Prologue


Danny Hebert


"Well studying ahead isn't a bad idea."

The union man picked up one of the books and turned it over, curious to see what was so engaging that it had his daughter passed out on the dinner table using a stack of notebooks as a pillow.

Corpus Juris Civilis.

What?

His thoughts turned over and he was half frozen in confusion before, ultimately, pushing on to get his morning coffee.

Obviously, he considered if his child was studying for some kind of project or test?

But that shouldn't be possible.

Even with the extra time off from the extended Christmas break, it would still be a week or so until they finished cleaning up and fixing the school. Last he checked, half of Winslow was still flooded and most of the piping had to be fixed or outright replaced.

"Hell, I got my people work up there and I know those contracts don't expire for another two months."

Cup in hand, he tugged a packet of assignments out from under a stray book and confirmed that, no, Taylor didn't have school for another ten days!

He picked up another book and another and then one more… just to be sure.

'An Analysis on the Code of Hammurabi.'

'Justice Systems of the Ancient World.'

'Manusmriti.'

Books on law and the justice system, books on the history of law, books about famous cases and even biographies of famous figures associated with them. Everything, from top to bottom, felt like it had come out of a library's legal section.

For someone who had never even breathed a word about it, Danny felt it was out of character for his daughter. Something she had never even brought up once. And he did listen… mostly.

Now, Daniel Hebert was aware, rather painfully, that he wasn't a good father.

He tried to be.

But God's own truth was that he had failed.

He just… wasn't good.

Not because he didn't want to be, God knew that if you could turn good at something just because you wanted it, half the world's problems wouldn't be as bad as they were, and the other half would turn out even worse. A person was good at the things they put the work in to be good at.

And he liked to think he was good at his job.

'I better be, with all the years I've given the Union.'

And therein lay the issue he was facing now. Because as good of a parent as he wanted to be, the truth was that he only knew what not to do. And no matter how much time passed, he could never be sure whether what he was doing was the right thing or not.

Even worse, he had genuinely screwed up.

In a way he doubted he could ever fully make up for.

'Annette would have known what was going on.'

That thought came unbidden, a treacherous little voice jabbing him in the back of the heart.

"But would she?"

Hand on Taylor's head, he gently stroked his daughter's hair, smiling as she snored.

"No." He murmured. "I don't think she would."

Danny could admit to himself that even she would be confused at the scene the union man had found when he got up for breakfast. Their daughter, passed out in the middle of pouring over dozens of books on their dining table. And when he said dozens, it was no exaggeration, he almost couldn't see her face from behind the small mountains of paper!

Back when he and Annette would make playful bets on whether Taylor would go on to become a teacher, or choose to attend business school, both understood that whatever she picked would be fine even if they still hoped she might pick something they could help her with.

'But a lawyer?'

That had always been Alan's thing. While Danny knew enough about the business side to avoid getting into trouble, he'd never had the patience or even the focus to actually learn the fineprint of the law, and, well, maybe he had one too many bad encounters with slimy opportunists to ever get the bad taste out of his mouth when it came to the courtroom.

The Law had a way of favoring those who had the time to waste sitting around instead of working. Especially when one side had to worry about putting food on the table and the other didn't.

But that was just his humble opinion.

'Still… has something happened?' Walking around the sleeping teenager, Danny walked back to the kitchen, unwilling to disturb her with questions she probably wouldn't answer.

A father's job was to worry, however.

Was she in trouble with someone? Did one of her friends need help?

He hadn't heard much about Winslow other than the usual. Teenage drama, cliques, and the unfortunate presence of wannabe gang members throwing their weight around because they thought they could. It had been just as bad back when he was younger.

Now it was just different names and colors.

The Teeth and Gentry might have been gone, but that didn't keep the new faces from making the same mistakes again and again and again.

But this wasn't an old mistake.

His child had been hospitalized.

He, Daniel Hebert, had failed.

The thoughts in his head whispered treacherously once more.

Annette was the one who always seemed to know, always seemed to understand what the right things to say were. The one who was most sure of herself even when they inevitably butted heads over one thing or another. It was only now, not very long after losing it, losing her, that Danny understood how unsure he was.

