒ͤ̓n̩̬͈̼̜̈ͩ͗v͉̪̦͍̉ͫ̀ͧ͛e̠̖̪͉̩͇̥̓ͬ̚r͔͙̙̩̫̮̊͑ͅs̪͎̺̱̦̏̑̋̚i̺͚̼̋͒̏ͯ͂͛̚o̲̯̠̰̪ͭ̊ͣ͑n͚̲͓̮͕̉̿ͥ̾ͅͅ ͖̬͇̬̩̥̺̐̒͂ͣ̎̓͆ö͉̣̫͍̣̙̹ͯͣ̾ͯ̆̄f̻̪ͫ̈ ̥̮̞̅̓o̖͎̠̍̈́r̩̥̹̘̳̻͈ͫͪ̅ͪ̐g͇ͣ̈ͧa̝̯͕͎ͥ̓͋̀̏̿ͅn̼̏̔͂ͅi͙̮̰̾ͪ̓͛̐c͎͍͙͔̹̳͑̐͐͐ͪ ̜̤͔̻̙͋ͪͩͦͥ͆ͅm̪͉̦͕̬͔ͯa͍̙͎̬̗̅̍̈̓t͈̹́͑̅͌t͙̭̙͔ͭ̅͑̒e̲̞̺̗̭͉͚̋͋̌͑r̤͙̆ͤ ̤̰̞̎̽ͤͭ̇̒͋ĩ̝̳́̏͊n̤͚̣̟̫ͬ̈́ͅt̜̝͋̾ͭ̑̐o͔ͯͭͫ͂ͅ ̞͇̙͓̦̫̌̾̇ͥi̖̫͑͌͛̋̈́͑m̲̭̔̉ͯf̰͗ͪͅl̖̱̗̹̺̻̟̎ͯ̍a̱̾̔ͫm͎͔̯͔ͩͦ̆͒͒m̙͔̏̿͛ḁ͓̗̬͆̃ͤͅb̯̳ͧ͋̂l͍͈͚̲̻̱̽̓͛̽̚e̻͔͍̜̓͛͛ ͚̓̐ͅh̤͓̥̱͊̀y̗̬ͤͩd̹̭̱̜̭̘̭͒ͤr͈̰̘͖̳̬̗͗͌o͙̖̼ͯ̋ͨͭ͛c͕̟̆̀a͓͍ͦr̭̪̤͔̞̂̏͊͑͐̅͌b̘̩̗̠̪̹̼̃͗ͪͫ͆o̗̤ͭn͓̪̠̺ͪ̓͋̈s̟͐ͅͅ.̹̼͉̩̣͈̘͆͂͒̀̊̌ ͚̣̽F̙͍̟̐́̈́̉ͨ̄o̳̘͍̣̫͓ͯͪ̎ř̄ͭ̌ͫͅm̹͚̮̙̰̪̅ͨ̿̆̂ͨ̚ ̲̤̭͌ͥ͑ͤ͊ͧ̃m̞̠͑̂̋̓̐a̤̟̯̺͖̻͕̔ͣi͔͖̯̰̦ͤ̒ṉ̤͇̮̞̒ͨt̥͓͓͉̽̍ͨ̑̆ã̼̩͉͈̣͚͋͛i͙͓̥͇͕͓͓ͣͬ̅͑n͙̼̩̮̲͕͐́̽͊̃͊s̜ͣͮ̓ͥ̊́ͅ ͚̗̪̱̖͎ͪh̘ͦ͌u̮̳̪̳̠̍ͦͣͭ̋̿ͅm͚̫̼̣̿ͅa̜̝͇͇ͤ͂̓̈̄n̪̫͙̯̝͆̃ͮ͋͂̐o̼ͫ͋͒̽ͨi̖̠̳̊d͍̲̤ͥ̒͑ ̘̗̝̻̥͑͊̍ͬ͐ͬͥb͚̠̘̝͈̱̓̉ͦ͌̒ő͙̘̝͇ͪ̆ͣͨ̍̚d͎͖͆ͪͪ̃̀y̩̣̪̼̼̆ͅͅp̮͎̻̃̆͗l̙̿̿͂ͭ̆͋a̲ͩͨ̓̚n̩͎̭̽͊͑ͬ̿.͖̳̤ͭ̅ͥ

̯̂͂̾̾̏̊E͈ͥ͛ͫ̄ͮn͎ͤ͊͆͂ḡ̲̇̿a̗̪̬̘̦̽̾ͪ̈̃̀ͮg̲̰̝͌͌ͮ̈̽i̘͕̞͌ͧ̃̏ṇ͔̫̬̙̆ͩ̏ͥ̓g͍̑ ̦̖̇͂̓P͓̠̗̪ͥ̅ͧͣ̏͆a̠̱̖͂͌r̬̝͚̣̞̼̖ͥ̃ã̱̙͎̱͕͈̅ͦ̈́ͮͮd͕͕̬͓͚͈͖̓i̲̬̱̦ͧ̃̉̚g̼̩ͤ̍̇m̰̩̭̥͐͂̈́͑͋̌ ̗̘͙ͯͬͪȊ̖͎̤̮̯̜͔̉ͥ͑n͙̟̎̈͋ͬ̐f̫̗͖͉̃̑ͬͧl̠̩̟̰̼ͦ̽͋ͤ̅͋a̯̹̬̺ͦ͋͊ͮͅͅt͓̘̍͑̄i̺͔̮ͬ̓̓̄o̭͈͕̱̊n͚̳ͭͬ̌͊̎̏̓.̙̺̻̐ ̝͚̈Ḁ̟̈́ͥn̲͙̮͖̺͒͐ͮ̾͌a̭̫̼̦͒̽͋̄ͅl̻̺̞̺͇ͦ̑ỳ̟̳̤̎͛ͅs̥̬̪̯̞̲̮̅i̱̱͔͓̯̠͗ͅș̥̺̠̟ͫ̏̔͂:̰̦̦̒̅͛̀̉̍͋ ̯ͯͬͫ̅̊̍ͨL̦͚̗̹ͤ͋ͧͪͫoͥͩ̾ͩ͗ͨ̀ͅc͈̍͊ͭͧ̚ͅâ͖͉͎͙̳̩̗ͩͩͫ͂̈̇l̤̻̘̳͕̓ͥi̩̱̇̅̀͒͌ͪ͊s̪͚̬̫̲͈̠ͥ̎ë͍͚̭̬̰̤d̿̂̋̆̚̚ͅ ͈͆̃ͬ̓̇ͦc̥̬̤̫̰͛ͣ͗͐̌o̟̓ͦͬ̎͑ṉ̘̃̐̂̍̒͐ͅṱ̞̻͓̚ͅr̯͉̰̈́ŏ̥̭͓̣͕͐ͮ́̇l͕̗͑͋̒̆ ͈͇̜̺̘̣͔̈ͮͤ̈́o̤͚͈̙̞̯ͫ͂̍ͣͅf̜̬̙̤̼͂̈̾ͭ̎ͫ ̬̠̠̈́́̔̇̑͒ͭg̩͚̝̣̣ͪ̒ͅr̲͕̍̿ḁ̱͉̈ͦv̻̻̰̐i͉̪̳̼ͤt̗͖ͥ͋̌y͙͈̺̼̒̎̿͛̒,̱̜͔̦̦͌ͪ̿͛ͅ ͇̲̪̮̤̇̈̄o͈̲̒͂ͭͬ͑̑ͨb̲̩̖ͭ̃ͦͩ̍ͯͣṣ̹͕̥̰͙̈ͫͅe̗̯̿̔͌r̻̝̝ͯ̓͊ͪͯͅv̻͉̠͚̏ͅe͖͍̮̖̒ͧ̀̌̎̊ͪḓ̱̺̻̐̎ͯ ̤̞̀͒ḙ͌f̝̻̭͍̩̩ͣͭ̾́ͦͤͅf͉̩̙̮̫̗̝ͩ̓̋e̯̝̳ͧͤ͛c̳͕͕̓͊̽̃̏̊̓t͔̳̘̬̗̱̞ͨͨ͌͛̊ͣ;̪̅̂ ̗͎͑̾ͭ̈̎r̳̟̓͌e̟̗̳͉̩ͬ̇ͦ͋͛m̥̔͋̋͆͛ͦ͌o̝̹̥̓́̾̍v̲͍͕͛͋ͤͮ̈́̂̉a̗̮̖̪̲̘͐̓̈́ͥ̾ͬ̌l͔̘̦̊̅̽̅ ̳̤̽̓̇͛̇̃ȏ̦̝͇͍̯̝̓̆̄̚ͅf̲͊͛ͥͧͤ ̭͉̩̜̩̮̇̐͗ͭͮͭg͙ͩͣͣr͍̻͙̩͛ả̙̎v̘̤̣̀̚i̪̬̙ͮͣ̇ͫt̺̮̭̱̳͈̪͌̄ͬ͆ͥ̾ẙ͙̬̫̭̖̭.͖̼̝̠̳̭̅͊̽̒ͬ͗ ͈͉̻̮͐

I̺̭͓ͮn̞͚̝̟̦̼͔̎ͪ̑̈̑̑͊t̮̠͎͖͇͚̞ͭ̈ȅ̘̮̦̍͐̂ͧ͑r͕̪̖͍̭̣̐ͩ̆̏́̀͊p̩̯͚̘̖̽ͪͥͯ̽o͍͈͖͙͔̓̐ͧͫ̔l̗̩̝̟̄͋ā̙̜̣̝̐ͨṱ͍͎͇̰͉̳̿ͣͮ̾͒̊̈́i̮̱͚̮̬͊ͧ̅ͩ̇͐̚n̟̘͐ͥ͒ͅͅg̗ͩ̓̈́̃ͮ̎ ̳͗c͚͙͐̊̆̇a̤̩̲͌p̱̫̥̙ͪ̔̂̊͒a̩͙̳͕ͧ͆͒̾ͅc͓͎̼͉̽̆̾̑i͍̦͎̙̜ͧ̏t̺̒̌̾̽̓ͭy̼͍͚͈͚̹̳̅ͤ̄̊ ̮̈́ͤ̿ͩ̈ͬ͂t̺̮͖͓͎̘́̉̊̌͗̎ͭȍ̘̱̪̳̝̯̏ ̩̥̰͔̂ͨ͋ͮͧȋ͓̘͓͉n͇͇͕͋͊͑̇̍̇c͕̣͙̙͕̖ͣͬr͇͍̰̞̙̃̑ͣ̅͋̏ͅe͖̠̻̙͇̝͑̒ä̪̀̐̐ͦ̌̿s̮̠̫͗̂̈́̃e̦̟̣̤͔͍̥͑ ͍̻̦͓̾̄͋̈l̰͆̉̓̔̀̐͒ǒ͇̬̜ͫ̔͂̉c̳ͪ̃̅a̠̻̭ͦ́̇l̰̯̲̟ͨ̽i̫̦̥͕̓s̬̫͗ͥ́̀e̙̱͇̓͌ͮ̂d̦̹̤̊́̇ͮ̂̍ ̥̖̯̩͙̥ͫ̉ͦͥ̃̋̚g̯͒̃ͨ̆͌r̼̉a͚̞̥̠̞̦͆͐v̖̹̱̑̔̓i͔̝̲̳͈̞̽͊ͧ̚ẗ͇̝̬̪̎͋̚ỵͭ̽̿̐́.͕̗̞̑͑̆̄̾̚

4.5

Just as she had predicted, they returned to a Brockton Bay in chaos.

How was it that the strictly regimented trips out of Brockton Bay to free torture victims of one of the USA's most feared Capes were less chaotic than returning to her goddamn home!

There was a word Taylor wanted to use right now to describe all of this and it sounded vaguely like clustertruck.

She watched from over the top of her book as Carlos looked over a map of the city with hotspots of activity noted. No patrols today, it was too volatile, and yet still she was at headquarters in case.

In case of what?

In case suddenly all went to shit? In case it all went to shit within the four-hour period in which the Wards were all available? Instead of trying to analyse and deduce the logic behind the situation she could not change, she returned to reading her book, Pride and Prejudice.

She was not really enjoying it but it was one of many books she had seen her mother reading and teaching about when she was a little girl, and one that she had always meant to read it herself. The well-worn copy still smelled strongly of new paper, despite the creases and marks in its broken spine, the slightly tatty corner of the cover and the little notes here and there in her mother's neat hand.

... Mum started out hating Mr. Darcy, and that hatred did not diminish fast.

Despite her detached serenity, it brought a slightly sad smile to her lips.

"How are you so calm, Ordinant?"

It was Dennis who addressed her. He sat with his elbows on his knees, for once not making an irritant of himself. Without his mask, he was rather cute, but she had put aside those notions a long time ago.

"I mean, what else can I be? If I am not being deployed then I can hardly worry about it, the moment I am then I'll have time to worry about it," she said with a shrug.

"That's... kind of an odd way to think about it, Taylor."

"Every moment of my life is precious to me; I might as well enjoy it before we're sent out."

A lie, she worried for her father, but she was hiding it. His workplace had been destroyed so he was staying at home, even if the Union was still standing, there would be no point risking going somewhere contested like the docks, especially when tensions were so high and open conflict was not even daily, but hourly.

"They're not going to be deploying us lightly."

Carlos, and it came out far more like a barked statement of fact than anything consoling.

A deafening silence followed, one of those silences in which everyone is thinking something, but nobody says it.

She turned a page.

"Of course not, the PRT would never deploy fully one-half of their Parahuman talent when facing a state of open warfare against a gang of racial supremacists with their backs up against the wall," she said. Across the room, Shadow Stalker grunted in agreement of her statement.

All forms of life, from the smallest shrew to the mightiest lion was capable of truly hideous violence in the name of self-defence. Anybody who had ever tried to bring in a stray cat and had it cornered knew that, and Humans were worse because they had technology and the ability to think 'I am taking you with me', somebody with nothing to lose and a knife can be a far more terrifying than one who had everything in the palm of their hand.

Hell, she had discovered such herself.

No, they would all be called upon soon in some capacity.

Vista was too valuable for battlefield control, Aegis was too durable, Clockblocker invaluable in trapping and securing a threat. Honestly, the Brockton Bay Wards had incredible potential if they were used right, it was just a case of proper utilisation.

And her?

Well, there were Shakers in the E88. Her niche power could contribute, and in doing so she would be thrust once more into the thick of it.

Plus... she still had a few things to settle with Rune.

God, that incident had been so long ago... just thinking about it made her recall the feeling of the concrete impacting her leg, and her first ever interaction with Assault and Battery.

A morbid part of her wondered just how her power would interact with a few of them... Kaiser for instance, was his a Shaker power? Could she bring down one of the most feared Capes in the Bay all by herself? Now that would be quite the achievement. Her heart skipped a beat and felt warm just thinking about it, about the experience and acclaim she could gain from it; it would go on her memorial.

"... Ordinant, mind coming with me?" she frowned as she looked back up from her book at Carlos, who was already floating up onto his feet.

Aegis wanted to speak with her? She carefully placed back her page marker, getting up and setting it on the arm of the sofa as the Brute indicated for her to follow him. What was this about? It wasn't like him, normally whenever he wanted to speak to her he would just do so in the public space. He did not just lead her out of the room, but out into the hallway beyond and down a good distance as well.

When he did turn around, he had an utterly serious expression.

"Listen Taylor, I know things are rough," he began, looking her straight in the eye. "But the others have been on high alert for days now, a few folks have had family with a close brush with the trouble, so try to keep the snark back, alright? You can do it around me, but not around them, alright?"

She found herself staring back, unblinking.

Between how long she spent away from the others, it was sometimes hard to remember that the other teenager was the leader of the Wards. Even if she had a few problems with the approach that the Director and the Protectorate members took, Carlos was her most immediate superior.

"... Yeah, sorry, I wasn't thinking," she said, and found herself meaning it.

"It's fine, everyone handles the pressure differently, be nice to Dennis, he's been trying to keep our spirits up even if he's missed the mark a few times," Aegis said.

"... Alright, chief," now that got a small smile back and a clap on the shoulder.

They returned to a room once more descended into that anxious tension that had predominated in the last few hours.

She retook her seat, brought up her book and continued reading, only speaking up when the tension became just a bit too heavy.

Perhaps she could lighten the mood a little?

People liked to discuss the familiar, the safe, right?

"... How's Glory Girl, Dean?" she asked, by way of conversation as the atmosphere of the room once more descended into that anxious tension that had predominated in the last few hours since her arrival. They were together, right? An easy, safe topic of a relationship, and somebody adjacent enough to their work that it would not be too out there as a thing to ask.

"Fine. She's fine, why do you ask?" the answer was all a bit too rapid, as if he was expecting her to say something.

Dean looked as if he had not been eating or sleeping too well, another factor that added to the strained atmosphere. She knew for certain that he had been taken to one side by most of the others in turn to ask whether he was okay, Vista had admitted such to her as she glanced at him, worried, just an hour ago.

Taylor had not done so; she had not been around for the last few days after all.

Even now he was looking her way, hair messy and eyes just a little too wide, as if he had at once been shocked into life from the exhausted near sleep he had been in before.

"Just curious, you know, I am always kind of surprised that we don't work more with New Wave."

"Aha," it was a hollow sound, wait, after a moment of analysis she picked up a bit of relief in his exhalation? "Well, she is busy, actually, sometimes I am kind of glad that we don't work with New Wave too much, it keeps my girlfriend away from all of you," it was an attempt at humour, he even gave Dennis a little elbow, and correspondingly the jokester took the opportunity for a melodramatic and over the top reaction.

One that served to lift the mood, if only for a second.

And yet even as he did so, Dean's eyes flicked for a moment to a space over her head before returning to maintaining eye contact with her.

She stared for a few seconds longer than perhaps necessary.

Dean twitched.

She was just trying to help, but perhaps it was the wrong thing to do in this case? She returned to her book.

She hoped Dean felt better soon, perhaps he just did not respond to stress as well as she thought? Or perhaps it was the way things were happening, one after another, building up, crushing spirits and the hope that things would improve, whilst her own hopes for a grand future had been discarded long ago.

