Chapter 1: Elastic Strength
This was almost the worst day of her life. The culmination of months of torment, the final, crushing blow that would break her spirit. Taylor Hebert had expected pain, humiliation, and maybe even a trip to the hospital. What she hadn't expected was the change.
It started as a dull ache, a throbbing in her bones that spread like wildfire through her body. Her skin felt too tight, her muscles twisting and contorting as if they were trying to escape her body. She screamed, but the sound was muffled by the filth surrounding her. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she thought she was dying.
Then, everything snapped into focus.
Her body didn't feel like her own anymore. It was as if she had been stretched thin, like taffy pulled in every direction. She could feel the walls of the locker pressing against her, but instead of crushing her, they seemed to bend around her. Her arms, her legs, her torso—they all moved in ways that should have been impossible. She twisted, contorted, and slipped free of the locker like water pouring from a cracked glass.
Taylor stumbled into the hallway, gasping for air. Her body felt… wrong. Her limbs were too long, her movements too fluid. She looked down at her hands and watched in horror as her fingers stretched and twisted like rubber. She tried to scream, but her voice came out as a strangled gasp.
"What… what's happening to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Taylor froze. She couldn't let anyone see her like this. She had to hide, to figure out what was going on. But her body wasn't cooperating. Her legs stretched out beneath her, carrying her forward in long, loping strides. She tried to stop, but her momentum carried her around the corner.
Her arms shot out, wrapping around a nearby locker and pulling her forward. She crashed into it with a loud clang, the metal denting under the force of her impact.
"What the hell?" a student muttered. But there was no one in the hallway; her heart leapt into her throat, but she was safe. It must have been someone who had heard it from inside their classroom. Because everyone was in class. Because they were supposed to be. If it had been Emma, Sophia, and the others, she would still be in there. They wouldn't have let her out until who knows when…
She had other things to think about.
Taylor's mind raced. She had to get out of here, had to figure out what was happening to her. But her body was out of control, stretching and twisting in ways that defied logic. She tried to focus, to will her limbs back to normal, but it was like trying to hold onto water. Her arms and legs flailed wildly, stretching out in all directions.
And then, suddenly, it stopped.
Taylor collapsed to the ground, her body snapping back to its normal shape. She lay there, gasping for air, her heart pounding in her chest.
Trigger Event.
Why was her life so messed up that she couldn't even be happy about having superpowers? She knew the theory.
All she really knew was that something had changed. Something fundamental. And as she slowly got to her feet, she realized that her life would never be the same.
The sun was setting by the time Taylor made it home. She had spent the rest of the day hiding in the school's basement, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her body felt normal now, but she could still feel the potential lurking beneath her skin. It was like a coiled spring, waiting to be released.
She slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it with a sigh. Her mind was racing, trying to process everything that had happened. She had powers. That much was clear. But what kind of powers? And how was she supposed to control them?
Taylor took a deep breath and held out her hand. She focused, trying to will her fingers to stretch. At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly, her fingers began to elongate, twisting and bending like rubber. She watched in awe as her hand stretched out, reaching across the room to grab a book off her desk.
"Okay," she whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Okay, I can work with this."
But as she retracted her hand, the smile faded. She had powers, yes. But what was she supposed to do with them? She wasn't a hero. She couldn't even stand up to a trio of teenagers; how was she supposed to do anything against real villains? She wasn't even sure she wanted to be one in the first place. All she knew was that her life had just gotten a lot more complicated.
And she was going to have to figure out how to navigate this new world.
The next morning, Taylor woke up with a plan. She had spent the night experimenting with her powers, testing their limits. She could stretch her body to incredible lengths, contort herself into impossible shapes, and even absorb impacts that would have broken her bones before. But she still didn't know how far she could push herself.
She needed to find out.
Taylor slipped out of the house before her dad woke up, making her way to the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town. It was the perfect place to practice, far away from prying eyes. She stepped inside, the dim light filtering through the broken windows casting long shadows across the floor.
"Alright," she muttered, cracking her knuckles. "Let's see what I can do."
She started small, stretching her arms out and wrapping them around a nearby support beam. She pulled, testing her strength. The beam groaned under the pressure, but it held. Taylor grinned and pushed herself further, stretching her legs out and wrapping them around another beam. She pulled, her body stretching taut as she lifted herself off the ground.
