Path That Leads To Eternity (Gold Dragon Taylor)

by Saphroneth

Taylor Hebert's trigger has turned her into an extremely large and powerful dragon. Everyone should probably be quite relieved that it's also made her willing to forgive.

2. Warding Off Trouble

Taylor's claws clicked on the keyboard as she typed, occasionally frowning as she thought about how to phrase something, then continued with the thread of what she was trying to say.

With the way that her power seemed to have given her a reasonable knowledge and understanding of Most Things, Taylor had spent a while thinking about the ways to use that, and one of the ones she'd come up with was simply – cross-disciplinary work.

If she had the equivalent of a BA or BSc or similar in everything, then in any one field she was definitely solid, but by definition there would be people who were better than her at any given subject. But it was much rarer to have people with degree qualification levels of knowledge or expertise at combinations of skills… and which was what led her to her current project, putting together a first-pass analysis of the military revolution caused by gunpowder across the world, the differences in how the military package worked in different environments, and the social impacts that it had.

That meant military history, but it also meant geography, conventional history about almost every single region of the world, economics, and in some cases physics and chemistry. The question of how much Chinese metalworking technology had been superior to that of the Mediterranean world was relevant, and the whole thing had the pleasant sort of air of something she could nibble away at for months or years before producing a single giant book.

It helped that Wards membership came with university library access, including to everything that had been scanned – which, after Bibliator's short but effective tenure at the Library of Congress, meant a lot more than she'd expected.

Her phone chirped, and Taylor glanced at the time, then saved her work and closed the file.

Her next meeting was in a few minutes.

---

The door-knock came so close to the scheduled time that Taylor was sure the man had been waiting outside for a couple of minutes already, but she was hardly going to hold a grudge over that.

"Come in," she called, and the door opened.

"...my word," the man said, then shook his head. "Ah. Wyrm, yes?"

"That's me," Taylor confirmed. "Any of the chairs is fine, they're for visitors."

For obvious reasons.

The man – a Mr. Kovacs, she recalled – took a seat at the table, then got some notes out of his briefcase.

"All right," he said. "So… Wyrm, before we begin, just to make sure you understand the purpose of this meeting?"

"In broad terms, yes," Taylor agreed. "You're a Youth Guard representative, here to speak to me because I'm an underage Cape – though the precise agenda isn't something I've actually been told about."

She shrugged her wings slightly. "That's not a major concern. I assume there's a lot to talk about."

"There is, yes," Kovacs agreed. "So… obviously, despite any information that's been passed on to me, I'll need to verify independently a lot of these categories. If you can verify that you are, in fact, underage?"

"I'm fifteen," Taylor said, and Kovacs made a tick on his paperwork. "Is that really something it's necessary to check?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Kovacs told her. "There's concerns about wasted Youth Guard resources."

Taylor didn't comment on that, but she did note it.

"Right," Kovacs went on. "So, your education. What's your current educational status?"

"Technically speaking, I would probably qualify as absent from my school of record," Taylor replied. "That's mostly because I wouldn't fit in it any more, and my understanding is that a lot of other people are also absent from it because of the mess I made of it on the way out."

She shrugged. "However, every test I've done so far indicates that I have functionally learned everything that a high school could teach me about academic subjects, so I'm pursuing a GED."

"It's generally considered that there's things besides the academic that students benefit from at a high school," Kovacs noted. "Socializing, structure and so on."

"And it gets the children out of the way of their parents," Taylor added. "But… while I understand the concept, I have trouble thinking it would work that way, and that's for two reasons. One of them is that it would be effectively impossible for me to be treated like a normal student. That's just a fact. And secondly… I know you're with the Youth Guard, Mr. Kovacs, but how much do you know about how people get powers?"

Kovacs frowned slightly.

"I know people get them effectively at random," he said. "And that they're usually associated with moments of stress?"

"Moments of stress, yes," Taylor concurred. "I got mine from a bullying incident. You can hopefully understand why I think the upsides of attending a high school don't really make the downsides worth it."

That led to some more note taking.

"I see," Mr. Kovacs said. "That's… delicately explained, I suppose. Though I hope that in lieu of that you're getting some sort of socialization with your peers, anyway. The Wards program might serve for that, but it's not necessarily enough."

He flipped over to a new sheet. "Now, your family situation… how is your relationship with your family? There can be cases where a Cape has too much contact with their family and cases where there's too little. And of course anything in this discussion is confidential."

Taylor sighed.

"My situation with Dad is… tricky," she admitted. "We were having a rough spot before I got my powers, and now… well, we do talk over the phone, but we can't really be in the same place often or it might put him in danger. I simply can't have a secret identity, and there's a reason why Capes try to have them."

She examined a paw. "I'm a powerful Cape, and if someone wanted to get leverage over me, they might try threatening Dad. I just… don't want that to happen."

Mr. Kovacs nodded.

"I see," he said. "Speaking of being under threat, though – there are some concerns that you might be being placed in harm's way by the Protectorate."

Taylor shook her head.

"I haven't been," she replied. "I know I'm a big target, and I've been involved in a couple of fairly minor altercations, but my Wards patrol schedule has been normal except for the fact that I'm mostly paired with people who can fly."

She tilted her head slightly. "In addition, I should make it clear that I haven't been pressured about that sort of thing. I have had a conversation with Armsmaster about the sort of danger I was likely to get into, which was about the technical details of my armour, and one with Miss Militia and Velocity about Endbringer fights, but neither carried any implication that I should seek out danger – or that I was in some way inferior if I didn't."

"That's a comprehensive answer," Mr. Kovacs conceded. "But I want to be sure that you know your rights."

"I've read the legal summaries," Taylor answered. "Frankly with the kind of powers that I have, responsibilities are every bit as important as rights – or more important. Yes, I'm not a legal adult, but I'm highly resistant to bullets – if I got in the way of a gun, even without my armour, then I probably wouldn't end up with any sort of serious wound, and the person the gun was pointed at would be much better off. At some point, I need to be making those decisions."

She spread a paw. "I know that as a child, there are some ways where people would say that my safety was to be protected better than that of others. And I wouldn't place my life as less important than the safety of others. But whether my safety is more important than the lives of others? That's… up to me to decide, I think."

Kovacs made some more notes.

"Have you been coached for this discussion?" he asked.

"No," Taylor replied. "But I have been thinking quite deeply about related themes. It's a personal matter."

She wasn't going to expose Sophia over this. Her former nemesis was getting at least some therapy, as promised, and while she remained short and sharp… Taylor had scented the fresh salt tang of tears on her face, once.

Retributive justice was not something she would seek, not if restorative justice might work.

---

Mr. Kovacs went through several more pages, mostly more mundane and about specific legal requirements that he said the PRT and Protectorate had been known to skimp on, then he reached one and frowned.

"And do you have a counsellor or therapist?" he asked.

Taylor shifted her weight, adjusting her posture – still nonthreatening, but something about that question was…

...interesting.

"I do, yes," she said. "What would be the answer if I didn't?"

"The Youth Guard could arrange for a suitable therapist through Brockton General," Kovacs said, and the thing Taylor had noticed clicked into focus for her.

"Does the Youth Guard not have any therapists on staff itself?" she asked. "And do you do this sort of thing with all the Wards and other parahuman children?"

"Well – no, we don't," Kovacs replied. "Not for the first question, we don't have therapists on staff. We make sure to have meetings with all the Wards, since they're the easiest to approach, though you've been more understanding than most."

Taylor nodded, slightly.

"How many former teachers are there in the Youth Guard?" she asked. "Child psychologists? People who are used to dealing with traumatized individuals?"

"I'm sure there's a few," Kovacs replied. "Wyrm, these are worrying questions."

"Your answers are more worrying, Mr. Kovacs," Taylor replied. "Mr. Kovacs, the Youth Guard has thirty thousand employees across the United States; the total number of individuals in the Wards program is about six thousand. Two thirds of the adult population donates to the Youth Guard on a regular basis. I hope you can see why the lack of therapists is a problem – the resources available to the Youth Guard are quite extensive."

She shook her head. "I'm not blaming you for this, please understand – but the size of the organization and their funding really suggests that they should be able to provide more extensive care than they are."

Mr. Kovacs looked like he was absolutely pole-axed by the direction the interview had suddenly gone.

"Miss Wyrm, I'm not sure what you're trying to insinuate about my organization," he said.