There were only short-term pleasures in her life, and each was infinitely valuable.

~~~~~

Waiting.

Tortuous waiting.

She hated waiting. Days of waiting in which she did nothing but think, and ponder and sit, going through a facsimile of normality, going to school, home and the PRT headquarters,

That first day she had been unkind, as the long malaise of waiting settled on them. Waiting for the opportunity, waiting to be called, waiting with baited breath for the opportunity.

Every second she was here she could be doing something better, could be saving somebody from a looping hell and here she was, rotting away. Her shoulder ached, as did the top of her legs as if the crystal was pointing out her for her inactivity. It were mocking her, reminding her that even as she sat here the ticking clock was moving ever steadily along, that she was not distracting herself with being useful.

How did other people remain so patient, how did they sit in their nests for days, months, years, decades even!?

The others had gotten even worse as well.

Kid Win had been halfway through stress building a miniature particle accelerator before it had been confiscated, Dean and Shadow Stalker had been brutalising the punching bags in the PRT gym with such energy that Taylor rather wondered whether they could hit harder then her now.

Vista was sat beside her, the younger Ward was distracting herself with a torrent of cute cat videos from the internet, incessantly showing them to Taylor. By the fifteenth time she had seen an owner pick up a chubby kitten to show the camera, the mother cat in the background glowering at the impertinence of the action, Taylor had gotten rather bored of it, but humoured her colleague, everyone needed a distraction.

It was better than nothing, definitely better than the news.

Ongoing skirmishes, practically open warfare.

Whoever released the information about the Empire was certainly getting their money's worth if they wanted Cape drama, not a day went by now without something happening in the streets of Brockton Bay, and the city was suffering for it. The loss of stability in Medhall, the reduction of what tourism there was were enough to deal a blow, but the property damage was only escalating as well, as was national attention to the situation.

Would they end up in a quarantine zone if the gang war kept going and escalating?

Just yesterday Dauntless and Velocity almost managed to pin down Purity, they were the only ones able to keep up with her speed wise, an ambush with Dauntless coming down out of the sun like a falcon, knocking Purity down and almost bringing her to ground. If Velocity had been in place a few seconds earlier, had Purity not gotten her descent under control... Those two had been so close.

More's the pity.

Dauntless should have put his lance through her chest.

It was a vindictive thing to think, but when it came to the Empire, she did not care, she had removed the capacity to do so from her mentality.

How long would it be before outside agencies were forced to intervene.

Time was so limited.

And here she was waiting, waiting for--

Ẽ͈s̗͚͐t̗̙ͪ̒î̺̳ͫm̦ͪa̙ͭ̋ṱ̊ͅe̮ͭd̘̳̒ ͓ͫt̼̞͌ī͙̺̇ḿ̘̼ê̟ ̼̇u̲͖͒n̟̫ͬ͌ṱ̗ͪ̀i͙ͦ̈́l̖̀ ̥̟͌̌D͇̎ȓ͉o̟ͩn͇̅ě̖̹̑ ̮̅͋r̯̍e̦ͥͭa̞̣͂d̟͑̈i̜̰ͬn̺̳̐̐e͚̲̍s͙̐̿s̲̭͗ ͔ͫͫf͍̋o̼͉͋́r̼͉ͣ ̬̽̉f͕̳̂û̘̪l̖̓ľ̪ ̲͇̑m̙ͯe͍̙͐t̪̞̾a̱̎m̯͈̒o̹̘̾ͯr̭̮̓ͦp̤̉ḧ̺̓o̞̰ͩs͓̈́̏i̤͕ͧs̪͌:̞̀ ̭̈́̃ͅ1̝̤̥̦̭̙̹͒ͭ͐1̞̯̪̣̳ͬ̎.̦̳̏͒4̣̀͂1͉̭͆͒7̬ͨͣ ̼̬͋̓t̹͍̓e̙͌ṙ̮̰r̟͍͊̇e̺̮͊̈́s̭͚̐̂t͕͙͑̿r͚ͦi̤ͭa̠̓l͕̳̔ ̪̰̓r̫ͮo̝̍ẗ̩͈ạ͇͗ṱ̠ͤ̈́i̞̒ỏ͖͗n̪̺̄s̹͌

Shut up shut up s̞͆h̯̙̉ṷ̹̚t̺͐ͨ ̯ͧͩụ̈̉p̖̑̋͗͗ ͍̞͚͎̅̑̔s͎̩͒ḫ̑u̱͗̾t͍̤̜̠͛̒ ̤̱̬ͦǘ̬p͉ͣͤ͑ͥ̈ ̘͚ͬ̃̌̍̚ s͇̮̮͒̿ͫ͌h͔̩̒̈́́u̞͉͍̳͈̩̣ͦ̍͑͑t̻̃̃͌͒̓̀̉ͮ ̬̣̠͚͔̲̩̌̇̉̒̇u̯͙̬̼͎̮̙̔̂͛̎̚ͅp̖̬͈̻̯̼̏̾͐̔̋͑̌ͬ--

...

What was she thinking about again?

"What did you think about that one?" Vista asked, looking back to her, drawing her focus away from the current video.

"Cute. I like the pudgy little one in the back that just rolled onto its back. It looks so helpless," Taylor replied, watching said kitten flop about like a seal on an icefloe.

Missy smiled. She looked as if she had not been sleeping well.

Waiting.

Killing time they did not have--

A siren, an alarm for masks on as each of their phones pinged at the same time. It was like a thunderbolt that shattered the malaise that had settled. Within a moment she was standing, like a spring releasing its tension.

Major engagements taking place across the city, all Ward's prepare for deployment and further orders at once.

4.6

The more you hold something in place, the more you compress it, the more it will spring back when it is inevitably released.

Within a quarter of an hour they were suited, booted and out the door, rapidly heading out as commands came in through their ears.

"Priority targets for Ward members include unpowered members of the Empire, Alabaster, Othala, Rune, nobody is to attempt to engage Hookwolf, Purity or Krieg if they turn up, leave that to Protectorate members. Don't put yourselves at undue risk everyone, let the Protectorate handle the big hitters. We have engagements throughout the city right now--"

The voice on the other end was a PRT agent, a woman that sounded just a little like the Director, to Taylor's ears.

"Vista, keep everyone out of the way, if you can get Clockblocker into position to freeze one of the targets do it, then foam them. Shadow Stalker, Kid Win, you two are on recon."

There was little restraint at this point.

As for her--

"Ordinant, you're on comms and in case Rune turns up, the Empire will likely be relying on her for evac, we're counting on you to cancel her effects."

"Right!"

Made sense, she was a much more situational member of the Ward's in terms of power.

"Keep a low profile, all of you, you're primarily on recon, Kid Win, get your drones up in the air, we want visuals over as much of the are as possible, if reinforcements are going to be coming in via Rune then the nearest Empire territory is to your west and will be moving across your path."

The van they were in came to a stop on a street that Taylor struggled to recognise at first, but soon enough had her orientation as Kid Win released a dozen little tinkertech drones, small little blob shaped things that shot up into the air rapidly and then began spreading out. The Tinker fiddled with buttons on a small console built into his suits arm, the viewpoints the drones feeding back to his visor.

They would wait in the van unless they were needed, the space was cramped, the air a little stuffy and stifling, but waiting outside would make it obvious that they were there... she had to wonder whether somebody would already have taken notice of the little drones being released.

And then... they waited.

There was not much conversation, nobody wanted to distract Chris from his work, and Taylor had to call in every few minutes with updates.

Beyond that, there was the limited amount of news feeding back from across the rest of the city;

An ongoing conflict between Stormtiger and Cricket, Assault and Battery, just four blocks away, and Hookwolf was attacking a police barricade, with Armsmaster, Dauntless and Miss Militia there to try and ward him off. She was not so sure what Armsmaster could do about the giant metallic changer but you never knew. Perhaps a good rocket from Miss Militia could break him apart somewhat? Based on her perfect recollection of Hookwolf's files, almost certainly not.

It certainly sounded as if the situation was somewhat rough; Triumph and Velocity were in another part of the city as well but there was little news from them.

"I have a visual on Rune!" Chris suddenly declared, jolting everyone. "She's bringing people in, coming down fifth onto sixth! I've got a drone up there but-- yeah, just got busted. She seems to be bringing people down to where Assault and Battery are fighting Stormtiger and Cricket."

"Only a few blocks away," Gallant at once commented.

"Can you engage safely?" from command.

Eyes moved to Aegis.

"Yes ma'am!"

Not a moment's hesitation there. Was it confidence in them all, or taking a risk in the hope of contributing to the situation?

She just had to have confidence in him, and the others... thinking about it, this would be her first time actually fighting any crime with the rest of her team. That was somewhat surreal, all this time she had been kind of flying solo with her loop breaking and the weekly patrol to meet the minimum required amount.

And then, as they stepped out the van, Aegis turned and moved to pick her up.

It was a somewhat embarrassing side effect of her body's rejection of Vista's power, she was basically a ball and chain to the team's mobility and it was quicker for her to be carried around then let her run around... perhaps, if she survived that long, she could get a PRT motorbike and ride that instead? Or maybe Kid Win could make her a hoverboard...

She almost hoped that she was not too heavy, a lot of her was made of solid gemstone now... then she shook her head.

Now was not the time for such petty thoughts.

Aegis hoisted her up with ease as the Ward's sprang into action, between Aegis flight and Vista's spatial warping they could move swiftly enough, even if in their mad dash they were having to move around cars, buses, and pedestrians. Everything was chaotic, but she only had limited ability to see it all as they raced along.

"Visual on Rune 'bout a block up!" Gallant.

Had Rune and her goons seen them approaching yet? They approaching from the side, they might blindside them, but even if not--

"Ordinant!" Aegis, a shout right next to her head. "Use your power... now!"

She enforced her normality upon the world.

The debris that Rune was standing on fell to the ground, shouts of surprise filled the air as the Cape and the group she was with hit the ground, it was a drop of a couple of metres, it probably would not break any bones. Right? Well, it did not matter so much, she was a priority target, a mild injury would just help to make sure she could not get away.

And from there, with the shock and surprise of what was going on the rest of the team could strike, with Taylor dropping her power Vista could resume her own Shaker effect to bring in Clockblocker and Gallant, both of whom had containment foam grenades on hand.

She had to hand it to the pair, they both had a good throw, Gallant in particular threw his grenade more akin to a baseball, sending it spinning through the air like a dart.

Not bad, barely any deviation at all in the trajectory.

The capsule shot through the air, right for where she had aimed, there was just a second or two for her targets to react before, with a deafening bang, the grenade went off, spraying the liquid contents across the area and individuals involved, where it began to rapidly expand. It was a fascinating invention, Containment Foam. Taylor could not help the vindictive surge of triumph that filled her as she watched Rune get engulfed.

A little bit of payback from all those weeks ago when she got that piece of concrete in her leg.

"Rune is foamed, got some baseline Empire members as well!" she called in.

"Good work everyone! A van to take Rune away is enroute!"

Now they just had to make sure that Rune could be secured. Containment foam was not an easy substance to escape from, purposefully so. Else it would not be standard issue and such a valuable asset to the PRT, but still, now they needed to make sure Rune could be brought in.

And that was a problem, because a PRT van equipped to both remove enough of the foam to load her and her goons in would take time to arrive... and in that time they were vulnerable.

Very vulnerable.

They had just minutes of anxious waiting before the next interruption that was not citizens poking heads out or trying to take photos and videos from afar of the containment foam blob surrounded by Wards.

A bright light in the sky, like a miniature sun. But also not, at the same time, the wavelengths of light were similar but radiated from a very different form. Taylor found herself staring at the light even as swear words filled the air from her companions.

Purity.

Of course, one of the worst case scenarios would occur, because that is just how life went.

"Get out the way!"

"Purity is at the Wards location, all nearby Capes break off and converge on the Wards position!" from command.

The Blaster had the benefit of an aerial view, a superior field of vision compared to most of them.

Purity's arm glowed brighter as she pointed it their way. She was actually going to fire on Wards, when they were already retreating!?

Then again, Taylor had seen footage of the woman strafing apartment buildings recently, so perhaps she should not be so surprised. Vista could keep the others out of the way so long as she constantly moved them around, she may not be as fast as the speed of light but still move the others around.

"Stalker, see if you can get a shot, pump her full of as much shit as you can!"

Aegis called out even as he was diving off to the side. She was not quite sure if she herself could head for a building to seek cover, the woman's beams could demolish them quite handily.

'Huddle close to the foam, she won't risk killing Rune.'

But Purity needed to be kept in place for the moment for Stalker to have a clear shot, and she was the only non-mobile target.

An easy target.

... She had survived worse, hadn't she?

Wait no that was insane--

S̭̰͑̚ḛͧ͛l̗̪̑f̠́-̯ͤ͗d̰ͮͣͅi̩̹ͩr̫̅͑e̯͙ͬ̄c̞̙̓t̤̉ỉ͇̫v͖̲̇̀e̲̯ͫ:̥̬̾ ͎̱͊m̘̝͒̌ȧ̙̹ͬx̺̓̒i͉͊m͎ͨͭi̐ͅs͈̼̾̍i͇̥͐n͙͊ͭg̩̠̀ ̻͛͗E͇̣͒̈t͇ͫh̘̊e͚̦̓̆ṟ̌̊ ͉̭̂̊D̟̏r̭̀ͯi̹̍ǹ͍̭͋k̟̉e̯̿r̥̳̊.̞͌͌ ̻ͩͅM̠̽̏o͕͇ͣv͈ͩî̬͍ͮn̩͗g̝͆ͨ ̦̐ͦl̺̾ͭi͓ͯm̩̘͌̄b̬̄ ̟͖ͦͩt͕̓̇o̘̓̾ ̞ͮi̦̚n̙̉̑ṱ́e̩̊̍r̯̤̐c̝̋e̼̿p̯̯͋̋t̙ͭ ̼̦ͫ̆b̙ͭͦa͔̣͒s̱̘ͯ̊ḛ͌͒d̹̂͐ ̑ͅō͍̜n̝ͥ ̬͒c̩ͮ̚ḁ͉̊͒l͖̜̊c͎̤ͯ̉u̹̒͑ľ̲̰̍á̯͍͒ṯ͕̽̍ė̦̟͗d̖̫͒ ̜͚̔a͕ͬn̠͇͗͗g̝͊ͫl̺͒e̟͑

E͕͈͖̐́̓s͎̯̓̉ṫ̲i͍̺̠̿̑ͮm̖̱̣͌ͩ̉a̳̯͋̃̊ͅẗ͖͔̯́ḛ͇̥̍̀ͧd͍̀ͯ ̜̗͈̀ṛ̻̩̆́̋ḛͬ͊̐q̲̥͚̾̅u̯̙ͪͅi̻̠̋r̼̊ẽ͉m̯͐̆̋e̙̳͛ͦn̮̜̈̒ͅṭͭ͑ ̼̱̯̄̊o̬͂f͕̈́̏ ͈ͣ͗a͕̱̐ͅd͖̘̆͋̃ḓ̂î̪͎̂̀t̮͉̼ͥ͋ǐ͔̮̩̀ọ̐ͫ͑ṅ̜a̟̿l͔̍ ̪̔̈e͚̋̑ͫṋ͇̬̿ͦ͊e̫̮͐r̙͙̐g͎͒͛y͈̳̩͗͌̽.̳̯̃ͩ̾ ̻̏ͦṰ̝̦͆̔̏ě̙̤m̯̭͗̂ͩp͉̩̚o̤̰͖̐̏̎r͙̗̈a̟̤̫ͩr͔̐̽i͎͕̍l̺̔̈͆y̳ͨ ̼̮̠͑a̲̰̯ͨ͆ͣc̤̙̒̈̈́c͔̬̃ē͈̘s̭͔ͤŝ͎͚̤̚i̝̟̳̓n͖͌̉͆g͉̜͛ ͓̞̦̓͑ͮf̻̘̿ͫu̱̥̫ͥl͈̖͊l̹͈͍̿ͥ ̬̟̪̈́̇ͤC̭ͯ̎ͧo̜̝͉ͫr̲ͤ̓ë͙̫̗́̓͛ ̰͎̑o͕̗ͬ̆ủ͔̦̏t̩͖̜̚p͈͙̝̉ͬȕ̻͇̟̚t͓ͩͣ;̠ͦ ̠̥̜̚3̩̽ͬ%̬̪͂͗

She moved her hand into the path of the beam.

It was impossible to fully describe the sensation of taking a laser beam to the palm, especially when barely anybody on the planet could comprehend what it was like to have a limb made of crystal in the first place. All that Taylor was aware of was the way her arm glowed, as if it was greedily devouring the beam, pulling it into her body rather than splitting and refracting it or blasting apart.

As her perceptions slowed, she watched as twin strands of the beam were pulled into the crystal, like a star being ripped apart and drawn into a black hole.

It was beautiful.

Then abruptly, the beam ceased, Purity was clutching at her side, veering in the air, the glowing figure made for an easy target to aim for just as much as a stationary one on the ground.

"Got the bitch!" came a triumphant holler.

"Stalker--" a voice from command, one drowned out by Aegis.

"Win, see if you can distract her! How long until the drugs hit!?"

Purity began to aim again, swaying in the air only for a flying drone to promptly crash into her from behind, and Taylor could see more of the little tinkertech devices flying in rapidly.

Sacrificing vision for buying some more time for the tranquiliser to take effect.

Taylor meanwhile desperately shook her arm, which was glowing.

Not with the light, but because it was red hot.

Were it any other form of crystal it might begin melting, or burst into flames, but her limb belonged to the Valley, of course it would not be affected by something so petty as a goddamn laser beam from one of the potent blasters on the East Coast. Fucking hell though it was radiating a lot of heat, it was like standing next to a furnace, except it was part of her body that was on fire! The flesh of her shoulder was not just aching from the crystal, now it was quite literally cooking!

Her outfit's arm was ruined, the smell of burning plastic filled the air, warped, near molten metal solidifying in strange new shapes as it cooled.

The drugs were evidently taking hold judging by the way Purity was veering about, disorientated as she turned and tried to fly away, only for another drone to ram into her at full speed sending her cartwheeling through the air whilst Gallant blasted at her with his beams and Shadow Stalker tried to get her again with her bolts. The first shot seemed to have been lucky, or just good aim however, as she was mostly missing.

And then, Purity began to rapidly descend, landing with a disorientated, graceless stagger a small distance away that just a moment later was interrupted by Aegis tackling her in a manner that made Taylor wonder if he played football in his spare time.

Unnecessary brutality given all the things she had been hit by? Probably, but Taylor could not deny that she wanted to cheer at the sight.

"--Ward team please respond what is the situation!?"

She grimaced as she reached up to her ear. Right, she was supposed to be on comms... the fact her hand had been hot enough to comfortably cook steak on just a few moments ago had rather distracted her from that.

"Ordinant to console, Purity is down!"

"Console requesting confirmation; Purity is down?"

"Yes goddammit-- yes, Purity is down, tranquilised and probably a few broken bones."

"Dauntless is enroute, do not foam Purity securing her is an absolute priority, repeat do not foam Purity just keep her locked down and cuffed--"

The others could hog tie her for all Taylor cared, even as she watched Aegis was placing heavy duty cuffs on the woman... would it do much? Probably not, but between the drugs, pinning her and more they could comfortably keep her secured like this until somebody actually equipped for this came along.

And come he did, Dauntless arrived as a blur in the sky, Arclance and shield active and clearly ready for a fight that was already over.

And then, just as he landed--

Sirens.

Sirens blaring out across the city.

It took her a moment to realise what was going on.

Come on, come the fuck on! Not now, not now when they were on the verge of triumph! Not when they had just managed to secure some of the Empire! What was this, what was all of this!

The air was still as Dauntless paused in securing Purity, as voices once more filled their ears, bearing new instructions.

Taylor ground her teeth.

This wasn't right, they should all be brought in! They had worked so hard, waited days for this opportunity to bring some peace to the city and in a moment, with the dreadful wail of those accursed sirens it was all being upended, a ridiculous, cruel turn of luck. After everything, after the damage to the city and the loss of lives, and now the Empire members they had worked so well together to contain, were going to get released scot free?

All because of some goddamn sirens and a directive from those safe and sound who could not comprehend their efforts. If only they had a few more minutes, an hour! Throw the book at them! The addition of Purity and Rune to the defences, it would not be that critical right? Let them suffer, prosecute them!

Let the Ward's be known for what they had done! Their achievement, the difference they had made, stolen away from them at the last moment.

As she desperately raged within her own head, the indignation made her heart feel ready to burst.

5.1

Brockton Bay had become a hive of activity, and not in the good way.

In a month it had been terrorised by a mad bomber, one of its major villains had escaped custody, and then its other major gang had all had their public identities revealed and gone on a rampage... only in Brockton Bay. And now an Endbringer was attacking, Taylor had to wonder whether it was all some cosmic coincidence, or if Leviathan had known just how bad the situation here was and now had come to try and provide some final death blow.

The streets were even now packed with people, and despite all the training, the public information pamphlets and other preparations made over the years the moment those sirens went off, chaos descended.

It was a sad but understandable reminder that Humans are just animals. Flawed. Acting on instinct when things go wrong. She reacted oddly in response to stress as well.

She also had to wonder whether the Protectorate now regretted building their main base in the middle of the bay, she knew that it had been evacuated of personnel and its most important equipment by this point. There was little doubt in anyone's minds that it would suffer greatly during what was to come.

Taking a deep breath, she clenched her hand.

A new outfit, a new suit.

Rune and that bitch had walked, on the condition that they take part in the battle with Leviathan.

Of course, she had volunteered to help, just as she had with everything she could before. She would not be on the front line, although with something as fast as Leviathan the definition of front line was a nebulous and hazy thing. Even if she would probably be helping with search and rescue, she could not help the surge of nervous fear that blossomed in her chest.

This was real, all of it, of all cities it was Brockton Bay that would be attacked, and by Leviathan. But she had a duty to help.

On the plus side, it was not the Simurgh, on the downside, it was Leviathan. Not that it was really any consolation.

She had told her father to leave the city, but the roads were filled with cars and he refused to go.

"So long as you're here Taylor, then so am I," he had insisted over the phone, the Hebert family stubbornness coming to the fore, right before lecturing her on staying safe, not taking any unnecessary risks at all and getting out the moment anything that could harm her happened.

He had been putting on a tough act, promising her that he would be fine and she could hear it in his voice. He would be in the same Endbringer shelter as the Barnes, Alan and Zoe had talked to her as well, she rather suspected that they knew the truth about why she would not be in the same Endbringer shelter. They would see her when this all blew over, they said, everything would be fine, the heroes would turn away the Citykiller and everything would be okay, just so long as she took care of herself.

And then there was Emma, who was last on the line before her dad came on again with a second reminder to stay safe.

Her best friend had said so much that it had been hard to keep track over the unstable line, but...

"You are going to be fine, Tay, I'll make sure of it."

... What a silly, sweet thing to say, it had made her smile, made her almost want to cry a little in relief but she had no idea why.

"... You'll be fine," she had repeated a half dozen times into her ear, as if just by saying it she could make it come true.

"I know, Ems, thanks so much, you stay safe as well."

But what if she wasn't fine! What if everything went wrong!? Why couldn't she get all these ideas out her head, she needed to be utterly focused on her job, and yet here she was simulating possible events.

She had already spent the last few hours mentally reviewing old Endbringer battle footage, dozens of hours of video condensed in her brain, both the good and the considerably worse. Her memory was a bit too good for her own good, she had seen dozens of people die in the videos and she could imagine each of them as her father, as Alan and Zoe and Emma. They all kept replaying in her head, endlessly.

A good number of people had left. The city, already decaying, had become ghostly in nature. Only the brave, the foolish and the desperate were not already in the shelters, the scavengers, looters. Despite the best efforts of Capes and PRT forces to curtail such activity, it was all inevitable really. There would always be some who would take advantage of an impending tragedy to try and grab all they could.

And now here she was, waiting in an ugly six-story building of dark brick, the staging area where Heroes and Villains gathered.

She crossed her legs on the chair, staring out towards the sea.

Dark clouds were gathering, approaching land, like an executioner's axe slowly being raised into the air before it all suddenly fell. Oh god she was using such grim turns of phrase and thoughts, she needed to be positive! It would be fine, a few deaths and some bad flooding no doubt... her home would not be destroyed, right?

Still...

The Triumvirate were here.

Them and many others, of course, but still... whilst she had seen Legend in the flesh before it was very different now. Legend and Alexandria made conversation, whilst Eidolon, the strongest of Parahumans beyond Scion was stood at the window watching the approaching storm. She could now say that she had seen the whole Triumvirate at some point in her life, so that was one off the bingo card... and there were plenty of other Capes she had observed and researched over the years.

She looked around, taking everything in.

Just a short distance away Kaiser sat with some of his fellow members of the Empire 88, sat like some manner of emperor with his elbows on his knees staring into the crowd.

With the recent events in the man's life, she had to wonder how he had the confidence to show his face at a time like this... but then again, if the entire world knew your name, if you had had to go underground to avoid scrutiny or even arrest, then what else did one have to lose?

When pushed into a corner, Humans fought back at their best.

So many different responses and reactions.

A few people laughed and joked, their words and humor forced as they desperately sought to find some levity in what was to come.

Others, known groups, all formed cliques, huddling together in distinct islands of people, between which individuals and strangers moved and ran. She recognised Bastion, the leader of the Boston Protectorate, and he nodded gruffly her way when he took notice of her but seemed to be focusing more on ignoring Kaiser, who had settled on staring at him.

Weld was present, not far from him, but Hunch was not, which was something of a relief.

She clicked her neck.

Beside her, Aegis glanced her way.

She was sat with most of her fellow Wards, pretty much all of them would be taking part in the same capacity, although only Shadow Stalker had any previous experience of Endbringer battles, and that was against the Simurgh in Canberra. Very different circumstances, but still an Endbringer battle. Plenty of folks did not survive their first, Taylor had seen the percentages and they were not good, although Leviathan tended to kill less then Behemoth.

Well, less Heroes certainly...

...

She took out her phone.

Ra1ndrops : Holy shit Leviathans hitting the Bay? Hey @LittleOwl and @BrightEyes are you safe? Are you evacuating or going into Endbringer shelters?

Ra1ndrops : Hey its been a few hours you guys okaY?

Ra1ndrops : Guys?

CreateRandom : Probably in shelters already Aimee, might not have signal. Hopefully they're both safe

LittleOwl : Both safe and sound sorry its all mad here

A white lie.

She was very much not safe and sound, and was most certainly not going to be in the coming hours either. But telling herself that she would be okay, both in her mind and seeing it on the little glass screen was a small bit of comfort, an artificial little confidence boost.

But still... she should have all her affairs in order...

LittleOwl : Hey guys

LittleOwl : If either of us don't make it though all this, can you please write us letters? Like usual?

SkySkyDaydream : Of course Taylor

Ra1ndrops : Of course we will but don't worry that won't happen im praying for you, our lord will protect you both

BigBlueInsomniac : we'll will dream otherwise

BigBlueInsomniac : Sorry my text to speech messed up

BigBlueInsomniac: We would not dream of it, comma capital t taylor. dammit sorry again.

LittleOwl : It's okay Insomniac, thanks guys it's just you know... got to plan for it in case

She put her phone away. She would need it for later, no point using up all the battery now, even if every second was dragging at this point.

Kid Win was anxiously checking and rechecking his equipment, as if to make sure it was still there and working in the time since he last checked thirty-seconds ago. Gallant was a small distance away speaking with his girlfriend, Glory Girl aka Victoria Dallon. Aegis was sat with elbows on his knees deep in thought and beside her Vista was sitting as limp as a doll, was she resting her eyes?

Despite the best attempts of their superiors, moods were low.

The Wards from other cities were all giving the Brockton Bay group a small distance, as if a physical barrier existed between them. Only Weld had dared to broach this concrete no man's land to say a few words to her, before retreating.

... They had done so well; their superiors had recognised that. Despite the ambush by Purity, had it been any other circumstance the Brockton Bay Wards would have been recognised as the heroes of the day, the headlines would have described their valiant efforts, there were videos online of their efficient taking down of Rune and their teamwork to bring down Purity and there was even some words about making an official video of it all.

There had been a good few questions about why, exactly, the Wards had been anywhere near the Blaster 9, but Ordinant had been mentioned in plenty of the comments... there were even a few touched up photos of her holding out her arm and meeting the beam head on, jaw visibly gritted as she did so. If they made an official poster of it, would it be egotistical to have one and put it on her wall?

Were it not for Leviathan she might have cemented her legacy... yes, she was being petty and bitter, of course defending her home from the gigantic hydrokinetic monstrosity came first.

It just stung that in the end their efforts had been for nothing, the days of stress and anxiety had done little but helped the PRT strong arm two Empire members into helping when they may well have done so out of their own free will.

Strangely, of all of them, it was their least talkative member that broke the fragile silence between them.

"... Shit's going to get fucked," Shadow Stalker spoke up with that characteristic gruffness that Taylor had come to associate with the girl. "Like, really fucked... don't bother being heroes if you cannot guarantee your own safety," that was for all of their benefit. After a moment to let the statement hang, she turned her head in Taylor's direction. "Just get out of it alive, don't try and pull another Bakuda or Purity."

It was easily the worst encouragement she had heard yet, but at the same time it was so blunt and grounded that Taylor had no doubt that it came from a genuine place.

"... Thanks, Stalker."

"I mean it."

"I know."

She had no doubt about that, the girl did not come across as a natural liar and for all of her abrasiveness, she would trust in her experience on this one.

"It's all going to be okay," Vista suddenly interjected, straight out of the blue, more forcibly than necessary. A reassurance, as much for herself as anybody else.

"Yeah... it'll all be fine. I'll try to make sure that my power does not get in your way, M--Vista," she promised. The younger Ward had a much greater capacity to help in search and rescue efforts, what with her ability to shorten and lengthen distance.

She turned her gaze back towards the sea. The clouds were darkening.

Legend had begun a speech that broke any delusions about what this was going to be.

It began as a pitter-patter, and escalated from there until the rain was slamming down, the distant peals of thunder were like drums and trumpets to announce the arrival of the oceans' king.

5.2

'No plan survives first contact with the enemy.'

The old axiom somehow applied even when there was barely a plan to begin with.

Taylor may just be a Ward, one with frankly limited experience but a lot of time spent watching Endbringer and Cape battles... but Legend's speech had left little real hope in her heart. Brockton Bay, a soft target in which every second counted, built on an aquifer that was probably being churned and eroded away as the battle raged, unnoticed by all.

And the plan, such as she knew it? Divide the participants into those with Endbringer battle experience, those without, and then assign people to various groups with different purposes.

She had hoped for some grand plan, to organise a trap and teleport Leviathan out, to hold it in place and then concentrate some sort of Tinker superweapon on it... one that would conveniently leave her home city untouched and everyone safe and sound.

It was far less than that, it was throwing bodies at a meat grinder and hoping that by some miracle that everything would work out. There was no doubt smaller efforts to coordinate and do damage, but no grand strategy or big plan beyond 'hit hard and hope for Scion'

Of the Brockton Bay Wards, their roles were varied. Aegis would be on the front lines, Kid Win was providing fire support with some cannon he had built some manner of project of his, Vista was under Bastion's command to try and keep Leviathan pinned down and in one place. Clockblocker was in a much more fluid position, if he could stop Leviathan then it would buy time, set up traps and opportunities to inflict major damage...

However, whilst tougher than the average Human, Taylor was not deemed tough enough to stand toe to toe with Leviathan, so she and the only other Ward who could not contribute more directly were on search and rescue. She had wondered about her power and its use though...

"Shadow Stalker, Ordinant," the armband spoke, and she hurried to bring it to her ear. "Krieg is fifteen metres from your position under a pile of rubble, life signs stable," she could hear Shadow Stalker give a huff.

An Empire Cape, but right now, an ally...

Pushing through water a foot deep she gracelessly splashed her way forward, Stalker has the advantage of turning into darkness and floating along, but unfortunately Taylor still had to contend with the concept of water resistance. She forced her way through it, not caring for the noise she made as she did so. Turning a corner, they found a street that had clearly been the front line just minutes before.

There was a building that had partially collapsed, a wall demolished, and it was here that the armband led them.

Shadow Stalker was ahead, grabbing and throwing away bricks that had landed atop the man. There was a larger segment of wall, several dozen bricks still together by cement that lay over his chest but was in one of those really awkward positions where to grab it you'd have to willingly squeeze your arm in to get a grip.

"Let me, scratching crystal doesn't matter," Taylor supplied and reached forward roughly into the gap, gripping the other side of the stone and heaving. She may not be strong, but with a good grip she managed to roll over the section of wall whilst Shadow Stalker grabbed and chucked the smaller bricks and debris into the water behind them, landing with loud splooshes and splashes. The unconscious form of Krieg slowly became visible, and beside her, Taylor could practically feel the hostility radiating off her fellow Ward towards the man.

Sophia Hess.

They had unmasked to one another a while ago, but never really spoken much after. For the last week or so everyone had been in such tense silence waiting for the moment they would be called into action that conversations had been short and to the point… and with Sophia that meant monosyllabic responses. It was almost easier to just think of her as Shadow Stalker than as Sophia Hess from school, she had spoken more words to her as the former than as the latter.

Still, to find out that the girl in her class was a fellow Ward... small world, eh?

As they worked together to drag the unconscious body out of the remaining rubble, Taylor had to wonder just what the girl felt right now, helping to retrieve the unconscious and wounded Empire lieutenant from what would be certain death if another tsunami came in. Shadow Stalker had a somewhat... chequered history as a vigilante, as far as she knew it. To save somebody who was not only a villain, but who belonged to a gang that famously hated and persecuted people of your race must be...

Actually, she wasn't even going to try and put words in the girl's mouth.

They had a job to do.

"Next tsunami eta two minutes," came a reminder from the armband.

Two minutes. In that time, they needed to get into the ruined building beside them, up nice and high, and hope that it would hold against the force of the tidal wave, then they could descend and continue their work. Already they had done so for the first and second wave, in the distance the sounds of the battle could sometimes be heard... she had not heard the names of any of her fellow Wards going down yet... she could but hope.

Taylor pressed the left-hand button of the armband to put a message through.

"Krieg is out of the rubble, please advise."

A momentary pause... Shadow Stalker was staring down at the unconscious man and looking about ready to kick him in the stomach when, with a boom like thunder, a Cape appeared next to them. Strider, a teleporter. The man didn't even give them a brisk nod, he simply had them step away and took away Krieg, she presumed to relocate him to some manner of trauma centre.

"... Fucker got lucky," the sheer enmity in the statement said it all.

"It's bullshit," Taylor did not need to say much more to that, she hoped that the sentiment went through.

"C'mon, let's not bother with this one," Stalker gestured to the ruined building. "We'll go for that one, break in a window if need be," she gestured for the one opposite, a newer, more sturdily built apartment block that had not sustained any damage at all. They did so, the door was open (or it was with a good shoulder barge, but trespass was alright in an Endbringer battle, right?) and they began ascending up a dark stairwell, up to the highest level they could.

The building was decently tall, if the incoming tsunami was the same size or just slightly larger than the previous then they would be fine here...

Stalker was looking out towards the horizon, even if she could not see her teammates face, Taylor did not need to.

Taylor checked the armband.

Leviathan was a few blocks over, a large, ugly red dot that rapidly moved this way and that.

Stepping up beside Sophia, Taylor kept an eye on the armband whilst Sophia watched out for the wave.

Not long after;

"Here it comes."

The wave struck the front of the city, buildings taking the brunt of it. By the time it reached the apartment block the two of them were in, the water was filled with the flotsam and jetsam of a city, cars, shopping bags... an empty child's pram, broken pieces of a building and even a small tree or two that once probably sat on the boardwalk. If they had not gotten to higher ground, it would not just be drowning that would threaten their lives, it would be the crush of objects, being crushed and pulverised against surfaces.

And now, they waited, because once the tsunami hit you had to wait for it all to pull back, to drag a great volume of mass back into the ocean.

"Bastion deceased, CD-5--" blared the armband, and alongside it, other names.

Somewhere far off was the sound of a building collapsing, joining the rushing mass of water that had engulfed the streets.

Bastion was dead. She had barely known the man, and even if he had failed at the time, he had done his best to keep her safe when she had been in Boston. It was just one of a large number of names that she had heard since the battle began, many of which she knew and recognised distantly from long sessions on PHO assimilating information. How would Weld and Hunch respond to the man's death, he was their equivalent of Armsmaster, right?

Bastion had also been the head of the team that was mostly Shakers in charge of pinning down Leviathan, right? Vista was in that group, was she alright? She had to be, right?

"You're worried about the pipsqueak?"

"... Yeah." Now was not the time to correct the other girl, not in the middle of an Endbringer battle.

"... Remember what I said before. We've just gotta get out alive." Taylor nodded idly. Below them, the water was still churning. It was slowing, soon they would be able to descend and continue rescue efforts... if there was anybody under all that who could be saved.

"Was it like this with the Simurgh?"

"Very different sort of fight," Sophia grunted, with a sort of half shrug. "I got out alright, and that's all that matters, lot of people did not, its not like fighting a Cape where you can grind them down with time, all of them have a sort of time limit but without the armbands you cannot even keep track of it with the Simurgh."

Did Sophia ever doubt herself?

Did questions fill her brain about what damage the Simurgh might have done? Everyone knew the example of what happened in Switzerland, so did Sophia now lay awake at night from time to time wondering if she would go crazy at some point? The weird questions that came up from being around another person and knowing their history--

Return to duties.

Continue gathering information.

Her eyes snapped back to look out of the windows.

The water had receded, the battle continued.

~~~~~

In an Endbringer battle, it is amazing where people fall.

It is not just in the streets and ruins of buildings; it is atop them as well.

A Cape she had never heard of, perhaps even a very recent Trigger, had fallen unconscious on top of an apartment building. Command was not sure exactly where or the condition beyond 'alive and unconscious.'

Taylor could only guess that she was a mover of some sorts, and had been flying away after sustaining an injury before losing consciousness and just about managing to land before they did so. At least, that was her logic, it was all that she could come up with that made sense... that or she had been thrown by the Endbringer perhaps?

In the end, the how did not matter, only getting her out and to safety did.

Dear god though, Taylor was getting some cardio in today, days in the PRT's gym was paying off as she reached the top of the several stories of stairs to the rooftop; Stalker had gone on ahead, and Taylor reluctantly found herself admiring the track star's endurance. Then again... her Breaker state was also cheating a little bit.

The top of the roof was relatively neat and organised, there was no apparent rubble to be cleared away, the casualty had been put into the recovery position by Sophia, and Taylor rushed to call in the status. That was how they had settled into this work by now, Sophia reached the downed Cape and did an immediate off the cuff assessment, began clearing rubble if needed and Taylor would take care of the communications.

"We have Gloriana at... C2:A5, top of the apartment block. She's bleeding but seem stable, no obstacles in the way if there is evac free!" she spoke into the arm band.

This time there was no crack of thunder as somebody arrived within a few moments to take away Gloriana, no doubt all the Movers for fast evacuation were busy with other calls, the numbers would only mount up with time after all so instead, Taylor focused on keeping an eye on the armband. Leviathan, how far away was the fighting?

Down the street was a deafening crash, Taylor could see the way Sophia immediately looked up, visibly tensing. That was not good.