For a moment, she hung there, suspended between the beams. Then, with a grunt of effort, she pulled herself forward, her body snapping back to its normal shape as she landed on the ground. She rolled to her feet, her heart racing with excitement.
"Okay," she said, breathing heavily. "That was… that was something."
But she wasn't done yet. Taylor focused, willing her body to stretch further, to push the limits of what she thought was possible. Her arms shot out, wrapping around a nearby forklift. She pulled, her muscles straining as she lifted the heavy machine off the ground. It creaked and groaned, but it moved.
Taylor's grin widened. She could do this. She could be more than just a victim. She could be strong.
And as she set the forklift down, she realized something else.
She could be a hero.
But first, she had to figure out how to control her powers. Because if today had taught her anything, it was that she was still a long way from mastering them.
And in a world full of capes and villains, that could be dangerous.
Taylor sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, surrounded by sketches, fabric swatches, and a half-disassembled sewing machine she'd dug out of the basement. Her dad had bought it years ago for some long-forgotten project, and now it was her lifeline. She needed a suit—something that could withstand her powers, something that could make her look like a hero instead of a freak. Or worse, a fucking idiot.
Her powers were… weird. She could stretch her body like rubber, contort herself into impossible shapes, and absorb impacts that should have shattered her bones. But her clothes didn't share her newfound elasticity. The first time she'd tried to stretch her legs, she'd heard an ominous rip and immediately aborted the experiment.
So, here she was, trying to design a suit that could keep up with her.
The problem was, she didn't know where to start. She wasn't a fashion designer, and her sewing skills were rudimentary at best. But she had to try. She couldn't just go out there in a hoodie and sweatpants. She needed something that would make people take her seriously.
She flipped through her notebook, where she'd scribbled down ideas. The suit needed to be flexible, obviously, but also durable. It had to stretch with her without tearing, and it had to protect her from the elements—and from bullets, if it came to that. She didn't have the budget for Kevlar, but maybe she could layer the fabric to make it more resistant.
Her mind wandered as she sketched. What would a hero's suit look like? Something sleek and intimidating, like Armsmaster's armor? Or something more classic, like Legend's costume? She didn't want to copy anyone, but she needed inspiration.
Her eyes landed on a poster of the periodic table pinned to her wall. She'd always liked science, even if she wasn't great at it. The idea of molecules and atoms, of things stretching and bending at a microscopic level, resonated with her now. Maybe she could incorporate that into her design.
She started sketching again, this time with more purpose. The suit would be dark, maybe black or deep blue, with lighter accents that resembled molecular structures. The chest piece could have a pattern that looked like a stretched-out lattice, symbolizing her powers. The mask… she wasn't sure about the mask yet. Something that covered her face but didn't make her look like a villain.
As she worked, she thought about her powers. They weren't just about stretching. She could reshape herself, twist her body into new forms. Maybe her suit could reflect that. She added more details to the sketch, giving the suit a sleek, almost liquid appearance. It would look like it was in motion, even when she was standing still.
But how was she going to make it? She didn't have the materials or the skills to create something like that. She'd need help, but who could she ask? Her dad didn't know about her powers, and she wasn't ready to tell him. The only person she could think of was…
"No," she muttered, shaking her head. She wasn't going to ask Emma for help. Not after everything that had happened. She'd figure this out on her own.
To begin with, Emma would just mock her.
She wouldn't come crawling back, not even to be friends with a superhero. The fantasy was delicious, a non-violent revenge, a vindication. But it couldn't be more than that. Things wouldn't turn out the way she imagined.
They rarely did.
She spent the next few hours researching fabrics online. Spandex was a given, but she needed something stronger to layer over it. Maybe neoprene? It was used in wetsuits, so it was flexible and durable. And it was relatively cheap. She could order some online and pick up the rest at a fabric store.
By the time she finished her design, it was late. Her room was a mess of sketches and fabric samples, but she had a plan. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. And for the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of hope.
She was going to be a hero. And she was going to look the part.
The next morning, Taylor came downstairs to find her dad sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. He looked up when she walked in, his expression softening.
"Morning, kiddo," he said, setting the paper down. "Sleep okay?"
"Yeah," Taylor said, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. She poured herself some cereal and sat down across from him, avoiding his gaze.
Danny watched her for a moment, his brow furrowing. "You've been spending a lot of time in your room lately. Everything okay?"
Taylor stiffened. She'd been hoping to avoid this conversation. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just… school stuff."
