Taylor sat cross-legged on her bed in the Wards' quarters, the soft green glow of her illusions flickering around her fingers. Her face was calm, composed, but her mind raced with ideas. She wasn't going to lash out blindly—that wasn't her style. She was better than Sophia, better than all of them. No, if Sophia Hess was going to pay for what she'd done, it wouldn't be with a single blow. It would be with a thousand small cuts.

"Petty revenge isn't satisfying," Taylor muttered to herself, conjuring an image of Sophia in her Shadow Stalker costume. The illusion hovered in the air before her, a perfect, glowing replica. "But tearing down her life piece by piece? Now that's worth doing right."

The first step was obvious. The first step of any plan: gather information. Sophia's weaknesses, her relationships, her secrets—everything she used to hold herself together. Taylor snapped her fingers, and the illusion shifted, showing Sophia's face instead. "Let's see… Popular with the team? Doubt it. Too arrogant to make friends who don't kiss her boots. Bet she doesn't trust anyone enough to be close. But you're only as strong as the lies holding you up."

Taylor let out a slow breath, her expression sharpening like a dagger. She didn't just want to expose Sophia as a bully and a fraud. She wanted to isolate her, to make her unravel in front of everyone who thought they knew her.

The trick was patience.

The same patience those hyenas had shown in wearing her down and preparing her for the locker. Months. Those absolute animals, those black holes in human form, had waited months. Why couldn't she do the same?

She could do it better.

She was better.

—

Taylor started small. She walked into the Wards' common area with a casual air. No illusions, no use of her powers—for now. She'd spent the night at headquarters, though that wasn't a daily thing. It had been suggested by Miss Militia to help her adjust quickly. Sophia sat in her usual spot, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Morning, team," Taylor said brightly, earning a few grunts of acknowledgment from the others. She focused her attention on Sophia, tilting her head slightly. "Shadow Stalker, you look… tense. Something on your mind?"

It wasn't a school day. Otherwise, they'd all (well, besides Sophia) be at Arcadia right now, her included. Dad had made that clear—it was one of his conditions for letting her join the Wards. He wanted her transferred, to never spend another second at Winslow.

In another life, Taylor would've rejoiced.

Now, truthfully, she couldn't care less.

People were the same everywhere—they sought the same things and tore others down for the same reasons. Escaping Winslow meant nothing. Fewer drug addicts, more pretentious bitches in innocent schoolgirl skirts who probably did drugs in secret anyway. That was all.

Sophia's glare flicked to her, sharp as a knife. "I'm fine."

"Hmm," Taylor replied. She waved a hand subtly, conjuring a tiny, nearly invisible illusion just behind Sophia—a dark, distorted figure looming in the corner of the room. Just enough for Sophia to catch out of the corner of her eye.

Sophia, and no one else. She wasn't stupid. There was no chance of getting caught. If there had been, she wouldn't have risked it.

Sophia turned sharply, her eyes narrowing at the empty corner.

"What's up?" Clockblocker asked, noticing her movement.

"Nothing," Sophia snapped, shaking her head. "Just thought I saw… something."

What you deserve, Taylor thought. By the end of this, you'll be seeing me in your periphery for the rest of your miserable life, Sophia.

Killing you would be too easy. I won't let you die.

I'll just make you wish you could.

—

Over the next week, Taylor stayed close to a different teammate during each meeting, choosing her words wisely. It wasn't hard—they were all just teenagers, after all. Occasionally risking their lives didn't make them adults. If anything, it might've done the opposite.

Wear them down.

They didn't have proper defenses. For example, it wasn't hard to figure out what to focus on with Vista. In a desperate—and frankly adorable—effort to be taken seriously as a full member of the team and not just "little Missy," Vista saw herself as a soldier. She cared about the team more than anyone. She was proud of her scars, as Taylor had noticed in the shower.

"Don't you think she's a bit… distant? Like she doesn't really care about the rest of us?"

Vista frowned, then slowly nodded.

With Clockblocker, Taylor focused on Sophia's humor. "You ever notice how Shadow Stalker doesn't joke around with us? Almost like she thinks she's better than everyone else."

Clockblocker laughed. "She's definitely got a stick up her ass. But, yeah, now that you mention it…"

"She laughs and jokes sometimes. But it's only ever when she's mocking someone. Tell me I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not being charitable."

"No one likes her," Kid Win interjected. "We just have to tolerate her."

And so it went with every member of the team.

Planting seeds.

It wasn't even much work. Sophia had done most of the heavy lifting. Still, it was easy to ignore the elephant in the room for the sake of surviving day-to-day. Taylor was the fresh pair of eyes here.

Sometimes that's all it took to realize how messed up things really were.

—

Sophia spun toward the sound, her body tense. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice tight.

They were on a routine patrol.

Either ignoring the situation with Sophia or trying to force a resolution, the higher-ups had paired Taylor with her and thrown poor Vista into the mix. Who knew what Vista had done to deserve that. Though, to be fair, there hadn't been any issues. Until now, of course.

"Hear what?" Vista asked, frowning.

Taylor glanced toward the alley. "I don't see anything. You okay, Shadow Stalker?"

Sophia scowled, her hands clenched into fists. "I'm fine. Let's keep moving."

Of course, that wasn't the end of it.

Taylor kept the illusions coming—just enough to keep Sophia on edge, her head snapping toward shadows that weren't there and laughter only she could hear. By the time they returned to base, Sophia was visibly agitated…

Well, more than usual.

—

As Taylor prepared to head home, there was a sharp knock on her door. She opened it to find Sophia standing there. Her expression told Taylor nothing she didn't already know.

