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Victoria Dallon | Glory Girl | Antares & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver

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Alt-Power Taylor HebertWhat Was I Thinking?Phoenix Force (X-Men)

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Published:2025-08-09Updated:2025-11-02Words:248,706Chapters:39/?Comments:242Kudos:457Bookmarks:258Hits:29,911

Firebird

chibipoe

Summary:

The locker happens, and it isn't the Queen Administrator that finds itself a vessel in Taylor Hebert...

Chapter 1: Slumber 1.1

Chapter Text

Winslow High School.

I hated this place. Even now, after they were supposed to crack down on the bullying and ensure that no further incidents happened, they still did. It was every bit as virulent as before. They had just become better at making sure their actions weren't obvious.

I hated this place. I hated them.

But it didn't matter. I hadn't figured out the reason behind it, but I had power now.

Or rather, powers. Several smaller abilities. Precognition, a minor telekinesis and some sort of protective aura that seemed like heat waves surrounding me. Almost like fire.

Which confused me. My brief research into- I paused in my thoughts and leaned to the side slightly as a spitball soared past me harmlessly. It struck the student sitting in front of me, someone whose name I didn't know or care to know. He twisted in his seat to glare, first at me, then beyond me toward its source.

A moment later, he gave me a disgusted look and turned back around.

"Mr. G, Taylor just hit someone with a spitball!" Madison's voice said sweetly. I suppressed a groan and began gathering my books, already knowing what would happen. I could see it clear as day, unfolding before me. He would ask her a question:

"And how do you know that, Madison?"

And she would answer:

"I just saw her flick it into Ronald's hair," she would reply. I didn't even need to turn to know she was giving him a completely honest expression, looking for all the world like she was completely innocent in the whole affair. And then:

"Is this true, Ronald?" Mr. Gladly would ask. "Did Taylor hit you with a spitball?"

To which Ronald would say:

"I was hit with a spitball, Mr. Gladly," he answered, not turning to look at me. "I didn't see where it came from."

Then:

"Well, Taylor, what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, his determination of my guilt already set in stone.

"Your class sucks," I replied, closing the flap on my bag. "You can go ahead and send me to the office or whatever, since you've made up your mind." And, like the other times, the next moments unfolded before me as I stared off to a spot past his shoulder as if he wasn't there.

Mr. Gladly's face turned red as my words fell into a sudden silence, heard by the entire room. "That sort of disrespect is completely unacceptable, Ms. Hebert."

"So is the treatment I'm getting here," I said flippantly. "What's your point?"

"That's it!" he said, reaching toward me. "We're going to the principal's office right now."

I stood before he could grab my arm, moving just past his attempt to corral me with what appeared effortless ease. My bag swung around, blocking his arm by hitting the wrist as I strode forward through the opening that gave me. Three steps and I calmly skipped over the outstretched foot that would have tripped me, clearing the aisle of desks in seconds.

"I know the way," I said as I left the room, ignoring his shouts to stop. Even as the door swung shut, I felt eyes on my back and I knew who they belonged to. Sophia.

I kept walking though. Whatever her problem was now, I didn't care.

Behind me, I heard the door open and Mr. Gladly shout my name, but I kept walking, heading for the principal's office. Distantly, I hoped this would be different from my other visits, but I knew better. Still, unlike my other visits, maybe I could...

A smile crossed my lips as I thought about that, feeling the beginnings of a slight headache as I pushed that aspect of my powers to see what Principal Blackwell would say during our conversation. That could be entertaining, at least. I kept going toward the office, ignoring Mr. Gladly's attempts to rein me in.

"Ms. Hebert!"

I stopped, turning slightly. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, red-faced.

"To the office?" I asked, my tone indicating that this was a stupid question. "I didn't see any need for you to leave the class unattended when I know the way there?"

"This sort of behavior is entirely unacceptable-" he began.

"Unacceptable is actually you determining that I was firing spitballs without any evidence to support that fact aside from the word of someone who hates me," I countered. "Was there anything else? I really have places to be."

"Ronald said you did it!" he raised his voice.