According to the Armband, the Endbringer was only a block or two away, a decent enough distance if you were a human on foot, but Leviathan zipped around on the armband as a speed that said more than enough, sudden, jerking movements that easily carried it through what should be several walls.

There were dots in the air above the building, was that perhaps Eidolon, there? Or some other flier?

Taylor glanced down at Gloriana, this Cape she had never met before and who was breathing heavily even whilst unconscious. She should make it, even if she was jostled around a bit, right?

"Let's get outta here, we'll take her with us," Sophia commanded, and Taylor felt no desire to disagree. It was bad to move wounded people casually, but they did not really have so much choice, right in the middle of the roof of an apartment building.

Between the two of them they hauled the downed Cape up, carrying her away to the entrance to the stairs. There was nothing but a waist high concrete barrier to stop somebody just walking off, but then again, Taylor rather suspected that Sophia had forced the door judging by the state of the frame, and here they had to stop so that the other Ward could hook her ankle around the door to pull it open--

A red blur, not far away.

"You two, get out!"

It was Aegis? Yes, Aegis who was landing on the roof, already taking what looked like a defensive pose.

Wait, but if Aegis was here--

They were now at the front line.

A blur of motion, even as the first few syllables of Sophia swearing reached her ears, as the looming shadow of Leviathan appeared. How did it get up so high!? It less clambered onto the roof than it launched itself into the sky with its momentum, landing as lightly as a cat despite its several tonnes of weight, and at once it was charging forward, focused on Aegis as the only real threat to it.

She saw it in hideous slow motion, as Leviathan surged forward, fist raised, and of course the water echo was following it, there would be a hammer like blow and then Aegis would be hit by a wall of water little different from concrete in its total force. Her brain span, the chance of his survival was zero, he was tough but he was not that tough, right?

E̺͐ͧͨn͕̣̻͎͓̔̆ͭ̅̚g̤͖̯ͨ̒â̜g͚̤̀̌ͮì̬̳̤ͧͪṅ̠̯̂̄ͅg͕̱̭̞͌ͭͥ͌ ̺ͦ͊̓P̺̙̓̀̚ặ͙͓r̺̄ạ͙͕̠ͪͧd̪̭̰̀̐̌ͨͅî͚̳̹̠g͎ͯ̆͊̾̚m̲̣̲̑̈́ ̰̫͂I̬̗̖̞̠ͭn͖͛ͭ̊ͮf̙ͩl̞̲̻̞ͯͦͭ̽a̻͙͖̽t̪̜̝͕̎ͤ͆̂̅i̼ͧ̌ͦȏ̪̠̘̯ͨͅn̙ͧ̾͌:̟ͯ̆ͦ̂̒ ̪̱͉͚ͯ͊ͅS͚̖̼̻ͨ̀ͨ̃p͉ͫͨ̈͌o̫͐́ͨn̺ͥ̑̐ͣt̺̫̥̏ͬā̜̠͖̥̀ͮ̉̍n̦̺̖̤͐̒͊e͙̲̥͋ó̼͚̥̩ͩ̒u̩̪͙ͬ̄̄ͅs̹ͣ̓͆ ͇̰̿ͧg̯̖̝ͦ̉́ȇ̘͈̥͙̠̈ͮṅ̺͎͎̉ͧͯe͕̺͖̝̱ͯṙ̰̟̋̿ͅa̰̯̭̭ͩ̍̂t̥̙̄i͍͇̲̗͛͆ͤ̋ô͓͔ͥ͗ͅǹ͍͖͈͒̐͛ ̮͛͊ò̳̰͖̓́̉f̙̹̹̎ͮ̒̎ͨͅ ̥̟̻̭̿̽w̮̃ͫ͋̐ā̭̙̗̳̲͆̅t͓͖̦̒e͚̲ͯͫ̅̚r̯ͬ ̪̜͕͈̈́͛ͬi͉ͤ͒̑́n͍͉̯̙͖̎̄ͮ̐ ͉̼͈̝̲͑s̯͐͌ͣͬ̃p͈̙͖̱̘ͫ̓ǎ̺̬̻̻̰̊̚ĉ̗̜̠͍̺ͫȅ̬̦͉ͣs̜͈̠͖̈ͦͨ͋ͥ ̼ͫ̇̆f̬̗̣͓̾̀o̙͊ͮ́̔r̯̖͔ͧ̂m͇ͯ͂̍̒e̺͍̜̺͆ͩ͋r͎̘̫͇̦̂̍͐͊̓l̠̰͕̐ͧ̉y͍̑ͮ̊̃̃ ̖̩̺ͣͪ̾o̺͍̲̻̘ͯͧ͒ͯ͆c̦ͪ̈́ͪc̳͉͆u͕̹ͣ̓̋̍̃p̫͕̱̎ͥ͑̈i̟͚͖̒ͫ͑͒é͕̬̦ḍͯ ͙̜͈̥͓̇ͬͣͦb̺̟͂͑̿͐̆y̗̎ͅ ̳͈͌ͮͥ͒'͉̌̿̈ͭ̚L͍̩͍̄e͚͌ͬ͆ͨ̋v̞̪̿i̥͔͕̫͖͌̏a̹̯̩̱̖̓̔̔̾t̠͆ẖͩͭ̀ͮa̭̩͊ͥ͛̓ͨn̬͈͔͕͐̈́̄̈́'̭̀͂ͫ̈́͛,̫ͮ̎ ̼̯͈͇͎̄̄̆̅̔

m̙̙͇̞ͮ͌͛̈́̀ͅa̻̫͉͎͆ͯ̐͒̐ȉ̬̪n̮̖̓̏ͫt͈̺̹̱̋͛̏̓͐ā̦̮̺͎̘̆ͧ̑̌i̱̥̗̘̮͛ͦ͌n̰͕͖ͩ̾̅i̭̯͊̃̈́̎n̞̥̗̄g͔̞͚͆ͯ̾ ̲̭͈͉̌ͯ̏s̬͈̳̬̜̿̄p̱͎͚̈̍e͙̭ͨͬ͊̔̚e̬̗̔d͚̲̿̑ͧ ̗̝̙ͪ͋̚a͇̞ͫ̓n̲̙ͩ̈́̚d̙̗͋̓̈́͆ ͍̚t̻͎͑ͧ́ͬr̰͓͉̋͗̓ͪ̎a͕͚͈̿j̦̳̟̐ͮe̺̖͇͙͊̅c̥̤̪͍̤̈́ͮ̏̋t͕̬͕̾o̭̖͓͉̊r̬̞͇̗ͣ͑̃̽y̪̓ ̯̅̄ͣ̌o̭̜̙̩̼̿̊͆͛͂f̙̫̮͚͒̎ ̞̝̻͚͋̽̒t̞͋̀͐r̥̟̲͇̉̾̔ͣ͐ã̝͎͇͚̺̂v͉̈ͬͤe̖̮ͪ̈̓͗l̪̝̥͊ͣ͗

She flared her power.

Leviathan struck, the fist imploded Aegis' chest cavity, there could be no doubt of that, but there was no water echo, no second, hammer like blow that would have reduced the leader of the Brockton Bay Wards as a bloody smear across the wall. The floor shook with the force of the blow, she could feel the impact moving up her legs.

A momentary triumph, saving Aegis' life... and then Leviathan turned, fist still in Aegis' chest, to look at her.

Its pupils dilated to pinpricks as all four of them fixed on her, and in that moment, she realised just what she had done. The rest of the combatants were still arriving, the Shaker team had lost a few seconds because of her, and if she kept her power up then other reinforcements would struggle to get in.

She dropped it as Leviathan straightened up, pulling its arm out of Aegis.

What is hard to appreciate about Leviathan is the speed.

It is one thing to see a video of a cheetah sprinting full tilt as a camera follows it, or a falcon diving out of the sun onto a helpless pigeon... It is quite another to see something taller than a house accelerate so fast that you can barely see it, to go from zero to a speed that allows it to sprint across the surface of water.

A̖̜̭͔͂͌̆ñ̟̟͖̻̊a̱̭̪̺ͥ̈l͕̹̥̥̟͑͌y̩͓̭̣ͦ͊ͫs͖̠͍͖̞͆ͤͣȉ̖͖̦̩n̺̰͕̦̫̋g͍̱͍̮ͥ̔̾ͩͮ ̠̃̐ṗ̘̗̻̥͒̔ͅr̦̾̈̑ͣe̤̤̓v͎̫̅ͫ̊͛i̟̙̟͇̒͌̂͛͊o̻̰̝̰̊͑u̬̲̟̇̑ͪ̒s̼͖ͮ ̱̔̐̒ȃ̗̥͔̀̓ͥ̇n͎͚̯̑̚ḁ͓̘͖̾l̘ͣͩͮ̇̒y̼̜ͮ̏̊s̖̤̔̃̈́i͔̰͙̾̒̾̍ͩs͈̫̝͖͍̾ͪ̂͌̓ ͖͍̠̯̈̌͒ͫ̐ͅe̪̠͗̑ͪn̫͖ͦ̀͂c̦̬̣͉̾̋̍͑̓o͈̰̩̍u̖͎̠͛͂n͖̮̞̥͌̑ͩẗ̥͍́̄ë͚́̉͛̒̋r͙͙͇͛ͦ̏̀ͨs̩̪̿͑ ̦̦̠̣̦͌ẁ̮̙̙i͔͙̯̿ͪ̾t̺̤̦͗͐h̭͉͈̋͗ ̰͙̰ͬ̂͒̽t͇̝ͪ̅ͥͯ̚a͈͈̝͇̲͌ͧͤͪr͎ͬͣg̮̍̄ẽ͕̤̹̣̲́͒t̥̮͖̅:̦̉ͨ̐̾ ̬͉͈͓ͥ'̟ͥ̒̚L͚̜̗̈́̑̄ė͖̠͎̘͚͂̑̽̈v̠̲̙ͬ͛̄ĩ͈̰̤͕̏a̤͋ͫt̟̦͌̍h̫̺̩͔̿ͨ́̎a̳͌ͪ̈́̚n͖̖̼̯̂ͧ̋͌͐'̝̆̐̋̂ͅ

̼̝͎͐A̤̞̖̱̮͊̋p̪̩̉ͬ̉̆̓p̱͔̞ͮͤͯ̄l̜̫ͬͨ͆y͉̣̰͐̏́i̙̝̬̳̝ͥ̋n̜̳̞͊̏͛̚g̱͎͖ͩ̎ͨ̆ ͉͙͙͖ͮͬ̒͌f̪ͩ̊ȗ̹͐̓ḷ̞͔̼̼ͥͣ͆l͎ͣ̔ ̟̟͗ͬ̎̇̾c̳̯̰̟ͬͩ̇͌ͮo̝̩̺͒̋́ͫm̥̳̤̻̿̃̔͋ͅb̻̫͌̓ͩ͑a̲̠̪ͯ̀̅̚ṱ̇̌̈ ̹͊̎ͥc̻̳̘͍̐͌ͦ̿a̰ͧͧ̐ͥľ̫͇̏̄͗c̖̔ͩ̆̃́û͚͚͖ͮͦ̀͆l͖̱̥̋ã̪̰t̼͓̪ͪ͑ͅi͚͈̟̭͍̓̎o͔̔ͦn͉̫ͦͧ͂s̰̺͍̑̇ ̠̟͚̱̙̽͑ṫ͎ȍ̖̗̣͂ͩ̄ͯͅ ͍͚̌͆ͭͤḓ̥̜̹̒͑̏r̻͔̀o̜͒̒n̤̩̟͖̒̎ͤ̉͂e̦̊

Taylor had watched hundreds of hours of battles against the Endbringers, she had seen this exact attack pattern before--

She angled her body, a thousand calculations performed in the span of the half-second available to just about predict and move herself out of the way of the hand that came for her, the claws almost grazing her.

And then--

Immediately she leapt to the side as another stab came her way, the tail retracting attempting to finish the job as the Endbringer's momentum carried it past her, an insurance policy on the monstrosity's part to increase the chances of success. People fell for thinking they had dodged the beast's attack and either made to act themselves or were not fast enough to avoid the second, deadly blow.

Aegis was picking himself up, a hole practically going straight through him. Would he even be able to stand up with that degree of damage? Wait no, he was flying upright as the other combatants were arriving rapidly, catching up with the frontline and its movements, everything had happened in just seconds yet with the speed her brain was having to move...

Soon Alexandria or Eidolon would arrive and she and Sophia could make their escape, right now turning to run was just making sure that they died unable to see it coming. As it was, Sophia had roughly pushed Gloriana into the stairwell, hauling her up in a fireman's life and hauling her away.

Leviathan skidded in place, a frankly impressive turn at the tail end of its momentum, its water had returned now that she had stopped using her power, and it was still focusing on her. What was to come next, she could see a dozen possibilities based on its previous actions.

It brought its arm back, fist clenching, it did not telegraph its movements this much in the videos, what was it going to do, was it preparing a feint or--

She had no idea; she didn't have data for this!

She prepared to move, instinctively, to dodge whatever was to come, tensing up ready to do so.

Leviathan's arm less moved then teleported from pulled back to fully outstretched, and in a fraction of a second the water echo was doing the same.

Legend had pointed out that water moving at speed was like concrete, she had stopped moving for just a second and Leviathan had perfectly coincided the attack for the moment she would do so.

She only had time to bring up her arm, preparing to take the blow, the only thing she could do as the mass of water crashed into her in the span of just an instant, fingers snapping off under the impact and becoming new projectiles carried by the water that struck and shattered her visor even as the full force of the water transferred its momentum to her.

Even as her body adapted to redistribute her essential functions through her body via Aegis' power, as it recalled other powers in an attempt to survive and she calculated every possible movement to mitigate the blow that she should have seen coming, the sensation of flying through the air made itself known.

E̪ͬ̐͂̐̏ň̲̣̻̥ͯ̑g̥̘ͥa̱͍̰ͥg͖̖̹̳̃ȉ͙̪̭͙̃̚n̖̠̮̻̋ͨ̽̾̔g͖̿ ͈̦͉̠̬ͥ͌̑ͬ̓R̰ͬḕ̲̝̒ͧv͙̗͎͖̜̉̔͗ò̬͚͎̦̲l̝̼̯̝͍̋ͩͧu̺̮͎̇͆t̜͈̾̈́i̠ͣͫ͆͌o̥͇̫ͫ̊̽̃ṇ̰͙͓͂ͤ̍ͥ ͕̟̖̐̈́̈́ͨW̗̐́͆ͬ͌e̥͊̆̋̽̔b̮͐̃̾ ̳͓ͮ̈́c̥͚̫͂a̪͙ͧ͂͂p͔͕̋͗ͭ̏ͅạ̹̬ͩc̞̟̭͈̈́̈̒̆̽ĩ̗̳͙ͪͪͫ̀ẗ̪̩͇́͆y̪̖̗ͩ̍̽̿ͅ.͈̣̝̗͆̑͊ ͍̉́D̟̫͎̲̈ͮ͛̉̂ḛ͇͕̮ͧ̌ͅp͓͚̣͕̒̓ͥͮl̯̉ͤo̹̱̹̬͔ͮ̔̿ͣ͑y̺͎̪̽̉̈ͥ͑i̱͖̽ͨ͛̈n̳̫̥͉̞͗̏̓ğ̺̘͖̘̄ͦ̆ͯ ͈̘̜̮̂̅̔́͑r̯̫͍̪͈̊̉̓̐̓e̖̼͓̞ͫͅv̞̲͓ͧ̓ͣ͋o̯̜̠͉ͭl̟̺ͨ̇u̮̙̳̯͐̽̓ț̪̳̳̾̓ḯ͔̮̘̠̖ͮ̈́̌o̻̜͉̫ͫ͗̔͊ň̠͇̖̹͂̔ͮ ͕͌ͤw̥ͪ̇̄ė͈̮̾ḃ͚́ͯ̐ ̱̩̮̎t͓̖̥̩̋̓ͣ̆o͓͎̳ͦ̒ ͎̤́̎s̰̗͙͙̀ͣ͛ͤ͌l̥͗͆̾̒̅o͙͉͓̼͑̈̒ẉ̫ͣ̄ ̹̓̋̇d͙͚ͦȅ̫̝͗s̩͙̜͇ͦ̌ͭc̟̙̹̃͋e̟ͧ̒ͯ̽͒n͈̱̲̏t̰͈̜́͌̓ͦͥ

For a few seconds she was flying through the air yet under the tyranny of the Earth's gravity. Her vision, blurry, saw dozens of strange threads and tendrils that at once extended out from her body, long and so very fine yet strong. They reached out with a mind of their own, grabbing, dragging onto the buildings, slowing her as she flew through the air. Why did the threads and tendrils seem so very familiar, almost like--