"I'm not really insinuating anything," Taylor replied. "Or, not wrongdoing, anyway. It's more along the lines of… the Youth Guard grew out of a lawsuit case involving a Ward who wasn't given sufficient opportunity to live his home life, where the PRT was sued and lost. So it's natural that the Youth Guard focuses their efforts on looking for PRT wrongdoing, such as cases where overwork leads to poor grades, or cases where parents complain – but that focus specifically on trying to find PRT wrongdoing and sue them is, I think, past the point of diminishing returns."

She stood up, stretched, then lay back down again where she'd been to talk to him.

"And the result of that," she went on, since he hadn't said anything during the pause, "is that the Youth Guard appears to be spending resources on things in the wrong balance. They're still in the mindset of the ACLU, which has a staff of five hundred along with several thousand volunteer attorneys and who are going up against the might of the entire Federal government on every single issue of civil liberties across the whole US population – but they're so much larger relative to the problem they're trying to deal with that that kind of mindset leads to mistakes."

Taylor thought about Sophia, who had been bullying her for months without anyone from the Youth Guard apparently noticing… and it would have been worse if they had.

But assuming they hadn't, they'd… well, failed to keep track of what a Ward was doing in school. Sophia hadn't been subtle, exactly.

She exhaled. "The Youth Guard doesn't need to do more outreach, they have the highest approval rating of any charity; they have a lot of attorneys on staff waiting for the chance to file a lawsuit, and from our conversation today it sounds like a lot of what they do is watch the PRT looking for the PRT to make a mistake – instead of taking pains to reach out to all underage Parahumans regardless of affiliation,treating them as allies, and making sure that their home and school lives are harmonious."

Mr. Kovacs looked troubled.

"All underage Parahumans?" he asked.

"There are several underage villains in this city alone," Taylor replied. "And some unaffiliated Rogue capes. People don't become criminals for no reason, and people become parahumans after a very stressful experience, as I've mentioned – the PRT doesn't have the resources or the means to approach these people to try and get them out of crime, especially if they don't trust the Federal government. But the Youth Guard does."

The Youth Guard representative didn't meet her gaze.

"You've… given me a lot to think about," he said, quietly. "You're right, though – we really should have a broader remit."

Then he managed a chuckle. "Though… I don't know if anything can change immediately."

"It won't change if nobody tries to change it," Taylor said. "And, like I say, I don't think what you do is wrong. I, personally, don't think I need the Youth Guard's services – but the check-up is appreciated. I just think that there's a lot more you could be doing than what you are."

---

"So… why do we have to be out here now?" Alec asked, his arms folded and his breath misting in the air. "It's fucking freezing."

"It's always freezing," Brian pointed out, from under his helmet. "It's winter."

"Yeah, but your costume is actually warm," Alec replied. "And it's much colder when it's this late at night."

Rachel gave them all a vaguely hostile stare at the byplay, and Lisa tried not to sigh.

And tried not to let her power off the leash, because she didn't want to get the usual stream of trivia about… whatever it was going to latch onto this time.

"We're out here because there isn't really a better time to hit a cinema," she said. "I checked the schedule, the last few films are going in within the next twenty minutes and none are coming out for half an hour. And nobody else is around because it's late."

"And freezing," Alec said.

"If it wasn't freezing there'd be way more people," Lisa pointed out. "Look, we need to be in and out fairly quick, we're a good way away from the places where the police response is too fast but we still don't want them to show up. And if there's not many crowds, that's a good thing."

"Didn't you say we wanted crowds last time?" Brian asked.

"That was for the confusion, and people getting in the way of one another," Lisa replied. "This is for people not getting in our way. Totally different."

"Are you going to keep talking?" Rachel asked.

"If I'm asked questions, yeah," Lisa answered. "Okay, we should be, what, another ten minutes…"

"I should have brought a coat or something," Alec muttered. "I bet it's less windy at ground level."

"There isn't any way we'd go unnoticed at ground level, not waiting around for this long and with most of us wearing cape outfits," Lisa countered. "The whole point here is not to be noticed until we move in – we take the ladder down, Bitch does her thing, we're in an alleyway for a few minutes and at worst someone raises the alarm a few minutes before we hit the place. Instead of half an hour before."

She shrugged. "Maybe if you'd brought a coat or something? It's not like this is the first time we've waited on a roof."

Alec made a rude gesture.

Judas twitched suddenly, then looked up and yipped, and Rachel pushed herself off where she'd been leaning. She looked around with an urgent speed, then all three of her dogs made a strangled sound that was nothing like their usual barks.

Dogs are scared- Lisa's power began, then a moment later there was a sudden rush of wind and something big landed on the other side of the roof.

Rachel began to shout something, then broke off with a strangled sound that was a lot like the whine her dogs had made.

Dogs are terrified

Rachel is terrified

Predator

LARGE predator

Predator is Cape

Predator is Wyrm of the Brockton Bay Wards

Wyrm's flight is not aerodynamically correct-

Lisa twitched her head, trying to throw off the stream of information, then Brian smokescreened the whole area, coating them all in a wave of thick, black smoke.

"Go for the stairs-" he began, his voice distorted by the smoke, then there was a sudden gust of wind and a surge of blue and gold flame all around them.

Lisa blinked a couple of times as the flash of blue and gold faded, then realized – she could see again, and watch Wyrm's wings as they drew back from the movement that had flapped air at them all.

And Brian's smoke had fucking gone.

Whether it was the wind from Wyrm's wings, or the breath… she didn't know, but the fact that she'd been bathed in the flame and hadn't even felt it was incredibly intimidating.

Seeing a dragon burn a container ship down to the waterline was one thing. Seeing her demonstrate total control over who and what got affected by her power was something else entirely.

Temperature is not elevated

Breath weapon attack does not involve breathing fire

Breath weapon directly attacks matter

Unclear if breath weapon can be blocked

Senses mean that Wyrm could pick out targets in pitch blackness

Cannot find a way to win

Do not engage

Lisa wanted to shout that she wasn't planning on it anyway to her power, but – it wasn't like that would do any good, and she was busy trying to think about what they could do in this situation.

She twitched towards the stairs, and Wyrm's head instantly twitched in return to look at her.

"I'd advise not doing anything… precipitate," the Ward said, her voice calm. "I have an area attack and I can knock you out without hurting you – but I'd rather talk."

"Sure," Lisa said. "Uh. Why are you here, anyway?"

"I was out for a flight," Wyrm answered. "I thought it was a bit unusual to see four teens and three dogs on a rooftop, so I thought I'd see what was going on."

"What the fuck," Alec breathed. "What is this shit?"

"Regent, don't antagonize her," Brian said, sounding about as calm as Lisa felt, which was to say – visibly trying not to panic. "I'd rather not antagonize the giant dragon we're standing in front of."

"My power isn't fucking working," Alec said, his voice as low as possible. "This is bullshit."

Wyrm can hear the whole conversation, Lisa's power told her, helpfully. Wyrm is confident. Feels in control of the situation.

That was fair. Lisa was pretty sure Wyrm was in control of the situation, right now at least.

"Where's your partner?" she asked, trying to find out anything she could to get a favourable outcome out of this mess.

"I'm off duty," Wyrm answered. "So, with that in mind… I'm fairly sure you're the Undersiders."

"I'm not going to jail," Rachel said, shaking her head.

Her gaze was fixed roughly on a line with Wyrm's lower neck or torso, below her head. Not willing to look Wyrm in the eye.

She was doing better than her dogs, who were all trying to pretend they were part of the roof.

"You see, I was thinking about that," Wyrm said. "Because… I'm not going to promise that I won't arrest you, at some point. And if you do try to commit a crime, I'd have to stop that. But tonight, it's probably more valuable for us to just… talk."

"Talk?" Lisa asked, then coughed. "Talk? About what?"

"Joining the Wards, or some shit?" Alec asked. "That's not going to happen."

"I can understand if you're reluctant to join the Wards," Wyrm said, and – weirdly – Lisa actually did believe her.

"Then what do you want to talk about?" Brian said.

"Well, I'd be interested in hearing why you're driven to crime in the first place," Wyrm replied. "Because… exceptional cases aside, most people turn to crime because they have a solid reason to do it. And sometimes that reason is that they can make far more money that way, and have a better life than they could have if they stayed legitimate… and sometimes that reason is that they don't feel that they have a legitimate option at all."

This was such a surreal conversation, Lisa reflected.

And yet…

...she couldn't help thinking to herself that the whole reason she was Lisa was because being Sarah Livsey would have been a much worse person to be. And that wasn't inherent – it was because of things her parents had done.