"No, Ronald said he didn't see where they came from," I corrected. "You didn't ask me if I had done it, or do anything beyond take Madison's word that I was responsible. That's completely unacceptable to me and I'm removing myself from that environment."

"You're going to the principal's office, is what you're doing," he growled, reaching an arm toward me. I stepped back easily, leaving him grasping air.

"I think I've changed my mind," I announced. "I think I'll just leave, instead."

"You can't!" he shouted.

"I can't?" I mocked, wondering in the back of my head what was sparking this defiance. Realization struck a moment later. I had powers, I was special in a way no one else was. I didn't know how I knew this or even why, but I knew it was true. "Can't isn't something that applies to me, Mr. Gladly. So here's what is going to happen now. You're going to leave me alone, go back to your classroom and annoy them. I'm done here." His eyes met mine and I could almost feel our wills clashing. I felt a pulse of heat and his eyes lost focus and he turned, nodding.

"Yes," he was saying to himself. "I have to teach class. Run along to the office, Ms. Hebert."

I watched him go, frowning. What had just happened? I had told him to go and he had obeyed. Mind control? For a moment, I had felt as if he had been trying to resist me, but I was stronger and he failed.

As was right.

I frowned again and then shrugged. Whatever. I was done here.

I walked out without bothering to go to Blackwell's office. Dad would probably badger me, but I simply didn't care.

I didn't know why my powers were different from everyone else's, but some instinct said that they were and the few things I could do now were just the beginning. I would grow stronger. Stronger than the Triumvirate. Stronger than Scion. This world would love me.

Or it would burn.

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Relationship:

Victoria Dallon | Glory Girl | Antares & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver

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Additional Tags:

Alt-Power Taylor HebertWhat Was I Thinking?Phoenix Force (X-Men)

Language:

English

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Published:2025-08-09Updated:2025-11-02Words:248,706Chapters:39/?Comments:242Kudos:457Bookmarks:258Hits:29,911

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 2: Slumber 1.2

Chapter Text

The mood in the room was somber as Armsmaster strode in, then stood, the attention of various Directors focused on him.

"I trust you have a report for us?" Assistant Director Tagg said, his expression irritable. Armsmaster didn't respond, his suit's internal displays advising him of this man's position and authority. Handled Assistant duties in Bismarck, as well as former operations lead on a Simurgh containment zone.

Instead, Armsmaster turned his attention to the Chief Director, Rebecca Costa-Brown. "At approximately 1400 hours on January 3rd, a manifestation graced the skies over Brockton Bay, centered above Winslow High School. The manifestation appeared as an avian construct made of fire and held its position, wings spread, for exactly ten minutes before dissipating. No one within the school witnessed anything. However, due to its unknown nature, one relatively new agent panicked and sounded the Alert, resulting in the students being filed out as per standard evacuation procedures."

He paused to order his thoughts. "At that time, Protectorate assets arrived on site accompanied by PRT agents and established a cordon, checking over the students for any signs of injury as well as discreetly taking a head count against the attendance rolls."

He stepped forward and activated the room's holographic systems, bringing up an image of a teenage girl, with long, curly hair. "It was quickly determined that the only student we could not account for as either present or absent due to illness or such, was one Taylor Hebert. Age 15. Upon review, we considered that Ms. Hebert may have been the recipient of a Trigger Event, and awakened as a parahuman."

Armsmaster paused a moment as the image changed, to reflect the results of their medical testing. "Myself, accompanied by Velocity, Dauntless, and Miss Militia entered the facility and conducted a thorough search. Our reasoning was such that we believed Ms. Hebert might still be within in the building somewhere, potentially distressed."

His jaw tightened into a grimace. "We found Ms. Hebert comatose and trapped within a locker filled with feminine biological waste products."

Several of the directors looked disgusted but said nothing. "We extracted her and arranged for transport to Brockton Bay Memorial. She remained unresponsive for two days, during which time I authorized the appropriate scans under the Rogers-Banner Act to ascertain if she was a parahuman."