Her back met the ground that she crashed against as her vision went black, mind crackling with frenzied thoughts she just about heard, alien and strange yet so utterly familiar at this point?

~~~~~~

Ṱ̙͈̜̙̗̓h̖̟̩͌͐̓͗̚r̻̟̝͓ͧe̖̹͎̝͇ͦá̩̗͇͈̺̄ͨ̚ẗ͚ͣ ̖̝͓͔̓p̳̈͊͋ͣo̞̪̖̤̠ͥͮͪ͌s͖͚̹͚ͪͨ̀ͥ̄́ḙ͙̭͍̪ͨ̏̑d̞͎͓ͤ ̻͓̲͓̑̍̒b̰̘͐ͭͪ̓y̜͍͊ͅ ̫ͪ̑ͮ̎͆ͬ'̞̼͙ͥ͊͆ͅE̹̐ͨ̅̑͐n͚̾d̜̃̋ͩ̎b̥͎͔̟̫ͯ̔r͇̮͎͉͓̽͆i̙ͫn̯̓̔ͮ̾g̞̺̓ͯe̫̹̘̜̙̼̓̋ͮ̽ͧr̩̊͊'͙̣̞ͫ̊̄ͦ ̼̫͋̄̊̊̍̾s̳̟̻̬͕̆i͉̝̱ͨ̌̄ͮg̮̹͕̅̐̾̌̓̐ṅ͈̪̪f̠̜̙̖̹ͤ̊i͎̜̬̱͔̠͒ͤ̊̅c͓͇͇̃ͅi̹̥͔͗̽̄ͦc͙̤̀̆̈ͬ̈́ả̘͖̤̯̈n̟ͤ̓̒ṭ̣́̇ͫ̓ͬͤ,͎̖̟̱̼ͨͧ ͕̫͋ͣͅp̳̈̌ͭͯ͆r͙̦ͭ́i͚̲̩̭̱̝ͫͣ̎̍ͣo̮̼͖̪͆̔ͬͥͅr͉͉̈́͑ͬ̎ï̫̬̠̹̭̤̔͒̽ṱ͋̑̂̂̚î͖͇̥͕̟̐s̪͚͛͌̽̀ͅͅḙ̪̗̏d̲̻͇͕̑̎͌ͯ̚ ̫̲̣͉̖ͮ̈́́̓ͪD̘͓̱̑r͔͔͂ͤ̇͑o̝̩͕̳ͨ̽ͤ͂̐́n̦̮͓ͥ̿̓̚̚ė̹͓̯̜̩̱͑̏͌.̣̟̱͍́̔ͭ̊̄ ̤͛̒͆P̯̹͍̊ͯ̎̏͂̐o̞͚̱ͣͧ́͐t͇͖̟̪̅ͤͧe̩ͥṅ̬̰͈ͪͦ̎t͈̣͚͂͂͛̌̈͆i͖̳͍̞͚ͨͨ̀̊͆͌á͈̩̘̱ͪ̉̃̉l̰̘̳͗̆ͭ ̞̐ͧ̌͛̚d̪̝̙͈ͮã̼̻̳͗ͭ̒t̞̳̫̞͉͍͑ͤ̍̀a̫̯͉̘͔̣̿ͣ̆ͯ ̜̠͕̝̄̌ͤ̀g͇͓̰̯̙ͪͮͤa̲͉̮͖̲͋ͫ̔ͦi͖͖͓ͮ̔̒n̫̮͛̈́ͅe̻̩̩͍̥ͭd̖ͫͭͧ͊ͅ ͎͛ͦ͊t̖ͬ̏̽̇̍h̞̯͎̘̜́̿ͫͪ̈́ͅr͙͊ͤ̋o͇̹̗ͩͬͭṵ̥͇̣̝̈́g̞̤̟̅͆h̰̥̰̮͔̒ͣ ̻ͯ͗͊a̯͊̌͒̏s̭͔͉͍̘̪ͤͮ̏s̲̤̞̫ͫͧi͓̟͙̞͑̍m̟̫̤̈̔ͨ̅ͪͧi͖̞̋͊ͬ̅ͨl̬̻̳͆̀ͨ̀ͣ̅a̯̙͎̻̱͑̆̈́̐̋ͭt̻̺̥͚̔̀̽i̠̗̖̒ò͈̄n͍̘͙̎ ̹̟ͦǒ̫̣͕̎̃ͅf͕̘̺̙͓̯̄ͮ́ͪ̐̂ ̱̳͖̖ͨͧ̌͆̋̐'̳͕͙̫͓ͫͮ̒E̦̮̥̬͕̼̊ͪn̮͍͇̻͖̞̋̄d͚̯͉̙̪͔ͬ͛͒̑b̦̟͖̳͖͖͊̄͒ͩͩ̚r͓͚̹̯̺͊i̝͔̰͕͖̎͆ͤ̋n̻̰̝̦̒ͅg͍̰̭̰͒ͪͧe̺̝͔̜̔͂ͮ̀r̺͚̹̖̉ ͉̩̱̦̜̂̾ͧ̋ś͙͍̫̝͚̫̌̔̍̑i̬ͯ̾̽͆̇ġ̰͓̮͇̙n͖̗͖̦̹̉̊̄̓i̘̙̘̫̙̞̇ͨͬ̍f̤͉̘̰̤̄ͩ͗̓ͅí͍͈̐͂̍ͯͅc̺̠͔̘͇͋a͉͉̋̍̓ͩ̆n͖̻͉̭ͣͦ͊̂͋̅ͅt͔͚̳̟̜͊

F̻̥̻̪̺̓ͭū͔̅l̠͐ͨ̎̋l̤͆͌̆̓ ͈̬͇̤ͫ̈r̞͇̞͉͛ͩe͇̎ͯ͗̋s̼̙ͤ̈̐t͔͌o̙̞͛̓ͩ̈́r͚̦̲̤̟̃ͦā̲̭̠̑̏t̯̖̣̬̮̄̓͑̑i͔̹ͣ̄̌ͨo͙͈͖ͪ͂͋n͇̯̳̮̍ͮ͛ͅ ͈̾ͣ̆o̯̦̞̹͌ͫ̍ͣf͖̄ͬ ͈͇̜̇D̯͌r̰͐̒̆͗o͕̮̰̻̪̎͐̄ͧ͊n͚͚̭͙̾ͥ̌̄ė̯̥̘̃͆ͥͮ ͎̹͖̺̉ͦͧͩͅd̦̹̹̖̎̒̌ͬe͚̩̬̪̘̋͐ͨ̇͆e̟ͯͩͥ̒m͖̪̯̠̽̒͛̃e͖̘̎ͨ̀̈d̞͕͔͎͖̈͋̒ ̟̩͆̅l̝̣ͥo̲̳̾w̪͂ͥ͗ͭe̦̫̤͔̦ͯͥr̭̟̳͒ͩͪ̃ͅ ͇̅͋̐p̫͑ͩ̇r͙̼̊i̲̅̇ö̻̠̗̘́ͤ͗̇̉r͚̩̉͐i̝̠͙ͥͩt̫̾̉ͦỳ͉͈̖̞ͪ̑;͍̰̤̣͚̍ ̫͎̋̊̈́d̹̥̅̔a̼̫ͬm͍͖̣̥̞͐̈́ͯa͚͒ͮg͔̠̱͉̫̅͒͋̍ͬe̟͕͕͗͒̅̌̂ ̺̼̗̪ͤ̅n̳̽̌͌̿̚ò͈̤̻̮̘̌̄͋̉n͉̊̍̐̋-̫͖͌̎̐ͨt͍͈̙͖͇͐̈́ͯͤ̈ĕ̗͕̻͂̅r̞͉̳ͯ͊ͣ̇m͉̓͂ͫi̠̺͑n̜̫̲͚̘ͥ̑a̤ͯl͚̬̾͐͒̚ ͓̳̺͔̿̄a̬̝̱̳͋̋̎̍̇n̪͈̯̼͛d͚͊̈́ͫ ͔̗̋ͫ͌c̼̞ͤu̼ͨ͊ṛ̭͇̍ͣͭͪ͌r̖͓͈͛̄̊e͓̦̔ͨ͑̄͆n͓̭͕̤͐ͦ̉ͮ̋t͙̠͉͇̩ͭ̆̇ͮ̚ ̰̼̤̞͊̚l͎͉̩̒ȍ͔͉̞ͤ̈͛͛ͅc͖̦̏͋͂a̹̠̣ͯ̉̃ṯ͖̟͕̺͋͐̚í̫̣ͅo̜̽ͣͥ̚ͅn̻̯̔ͮ͆ ͚͙ͦi͖̼̦͎͂͌̂ͣs̪ͯ́ͅͅ ̟͖̻͚̤͛̉ā͇̯͓̗̔͋̐d͉̙͛̅ͪ͑v͎͙̦̖̞ͥ̋a͎̫̼͒ñ͇̹͕̎t͙̩̬̏ͪͫ̚a͓̟̠̿̇̀g̲͔̺ͥͫ͋ͧ͛e̱ͮ̑o̰̗̭ͣ̈ͯ̒̎ṵ̤̳̠̈̅͆ͨs̻ͯ̽͛̿̉

̭̦̖̖ͧ͐͑͂P͕̤̤̩ͭ̌r̥͒e̞͚̒͛ͮ͑͒p͓̥͙̦̰̃̄ͨa͚͓̘̲̤̓ŕ̗̯̰̯i̙̻͎̙͇ͥ͊n̯̖̺̐́ͭ͛g̠̺̻͆̅̇̌́ ̩͖͍ͤͧț̂ͧo͎̫̹̥͂̒̎͛ ̼͖̥̠̳̃ͭ̅̅̚d̘̲̅̓ͨ̈̚e̞ͩ͊p̫͖̜̦̩͗̄͛͑l̺͕̰̊o̭̻͈̾ͨ̉͂y̮̞̏͛̈́̋ ̼͕ͤ̎D͉̑ͬͨ̉͌r̭̩̽̄ͥ̊̃ȏ̤̘͖̫̞̍̃͂ͬn̟̹̠̘̙̿͑̿e̱ͭ̄͂̒s͖͔̘̱̓͒͊ͅ ̖̲̮͙̭̾͑ͧs̜̲̥̤ͫ͌̆é̟̦͈͉ͩc̣̘̱̪̻̏ͨ̈̉̈́o̜̳̗͛n͇͚͕̬̎̏d͔̮͙ͪ̑ͯ̏ͪa͎̻͕ͫ̍r̦̈̎ͬ̂́ỵ̍͌ͣ̍ͅ ̯̬͓̏ͫ̊f͉͂̈́͌̊ͬu͚̘̭̤ͣ̅n̻̐ͮ͛̓c͕͇̻͚͆̾t̖͚͎̳͇͋̌͆i͖͗͗o̹͖̗͑ͪ̄ṅ͉̠͔̯̱̈s̺̿͋̔̽.̖̩̩̗̠͆̾̒̚ ̼̬͔̼̮̐̂P̤ͧr͚̣̥̠͂̾̏̍ͣe̖̖ͥ̉p͉͚̒ǎ̱͙ͭr̦͓͔̝̽̚i̬͚̫̯͊͌n̰̹̰͊̉̊͂̿g̮̞̠͋ͪͣ̚ ̯̫̥̝ͤ́ͫͥD̖̝̞͕ͪͦ͋̋̍r͖̠̗̎͒̉ͣö̺͇n̫̣̬̭̓̉͆͊͂e͍̘̗̚ ̦͍͇͙̭͗̍ͪ̅̏f̼̪̃̏͋ì͎̏͛ň̲̺̮̖̗͛̆̽a̱̞ͦl̯̩̠͚̞̔ͪ̒͗͛i̩͉͕̇̆s̝̲̄͋̾ͨå̘̹̠̦̗͆ṫ̫͔͖̘͚ͧ̓ͫi̗̻̙͙͖̓ͯ͗ͮ͐o̥̭ͮ̇̋ͫn̘̆́̄̍.̣̣̮̝̟̃̉ͣ̈́͂

P̯̺̝̟̦̻ͯ͊̄͗ͬr̬͖͈̭̝̣͌̾ḙ͉͙̘͓ͯͣ̈̓̌ͅp͔͔̮͉ͬͦͫ̇̄ă̻ͣr̰̊͋ỉ͖̔ͯ̎͂͋n͈̞̘̗̼ͮ́͗g͈̘̟͉͕͍̋̚ ̯̯ͨ͛͛ͧ̈́ẗ̲̩͖́o̜̭͓͚̠ͮ̔́͗ ͍̝̭̩͖͒̇̉ͫ̋ͥh̤̼̹ͬu͚̺̓̄̈́̆̚n̟̼̭͐ͤ̔̓ͥ͛t̠̱̺̗̙͒̍̎̐̚ ̙̇ͬ́͌ͯt̰ͣ͒͛ͪà̦̰͙̘̺̜ͭr̲͊g̗̮̠͕ͧ̒͌̐e͔̥̞̭͋̿͐̄̔t̹̣͛ͧ͗̚:̗͖̞̉ ̫̜̜̎̽̋̄ͩ̍'̳̭̙͍ͥL͖͉̮̙̑̆e͔͖ͭ̏̉͂ͩv̰͔̜̘͉ͦ͆́͌i̯͈̟ͦͫͦ̏͗͐a̘̩̖̯̝̤͒̔̓t̞̤̝̱̠͇ͮ̄ͩh̹̖̩̣̿̂̋̄̈̀a̙̱͕͓̐̿̌̇ͧn̠̮͙̙̰̍ͮ̀͌̑̈'͈ͧ͐̏̂͒

5.3

Taylor returned to consciousness with her back partially against a wall, eyes swimming and aware only of pain and the sensation of water up to her waist, a foot or so deep. She tried to move and her body exploded into pain, she couldn't even twitch her fingers without a wave of light-headedness hitting.

Beyond the end of the alleyway into which she had been launched she could see figures moving past, but had no idea who they were.

She tried to call out, but her voice was too weak, the thundering of the rain and conflict drowning her out.

Another went past. A flier.

And another. Her eyes were clearing rapidly.

Why wasn't anyone looking!? Or checking their armbands!

Everything hurt so much.

No, she would be okay, she could heal through this, she had in the past, why was she not healing faster? Or was it the severity, or because she had been unconscious? With Bakuda she had been awake, she had willed herself to endure. Yes, that made sense, she just had to want it.

She just had to l̗̱͖ͣ̂iv̫̟ͨͣe̦̫̮̓.

She tried to push herself up, but her arm creaked dangerously, splintered and cracked and the shoulder of her other, flesh and blood one utterly broken, just trying to move brought a nauseating wave of pain that had her gasping uncontrollably. Her legs lay in pieces a few feet away, if she could push the stump closer, they could reattach and heal faster, right? They had before. And yet the crystal shards just sat there, gleaming at her, out of reach.

So close.

Just there, mocking her.

The armband spoke up.

"Next tsunami incoming. ETA is three minutes."

Three minutes and she would drown, submerged under the tidal wave.

Please... something, somebody find her, help her up, rea̙̹̽͆ttac̺̺̈́ͯ͋h̹̖ͯ her legs, why was her body not healing properly like before? She could drown when the next tsunami came.

Please let somebody see her, help her.

Please help her p̠ͧ̿l͎ͬ̒eaṣ̃e̞̙̾ͧ he̙͓ͭ̉lp--

A̰̯̠͓͚͐̈͌̒͒ͧc̲̽̔ͭ̀̀̌c̤͍̤͓̓̏̌̌͆e͉̼̞̐l̳̓̿̍͛̎e͍͕̭ͪ̈ȓ̜̬̯̳̹̏ͪͅa̱̗͓̜͇ͯ̋ṯ̩̰̱͍̿͗ḭ̭̟͖ͫ̆́͂n̹͚̞̦͕̞ͥͯ̈́̓̏g̬ͪͪ ̰͈͕͕͎͒͑̆͂ͪͦṁ̙̳̻͉̎̾e͙̋ͩ̔ͤt̫̝͓̲͆a͓̘̲̫̎ͅm̪̌̈͛͋̐̋o̱̙͕͉͓̓̐̅̊̆ͬr̦͇̻̥̤̹͒ͨp̹͇̈́ͩͥͣḣ̺̥͓̖ͬͯͯo̝̳̹̺̰̍s͕̳̜͇̺͕ͬ̂î̤̲̹̮̝̎̂ͅș͔̥̪̃ ̤̠ͯ́d͙̤̬̱̳̱͊̉̌̍̃ͦe͚̥̍ͮp͉ͮ̽̑̓ͅl̤̥̟̙͍̬ͦ͊̔ͭo̯̞ͥͨ̚y͕͎͕̭͐ͨͣ͑̓̓m̪̓͊̔̾̂̚ḙ̲͖̗̃ͩ̃̉n̗͉̙͙͌͆̈́̊͊t̜̗̗̆ͪ̾:̭̞̙͈͓̘ͤ͛ͦ͒̅ ͇̫͈̹͑ͬ͂I̟̦̲͓͓͑̿ͮ̂ͯ̉m̩̤̂m͙̳̼̌ͮ͗͑ͅḙ͎͇͍̄̌̌͐͌ͅd͔̥̖̄ͤi͓͎̭͛̓̎̿̚a̙̬̱ͪͭ̇̉t̘̣̞͇͎̓e̼͇̪̭̫̒

Ō̙̓b̺̆ͯj͕͔̓̚ë͖́ͪc͎ͭ̉t͚ͩi̱̼͂o͉ͯ̅ͅn̘ͪ;͓̳ͨ ̜ͥD̩ͩͅr̠͌ͅo̱ͭͅn̪͎̂̄e̳̅ͅ ̠͐h̉́ͅà̫̰š̞ͣ ͇ͥͬe̲͙͋ẋ͍̌p̝͆ë̯͈́r̮ͬi̜̽͒e̝͇͊ͣn̺ͮc̭̱̓e̥͚̒d͎ͩ̚ ̬͇͗ċ̞̃ͅr̹̓i̦̒t̮̹ͫï̻̝c͚͆a̟̦ͣ͗l̮̜̋ ̙̒͛ḍ̆a̹̳͛m̠̐̽ả͕ͧg͚̠̿ͧe̳̗ͪ ̟̮̾ä͉̪n̪͋d͕̗ͧ̌ ̣́ȉ̼s̺̟̓ͧ ̳̓e̺̍̂x̪ͥ̀p̪̫͛͌e͈ͤ͋r̗͉̄͌i͕ͦe̟͌ͬn͎ͧͤc̘͉ͥ̄i͚̽n̠ͪ͋g̥̈́ ̞ͯ̑c̘͗ô̖̄m̜͐ͤp̳ͮ͑ṙ̦̹͑o̹ͯṁ̳͛i̜͚̍s̗̔̈́i̦̹̒̚ṇͤ̉g͓̹ͯ ̥̈́͊d̖̈i͙͍͐̚s̺̟̓̔t̘̺̏ṛ͚̒̄ë͔̟͐s͙̀s̫̮ͦ

R̙͍ͭ͊̓i͎͙̫̖̾̏̆̿s͓̝̠̓̒ͥͮ͑͌k͔̯̰̗̱͇̈ͫͭͩ͑̑ ̬̝̜̾ͮd̯̼͙͍̬̱͆̈͌e̺̼͇̋ͧ̈́ͫe̞͉͍̟͕̬͗̇ͭͭ̍̒m̻̮͈̟̣̃͌ͅe̩̯ͫ͑̂̏̂̚d͈̉̋̃ ͈̜̼̳̦͑ͅa̩̜̳̟̰̒ć̜͇̖͉̥̆̿̋c̟͖͈͓͂̃ͯͦ̔é̮̦̆p̰̼͚̦͈̈͑ͬ̄̒ṯ͒a̪̟̞͚̅ͧ̈́̒̓b̫̲̣̞̗̿͋ͭͥ̎̏l̠̓̈̆̄̄̇ḛ̭̯͖̗ͫ̾̑̿.̮̀Ḋ͉̟̙̘̱͖ͤͥͥͫ̚r̬͍̤̣̪̊͂̂ͦo͍̥̮̟͍̜̊n̮̞̈ͤĕ̺̼͈́̚ ̰̞̲̇͛͐ͣm̗̃ͭ͊̿̽̊e̥͓ͦ̊ṱ̮̖͈̼̄̓a̳̤̥̥̩̋͋ͧ̄m͍̥̪̻͎͌̔ͤͣ͆ͨo̠ͤ̾ͨr̜͉̥̂̎̉̚ͅp̘̗̝͖͎̣̄̅̑ͧ̽ͧh̠̰̼͗̌̇o̠̘̙̠̙̘ͭͮs͔̭̯̝͑ͧi̞̮̿s̘̻͇̯̅ ̳̝̲̫͙ͧ̏ͬp̼͙̙̘̓̉̃r̼̤̬ͨ̈̔͛̓i̬͚͌ͭͤ̋o̫̱͓͎̲ͥ̇̅͑r̬͔̤̐̽̈́ȋ͉̭t̗̼͙̃ÿ̱̙̮́̑̈̎

Wait... what was that? She could hear it, like an itching, scratching in the back of her mind? Her bones all ached, no, her body ached suddenly, her eyes darted down at her hand as little patches of crystal began to bloom and blossom like frost flowers, creeping, frosting over her skin with inorganic matter.

No. Not over her skin, through it, replacing it from below, her muscles and tissues all ached as she was being crystallised.

"Next tsunami incoming. ETA is two minutes."

No no no no no--

Not now!

She still had so much more to do!

So much more life to live!

She had fought so hard to make something of her limited life, she had broken loops, she had beaten Bakuda, she had saved lives, this wasn't fair it wasn't fair let her live!

But to be a statue, trapped underwater in a ruined city... they would never find her, not for years trapped like this!

Taylor tried to move, but her body was locked in place, the little movement she could manage was those parts of her that did not have bones, which were not crystallising from the inside out. Frantically her eyes darted, she tried to move her jaw but could only manage a few millimetres before it locked in place.

P̘ͮ̅̌͋̾r̮͗̈́è͓̪̎p̫̼̄͊̆̑ã̙͖̹͈̭ͣr̠͑̂͑ͩḯ̗̿ͪn̺̥̞̜̦̅g̣̯̗ͨ̂͛ͦ̚ ̮̺͈ͦ̽̂ͣf̫̗̅̔o̗̻ͯ̆r͇̯ͦ ͎̬ͫm̞̬̓̓̃ͬẻ̦͚͓̊͗ͭ͐t̫̹͎͈͖̀á̘̟̠͒ͭ̆̚m̼̳͎̼̜͌̄͆̚o̜̪̿͐̇̇͛r͈͔̻̹͋p̦ͮ̍̐̃h̺͒ͦ̇ͬọ̥͖̫ͯ̆̎̎s̘͍̣̙͎ͩ̉͛ͤ̓i̱̬͋͐͊ͦs͈̹͗̽ͫͅ.͙̹͐̋ ͦͯͥͅḊ̺̠̙ͥi͔͕̙̭͆̅̒̔ͯs͉̤̗̒̍ͥg̳̟̐ͩ͗̑͋u̠̹͛ͮ͒ͅͅi̻͙̓ͣ͋̋͂s̰̑̈́ịͦͪn̝ͥ̒̂g̘̈́̎͊̔ͬ ͙̤͙̫̗ͭͮͣ̒̚c̞̜̹̉̃o̠͈̣͙̪ͥ͒̽̾͂m̙̎̉̒m̝͈͕̳̾ù̺͙̙̣̋ͯ̂n̬͖̼̥̦̆͑͆i͕̠̐̃ͤ͐ͅc̣͖̲͚ͪ̌ͩ̐a͉̫̺̩̬͛̅͒̃ͣt̲̠͍ͤ̉̋̚i̦̪͙̚ọ͉̬͛̌̀͋̄n̞̐ͣͯ̈́:͍̮̖̰̎ͣ̀ͅ ͔̚R̯̥̪ͯë̯̙̱̥̟̚d̝̺̜̙̑̏̀ͤ̅u̯͂̂ͪn̗̿̌͊ͣd̙͍͎ͥ̏̄͛̀ầ̼̖͐́̔ñ͓̺̩ͥt̪͓̎͋

She heard it.

It was that thing.

The Oort-Spider.

She could hear it, the stream of chatter, the data, the unrelenting vastness of its thoughts, blasting through her skull as if she had suddenly tuned into a radio station at max volume, beamed directly into her skull. Her eyes swam as she tried to move, tried with everything to move the crystalline statue that her body was becoming, but only a faint sound escaped her throat.

Her eyes were welling up.

The crystal, her body, it was all part of it, they all were, it always had the power to do this, it was just eating them all slowly but now it wanted to eat her all at once.

They would never find her body, she would be left trapped forever in this alleyway with the Spider screaming within her skull--

"Next tsunami incoming. ETA is sixty seconds."

Her power, her power would save her right!? Oh god please power do something do something--

P͇̃̋̒͛͒̅r̩̺̬̹̼͑ͯͅẻ̦̥͍͚ͅp̼̀̓ͣͣ͐̊ạ̰͍̖͙̲ͣ̒̂̆͆r͎͓͛ͬ̅i̝̪̰͗̒ͪ̐͂̿n̥͊̊ͪͤg̺̰̒ͨ͒́̎̓ ̫ͣͦͯ̌B̳̼̰̥̬͒͑̓a̭̤̓̋͛̈́̃ͯt͍͕̻̭̆̾͐t̘͙̟̬̆̾ͦ͐ͤl͖͕̟ͥè̤͉̼̞̑͗g̗̥̥̏r̜̟̖͈ͬͤͬͤ̃̿ọ̙̳̺̱͎͆ŭ̜̭͈n͖̘͔̼̲̋̐́ͧ̾̋d̖̙͈̈́̑̔͂ͩ:̹̉̔̈̊́̊ ͎̠̬̻ͨ̿ͫ̑̄ͧd̼̯͕̔̄͌ë͉̤̹͉̲́p͔̩̹̘̩̏ͦ̃l͇̦̘̏̍ͩ͐ͤọ͍̞̉̒y͖̙̽i̳͚̝͕͊ͩ͂̑n̺ͯͩ̑͛̚ͅg̱̤̲͋͌ ̬ͩ͑͑̄̌ͭS̖̹̱̈ͤt͓̙͈͍́̓ͪ͂a͎͉̻͈̙̒̓r͕̠̓͂ͥ͐r̘͍̭͍̠͍͌ͯī̪͙̤͚͎̃̄̐̽̎ͅn̜̦͚̣͔ͬ̀̓̏ͪ̆g͎͉͎ͩ ̱̪̪͈ͬ̑̓͊̀Í͔̦̺͈̰ň̳͉͎͈̭́͗v̗̦̻͉̙ͮͫͅa̮̝͕̟͎͊d͇̺̲ͥ͂͋͛e̬̥̻̻̦̹̎ͨ̓̏̄ͣ.̮ͧ ̹̝̱͔͖̈̌̆ͦ͑ͅR͇̰̭͗̑ͪ̄̋̚a͉͂̐ḍ̓i̥̣̗͇ͪu̱͉̩̦̲͂ͦs͖̭̝̹̥̿:̮̭͎͋͌ ͔̱̱͍̫̯̏̓̐ͤT̪̭ͫͯ̚ḥ̳̘͒ͣ̏ͥ̑ͦr̝̮ͩͦĕ̤͓͖̳̓e̠̘̳͓ͪ͆̀ ̤̗ͫ͛͗̂͒m̤̙̜͇͔͉͊̿i̘͗l̩̮̆͆ͯͮ̃e̙͙ͪś͔̫̟͇̙̓͂.̰̖̳̂̄͒͑ͅ ̼͇̘̑̐̽̽̾L̼͇̼̠̰̦̔̾̊ò͉͇ͮ͆ͭc̦̜̙̒̓͒ͮ̃a̤͕͕̗͈͕͐ͤt̞̤̠̯̙ͦ̍̊̊̌ï͓͙͎̣͖͉̓͗ō̜̑ͧn̲̅̾:͍̹͔̜̗ͫͩ͐ ̪͈̱͉̻͌D͕̱̳̮̦͖ͤͦ̂̚r̜̹̺͇̝̲̄̽̄̃̋̑o̖ͯn̜ͣ̽e̳͇͋̓ͬ͌

The world stabilised, in a moment, it all became right as her power activated without her intending it.

Wait, no... it was never her power, was it? She was just hijacking it, borrowing it. It was the Spider, it was the Spider all along, was she even a Cape or just... just a vehicle? No...

No...

She wasn't...

She was Taylor, she was Taylor.

"Tsunami decreasing in momentum, repeat tsunami is decreasing in momentum." This comment from her armband was likely met with relief for a moment by the majority of the defenders, and then, as if to swing the scale back again, it added. "All Shaker effects appear compromised over the city, all Shakers retreat. Leviathan's hydrokinesis is down."

Of course, with her power up… if it was affecting the tsunami then it would be compromising what Shakers remained—

"Ordinant, do you copy? Please confirm, do you copy?"

She forced a pitiable sound that was halfway between a scream and a whine, trying to give an indication that she was awake, that she could hear.

"Search and rescue prioritise recovering Ordinant."

Oh, thank the gods--

P̫̱̮̺ͥ͋̋͂r͚̲͎̹͒e̩ͩ͋̌̍̈͑p̼͙̗̻̮͒́͑̊̑̇a̫̞͕͈̗̓̊̊ͦ̎͊r̮̰͈̀̿̑̽ì̟̮̺̣͙ͩͤͤ͌ṉ̻͈͕̞̂̽g̦̍ͅ ̙̙̭ͯ̔b̙̙̜̣ͯȧ̯̱̺̱͙t̫̪̝ͣ̊͐t̠̤͓̺̳͈̓̐̐̽̆l̮̫̰̒e͙͎͉̗ͤ͒͒̚ ̺̟̰̽ͫ̾̏͑g͓͉͉ͣ̂͑͋̌r̭̝͇ͨ̿̈́o̳̅ụͦͬ͊ͬn͕͚͎͍̊d̞̋:̻̟̮͎͋͒̄ ̫͔͓̦̪͎ͩ̉ͫ̂D͎̞̝̗̪̞̎̏̀̒ḛ̫̭̓ͨ͗̉̎̅ͅp̹͈̠̻̭̗ͮ̒l̪̗͚ͣ̔̐͌ŏ̝̼͓̙̳̠͌ͦ̑ͦ̎y͙͇̞ͩ̂͗i̹̘ͯͮ͛ͤ̋ͭͅn̙̪̟͍̬̽̒ͫ͒g̱̍̅ͥ͐̄ͭ ͇͚̦̼̭̀ͅN̺̪ͥͩͯä͖̖̜̠͖̹́̇ͩ͆̉ẗ̲̟̟͖̞̎̓͋́ͅĩ͓̉̂ṽ̜͍͚ͥẽ̟͇̝̺͕̾ͮ̌̄̽ ͕̗̥̍̃͐t̗̱̻͚͎̒͂͐̈ͪ̿e͙̝͆͛ͭ̌̋r̹ͣͣ͆͐ͮr̝̮̹̭̤̩ͧ͒͋ͬ̑i̲̹͕͇͒̍t̘͕̣̼͖͖ͪͭ̂ͬ̓͐ǒ̩͕͙ͩ̚r̘͕̬̙̙̦ͣ͋̄ͧ̾̇y̻̥ͬ̓̓̆ͮͅ ͉̬̙͚̝͐ͧe̞ͤͦ̏n̯̭̻͐ͥ̎͆̚ͅf͙͊̈́ͫo̘̱͔ͣ̌̂r̗͂̋̔͂c̱͚͈̖̍e͉̜͚̦̱̺̋̇̋͊̾m͖̙̼̔ͪ̓̉́̌ë̥n͕ͣt̜̥̣̒̎̈.̫̬̼͓ͬ͌̈ ̮̱͐D̫̩̰͙̦̉̑̑ͥe̺͖̦̰ͩͧ̉̓p̲̤̺̈̾̋l̖̪͓͈̳͂̇͑́̂̚o͓̚y̮̙̖̥ͤ̆͒ͥ̒ͪm͓͂̈́̐e̗͚ͨ̿̆̈́̎̆n̺̺͎̺̠̅͑t̬͕͓̳ͯ̈ ̩̺͙̺ͫ̅̋ͯ͆ͅc̟̽e͇̬͒͛̓ͬ̔̈n̦̗͚̖̤̋̉̂t̼̫̪ͣͪr̹̥̼͌ͬ̈́͂̏e̝̖̜̺ͤ͛͑:̖̔ͭ̿ͬ ̟̤̜̲̞͐D͔̽͊r̻̽͛̃̐̓o͓̱̾̆n̟͓̜͙̾̅̓͑̾͋e̗͈̰̲͋ͪ

A tortuous few moments later somebody moved into view, one of the search and rescue team. Not Sophia, Taylor had no idea what his name was, but he saw her was looking for her. Relief flooded through her, a grim sort. Even if she was just a statue, even if she would never move again... at least she could find peace without being trapped underwater forever.

And then the Cape's eyes widened and he took a step back.

Why was he doing that!?

It took her a few moments to notice the reason why.

Around her, from the edges of her body, crystal was spreading, spreading slowly yet gaining in speed, the water it made contact with either froze or evaporated the moment it touched it, after all... there is no liquid water in the Oort-Cloud. The air above her shone with a bright aurora, expanding outwards as if the canvas of creation was being burned away to reveal the inky blackness beyond dotted with shining lights.

Meanwhile, vines of translucent mineral extended and wrapped around her, petals grew around her as if she was at the centre of some strange and warped inorganic flower.

There were sounds as well, clicking, snapping, singing, all sorts of strange life forms were all around her, sinuous, writhing, articulated or impossible, born from the crystal expanding around her.

Unbidden, memories and thoughts returned to her, instinctual terror she had repressed that ordered her to move, to run for her life to flee like a child back somewhere safe.

The Crystal Valley. She was at the centre of a new Crystal Valley, and it was growing, growing and consuming all it would touch. And there was something else, a large, monstrous thing that was wrapping around the flower surrounding her, a huge, predatory thing, guarding her, protecting her, please somebody destroy it and get her out--

The Cape sent to rescue her stood a moment longer as the crystal encroached closer and closer, and when it reached the edge of the alleyway, he turned and ran, speaking into his arm band.

No, help her, please--

D̺̤͍̥͈͌i̼̣̲͔̬ͩ̇r͎͂̽̆̚̚e͉̟̹͓͆̾̑ͥ̄ͅc͕̩̠͉̉͂̑ͯ͗t̞̩̞͉͈̍ͯ̐̿̿ī̬ͥ̑ͪͫv̥̦͆̄͋͑́ẽ̙̔̐:̘ͭ ̘̘͂E͎̣̘̻̳ͥn̻̘̟̝̰ͨt͓̣̱̞͉̥ͥͭͬͣͣè͍͉̗̣̮͉̽̈͌r̘̮̦̘̼ͦͭ̇̔ ̣̮͎ͩs̘̹̭̉ͣt̥̰̻ͤä̖̹̗́ͩ̍̒̐́s̤̗̝ͬͮ̒i̫͕̲̿ͭš͔͉͇̟̥̫ͥ̑͑̇̚,̟̼̺̗͙̟͊ͥ͒ ͔̺͆͊ͭ'͕͚̘͕̏ͤ̉ͅD͙͈̞̯̳̙͑ͬ̔͌ͧr̻̝̘̬̮̰͌̔ḛ̥͍̰̤̿ͪͦͥạ̞͖͚ͧͬm͕̥̭̘̗̱̆ͩ͋'͎̯̜͂ͬ

She didn't want to go to sleep, to stop, she had to try she had to try with everything--

A heady wave of exhaustion, the primal urge and desire to just curl up and sleep hit her as hard as any tsunami created by Leviathan. The sound of the distant conflict, the first sounds of confusion and terror at the presence of the rapidly expanding crystal, it was all just white noise in the background, steadily being muffled more and more by both the heady exhaustion and the flower-like cocoon of crystal closing around her.

It just wanted her to sleep as... whatever happened to the world around her.

Was this what happened to all the others? Did they just sleep forever, until they were broken and shattered and atomised?

It was so hard to fight back, against the hopelessness of it all, against that thing from the stars that had ruined her life.

But she still tried, desperately, to force her eyes to remain open, just a crack, just enough to see the world as she tried with all her might to stay awake, to fight back even if it was all utterly pointless of an endeavour. She didn't want to go to sleep forever, she didn't want to be the one responsible for turning Brockton Bay to Crystal, she had to stay awake and try to hold it back, she had to do anything she could--

R̲ͥe̱͌j̞̏ë̻́c̲͌t̠ͫe̳ͫd̘ͨ ͎ͣr̰̐e̥̐j̜̋e̮̽c͓̃t͚̐ē͚d̺ͧ ̫̓r̩̅e͓͒j͇̿ẽ̳c͇̓t̟͗ē̱d͕ͧ ͩp̦̈l̝ͤe͖ͭã͇s̲̆ḙ̃ ̩̐p͙ͭl̐ͅe̬̓a̞ͫs̮ͧe̖̿ ̳̔d͔͑ǒ̪n͕̎'̳̀t̤͋ ̝ͫl̲ͮe̬͗a͔ͨv̦̑e̲͌ ͔̎m͙̈e͓ͭ ͖ͨa̤͒l͈ͩȯ͓n͖̈e̯͛-͔ͧ-̲̅-̩̿

I͕̖̻͈̞̫͆̂͗ͯn̙͎ͮ̄ͬ̍̿͋̇ͭs̟͚̙̖̯͔̲̀i̼̮͔͔͉̩͓ͩ̀ͣ̃̓͗ġ̫̣̹͚̃̊ͫ̇ͪ͒̚ͅn͕̯̒ͮ̐ͣ̓̈́͊i̞̦̩͊͋̎̾f͎̖̮̥͖̈́ͮ̅̌̀͛̌̈́ǐ̘̯̝̲c͍̲̰͇̒̿̓ḁͭͭn̗̒t̰̦͙͓̮͈ͤͧͅ.̩̫͈ͣ̔̍̈́̑ͦ̄

All her efforts were crushed the moment she tried.

The petals of the crystal flower converged and closed with a sound like scraping glass, sealing her into a dark void in which she could not see, could not move, could not hear.

In the face of utter hopelessness, in the face of inevitability, Taylor stopped thinking.

Her eyes closed.

~~~~~

"--Unknown crystal is spreading in the conflict area all Capes are advised to avoid at all costs--"

"--Crystal is the same as the Crystal Valley--"

"--The Oort-Spider has begun moving towards Brockton Bay, repeat, the Oort-Spider has begun moving towards Brockton Bay. ETA is thirty-four minutes. Begin full evacuation protocols--"

As pandemonium reigned, a redhead took a breath as she emerged from the Endbringer shelter. She gazed upon the chaos surrounding her, at the encroaching, hellish landscape, the familiar trees rapidly growing upwards towards the starry heavens.

That time had come.

5.4

It's time.

The world was turning into crystal.

Already most people had fled, or were fleeing for their lives in the opposite direction; it was not hard to know where was safe, one simply looked to the sky in the distance.

The call to evacuate had come all at once, a sudden panic that had split the uneasy tension that had loomed and dominated the shelter since they had entered it. 'Safe as houses' plenty would say, in truth, it was just a way to get people out of the way of the fight, if an Endbringer really wanted to it could easily get in.

They had all emerged blinking into the sunlight and then seen the encroaching horror.

Her father had taken her hand to tug her along as she faltered even as she stood, staring into the distance.

Her stomach sank as the realisation struck, that sad yet inevitable knowledge that this was it, that agreed upon moment.

She pulled her hand from her father's suddenly, as if she had been jostled, pushed away by somebody else in the panicking crowd.

"Emma!"

Her fathers voice, calling out for her. The tide of people was splitting them all up steadily, in just a moment there were two people between them, then four, twelve. She slipped into the seething mass of humanity and turned around.

People didn't notice her moving through them, they formed small gaps for her to move through subconsciously or perhaps just as a coincidence, as if directed by some unseeable will. She walked and pushed through, mechanical legs carrying her in the opposite direction to the crowd.

...

From the ground multifaceted spires of crystal rose, some festooned with little delicate life forms and flower-like crystals that sparkled so brilliantly.

Larger crystal 'trees' with segmented trunks as thick as a house stretched into the sky, their leafless branches spreading out.

The blue of the morning sky, the dark grey clouds of the storm had gone, all of that had been peeled away to reveal an inky blackness festooned with stars, the brilliant arms of the milky way galaxy stretching beyond even them. To Emma, each one of those brilliant white dots was an eye, a cruel, uncaring thing that stared across the vast distances, always watching even when the sun's light or the clouds hid them away.

Just looking into the place hurt, it was all wrong in its own way, the angles, the glittering. There was no way that anyone could look at it and see a system that made sense to human minds, no matter how much people tried to compare certain lifeforms to trees or flowers.

It was a galactic hell that never should have had a human set foot in it, that should never even be dreamed.

