Note: It's time to start He. Also, to hell with midterms, blocking me just when I got out of writer's block.

-The Light of Brockton Bay-

A lone three-headed wolf stalked the streets. The soft patter of the rain masks the sound of its movements. It could feel its next meal soon approaching, and it was hungry. A jolt of electricity goes through the utility pole impaling its back into its spine. The wolf decided to turn left down a nearby alleyway. The alleyway wasn't even like the road before; the rain collected into pools of water; the wolf would have to avoid those.

The wolf's three heads scanned the alley it was moving down; its three collective sets of eyes and ears made for a far better ability to sense what was ahead. It was not long until the wolf found some prey. A man hit a woman just behind a large truck. Obviously, they were fighting over food. They were distracted; the wolf thought it best to strike now.

The wolf pounced. The woman saw it first but could only scream. Claws dug into the man's shoulder, rending flesh and bone alike. The man screamed now, but it was already to late. The wolf bit his abdomen, and the electricity coursing through the wolf's veins surged. Sparks flew, and the man spasmed.

A jolt of electricity went through the utility pole again. The wolf suddenly felt danger and jerked its body to the side. A man holding a blade narrowly missed the wolf's neck. The wolf raised one of its heads and howled into the night. The man held his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. An electrically charged swipe sent him flying into a nearby concrete wall. Two men now lay dead in an alleyway.

The wolf went to claim his prize. Three humans would keep it fed for a while. The woman on the ground was still alive, though; its screaming had ceased, and it could only look on in horror. The wolf approached it and held its claws high, ready to finish this in a singular strike.

A jolt of electricity surged from the utility pole into the wolf once again. The wolf's claws stilled as it thought. The wolf decided against killing the woman. It was already hard enough to carry around two bodies; a third would be too much. The wolf lowered its claws and turned away, moving towards the two still bodies. It picked up both of them in one mouth each, leaving one mouth empty. Now the wolf only had to find shelter.

As it made its way down the alley, it encountered a split in the path. It turned it's head to go left and started walking. A jolt of electricity went through the utility pole and made its way into the wolf. The wolf decided to instead go right.

-The Light of Brockton Bay-

'Static'

"Your duty is to-."

[Expunged]

'Static'

I watched the terrified City dweller attempt to-.

[Expunged]

'Static'

The Arbiter I was assigned to raised her hand and-.

[Expunged]

'Static'

I watched the door slowly open. I was finally going to meet the head. A moment later, the door opened to reveal-.

[Redacted]

'Static'

-The Light of Brockton Bay-

- Taylor's POV

I came to awareness once again; my dream slowly faded from static into silence just a moment ago. I go to take a look around me, only to notice that I somehow have awareness of what is around me. I can't feel my body; I'm pretty sure I don't have one. I should be panicking, but I strangely feel calm about all of this.

I take a millisecond to scan my surroundings. I'm in a room with metal walls painted a light beige. There is a barebones bed beside me, with medical equipment scattered nearby. The near-invisible cracks in the ceiling probably have turrets filled with containment foam in them. This is a PRT-holding cell, and I'm in it. Cells like this would contain only one person, which means this medical equipment was for me. I must have been unconscious long enough for me to require medical-based sustenance.

My body is gone, replaced by a large glass box with machinery on both its top and bottom. Again, this should make me feel something, but everything just feels... muted. I choose to ignore that for now; it doesn't matter at the moment. I feel like something happened when I got this identity. I would normally have memories of the identity I get, but the memories I just got feel incomplete.

If I'm a machine, then I should be able to access the data that is stored within me. Acting on what I can only assume is instinct, I flip a mental switch, and the world around me shifts as I activate [Redacted]'s singularity.

My vision changes back to normal, and I can feel my feelings come back to me. Having your legs come back into existence is a weird process, and it causes me to stumble. 'That felt weird.' I take a look at my surroundings, only to be even more confused. I'm in an impossibly large office; pieces of what seem to be code travel around me through the air, sent from one computer only to phase into another.

I walk around slowly while taking in my new surroundings. It should be impossible for code to just exist like this, but it does so anyway. I had just activated [Redacted]'s-. 'Wait, what?' I ignored it before, but now that I'm back to normal, I can't help but feel the jarring nature of my memories. I keep on trying to think about this identity's memories. Something clicks. Bits and pieces of my memories fly by, and by fly by, I literally mean they fly by me.