"The tests showed as negative. Upon awakening, we questioned Ms. Hebert and though she had her belief as to who had incarcerated her within the locker, she had not seen them as they shoved her from behind. An inquiry to the staff and student body returned nothing conclusive and that matter was turned over to the Brockton Bay Police Department." Armsmaster paused again as the image switched to a video file, showing the bird of fire as it erupted into the sky.

"Unfortunately, the Rogers-Banner Act does not provide the latitude to conduct scans on the entire student body," he resumed. "Discreet surveillance has been assigned to Ms. Hebert, but she has displayed no signs of parahuman ability. The source of the avian fire construct remains a mystery at present."

"Why aren't you putting eyes on all the students?" Tagg demanded.

"At present, we lack the manpower to place surveillance on the entire student body and staff of Winslow," he said urbanely. "To say nothing that such a widespread action would undoubtedly be noticed. I submit that your suggested course of action would be ill-advised and prove more of a hindrance than aid."

"Armsmaster," Director Costa-Brown said, cutting off what reply Tagg had been about to make. "Have you considered the possibility that Ms. Hebert was the one responsible? That she may be occluding her status as a parahuman in some fashion? The appearance of this avian fire construct, as you described, did coincide with the worldwide disruption of every precognitive Thinker ability that we are aware of. Certainly, it must be considered that she could disrupt the readings of the tests as well."

"Considered and dismissed, Ma'am," he said politely. "Being trapped within the locker would more than qualify as a Trigger event, when considered with the other details she provided us. However, the instances where a parahuman newly awoken to their powers would have such a degree of fine control, especially while comatose, is so unlikely as to be astronomically impossible."

He straightened, letting his gaze room across the directors. "However, with no other leads to pursue, I have taken initiative to see what I can learn. The simple fact is, we lack any other concrete source as to the origin of this entity. The panic of the one PRT agent aside, further study has dismissed the Endbringer possibility. With that fact in place, I will be conducting an on-site initiative at Winslow High to determine precisely what occurred there and if Ms. Hebert is a parahuman and if she was responsible for the manifestation of the flaming bird."

Armsmaster allowed himself a small smile in his thoughts, noting how many of the Directors cracked grins at his choice of words. Success. Director Costa-Brown remained as stoic as ever, he thought, but he was sure that the corner of her lips twitched slightly.

"How do you plan to do this?" Tagg interjected, apparently still displeased over something. Unsurprising, the man seemed to be in a permanently foul mood, from what Armsmaster knew of him.

"As the abilities of this parahuman are at present unknown, I am maintaining departmental protocols and classifying the exact details of my operation so that it is only accessible by myself and those I either grant clearance to, or are possessed of a higher clearance than my own. With respect, Mr. Tagg, you are neither of those, so I am afraid I cannot answer your questions."

He shifted, his manner brusk now. "What information that is available, I have submitted to your personal accounts according to your clearance level. With your permission, Chief Director, I have arrangements to make. Recent developments at Winslow have provided me an opening to initiate my research."

