I smile.

Love is an odd thing. If you were to tell me that there existed a force that could control someone with such strength, powerful enough in some cases to overpower logic and reason and give favor to the heart over the mind, I would ask if Heartbreaker was running around Brockton Bay. There's a reason most manipulative relationships are romantic in nature.

For the past few hours, I have made it seem like I'm avoiding a certain someone. Up until now, it has been quite the challenge; trying to sneak around with two black eyes and a plaster cemented around the bridge of your nose tends to attract attention. No matter, challenges are very entertaining to me these days. A small little addition that may have made it harder is keeping a close eye on the someone I'm avoiding. She's still incredibly oblivious, and I believe I've seen a creased eyebrow and scrunched forehead appear on her face a not-insignificant amount of times.

She's a very strange girl. Other than her being the least tormentive out of the three, I hadn't gotten much of a chance to know her too well, and now that I'm getting an unfiltered view of her, I can surmise that I probably would have had a field day with what she does. In between classes, lunchtime, even during classes with fake bathroom excuses; she just stands near my locker, eyes flitting back and forth from one side of the hallway to the next. Strange and obsessive. Exactly what I need.

The final bell has just rang and, as I walk calmly out of class, I spot her approaching my locker through Patrick's eyes and, what do you know, standing silently next to it. At this point, it's gone from cute to annoying, and that's exactly what I wanted. My lip twitches slightly as I slide my books back in my backpack.

I nonchalantly move my way through the halls at a deliberately minimal pace. She's basically squirming in place by the time I get close. I turn the corner, a smiling mask on, and give a warm greeting to…

"Madison! Haunting my locker again, are you?"

She jumps in startelement at my first word.

"Taylor. Uh, hi. Fancy…meeting you, here?"

My character smirks amusedly and I can see a blush begin to stain her face red.

"So, why are you at my locker this time? You already apologized yesterday."

A faint glob of sweat streams down the side of her eye; I know exactly what she wanted to ask me.

"Well, heh, I, uh, was going to, um, ah…"

Maybe I can help her shake the thought out. Not here, though.

"I think I have a good idea of what you're going to say." Her stumbling stops as her eyes widen. "You wanna finish this somewhere else? I was planning on walking to the next bus stop before heading home anyway; you can join me if you want."

She stays frozen for a few moments, seemingly processing everything I said. This pregnant pause soon ended with the birth of the single most perfect word I've heard today.

"Okay."

I feel a smirk rise on my face; it isn't from the mask.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I'd say we're far enough from school to talk."

"Okay!"

"..."

"..."

"...You were going to tell me something?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"Well, aren't you great for conversation…"

"Sorry! It's just, uh, something difficult to say. Especially to, um…you."

"How so?"

"It's…about yesterday."

"...Yes?"

"I just…I had a really nice time talking to you. Sure, it started a little bit…"

"Hostile?"

"Yeah, that. But other than that, I really enjoyed it! And I was, um, thinking."

"About what?"

"Well, did…you have a good time as well? You were smiling and everything, but…"

"..."

"...I'm sure you were just putting up with me. I have to respect that you at least let me apologize before avoiding me and…leaving."

"...So, you heard about that?"

"Sophia wouldn't stop telling me today. She apparently heard it from Emma after…you told her."

"...I'm guessing you heard about that as well."

"I mean, it's understandable. You were mad at her and deserved something. I just didn't think you'd visit her at night."

"Well, just so you know-"

"The surprising thing is that she just…told you. I didn't think she'd be that nice."

"...Uh-huh."

"What I'm trying to say is…that I understand why you're leaving. I guess it was dumb I hoped we could maybe be…friends or something, I don't know."

"..."

"..."

"...I did."

"What?"

"Have a good time. I enjoyed yesterday. Here I was thinking you didn't."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. You looked strangely nauseous the whole time. Like the food didn't agree with you."

"...Really?"

"It's fine, I can relate. I felt the same thing."

"Really!?"

"Uh, yeah. Maybe…cool down a bit?"

"Sorry."

"Besides, just because I'm leaving the school doesn't mean we need to stop. I…was actually going to ask if you wanted to…"

"Yeah…?"

"...Do it again tomorrow? I really…like hanging out with you."