For years this place had been her nightmare, it had haunted her dreams so completely that it had eroded away her ability to sleep or look towards the night sky.

A lot of foundation and concealer went into hiding the bags under her eyes, a lot of energy that she barely had went into putting up her normal front, in seeming like a... well, not quite normal, but a competent, functioning human being that by all rights she should still be.

It is amazing just how exhausting it can be to pretend to be naïve about so much.

The crystal was advancing.

She vindictively brought down her foot on a delicate lichen-like crystal as she took her first step into the Valley.

Her vision was swimming as every instinct screamed at her to get out, as her shoes began to convert. Her legs, so new and so delicately made, would be next.

Keep going .

In the sky above the teaming stars above her were a million eyes staring down at her apathetically, the sound of distant stars blared in her ears as her shoes crushed delicate crystal mosses and lifeforms. In the corner of her vision, strange creatures moved, sounds like resonating clicking and birdsong mashed together to create a new soundscape that sang and reverberated like hammer strikes inside her skull.

The universe was huge and it was cruel.

That was the fundamental thing that Emma had realised over the years.

In the face of its vastness all living things were insignificant, tiny. Small. Replaceable. The realisation that nothing in the world cares, the confirmation in the lack of any sort of guiding force in existence, it does things to a person.

Oh, but there was a guide of sorts, wasn't there? It just only took actions when it was too late, or when you were pressed up against the wall and desperate, something that used you for its benefit. The Will, as she had come to think of it. What it was the Will of, she had no idea, she didn't even know if it was really alive... for the longest time she wondered if it was the crystal itself, but it persisted even after she got her prosthetics.

She hated it.

It did not care for her feelings at all, yet without it she would have been fully crystallised and reduced to atoms by this point.

She was Crystallisation-patient 001, after all, the metaphorical type specimen for the disease. As far as the PRT knew, she was the first person ever to contract crystallisation. It was a lie, of course, she had been knocked back by the impact that night, but Taylor had remained standing, she was the first.

"I don't know, I was scared and couldn't move, so the crystal reached me first."

But at the time, the words had leapt to her tongue to be the first, Taylor was insensate and Emma was the only one who could report on the site closest to the impact. So as the first responders ushered them away, as they asked questions on behalf of the Protectorate task force about what had happened and what they might face... she had lied.

A gentle push, a nudge into the right place.

The Will, ever with its nudges, its messages, its desires. By crook or by hook, carrot or stick she had no real choice... at least they both had a shared interest.

Taylor.

Taylor. Sweet, depressed Taylor. From the moment she had shyly shown Emma the form for that Summer Camp up in the foothills their lives had been as intertwined as thread in a ball of yarn, as close as fingers in a fist. No matter what, she had been with her friend since that night.

She had to.

The crystallisation had spread faster whenever she was away from her friend. Whenever Taylor stayed over Emma would be protected from the bad dreams and alien vistas. The Will only took care of Emma so long as Emma took care of Taylor.

It took a little while for Emma to realise that, so long as she kept her friend close the invisible hand that was suddenly directing her life would slow down her fate, and since that moment she had not let go of her. Taylor had been the only thing keeping her alive.

That night, when the Spider landed, it had been Emma who hauled Taylor away from it. Her friend had become as heavy as a sack of potatoes that Emma had had to half-carry half-walk out of this very same crystallised forest, where the territory of the nightmare did not spread. She had fallen, she had lost an arm as well as her legs because Taylor would not walk, but still she had done it.

But then, at the edge of the crystal, Emma had looked at her friend.

Really looked at her.

Emma had stared into her friends' eyes, and the void had stared back. They were still the eyes of her friend that she knew so well, that looked at her with such bemusement, curiosity and other such things at other times, but now there was something else there. Nestled into the darkness of the pupil, in the centre of that spider web of capillaries and tissues that made up the iris, was something else.

And it had stayed there, always just behind the eyes.

Watching.

Waiting.

All at once after that night Taylor developed an interest, a love, a fascination with the stars, and with it so did her interest in Parahumans as well.

Often Emma would find her sat reading PHO about them, all curled up and comfortable, curled up, reading and clicking but not really there. Other little things changed as well, so small that others would not notice, or put down to the trauma of what they had been through.

But Emma knew that it was all the thing that had taken root in her friend's brain.

And guided along by the Will, she had been able to intercede in the battle to preserve her friend's humanity.

Nobody else had realised it except Emma, but Taylor was no longer the same person as before that night. Then again, neither was she the Emma she had once been. She used to be so confident, so happy and carefree…

For over a year Emma had fought this unknown, unwinnable war to save the person she could not live without... both physically and mentally.

Little actions, little motions.

Things to force Taylor to interact. It would have been easy for her to justify cutting Taylor off, to have a falling out and move on with her abbreviated life.

But doing so would only let that thing get a stronger hold on her friend. So Emma had dug in her heels against the thing from the stars, she had forced Taylor to remain her friend, dragged her out to go shopping and all the normal things of life to make her continue thinking like a human. It had weighed upon her so, so much... she had had more mental breakdowns than she cared to remember.

But she hadn't given up, because Taylor was Taylor, because each little joke, each intimate shared moment together was a moment in which the thing behind Taylor's eyes was pushed back to the very recesses of her mind.

And as terrible as it sounded, the crystal had bound them together as well.

Their shared misery had forced them to be open with one another like two normal people could never be, they had shared almost everything, she knew Taylor better than her parents knew one another, and Emma had exploited that to the fullest to keep her best friend human.

She had heard the whispers in the crystal, the alien notes and logic. As her own crystallisation had progressed, she had increasingly heard Taylor's own crystal as if they were resonating in sympathy.

Emma couldn't really be sure that what she had done had made a difference, but she had committed herself to it mind, body and soul.

Around her the valley was only growing more and more hostile to life, the stars were singing.

In the distance there was an explosion, even with this hellish landscape the battle with Leviathan continued.

A human hand stretched from the crystal floor, the rest of the body covered in growths and tiny crystalline creatures with too many heads. Had that person been dead before the valley appeared, or had they fallen to the ground and, unable to escape, been crystallised in place? Were they still alive, their minds trapped forever?

She brought down her foot on where the body would be, putting all her force into her step.

The valley quaked under her blow, the body shattered and crumbled far more than it should, it became nothing but dust. It was a kindness.

Emma was not a Parahuman, but she was always exactly as strong and as fast as she needed to be to do what the Will wanted.

The crystallisation was at her knees now.

The mechanisms of her legs were not biological, by all means they should be seizing up and locking in place, and yet they kept moving.

Left.

She did not need to know where she was going, the Will would bring her to Taylor anyway, just as it always had in the past.

A nightmarish creature, a crystal worm with jaws as long as a car and as sharp as a knife and with a body as thick as a train carriage barrelled past, ignoring her. Other creatures were going as well, the forest was increasingly waking up as the local life forms all headed in the same direction.

Towards Leviathan.

Yes, thank you there.

She didn't care about Leviathan.

Let the beasts of the Valley put themselves to a good use by throwing themselves at the Endbringer for all she cared, the only thing of any worth of value lay at the centre of this all.

It was inconspicuous really, the alleyway in which she found her.

All was crystal, the walls of the two apartment buildings either side were covered in crystalline vines and creepers, strange creatures fluttered through the air and there at the end was a closed-up lotus flower of brilliant crystal. There were no leaves, but its roots were sunk into the ground and the concrete, and from within it shone a brilliant light.

It would be pretty, it would almost be beautiful were it not for the thing that was coiled around the flower, a creature straight out of one's worst nightmare that was all angles that did not make sense, with too many limbs each ending in a different spike or weapon or stinger. It turned its five-eyes head towards her in a sudden, jerking motion, it made no sound as it barrelled down the alleyway towards her, the guardian of Taylor.

It made no sound of pain when she ripped its limbs off, as she moved too fast and followed instinct and the Will's direction to avoid the monstrosities own attempts to strike her.

She had never had self-defence or martial arts training, but when you were being directed by something so unutterably vast, what did it matter?

In moments and a blur of motion it was over.

She forced her legs to move to the flower, she reached up with a mechanical hand and ripped off the first petal, each of which was easily the size of a door. Upon hitting the ground it shattered like glass.

Another petal, peeling back the layers that surrounded her target.

Curled up in the flower was a thing .

Its left side was changing faster than the right, its face was half and half. The left side was a blank, alien mask with long spurs extending outwards and long tendrils, the half was human and at rest, the solitary eye closed and looking so very peaceful even as it was eroded away, warped and changed into something else. The left arm was thinner, terminating in a long spike reminiscent of a praying mantis and from its waist were two long, spiked limbs even as other, new ones were growing out alongside. The outfit the half person had worn was damaged and pierced in places, the helmet and visor utterly broken apart and laying beside her.

A dozen green eyes on the alien side of her friend's face focused on Emma as she stood there, all staring with alien intelligence that she could not even begin to contemplate.

"... Tay."

When she took the final step up onto the flower, now devoid of petals, her legs were stiff, moving was hard, the crystallisation had almost reached her lower spine now.

Gritting her teeth she forced her body to move, breaking her feet out of the grasping crystal and moving to her knees to be roughly on the same level as her friend. Even if the crystal locked her in place like this, she would still be able to reach Taylor.

Emma had faced down the knowledge that she would lose her life to the crystal a long time ago, and for a moment she had been safe, she had been cured.

Now she was throwing it all away.

"Tay! Tay!" she shouted, increasingly loud, and yet her friend still sat there, sleeping as she was consumed.

Emma gripped her friends' shoulders and shook her, she called, she pleaded and she begged like she had in the past to wake Taylor from her fugues. and yet there was nothing. Her own crystallisation was speeding up as well, even as the Will fought back and did its all to slow the condition.

Ah... so she had attracted the attention of the Valley… of the Spider itself, perhaps?

She could once again feel alien thoughts and impulses that transmitted through the crystal.

This was not working.

"Tay!" she practically screamed down, as if trying to transmit the name through the crystal that was once more linking them together.

The crystal was a bond of some level between them, the more she crystallised, the more she could feel it again. The prosthetic limbs had spared her from the crystallisation, but it had also been a barrier between them on some level, she could hear it again. Taylor was having such a lovely dream…

"T͕͉͑̏å͙͈ͮy̘̌!"

A twitch.

Emma raised a hand and brought it down to slap Taylor--

The human eye opened.

It was brilliant and bright, in a moment Emma saw the full inhumanity behind it even as at once her body felt warm, it was like she was being blasted with fire.

Radiation, she knew it deep down. This place, already hostile to life, was suffused with gamma rays, and so was Taylor now.

Her arm jerked to a stop as silvery threads burst from her friend's body, from the crystalline hair that fell from the human side of her head. The threads seized her, held her in place, cutting and lacerating crystal and skin.

The solitary pupil dilated as it stared at her.

"T-Taylor, it's me!" she said through the pain even as she pushed against the silver threads.

The eye stared, it was focusing more and more.

With a herculean effort, Emma pushed with all her might, and then there was a crunching sound. The silver threads cut through it as the mechanical arm broke at the wrist as she lurched forward, losing her balance. The clubbed wrist smacked into the side of Taylors head, jerking it to the side. The eye refocused at the shock of the impact, for the first time it blinked in confusion as some vague semblance of an expression formed.

"... Ë̹̖́̌͊ͅ...E̠̦̠̊m̭̐'͔͇̳̖͐͐ͦͯͪs̯̥̘ͩ?"

It looked hard to speak like that, with only half a mouth. It sounded wrong as well, Emma had heard it once or twice before, the influence of that thing in her friend's voice, making it distort and sound like crystals creaking and splintering to create sound.

"Taylor, wake up!"

Realisation dawned on her friend's face, the eyes widening in abrupt horror.

The crystal was falling off Taylor, the alien face was reshaping itself back to how it was beforehand, even if it was now fully made of crystal. The mantis-like limb was becoming human, the inhuman ones were withering and falling away.

She was moving, slowly, like one waking up slowly moving their fingers and shifting, she pushed herself up, fully mobile as a bright light flared within Taylors chest, like a miniature sun or bright star declaring its existence to the world, only to then dim, still bright but no longer blinding.

Emma, though, couldn't move.

Her body was set in place.

Despite herself, Emma gave a bitter chuckle as Taylor finished pushing herself up, glancing past Emma and then focusing back on her. When she spoke up, her voice sounded more normal than before.

"Emma? Where..." Taylor looked around, "the Valley..."

"Yeah..."

"I just... I heard the Spider and..." she looked like she wanted to pause to swallow, and yet her inorganic body had no saliva to do so with. "Emma, I'm not a Parahuman, it was the Spider all along using me--"she was about to work herself up, wasn't she? She had seen this in Taylor before, getting all ahead of herself…

"I know."

"You... know?"

"... I said I would make sure you were fine, didn't I?" she said, her last words to her friend before they split up to enter the Endbringer shelter.

She forced a smile as the crystal reached her sternum.

The Will wasn't doing anything now, now that she had done her job on its behalf, the nebulous force had disappeared. She had stopped Taylor turning into... whatever she would have become, Emma didn't know, and that was all the Will cared about... if she had fully transformed, would there even have been any humanity left?

And an inhuman Taylor… what would it be capable of, without human morals?

"The Spider's coming, it wants me to..."

Taylor's eyes were unfocused, she was speaking with it. This time, Emma did not interrupt her.

What would her parents think if they could see this scene, Emma and Taylor, one fully crystallised and the other one just a talking head on a body locked in place.

The world was not fair... but neither was the universe.

"I can hear it, Emma, in my head..." Taylor said, softly, her eyes returning to the moment.

"Force it to fight Leviathan then, make it do something good for once in its miserable life..." she said, an order. "Get Leviathan out the city so it doesn't fuck even more up."

Between them silence fell for a moment. Taylor was not looking her in the eyes as if ashamed. Emma, on the other hand, could not really look at anything apart from her friend. Were it not for the horror of the situation, Taylor would almost look beautiful as crystal, but not as beautiful as when she was flesh and bone even with that gleaming star in her chest. But Taylor could move, she could live, which is what mattered...

The crystal reached the midpoint of her throat.

Ah... so little time to spend...

"I don't want to crystallise, Taylor."

Her friend looked back at her, and Emma saw the exact moment that realisation struck. Taylor's mouth opened to object, to refuse—

"Please, Taylor, please... I knew when I did this I wouldn't..." her voice faltered, her throat constricted painfully as the voice box became more and more solid, "get out of this."

Taylor jammed her eyes shut as if trying to block out the truth and reality of everything, and then, at once wrapped Emma up in a hug that seemed to convey so much in such a short amount of time. There was so much that Emma wanted to say... but she couldn't.

She wouldn't, even if she could anymore.