"Dismissed, Armsmaster," she said. He inclined his head and turned on his heel, exiting the room sharply.

~~~~~~~~

His suit's helmet sat in place atop the display system where he kept it when not in use, with over half of his armor accompanying it. He made adjustments, packing away one of his gauntlets into the case on his workspace. This was a system he had been working on, for rapid deployment of his gear in the event he was off-duty. He had not had occasion to test it fully, but he had full confidence that it would work.

The door to his lab slid open and he didn't bother to turn around, knowing who was there.

"You aren't talking me out of this," he said.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Hannah said. "But why?"

"Primus, I want to find out what the hell is going on at that hellhole. Secundus, I want to find the parahuman responsible for that little display and ascertain if they are a danger." He paused. "Those are not necessarily in order."

"Granted, but this... Colin... are you sure? This is unlike you." Hannah said.

"I'm fully qualified, I'll have you know," he said. "I completed all the appropriate courses and keep my accreditation renewed every year. It can hardly be more difficult than facing down Kaiser or Lung."

"And you want me to handle field operations in your... absence?" she asked.

"Armsmaster will still be operating as a member of the Protectorate in the field, but for the moment, officially, you are assuming Protectorate leadership here in Brockton Bay while he is devoting his efforts to a joint project with Dragon." he said. "In truth, however, Professor Colin Singer will be assuming the position of Parahuman Social Studies at Winslow High."

"Won't it seem odd to have a Professor teaching at a High School?" Hannah observed.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Unfortunately, Professor Singer is persona non-grata at the universities at the moment, due to an indelicate liaison with a colleague that was happened upon by the Dean. He's something of a rogue, you see." He glanced toward a mirror and frowned, rubbing his chin.

"I might want to shave this while I'm undercover," he mused.

"Armsmaster's known for having a beard though." Hannah pointed out.

"Dragon developed an aftershave that promotes hair growth quickly," Colin said with a shrug. "It'll allow further separation between Colin Singer and Armsmaster if anyone should penetrate my disguise. It is rather unlikely that anyone will, however as my work in this was flawless."

"Well, Professor," Hannah said. "Best of luck." He finished packing away the pieces of his suit, watching as the case's interface began disassembling the pieces, integrating them with its own make-up. Everything seemed to be in order then.

"I won't need that," he said. "But all the same, thank you." He closed the case and hefted it. Weight was well within tolerances and it appeared as nothing more than a briefcase. He raised his other hand in a brief salute and left his lab, with Hannah following him out. A moment's work, and the room was sealed and he was off to begin his investigation into Winslow and Taylor Hebert.

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Rating:

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Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

F/F

Fandoms:

Parahumans Series - WildbowX-Men - All Media Types

Relationship:

Victoria Dallon | Glory Girl | Antares & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver

Characters:

Additional Tags:

Alt-Power Taylor HebertWhat Was I Thinking?Phoenix Force (X-Men)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-08-09Updated:2025-11-02Words:248,706Chapters:39/?Comments:242Kudos:457Bookmarks:258Hits:29,911

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 3: Slumber 1.3

Chapter Text

I wasn't sure why I kept coming back to Winslow. I had pressed the limits of my power so much that one day, I had passed out on my bed with a nosebleed and everything I had seen told me that nothing was going to change here. The Principal was apologetic when I complained, but always fell back to that without evidence, there was nothing she could do. If I pressed, she would just turn it back on me by insinuating that I was making things up in a plea for attention.

Mr. Gladly had left or been fired for some reason and there was a new teacher in school. He seemed determined to alleviate any issues I had during his class, but that just meant they tried three times harder outside of it. Attempts to trip or push me down the stairs, whispered remarks as they passed in the hallway, things shoved into my locker or taken from my bag when I wasn't looking.

I had a headache constantly now, from keeping my power running just so I could protect my things and myself. I was getting tired of it, tired of this school and the administration's refusal to do anything. I had powers now. I could change things. Become a hero...

And why should I support them?

On the one hand, the Protectorate had pulled me out of the locker. Or so I am told. I wasn't awake for that and other than some questions from a PRT agent inquiring about whether or not I had powers, which I managed to lie my way through using the very abilities I claimed not to have. They apparently were looking for a parahuman who had created some sort of construct in the sky over the school the same day I had been stuffed in the locker.

Whatever that had been, I didn't believe it was me. I had tried to make a giant bird of fire appear several times and nothing had happened except that I felt increasingly stupid. Maybe some other student got shoved in a locker and got powers and they missed them? I didn't know, but the closest thing I had to that was a heat aura that rippled the air while not giving off any actual heat. I'm not even sure heat aura is the right term for it, but that's what it seemed to resemble, the way the air ripples when you see heat rising off a surface.