Things that didn't have to be a problem forever.

"And, what, we tell you and you fix the problems?" Alec asked.

"Honestly… I probably couldn't," Wyrm answered. "Not by myself. And I'm not going to insist – I understand why Cape identities are best kept quiet, because of the issues of retaliation. But…"

She shrugged.

"Goodness knows, I'm not claiming the system is perfect. It's not. People get messed up by it. It fails people. But the answer to that is to make the system better, not give it up for a bad job and replace it with nothing."

"That's a pretty speech, but you realize you're still asking for us to explain things?" Brian asked.

Wyrm tilted her head, slightly.

"You can be as generic as you want," she said. "I already know what PRT files say about you, or at least the versions they show Wards, but that's one sided."

She nodded towards Rachel.

"For example… the file says Hellhound, but the reports say that you get angry at that name," she said. "What should I call you?"

"Bitch," Rachel muttered.

"That's the name she means," Lisa clarified, quickly, because, again, insulting a dragon.

"I see," Wyrm mused. "Your file says that you killed someone, but generally speaking people don't just… murder. There's a reason for it."

"Why are you bothering with this?" Lisa asked. "It's not what I'd expect a Ward to do."

She was feeling out of sorts. Wyrm had brought up things she preferred not to think about, and – and she wasn't sure how to play this.

Whether she should spill about her parents – or Coil – and how she had no choice because she'd get dragged home or shot for not being in the Undersiders. Or whether she should just stay quiet about it.

"And you said that it wasn't a good system, either," she added, trying to concentrate. "But it seems like you're trying to wave a solution in front of us when – when you don't even know the problem. And when there's not much chance anyone would tell you the problem."

Wyrm nodded.

"I appreciate that," she said. "I had a conversation with someone from the Youth Guard, recently, and I feel like… there should be some way that underage capes who aren't part of the Wards should get their resources to the same degree – or more. Because I'm a Ward, and, yes, that means I'm exposed to the Federal government – but it also means that I've got a support structure. Even if it's just the other Wards and the fact the PRT doesn't want any of us on the streets. But with everyone else… the Protectorate is meant to prevent crime, and fixing crime doesn't mean arresting criminals. You fix crime by making it so people don't do it in the first place."

She looked at the Undersiders, then shrugged.

"I know I'm not going to convince you today," she said. "But I suppose… think about this. If you were offered somewhere to stay without any strings attached, and the money to meet your basic needs – would you take it? And would you still do crime, if that was true?"

Her wings spread, and she took off again with a whoosh of air.

Wyrm did not have her communicator on, Lisa's power provided, helpfully.

"...fuck," Lisa said, with feeling. "Okay, I guess we're fucking off home. No heist tonight."

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "That… she might not have called us in, but if we do anything after that she's going to come down on us like a ton of bricks."

He glanced at Alec. "Your power really couldn't do anything?"

"Not a fucking thing," Alec confirmed, as Rachel's dogs decided they were probably going to survive the night. "I could see where to start but it wasn't starting."

"Performance issues?" Lisa asked.

Alec made her flip the bird at herself, which was surprisingly cathartic.

---

"I'm grateful for all the effort you're putting in," Taylor said, the following day, as Dragon unloaded some equipment from her transport. "I know that Tinkers have a limited amount of time available, and you're – well – Dragon."

"And you're a dragon," Dragon replied, with a chuckle. "Think about it from my point of view, Wyrm. I'm enough of an enthusiast for dragons that I named myself after them, and so much of I create is themed that way – and now I get to work with one?"

She shrugged. "Besides, it's been an interesting project. And while Tinkers have a good supply of those – I'm still interested."

Taylor nodded.

"I don't want to avoid saying it, though," she said. "So – thank you. Now, what is it?"

"I'm curious about that, too," Kid Win admitted. "I tried thinking about what I could design Wyrm to help her, but… I kept running into the problem of how to improve on, well, Wyrm."

"One of these things is a bit of an edge case, but still potentially useful," Dragon conceded. "While I know you've got the healing option with your breath, there are limitations to it."

That much was true – experiments on both fish and injured volunteers had found that Taylor's breath was excellent at trauma medicine, and she could handle most progressive damage as well, but it couldn't replace large missing parts. Repairing blood loss she could do just fine, but a missing eye or arm would remain missing.

"So," Dragon went on. "This is a lightweight system for medical immobilization and evacuation of a single injured individual."

It was surprisingly small as well as lightweight, about two feet on a side and thin, and it had clips so it could either be stowed or fastened around Taylor's body as a carrying harness.

As Dragon demonstrated, it could expand out, secure someone in place, then damp out the acceleration from takeoff. If someone needed to be rushed to the hospital, Taylor's ability to take off vertically from confined spaces could make her the fastest option.

"Assuming Wyrm doesn't just heal them, anyway," Kid Win said, then shrugged. "I know, I know… does it get in the way?"

"I hope not," Dragon admitted. "I examined your physiology to get a sense of what parts need to move, and it shouldn't interrupt anything."

Taylor secured it in place, flexed a few times, then jumped and moved her wings as if to take off.

"It seems fine," she reported. "Thank you – I hope I won't have to use it, but I probably will."

"Yeah," Kid Win agreed. "I feel the same way about some of the stuff I've come up with. Blaster weapons and stuff, for example!"

"My own plan for a gunfight is about disintegrating ammunition," Taylor said. "And, probably, stunning any enemies."

"All I can say is, I hope if I get in a fight that you're around," the younger Tinker chuckled. "Partly because I'm pretty sure that you can take being shot better than I can."

"Speaking of which," Dragon added. "Some of what I took out is for Armsmaster or the other Brockton Bay Wards, but I do want to talk about higher-level combat, Wyrm – partly because you're unlikely to have trouble with anything that's on a lower level."

Taylor nodded, since that made sense.

"In terms of an offensive or defensive focus?" she asked. "Or neither?"

"I got to thinking about offensive systems, but I ran into the same problem Kid Win has mentioned," Dragon admitted. "Which is that it's extremely hard to improve on your own inbuilt capabilities. There are capes out there who might be able to hit harder, but there's not many, and building anything tinkertech that's more effective than your own Blaster power is simply… the kind of problem I have trouble with. But I do have something to show you – this is my Ramoth project."

A much more draconic construct walked in through the loading bay, this one made in colours of gold and silver and matte purple. It was quadrupedal in design, complete with wings and a little bigger than Taylor herself, though the profile was different – in particular, there were several large engines – and Dragon folded her arms.

"I got very interested in what I could do with powered armour, if I had a weight limit of two tons," she said. "That's too heavy for you to fly in it, if it's off, but it's got flight systems of its own."

The Tinker activated something by remote, and 'Ramoth' turned around before opening up with a hiss.

Sure enough, it was a suit of powered armour – designed for Taylor. It looked like she would fit inside it with an inch or two of space, and Taylor gave it a once-over before feeling the inside of the compartment.

"That's flexible," she said. "That's to get a tight seal?"

"Yes, and so you can put it on over your unpowered armour," Dragon confirmed. "The biggest problems you would have in a large scale fight are survivability and tactical mobility across a space the size of Brockton, and this is built to address both – the underlayer is a polymer gel which provides additional support structure, and the outer layers of the armour are ballistic plates. Since your heat tolerance is functionally unlimited then the focus I took was around converting incoming kinetic energy into heat energy where possible."

"Oh, right!" Kid Win said. "So, normally one of the weaknesses of ballistic plate is heat dispersion, because if the plate doesn't fracture the energy has to go somewhere. Right?"

"Correct," Dragon agreed. "Much of the space between the outer and inner layers of the armour is to dissipate impact energy – if a high speed solid object that might pierce your defences becomes an all-over punch and a lot of heat, that's very much a gain."

"I see," Taylor said, thinking through. "If it's supposed to improve my mobility – I could fly in it?"

"Yes," Dragon agreed, readily. "I'm quite proud of this, actually – I developed it through studying the interaction of Kid Win's repulsors when they're placed in close proximity. In effect, flapping your wings triggers multiple low-tuned repulsor effects which act in a superposition, so that you should be quicker and more manoeuvrable in the air without needing to adjust your flying style. That's for close range, though."

She indicated the visible engines. "And these are for long range flight. They use the same superposition effect on the repulsors in conjunction with conventional jet power, so that the airstream pushed out by the jets is stronger than normal… this should give you a speed a little in excess of mach one. However, the controls for those are not directly haptic and need to be set accordingly."