"School stuff?" Danny repeated, his tone skeptical. "You're not still having trouble with those girls, are you?"
Taylor's grip tightened on her spoon. She didn't want to talk about Emma and Madison and Sophia. She didn't want to think about them. But she couldn't just brush her dad off. He'd worry even more if she did.
"It's nothing," she said, forcing a smile. "Just… you know, homework and stuff. I've been busy."
Danny didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "Alright. Just… if you need to talk, I'm here, okay?"
"I know," Taylor said, her voice barely above a whisper. She focused on her cereal, her appetite gone.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Taylor hated this. She hated lying to her dad, hated the distance that had grown between them since her mom died. But she couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet.
"So," Danny said, breaking the silence, "any plans for the weekend?"
Taylor shrugged. "Not really. Maybe just hang out at home."
"You should get out more," Danny said, his tone light but insistent. "You're always cooped up in your room. It's not healthy."
"I'm fine," Taylor said, her voice sharper than she intended. She winced and added, "I just… I like being alone sometimes, you know?"
Danny sighed. "I get it. But you can't shut yourself off from the world, Taylor. It's not good for you."
Taylor didn't respond. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him everything—about her powers, about the bullying, about her plans to be a hero. But the words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she finished her cereal in silence and excused herself to her room. She had a suit to make.
It took Taylor a week to finish her suit. It wasn't perfect—the seams were a little uneven, and the mask didn't fit quite right—but it was hers. She'd made it herself, and that counted for something.
Now, it was time to test it.
She waited until her dad was asleep before slipping out of the house. The streets were quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. She moved quickly, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. This was it. Her first night as a hero.
She didn't have a plan, exactly. She just wanted to see what she could do. Maybe stop a mugging or help someone in trouble. She wasn't ready to take on the big leagues, but she could handle small-time crime. Probably. She might be useless, a complete disaster, but if she started small, if she got used to it little by little, maybe she could do some good.
Maybe she'd feel like she could breathe again.
As she walked, she heard a commotion up ahead. She froze, her senses on high alert. The sound was coming from an alleyway, and it didn't sound good.
She crept closer, her body stretching and contorting to blend into the shadows. When she reached the mouth of the alley, she peeked around the corner.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
Two figures were standing in the alley, their faces obscured by masks. One was dressed in a green jumpsuit with a stylized "U" on the chest, while the other wore a black and white outfit with a helmet that looked like it belonged in a video game. Taylor recognized them immediately.
Uber and Leet.
They were standing over a third figure, who was lying on the ground, clutching his side. The man looked terrified, his eyes darting between the two villains.
"Come on, man," Uber said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're supposed to be the bad guy. Where's your fighting spirit?"
"Yeah," Leet added, holding up what looked like a modified NES controller. "We're just here to have some fun. Don't ruin it for us."
Taylor's stomach churned. She'd heard about Uber and Leet. They were small-time villains who livestreamed their crimes, treating the city like their personal playground. They weren't as dangerous as some of the other villains in Brockton Bay, but they were still dangerous.
And they were hurting someone.
It would be so easy to say: it's not my problem, let someone else stop them! The real heroes. But she was real enough. She had powers. She couldn't look the other way, telling herself it wasn't her problem. With great power comes great responsibility. It was a heavy burden, but wasn't it true? Wasn't it true that… she had to do something?
Yes.
Yeah, she had to do something.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor stepped into the alley. "Hey!" she shouted, her voice trembling slightly. "Leave him alone!"
Uber and Leet turned to look at her, their expressions hidden behind their masks. For a moment, no one moved. Then Uber laughed.
"Well, well," he said, crossing his arms. "What do we have here? A new hero?"
"Looks like it," Leet said, grinning. "And she's wearing… what is that? A homemade costume?"
Taylor's face burned, but she stood her ground. "I said leave him alone."
Uber shrugged. "Alright, kid. You want to play hero? Let's see what you've got."
He lunged at her, his movements fast and precise. Taylor barely had time to react. She stretched her arm out, wrapping it around Uber's wrist and yanking him off balance. He stumbled, caught off guard by her sudden move.
Leet laughed, holding up his controller. "Nice try, but let's see how you handle this!"
He pressed a button, and a glowing energy blade appeared in his hand. He swung it at Taylor, forcing her to duck and weave. Her body twisted and contorted, bending in ways that should have been impossible. She dodged his attacks, her movements fluid and unpredictable.