Slowly, I stood up and backed away from the roof, heading toward the stairwell. I suppose the least I could do is give this new teacher a bit more of my attention. Maybe he really was different. But I doubted it. He would show that he was as bad as the rest in the end.

I took two steps on the stairs, then moved slightly to the right, continuing downward as a hand met air and its owner stumbled at the lack of contact. I didn't even look at the person, as I knew who it was. Somehow, they caught themselves before taking a tumble down the stairs.

"Should watch yourself," I remarked as I kept going. "You might fall down the stairs like that."

"Hebert..." my would-be assailant growled. I just kept walking and slipped into the hallway to reach my next class, avoiding some of the other flunkies to my tormentors and entered the classroom just ahead of the bell. I was calmly settled at my desk, which was thankfully devoid of any infantile stunts like glue or juice, when Sophia stalked in, turning a glare toward me that I would have flinched at or looked away from, before.

Now I just returned a bored look, thoroughly unimpressed. A moment later and the new teacher entered, Professor Singer. He had insisted on being addressed in that fashion. I turned my head slightly to look outside, watching clouds beginning to gather. Was it going to rain?

When my power told me no, I flipped open my notebook and began doodling while half-paying attention to the teacher. There likely wasn't anything I would learn in this anyway, so I kept enough attention on the possibilities so that I could look attentive while doing things more productive.

"..so with that in mind, I want some input from each of you regarding your thoughts on the development of parahuman abilities and their impact on society. In particular, how do you think the increasing number of people with parahuman powers affects those without and what they feel about that." He looked around the room, passing over me before stepping from behind his desk. "You are free to use any sources you might wish for this, but I expect you to cite them, if you please. Three pages, minimum and I would like it turned on by next Friday."

I blinked once, reviewing what he had said in my mind so I had an idea of where to begin. Unbidden, my eyes drifted to what I had been drawing, widening at the almost completed sketch of a costume. I looked it over critically, from the top to the bottom, eyeing the boots, the sash belted at the waist below the sigil etched across the torso. Gloves completed the ensemble, almost opera glove like and I frowned at the outfit.

It wasn't entirely practical. Those boots would hinder movement and the gloves were likely to reduce dexterity. The sash, too, was something that could be grabbed and used against you. Why would someone wear this? Why had I even thought it up? The questions were answered by a flash of realization as I gathered up my books.

Because they were so powerful that they could wear whatever they wanted. I left the class with a slight smile at that. What would it be like to have that sort of power? My musing and my smile quickly evaporated as I found my way blocked as I turned down the hall. Emma and her cronies, trapping me against the lockers.

"Can you believe her?" One of them said. "Coming into class and sitting there, thinking we want her here?"

"I heard she's turning tricks for the Merchants for a fix," another said. It faded into background noise. More meaningless drivel from meaningless gnats. None of this mattered, not them, not Emma's absurd fixation on tearing me down. Jealousy. That was all it was.

"What's the matter, Taylor?" Emma began, stepping forward with a cruel smile dancing on her lips. "Going to-"

I held up a hand and she blinked, caught off guard by the sudden misstep in the usual song and dance they were doing. I already knew what she was going to say and I didn't want to hear it. If she said them, I could see what would happen. An instant's searching and I had an alternative. "Yes, Emma. I cried for a week when my mother died. When she died. If that were to happen to you, I wonder what you would do? Or you? Or you?" I focused on her flunkies each in turn and saw them reel, looking uncomfortable.

"It's called grief, you stupid bitch," I snarled. "And the fact that you would try to use that, something I told you in confidence, as a weapon makes you even less of a person that I thought. Pitiful."

Emma reeled and then hate appeared on her face. "Big talk from someone-"

"Are you done?" I interrupted again. I couldn't let her gain any ground. "Because this really isn't worth my time. You aren't worth my time."

I could have avoided the slap. I chose not to. It made what would happen next more satisfying.

"Ms. Barnes, Ms. Hebert, the rest of you," Professor Singer's voice cut in and the girls all turned stunned expressions toward him. "You're to accompany me to the Principal's office. Assaulting another student is entirely unacceptable."

"Did you hear what she-"

"I did, and the comments from you and your circle of accomplices here before that," he cut her off. "Judging from your complete lack of denial when Ms. Hebert elaborated on what you intended to say, I'd judge her comments rather apt. However, as the victim here, she'll need to provide an accounting when we all go have a nice chat with the Principal."

"Wasting your time," I said, remembering other attempts to report things to the Principal. "She'll just slap them on the wrist, if she does anything."

His expression was hard. "I can be quite persuasive, you'll find. Now, all of you, move. And Ms. Barnes? You and your companions are advised to keep your mouths shut. I'm aware of your little whisper campaign to Ms. Hebert." She said nothing, but her expression was ugly as he directed us all to Prinicpal Blackwell's office.