Taylor chuckled.

"That does mean I could visit New York, more easily," she said. "Or Canada, for that matter…"

---

It took almost twenty minutes to fully walk through all the features Dragon had built into the Ramoth suit.

In some cases, the features were purely defensive or mostly defensive, such as a point-defence system which could identify and target incoming missiles. It was the sort of thing which Dragon readily admitted was normally difficult to justify including on any powered armour under normal circumstances, but Taylor's sheer scale and the fact that missiles were a possible danger altered the math enough that Dragon and Armsmaster had spent a few hours trying to get the emitters in place.

Other factors were more utilitarian in nature. Unwilling to give up on the benefit from Taylor's senses, most of the light that came into the visor was piped through distributed fiber-optic cables and so was completely unaltered, while the other display functions were provided by an augmented-reality display that effectively resided on top of the fiber-optic display; similarly, the muzzle of the suit would open even under circumstances when the rest of the suit was sealed, unless specifically set not to, because it would be far too bad an idea to obscure Taylor's primary weapon.

Taylor did wonder if she could breathe through a solid object and still get the full normal effect, but it sounded exactly like the sort of trick to keep quiet in case someone found out about it.

Finally, there were two other things the repulsors built into the wings could do. One of them was to pick something up at a distance, albeit that was the only thing the repulsors could do while they were maintaining the field superposition, and the other was the ability to create a more-aerodynamic fairing around her while the engines were at full thrust.

It would also mean she could carry something without the supersonic wind destroying it.

"...so, uh," Kid Win said, awkwardly, once the run-down was finished. "This is what you can get when a Tinker is actually able to concentrate on something?"

"It's been my only real project for a few days," Dragon told him. "And a lot of it was creative reuse of parts I already had for the rest of my Dragonflight – or building on your work, as it happens. I've been impressed with your work so far, Kid Win – you don't need to hold yourself to an impossible standard."

Taylor had been thinking.

"Dragon, is there anything you might need help with?" she asked. "This is quite a lot of help."

"I don't want to make building armour for a Ward conditional on some kind of quid pro quo," Dragon replied. "Getting to stretch myself on a project like this is a reward in its own right – you shouldn't feel you owe me anything."

"And I'm not saying this because of some kind of obligation," Taylor countered. "I'm grateful, but I'm not ignoring your preferences… but I'm also asking. Even if nothing happens, I think I'd like to know what your biggest problem is."

The Canadian Tinker was silent for a long moment.

"It's the Dragonslayers," she said, eventually. "They've stolen some of my suits in the past, and – you're right, I probably should have told you in the first place. Accepting one of my suits might even make you a target."

Taylor exhaled.

"By the sounds of things, being Wyrm might make me a target," she said, thinking about what she'd heard of the Dragonslayers. "Though since they target you and use your suits to commit crimes, and their leader at least is a known murderer… I know I'm still a Ward, and I shouldn't pick fights. But if the choice is between putting myself in danger and the Dragonslayers being able to still cause trouble, I know which one I'd be inclined to pick."

"I don't know how they get the upper hand over me," Dragon warned. "If you join the fight, you might just end up in a bad position as well."

"If that's a reason not to stop villains, then we shouldn't be heroes, should we?" Kid Win asked. "I know what the deal is with joining the Wards – I'm already thinking of going full Protectorate, though I guess my name kind of does need a change if I do. And… I get that you have to prioritize. But how many times have they attacked you, Dragon? Compared to how many times you've gone after them. It's obvious which one's causing the trouble here…"

---

"Can they actually call it murder if you haven't been tried for it?" Mags asked, looking up from the console feed.

Saint looked thoughtful.

"Reluctantly, I have to say they can call it that," he said. "It's not like Dragon has ever been tried, and we know what she's capable of."

"Still, I sort of hope we don't have to go up against Wyrm," Mags added. "She's just a kid… and, separately, kind of scary to contemplate fighting…"

---

"Do some people have nothing better to do?" Director Piggot asked, rubbing her forehead with thumb and forefinger.

"Apparently not," Renick replied. "Obviously Wyrm's identity isn't public knowledge, because… well, the normal reasons… but it is clear that she's a Ward and thus a teenager, and that she isn't attending school because she can't."

Piggot sighed.

"I'm just glad we managed to hide her in the shuffle with the transfers after Winslow had to reduce itself in size and move some activities off-campus," she admitted. "I don't want to think about what one of the big gangs might try and do to control Wyrm, if they knew about her family."

"Because it might work?" Renick asked, delicately.

"Ha!" Piggot barked out a laugh. "No, not in the least. It's because people might get hurt in the way she said no, and if Wyrm got into a serious fight I'd lay odds-on that the whole thing would escalate into a running battle in Brockton Bay and I am not interested in dealing with that shit."

"Fair point," Renick admitted. "But we ended up a little off topic, I think."

He checked the notes. "Fortunately, the Youth Guard aren't putting any weight behind this, so it is just a department of education official, but the fact remains that Wyrm is a minor of compulsory schooling age who isn't in school. That's not a problem we've really had to deal with here before."

Piggot muttered something.

"How do they handle Case 53s, anyway?" she asked. "It's something about doing aptitude tests to work out their pre-amnesiac age, isn't it… maybe we should have pretended Wyrm was one of those."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Renick said, dryly. "That said, I think we can probably delay her a week or two if we argue that you can't do a truancy fishing expedition, or ask her to prove Wyrm's age with official documents."

"She'd just be able to bring a press release," Piggot pointed out, thinking. "We can't homeschool her?"

"Not with a straight face," Renick replied. "At least, not in any approved homeschooling program, she's beyond that level."

Piggot made a face.

"Point taken," she admitted. "I wouldn't want to try and tell the Thinker dragon that she had to spend several hours doing approved tenth grade educational material instead of anything actually productive, without the socialization aspect or any actual educational value it would just be dead time. She'd probably do it, which is a point in her favour, but it would be a waste."

Then she paused.

"...actually," she said. "I've got an idea. I need to message Wyrm about it first, but this might solve the problem…"

---

Sharon Oakes checked the time, then opened the door to the assigned meeting room.

Even though she'd known she had a meeting with the newest and shiniest Ward in Brockton Bay, it was still something of a shock to the system to see Wyrm neatly crammed into most of the other half of the room, not far from the fire escape.

Which was, now that she thought about it, presumably how Wyrm had entered the room.

"Miss Wyrm," Sharon said, with a smile. "My name is Sharon Oakes, I'm with the state Department of Education."

"I'm aware, yes," Wyrm confirmed. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Oakes… did you have any problems on the journey."

"No, no, it was fine," Sharon replied, then put down her briefcase and opened it. "Miss Wyrm, I'm afraid that I'd like to get straight to the point – that being your education."

Wyrm nodded, slightly.

"Did you contact the Youth Guard about this?" she said.

"I did," Sharon confirmed. "And I must say, they were singularly uncooperative about the whole issue."

"Honestly, I'm not surprised," Wyrm replied. "If I may, though – I'd like to summarize what I understand to be your position."

She began ticking off points on one of her paws. "I am a minor, and specifically I am within the age range for which this state has compulsory schooling. I'm not in school, either right now or in general, and I'm also not in a state-approved homeschool program, and therefore I am breaking state law on the matter. You would like me to not be. Is that correct?"

Sharon ran back through it in her mind.

"That's a reasonable summary, yes," she confirmed. "It's especially important for minors who are publicly visible to behave appropriately."

"I wouldn't dispute that in the general case, but here the specifics override it," Wyrm replied. "The first thing to think about is – what exactly would it look like if I attended a high school?"

She half-spread her wings for emphasis, which sort of made the point because of how big they were. "I couldn't take part in most of the practical classes and I wouldn't fit in most classrooms. For the average school they'd need to either disable the fire alarm just to get me in the building, or I'd have to attend by sticking my head through the window – and the main rooms I would fit into would be gymnasiums, and I think that my involvement in any physical sport would be unfair to everyone else. So the extent to which I'd be getting normal socialization is… effectively nil, as well."

Then Wyrm shrugged. "But let's assume for now that I could meaningfully attend the theory classes, at least. There we run into a separate problem, which is that I wouldn't actually be learning anything of significance."

"I realize you're a teenager with an opportunity to avoid the boring parts of your education, Wyrm," Sharon protested. "But the subjects that are on our curriculum are all there for a reason, for developing both life skills and general knowledge. I appreciate that you don't need any career skills, but that's not the only point of schooling."