Most of all about his daughter.

The person he loved most in the world.

The one who'd gotten hurt, hospitalized, and then… withdrew. Unwilling to say a word about what happened, why it happened, or who might have done it. And because he'd been so absent and unsure, Danny didn't even feel he could ask her these questions.

'Would she even answer? Would she lie?'

Could he even tell if she was lying, or why?

His wife would have known.


Taylor Hebert


Eat.

Study.

Practice.

Repeat.

Not necessarily in that order, and often with as much sleep as she could fit in between each cycle, sometimes between one and the other. She wasn't particularly picky nowadays. With as much time as she had on her hands and a complete lack of social life aside from engaging in random conversations online, Taylor liked to think she was taking things rather well.

It wasn't everyday you wrecked your own school.

And, really, it couldn't have happened to a better place if someone asked her.

'At least someone might bother cleaning up the toilets.' Disgust, anger, and frustration welled up in her - but Taylor smothered the feelings. They were useless and paled in comparison to far, far more pressing matters. 'Though it has already been a month.'

With almost no word on whether they would be going back to Winslow or not, it was hard for the teenager not to get her hopes up.

'Dad is worried.'

About school of all things, but she appreciated it. At least he still cared about her future.

Though she wasn't sure how to explain to him about her new career path.

'It's bound to come up eventually.'

She shook her head, grumbling at the errant thought, instead focusing on getting dressed up for her morning run. Dad just left and it was early enough that not many people would be out and about. Meaning there was a smaller chance of running into one of her fellow students that way.

They were teenagers.

Waking up late when they could was half their personality.

'And it's not like there's a whole lot to do over here other than sitting around. Talk about disappointing.' She agreed with the assessment, overlooking the Boardwalk, there really wasn't much of anything to do in it unless you had the money to spare or more of it than sense.

"Besides, I was never a window shopper."

Some people were walking around, getting behind their kiosks and ready for work.

Other stalls were abandoned, as it was still too early for most of the pricey restaurants to open. At most there were a handful of early arrivals, plus the few guards that did their best to look competent.

All in all, it was the cleanest and most well maintained part of the city… and she would rather have stayed home.

Still, Taylor had a routine to keep and the boardwalk was the safest place to do it. She doubted anyone would be making a scene here so she was free to take a couple laps and enjoy having the place to herself before the rest of the shops opened and she was told to scram if she wasn't buying anything.

Half an hour and a bottle of overpriced water later, she managed to find a small corner to park her ass and take a breather, eyes scanning the front of a newspaper that was left in front of a shop.

"It's been weeks and they are still talking about this?"

Maybe it was a slow month if the papers were choosing to focus on her school of all things.

The Winslow Flooding

A curious case where, according to authorities, an issue of water pressure caused the majority of the piping in Winslow High to burst, leading to massive water damage to the property. While no students appear to have been hurt, it will be a long time until the school is ready to resume activity.

Many have accused the Winslow administration of lacking the foresight to prevent this catastrophe, while others believe that the school's lack of funding and support by the Mayor and his staff have led to a swift breakdown.

When approached, staff expressed their relief that no one had gotten hurt as well as mourning the uncertainty of the institution's future.

'Winslow was Brockton Bay's largest public school. Without being able to open our doors to the public I fear that many won't be able to receive a proper education."

'Parents are concerned, and many have already mentioned they will be looking to enroll elsewhere if repairs take too long. There might not even be a school year left by the time the building is fixed.'

Taylor should have felt bad.

Intellectually, she knew she should.

It was just really hard to give a damn about the place when it had been absolute hell on earth for the past year. And of course, the fact that the article had conveniently avoided mentioning the fact that she had to be pulled out of a puddle on the floor and rushed to an ambulance.

They couldn't afford to look 'too' incompetent after all.

Just overworked but well meaning professionals.

'But it's all fine since nobody got hurt.' She repeated the words mockingly. Yes, it wasn't a big deal that she'd been stuffed in a locker and then lost consciousness. No problem at all that she could have drowned there if somehow she hadn't managed to get out.

Not that she would have drowned.