Instead, she closed her eyes and took comfort in the arms of the person she loved.

~~~~~

Ȉ̯̫͑̈ͫṇ̺̻̜̊ͮ̿̈̒t͈͊ͨè̺͓͍̊̾r͈͙͈̱͍̽͂̋̈r̺̬̳͊ͦ̈́̓ǘ̙͕̗̬̮͗́ͣp̞͇͙̹͑̏t̞͗ȋ͈͔̏o͚͍̩̟̯͑̾̎n̹̱ͮͯ̇ ̥͓̈̑̑t̻͕̖ͨͦ̊ͧ̓ó̠͖̮ ͉̱͈̈̇m̻ͫ̋e͎̭̺̿̋̋ͦ̊t̟̤͔͉͎ͪͧ͒̅ḁ̞̤̭͆ṃ̰̘̤̪͆̍o̱̜͓͂͑̓r̯̪͐̈̂̈́̂p̹͈̖ͤ̃̒ͯh͕̻ͩͅo̼̲̥̍͑ͬ́̚s̱͖̓ȋ͖̪s̯͍̬ͮͦ͊̚ ̪̭̪̺͐ͮ̈́͛͐t̪̹̺̬ͤͦͯ́ͦe͉͍̊̊͌ͩ̋ͅr̲̬̳̞̦ͤm̝̼ͧ́̐i̦͚͗̓͂͊n͖̲̘̅̄ͅa̖͕̭͆̂t̖̣̍ͩe̼͉̙̒̂ͫd̫̰̼̲ͬ

Where once was a person, her arms now gripped nothing but dust, less than dust... her nuclear heart had pulsed for just a moment, a burst to grant the last wish of her friend.

P͚̜̫͉̂͛͛̚ȑ͚̟̟̬͇e͚͛͗̅ͫp͙͙̿̾͐a̝̲̾͐̈́r͗̏ͦͅi̫̟͔̺̓̊́n̠̑̋g̮͉̜̭̐̔̒̽̒ͅ ͉̜̲̤̿̇́̌͑ṫ̻̗o̬͕̗̚ ̘̖̯ͪ̆ͫ̔ͫr͇͋̾ͅe͕̘͕̖̼ͭs̩̜̲̎̔u̬̪̬͉͊̈m̝̀̔̇e͚̩̍ͧ͋ ̭̠̯̃͊D̯̀r̻̗͎̹̣͆o͙͓̜͎̤͊͒ͬ̂̚n͉̦̽̂̅ͯe̹͔͚̖͊ͨ̎ͩ ̫̞͖̭̋ͪ͒m̙̤͆e̩͍̘͂̓ͦṱ̺̟ͧ̽ͅͅa͈̪͚̲̹̓m̺̜̦͑o̬̭͇̩̪ͮ́ͯͥr̤͉̾͗p̭̣͍ͩͫͨh͍̤͑͋̄ͪo̭͙̭ͯ̎̈́̔̋s̪ͧ̊̒̏ï͕̹͇̥̞̉ͫͨ̚s̤̺͉ͬ--

R̪͇̝̮̞̣̰̰̹͈͖̘͌ͣ͑̋̓̚E̟̰̞̲̥̣̜ͪͧͮ̊J̠̱̤̲̆͑̔E̜͖̞͇̙̬̫̘̱̎̓͐̌͒ͯ̾̐ͧ̀̊C͕ͨ̓T͇͖͎̲͙̘̝̫͕͎͚̬̔̄ͬ͌̑̋̉͛͑̂̐ͅĒ̝̙͉͉̰̘̠̜̹̹̂͛ͪD̞͖̯̠̝͐̇͆̅ͩ̉̔̑͛ͦͣ̽

Her scream shattered the crystals of the valley around her as she let out every bit of emotion she had been holding back. She drove her fist into the floor to push herself up and interrupted the Spider with the sheer force of her spite and willpower with such force that its demand was drowned out.

She took her first step, then the next, as streams of data filled her mind. Powers she had seen, that she had experienced, all of them coming to her and at her fingertips as she began to run to do what

5.5

Taylor's feet smashed delicate crystals as she ran, they crunched and cracked easily under her weight. Were she still flesh and blood, the spurs and edges would have pierced the soles of her feet.

The mere act of walking here was lethal.

The air around her was suffused with radiation and the song of distant stars, the song that had lulled her to sleep for so long, which she had listened to at the heady borderline between sleeping and waking. Gleaming spires and plants of crystal dominated, strange forms and creatures that could never be properly comprehended due to their thousand-faceted bodies.

The creatures ignored her, they slithered and swam, crawled and capered around her as she pushed herself ever onwards down the street at a speed faster than a human could run.

Without the sensation of pain and need for oxygen she could run forever.

So long as the miniature sun within her chest continued to burn, so long as her body drew in hydrogen and other elements then she could push forward. The limits imposed by her pathetic Human body were gone, and yet her mind reeled, still human with the unrelenting flow of stimulation and information flowing in both through her own senses and from afar.

All this time...

All along she was nothing but the eyes of the horror that had crashed upon this planet. Hours at the computer, locked in place. It was not her own fascination, was it? Directions and directives, how many of her own choices had she made in the last year and a half? How many nudges, how many flat-out orders--

She was still her, though.

Human beings had so many philosophies to cover just the questions that flickered through her head.

If, piece by piece, you replaced every cell and atom of a person with alien crystal from beyond the stars would they still be the same person, so long as they had the same continuity of thought then perhaps, she was still the same as she was before just in a different form, if her personal reality was little different to before, if she still thought that she was Taylor Hebert...

All of those questions were fundamentally insignificant at this moment.

There was little time to ruminate, to think. Even if she could parse through a million points of data in a second and weigh up different theories, she didn't want to think, she didn't want to dwell upon the question of what she was.

She had to act, there was nothing else she could do, if she stopped for a second that she would feel the warmth, would feel the weight against her shoulder and the sound of her voice in her ears. Emma...

I̤̔n͓̞ͪs͙̝̓͐i͉̦͒g̥ͨͅn̟͒i̙̬̽̂f̦͋ï͈c̘̳̉͌a̭̰͐n̰̟̒͗ț̌

S̺̝ͮh͈͇ͬe͙̐ ̬̒w̥͛a̹͗s̰͕͑ ̣̑̆n̤ͤe̙͙͌v̫̟̾ͧe̗̮̔́r̪̭̉ͩ ͈̲̎ǐ̙̞̐n͍ͨͩș̩̏̉i͉̞ͬͯg̬̊ͭn͓̺͋̃i̼ͩf̰̺̈́ͮi̜͈ͮͩc̼̓ḁ̩ͤn̲̾ͮt͇ͫ͗!̝̱͊

She snapped back, right against the Spiders statement.

It had been watching through her eyes, listening through her ears, it had felt her sensations all this time, and it regarded her as nothing, regarded Taylor just as an extension, a tendril... and Emma as less than that. The fundamental humanity of her interactions with the rest of the world, with Emma... it was all just information to be assessed and analysed in the same way a machine would look at a database.

There was a fundamental inability to understand human nature, despite its vast power.

Every second it was analysing, it was weighing things up. It had calculated the probability of forcing her to sleep just now, again.

The sheer gulf between her full capability and that of the Spider was as vast as the void between two stars. Each communication was less so a phrase than an iron cast declaration that was sent reeling through her skull. But, even if she was an ant before a skyscraper, she had to act, she had to do what Emma had told her to do! Not out of obligation to her friend... her... only real friend oh god Emma was gone--but also because it was right! Because if the Spider reached Brockton Bay, then the city was gone.

Nothing could survive the Spiders' arrival… especially with how much had already been ruined and destroyed when it used her as a seed for this new Valley to sprout?

Every street she ran down was consumed and overrun by the Valley, the creeping vines and creepers, the vast spires and trees, the mosses and lichens, the lifeforms of the valley sung and fed upon one another. Above her the stars gleamed, there was no ozone layer or magnetosphere to protect anyone within from the solar winds, the same solar winds that the Dark Matter Plankton incorporated into her body fed off.

Taylor had no doubt that people had been caught by the new Valley

It may already be too late, but she had to try!

She just had to do something, she had to fight Leviathan, she had to bring it to the Oort-Spider, the Spider could destroy it if she couldn't, and that would stop it from coming to the Bay. Right?

It was a desperate hope she clung to, it was something Emma had told her to do, surely if she did that then things would be… no, they would not be much better. But if nothing else, no matter what happened next, whether the Spider crushed her will in an instant and she lost her fundamental humanity, she had to make sure that it did not reach Brockton Bay.

Her home. Emma's home.

Her home on this planet, not in the stars that had dominated her dreams for so long.

It was her duty, she was a Hero, and she would cling onto her duty and Emma's command if it gave her direction right now, a direction that was not the whims of the Spider.

D̬ͮ̽r̥͌ͯ̀ȏ͔̓ͪn̦ͣ̎ͧͅe̼̳ͣ ̼̐ͅi͙̱͌ͤs̺̖͖͐̆̌ ͕͉͎͛̈̊h͍͖͙͐͒ͥẽ͓ͬ͛l͍͚̽̈d̼ͬ̈ ̺̉̂b̭̳͋ͩa̞̯ͫċ̖k̩͓̃̐̂ ̬̾b͚̺͕̑ͩy̳̭͐ ̩̠̱̄̿͋'̹̹̰̑͐̇h̻ͪͨu̦͙̯ͣ̓ͩm̩̭ͯͥa͉̹̤̚n͖͉ͪ ̪̣͖̂m̗̂͑̄o̖͋̾̌r̪̳̫͒͗á̹̜ľ̠̪͚̂̄i̻̫ͮͯ̑ṯͬͥy̮̩ͫ̿̃ ̥̲͖ͪf̻͗̅ṙ̪̲͍ạ̦͖̑̋ṁ͉͌e̜͈̙͑̂̀w̬̄͆o͓͓̬̾̈r̳ͩ̃̚ǩ̪̜̓'̜̝̀̽͛

M̤̆a̠ͭx͙̤͑ĭ͔ͩm̝ͧi͚̱͛s̮͈͒i̼͙̍ǹ̲͚ͧg͎̟ͤ ͙̝̃̊c͖͎̽̔o̥̎m̖͗ͩb͙̫ͥ̓a̟̝͋t̼͑ ͕̲́a̐̆ͅb̖͛i̠̜̒ͨḷ͗̓i̱͐ͤt̜ͧy̞̱͌͗ ̲̂p̲ͮ̏r͇̗̾̏i̬̖̾o̗̩̊̂ṙ̟̠ĭ̤͌t͖͉ͫi̙ͧs̹̪ͫė͕d̟̯͂.͈ͮ ͉ͩC̙ͨȗ̩ͬr͕̤̋r͎̯̄ͬẹ͌́n̤̺͗t̻̓̓ ̪̿s͚ͥ̄t̥̪̊̚a̞̣̅̈́t̰̾e̹͊ ͍ͯo͖̪̍͑p̱ͧ̿t̺͔͛͗i͚ͩm̺̏̓i͖̊͆s̩͍͊͑e͔͐d̙̤ͯ ̲͔ͫ͊f̻͋o̦̘̔̃r̞̪̊̅ ̯̅͛n̝̅̔è͇i̮͈͌ͨt͎́ẖͫ̍e͚̥͋r̬͆ ̻͌r̗̲̎ẽ̥c͍ͨ̈o̳̥ͦn͎̖̏͛i͈̮̿̀s̯̽s̖̈́a͉̗ͪ̇n͖̄c̥͙̆̏e̟ͯ̋ ̳̐̋ͅo̭ͣ̐r̼̓́ ͈̄̄c̭̞͐̈́ó̝m͔̲͂̇b͓̬͌â̤̪ͬt͈͌

So what!

So fucking what!

She could still act, she could still... she could still live like this, even if it was just a puppeteered half life. Even if she was just a hunk of rock, she was still alive, she still had her free will! She would fight back every moment for it, she would scream and shout and have it ripped from her kicking and screaming.

Even if it would just take a single moment for the Spider to impose it, even if it was all pointless to try, she would still do it.

Let her remain as she was, let her try.

Every second information was coming to her, powers... powers that she had experienced before, that the Spider had analysed through her. She could use them, just if she had the permission to do so.

Even if she was nothing but a Drone, nothing but a hunk of crystal given purpose and mobility by the Spider, let her live and be useful in her own way! She may be utterly reliant on the whims of the Spider to keep her on life support, but that didn't mean that she was not alive in her own right!

The Spider could not be beaten, not by her. It was such a hopeless despair just thinking about it, remembering that night where she saw it crash, when she read, afterwards about the task force that had been almost completely wiped out.

But that was the point she was trying to make!

The Spider was vast and powerful in its own right, what was the point of making her a mindless automaton!

She had been more useful as an independent, thinking mind, right!

It was an appeal, a desperate, pathetic one. In just the minute that she had been running from her cocoon, from where she had last held Emma, the Spider could have resumed the metamorphosis at any moment. Instead, it was engaging her in this one-sided, warped approximation of a conversation, her frenzied, desperate thoughts against its own analysis that was more akin to an explosion in her consciousness than any manner of speech.

A momentary pause in its communications, and she leapt upon it.

Look at what she had done in the time that it had been looking through her, the time in that it had given her just a tiny fraction of its abilities, look at the ways she had used it and how it was her own choices that had made her useful! In her brief time as Ordinant she had been far more useful. The Grey Boy Bubbles! She had been so keen to help, the Spider had not considered them of any great worth and look at all the powers and observations it had been able to make, look at the way that it had increased her capacities to impress her superiors!

With the benefit of the hindsight provided by her new form, her new unrelating perspective, she could see the web she was in this entire time.

But it was her small actions, her movements that had caused the web to tremble, that had brought in more metaphorical flies.

Look at Bakuda, look at all the effects she had been exposed to! The Spider could have just piloted her with far greater efficiency than her own actions, but consider everything she had been exposed to in that time and the wealth of information she had provided! Gaze upon them and dare to imagine or simulate what she could do with time and more ability!

Recognise the virtues of her actions! Admire the power of her independence to coincide with its own desires and goals!

She bombarded the Spider with memories, with experiences in which she had done good, in which her initiative had borne fruit for not just her, but for it as well. She was clutching at straws and she knew it, her body moved but her mind was elsewhere, her legs moved automatically as she threw every little incident she could at the Spider.

Please...

It was a fundamentally human instinct to beg like that, as her thoughts ran in such a frenzy even as her body carried her ever forwards.

Review every action she had taken, everything that she had chosen to do rather than been directed to perform. Consider the randomness of her actions and the benefits that it had brought, not always the most efficient, but fruitful in their own way!

Silence.

Or, the approximation of silence. on the outside, nothing would be apparent. The conversation between herself and that thing took place as swiftly as the speed of thought.

But just a second or two of silence from the Spider was the same as a yawning gulf, the same as a Human taking a moment to consider an action... except that instead of a limited biological intelligence it was an alien monstrosity with the calculating capacity that would outstrip the combined powers of the entirety of mankind.

Oh god, had it always been like this, waiting patiently with these abilities, parsing through every sight, sound, and sensation that she provided it?

D͕̓ͬr͍̜̝̐̃ȍ͎̦n̮̗̂e̬̗ͣs̲̭ͧ̈ ̹͓͈̓̓̅c̩̬̏ù̘̠ͨr̙͚̐̑̋r̭͉̩ͥ̾ȅ̖̻͕ͥͭn̤ͬt̠͇͌̽ͦ ̼ͪͭŝ͈̥̪̄ͭe̗̭ͬl̟ͬf͇̳̾͐̾-̳͚̋d̪̩̪̚i̠͙͐r͙̤ͪ̽ͫe̠ͦc͙̠͌t͔ͮ̌i͎̦ͧ̊v͈̟̄ẽ͇̩̣:̭̃ ̲͍̀͌C̫̬̐ͤo̞͖̞͗̃͐m͈̉̋̋b̦̮̭͂ā͕t̜̟̥ͩ ̖ͪ̀'͖ͮ̂L̞͓͚̓̋e̗̤̠̒̚v̘̠͑ͦ̔ǐ̱ͮa͖̰̥ͥͯt̮̖̬ͩ̇h̖̥ͨ͗̀å̰̤̘̆n͎̰̠͐'͔͇̯̈̓͑ ̪̖̌a͙̎ͨn̥͉̣̈́̓d͎̘͔ͣ͒̚ ̖̝̊̚t̫̠̾e̞͈̦̐r̜̔ͫṃ͊ͬͨĩ̖̋n͉̖͇͌ͯ͌a͚ͥt̮͉͖͐͑e̝ͭͧͨ/̭͇͑̇b̆ͅr͓͉͕̀ͪĩ̲͍̝ͥ͊ň̻ḡ͎̘͊ ͕̜͊ͬt͎ͯo͈̱͑ͮ ͉̃̈ͅ'̭̠ͣ̅O̼͖͈ͫ̎ọ̞̏̿r̲̊ͫt͉̳̲͒ͬ-͖͒ͅȘ͚ͤͬ̂p̱̩̭͂ͪͮi̗̓d̰̏̇e̦̍͒́r̠̔̽͒'̻͇̺ͬ

It was a statement of her own goal, her desire.

But it could as easily be a question, a demand for confirmation, and she confirmed back with as much energy as she could, with every little mote of anger and passion and rage that she felt.

Even if she loathed the Spider with every ounce of her being, even if the crystallisation had taken Emma away from her... Emma had still given her life so that Taylor could have this opportunity to live, even if it required her to do the superhuman that she would attempt with everything she had.

Let her prove her own worth! Let her do what the Spider needed and make every attempt, there was nothing to lose, right!?

T̖̯̞ͤi̮̟͎̍͐m̯̭͖ͦ̽ͥe̯͖̋ ͚̄ͣͪu͇͛n̠̤̿̈́̋t̰͕̜͌i͙̪͍ͤl̰͑ͦ ̗̯̄̄̆a͇̤ͫr̲͂͂r͔̼͇̄̀̓i̩͍̔ͤͦv̩̿̃a̜̓ͯ̑l͖̠̦̄̄ ͖͛̅(̰̓̔͆H̘͙ͭͧ̒ò̙̟̋̃s͈̠̍͑̔t̼̼̗͊ ̖̖͉ͮͭ̍t͔̺ͬ͛̚ḭ̤̚m̭ͪͨ̌e̯͚̰ͭ̿̑ ̖̩̭ͨ͆f͓̥̉̾r̗̄͛ạ͒m̜̮̥ͭͫ̍ë̮̣̼́)̖͔͐̉:̫̯̆ͨ͌ ͖̏̇̈7̗̯͙ͮ.͉̒̚1̳͉́͒9̘ͫ3̮̅̾2̥ͫͥ8̩̏ͤͯ3͇͈̇͑1͇̜̓̽ m̩̞͛ḯ͓̱̼ͭ͑n̳ͤu͚̽͑̽t͇ͫe̹ͯ̃s̤̹̑

D͔̔r̮̟ͮ̐o͕ͫn̘̍ḙͦ̎ ̣̲͗m̑ͅe̗͛̒ț̎a͖͛m̪̠ͩ̋ö͓ͫr̲ͤͩp͕̮̏͋h̼̮̍ọ̙͑ṣ̠͛̅i̫̼͒ͧs͓̐ ̺̿w̝̅̚ḯ̙̝̑l͇͔ͮl̙̖ͪ̈ ̖̱͛ḃ̳̲ͦe͉̋ ͍͈̽̍s͕͚ͤͮũ͈s͔̤̎p̱̐ͧe͉̱ͤṇ̒ḓ̏ͩë̱̪̿d͕͛ ͓ͮ̄u̬̼̍ṗ͇̖̈́o̠͓ͥn̫̚ͅ ͕̥ͫd̞͛̒r̗̓̃o̠͑̚n̻ͦ͆ë̙̓ ̥ͥs̩̀u̲͕ͮͧc̘̋c̩ͬë͙͍́̾s̝̟̉̉s͇̓̈.̜̎ ̣̊D̝͋̏r̭͙̐ŏ̮̐n̘̏ͦe̦̋ ̱̥ͨ̽m̥̭͑͑ȇ̪̎t͉̃a̙̾̚m̞͎̄̌o̮̟͐ͬr̳̃ͫp͙͎̈́̆h͔͌̓o̬̼̓s͙̔ī̫ṡ̘̝̈́ ̮ͥw͉̋̈́i̯͓ͨl̠͋ͨl̖ͯͅ ̪͛p͔̓̽r͓͕ͮ̔o̗͉̿c̳͛ẽ̘ē͓d̩͌ ̣̩̓̓u͓ͪ͋p͖͈ͫ̚o̹̙̓n͇̖̈́ͫ ̩̞̑d̝͖ͫ́r͇̔̄i͉̎̅ǒ̮̝̓n͖̓e͉͕͋̏ ͔̚ͅf̲ͣa̩ͦi̯̞͗ḽ̙̎u͉ͩř̟̈́ĕ̟͈

E̦͍͇ͧ̊̐ṅ̖̩͈̐ḡ̥̯a̔̿ͅg̠͔ͭͣḯ̦̞̝ͤn͚̲̥͑g̞̗͓͐̋ ͉̻̻̃ͭc͕ͮ͌ȁ̘̃p͇̖̬̊́a̠͙̽̒ċ̟̼̞ͯi̜̺̓̓̓ț̖̻̔ͭi̫̊͒e̲̱̽s͔̞͉͂̃:͓͙̙̈́ ̥̲̓P͍̬̪ͩa̻̟̿͑̃r͎͆̄ā̼̂ḏ͊̚i͍̾̊g̞͗m͔̿ͬ ̤̣͊ͅI̙̽͛̌n̗̂f̦̲̆̋ͪl̪ͯͧ͗ḁ̩̈́t̺̱̙̂i̺͍̇͂o͓͕͖ͬ̋ṉ̋ͦ ̞̱̓a̮ͤͥͬǹ͚ͮa͔̓̈l͖ͯ̓̚y̪̾s̖̲ͣï͇̙̮͒s͉̗̬̐̾̊;̣̻ͧͪ̍ ̺͇̽p̱̔͂ͅͅr̦ͦe̥͌v̖̈́ͦ̒i̫̾̾ö̫́̎̈́u͙̝̫̅s̘̖͋̋ͦl͙ͨ͋y̗̼̓ͮͧ ͖̫ͦ̚o̰͆b̗̞̂s̜̃ͩ͆ȅ͚ͯr̖̔͌v̤ͣe̪ͪ̓d͖̻̚ ̩͛a̩̪̔ͥb̰̤͎̍͋i̞ͥl̥̇ĩ̺̦ͩͧt͖͗̊i͍͚ͤe̮͓̰͌s̠ͮ͐̈́

Ŕ͔ͅe̹̋s̟̭͑ͭt̮͊r̮͍̂a̝ͧͪi̤̘̍́n̳̖͑ ͖̖ͦc͓ͧ͑a̬̓ͩp̺͈̾̓ạ̎c̝̈ͨi̖͎ͯ͒t̳ͯy̘ͫͭ:̲̥ͤ͂ ̰̳ͬ̓o̪̲̔f̻̞̊̉f͖̘̂é̬̄n̟̱͂ŝ̖i̯ͮv͉̬ͤe͍̟͒̒ ̱͉ͬu͍͑t͎̯̾ȋ͎̯̚l͉̇̽i̪͐̚s̗̤̓a̜͈̽t͉̱̓i͕̤ͨ̅o̖ͧn̝ͨ ̬͍̀ͪȍ̚ͅf̼̪̏̐ ̤ͭf̗̙͂u̲̖͂ŝ̞̼ī̦̩̊o̭ͫn̼ͦͅ ̞̃̓c͈͐͋o̬̲̒ṟ͍͌͌e̖͉̔̍

She had seven minutes to either destroy Leviathan, or bring it to the Spider.

The chance was hers, and with this brief opportunity she had to achieve the near impossible.

Every power that she had observed on the Spiders behalf, the powers of some of her fellow Wards, of the Gray Boy victims who triggered upon being freed... all of them were being opened up to her to use. Dozens of powers at her fingertips, within moments she was reviewing them, putting them together as she prepared to do war with the Endbringer.

5.6

7 minutes.

Seven minutes to fight and defeat Leviathan or bring it to the Spider.

Dozens of powers and abilities were surging in the forefront of her mind.

She escaped the tyranny of gravity, floating through the air upwards. Aegis' power had a levitation aspect, and the brute aspect was fearsome enough, and yet she could fly faster than he could, she could survive more than he could. So many little calculations in the background, within a moment she was accelerating, learning the dynamics and movement, the inhibitions of the power that her fellow Ward had learned to work around with time and experience.

But she did not have that same time and experience, she had to learn on the fly.

Maximising her survival potential.

Delegating non-essential parts of her biology to other purposes, releasing the long, silvery threads.

Revolution Web, the silken threads used by the Spider to entrap prey and assist it in travelling.

A dozen extended and she pulled herself forward, using a combination of her fellow Ward's levitation and the web to manoeuvre, gripping onto one of the vast crystal spires and using the threads to slingshot herself with greater speed into the sky.

From high above... Brockton Bay looked a mess.

The furthest outskirts of the city had not been touched by the crystal, but much of it had been consumed by the Valley, the outskirts were not as bad, or at least, the vast, plant-like crystal lifeforms had not begun growing there, but given long enough they would. She could see a small number of flying figures, in the distance there was the wail of sirens of many sorts, even fire. The bay itself had been captured within the valley, transformed into a vast mass of ice with spires of crystal jutting out.

Her eyes darted this way and that.

Where the fuck was Leviathan!

Every second that passed was impossibly precious, another moment in which the chances of her success slipped away.

It was not so easy as following the sounds of conflict, screams and sirens could be heard from across the city, alongside the song of the stars and the various cries and clicks of flora and fauna of the Valley below her. One might think that a giant rampaging monster would be easy to find in a city, but no, not at all.

It was a shame that her armband was ruined when she hit the ground, she could really have used it right now, it was taking entirely too long to find the Endbringer and her frustration was growing. The Spider was not making any attempts to help or direct her the right way, so she was having to hope to chance into it, or to see Capes flying towards it... but the city was dead... metaphorically. There was not a person on the crystallised streets, what movement their was tended to have multiple body segments and legs.

Her home was ruined...

4.51 minutes.

Wait

There.

Leviathan.

The Endbringer was standing atop a pile of dead Crystal life forms, shards and broken bodies from the dozens of creatures that had attacked it laying around the City Killer. They had been buying time, distracting it, grappling it, ostensibly to make sure the Spider could reach it, but it suited her purposes just as well. The water echo was gone; indeed the only water present was under its feet, which in a moment flash froze or evaporated, only to surge forth anew.

A desperate way to avoid touching the crystal, constantly creating a barrier between it and the ground.

She had to do this.

R̟̮͛ͦe̙̦͑̓c̦ͬͬa͉͋l̻̇l̗ͨ̓i͍̘ͩn͖̳͊g̰̘͐̎ ̞ͣͩP̤̙̒͗å̩͇r̯ͧa̖ͦ͆d̟̜̍́i̜͔ͬg̖̻͐m̭̲̾ ͇̜͆I̮̘ͯñ͇͇͊f͖͖ͩͥl͓͙ͣâ͖̘t̮̙ͩ͌i̩ͩo̲̿̓ń͔:̹̑̆ ̱̒̀E͙ͦn͖̦͑͗é̻r̳̈́g̖ͭy͉ͣ ͖̺ͤm͇̌a͖̣ͭ͑n͇̦̄̿i͕͊p͙ͭ̚ū̩l͓̋ͤă̟ͧt̠̠̃i̠͕̅̏o̤ͧͫn͍̈́ ̻͉̊f̼̭̿ȯ͉̥̽c͔ͣ͌ụ͕́͗s̲̐͐e̤͌ḍ̩͗ͯ ͓̌͛a̖͌ṛ̝̆o̪̩̽͒u̻͒̔ń̥̝d̘͍ͨ ͎͈̑͊d̩͍͆̋i͍ͭs͉̙͗͂c͍ͫͧ-͎̈́ͨs͕͛h̝̞̊̆a̮̾͒p̥̓e̦͖̽͌d̰̹ͣ ͈̂̐h̦̩̿͛ả͕̱r̼͎͑ͧd͕͐͌-̫̳ͭ̀l̜̏ī͔̝g̯͎͌̐h͉̭̔ť͕ͬ ̥ͯͮȇ͓n̖̂ͮe̺̓͒r͕̭̀g̟ͮy̻̙͛̂ ͙̖͒͌p͎̖̓ͤř͓͉̐o̲̐j̳̤͗e̦͂c̩̠̽̋t̤̋̋i͚͐l̖ͫ̏ě̲s͔̙̋.̻͙ͬ̉ ̩͔ͬC͇̳ͯ̈́a̞͒͛n͙͖̂n̥͌ọ̦ͬt̹͛ ̭̻͛̐ḫ̗̊͐â̮r͙̾͛m̞̙̊̑ ͨͬͅs̝̗̊͑i͚͚̎́l͙̫̒i͔̜ͬc̪ͧả̯t̼ͤ͒e̪͛ͥs̱̀

The Texan cape she had once watched a video of, it was not an incredible power but--

For an opening barrage it would be fine. Was Leviathan made from a silicon? Well, one way to find out.

In the video, the woman had had poor aim and only so much strength with which to throw her discs, but Taylor had no such limitation. She could calculate perfectly well the trajectory, she could take Leviathan by surprise.

R̥̹̈́̔e͔ͫͦc͕̘̉a͇̺̾͗l̥͛̇l̟̝͗̓i͖̿ͮn͇̼̎ͫg̱̱ͪ̽ ̰͒P̟͇͆a̬̮͋̃r͇̃ḁ̻̔͆d͚͚̏ḯ̼g̠̪ͤm͈̓ ̪̹̍I͇ͧn̙̋͐f͈͎͗͊l̺ͫ̂ạͧi̯̹̽t̩̋̂ô̹̞̇ñ̠̥:̌ͨͅ ͚̈́́L̼ͬo̟̗ͦͤc͎͋̔a̪̺͒l̝̀̈́ĭ̩̍s̞̙ͨ̔ë̮́d̬ͭ̏ ̤͇ͮcͣͅö̹͇͒n̜̓͌ͅt̜̲̋ͩr̦̹͗̿ǒ͙̻l̹̫̇ ̰͆o̰̐̐f̥̒ ̦ͦg̻ͭr̝͕ͧa̭ͫ͂v͍ͯi͉ͬ̑ṱ͊̿y̲ͩͮ ̼̂̾

Within moments of her arrival the threads of revolution web were stretching, reaching out to form a barrier around them, a hemisphere of near invisible webbing to keep Leviathan here. The gravity intensified for all but her, delicate crystals shattered under their own weight as she imposed a new reality upon the battlefield, and Leviathan turned just in time to get a light disc to the face. It did very little, and then the true battle began.

Even with its hydrokinesis compromised and the force of gravity increased by ten times, Leviathan was fast.

The running along the surface of water trick still worked even if it was just a few millimetres of liquid between its feet and the crystal, that buffer keeping it safe from the effects of crystallisation. It did not even try to attack her, it ran for the revolution web, tearing at the barrier. No point staying here longer than needed.

The light discs had been ineffective.

Change them, give them serration like a saw, spin them rapidly in place. Increase the revolutions, a hundred, a thousand revolutions a minute, throw. Aim for the legs, see if she could cut them off.

The saw dug into the flesh, spinning in place, slowing steadily until it shattered and faded away, it had left a superficial gash. The light discs were not the answer, she discarded them as a potential armament. The Endbringer had ceased trying to break through the web with brute strength, now it leaped into the air--

She increased the gravity further, from ten times to twenty, thirty, fifty--

If she pushed it too far, would it affect her? So far she had been immune, but gravity was not a force you messed with lightly. Leviathan's leap, which would have cleared the wall of silver thread brought it crashing back down to Earth with a deafening crash that sent a tremble through the ground and barely forced it into a kneeling position, and yet it straightened, or straightened as much as the hunched beast could.

Those eyes focused on her, they had done so earlier on the rooftop, and they did so again now.

In a moment the distance was closed.

Leviathan was too close for the discs--

Adapt.

Her arm broke and was sent flying by the impact as Leviathan caught her with its blow--

Oh no you don't!

Threads of the revolution web burst from her hair, gripping the broken arm within a moment and bringing it back into place where it sealed back into place.

Trading blows with Leviathan in a flurry of swipes and punches, it hit much harder but with each bit of her that chipped or broke off she brought it back to her and locked it back in place, each fraction of a moment that she made contact she ripped away its vital element, some bit of power or life. She could not physically break Leviathan or rip chunks off it, if Alexandria could not then she certainly couldn't, but she had her own Striker power: Ether Drinker.

Before it was limited to just her crystallised arm... of course, now that made sense, she always felt stronger whenever she used that arm to take on a Parahuman, when she killed that man in Boston, when she faced down Purity's attack head on... but now her entire body was a conduit for the vampiric touch.

She leapt forward, trying to grapple onto the Endbringer.

If she could just get a good grip, leech all of its power--

A hammer like blow came straight down and smashed her into the ground, shattering her to pieces, the Endbringer was so quick--

Ȓ͖̰̈́è̦c̫̝ͣa̫̓ͤl̟͉̍̇l̗̘ͬǐ͈̳̈n̼̠ͪg͎͑̓ ̣͐P̱̹͛͛a̭͂̈́r̦ͪ͒a͎̾ḏ̲͋̆i̬̝͆ͤǵ̫m͓͕ͣ ̝͚̌͐I̩͋n̦̊͆f͍̖̑l͚͖ͮǎ̗t̫ͯ͛ï̞͖o͙̳͊n̗͐.̱̄̃ ͍͐A̫̒̂ṋ̚a͚̔̈́ḽ̬͛̇y͍̯ͩṣ̠̂̄ị̖̆s̰̘͛͂:̟̯ͫ ̮͐Ṱ̮́e̪͎̔m̆ͅͅp̟̋o̞̩͗r̫̾a͎͊ͮͅl͔̆ͅ ̮̿r̯͛ê̩̠v̥̑͗e͇̬ͧͮr͚ͯ̎s̳̐i̹̓̓o̩̪͐ṋͧͣ ̞̱̓ͩe̮̳͌f̻̅f̥͎ͨẹ̓č̘͈t͙͆̄ͅ ̯͇̎͌l̘͍ͮi̹̽m͎̌͂i̠̻̎ͭt̖̆́ẹ̯ͦ̅d̥̄ ̘̐t̗ͣo̫̐̓ͅ ͕͇̄w̼̬͋o͍̭̓ŭ̮̆n͉̮ͫ͗d͙ͫs͕͈ͭ ̞̻̆i͍͂͛ṋ͉ͬf̫̀l̯͖͒i̩̜͗ć͓̜̿t̗̣͆́e̘̟ͬd̞͋͌ ̙̳ͭ̅o̼͂n̻͐ͅ ̼̑̋b͇̭̑͐ō̠̗ͣd̪ͯy̩̾

The wound time reversal power from the last day of her loop breaking. Her various pieces snapped back into place and she rolled out of the way of the second blow that had been coming, pushing off the ground and back into the air to face Leviathan.

Fine, if lunging for the creature was not an option that she would just grind it down, she would leech every mote of energy and life from it--

3.3891 minutes.

Leviathan was winding up for one huge blow aimed for her head this time--

R̫̍ḛͦc̲͒a͔ͭl̥͐l̜ͣĩ͖ṋ̎g̗̈ ̜̑P͎̿a̠͒r̯̉a͎̒d̥ͬi̤͆ğ͔m̹̃ ̜̍Î͚n̗ͥf͈̋l̝ͣa͔ͪt͍̚i̗̽õ̠n̬̂:̻͐ ͈̇l̼ͮi̞̅m̰̆ǐ̪ṭͫe̬̎d͎ͩ-̟ͫd̞̐u̝̾ř̭ả͎t͚̏i̳ͧo̘̾n̪ͧ ̤̐t̘͑i͎ͣm̦̂e̦̎ ̪̓s̯̓ț̍o̹͂p͈̏ ͉̿r̠͗ě͉s̖ͦt̼ͪr͈̆i̖ͦc͓ͪt̬́e͎ͫd̖̉ ̝ͯt͇͛o̯͗ ̖͌t͔ͪo̟͒t͈ͩa̗͆l̜̾i̳̊t͚̄y̞ͭ ͓ͬo͈ͤf͈̿ ̟̈a̻̓f͕͆f̼ͥē̫c̟̈́ṱͫe̪ͬd̼̉ ̳̆m̜͐a̯̓s͖͐s̭̄

Ǐ̫ṁ͚p͉̑ọ̏s̯̈́îͅn̥̈́ğ̺ ̠̄l̺ͬì͉m̖̏i̱̽t̥̆e̬̾d̹ͧ ̪̑t͕ͥi̖ͯm̬͂e͎̊ ̹̐s̜̃t̖̒ò͖p͈͆ ̱͐t̩̅ȯ͉ ͉̀'͚͐L͕ͧe̹ͪṿͨi͎͋ã̰t̠ͬḥ́a̗͂n̩̐'͎̐,̠̓ ̥̾d̮͆u͚̎r̜̍å̖t̩̐ỉ͎o̮ͮn̩̓:̱ͤ ̤̇f͔̌i̟̓v̘̔e͙̋ ̘́s̪̋e͕̚c̰̈́o̥̒n̟͌d̠̚s̙̽

R̼̖̿e̞͊c̱̓̾ͅā͔̠ḻͭḽ̃̓i͈͉ͣ͊n̖̘ͮg̮͂ ͓͙̅̈́P̗ͣa̖̰͌͋r͓̠͑͑a̹̍ͅd̝̺̆i̲̪͛g̤̽m͔̫̂̋ ̥̋ͦỊ̖͋n̘͐f̳̤ͯl̫̘ͬͫă̹t̲̊i̖̾ō̦ͅṉ̲ͤ̑:̮̔ ̯͕͆S̺̝ͦ̋p̘͉͊o̲͆ͮn̩̙̐ͦt͍̘͊a̜ͭ́n͎ͭẽ̩̱o̯̅u̝ͮͅs͉̤ͫ ̺͆g͉͖̉e̝̭ͨͥn͔̂ͅe̠̻̿̅r̬͊ͭa͓ͣ̐t͍̮̓î̜̚o͍͛n̖̍ ͓͛̽ͅọ̭͐ͨf͚͂̉ ̦͎̚ẅ͕́ͭa̫̯ͨt̝͗e͎̮̽̈́r̟̔ ̌ͅḭ̓̔n̳̖ͫ̄ ͉̾ͥs͕̎̊p̩͇̔a͔̍͌ć͉̿e̱͈̍ṡ̞͈ ̖͈̑̆f̙͂ȍ͕̙r̮̬ͬḿ͔̘ͫe͔̍r̤̫̊ͧl̖ͩy͉ͬ̎ ̳̗ͧ́o͓͖͆c̱̏́c͉ͮ̾u͓̔̚p̥̓ǐ̗̥͒e̥̙̽d̠͉ͤ̇ ̟̝͛̅b͙̍̈́y͍͂ͥ ̼͓ͬ̓H̙̤̽ͯo̺̟ͭs̲ͤt̪̣̒,͕̔̽ ̭̍

m͔̒ͨa̘̟ͧî̹̰̾n̯͖ͣt̗͋a̠̯ͫͤi̖̱͋̄n͉̺̂ͭi̪ͫ͊n̜͉͌g͖̜̔̓ ͖̠ͨ̽ṣ̮̎̆p͖̩̚e͔͆ḙ͓ͯd̺̽̑ͅ ̝̊a̻̒ͧn̗̓d̮ͫ ͙̻̊̄t͚ͣ̓r̮͎̉a̼̟̍̔j̳̻̄̂e̲ͮ̓c͖ͯͥṱ͂͐ͅo͈ͣr͉̱͋ÿ͖̟́ ̘ͫo̥̰͗f̳ͬ ̤͔ͭ̉m̥͊ͩͅo͈̒̂v̝̉ͫẹ̥ͦͮm͓̒ͭͅe̖̩̊̓ǹ͎t͎͇ͤ.̪̈

She punched forward to meet Leviathan's fist, calling its own water echo power into being but immediately freezing the water in place with Clockblocker's power.

The Endbringer's blow met the immovable, time locked water and the sound of something breaking filled the air as one of the beast's clawed fingers snapped off, within a moment consumed by the crystal of the valley below their feet.

Information surged into her brain, the composition, the make up of the creature, all provided through the assimilation and digestion of that claw. The outer layers were easier to break into, within moments she was parsing through it, and she could feel the Spider doing so as well, using her for her function as a remote observer--

Reaching out, she froze Leviathan in place as it tried to strike her.

Clockblocker's power, one of the very first that she had been directly exposed to to, back when she was undergoing power testing.

The Endbringer was locked in place, fist still extended.

Five seconds of frozen time.

She jumped back, making distance even as a new power came to mind.

R̘ͮe͎ͦc̲ͮȃ̤l͙̔l̮ͨi͚̅n̗͑g͔ͥ ͍ͤP̘ͤa̳̐r͈̍ȧ̗d̠ͯḭ̌g̻̽m̹ͪ ̗ͧI̠͂n̏ͅf͓͌l͉͑ạ͋t̗̀i̜̒o͇͆n̯̚:̱̒ ̣ͭS̰ͧp͙ͧo͚ͦn̪̅t̞ͦa̞̚n͎̎e̩͗õ̞u͔̔s̳̋ ̺̃g̭͌e̩͑n̖̾ĕ͍r̭ͧȧ̙t̜ͯi̲̅o̭ͭn̮ͣ ̤̒ȏͅf̤͐ ̜ͬf̺̅e̙̔r͔͐ṟ͂o̮̍u̞ͫs̪͆ ͎̾s̯̔p̣ͤi̬ͨǩ͙e̺͒s̭͛ ̫̃ḻͮí̘m̪̏i̱̓t̙̐ë͔d͇͌ ̠ͥt̤ͮo̪̒ ͓͊a̳͂ ̩̍o̗͋n̮͂ẹ̇ ̦̊m͖̓e̯̾t̘̾r̩̽e̞͒ ̫͐s̰͂q̲̉ṳͧa̩ͮr̩̋e̲ͭd͇͛ ̞̽á͙r̦̓e̘̿a͖ͫ

Another power from a Gray Boy victim, a rain of iron spikes, sacrificing number for mass and speed the further it was pushed.

She once heard about a theoretical weapon, 'kinetic bombardment' or 'rods from god'.

The power was strict enough, but with the application of additional energy, by altering the composition at the basic level upon its creation... the power was only limited to ferrous material because it was common enough. The spike she created she made into a great pillar of metal, altering its structure, recalling lessons on chemistry and her own research. Tungsten, a spear of solid tungsten that she hung in the air in readiness, and she imposed one-hundred times gravity on it, even if it would only have a moment to affect it.

Coincide the fall with the timestop effect ceasing on Leviathan--

Within a millisecond of the time stop ceasing, the spear fell, smashing into the Endbringer like a falling star and sending a quake through the ground as the crystallised floor of what had once been a road imploded inwards with the force of the blow. Crystalline dust filled the air, billowing outwards and momentarily filling her vision. A moment to let it settle, to see what damage had been done--

A fist came out of nowhere and launched her into a nearby building.

She bounced off it, and not with any dignity at all, only kept in the air by the the levitation, and her eyes snapped to the form of Leviathan standing, having emerged from the crater left behind by the tungsten spear. A great dent had been sunk into the side of its upper body where the spear had impacted, but most importantly--

Leviathan had made contact with the valley's crystal, she could see it beginning to spread rapidly--

In a swift movement, Leviathan cleaved the crystal from its body, excising it, if it had not then the crystal could have claimed a significant portion of it very quickly, if she could hold Leviathan against the ground, if she could force it in contact with the crystal for long enough than she could fully convert it, defeat it that way. That would have to count, right?

2.46 minutes

In the moment that she had been bouncing off the wall and in which Leviathan had cleaved the crystal from itself it had charged, she only had a second to prepare for the blow before its fist shattered the wall behind her with the force that it forced her through it, sending them both through into the darkness of an abandoned carpark.

R̠̊e̮̎ĉ̦a͈ͥl̫̆l̖͛i͓̓n̲̈́g͇̒ ͙̈́P̗̏ă̱r͚̎a̻ͧd̠̈i̫ͧg̝̀m̟͐ ͚́I̘̿ṇͥf̹̋l̟̂a̪̍t͚ͣi͍̔ọ̎ṅ̲:̟̀ ̼̇E̗ͯč̙h̉ͅo̗ͭĺ̲o̼͐c̼ͭa̬ͪt̖̎i̼̅o̳ͩn̪͑ ̞ͭc̑ͅo̺ͣm̰̿b̻̄i̬̅n̰ͯe͔ͧd̯̔ ̺͆w͖͆i̥ͬt͕̅h̰ͭ ̺͛c͍̉h̥͛i͇̅r̬̀o̤̓p̺̆t̝ͨe̥ͯr͉͋a̻͆n̙͊ ̳̑b̩ͤi̦̔ọ̇l̗̅o̱̍g̣͑y̼̍

Screw the bat biology part, she just needed the echolocation!

The air was filled with impacts and the clicks between the two of them as Taylor switched over to the new sense. It was like seeing in a dozen pictures a second, a world in sequential snapshots.

Without its tsunamis and only limited access to its hydrokinesis that it had to fight every second to retain, the Endbringer was a very different foe to what she had faced on the rooftop just half an hour ago.

In the near total darkness their battle continued, she did not have a plan right now, the slugging match between them, her ether drinker enabled fists and Leviathans own bulk and water echo going head-to-head, her own refusal to be shattered into pieces versus the Endbringer's toughness and mass. The Endbringer had to have a brain or something somewhere, right? It had been a question since the first day that they had first appeared, what part of an Endbringer did you need to destroy to put it down?

Think Taylor think--

There was barely a moment to do so as she defended herself and lashed out right back at the Endbringer.

But she needed a strategy, needed a power combination with what she had. The gravity accelerated Tungsten spear combined with Clockblocker's time stop had been the most successful so far, but all it had really done was leave a wound, and not crippling one either. Her Ether Drinker was draining it and providing her with further strength over time but the moment of her blows was only a moment at a time, another to take a small bite of a gigantic pie, her attempts to use her gravity control to crush it into a pulp had not worked, she could only push it so far after all, but was that a hard limit or just her own weariness of being crushed into dust?

Moving this way and that, ripping more and more of the Endbringer's energy away even as she drew more from her nuclear heart to keep up with the amount of damage she was having to repair. She was being broken and cracked as quickly as she was putting herself back together.

The car park echoed with the sounds of their fight, dust was flying everywhere, even if she could not see it, she could could feel it against her skin. For a creature as tall as Leviathan, it was surprisingly capable of fighting in a confined space, dropping into to quadrupedal and lashing out with claw and tail.

Using Clockblocker's power to lock Leviathan in place to buy herself time to think, to calculate dozens of potential combinations and ways to employ her arsenal, only to reject 99% of them. Based on what she had observed of Leviathans toughness and speed, most of them would not work, and freezing Leviathan was doing little.

She had to do this, she had to beat Leviathan! She had to, she had to be faster she had to think of a way to win--

Would trapping it until the Spider arrived count as her victory?

Or a loss?

A lack of confirmation on the Spider's end was not encouraging, actually, its silence as it observed her efforts was disconcerting in general. She knew for sure that it was watching her every move, every effort and interaction. Judging her? Using the information she was gathering as a way to further hone its own efforts if she could not save herself and defeat the creature. She was running so that the spider could metaphorically walk.

She reached out and grappled around the Endbringer's neck, getting as firm a grip as she could to maximise contact between them so that the moment the time stop ended, she could leech as much of its energy as physically possible.

Leviathan burst back into movement, a flood of energy filled her--

The tail stabbed, shattering her torso.

She pulled herself back together just in time for the beast to grab her, to attempt to crush her--

Ṟͨe̲̓c̥ͭa̖ͪl͈̾ĺ̘i̗̊n͉̑g̯ͪ ̠̒P̳̓a̗͒r̺ͪa̖͒d̥ͬi̥ͮg̱̎ṁ̜ ̦͒I̙̚n͖̿f̎ͅḻͦȃ̟t͚̚i̼̎o̳ͮn̯ͮ:̗̑ ̭̌t͙ͥr̩͛a̰ͩn̙̄ś͚m̬͆u̝͋t̖͗e̗ͭd͕ͭ ͈ͭb̲ͭï͕o̬̊l̮͂ǒ̱g̜̈y̬͊ ̘̑i̺͐n̙ͫt̺ͬo͉̚ ̫̂l͓ͩi̪͋q͓͐u̩ͧì̱d͈ͬ ̰̑m͖ͬe̯ͤr̝͋c̙̎u͉̐r̺̎y̱͐.̯́ ̯̊F̻́l̺͊ė̱x̖ͩi̹ͮb͚̎l͚̒e͉ͦ ̬̾a͈ͯr̮ͫm̹̌ȃ̗m͕͛e̠̐n̤ͭt͖ͩ ̯ͮc̙ͭa͖ͮp̟ͫa̤̽c̬ͩi̩͊ẗ̼́y̬ͬ

Her suddenly liquid metal body slid between its claws and arms, even as she directed a tendril of her hair to stab for one of Leviathans eyes, piercing it, lashing and pulling apart the optical organ.

Leviathan's next strike scattered her newly liquid body, and for a few moments her consciousness was scrambled as she pulled herself back together.

1.32 minutes

A crashing noise, Leviathan had made a break for it.

Her web could only extend so far--

Leviathan broke through the wall of the parking lot.

She gave chase, taking to the air eyes wide open despite the wind and debris on her face, it was not like her vision was limited by her biology anymore.

The Endbringer was racing down the streets, towards the sea, and yet even as it ran it was using its tail, stabbing it rapidly to launch spears of water in her direction. They would not kill her, they might be able to break her, but Leviathan was not trying to do that anymore, it was trying to delay her, trying to force her back.

She calculated their trajectories, she angled her body by inches at a time as she flew along, Starring Invade would remove Leviathan's control over them but it would not stop them from flying forwards, better to avoid then meet head on.

This chase was taking precious time.

R̼ͧͣė̘̀č͓ͧa̘̐ͫl͎͂l̻̟̐i̤̎͌n͍ͭg̟͓̈ͨ ̲̞ͬP̪͗ͯa̖͗r̞̰̓a̼͚̅d̦̻ͮ̋i̟̒ͮg̣̜̽m͇̑ ͙̲̒̑I͔͍̔͗n̩͗͛f̟ͥl̜͎͐a͍̼͒ͩỉ͓̼ț̓ố̺̬n͓̍:̲ͭ̚ ͙͋̍Ṃ̠̑a͎̓n̹̊̽i̹̪̋ͭp͚ͣ̀ů̬l̗̬ͨͤa̺̼͒̈́t̖͈ͨi̖̠̍̔o͇̗ͩn̬̔ ̯͛͆o̝̽̚f̝͈̓ ͍̹ͮs̠ͤp̹͛̊à̭t̟̘̅i͎̔̅a̗ͭͩl̜̞̒ ̪ͦr͔̰͆e̝̔ḽ̀ã͉͔t̪͈̉ͧi̬͈ͫo̳̿n͈ͦ̽s͈ͯ̑h͓ͬḯ̘̍p̻̯̉͆s͉̖͌.̮͂ ̖̼͑I̤̩̎n͎̣̉c̯̘̏a̘̱ͮp̼͗a͓͚͋b̯͓̚l͓̚e̗͊ ͈̮̚ö̙́f̩̓͆ ͚͋ͭa̟̰͗̾f̮͐f͎͎̌e̜̦̿͛c͙̒t̹̐ͪͅi͖̯͂̈ń͉͆g̘͛ ̲͆͋o͉̠͗r̤̰͋g̱̰̓ͧa̳̙͗͗n̯͛i̳ͦ̚c̞ͦ̐ ͕ͬm̲̼̉a̜͚ͯt̤̲̄̓t̩̖̾e̮̗̊͑ř̝͎̂

Vista's power, she had never directly analysed it herself but the Spider had through her. There was so many ways it could be used that she had been neglecting--

Something was flying close to her, not one of the native lifeforms of the Oort-Cloud, a mech? One of Dragon's, she could not recognise which variant or design, her eyes were glued on the form of Leviathan but the momentary distraction. What did Dragon want!?

"Ordinant--"

"Get out of my way!"

She didn't have time for Dragon, she didn't have even a second to waste on anything that was not Leviathan.

"You need--"

This was not a time for her to be taking orders from Humans, what could Dragon possibly know about her current situation!?

Taylor had to do this, she had to do something, anything! She had to find the magic bullet that could destroy Leviathan, she had to she had to!

She increased the gravity in the vicinity of Dragon's mech, dropping it to the ground like a stone as she flew past it. Whatever Dragon, whatever anyone had to say to her could wait until after she had fought for every inch of her humanity, after she had struggled with every atom of her being to avoid the fate that the Spider wanted for her, even that brief interlude was time wasted. Why did people insist on wasting her time with unnecessary things!

Such a human thing to do, to waste their precious time.

Leviathan was ahead, it wasn't trying to sprint for the ocean, trying to get away. Having caused so much ruin and damage and now it fled like a coward, fled like the Endbringers had every time before, oh no no no no you are not getting away you worthless piece of data prey monster.

Leviathan was fast indeed, but Taylor had Vista's power now.

A rolling conveyor belt of terrain, increasing the distance, forcing Leviathan to fight for every square inch it moved forward even as she shortened her own relative distance.

She prepared another tungsten spear, created a pocket of shortened distance, and launched it.

Leviathan wasn't getting away, after all it had done she would break it into pieces, she would drain the very life from it and devour it whole and force the Spider to acknowledge her, her humanity, the worth of her existence. Leviathan was in the way, it was meaningless beyond as prey to be ripped apart and devoured, it was an enemy of humanity.

The spear hit Leviathan in the back, but it did not fall, it slid in place, momentarily bowed by the impact, but it was enough--

She reached out with her threads, wrapping them around the Endbringers legs, tripping it, forcing it down onto its front against the crystal.

57 seconds.

She leapt onto Leviathan's back, tackling it without regard for how the impact almost made her crack in places, and she threw her Ether Drinker into overdrive, like a tick clinging to the ear of a host she drained the life form Leviathan. It had not worked much before in the car park, but she had been able to rip away a lot of its strength, right?