Wyrm chuckled.

"It's not a matter of the subjects," she said. "It's a matter of the level. I don't think you've dealt with many Thinkers before?"

"Evidently not," Sharon said, a little annoyed, and Wyrm tilted her head slightly.

"Mrs. Oakes," she began, not unkindly – if anything, quite pleasantly. "The main reason why I haven't got a GED is that state law doesn't permit me to, because I'm fifteen; I did the sample papers, without studying, four days after triggering and got an easily passing grade. I'm currently working through an advanced undergraduate course in politics and social theory via distance learning, and writing associated essays on the ethical use of my various powers, and I'm also working on a book project which I intend to submit as a history thesis with specializations in the economic, military and social fields – at least, once it's finished."

Sharon stared.

"...pardon?" she asked.

"Thinker," Wyrm said, as if it was an explanation. "I appreciate what you're doing, Mrs. Oakes, I really do, but – Capes are exceptions, that's just the way it is. We have to be treated on a case by case basis, because powers are individual and so are we."

After a bit more staring, Sharon blinked a few times and tried to think through how to approach this.

"You realize I'm going to need some sort of proof of that?" she asked.

"All right," Wyrm agreed, readily enough. "If you can make it possible, then I could take the GED exam despite my age? I'm sure there are other kinds of proof, but that one is the one the state considers equivalent to a high school diploma."

Sharon had the vague sense she'd just been outmanoeuvred, but she couldn't actually come up with a counter-argument.

Which was part of why.

---

Being a Ward meant running on a schedule, and one which had less free time than most teenagers. Being a dragon who was also a Ward adjusted that back in the other direction, since Taylor didn't have conventional schooling, but the other Wards only had schooling in the morning. Much of the afternoon was taken up by something related to their cape identities, whether that was working on their individual powers or their non-powered fitness, tactics or PR or general skills. That was before even factoring in the patrols, which took up irregular but sizeable chunks of time on many evenings.

And then there were the group training sessions, which helped both in building tactical combinations and also on simple socializing.

After one such latest training session, which had been heavily focused on working with Vista's space-warps in a large and open area down by the docks, Taylor was counting her equipment back into its pouches before they left… when Sophia approached her.

"...look," the other Ward began. "Can we… talk? Privately?"

Taylor glanced at Sophia, then nodded. "Sure."

She took off her headset, putting it down with her things, and paced over to the end of one of the disused docks – one of the ones that had been too unsound to put back into service just yet, as the city's docklands slowly recovered from years of de-skilling.

Sophia followed her, and then just sort of stared at her for a minute or so.

"...why?" Sophia demanded.

"Why what?" Taylor replied.

"Why haven't you-" Sophia began, then stopped, and shook her head.

Took a breath, trying to be steady.

"Why haven't you… got your revenge, yet?" Sophia asked. "You could. I know how strong you are."

"It's what I told you," Taylor answered. "Back when I'd just changed. It's that you need help. There was something twisted up inside you that meant you were willing to hurt me the way you did."

She frowned, thinking about what she knew about Sophia.

"Why do you think I should have got revenge?" she asked.

"Because – because you're stronger," Sophia replied. "And because I – hurt you, I bullied you, I messed with you for months to try and get a rise out of you and then I just beat it out of you again, and that was because I could. Because I was stronger. And now you're stronger, and…"

Her voice trailed off.

"So whoever is stronger should bully whoever is weaker?" Taylor asked.

Sophia didn't say anything.

"I want to understand the way you think about this," Taylor added. "I know you've been seeing a therapist. Has that helped?"

"It's made me feel fucking awful," Sophia answered, bitterly. "Is that your revenge?"

"No," Taylor replied. "It's… hmm."

She flicked her tail in the water, idly.

"Let's say I have the power to get revenge on you," she said. "To properly defeat you, and make it so you know that's happened. Let's also say that I want to do that. That I'd feel better, that it's what I would really want to do, that it would satisfy me and make me feel good about myself and about what I've done."

Taylor glanced up at Sophia, to make sure she was not just listening but paying attention.

"Would I have to do it?" she asked.

Sophia frowned, looking like she almost understood the question but that there was something she was missing.

"...you'd do it, wouldn't you?" she asked. "If you wanted to – and – that's what I don't understand! Because I'd understand a fight! And – and because you're terrifying and I don't know what to think about it, and, and I feel like I fell in love with you and I don't know what to think about that either and-"

Sophia halted, panting, and Taylor shook her head slightly.

"If I had to do it," she said. "Then that would be because I wasn't the one in control. I can decide that something I want to do is not a good idea, because I don't think the results of it are good."

She leaned back a little.

"I did want you to get your comeuppance for what happened to me," she told her fellow Ward. "But I also want you to become a better person. I want Emma to become a better person. And… because the main person you hurt is me, and I'm the one who can make important decisions about that – and I think it's more important that you change and become a better person than that I get my revenge. I'm willing to give up on my revenge, and forgive you, if you put in the effort to try and change… and, by doing that, I show that I'm stronger than the part of me that wants to hurt people for my own satisfaction."

Sophia actually staggered back a step.

"...the fuck," she said. "Stronger than… but…"

Taylor held her peace, watching as Sophia worked through the implications.

Because she'd thrown down a gauntlet, delicately and obliquely. She'd reframed the whole issue that Sophia was struggling with, in a way that meant that Sophia's own self-destructive mindset that saw people as predator or prey was… turned against itself.

Sophia could continue to believe in predator and prey, strong and weak, and she would have to process the fact that she qualified as weak relative to Taylor and that there was nothing she could really do to fix that. And the way that Taylor had shown her mercy was fundamentally discordant to that view of the world.

It was too difficult to process properly. Taylor was far too strong to just dismiss, and that was something that would give Sophia a great deal of trouble with accepting.

Or, alternatively, Sophia could accept Taylor's definition of strength and weakness, one which did not rely on predator and prey but which relied on strength of character. On being able to get past the more simplistic definitions that Sophia had used.

Taylor was… quite confident in which one Sophia would accept.

"Think about it," she said. "And understand this, Sophia… I can make this decision about forgiveness, because I'm the one you hurt and because I think there's a better outcome. That wouldn't apply if you'd hurt someone else, or if I thought there wasn't a chance."

She made eye contact, to be sure Sophia was paying attention. "You are not owed forgiveness from anybody… but it's something you can earn, if you can be sincere about how you try."

"R...right," Sophia said, sounding like she had no idea what to think or say.

Taylor nodded, then paced back over to pick up her gear.

It seemed like it had been a productive talk.

---

"How certain are you?" Kenta asked.

"Not certain, Lung," one of his subordinates replied. "These things cannot be… clearly communicated. It is more of a feeling."

"Then explain why you have the feeling," Kenta requested, a touch more firmly.

The man nodded.

"My men have been moving into the Blue Point neighbourhood for the last few weeks," he began. "The local shopkeepers didn't think they needed protection, and we… disabused them of that."

Kenta made a very slight gesture – get on with it.

He knew how this whole thing worked, and euphemisms did not need to be used here. Everyone here was sworn to him.

"We didn't see any Empire tags when we moved in," the ganger went on. "So we put up our own… and, after we did, Empire tags began to appear. Some of the shopkeepers missed their payments, and explained that they'd been threatened by skinheads. There have been some fist fights, occasional fights with weapons. And last night there was an exchange of gunfire."

"Did your men start it?" Kenta asked.

The man stood straight-backed. "I do not know," he admitted. "Two men could have started it. One of them is dead, shot in the head, and the other is in hospital."

"Did any of them die?" Kenta pressed, thinking about the possibility of interrogating the survivor.

The man shrugged. "My apologies, Lung. I do not know. There was blood, but no bodies. I know at least one of them was shot, but if he was shot fatally then they removed his body from the scene. We did the same with our casualty."

That left things frustratingly vague, but it was… consistent, with what the man had suggested.

And he was one of Lung's better managers, as well. That was exactly why he was tasked with taking over new territory. So it was unlikely he was jumping at shadows, and more unlikely that he was simply trying to cover for a mistake.

It seemed that the Empire also wanted the Blue Point neighbourhood.

"You plan to return?" he asked.

"This evening," the man confirmed. "We could avoid it if you wish, Lung."

"No," Kenta replied. "If we back down here, the Empire will decide it can push us elsewhere."