Pieces of paper fly through the air onto the desk next to me; piles and piles line up in stacks, ready for me to read. Most of the pile is burnt, with almost no legible words. I take a look at one of the [Expunged] memories. Other than a few basic words like 'I' and 'or,' nothing on the page is readable. I'm not sure what [Expunged] means, but if these are my memories, then the [Expunged] ones might be burned pages.

Just like when I summoned the pages of memories, I gave a mental command, and something clicked again. The pages organized themselves, with burned pages in one pile and regular pages in another. I quickly flipped through the burned ones, only for my deduction to be correct as all of them were [Expunged]. I give another mental push, and all the burned pages fly away to somewhere far off in the office.

Looking at the second group of papers, I take a moment and think. I can sort through the burned ones with my thoughts; maybe I can sort through them in other ways. Finally, I get an idea. I give a mental push again and try to search for memories specifically on [Redacted]'s singularity. I'm met with success as a couple of sheets dislodge themselves from the pile and fly into my hands.

I choose one of the pages and start to read through it, only to run into a second problem. Most of these pages are technical jargon, and while this new pile is barely a fraction of the whole, it is still a couple hundred pages. 'I wish there was a summary of this.'

I hear a noise behind me. I turn around and find a printer that just turned on. After a moment, it spits out a page that flies into my hand. The page has a title at the top labeled 'Summary.' 'Well, that's convenient.'

There are some black spots on the page, like someone went over some words with a black marker. When I try and read them, I can only tell that they're [Redacted]. Ignoring that, I start reading from the top of the page

[Redacted]'s singularity involves two main functions. The first of which is the manifestation of cyberspace into a visible and interactable environment in the mind. The exact appearance of the manifestation is different for each user, as it is based on their own preconceptions of what data should look like. Common interpretations include offices, factories, schools, etc.

The second function is the ability to use unused parts of the brain as a functional artificial general intelligence. This part is what allows for the interaction with objects within cyberspace. This leaves part of the brain thinking normally (primary brain) and the other part acting semi-autonomously (secondary brain). It should be noted that this doesn't split the brain into two. They are both still connected, but the connection is unconscious, which creates the perception that they are two different parts.

Let's say that you write down words on a piece of paper. The secondary brain would interface with the computer and create a text document, which would manifest as a piece of paper to the primary brain. The primary brain would write on the page, and the secondary brain would interface with the text document and type down what was being written.

That's... actually kind of sick. That would mean this office is... my brain, and I am the primary brain? Ironically, I can feel a headache coming on just from thinking about how this works. I turn back to the pieces of paper. I push for my secondary brain to find relevant information on my current identity

Several pieces of paper fly into my hands. After skimming through the first few, I find that the memories of my other identities are also here. Even though I could just use my head to remember my memories normally, the pieces of paper make it a lot easier to go through them. After reading a few pages, I come to a shocking conclusion.

I'm a beholder.

The reason I know is that all City dwellers are required to know what arbiters, beholders, and claws look like. Mimicking the appearance of any of the three is an A Corp taboo, and breaking it will have a claw sent to your doorstep. I should have recognized what I was immediately after seeing what I looked like, but the idea of being a beholder was just so out there that a part of me refused to even question whether I was one.

To non-City dwellers, this doesn't mean much. But to my identities that lived in the City, this is astonishing. Beholders are the eyes of the head, residing in the B Corp nest. They are elusive and rarely ever seen, but all City dwellers know that beholders are dangerous.

Beholders know what you have done, sometimes before you have even done it. Some backstreet rat every once in a while will try to scrap together a makeshift gun while not a single soul or camera is watching. Yet every time it happens, it's detected, and said poor rat gets a visit from the boogeyman.

This... this can work. Beholders are at least known to have some kind of teleportation. In fact, what kind of powers does a beholder have? With another mental push, the printer turns on again. The new page is another summary of sorts. There's a bunch of stuff that I would just assume a beholder to have. Such as a very hard-to-break 'body' made of what I can only assume to be X Corp alloys.

Under the section of singularities, things get interesting. There are three listed; apparently I should have more, but some are missing, and any knowledge as a beholder I had of them is [Expunged]. Even then, two of the three I have are damaged in some way. There's [Expunged]'s singularity, W Corp's singularity, and [Redacted]'s singularity. 'I'm never going to be used to the feeling of thinking of the concept of redaction.'