"Oh. Uh…wait. Are you…"

"Yes."

"With me?"

"Yes."

"Wh…why?"

"Because…I don't really know exactly why, but I think…seeing you like this has made me think of you in a different way."

"I…I feel the same!"

"And it may be a bit weird at first, but…if you want to…"

"..."

"...I think we can make it work."

"..."

"So…do you want to?"

"..."

"..."

"...Yes."

Madison :)

Sophia

Emma X

Blackwell X

Today is another Ward day, meaning, I have to miss an entire day of school for my "costume consultations" as Miss Militia called them. It's fine, it's only a single Thursday lost, but I was hoping to have a little bit more time to make a proper goodbye to Sophia; it's my last day at Winslow after all. It's understandable why they need me here for the whole afternoon, what with next week being simultaneously my Ward and Arcadia debut.

Most of what's running through my head right now is what I'm going to do with Sophia. I had originally been hoping that I would have more time for an extended goodbye, but we can't get everything we want in this life, can we?

There is a way that just occurred to me, however. Despite me not pressing charges after our "incident", Sophia was still mandated with a day or two of house arrest, a fine of a thousand or so dollars, and, this is the important part, seventy hours of community service. She does at least eight hours total over the weekend, which gives me enough time to do what I need.

I am shunted from my scheming by a tap on my shoulder from the guy taking my measurements.

"Ms. Hebert?" He points forward.

Ah, right. I turn back to the PRT PR team in front of me, three or so, waiting expectantly.

"Are you alright, Taylor?" Michelle.

You spaced out a bit." Theo.

"Do you need some water?" Chris.

I wave them all off as my character gives an apologetic smile.

"No, no, it's fine. Just a bit tired. Can you repeat what you were saying?"

They all nod and look back at their notepads. Michelle speaks first.

"So, an idea we had was that, given your Changer abilities evolving from crabs, you could be a sea themed superhero! If you sprout more powers related to sea creatures, it would fit perfectly. Name ideas are: Tritona, Amphitrite, and Nereid."

I think over it. In my off time at home, I had been studying as many creatures with interesting abilities I could use. Something I learned from this is that my copy power, the one that lets me use those animals' abilities in the first place, tends to prefer real creatures, as it took me the equivalent of almost an entire day to turn my fist into a gorilla's, and even then it was still painfully basic compared to the stock image orangutan's. The necessity to stick with oceanic animals would make things complicated, though a fish's gills would be a benefit.

"I feel that would be asking a bit much from me. I don't really want to have to jump in the sea every time I want something new to change into."

Michelle raises an eyebrow at my counter.

"Well, I'm sure that the PRT would be willing to acquire the species you ask for."

My character sucks some air through my teeth and shakes my head.

"Still, I would only really be useful if we were near a sea, and unless the Dockworker's Association is getting attacked anytime soon, it wouldn't work too well."

I don't think that was what Michelle hoped to hear, but she relents regardless with a solemn nod. It was now Theo's turn to pitch.

"If you exercise the Changer part a bit more, you could transform completely into animals instead of only parts of your body. You'd have the complete powers of the animal kingdom at your command! Some names for this could be: Beastgirl, Animalia, Wildtooth."

I immediately spot a problem with his idea.

"How would my costume work? I don't want to have barely survived an encounter with Lung just to end up naked in the middle of the street. I don't think they've even developed the technology for something that can expand or shrink that much yet. Good idea, though."

Theo raises a finger to continue, but it droops down just as fast as his face. This is becoming quite entertaining. It's all up to Chris now to impress me.

"Alright, hear me out. Catgirl-"

"Yeah, no. Not listening to the rest of that, sorry." My character puts a finger to my chin. "Could I possibly make a suggestion? I'm going to be the one wearing the costume, right?"

The three of them take a moment of pause and look between each other in silence. Their brief, invisible huddle ends as quickly as it started after Theo breaks the silence.

"Sure. We want you to be comfortable, of course."

I can hear more acid on his tongue than in a nuclear waste plant. I ignore it.

"I've recently been fascinated with Norse mythology." A half-truth at best. I just knew they were going to give me less desirable ideas and I just decided to read up on shapeshifters. "I found myself really liking Loki. You know he's historically known as a shapeshifter?"