But she couldn't keep this up forever. She needed to end this.
Summoning all her strength, Taylor stretched her arms out, wrapping them around both Uber and Leet. She pulled them together, slamming them into each other with a loud thud. They collapsed in a heap, dazed and disoriented.
Taylor stood over them, breathing heavily. She'd done it. She'd stopped them.
And it had been so easy, too. She knew they were a pair of clowns, but she hadn't expected it to be that easy. She hadn't expected that.
Well, she'd been scared a few times, but in the end, it had been easy. She hadn't been hurt, they hadn't even touched her, and it had all ended so easily.
Clowns or not, Uber and Leet weren't in jail for a reason. They might not win any major fights, but they didn't lose them either, slipping away like rats from the law.
But not from her. Not from her.
She had stopped them. She might not have experience, but her powers were good. She'd never be an Eidolon or an Alexandria, but she'd hit the jackpot. It wasn't some lame, C-list power at best. For once, she'd gotten lucky. Maybe this was the reward for all her efforts.
Her suffering.
Though she didn't really believe in that. Karma, the law, justice. Call it what you want. There was no system in favor of good. People in positions of power usually just made things worse, at best looking out for their own interests. If her short life had taught her anything, it was that.
But now, now things had changed, hadn't they? She had powers, she could change things for the better.
But before she could celebrate, she heard the sound of sirens in the distance. The police were coming. She needed to get out of here.
She turned to the man on the ground, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked.
He nodded, still too shocked to speak.
"Good," Taylor said. "Stay safe."
And with that, she stretched her legs and launched herself into the air, disappearing into the night.
Taylor slipped back into her house like a shadow, her movements silent and deliberate. The adrenaline that had carried her through the fight with Uber and Leet was gone now, leaving her drained and shaky. She closed the front door behind her with the softest of clicks, holding her breath as she listened for any sign that her dad might have woken up. The house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the living room. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders sagging with relief.
She crept up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time she reached her room, her legs were trembling, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her hands fumbled with the zipper of her suit, her fingers clumsy with exhaustion. Finally, she managed to peel it off, leaving her in her undershirt and shorts. She folded the suit carefully, hiding it in the back of her closet behind a stack of old notebooks and clothes. Out of sight, out of mind. For now.
Taylor threw herself onto her bed, the springs creaking softly under her weight. She stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing. The fight replayed in her head on a loop—Uber lunging at her, Leet's glowing energy blade slicing through the air, the way her body had twisted and stretched to avoid their attacks. It had all happened so fast. Too fast.
"Fucking hell," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to block out the memories. "I could have died. Fucking hell…"
Except that wasn't really true, was it? It was a dangerous bet to make, but she doubted that blade would have pierced her new, elastic body. She'd felt the way her skin and muscles had absorbed the impact when she'd slammed into the forklift earlier. She wasn't invincible, but she was… durable. Resilient. Still, the thought of what could have happened made her stomach churn.
She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her head was pounding, a dull ache that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, the memories, the fear. But it was no use. The images kept coming—Uber's mocking laugh, Leet's grin, the way they'd looked at her like she was some kind of joke. Pot calling the kettle black, sure. She knew that.
It was still a blade that pierced through her meager defenses easily, in the darkness and silence of the room.
"I'm not a joke," she whispered to the empty room. "I'm not."
But the words felt hollow, even to her. She'd stopped them, sure, but it had been messy. Uncontrolled. She'd been lucky, and she knew it. If they'd been smarter, if they'd been faster, if they'd been anything other than the bumbling idiots they were, things could have gone very differently.
She groaned and pressed her face into her pillow, trying to drown out the thoughts. She needed to sleep. She needed to forget, even if just for a little while. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw their faces, heard their voices, felt the weight of what she'd done pressing down on her chest.
"Stop," she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Just… stop."
She didn't know how long she lay there, tossing and turning, her mind refusing to quiet. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and she drifted into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with shadows and blades and the sound of laughter echoing in the dark.
Who was laughing?
Uber and Leet?
Emma, Sophia and the rest?
Maybe even Alexandria, the superheroine she used to look up to? Taylor didn't even know.
The morning light filtered through the kitchen curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. Taylor sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. She stared into its depths, her mind elsewhere, while the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. Her father, Danny, stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease that felt almost too normal, too mundane, when there was this storm raging inside her.
"You've been quiet this morning," Danny said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with concern. "Everything okay?"