I give a mental push and turn all references of [Redacted]'s name to 'Cyber Corp.' I read W Corp's singularity, and I'm surprised to find two different ones. The first one is a save and load feature, where you can 'save' the state of an object and 'load' said object back to its save state. The second is the ability to make portals that can lead to different locations or dimensions. Unfortunately, the dimensional aspect is destroyed, so I can't be Dr. Haywire 2.0.

Now the final singularity, I have no idea. It's all [Expunged]. I know it's there, but I have no info on it. I have a vague feeling about how to use it, which is strange considering all memories of it are [Expunged]. It kind of feels like muscle memory.

With just W Corp alone, I can escape this cell. But with Cyber Corp's singularity, I have an opportunity to do more. I mentally try and pull up any kind of nearby signal, like Wi-Fi. I'm left amazed at my secondary brain because the room shifts around me, and I'm left in a hallway of doors. The doors all lead to different routers and satellites I can receive data from. Whatever coding the PRT has is nothing compared to however I'm coded as a beholder.

I wander around for a little bit, browsing at my connections before picking a PRT router. The door leading to it is locked, which I'm guessing means I need proper identification. I can vaguely feel my secondary brain work in the background for a bit before something drops into my hands. A simple iron key sits in my grasp. Raising the key, I put it into the door and unlock it.

The inside of the router is much the same as the hallway before me. More sets of doors, although some are a lot more heavily locked down. 'PRT-ENE-OPS-012, random operating system. PRT-ENE-WARD-003, Ward lounge computer; they have those up already? PRT-ENE-CONTAIN-CAM-002, containment cell camera. Ooh, what do we have here?' In front of me was the most locked-up door in the entire room labeled 'PRT-ENE-MAINFRAME.'

I still have no doubts the security is lacking compared to what I have. Although it takes longer, my secondary brain cracks whatever is keeping us out, and the chains on the door fall off. What did surprise me was a cloak appearing on my back. I give a shrug; obviously, there's a reason to have it. I turn the handle and swing the door open.

Rows and rows of filing cabinets fill the room. I would be looking at them a little more heavily, but something else has my attention. Cameras are in the room, which would be some kind of security. I guess it would be kind of obvious there would be security in their mainframe, but all of this is new and surprising. 'I guess this is what the cloak is for.' I'm not sure what it's exactly doing, but no alarms are going off.

I have some time to spare; I'm pretty sure that all of this cyberspace stuff is happening thousands of times slower. Which means the hour I've spent in here has only been one or two seconds outside. I start to look at random filing cabinets. I find a lot of useless pieces of information. 'Expense-Reports-Q1-2011. xlsx, Janitorial-Duties-Schedule. csv, PRT-Caf-Menu-January-2011. pdf'

It takes a little bit of searching, but I manage to find the good stuff. Hero and director personnel files, and they're the heavily classified ones. Each cabinet is for a separate hero, first the Wards, then the Protectorate heroes. Opening Armsmaster's, I'm met with a treasure trove of information. Personal information, real name, power classifications, power descriptions, list of Tinkertech objects, disciplinary record, etc. That last one is unsurprisingly small. 'Who the hell gets in trouble for berating a janitor for cleaning inefficiently?'

I'm a little hesitant to go this far, but I'm done playing by the rules. I'm obviously not going to blackmail them... yet. But just having the option can only benefit me. I give a mental push, and I can vaguely feel a copy of these files printing off back where I started. Moving onwards, I open the rest up one by one until I have copies of each. 'I didn't know Piggot survived Nilbog.'

I'm about to leave for now, but something catches my eye. A wooden hatch is carefully tucked away under one of the cabinets nearby. 'Is that a trap door?' Approaching the cabinet on top of it, I carefully shift it over. 'Yup, that's a trap door.'

What could a trapdoor mean, though? It's supposed to be a secret, but why would there be a secret exit in a server room? But what if it isn't an exit? If it's a secret entrance instead, wouldn't this make it a back door? Are you telling me the PRT is already breached? Is the entirety of the PRT just incompetent, or is this some kind of sick joke?

Shaking off the bit of anger rising in me, I get an idea from the trapdoor. I give a push, and my secondary brain gets to work. It took about half a minute to get in here, so it shouldn't take to long to make a backdoor once I'm already in. Slowly, a light glow comes out from the middle of the floor, and a thin crack is left. It's almost invisible to the naked eye, so no one is finding this anytime soon.