She wasn't sure she even could anymore.

There were more than a few questions involved with any powers - hers weren't just any powers. And making things even more complicated, hers came with a guide book. A speaking, opinionated guide book more interested in saying "no" than in letting Taylor do what needed to be done.

'Heck, you don't even agree on what needs to be done. Or if it's even our job to be the one to do it.'

A deeply frustrating disagreement. One unlikely to be resolved any time soon. After all, Taylor had the power, the will, and the capacity to make changes for the better.

At the very least she could start a violent and sudden bout of emergency surgery, mostly centered on the malignant tumors slowly eating her home alive.

Immense lumps of cancerous flesh, burrowed deep into the body of Massachusetts, roots splitting muscle and skin, nerves aflame and firing blindly, a populace hoping to drown out the pain of a rotting world with booze and drugs and worse. Even whores and rank consumption were mild vices, small things compared to what some turned to. What Taylor knew were tacitly accepted as the cost of surviving.

And she could fix it before school started back… if her powers would work with her….

A soft titter echoed in the air.

Like windchimes, it was there for a moment only to disappear the next, as if it hadn't been there to begin with.

Taunting her.

'Dad is coming home late today.'

Taylor… knew she shouldn't feel relief at the thought of not seeing her dad until bedtime, but the idea of having the time to go out and do things was way too tempting, especially when there wasn't anyone looking.

In the end, her day went pretty well, even if it was a bit boring.

She finished her laps, went back home, and heated the leftovers from the previous night. While she ate, there was time for a little bit more reading and admittedly surfing the web to check the latest PHO news.

Just on whether any new capes had been sighted in town before showering and getting changed. There were, after all, things that you could only get away with at night.

And nobody wanted to bother a weird kid in a jacket walking the docks.

It didn't really qualify as 'stealth' but Taylor felt like she should be… discrete.

So a cloth facemask, a winter coat, and clothes that were baggy enough, and ratty enough, to hide the fact she was a girl. Someone who probably shouldn't be this out late by herself, but also not a cape trying out their powers, and definitely not some dumb kid in way over her head.

The little things really did count when it came to mindset.

"I guess it's still winter." Though the cold didn't bother her, it meant no one was really interested in bothering the hydrokinetic. "But is there really nobody out tonight?"

Seemingly dead, the streets lacked even the normal crowd of people looking for trouble or trying to avoid it - even the hobos were safely tucked away in cardboard shelters and back alleys. Anything to hide from the cutting wind and the seeming tension that was building and building. Almost as if something was happening and Taylor was just missing all the signs.

Not a comforting feeling.

'Still, came all the way here… might as well get it out of the way.'

Walking towards the shore, Taylor felt the ebb and flow of the waves lapping at her heel, step by step growing closer to the depths as the foam and water erased the footprints in the sand and she slowly walked out of view and into the darkness with nary a soul to witness.

'Water this cold probably could kill someone.'

Especially in the dead of winter.

Not her.

Though she felt the cold of the wind, and it was just a feeling, one utterly without bite, the water itself felt lukewarm to the touch… or rather, she willed the water around her to warm up as she swam off into the distance.

Completely clothed.

Because her outfit just… didn't get wet.

She didn't want it to, the water decided not to drag her clothes down, just like it decided to let her breathe.

In fact, what she was doing was more like gliding than swimming.

Swimming implied that it took effort, that there was resistance, that there was the push and pull of currents and waves and the pressure of water around her. And there simply wasn't. Brockton Bay's frigid waters, churning dark glass that they were, broke and ran over rusting hulks and old garbage, all while carrying away any filth, any cold, any detriment away from the silly human inside of it.

A multitude of impulses welled up Taylor.

Thoughts of weaponizing those abilities ran unbidden, insisting that they be acknowledged and granted pride of place. It was a childish sort of feeling. As if invincibility bequeathed an uncountable number of conquests. That all she need do is reach out and pluck them, as if grapes from a vine, and devour the most delectable.

That impulse - and the thoughts that accompanied it - were forced down. Somewhat alien, the teenager understood that pure impulsiveness would see her dead. Or worse.

Taylor did not need a particularly great imagination to understand that fact.