Taylor forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her lips. "Yeah. Just… tired, I guess."
Danny nodded, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. He slid a pancake onto a plate and brought it over to the table, setting it down in front of her. "You've been tired a lot lately," he said, sitting down across from her. "You sure there's nothing else going on?"
Taylor picked up her fork, poking at the pancake without much enthusiasm. "It's nothing, Dad. Just… school stuff."
Danny sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Taylor, I know you don't like talking about it, but… I'm worried about you. That thing with the locker—it's not nothing. You don't just… get over something like that."
Taylor's stomach twisted. She'd hoped he wouldn't bring it up. She'd hoped they could just pretend it never happened, that they could go on with their lives like everything was fine. But of course, he wouldn't let it go. He was her dad. He cared. And that made it so much harder.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice tight. "Really. It's… it's over. Nothing to worry about."
"Is it?" Danny asked, his tone gentle but probing. "Because you haven't told me how you got out. You haven't told me anything, really. And I can't help you if you don't let me in, Taylor."
Taylor's grip tightened on her fork. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to scream it all out—the bullying, the locker, the powers, the fight with Uber and Leet. But the words stuck in her throat, heavy and suffocating. How could she explain any of it without sounding like she'd lost her mind? How could she tell him she'd become something… other, something she didn't even fully understand herself?
"I just… got out," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how. It's all kind of a blur."
Danny studied her for a long moment, his expression a mix of sadness and frustration. "Taylor, I know you don't want to talk about it, but… you can't keep everything bottled up like this. It's not healthy. And I hate seeing you like this—so closed off, so… distant."
Taylor looked away, her chest tightening. She hated this. Hated the way he looked at her, like she was some fragile thing that might shatter at any moment. She wasn't fragile. She wasn't weak. She'd survived the locker. She'd fought Uber and Leet. She was stronger than he knew. But how could she tell him that without revealing everything?
"I'm fine, Dad," she said again, her voice firmer this time. "I just… need some time. That's all."
Danny sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "Alright. I won't push. But… if you ever want to talk, I'm here. And if you need help—with anything—you just have to ask. Okay?"
Taylor nodded, though the guilt gnawed at her. She knew he meant well. He always did. But she couldn't let him in. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Danny tapping his fingers against the table. Then, hesitantly, he said, "You know… maybe you should talk to Emma. She's always been a good friend to you. Maybe she could help."
Taylor froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. The name alone was like a knife to the chest, twisting and sharp. Emma. Her former best friend. Her tormentor. The one who didn't just stand by, but actively participated as Sophia and Madison destroyed her life. The idea of going to Emma for help was so absurd, so painfully ironic, that it almost made her laugh. Almost.
"No," she said quickly, her voice sharper than she intended. She set her fork down, her appetite gone. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Danny frowned. "Why not? You two used to be so close. I'm sure she'd want to help if she knew what was going on."
Taylor's hands clenched into fists under the table. "It's complicated, Dad. Just… trust me. Emma's not an option."
Danny looked like he wanted to argue, but he must have seen something in her expression that stopped him. He nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn't fade. "Alright. If you say so."
The conversation died after that, the silence between them heavy and uncomfortable. Taylor pushed her plate away, the pancakes untouched. "I think I'm going to go for a run," she said, standing up abruptly. "Clear my head."
Danny looked up at her, his expression softening. "Okay. Just… be careful, alright?"
Taylor nodded, forcing another smile. "I will."
She grabbed her sneakers and slipped out the door, the cool morning air hitting her like a slap. She started running almost immediately, her feet pounding against the pavement as she tried to outpace the thoughts swirling in her head. But no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't escape them.
Emma. The locker. The powers. The fight. Her dad's worried face. It all chased her, a relentless tide that threatened to pull her under. She ran harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her legs burning with the effort. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
She stopped eventually, doubling over with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest heaved, her heart pounding in her ears. She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but the emotions were too much. Too raw. Too real.
"Fuck," she whispered, her voice breaking. She straightened up, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. She'd cried enough already.
She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty street ahead of her. The world felt too big, too overwhelming. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know who she was anymore. All she knew was that she couldn't go back. Not to the way things were before. Not to the person she used to be.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stand tall. She didn't have all the answers. She didn't even know if she was doing the right thing. But she had to keep moving forward. She had to try.
And maybe, just maybe, she'd figure it out along the way.
NetEase, buff Reed and my life is yours.