"What's your problem?" Sophia demanded, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Problem? I don't know what you're talking about."

Do you really need to ask? she thought. What a shameless bitch. As if you have amnesia.

"Don't play dumb," Sophia snapped. "You've been messing with me. I don't know how, but I know it's you. Get over your bullshit, Taylor. I don't know why you're complaining. You came out new and improved from everything I did. Now you have powers, some backbone, you're a superhero. What more do you want? I took a scared little bookworm and fixed you."

Taylor's smile was icy.

"No wonder people think you're… unstable."

Sophia's eyes narrowed, but Taylor could see the flicker of doubt behind her anger.

"Are you done blaming me for your own shortcomings? Because I was about to go home and get you out of my sight. Seeing your face too many hours a day makes me sick."

She closed the door in Sophia's face before the other girl could respond.

Leaning back against the door, Taylor allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

She had her in the palm of her hand. And Sophia was crumbling.

—

The Wards were suited up and waiting in the briefing room as Armsmaster went over mission details. A gang war had erupted between the ABB and the Merchants at the docks, threatening civilians and attracting villains looking for easy spoils.

A minor teenage supervillain group called the Undersiders had taken down Lung, indirectly aiding his arrest. Of course, this created a power vacuum, and chaos erupted. The ABB and Merchants fought to expand their territories while the Azn Bad Boys tore themselves apart. Apparently, one of the Undersiders had died in the fight. Sophia had seemed happy to hear the news, but that wasn't much of a clue. That black hole of a human being loved other people's misery.

It was supposed to be a straightforward operation: contain the violence, evacuate civilians, and provide backup for Protectorate capes if needed.

Taylor sat at the edge of the room, arms crossed, her green horns gleaming under fluorescent lights. She only half-listened to Armsmaster; her focus was elsewhere. The knight in shining armor wasn't the only one with grand plans—hers were far more important. And personal.

"Vista, you'll handle crowd control and containment," Armsmaster said, his voice clipped. "Shadow Stalker, you're on reconnaissance. Your mobility will let you get into tight spaces and identify civilians in danger."

Sophia nodded, her jaw tight. She hadn't spoken to Taylor since their confrontation, but Taylor had caught her stealing glances, paranoia simmering under the surface.

"Loki, Clockblocker, Aegis, and Kid Win will handle the front line," Armsmaster continued. "Engage any hostiles and buy time for evacuation. Questions?"

Yes. What exactly qualifies me for the front line with my kind of powers?

I deceive, I strike from behind, I…

Bully tactics. The irony wasn't lost on her.

—

The docks were chaos. Shouts, the crackle of powers, and the distant sound of explosions echoed through the air as the Wards spread out across the battlefield. Smoke and the stink of saltwater mixed in the air, and panicked civilians ran in all directions.

Taylor crouched behind a shipping container, her fingers glowing as she conjured an illusion. A dozen green-cloaked figures shimmered into existence around her, each one sprinting off in a different direction. ABB and Merchant thugs shouted in confusion, firing wildly at the apparitions.

"Nice one, Loki," Clockblocker said. He was just a few feet away, freezing a pair of charging gang members mid-step.

"The more the merrier," Taylor replied, her voice sing-song.

From her position, Taylor had a good view of the battlefield—and of Sophia. Shadow Stalker darted between buildings and cargo crates, moving with the fluidity of her shadow form. But she wasn't as focused as usual. Sophia's head kept snapping toward corners and rooftops.

Always gratifying to see the results of your efforts.

Taylor flicked her wrist, conjuring a shadowy figure that looked just enough like an ABB soldier to be plausible. The illusion stepped out from behind a stack of crates, raising a weapon in Sophia's direction.

"Contact, six o'clock!" Sophia shouted, spinning to fire her crossbow. The bolt passed through the illusion harmlessly, clattering against the concrete.

"Where?" Vista asked over comms.

"Back here! I—" Sophia cut herself off, realizing there was nothing there.

"What are you talking about, Shadow Stalker?" Taylor asked innocently over comms, keeping her voice steady.

Taylor could feel her frustration radiating even from a distance. No words needed. In fact, she preferred Sophia's silence for multiple reasons—not just because Sophia would be half-tolerable with her tongue cut out. The silence was proof she was crushing her. Shattering her.

A Brute from the Merchants—some thug calling himself Smog—appeared, swinging a length of chain that trailed acrid, stinging smoke. The Wards converged on his location, working as a team to pin him down. They weren't supposed to engage actual supervillains (a thug with a weapon was one thing, but this was different). But since the problem had come to them, they had no choice. The Protectorate's incompetents apparently had let him slip pass.

Speaking of incompetence…

"Vista, narrow the space!" Armsmaster ordered.

"On it!" Vista replied, twisting the terrain to trap Smog between two shipping containers.

"Clockblocker, lock him down!"

"Working on it!" Clockblocker dodged a swing of the chain, slapping his hand against Smog's shoulder. The Brute froze mid-swing, encased in Clockblocker's temporal field.

Taylor conjured another illusion, this one a squad of heavily armed PRT troopers, and sent them charging into the chaos. The sight was enough to send the remaining thugs scattering, some even dropping their weapons.

But while the rest of the team celebrated the victory, Taylor's attention was still on Sophia. She saw nothing worth celebrating here. The possibility of failure had never crossed her mind. Not in this.

"Shadow Stalker, what's your status?" Armsmaster asked over comms.

"Fine," Sophia replied, but her voice was clipped.

Taylor smiled to herself as she spun her green staff—the same color as her costume and a product of her power. It helped her channel the energy that brought her illusions to life, among other things.