So, instead, fantasies of punishing Sophia, or literally cleaning the streets, of wiping away crime, were relegated to a few giggles and pleasant daydreams.

Right now, she extended her will, pressing against all that was… wet. That told her the shape of things that were not as wet, though very little was truly water free, and gave the parahuman an image of the world below.

Unbidden, she allowed her awareness to spread through the waves above and the currents, through the depths and deepest of wells. Every drop in this sea was like a limb, responding to her thoughts.

One moment, her eyes were across the ocean in the Thames.

In another, she turned and her eyes saw Copacabana and its white sands.

Further and further, her eyes traveled.

From the shores of Australia to the Greek isles and the Nile. Through every creek and pond. Every puddle.

They were… hers.

Taylor breathed out, and the world rippled in turn.

"What an unfair power."

Control, absolute control over water. It sounded like a simple power, the kind of thing you'd expect from a small time cape who did tricks at a fountain or helped put out fires. However, there was fear in that simplicity because the world's most powerful water manipulator was one of its greatest threats.

Greatest until now.

It would be easy to find it.

She considered doing just that, but immediately sighed as her powers suddenly cut off and the cape's awareness rushed back to her surroundings.

Taylor clicked her tongue, annoyed.

Before her, an image phased into being through the depths, clear as crystal despite Taylor being at least a few hundred yards underwater. The small light that pulsed with her heartbeat formed into a body.

A young woman wearing an elaborate white dress, with unnaturally light hair and blue eyes shaped like water droplets, one lighter than the other, formed herself out of the ocean… and very much outside of the teenager's control.

"Good evening, Taylor. Out for a swim?"

Annoyance had to be strangled and the teenager ultimately sighed in annoyance.

"Did you really have to cut me off?"

The white haired woman tittered, giving her a knowing look.

"Now, now. Practicing is fine and all, but there should be limits to boldness. After all, just because you can do something, it doesn't mean you should. Going looking for monsters at this stage of the game is too soon, no?"

The teenager rolled her eyes.

Really, she'd never heard of powers that came equipped with a babysitter. But it really was just her luck that somehow, what might have been the most powerful ability in the world, was also the only one that refused to work.

"I wasn't going to do it."

The woman shook her head.

"You knew you wouldn't be able to. You were just testing me, looking for a way to make me appear, no?"

Taylor didn't have an answer to that.

Yes, she knew she wouldn't be able to go that far. Anything that bordered on the scale of Eidolon or Legend immediately got shut down and hunting Leviathan definitely qualified for that.

But it hadn't stopped her from trying anyway. Not when she might be able to use these awesome powers to handle one of the biggest problems in the world.

"Can you blame me? You hardly let me do anything."

"That's 'hardly' the case. You are here now, aren't you? Hundreds of meters underwater, comfortably drifting along freezing tides. I only saw fit to stay your hand when you decided to… cross the line."

Stay her hand? More like clip her wings.

What was the point of having powers this great if she couldn't do something with them? Even now, the most this… figment of her imagination let her do was clean up the ocean near her home and if she was lucky she would be able to do some practice on the ship wrecks!

"Well, congratulations. Here I am, one of the world's most powerful and most useless capes. I could do so, so much! If I could just reach out and do something."

The white haired woman shrugged.

"You are alive, are you not? That's hardly a bad trade. These powers did save you, and they've given you a reprieve from your torment, no?"

That… she couldn't deny.

Yes, her powers, and whoever this woman was, were the reason Taylor had escaped the locker. They were also the reason Winslow imploded on itself, giving her the much needed time away from her daily life, as well as the chance to figure out what to do next.

"Yes, and we can do more. So much more than this."

Give her a week.

No, give her five days and she would have Brockton looking like a completely different city. No gangs, no drugs. Heck, she could even clean up the boat graveyard and make a day out of it.

It would be so easy.

"And so the brave knight in shining armor rides out into the sunset after butchering the dragon. Most stories don't really focus on just how much damage such fights always cause. Maybe there won't be a city left by the end."

Taylor bit back a not very nice word, though she was sure the other woman could read her sour expression just fine.