He considered, then nodded. "I will be attending. We'll see exactly how much the Empire wants Blue Point."

---

"Hey, Wyrm, you don't have much trouble flying slow, right?" Kid Win checked.

"I can hover," Taylor replied. "It's not a problem. And if you're wondering about how fast I tire… not fast."

"Kind of wish I had something like that," Kid Win admitted. "Are you able to give me any idea?"

"I've done some tests," Taylor answered. "I did a flat-out sprint on a treadmill, it took me about four minutes before I had to slow down, but my healing breath works on muscle fatigue so I can just jog all day."

Kid Win whistled. "Wow," he said. "Somehow the fact you do that with muscles makes it sound more broken than Aegis, he just floats and that's all there is to it."

He leaned forwards slightly on his board. "Though… now I'm thinking of it, you are going to warn me if I'm about to run smack into something, right? I know you can see at night way better than I can."

"I know you've got light amplification on your goggles," Taylor replied, with a chuckle.

Kid Win was getting at something, though. Even though they were now well into February, it still got dark by the time their patrol ended – it wasn't even six PM and the sun had set about an hour ago, and most of the remaining light was gone from the sky.

At least it wasn't raining. Taylor didn't mind the rain, not really, but it would make her teammate a bit more miserable.

"Console to Wyrm and Kid Win," Triumph's voice came through her earpiece. "This is your five fifty checkup. Everything going okay up there?"

"We read you, Console," Kid Win replied, his voice coming through the air and also over the earpiece – they were close enough together that only Taylor's enhanced senses really caught the double-sound ripple effect. "Everything's fine up here. I don't suppose you've got the sports scores?"

"You don't even like sport," Triumph pointed out.

"Darn, you're right," Kid Win said. "Yeah, everything's okay here. Just admiring the cold air."

"No sign of trouble right now," Taylor agreed. "What's the occasion?"

"I've not got much longer to be all Wards leader at you," Triumph said. "That's what's going on."

"Right-" Taylor said, then her head snapped around at the sound of a gunshot. Then several more.

It was the work of a moment for her to pinpoint where the gunfire was coming from, and the single shots escalated quickly into a few bursts of automatic fire which meant she had both the sound and the flashes to work from. It was about four hundred feet away from their position along the ground, more vertically, and Taylor could see bystanders running for cover.

"Console, we've got shots fired," Kid Win said, as Taylor banked. "At, uh-"

"Near the fish restaurant on McKean avenue, in Blue Point," Taylor provided, thinking about the map of the city she'd done her best to memorize and reading one of the larger advertising signs. "Several assault weapons, some kind of gang fight."

"Console copies," Triumph replied, all business now. "Stand by."

A moment later, there was the sound of steel sliding across itself, and a snarling shape of blades that had to be Hookwolf charged across the parking lot of an apartment building towards one of the sources of gunfire. He got about halfway, then a jet of flame came out of the rough area of his target and exploded against the shoulder of his wolflike Changer form.

The explosion knocked him aside, and three assault rifles opened up at full rate. Then the other side of the gunfight got involved as well, and their bullets were at an angle that meant their backstop was the occupied restaurant.

"Cape fight!" Kid Win said. "Console, we can see Hookwolf and I think that's Lung! This is a fucking disaster!"

Taylor beat her wings one more time, then folded them into a dive.

---

There were at least three moving parts to this fight, perhaps more, and that meant prioritization. And with two of those moving parts involving groups firing weapons at one another, the highest priority was making sure that none of those bullets could end up hitting bystanders… and since Taylor had to pick between two groups some distance apart, she selected the one that was firing towards the restaurant.

Gold-blue flames seethed out of her muzzle as she flared her wings, slowing from a dive to a gentle touchdown in a whoosh of air, and the whole group of shooters were within the fifty-foot-wide ellipse of her flame's ground footprint.

Taylor had tuned her breath precisely to fit the situation, disintegrating weapons and stunning humans, and the whole group of what were presumably Empire goons went over at once, but that was only the start of what was going on. Because she'd inserted herself dramatically into a situation where there were a lot of stressed-out people firing guns, and the main body of Empire gangers weren't the only Empire gangers.

So now everyone who had a gun was shooting it at her.

Pistols and assault rifles rattled and snapped, firing in her direction, and Taylor furled her wings to keep them out of the line of fire. They were the hardest bit of her to armour and the hardest to protect, and some of the heavier rounds punched right through her wing sails before she got them out of the way, while lighter rounds thumped into her mail armour or the plates built into it and heavier rounds impacted with a sprang.

The full metal jackets on some of the bullets flying in her direction meant they had a good chance of penetrating her mail, if they got the angle right, and Taylor winced as she felt the dull ache of bruising become accompanied by the sharper jab where a bullet had managed to hit her and penetrate into her hide.

She could see a lot of the bullets coming, but there were too many to dodge, and besides that there was a reason why she'd landed where she had. Because from all the remaining shooters who were firing at her, the backstop for their gunfire was either the blank wall of an old, stone-built apartment building or a hill which had been too steep to level and had ended up as a small local park.

It hurt, to be shot at. But anyone else would have suffered worse, and bullets fired up would come down at still-dangerous speeds.

And the Empire goons were out cold on a battlefield, because of something she'd done. There were responsibilites.

"Wyrm, report!" Triumph called.

"She's being shot at – a lot!" Kid Win said.

"I'm fine," Taylor reported, quickly.

Then Taylor saw a brighter flash, and dodged out of the way as what was probably a high powered hunting rifle or sniper rifle bullet went past.

Hookwolf and Lung still seemed mostly occupied with each other, right now, moving off down the street as Hookwolf tried to cut Lung in half and Lung threw fire, dodging and ramping up, and the warm feeling of power in Taylor's breast had come back – so she opened her muzzle and began to breathe fire again, this time rolling her neck in a kind of spray that covered all the directions that she was being shot at from.

She could keep this up for several minutes, until she needed to take a breath again, but that wasn't why she was doing it. She was doing it because now the bullets flying at her from the main ABB position were being destroyed, burned up by the golden-blue fire of her breath, and that gave her cover.

And there was another reason, as well.

Taylor held a forepaw in the jet of flame, keeping it there for a few seconds. and the bruises and other injuries vanished in a warm pulse of comfort – like deep-heat cream, perhaps, or the feeling of walking past a heater on a cold day.

Smaller jets of blue light flashed out from her muzzle, turned through lazy arcs, and flew unerringly at each of the groups of gangers who weren't in the main ABB position, knocking them out and reducing the complexity of the tactical problem, then Taylor charged forwards.

More gunfire sounded, trails of sparks and smoke showing where the bullets had dissolved, then Taylor swept her breath across the ABB position and stunned them as well.

"Wyrm, this is Console!" Triumph called. "Assistance is a few minutes out! What's going on?"

"All the unpowered gangers are out cold," Taylor replied, looking around to confirm that. "Lung and Hookwolf are still at large."

"All of them?" Triumph repeated. "Damn. But if Hookwolf and Lung are both still around then there's still a lot of danger. Where are they?"

"Some way down McKean Avenue," Kid Win said, floating down to about her height as he spoke, and Taylor got the double-voice effect again. "Last I saw, anyway."

"I can try and track them down?" Taylor volunteered.

"Don't try and pick any more fights, goddamn," Triumph muttered. "Okay, Velocity got word, he's some way out but should be with you in a minute or two. Assault in four along with a PRT team, he's coming with them."

"Copy that," Taylor agreed, then raised her voice. "Is anyone injured? I can smell there's some blood but I'm not sure who it's coming from."

Now that the gunfire was over, someone came out of the restaurant, cradling his arm.

It looked like a mess. It was hanging at an awkward angle, and there was a lot of blood.

"You're that new Ward, right?" he asked, sounding a bit loopy – shock, Taylor guessed. "I got hit when the shooting started…"

"That's me," Taylor agreed. "Do I have permission to heal you?"

The man nodded, slightly, his breath shallow, and Taylor blew a wisp of her blue-gold flame over him.

There was a kind of crunch as the bones reformed and realigned, which set Taylor's teeth on edge – then the man was staring at his arm.

"It's… it's fine," he said, moving it. "I… sorry I sound so surprised, you did say you were going to heal me, but – but I didn't expect it to be so fast."

"All part of the service," Kid Win said. "...I guess? I don't know if it normally is, but it is this time."

"Thank you," the man told Taylor, fervently, and the rest of the restaurant broke into spontaneous applause.