~~~~~~~~

"And what exactly is it that I am supposed to do, Mr. Singer?" Principal Blackwell said. "Suspend them for a heated conversation?"

"Oddly enough," he rumbled. "Surrounding one student and proceeding to insult and belittle her while pretending to be talking to each other like she wasn't there isn't heated conversation. It's bullying. That's without even bringing up the fact that Ms. Hebert was physically assaulted."

"I've heard the account," Blackwell said stiffly. "Ms. Barnes was clearly provoked."

"Standing up for yourself is provocation, then?" he countered. "I've observed more than sufficient provocation from Ms. Barnes and her cohorts that Ms. Hebert's response was subdued. That she restrained herself to only verbal replies speaks well of her."

"Unfortunately, I have several accounts here that they were talking only to themselves and not bothering Ms. Hebert at all when she began verbally assaulting Ms. Barnes, ther-" Principal Blackwell began.

"Are you calling me a liar, Principal Blackwell?" Professor Singer's voice was like iron, unyielding and the stare he was directing at her made her shift awkwardly.

"Not at all, but you were not present for the-"

"Ms. Barnes will be suspended for a week and her cohorts will face detention every day with me for their antics," he interrupted, leaning forward just a touch so he was looming over her at her desk. "I was witness to the entire exchange from when Ms. Hebert was penned in by them to her retorts to their sniping. I stated as much in my report. I don't know what sort of nonsense prompts your refusal to do your job and rein in this sort of behavior, but it's entirely unacceptable. Good lord, you had a girl stuffed in a locker with biological waste and someone else who may have become a parahuman, based on that manifestation over the school. And you're still condoning this sort of behavior by your inaction?"

"We had no witnesses to tha-"

"Don't," he cut her off again, "try that line of tripe with me. I'm fully aware of what they found Ms. Hebert locked within."

"You seem to be under the impression that you have some authority here," Blackwell retorted, her ire rising. "But I, you'll acknowledge, am the Principal here. You work for me."

"I work for the City of Brockton Bay," he corrected. "And you'll either do your job or I will be bringing your abysmal behavior to the Board of Education. I'm sure Superintendent Morris will be quite interested in the sort of behavior you're allowing to slide here. He has a daughter around Ms. Hebert's age, if memory serves."

Principal Blackwell stared at him for a moment before looking away. "Very well. Ms. Barnes will have a week's suspension for assaulting another student, and her companions will have detention. You, however, can explain this to Mr. Barnes when he comes protesting this."

"It would be my pleasure," Professor Singer said, nodding. "I will inform them."