Michelle scratches her chin.

"I guess. But wasn't he a…you know, a guy?"

"Actually, in the myths, he was known to change gender a lot too. He was a mom to some creatures; I'll just be a permanent female Loki."

Theo chimes in with a small protest.

"Woah, woah. We haven't decided on anything yet. Also, wasn't Loki a villain?"

I shrug.

"Depends on the myth. He mostly just did whatever seemed fun. He just wanted entertainment." Perfect for someone like me.

The three of them look between each other for a moment before going into a huddle with whispers that I could just listen into with Aileen, who's just hanging out in the ceiling corner, but I don't care enough to.

And what if I wanted to…?

Did you?

No. I don't care either. The possibility would have been nice to have, though.

I ignore her as the PR trio suddenly break up from their discussion. Theo is the first to talk.

"After a bit of debate, we have decided to go for it. We'll have to talk with the rest of PR, but our idea sounds like it could be a definite crowd-pleaser!" Hm. 'Our'.

I don't correct him on his Freudian slip and my character smiles politely.

"Okay! Sounds good to me."

Michelle clears her throat.

"Just, uh, one more thing. If you really want to go this way with your Ward identity, you're going to have to be very, how do I say this, extravagant." My lip twitches. "Very witty too. A bit charismatic maybe, for flavor." A small chuckle gurgles in my throat. "You'd basically just be acting a role. The rest of the Wards sort of do this, but usually their parahuman personas are tailored to who they are, their personalities. Do you think you would fit this role?"

No.

"I think I can." A large, winning grin makes its way across my face.

The three of them give me slightly weary smiles before proceeding to leave the room. Just as well, the measurement man is basically done.

As though there were a revolving door, as the PR team exit, I hear someone else walking up to the room through Aileen's ears.

Hey. Ward entering.

Who?

Don't remember the name. Didn't care enough to. Some prettyboy.

I turn my head towards the door and see Dean entering.

I am a bit confused for a moment, but quickly dissuade it as my character grows a jovial smirk. She waves.

"Oh! Hi, Dean! Whatcha doin' here?"

He does not return all of my character's jovial welcome, only a small, polite half-smirk before settling into a serious expression.

"Can we talk?"

I did not expect this. A deep annoyance floods my body for that fact, but my character is able to keep a lukewarm smile as my blood goes warmer.

"Really? About what? Sorry if it seems rude, but you're the last person who I thought would talk to me one-on-one."

The new groove in his lip offers nothing but a slight offence. Interesting; he can hide himself from my analysis. Whether it's on purpose or not is up for questioning, though I feel the answer may come with this talk.

He raises an eyebrow before bringing back the polite smile, the 'gentleman' as I call it. I use it a lot myself, but it's genuine when he does it.

"No, no. I can understand that. I'm normally a lot more social. It's just…" A small crease forms in his forehead. "I feel like we should talk somewhere else."

Seeing as how my previous 'talk somewhere else' ended in you-know-what, someone normal in this situation would probably decline and state they already have a partner, but there is something in the way he speaks that tells me it isn't for anything close to that reason. After visually mulling about it for a while, my character eventually shrugs my shoulders.

"Alright. If you're going to be so serious about it."

My character's laid-back mood seems to affect him somewhat, so any tension in the room almost falls completely away as I follow him out of the place. It's time for a different sort of measurements to be taken, anyway.

I have kept myself informed on Dean, or rather, Gallant's power: reading other people's emotions, and some level of manipulation of them. Dennis had told me earlier while taking me on an official tour around the HQ. He is remarkably loose-lipped when someone plays along with his hit-or-miss jokes, of which I'd say only a handful made me actually feel any sense of mirth. Of course, my character still laughed at most of them and returned with some of her own. The two of them went back and forth, yukking it up like inebriated hyenas. The extreme commitment to the role wasn't completely necessary, but it felt…nice. Just talking to someone like that. She must have had…quite the good time.

Moving on, I can already sense it will be the specific topic of conversation we will have. The preamble is already long enough; we've gone down at least five hallways, up three floors, and activated a scanner. All this just to get to a conference room; it isn't even large and fancy like the one I saw through Patrick's eyes when I scoped out the place.