"So I'm just supposed to leave the city to rot?" And even if it was a low blow, the sneer came instinctively. "Just like everyone else in this Hellhole?"

"Good intentions are laudable… but they are just kindling for the fire if you don't have a plan."

"And planning for a year and a day is great, if you're willing to pay the cost of waiting. Waiting for things to get worse, waiting for people to suffer and die, waiting for more villains to make things worse and waiting for more heroes to screw up - or worse. You won't even tell me your name but you tell me to wait. To sit around with my thumbs up my ass!"

While there was still something worth a damn in the city. While there was still a chance to keep people from getting pushed around, abused, and killed while nothing ever changed for the better.

Only the worse.

"Very well." The figure frowned. "Tell me, what would you do if you saw an attempted murder."

"Stop it?" Coming quickly, her answer was unsure. Taylor felt almost like the question was a trap. "Stop it." Firming her words, she repeated herself. "However I needed to - even if I didn't have powers."

"I do not doubt that. But, how would you stop it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you shoot the perpetrator, stab them, beat them, call for help, call the police? Would you interfere without training or preparation, knowing you could make things worse? Would you be willing to be killed if you failed? Hurt the victim if that is what it took to save them? Kill the man and orphan his children?" Rapid fire, each question came without time for an answer. "Of course, I could construct a hypothetical that boiled down to crass utilitarianism. Because that is, ultimately, the choice you must make, Taylor."

"I… what… its just… I can help people,"

"And that is laudable." A sad smile. "But power has costs, and both using or choosing not to use it have costs, too."

There was a long pause and, without an ounce of effort, the voice in Taylor's head took them to the bottom of the ocean, the two sitting on chairs of suddenly hard packed clay, smooth and without a hint of mud.

"I do not wish to be cruel. But the truth is, young lady, that the impetuousness of youth leads to disaster. Life is not a fairytale or a game. There are no take backs."

Swallowing her first response, Taylor, confused and a little disoriented, shut her mouth and forced herself to think. Both about what was said and what she'd say in response.

"You don't like utilitarian ethics, I won't try to argue that." A card on the table. "What I will say is that, right now, I don't need to kill Leviathan. I could just… stop a few crimes."

"But what if the crime is not an injustice?"

Brow furrowed, the teenager nodded.

"You're asking if I mean things like petty stuff, like graffiti, or tax evasion, or something like using a freezer that's old and isn't actually legal for use in a restaurant and stuff like violating zoning laws with a treehouse."

A shrug.

"Stealing to eat. Killing in revenge for murdering a loved one. Punishing the guilty who escaped the noose. Morality and legality are separate things, child." The words were kind, but condescending, and it seemed a little trite. Taylor kept her mouth shut for now. "And sometimes one must be cruel to save, to do things which are unimaginably evil in order to preserve a greater whole. How wicked is it to condemn one soul to agony to save uncountable millions?"

Despite being underwater, Taylor felt her throat go dry.

She… didn't have an answer to that.

Couldn't even think of where to start. Even now, part of her rebelled against the very thought of not being able to make a difference. Regardless of whether she was wrong or not, helping others should always be the right thing to do.

The thing nobody did when she needed it most.

"What should I do then? What can I do?"

The lady in white floated closer, resting a hand on her shoulder with a thin smile.

"First, you have to find the answer. Find the justice that belongs to you, and then ask yourself how far you are willing to uphold it. That is the price for wielding this power."

Having nothing else to say, the image burst like a bubble, disappearing as if she had never been there.

Taylor sighed.

Another day, another failure.

'The library is gonna be mad at me.' She'd taken all those books to try and study to debate her powers and in the end couldn't recall a single word. Still, it was about time she headed back and got started on dinner.

Unfortunately, twenty minutes or so later, when she had begun her final approach to the docks, Taylor Hebert noticed something rather docks were on fire. Smoke rising into the air as a furious roar echoed in the distance alongside a chorus of blaring sirens, gunshots and smaller explosions following suit.

It was a warzone.

But her most pressing concern wasn't the fire or the yelling.

No, it was by far the forty foot tall dragon looming over in the distance.

"Oh. Shit."