Taylor smiled, then stepped back, and immediately caught sight of a problem.

"Kid – that fire looks new," she said, nodding along McKean Avenue. "Where are Hookwolf and Lung?"

"Checking now," Kid Win replied, kicking his board back up into the air.

"Stay down," Taylor told the restaurant patrons. She unfurled her wings, ready to take off again, but before she was ready a lupine collection of blades came charging towards her.

"Golden BITCH!" Hookwolf shouted, the swords and other edges making up his form scraping along the asphalt, and Taylor thought quickly.

The angles were wrong.

If Taylor hit him with her breath and he didn't just go straight down, he'd hit her – and if she got out of the way of that, then he'd end up in the restaurant instead, and there were still too many people there who needed to be kept safe.

Instead, Taylor shifted her weight slightly, took aim, and hit Hookwolf with her tail. The tip cracked as she swung it around, then she made contact, and the CRASH of the impact echoed off the walls as she bent several of Hookwolf's blades into banana shapes and sent him flying over a parked car.

"Holy shit," Kid Win breathed.

There was an unmusical clatter as Hookwolf hit the ground on the far side, and Taylor herself was already moving. She'd aimed to knock Hookwolf to somewhere he wouldn't just land on top of one of the ABB gangers, and as she leapt over the car herself it looked like none of Hookwolf's blades had gone anywhere important, but he was still moving – so she pounced on him, hitting him with both forepaws followed by a focused blast of her breath to stun him and knock him out of the fight.

It looked like it had worked – he was even starting to transform back – and Taylor took two long steps, pacing forwards to see if her guess about the last other cape was right.

Sure enough, Lung was there. He'd ramped up a good way during the fight with Hookwolf, and was now about eight feet tall and covered in greyish metallic scales, with heat rippling around him.

"Dragon," he said.

"Wyrm," Taylor corrected. "Lung, you should stand down – this isn't a fight that has to happen."

Lung's eyes twitched.

"I won't back down," he insisted. "I won't surrender. Don't think I will. Those fools challenged me, and they will pay."

"Velocity's arriving soon!" Triumph reported, through Taylor's earpiece. "If you can, try and stall him or something?"

Lung shifted, and Taylor suspected he'd heard Triumph – then he lunged forwards, lashing out with his claws.

Some of the more bullet-damaged sections of Taylor's armour gave way where the slash put strain on already-strained rings, cutting some of them and bursting others, and a series of shallow cuts flared along Taylor's chest – then she retaliated with her wings and claws and tail, knocking Lung away and sending him rolling across the car park before he slid back to an upright position and hurled flame at her.

The flame splashed off her, utterly unable to get purchase, but he was still getting bigger – and he was already able to hurt her with his claws.

There was only one solution – knock him out before he could ramp up any further.

Taylor focused, reaching for the warm heat of her energy projection power, then Lung charged… and Taylor drew on her power as heavily as she dared.

As heavily as she could.

She exhaled, her normal golden-blue breath focused and condensed down into a kind of spear of intense blue-gold-white light, and three narrower spikes rippled out of her muzzle at the same time. The whole concentrated, focused blast of light hit Lung at once, full-on, with all the power she could muster.

Later testing and calculations would determine that, if used for materiel destruction, the jet would have gone through an Iowa-class battleship's main armour – and out the other side of the ship.

When the flash faded, Lung was face-down on the ground, unconscious – and already beginning to revert.

Taylor panted, then waved as Velocity sped to a halt next to her.

"Sir," she said. "I think the situation's under control."

---

Max Anders picked up his phone.

"Max," he said.

Paused.

"Brad did what?"

---

"This isn't a trial," Miss Militia said, helpfully. "It's a debrief."

"I understand," Taylor replied, with a nod. "Things got violent, and you want to look over what happened."

"Exactly," Piggot told her. "This isn't going to be the only meeting that results from this, either – we're a federal agency, and that means paperwork. And that's a good thing, because the alternative is the serious decisions involved here go unsupervised."

Taylor nodded again, and Miss Militia flashed her a smile.

"For obvious reasons, we're going to focus on the things that went wrong," Piggot added. "We will cover everything we can in this meeting, and I've got some reports from analysts to go over, but firstly I want to hear what you think you might have done wrong."

That was a tricky question to be asked, straight away, and Taylor gave it some careful thought.

"Firstly, there's the question about whether I should have engaged," she said. "And, separately, whether I should have accepted the engagement that first Hookwolf and then Lung courted. In both of the latter cases the situation emerged around me… but I could also have focused instead on chasing them down and stunning them rather than my actual priority."

She glanced down. "And, tactically, there's… I think the main mistake I made was that I should have used my continuous breath more. I was too focused on knocking out the first group and making sure that gunfire was focused away from the restaurant, but if I'd used my flame breath in a continuous stream instead of that initial burst then I wouldn't have been shot."

"Not a bad summary," Piggot allowed. "Anything else?"

"Tactical coordination," Taylor said. "I did everything, but that's because I was doing everything and I wasn't thinking through coordinating with Kid Win. If I'd considered that, he could have given me more warning of Hookwolf's approach and kept civilians out of the line of fire."

"I wondered if you'd catch that," Miss Militia mused. "It seems to be common with capes… we're prone to try and wade in to solve problems ourselves. One of the hardest lessons to learn is when you're not the best person to try and solve a problem."

She made a note. "What drove your decision to engage? I know you mentioned that as something you might have done wrong."

"That's because I thought I might have done something wrong," Taylor explained. "I still think I did the right thing, though – my concern was the shooting going on with a populated building as a backstop. I picked my original target and landing point to minimize or remove that issue."

"Can we bring up the map?" Piggot requested, and after a few seconds the projector showed a diagram of the engagement – marking the points where the two gangs had had their main groups of shooters, the ABB sniper, the movements of the various capes, and other details of the engagement.

She looked at it, frowning, then nodded slightly.

"I can see where you were coming from," she said. "We'll discuss that later in more detail… to be clear, you engaged instead of waiting for backup because you felt it was the best way to minimize harm?"

"I'm a Ward," Taylor pointed out, quietly but firmly. "And I know all of what that means. I'm a superhero. I'm not an adult superhero… but I am also quite large and very heavily armoured, and quite frankly a hundred bullets shot at me is probably safer than a dozen shot at an occupied restaurant. Even heavy rounds like that – they're the ones that can actually hurt me, but they're also ones that can go through most cover in a restaurant."

She flexed her wings. "And if it was as dangerous for me to be there as the civilians… I'm still a superhero. I get money to do this, I want to do this, and it was my choice to."

"She's not wrong," Miss Militia said.

"No, she's not," Piggot agreed. "I'd rather have that attitude than some right… and it's quite clear that it was your decision to engage, which will hopefully prevent us from getting in too much trouble with the Youth Guard."

"Short of keeping Wards from going out and being capes at all, it's not really possible to keep us from being in dangerous situations," Taylor said. "And – I have the power to do a lot, so I feel a responsibility to use that power to minimize harm."

"That actually brings us to the question of appropriate use of force," Miss Militia said. "That's on the list."

"Agreed," Piggot nodded. "Do you have any comment on that, before we go into detail on it?"

"I could have killed them," Taylor said. "I don't mean that the actions I took could have killed them, I mean that the strength of my breath weapon means that I could have disintegrated both Hookwolf and Lung. And – all the other gang members, as well. But I didn't, because… it's the same thing. I have the strength to make that a choice."

She spread a paw. "I don't know if either Hookwolf or Lung will go on to harm more people, now. That's… something that's outside my responsibility. But if I'd used more force than I did, then it would have been my choice to close off any possibility of them getting better – and it would have been something I'd have to live with."

Miss Militia coughed.

"We were actually considering the question of if you'd used excessive force, rather than if you'd used insufficient force," she said, sounding faintly amused. "Granted, they were shooting you and it's generally speaking so open-and-shut that it's just a case of having to have the conversation for those bureaucratic reasons we discussed, but you did hit Lung so hard he hasn't woken up yet and half the gangsters are also still unconscious."

"I can heal them, if that would help?" Taylor offered. "Testing has shown that my healing breath reverses my stun powers faster than the targets recover on their own…"

---

"...a positive is, we don't need to replace the whole of the armour," Armsmaster said, later that afternoon, as he and Taylor looked at her rather battered armour.

Several of the plates were dented, and the damage to the rings left the armour hanging poorly – even on the dragon-sized suspension harness used to keep it in place while it was worked on.