Hey, I've been meaning to ask: where is the guy?

I thought you didn't like him.

I don't. But whenever you don't need us, it's like we just kinda disappear.

…To be honest, I don't know. Wherever, uh, bugs like you go when you're just milling about?

But you've basically given us more intelligence than other insects. How are we supposed to just go back to those simple-minded things?

Uh…

Dean smacks his lips.

"Okay, let's talk."

I'll get back to you on that, Aileen.

"Okay!"

What, too philosophical for you?

Shut it.

"What did you want to talk about?"

A oddened expression sifts through his face as he takes a few moments of pause, seemingly to gather his thoughts.

"...First of all, I want to say sorry for giving you the cold shoulder when we first met. As I said before, I'm really usually more sociable."

My character nods and smiles.

"Okay. I accept your apology. But you still haven't really told me why. Your 'sorry' is a little weak without the reason behind it, no offense."

He blows some air from his nose in a faint chuckle.

"Yeah, that part's actually why I, uh, wanted to talk to you now." His eyes have been subconsciously flitting around the room until now, as they are trained directly on me. "...What are you feeling right now?"

My character quirks my eyebrow and her smile.

"Uh…confused? I thought you already knew, 'cause of…you know."

He shakes his head disappointedly.

"I'm guessing either Missy or Dennis told you about it. And, unfortunately, no, for some reason. Normally, when I focus on someone, I see a color of some sort in them, like red for anger, blue for sadness, pink for…attraction." He scratches his chin. "But when I look at you, I see…"

What do you see, Dean? Is something wrong? Do you see…

"...Nothing?"

To my surprise, he shakes his head again.

"Not exactly. It's…weird. It's like trying to see someone behind a really dark curtain. I can see the outline of something; a silhouette, you could say; but there's a sort of…cover, like a, um, smokescreen."

Hm. Not what I expected. So, I am feeling something? I don't think so; those little annoyances I have are muted versions of what I would normally be feeling, which…doesn't make sense either. If my standard response to little frustrations without the nerve-muting could possibly be akin to basically having a tantrum, which is definitely not how I was before, what is going on then? And this smokescreen, this curtain he's talking about, what is that? I have had surprise after surprise today, and I feel a fire rise in my chest because of that.

Dean snaps me out of my trance with a pointed cough.

"Are you alright? Your eye's twitching a bit."

My character blinks my eyes a few times before a nervous smile wires itself onto my lips.

"I…I guess. This is just a bit…"

"Strange, I know. To be honest, I thought you were doing it on purpose at first, but from your reaction, I'm guessing you don't know what it is either."

I know that, Dean. Don't rub salt in the wound when I already have half the Dead Sea in it.

"No! Really, this feels…I feel really…"

He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Look. I know this may seem a bit…scary, but just know that you're one of us now. Not officially yet, but no matter what happens, you will always be one of us."

Pity is not the word I would use.

"Okay?"

But it's hard to find one more apt.

"..."

For that is what his promise ultimately is.

"Okay."

Pitiful.

It is dark out now, and my brain has an itch. The night is quiet, allowing my thoughts to flow more freely without the guttering of noise, though there is a faint wind blowing by me as I make my way down the Boardwalk. All of this gives me the perfect environment to think as I make my way to my destination.

To think, to think…about what, exactly? There's only one thing to think about, and it's my thinking, or at least what's wrong with it. In the time since the locker and now, I thought that my emotions, and therefore my humanity, had been lost completely. Now, it seems I've regained some mote of it, though it is still quite muted in comparison to what normal people would feel. This comeback…imagine a dam with a crack in it, holding back hundreds of metric tons of water, thousands even. The crack only allows a few driplets of water to fall through, but these little drops are only heralds for an even worse deluge that could befall this dam.

This analogy feels accurate given that, with my new knowledge on what my emotions apparently look like, something odd has emerged, like an itch of sorts in my brain. Not an itch, actually; a scratch. Something is scratching at the insides of my brain and I don't know what.

One thing I don't appreciate from this resurgence is the return of anxiety. Not too a horrible amount, but when you haven't felt any big feelings for a while, even the smallest drop is like a waterfall. A minor one, but still a hard-hitter. And this one drop is enough to almost drown me.