'Okay! Information heist successful! Now all I have to do is return and teleport out of my cell. Shouldn't be too hard.' But as luck would have it, the PRT server had one last thing to show me. The door I was about to approach unlocks, and a figure steps through. I scramble behind a cabinet; I can feel my digital heart pounding. 'What the fuck? Why is there a PERSON walking around here?'

I slink quietly around the room, avoiding direct lines of sight. I hear the person walking towards the personnel filing cabinets I just stole information from. I take a peek to try and get a good look at the visitor. I can just barely see their face, but as a cape geek, I would know that face even if I saw it from a worse angle. 'Dragon? Why is Dragon here?'

Dragon is currently looking over Armsmaster's files. "The sensors said this was just accessed, but no one is even connected to these files right now. Did I code the sensors incorrectly?" While Dragon is muttering to herself, I'm making my way out. I don't know what's going on right now, but I am not staying around to find out.

I make my way outside the PRT mainframe and book it back into my own body's computer system. I would be out of breath, but none of this is actually real. I go towards the printer and send the files I copied to be stored somewhere in my databanks. I can't operate my W Corp warp drive from within the Cyber Corp singularity, so I have to get out of cyberspace before I escape. With a final mental push, my vision warps, and I'm left feeling...

Empty.

I check my surroundings once again. Nothing has changed. My internal clock tells me I spent 3.295 seconds inside of Cyber Corps singularity. That will be useful for extending my time to think if I ever need it. I check my W Corp singularity; it's still operational, but diagnostics are giving me... strange information. It shouldn't be working; I'm missing some parts that should be vital, but it's registering as operational but damaged.

That's illogical and impossible. Unless my powers are directly affecting it. As I check my light, I notice checking my current light levels feels weird as a beholder. Aside from that, my light levels are low, and they're draining slowly. I haven't explored this identity completely yet, but from the current quick scans and some assumptions on my part, I'm left with a theory of what might be happening.

There's a possibility that as an agent of the head, there are things that could be inaccessible to the light, or I'm not strong enough to create them yet. Necessary components, materials, something that is required for beholders to function. There's a chance that my light is acting like a substitute. I know Carmen was messing with this identity; it was her gift anyway. She would have a lot more experience with the light, so there is a chance she could set up something like this.

Why didn't she give me a complete one? As I get more accustomed to the light, it feels like the 'power level' of my identities gets higher. A beholder is immensely stronger than what I should be able to have, so a 'damaged' one might cause less of a strain.

This presents a problem because I don't know how much light I'm going to use by teleporting. There is a possibility it won't cost light for me to teleport, but seeing as W Corp singularity is damaged, I'm discounting those possibilities. I'm already on fumes as it is.

My deliberation is met with a speaker coming on in my cell. "Da'at, this is Miss Militia. If you are still in this cell, please respond." The PRT doesn't know that my current form is me. Even though my emotions are mostly muted, they're going to know I teleported out anyways, so I guess I can give them a goodbye.

Light flickers in the glass box that makes up a significant portion of my body. A vaguely humanoid hologram appears in its contents. "I am still here."

The room goes silent. Miss Militia is most likely receiving instructions from someone higher up. "What... happened to you?"

My hologram of static presses its hand on the glass. "I got a new identity."

Another brief pause. "I'm going to have to request you to revert back into your base form."

The static shakes its head. "I will have to deny that request."

Miss Militia barely gets a noise in before I interrupt her. "I recently had a revelation of sorts. You're all incompetent, and the rules you institute are flimsy at best. So, with some encouragement from a... friend, I came to the conclusion: I'll have to do your job better."

My hand recedes from the glass pane. "My freakout was just that, a freakout. I regret that it happened, not because it got me in trouble, but because it wasn't well thought out. It happening didn't help anyone. I've had some time to process it. I still want to help people, but being a hero is obviously not cutting it, for both me and the Bay as a whole."

This time the intercom comes on a lot quicker. "Someone contacted you while you were in your cell?"

I prepare to use my W Corp singularity. They can never find Carmen, so there's no need to worry about naming her. Knowing I've been contacted along with the name of the person will divert their attention away from me towards a person they will never find. "You won't ever find them, but their name is Carmen. I guess you could say she gave me the insight to walk a new path."

I activate my W Corp warp drive. "I will most likely be seeing you again. Let's hope it's on a better note."

"Da'at wait a minu-" I hear Miss Militia plead over the mic, but it's cut off as my warp drive goes off.

And all that's left is an empty containment cell.