There had to be some limit to it!

She had to be draining away every little mote of energy, grinding Leviathan down until it would cease moving and would finally die. Then again, Leviathan had enough strength to summon multiple tsunamis, a vast quantity of energy would be required to do that even once let alone twice or more, and there was its other energetic expenditures, did Endbringer's just have some eternal well of strength from which to draw? Did they have some manner of core, like her now?

Leviathan was pushing itself off the ground.

She brought down the effect of gravity to less than one percent of its normal intensity, its attempt to stand launching them into the air with her still clinging on.

Leviathan's tail was stabbing and thrashing, trying to throw her off, it forced its way between them and despite her best attempt to hang on it sent her cartwheeling through the air. Even with this crystal body that went beyond human limits, she was still only so strong, but now they were both floating in the air, rising upwards.

The front of Leviathan was crystallising, it was uneven in distribution but it was happening, even now it was striking at its own body to shear off the crystal.

But...

The crystallisation was only so fast, and it was slowing the deeper down it went into its body. The material was too hard and dense, it was slowing down, perhaps if she had more time then she could fully convert the Endbringer, if she had tried this from the start then there might be some hope of the tactic succeeding. But she had not, why hadn't she!

But she couldn't let the Endbringer slow down her efforts!

Binding its limbs, holding it back, doing all she could by cocooning Leviathan with revolution web webbing, binding it to the best of her ability. Her web was probably not as strong as that of the Oort-Spider no doubt, but she had to hold it back, force it to crystallise. She had to think up some way to speed up the process, but her powers was not suited to that, they were such an eclectic mix--

28 seconds.

With the benefit of altitude, rising above the tops of buildings and into the air she could see the distant glow, the advancing form of the Spider.

Her tungsten spears, her gravity manipulations, even her Ether Drinker would not be successful in destroying Leviathan in the remaining time she had. She ran the calculations in a moment, even holding Leviathan against the crystal, rolling it over and over to maximise the surface area, it would still take minutes to fully crystalise the Endbringer...

All her methods and efforts were hopeless and stood no chance of success.

She could not succeed.

23 seconds.

The spider was half a mile away from the city, ploughing through opposition. Small buildings in the way were not just stepped over but stepped through with how little concern it gave, its mere movement razing all it encountered and leaving only destruction and crystal behind. She could see it, though, the monstrous, multilimbed figure that held her life in its non-existent hands.

This high in the air, she had uninterrupted sight, no tall buildings in the way.

Leviathan was fighting earnestly in the grip of the the Revolution Web to be freed, to the point that the threads were actively cutting into its flesh and the crystal out of desperation. Nanoseconds passed in which her eyes stared past the Endbringer and towards the Spider with a sudden, serene clarity.

She had tried to beat Leviathan, but she could not, not in this time, even with the crystallisation spreading.

No... there was only one way. She had to cross that distance, she had to bring Leviathan to the Spider even if it would bring her near to that monster, even if on some level it would be to admit her own failure. But there was no choice, it was already moving through the suburbs, every second, every footstep brought it closer and she had spent too long trying to defeat the Endbringer herself, how much damage had the Spider already done to the outside of the city and everything between the Valley and Brockton Bay?

If nothing else, even if she failed, the city came first.

Her gravity control only had a radius of fifty metres, but that was all she needed as Vista's power leapt to the rescue.

She shortened the distance, that mile between herself and the spider became less within a small tunnel of the air as she created a new gravity well, one focused on the Spider itself, pushing it beyond the limits she had allowed before. One hundred two hundred, five hundred, one thousand-times the normal force of gravity.

With wrenching movement both she and Leviathan were pulled through the air, through the tunnel of shortened distance, falling sideways towards the Oort-Spider.

19 seconds.

Leviathan, with a free arm rained blows down on her in a frenzy of animalistic violence, and she returned it, out of sheer spite even as she lashed out with more webs, securing the Endbringer. She would not let it escape, not a chance not at all oh no, if she was going to do this and throw the two of them at the Oort-Spider then fuck Leviathan.

Hah, no last-minute escapes this time you aquatic fuck! No more hollowing out the underside of cities and islands, no hydrokinesis!

Her eyes struggled to keep up with the blur of the passing terrain but she felt the ambient radiation spike the closer and closer they grew to the Spider,

The gravity well ceased suddenly and something gripped her.

A moment later the tangle of limbs, revolution web and crystalised flesh that was Leviathan and Taylor was pulled apart with ease.

The featureless face of the Oort-Spider loomed between them. The glowing blue energy that spilled forth from its head and between the great saucer shaped disk and the spider... mantis like body was bright enough that if she had organic eyes she would be in pain, if she had a flesh and blood heart, it would have stopped just seeing it up this close.

Dozens of the luminescent blue tendrils gripped her, moving her out of the way and holding her as the Spider turned its attention towards Leviathan. She was all at once unimportant, out of sight and out of mind.

It was a single movement.

There was not a moment of waste, there was no excessive force behind it.

She barely even saw or comprehended exactly what it did, only that it cleaved through the super-dense flesh with such a ridiculous ease.

And from there it lifted the two pieces, the tendrils moved, pulling apart, assimilating, crystallising the two halves of the Endbringer that had ruined millions of lives, that had flooded entire islands and killed so many people. Taylor watched from above, unable to look away, unable to blink, her eyes taking in the new information, both on her own behalf an on the volition of the Spider. New information streamed into her head, the make up, the composition.

A core?

A decision centre, an energy source--

With the resilience of the Endbringer, her small arsenal of powers never stood a chance to destroying it, she could see that now.

Leviathan ceased to move as it set in place like some manner of monstrous art display, and within a moment it was dropped, its purpose done. The crystallised body of Leviathan broke upon hitting the ground, like a piece of delicate cut glass dropped carelessly by a child upon a stone floor. It was almost casual, if the Spider was human then it would be an almost insulting degree of effortlessness, one that spat on the efforts of mankind over the decades and her own battle.

11 seconds

The Spider counted the time it took to kill Leviathan against her.

D͎͆̐ͥr͎̘͛o̼̣͆ň͎͊ͅe̮̎̔ ̺͓͍̋s̜͈̤͐ͫ̈u̿ͤͮͅc̩̝̩̎̍̋c̥̄͋e̻͋s̻̣̜̔̎s̟̦̜̍ ̘̬ͦͩa̖͂͆c̫̗̏̂h̞͑̓͂i͈͙ͮ̎ͮe͕̘̖ͧ̽̿v̲̲̽ḙ͓ͯ͋ͣd̩̹͗́ ̪͗͒̓w͈ͦi͎̯ͯͪ̑ẗ͉͍̟ͮh̞̱̯͑͗͊ ͎̝ͯ̇m͇͈ͬ̃i̱̲̻͆̌ͦn̰̈ͯi̘̪̻ͫͬm̞̳̻̎̇ä̖͇̯ḷ̟͕ͩ̓ ̤̣ͪ̈r̫͔̫ͧ̽e̜̙̞͒m͎̆͊͋ǎ͕̝̬i͇̞ͩn͔͓̣̾͌͒ḭ̯̞̊̔n͙͆ḡ̤͊͆ ̰̹̹̎͒ͭṱ͎͚͌̂ḭ͖͙ͣ̿͛m̭̤̈ͥe͉̎͑

It was almost petty.

It did not matter, she had done it. Even with seconds to spare. Emma's sacrifice had not been in vain.

She stared back at the blank, featureless approximation of a face.

Even if her emotions were insignificant to it, she put every bit of her spite and vitriol for the destruction it had caused, for how it had ruined her life into the response. Even if it could not properly understand, could only appreciate it in definition or theory she still wanted it to know. The Spider might go back on the agreement, and if so... this would be the last interaction where her free will mattered.

I̱̊ṋ͐s̺͆i̜͗g̖̎n̰̔i͙͛f͉͛i̠ͦc̳͋ận͈ͤt̪̓.̬̏ ̭͊D͔ͯr͔̓o̞̚n̜ͣe̹ͤ ̝̓s̗̋u͓ͨc̦͒e̫ͯḙ͌d̤̋e̤̚d͉͊ ͓͋a̞ͫc̩̅c̼ͬo̬͐r̙ͬd̺̔i͙͑n͚ͬg̦ͫ ̻̉t̗͐ó͎ ̯̽p̜ͤa͙͆r̬ͦā̹m̮̍e̫̅ṭͧeͯͅr̪̄s͍͂

Its alien logic, its efforts to hold her back form achieving something by restraining her core had not held up against her achievement.

After a long moment, the various tendrils began to unwind from around her, leaving her floating in the air. The Spider turned and began taking a step back in the direction of the Crystal Valley.

C̞͐o͎ͨ̂̉ͫ̀n̥͉̤͗̊ͯt̟ͭ̎̚i̭̎ṉ̝̇̀̾̔ű͓̻̦͉͌̓e̬̫̳̺ͧ̊̂ ̣̫̼̻̋ͤ̏̐͗d͓̼̰͛̒a̻̳͆ͮ̋ͬt͎͓̭ͫa̲͓̿̚ ̹̤̣̗̱̽̊̌ͪ́č̼͎̪̪̙ő̫̖̏̋̈́l͖̳͔͉̝ͣ̿̃l̮̖̖̳̞̓ͩ͛e͇͕̭̖̫͋͌͊ͭͬc͉̗̖ͬ̔̚t̯̤̭̂̆ͅͅị͚̩̭̦̂ȏ͕͔̔n̫̦̻̮̟͒

For minute Taylor watched at the Spider began its journey back, floating in the air staring at the monster. She had done it... she had done it for everyone and she had saved the city, right? She was alive, she was still her, so why did she feel so...

She lowered herself closer to the ground until she was just a few metres above the crystal, just ten paces from the broken pieces of the being that had once been the fear of cities around the world.

Hugging her knees, Taylor stared unblinkingly at the crystal and the torn canvas of the sky and the teaming stars beyond, numb to the world even when the first members of the Protectorate found her.

5.7

Gabriel Coleson had been working for the PRT for eight years.

He was born and bred in the city, a fourth generation Brocktonite and In that time he had seen his fair share of things ranging from the bemusing to the bullshit. He had started as a humble trooper and made the lateral move into a desk focused job, spent hours at a desk reviewing and signing paperwork regarding some of the most dangerous Parahumans on the East Coast. He had gotten to know next to every non-Parahuman member of the Brockton Bay PRT in some capacity.

In one hand, he had a tablet for taking notes, in the other, a square bag into which something had been stuffed.

"You have worked with her extensively Coleson, so you probably stand the best chance of getting answers out of her--"

"If you could establish further rapport with her--"

"Miss Militia was unsuccessful at getting anything out of her."

All the cold and clinical approaches one would expect of a suddenly escalated situation, the very human need to understand and categorise something new and unknown. Coleson had looked over more than enough threat ratings and speculative plans of action to recognise what was going on, the PRT was desperately trying to establish some manner of framework to deal with the new normal.

"--Can you ask her if she is okay?"

That last one had been asked by Vista, who had ambushed him on the way here.

The remnants of the Brockton Bay PRT was a disorganised mess, temporarily it had been merged with the emergency efforts and teams brought in to handle the situation at the Bay, which had escalated far beyond what anybody could have imagined. He had imagined that the worst-case scenario for the battle two days ago would be the sinking of his home into the ocean, suffering a similar fate to a number of other soft targets chosen by Leviathan over the years.

Somehow, the actual situation was just as bad.

A city that was relatively intact in terms of its structure, but overtaken by an ecosystem so utterly hostile to life that the chances of survival within it for those that had been caught up in it were actively lower than had the Endbringer sunk the city.

The only positive was that since the Endbringer had disappeared, the boundary of the crystallisation had receded by three metres.

The building currently being used as the headquarters for the PRT was on the outskirts of the city, a large office building constructed by a somewhat ambitious property developer who had not seen the way the economic wind was blowing some ten years ago. It would do as a temporary location, even if it lacked a lot of the security and features that would be preferable. But a selection of Tinkers were working to make it secure.

The two troopers stood to attention as he approached and flashed his ID.

"How is she?"

"No trouble, sir. She mostly just... floats," said the first trooper after a moment. "She asked for a selection of marbles earlier, we had to run it past the higher ups."

"Marbles?"

"Yessir, one larger one and eight smaller ones."

"And passing it higher up?"

"They were worried she might use it to try and escape, sir."

Coleson reached up and ran a hand down his face, fingers running over the scar from that day in Boston.

Even if he had regained his sight, he had chosen to keep the scar as a lesson.

Resisting the urge to release an irritable sigh, he focused on the trooper's statement. She had been in the room for forty-eight hours now and that line of thought continued to be one at meetings, the notion that she might try to escape when she had made no effort at all to do so. How, exactly, could the PRT stop her from leaving if she wanted to short of bringing in the big guns? The girl's control over gravity alone could implode the room and allow her to leave, she had been forthcoming about the extent of her new abilities and frankly it was ludicrous to assume that they could contain her.

She is only here because she wanted to be.

"... Thank you for passing her request up, did she get them?"

"Yessir, gave them to her myself a few hours ago."

He nodded.

A brief salute later, and the door was opened, allowing him to step through into the mostly empty, square room beyond, setting down the bag beside the door for later.

Ordinant was floating in the air at the centre of the room, curled up in the fetal position in the air with eyes closed, as if asleep. Except sleeping people did not wear expressions like that.

She looked different.

Of course she did, he had briefly scanned the file that had been pushed into his hand on the way, but it was different to see in person. The rather plain hospital gown-like garment she had been given did little to disguise the fact that her entire body was now that smooth, opalescent crystal that before had been her arms and legs. The lights of the room were dim, but that was made up for by the brightness emanating from within her chest, even with cloth and fabric in the way and her relative inactivity; it was almost painful to look in her direction for its shine.

There could be no doubt, were it not for the fact that he had known the girl for months at this point that he might have immediately assumed that she was a Case-53.

Floating a few feet above her were the marbles that had been mentioned, a large yellow one sat in the centre a few inches above her palm, with other smaller spheres floating around it at uneven speeds. A clear simulation of the solar system. There were other objects floating about the room, a cup, a plate, all of them gently turning over, cartwheeling until they hit a wall, bumped off and continued their flight.

"Hello, Ordinant," he greeted, walking closer.

Her head turned, eyes opening a little to reveal globes of crystal flecked with multiple colours yet lacking a pupil that stared unblinkingly back. When she did blink, it almost had a slow, languid quality, as if it was out of some manner of obligation, or remembering that it was something she needed to do.

The lack of blinking and breathing was just the wrong side of uncanny.

"... Coleson..." the crystallised girl said. Her voice sounded much the same as before, if perhaps there was a strange ringing quality that persisted just a moment too long. The way she said it made it sound like it took effort, like when one spoke to a person suffering severe depression, that lagging moment between hearing words and giving some manner of response.

"... I'm glad you are okay."

"It was a little close I must admit, but yes, the PRT building was evacuated before the crystal could reach us."

Her eyes turned downwards. The utterly blank expression transformed into a look of guilt, regret, and anger, one that did not fade quickly.

"... I won't ask if you are alright, Ordinant." She gave one of those long, slow blinks at him. For a moment she was silent, and then, as if with some great effort she visibly deflated, her altitude dropping an inch or two.

"It's my fault..."

"The city?"

"... Yeah... if I had never been here, perhaps all of this would never have happened."

What do you say to that? For a moment he let the statement settle. It was already more of a response than Miss Militia or the other agents had gotten out of the girl.

"What happened out there, Ordinant?" he asked, simply, quietly.

"... The spider decided it wanted to consume Leviathan, so it prepared the battlefield... through me. Through my power," each statement had a pause between them, as if she was deciding between each whether she would say it, whether she could trust him enough to tell him. "And then it began... transforming me. The human body is weak. It is not optimised, I don't know what I was going to become but E... Ems..."

Her face contorted, like she wanted to burst into tears, except that there were no tears to come.

What was the name of the redhead that Ordinant had brought with her for the last few loop breaking operations? Her name had been Emma. Another victim of the Oort-Spider Crystallisation, except that the work of Prosthetists had been successful in her case.

"She died to stop it."

"I am so sorry, Ordinant."

He was. He really was.

He had lost enough friends and colleagues over the years.

Coleson gave Ordinant a few minutes to recover, she had curled up more in her fetal position in the air, hugging her legs close and burying her face into her knees. There was so much to unpack there, information that would be parsed over by dozens of thinkers and PRT experts, and none of it was good.

Ordinant had already been attending mandated therapy sessions after the Boston farce, no wonder she was in the state she was... frankly, he was surprised she had said as much to him as she had.

"Would you like for me to leave, Ordinant?" he asked.

"... No." It was mumbled, but carried through the air clearly enough. "If I talk to you now, they might stop sending people to ask me questions, at least you have always been honest with me."

It was a naive hope. There was a list of questions already prepared for Ordinant that, written on paper, could probably extend from one side of the building to another. The main problem was getting her to talk.

"Okay then, but please tell me when you have had enough, alright?"

She nodded.

"Alright, do you mind me asking about you now? You've refused any food or comforts since Alexandria brought you in, two days ago, are you okay?"

"I don't need it, my body is powered by a miniature star in my chest and I draw further sustenance from solar winds, even if they are very weak here compared to the valley... Human needs don't affect me anymore."

He nodded, making a note.

"And the Spider? Do you have any insights into it, seeing how it seems you understand it?"

"..." Ordinant stared back, and then, she uncurled from her fetal position in the air, slowly pushing herself into a hunched, cross-legged position. "You cannot understand it, Coleson... the Spider, that is... it... it sees through me." A simple statement, but one that made his own heart pause a moment, the stomach to drop through his chest. The look on the girl's face was one that would stay with him forever.

The wide eyed, thousand-yard stare that seemed so utterly haunted.

"I am not a Parahuman, Coleson... everything I call a power--" the nine marbles descended from above, floating above a palm that was held facing upwards. "--is just something borrowed from the spider, I am just the terminal by which it interacts with the wider world, I borrow its own abilities... some of them at least... It sees, Coleson. Everything I see and hear, the environment, everything I learn... it sees. It sees you right now, it's seen you before, I..."

She stopped, hanging there in the air, lost.

"... All of it is just... on loan to me until I stop getting results, that's what happened, I was going to become... something else, but it got interrupted."

... Where did he even begin with all that? He should look away, just meeting the girl's gaze was sending floods of adrenaline through his body. The Spider was seeing what she saw, it was seeing him? To stare into the eyes of something that had killed an Endbringer by proxy of someone that he had worked with before. There were so many questions going through his head right now. Was Ordinant even trustworthy in the first place? What did the Oort-Spider want?

He grabbed onto the first thing that came to mind in that explanation.

"Results?"

"Information, experience. It cannot understand humanity on a fundamental level. You're... we are like ants, it's not something that humanity can defeat. The only reason I am still here is because I managed to bring Leviathan to it, it can copy and learn powers for itself, that's why I have the powers of other people we met... I can still be useful, I can provide more information, information on powers," she descended into mumbling, as if she was not talking to him, but directing her words at something else.

If what she was saying was true... then he could guess what she directed them at.

"And then it let you go?"

Ordinant stared.

For a few seconds her eyes unfocused, looking at some point beyond him in the distance, they glittered with the slightest movement, and yet as he looked, perhaps it was what she had just told him, but did he sense something else behind them?

The marbles dropped a few inches suddenly, as if Ordinant had forgotten to maintain their anti-gravity state, they scattered for a moment and then she looked back to them and they stopped in mid-air. Mechanically, she began putting them back into the right orbit and speed, tearing her eyes away from him.

"It will never let me go."

...

Fucking hell.

"I'm, done with the questions, Coleson..." she sounded exhausted, wearied, her eyes closing again and mouth momentarily parting as if to sigh.

"Of course."

According to protocol he should push. Instead, he put away the tablet. But then again, that was the protocol for dealing with Parahumans, and by her own words Ordinant was not a Parahuman, so he could disregard protocol without concern. If his bosses or the visiting PRT and Protectorate members gave him shit about it, then he would simply point out the need to conserve the mental health of somebody who got into a fist fight with an Endbringer and came out on top.

Coleson was under no illusions that Ordinant was trapped here.

The rundown of abilities she had demonstrated that he had read through beforehand made that quite clear.

Still.

"Gimme a sec, Ordinant," he said, stepping to the door and grabbing the package he had set down earlier. "It was mentioned that you hadn't been sleeping?"

"I don't need to sleep, I just rest my eyes," she said simply.

"Just because you do not need to doesn't mean you might not want to." A flash of an expression from the girl, slightly pained.

He opened up the package to reveal a somewhat plain, standard issue blanket, which he bundled up and carefully pushed her way, mindful of whatever anti-gravity field she was maintaining.

A hand reached out and caught the blanket, Ordinant opened her eyes again and looked down at it for a few moments, fingers pressing into and squishing the soft material. Then, she brought it up, hugging the bundle to her chest and resting her chin on top of it.

"... Thank you."

"Least I can do," it was. Frankly, he had been pissed off to hear that Ordinant had not been given so much as a blanket. Just because a person says they do not need something does not mean that they may not want it... "Anything else I can try to organise?" he asked further.

"Is my dad okay?"

"Yes." He gave the affirmative at once. "He... is in a bit of trouble actually... when he was told he could not see you he had to be restrained until he calmed down."

The sound that escaped Ordinant was somewhere between a bitter laugh and a choked sob, she lowered her face a little into the blanket. As if to hide her expression at that moment.

"How long until I can see him?"

Ah, the million-dollar question.

If there was one thing he had noticed about Ordinant in their time breaking Gray Boy loops, it was that the girl appreciated a certain level of blunt honesty. Whether it was about the things that she had seen during the course of that duty, or in conversation about the state of Brockton Bay whilst they were away, the girl was a realist. For a while, he had rationalised it as due to the girl's experiences, no point dealing with liars when you have limited time to live, after all.

The correct response right now was 'once the PRT is confident that there are no risks to you or anybody else', a justification that had been used before to keep dangerous Parahumans in place long enough for the PRT to devise a correct response to a delicate situation.

He did not bother to sugar-coat it.

"I don't know. There are a lot of things going on right now, and nobody knows quite how to respond to what has happened with Brockton Bay. But personally, I hope that you can leave soon, there's no point keeping you here too long."

"... Can you send a message or two for me?"

Depends... because information is valuable, and it would have to be screened.

"I can try." It seemed that she understood the deeper aspects of that statement, as she nodded. After a few moments to bring up a notepad on the tablet, he looked up to the floating girl in anticipation.

"The first is for my dad, the other is for Emma's parents, um, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes."

5.8

Interlude: Armsmaster

His bike thrummed under him as he drove along the edge of the Crystal Valley.

The cordon and barricades surrounding the maximum extent edge of the alien ecosystem was a fragile barrier that separated the outskirts of the city from the nightmarish horror that had overtaken the Brockton Bay that he had lived in and served for his life.

Armsmaster looked to the left.

Each building was filled with displaced people, the streets occupied with camps of emergency relief tents in which entire families squeezed themselves. Trucks filled with food and supplies occupied open spaces, dispensing the basics for human survival, an army presence had been rapidly deployed to maintain public order and the city was in a state of martial law.

The city currently had suffered an eighty-nine percent reduction in its habitable structures and space, the crystal was receding but slowly, based on the model rapidly built by Dragon based on both Brockton Bay and other data it would take over a year for the crystal to recede from the city, and that was assuming a steady and continuous rate of decline.

The PRT and local government now had three hundred and fifty thousand or so people to house in just ten percent of the area they had formerly occupied. Electricity and clean water was scarce even with the efforts of PRT Tinkers and the army being brought in. And that was without the gang element as well, the city villains would be leaping upon this opportunity, based on his research these sorts of conditions were ripe to see major expansion as factionalism and resource shortages affected the population.

His hands were now full with dealing with the fallout of all of this, and he had preciously little time to Tinker, the golden opportunity posed by Leviathan had been stolen from him.

He had barely had a chance to test out the Nano-thorn against Leviathan, the opportunity to have all other Capes pull back so that he could test it alongside his predictive combat system was scuppered by the news that the Oort-Spider was moving, and the ease with which the Spider had dealt with Leviathan was almost insulting. It had not even made use of any of the demonstrated abilities from the Protectorate's disastrous first response when it first landed.

Armsmaster looked to the right.

A hellscape of glittering crystal filled with hostile life crowned with a rippling aurora and an expanse of stars beyond.

PRT troopers and Dragon Mechs were placed at regular intervals to maintain the fragile barrier, concrete blocks were being laid down to block the passage of anyone stupid enough to try and get too close. The area above Brockton Bay was a no-fly zone, several news helicopters had, in those first few hours, flown over and attempted to get footage before Dragon and the army had forced them to turn back... and the exposure to atmospheric radiation had not done any of those reporters much good.

This was no time for fooling around.

This wasn't some news opportunity; this was a literal hellscape.

It had to be seen to be understood, you had to stand only a few metres away and feel your own, rational brain struggle to make sense of what you were seeing. You needed to cast a stone into the valley, and watch strange growths like quartz begin to spread over it, or watch some strange creature emerge from a hole to investigate the new object in its territory.

He slowed his bike, bringing it to a stop.

The PRT troopers were stood with their backs to the valley, just metres away from making contact with the fatal crystal. Just a few feet sepparated them from the cordon and the Valley.

Seeing them stand so close to the crystal, a memory came unbidden to mind.

The desperate plea of the surgeon.

'Cut it off cut it off cut it off!'

The man who had been in the middle of attempting to remove Ordinant's arm a second time after it grew back.

He could see the man in his mind's eye, holding his own arm outstretched, eyes filled with a primal terror as the crystal visibly raced up the limb. Everyone had been calling Collin paranoid for carrying a spare halberd around the base, but they had fewer complaints after he saved the man's life through the quick and somewhat brutal amputation he had performed.

It was one thing to know that you worked with a person suffering a condition, but quite another to see the same condition infect and rapidly begin consuming another.

In retrospect, that incident should have highlighted the greater will behind the crystal.

Not just a malignant, creeping infection, but a sentience connected to something greater.

That interaction had given him a healthy respect for the dangers of the material, and when the first warnings from Dragon came from his armband announcing that crystal was spreading throughout the city, he had been one of the first to begin organising the evacuation, taking command, and organising a number of Shakers, including Vista, to facilitate the evacuation.

And now the city was full of people like that... thousands of people either infected with the crystal, or completely converted. He had seen several Parahumans who had come to fight Leviathan mutate and crystallise before his eyes, too slow or unable to escape the Valley's advance.

He shook his head.

And then there was the problem of Ordinant, the Ward who was unwillingly behind this entire situation. Every time he returned to base the topic of what to do with her was omnipresent. Even now, standing beside the safety cordon inspecting its security, there was an update through his comms about the girl.

Barely any change, she had been given a blanket by Agent Coleson and had not emerged from it for thirty-six hours, but had received a visit from Clockblocker and Vista and had shown a very marginal improvement in her mood during it.

He did not have answers.

And that was infuriating.

He had not spoken with her himself, there were others who had worked more closely and knew her better.

That was not say that he had not interacted with her pleasantly in the past. When he was adding improvements and customising the arm that Prostheticist had made she had sat beside him for a portion of his work. Quiet, curious of his work but not interrupting or distracting him.

A lot of their other interacts had been like that, short and quiet, but he could handle that.

He had taken her out one evening for a ride on the back of his bike, it had taken a bit of convincing but the girl had been dying... even if mercifully that had not happened.

And he was hardly going to turn down a colleague who just wanted that experience.

And there was the incident after Bakuda's capture, where she had refused to surrender the credit. It had irritated him at the time, the capture of such a notable domestic terrorist would have been a win for any member of the Protectorate...

But he could also understand the girl's thinking.

He was well aware of that desire for recognition... it was something he had been striving for, something that his career demanded. No, not his career... he was already head of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, it was something that he had imposed upom himself.

But the girl had not thought that she had that time.

How was it that his father would have put it? The flame that dies quickly burns brightest?

A Tinker had to always move forward, had to work upon their creations. He did not have the luxury of a power that he could understand within a few days of using it, his career had been marked by sweat and toil, hard lessons that had forced him to adapt and prepare for any circumstance and when he hit a wall, he had adapted elsewhere.

The Nano-Thorn was a revolution that, following its test against Leviathan, could have propelled him to even greater acclaim.

And now Ordinant and the Spider had completely up-ended all that effort and progress, the revolution of his creation would fall by the way side because he had not been able to demonstrate it, because the Oort-Spider had cleaved through Leviathan like the old addage about a hot knife and butter.

... His plans for the Leviathan battle had admittedly, been extreme.

The footage of Ordinant trapping the beast and forcing it to engage her had also revealed just how it fought when truly cornered, parsing through the footage had revealed a number of flaws in his predictive software, any of which could have been his end had he gone up against the Endbringer as planned.

A knot of tension in his chest tightened.

He had been denied the opportunity, and yet based on what he had now observed even if he had, he would mostly have been killed or maimed in the process.

It was a strange combination of bitterness and sudden clarity that had dawned on him in the wake of the attack. Ordinant's efforts had revealed so much to the world, both about Endbringers and the Oort-Spider itself.

He had mostly only parsed through the information provided after the brief patches of explanation and conversation she was willing to maintain before she became unresponsive to further attempts.

The proceeds of which were painting a far grimmer picture than anyone could have imagined...

Within just a minute of dismounting his bike, the vultures were circling.

"Armsmaster, is it true that the unknown Parahuman who fought Leviathan is actually a member of the PRT?"

"Armsmaster, do you have any comments on the PRT's current approach to the Brockton Bay situation?"

The national and internal press was all over the outskirts of Brockton Bay, haranguing anybody and everybody who could provide a story.

He had years worth of PR experience now, even if he mostly preferred to avoid such attention unless it was following a success on his part. But footage had gotten out of portions of Ordinant's fight against Leviathan, the scene of her going toe to toe in a fist fight with Leviathan without backing down had circulated around the world despite attempts to suppress it, as had the Endbringer's final fate at the hands of the Oort-Spider.

The footage was grainy due to the conditions within the valley, but the figure of Ordinant was unmistakable, grasped in the tendrils of the Spider but not crushed, instead moved aside and then released.

Of course, the latter part made sense now.

But every day, every second the questions were mounting and people increasingly demanded answers. Plenty had already guessed or interpolated a roughly correct course of events; it was a public relations disaster that could barely be spun at all let alone guided in a particular direction.

"I have no comments," he declared, pushing past the journalists. The benefit of being as tall and imposing as he was with the benefit of his armour that people tended to get out of the way.

Blunt, forward.

People kept asking the questions though, they did not take the first comment as an answer as he tried to do his work of maintaining law and order.

Brockton Bay was done for, the slow decay that he had observed for years had less been accelerated than brought to a heart stopping precipice of no return. Now it simply stood to try and control the situation and find new homes for all those involved. Even if the Crystal Valley could be removed or would recede with time, how could people reclaim their lives here?