Thankfully, I find my destination quick enough and the jitters are lost. The house looks just as dilapidated as it did when I first saw it. Walking up to the door, I have to stop; the itch has grown into a scratching, like something inside is trying to claw its way out, and I'm barely able to keep myself on my feet. It's horrible.

I'm stumbling inside by the time I enter, and immediately send a call out to the inhabitants. Hehe. Inhabit-ants. Hah.

Get out here. All of you.

I hear them before I see them, hundreds of voices rattling into my head. It doesn't seem to help my headache. I'm fine, though. I'm fine.

Boss? What's wrong?

Are you okay?

Has disorder taken you over?

Do you need anything?

SHUT UP. JUST BE QUIET ALREADY. I'M FINE.

…

You…don't sound fine.

BECAUSE I'M NOT. I WAS LYING.

Oh. Okay!

LISTEN. SEND ME SOME OF YOUR BEST TUNNELERS.

Okay. That would probably be some of the bosses.

THAT'S FINE. JUST GET THEM OUT HERE. IT HURTS.

I cut off the speakery. It hurts more after. I don't know what's happening, but it's getting worser. And worser. I see four Adorable Ants, alliteration, ha! They are approaching me, wiggling their tiny little legs, tiny little legs, across the ground. How can I see them in the dark, that's goddamn weird. No lights are on in the house, it's like pitch Black. Wait, I need to tell them something.

Okay. My Brain Is Itchy. Get Inside. The Ones Chosen.

Alright! Wait….I'm sorry, what did you say, boss?

iNSiDe. GeT iNSiDe. THRouGH THe FuCKiN i DoNT KNoW. eaRS, NoSe. JuST Do iT.

…Boss, we don't understand-

DO IT.

Okay!

I put my back on the floor and my head and my arms and my legs and all the other things too. My hair goes all around my head and the head burn is getting worser. I feel the little guys go over my hands and over my arms and up to my shoulder. They are no more than little tickles. No tickle comes from my damn head. The damn dam crack, hah, a crack in my damn head dam, is getting big, bigger, biggest. Little drops going plink, plink, plink fall out, hit the floor, make a puddle before a river of hurt falls from it, a waterfall of hurt. It hurts much badly. Oh wait, the bugs, they tickle, they are tickles; I feel them. I feel a little tickle on my ear and in my nostril, many tickles, like four-ty. The tickle moves up both ways. It feels weird. Why did I ask the tickles to move there? What will they do? What did I make them do? The tickle becomes more, grows more closer to my head, the inside part. I feel them feel around in there, crawling up and down and around and upside-over as they search the outside of my brain's bone cage; skull, it's called, I remember. I feel little patter-pitters of the tickles' tiny feet go on the softly-hard, hardly-soft bone. I hear them sniff, how? Do they have noses? They can't sniff, they use antennas. And now they move, they move to the next part. They find a hole, a small hole, but they can fit, I know they will. What are they going to do. Little feet touch the brain veins. Flesh is felt, and I feel it. Nerves fire like cannonballs. The hurt, the HURT. It HURTS. I don't LIKE IT. It's BAD. It's BAD. IT WONT STOP. IT WONT STOP. STOP IT. ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD ITS BAD

It's gone.

Suddenly, it feels as though the pain was never there, and I wake up. For some reason, I am lying on the dirty floor of the house and can hear hundreds of little voices shouting in my mind.

Boss!

Boss, are you alright?

Boss, what's going on?

I lay there confused for a moment before pushing myself onto my hands.

i Yes, I'm fine. I'm alright. I just…what happened?

You just came in out of nowhere! You looked like something was wrong.

You kept saying something about your brain, and that it was itchy.

The weird part was that…it didn't sound like you. Or at least, not the 'you' we know.

What happened to the others?

An odd feeling in my ears piques my interest; it feels like something is filling them, something loose and hairy. Curious, I tilt my head to the side and…

Ants fall out. Ant corpses, more accurately. Even more curious, I tilt my head to the other side; more ants fall out. My nose also feels stuffy, so I blow out some air; somehow, even more ants. I sit and process all of this. What happened?

And why don't I remember any of it?