Even a single busted ring meant that the smooth lines of the metal-ring 'fabric' were disrupted, and there were a lot of busted or damaged rings as a result of the heavy gunfire.

"Unfortunately, it's going to take some time to work in the new rings," he went on. "I estimate about ten hours of it being my only focus to do the rings, and a further four to complete the process of forging new hard plates, which means it won't be available until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is sooner than I'd expected," Taylor replied. "I know how much work mail is to make and repair – I'm surprised you got it finished so quickly originally."

"I designed a tool for the purpose," Armsmaster replied, showing it. "This is able to separate or join the connection rings without the need of a forge. Much of the delay is going to be identifying which rings need replacement and which do not, because the visible damage might not be all the damage."

Taylor looked at the mail, then shook her head.

"It's strange," she said. "I really feel like I should apologize for the damage."

"The armour did its job," Dragon told her, from her telepresence laptop. "Armour is there to get in the way of attacks that would otherwise harm you, or to reduce the harm from attacks that do get through."

"I know that much," Taylor said. "At the same time, though… I'm proud of how it looks, as well. So I feel a bit like the armour did exactly what it was supposed to, and a bit like I took a work of art into a dangerous place and got it damaged."

She shook her head. "It's… I have some pre-Trigger trauma related to that. I'll probably need to talk to someone about it."

"Understood," Armsmaster said. "I also wished to discuss some possible refinements – on a purely hypothetical basis, do you think a form of living armour would be worth looking into? Your healing breath might be able to restore damage in the field."

"I think the image problem might be too significant," Taylor replied. "I understand the idea, but I don't think it's worth the time it would take to test – even if it worked, it's an appearance thing…"

---

While she was mostly stuck inside while the post-incident bureaucracy grind took place – for more than one reason – Taylor still had the time to keep up with her reading, and projects, and that helped keep her from feeling too put out by the semi-seclusion.

In particular, she was able to get a sense of how the public had reacted to her first big fight.

The overall outcome seemed to be… quite good, really. There was some security camera footage of the fight, and someone in the restaurant had recorded the Hookwolf bit on their phone, and between those things and the various statements the picture of what had happened was fairly accurate. And the public of Brockton Bay, and elsewhere in the US and wider world where they took notice, was… broadly approving.

The Versus forum on PHO in particular had gone absolutely bananas, which was sort of gratifying.

But more than the idea of how strong she was, something that Taylor thought was nice to see was that people were talking about her actions and what they said – and meant.

While there'd been some discussion about whether she was Manton limited so she couldn't actually harm anyone with her breath, the fact she'd punted Hookwolf over a car had been a pretty solid indicator that she could have done serious damage if she'd wanted.

And it was that, in particular, that was… nice.

Taylor was still thinking about the kind of public statement she might want to make about what had happened, perhaps after her armour was properly repaired, or just as a public post on PHO. About how to get across the right idea, about how the purpose of justice was to keep people safe, including the perpetrator and the victim… and how redemption solved problems more completely than any other form of justice, if it could be done.

...without potentially insulting large amounts of the PHO, Protectorate, or even pre-Parahuman state and federal law enforcement.

It was difficult, but if it was easy it would already have been done.

---

"So… what do we even do about Wyrm?" David asked.

"That carries some pretty significant assumptions, doesn't it?" Keith replied. "Like that there's something we should be doing about her."

"Even doing nothing is a decision," Doctor Mother pointed out. "But, yes, we don't want to end up assuming that we have to do something."

She glanced up. "I assume she's been on your mind?"

"She's… well," David began. "I keep going back to that question about our mission. About the things we're trying to do. We're looking for… for a way to defeat Scion, obviously. But we've got those other plans in place…"

He shrugged. "I guess I just think she's been particularly notable recently and so I'm thinking about her. She's not an average Ward."

"No, that's true," Doctor Mother agreed. "Rebecca?"

Rebecca frowned, clearly going back over her memories of the reports on Wyrm's actions and capabilities.

"You're right that she's powerful," she said. "There's something particularly odd about her breath power, the way it deals with opposition… it seems odd, I suppose, is the best way I can put it."

"That's helpful," David chuckled. "Anything more than odd?"

He glanced over at the Doctor. "She's a natural trigger, right? Not one of ours? She seems stuck in that form."

"Natural, correct," Doctor Mother agreed. "Which… maybe that's what you're thinking of, Rebecca. She doesn't seem to have much in the way of a Manton limit."

"That is strange," David conceded. "Though she's not the only one who has a very powerful natural trigger without anything that really limits her. Lung's from the same city and dragon themed as well… is there an association there?"

Doctor Mother glanced at Rebecca, then continued. "I don't think so," she said. "There's distance concerns and we do know who her father is… but Lung's weakness is that he has to ramp up."

She took a note. "It's unusual, but no more than that. There's a sense in which powers are balanced in some way, or at least the powerful ones tend to have a kind of tradeoff… that's the sort of thing that the people around this table would disprove for most people, but we have more information than that. I might need to take it to Kurt later, see if he has a model for it."

"Hmm," Rebecca said. "Something that's just occurred to me… it's her behaviour with Hess, that's what's been bothering me."

"Hess… Shadow Stalker?" Keith asked. "I did look into that briefly, but I saw it was considered to be under control and that Wyrm had declined to press charges."

"Correct," Rebecca confirmed, with a nod. "But I think we actually missed the significance of that on a first pass. How much do you know about her trigger event?"

"I know Hess is involved, though I'm not sure that her extremely potent Changer power relates to that," Keith answered, with a frown. "Isn't it more normal for other capes to cause Trump powers, rather than Changer ones?"

He chuckled. "Though it's not exactly reliable."

"No, it's not that," Rebecca replied. "To put it bluntly – based on what I've been able to work out, Wyrm was shut up in a locker by Hess for hours before finally triggering and bursting out of the locker. And her first action was to find Hess and her accomplices, and tell them to get mental help – and that she forgave them."

Keith blinked.

"That makes her a really understanding person," he said.

"It makes her a massive anomaly," Kurt noted, from the door. "David, Rebecca, Keith – the three of you are vial capes, I don't think you realize just how impactful the trigger event is."

"How long have you been listening?" David asked.

"Long enough," Kurt replied. "I've been thinking about that model you mentioned, Doctor… I think you're missing a variable, which is that if you view natural capes then there's a general multivariate analysis relating to their power, limits and versatility. Capes at the high end in terms of power and versatility, and who have relatively loose limits on what their power can do, tend to be more anti-social. More violent, more prone to lashing out, or simply less able to integrate properly into society."

All three Triumvirate members frowned, then nodded nearly in unison.

"That tracks with what I've seen," Keith agreed. "Knowing who's a vial cape and who isn't… even among the Protectorate, there are some obvious signs. Armsmaster is a potent Cape but the man can be difficult to deal with… how much of that is general trigger related stress and trauma, though?"

"Difficult to say," Kurt answered, taking a seat. "However, Wyrm is a clear anomaly on the chart. She is several standard deviations outside normal expectations – put bluntly I would normally expect a cape of her level of power to be… well… not acting the way she has been."

Doctor Mother frowned.

"Secondary power effect?" she asked.

"It's possible," Kurt allowed. "However, note that I said that this applied to natural capes. Vial capes are different – Wyrm would still be an anomaly, but not entirely outside the dataset."

He smiled, slightly. "In fact, she'd be somewhere around yourself, Keith. Exactly where is difficult to determine, but there is that comparison."

"That is strange," David muttered.

There was a general silence for several seconds as they digested that.

"Serious question," Keith began, interrupting the general level of contemplation. "Do we want to start considering her for a leadership role?"

"That's quite a decision to be thinking about this early, isn't it?" Rebecca asked. "She triggered less than two months ago and she's going to be a Ward for years, yet."

"Kurt said it himself," Keith replied. "Or, he said something that made me think that way. So far as we can tell, Wyrm is uncommonly sensible for a natural cape of her power."

He sighed. "It's damn hard to get that level of power from a Vial cape, I'll point out. I'm not saying we should be thinking about succession planning, or anything – I certainly intend to be around for a while – but she's an anomaly – and one in a positive direction. If she ends up as someone we'd welcome into the Triumvirate in five years, we need to start thinking about it now."

Doctor Mother nodded.

"Fair point," she said. "All right… we won't come to a decision about this today, naturally. But it's something to think about."

---

AN:

---

So yes, more Gold Dragon Taylor.

She's not a Great Wyrm, but she's a good one.