~~~~~

Interlude: The Office of the President

The Oval Office had seen its share of stormy arguments in its time, and today was no exception.

President J.G. Johnson stood, hands behind his back as he observed the ongoing conversation, which had by this point devolved to the point that it was almost farcical. The various assistants and special assistants to the President were not exactly a harmonious group at the best of times, despite the best of intentions all of them had different approaches, the dozens of cogs and gears in the machine of the presidency were not always interlinked.

"We have several thousand barely secured security risks at Brockton Bay, any one of them could act as a vector for the expansion of the crystal, take a look at the goddamn report on the sub-sites and that is perfectly clear!"

"You want to make a ghetto for these people!"

"Don't put words into my mouth I didn't use the word ghetto--"

"Use whatever term you want, what you are proposing is an unconscionable violation of the fundamental rights of any citizen of the United States!"

The other speaker in the conversation took a moment to take a sip from a glass of water, allowing the statement to hang a moment and perhaps for tempers to cool.

"... With all due respect, sir, based on what we know, any one of them could act as a vector for the expansion of the crystal, if you look at the fourth report on the sub-sites then its quite clear. We are not looking at people suffering some unpleasant skin condition, we are talking about an invasive alien ecosystem."

In that case, why wasn't most of the East Coast crystal by now? Because according to the other reports, victims of this crystal had been living and dying in the course of their civilian lives for some time. Fortunately, rather than ask himself, the Parahuman scientist spoke up.

"We have reason to believe that only infected Capes can act as vectors for further expansion of the Valley--"

"And that is a risk we cannot take! In the course of twenty minutes an entire city was overrun!"

That was quite enough. At this point he glanced at his personal assistant, Mrs. Stanton, and gave the faintest of signals. At once the woman took charge of the situation, clearing her throat. The two members of staff who had been in the throes of argument stopped at once, turning to focus on him instead of one another.

"The source for the crystal was the Cape who fought Leviathan, correct?"

"... Yes, the Ward formerly called 'Ordinant.' By her own words the Spider 'deployed' the crystal through her."

"Is she secure?"

Dutifully and with the trained unobtrusive grace of long-time personal assistants across the planet, Stanton removed a file from his desk, one of many, and stood waiting to present it to him.

The more senior of the pair of speakers replied.

"She is secure Mr. President, in a fashion... her condition and powers make her near uncontainable, but she is voluntarily in PRT custody."

Voluntarily indicated intelligence and a willingness to cooperate... or a greater plan behind this.

"I think that we have discussed the matter enough, Gentleman. I want concrete numbers on the Brockton Bay situation before any federal level choices about the population is made."

After a moment the group began filing out, leaving just the various members of his security service behind and Mrs. Stanton, stood as still as statues.

"Do we have a report on 'Ordinant'?"

Dutifully, a folder, one of two dozen on his desk, was passed his way.

"Thank you, Nancy," he took the file. She wordlessly stepped back to allow him to read. "When is my meeting with Costa-Brown?"

"Eleven thirty, sir."

Plenty of time.

"Tell her I want to discuss the proposed responses to Ordinant."

"It was not on the itinerary, sir."

"Then she can put it on the itinerary, I bet by now they've already made half a dozen ideas to bicker over." She nodded, and stepped away to place the call.

With that, he began to read.

With the amount of paperwork and information coming out of recent, there was no way for one man to parse through it all, even with a dozen aides and informants, just this morning he had skim read four reports on the state of Brockton Bay, glanced at a state address he was to make in the afternoon and received thirteen separate reports on various other matters.

But some things had to be read and understood in their totality, such as about a Cape who could fight and kill an Endbringer, and apparently had some manner of link to another.

The first page of the file had a pair of images, the first a somewhat nervous looking girl, black, curly hair, and dark, sad eyes... she looked a little like his younger daughter actually, except that Evie was much more cheerful than this 'Ordinant' girl. The second image was of the same figure, only now she was made of crystal. Clearly, they had been unable to get her to pose, as she was curled up hugging her knees and barely even looked cognisant of the photo being taken.

She had been a Ward for several months, with an impressive service record in that time as well and noted for her dedication to helping victims of Gray Boy.

In just a short time she had made a truly admirable impact on the number of victims of that monster.

He mostly skimmed those parts, paying notice to the 'first recorded instance of contact with power' that were highlighted, and then moved on. The details of the Leviathan fight were known to him; he had been receiving rolling updates of the situation as it progressed at the time.

An Endbringer attack was a major event for any country on Earth, one that required both a local and national response. It was easy to imagine that the ripples and after effects of an attack could be dealt with by the PRT, but in truth the Federal level actions taken in response were far more significant.

The PRT could handle the Parahuman element, but in the end, it was the government and its actions that would decide the fate of a city after an attack.

The emergence of the crystal had been a horrific curveball, the reports of the alien lifeforms in the valley fighting Leviathan had been tentative good news, and then the emergence of a crystalline figure who fought the beast toe to toe was both a source of tentative elation and some horror. At the time, there had been speculation that said figure was some new response, a new form of life in the valley that would require an appropriate retaliation.

And of course... the movement of the Spider, the USA's own personal Endbringer.

The news that Leviathan was dead, and that the crystalline figure had been identified as a (somewhat) known quantity had been met with a silence that would haunt the oval office for years to come. Nobody had wanted to breathe at the news of the City Killer's death.

The fact that the Spider had returned to its Quarantine Site-09 (and by the same exit in the wall, nonetheless) had been a cause for joy.

Joy that soured as further reports came in.

The threat assessment of Ordinant had been revised multiple times and had far more double digits than he would have liked.

The description of her mental state was just as bad, as were the descriptions of her known powers and abilities.

But it was the interviews that really clinched it.

The Spider was intelligent, it knew what she knew and more than that it wanted more. The origins of the Endbringers were unknown, but according to the girl, who had a constant link with it, the Spider was straight up an extraterrestrial creature whose entire disposition felt more appropriate for a being in one of the Lovecraft stories he had read as a teenager than a real creature. The former speculations on it originating from the Oort-Cloud, source of its name, had been tentatively confirmed.

According to reports prior to Leviathan's attack Ordinant was an intelligent enough girl, suffering severe depression but possessing a strong dedication to being a hero to the point of a martyr complex. She was slowly forming friendships and desperate to 'do her bit' before her inevitable death, and the parahuman psychologist who had been handling her had been confident that she was improving, even if it was tentative.

The current psychiatric reports were far bleaker. Apparently, the death of a close friend to prevent her 'metamorphosis' (and wasn't that a terrifying word?) alongside guilt for what had happened had left her in her current state.

And that was without considering the stream of information she was supposedly receiving from the Oort-Spider.

It painted a clear picture of a person that was an inherent risk to keep around. The status of the Oort-Spider and its intentions were unknown, the degree of control that it exerted over the girl was another.

She professed to have her own free will rather than being a 'combat-optimised drone,' which she had claimed to have gained through some manner of bargain with the creature.

That indicated that the Oort-Spider could be reasoned with.

But only via Ordinant.

The risk was high, something that Costa-Brown had stressed in her own notes and report at the bottom of the page.

But at the same time.

The girl was an incredible asset.

A near unkillable Parahuman who only grew more potent with exposure to other powers, one who could fight an Endbringer and who, at the cost of a city, could neutralise a threat that was compromising the balance of global power one city and nation at a time. He did not need to be an expert on Parahumans to recognise the value of such an individual, for years the Triumvirate had been a major bargaining chip in the nations favour, a form of hard leverage to hold over others to ensure favourable discussions.

Very few nations wanted to hear that three of the most powerful Parahumans on the planet would not be turning up to their aid for political reasons.

Let alone a Parahuman with a tangible link to the Oort-Spider, who could possibly facilitate contact between the United States and the creature.

Could the girl's martyr complex be turned to the good of humanity? Could she be fed a stream of Parahuman powers to maximise her value and help ensure the future position of the USA on the world stage? Could she be used to successfully negotiate with the Spider to assist in dealing with the other Endbringers?

So many 'what if' situations, and the correct answer could well propel Ordinant into an asset both for the United States, and humanity at large.

...

That's part of the problem with being the President.

You make hard choices, and so far in his six years he had made a lot of decisions that affected hundreds of millions of lives.

Johnson had children, two daughters, he had been thinking just a minute ago about how Ordinant looked just like his younger daughter. But the girl was not his Evie, and he had a tough choice to make when it came to her life.

He set down the report and sat, deep in thought for a minute.

A knock at the door.

"The Chief Director, Mr. President."

"Let her in."

The chief director entered, the expected handshakes were exchanged, the briefest of greetings. With how much there was to discuss, only the base pleasantries were necessary.

She had a number of folders with her, and as they sat down for the meeting she laid them down on the table.

"The proposed responses to Ordinant, Mr. President. With your signature, they will be put into action."

"Good. I wanted to start with this."

"There's three proposed responses Mr. President, although these are only the preliminary documents, these documents represent courses of proposed action rather than specifics. The first is to find some means to destroy Ordinant."

Starting the topic strong, then.

"The potential security risk she poses is high and the crystallisation of Brockton Bay places the total damages she has caused into the billions, without mentioning the deaths of civilians… and that is without considering her seeming connection to the Oort-Spider. There is the complication that she has a miniature star in her chest, and an improper method may unleash it. But Watchdog Thinkers are confident that she can be destroyed."

There was a moment's hesitation there. He may not have noticed it, were it not for the fact that he had spent his entire life talking to people.

"But?" he prompted.

"There is some concern that the Oort-Spider might react poorly to the attempted destruction of its 'terminal,' according to the timeline the Spider only took action against Brockton Bay after Ordinant was incapacitated during the fight with Leviathan."

"They think it might rampage?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Any indications on likelihood?"

"No, Mr. President."

Damn.

He had gotten used to having some manner of figure beside a lot of decisions.

Johnson nodded, and indicated for Costa-Brown to continue.

"The second response, Mr. President, is to find some means by which to contain her in a secure location; it will be difficult, but based on her currently observed behaviour Watchdog believes that she could be isolated and kept compliant with the correct approach. Already we have scoped out a location in the Midwest where a facility could be built with appropriate staff and enrichment opportunities provided to keep Ordinant contained and in an appropriate attitude for further questioning about the Spider, with periodic release for future Endbringer attacks."

Enrichment opportunities?

He refrained from raising a brow.

"Currently the upper levels of the PRT and myself are advocating for this approach."

What a sour taste that one left in his mouth.

But right now, he had to make the best choice... and if that choice was to consign an apparent teenaged girl to a quarantine facility, then he may well have to put his name to it. However, there was a question that came to mind.

"... And what makes the PRT think that the Spider will not respond to this in the same way as the first option?"

"Pardon?"

"Locking her away. It might be able to keep the girl out of the public eye, but ultimately the greatest threat from this situation is not the girl, but the Spider. Watchdog suspected that it might rampage if she is killed, but has any effort been made to question the girl about how it might respond, or precognitive forecasts made?"

The pause was just a fraction too long.

"Costa-Brown?"

"... The girl herself is immune to precognitive Thinker powers, so the modelling system has had to accommodate for such, and she is rarely willing or able to be coaxed into speaking for longer than a few minutes, at current the question has not been posed."

"I want that answer," he said, leaving no room for doubt in that. "The report I was sent indicated that she is still very human, even if clearly undergoing some sort of mental health crisis, but I would much rather have a depressed human made of crystal and a passive Endbringer than a contained, depressed human and an uncontained Endbringer."

"Sir, with all due respect, Ordinant is no longer human, she is completely made of alien crystal now and we cannot even confirm if her mind is not simply an accurate simulation of a human mind. We cannot guarantee that she is a reliable source of information."

"Similar things could be said of a number of Case-53's. We have been dealing with individuals who are human in mindset but not in body for decades."

Behind Costa-brown, Johnson could see one of his secret service members shift in place. The Parahuman element of the service had a number of Case-53's behind the scenes, they were too blatant for the front face of his protective force.

"If the girl thinks she is human, acts like a human and wants to help humans, then she can be treated like one. I want that answer from her lips, and I want it on my desk as soon as possible."

"... Yes, Mr. President."

A definite cool note to her voice there.

He nodded.

"And the last option?"

Costa-Brown, taking the rather obvious hint, got back on track.

"The third response is to attempt to keep Ordinant integrated into her current position as a Ward of the Brockton Bay PRT or similar position. Based on her previous heroic inclinations and efforts it has been proposed that she could make a recovery from her current mental state and return to active duty far more efficiently than previously. With a high level of supervision and therapy, the PRT may be able to learn far more about the Oort-Spider and put her talents to a greater use... albeit with a large number of restrictions. However, due to the future potential of similar crystallisation events, it is currently the least popular option."

Costa-Brown took a moment to take a sip of water.

"A number of Ordinant's colleagues and her therapist believe that she can be reasoned with and vouch for her, whilst the Director of the Brockton Bay PRT is less positive. It would also depend on the nature of the Oort-Spider and its intentions."

He nodded.

Each of them was a risk, each of them contained something unpalatable. The choice between the objective best option that would scar his conscience forever versus his gut reaction to remove a threat to the nation he loved and served... and then the option that was perhaps the highest risk for the highest reward.

The rest of the meeting covered other matters relating to Brockton Bay, and was over in the blink of an eye. There was so much to cover, and so much going on with the city that currently dominated the world's news, that even after the meeting he felt as if there was a lot left to discuss.

Questions of what to do with the population that had contracted the crystallisation disease.

The matter of whether the city was truly lost or could be recovered.

Whether the Oort-Spider could even be contained at all when it simply obliterated the security all without stopping.

It was the next morning that his requests of the previous day were fulfilled.

As he took a seat in his office, all the work from the previous day had been replaced with more piles of paper and a dozen people wanted to speak with him on various topics outside of his scheduled meetings.

The new file from the PRT was the third that he read that morning, and consisted of several documents.

Firstly, an empath within the Brockton Bay Wards by the name of Gallant who had known Ordinant for a few months had confirmed that whilst her emotions were different in intensity from before, they were similar to her human state.

But more importantly, there was a transcript of the conversation that occurred between one PRT Agent Coleson and Ordinant.

A number of key parts had been highlighted, on the topic of containment:

"... I don't know... it wants me to continue gathering data for it, and if I don't it will finish my metamorphosis. I... haven't collected much for it lately, I just... can't, but I need to get back to it, it's still having me process and review the stuff from Leviathan..."

A question of what this metamorphosis would entail:

"I would become what it wants me to be... a fully combat optimised body without any free will at all, I guess it would just... make me go around collecting that information and destroying anything that resists I suppose..."

And then:

"Is that what they want to do with me?"

Apparently, after that the girl experienced a 'notable loss of control over her gravity manipulation, something previously observed with high stress' and, despite the man's attempts to console her, she had utterly closed up and refused to communicate with anybody since.

None of that was good at all.

The entire matter was being muddied by her responses, the choice was not clean cut whatsoever, but very few things were.

Johnson, having reviewed the three options, sat with pen in hand.

Destruction, containment, and rehabilitation.

He placed his signature on one of the documents, and could only hope that his decision was the best one for the United States.