"Just get out of my office," she said.

~~~~~~~~

I didn't know what to think of this. Emma was being suspended and the others were facing detention. There was still Sophia and whatever she would cook up in retaliation, but I had avoided her for the most part since gaining these powers. I allowed a pleased smile to cross my lips as I waited for the bus. After a moment, I flipped open my notebook to the costume I had drawn. It really was hideously unpractical. I didn't have the first idea how to start on making such a thing either. But, maybe if I made some changes, I could do something more with my powers aside from avoiding bullies.

I dug out my pencils and began making modifications, my mind alight with ideas. It would need a mask of some sort, for starters...

---

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Rating:

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Category:

F/F

Fandoms:

Parahumans Series - WildbowX-Men - All Media Types

Relationship:

Victoria Dallon | Glory Girl | Antares & Taylor Hebert | Skitter | Weaver

Characters:

Additional Tags:

Alt-Power Taylor HebertWhat Was I Thinking?Phoenix Force (X-Men)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2025-08-09Updated:2025-11-02Words:248,706Chapters:39/?Comments:242Kudos:457Bookmarks:258Hits:29,911

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 4: Slumber 1.4

Chapter Text

Colin entered his house with a frown, glancing around curiously. How long had it been since he had been here? He shook his head. Not long enough, but it would serve as a temporary base of operations. Most of the furniture still sat where he had left it, dust covers still in place.

He picked his way through the hallway, footsteps sure even though it was dark. This place was somewhere he couldn't forget how to navigate. The hall closet was found, opening with a squeak. The hinges would need some touching up, he thought. A moment of fumbling and he flipped the breakers, restoring power to the building.

The living room was where he went next, carefully dragging away one of the dust covers. The row of photographs, each carefully framed, stared back at him once revealed and he smiled weakly.

"I'm home," he said, allowing his fingers to drift across one of the photographs for a moment before turning and pulling away several other dust covers. He had work to do.

Twenty minutes later and he had several computers set up across the coffee table, each powering up.

"Record, file ID Alpha-Seven, subheading: Suspected Pyrokinetic Manifestation." he said, the recording starting up as he began paging through his notes. "Despite more than a week of operation at Winslow and I have yet to uncover any clues to who was responsible for the display over the school. Under directives from my superiors, I've kept an eye on Taylor Hebert due to the possibility she was somehow occluding her parahuman status during the examinations unconsciously."

"While I believe this unlikely, instructions from the Chief Director are not to be overlooked, but as yet, Ms. Hebert has yet to display any abilities in the moments I have observed." Colin went on, frowning. "Additionally, despite my best efforts, I can only be in one place at a time. Will consider retasking an old project for deployment at Winslow to provide discreet surveillance. This will allow me to survey the area more comprehensively and perhaps find something that will lead me to the one responsible."

He paused for a moment, making a notation on a student's paper regarding their abysmal use of spelling and grammar. Whatever idea they had been trying to convey was lost amid unintelligible garbage.

"Indeed, the one encounter I've had the opportunity to examine Ms. Hebert in-depth where the use of powers would have been most likely, resulted only in her verbally lambasting one of her tormentors," Colin went on. "Discreet questioning has turned up that her behavior since the locker seems more aggressive, but that can be attributed solely to having reached the end of her tolerance." His eyes widened as he looked at another paper and he shook his head, making several scathing comments in red.

"Of more concern is the fact that the lull I've been taking advantage of has passed," he resumed. "I fear that other parties will move to conduct their own efforts to locate the parahuman responsible and I suspect they will not in any way subtle. Nevertheless, I will continue my investigation and take action when and if it is needed. End Recording."

Colin stretched and moved from grading papers to sorting through the reports that Hannah had sent to him. The usual tidy comments on the Wards team and a few notations about an investigation into a vigilante the Protectorate had been wanting to bring in.

He typed a few responses out for her on how to deal with what he had gleaned of the vigilante's powerset and began the process of setting his systems to comb through every piece of information he could on the students of Winslow. With that running, he stood and started toward the kitchen, curious to see if the stasis systems he had built years ago had kept the food within the refrigerator intact or not.

I really should look in on some of my older projects more often. He thought, eyeing the self-contained apparatus that had been one of his first projects. Colin's eyes drifted up and he felt color flee his features at the sight of a card held on the refrigerator by a magnet.

He stared at it for a moment, one hand starting to unfold it for reading before he let his hand fall.

"Right. Going out to eat," he said, stalking out of the kitchen. "Looking at my old projects can wait until later. Much later."

~~~~~~~~

There were several issues with creating a costume, I found. Money, Materials and then Production. Fortunately, the first step was the gateway to the following steps. Unfortunately, though, it was something I did not have an abundance of.

Which is why I was now at a run down corner store perilously close to Merchants territory. It sold the scratch-off gambling cards that you could try and fail to win money at. A search through the list of such stores in Brockton Bay combined with brief uses of my power had yielded that this was the place to go. They wouldn't ask questions about my age and its dilapidated state meant that no one bothered to watch it closely, so I wasn't going to seem out of place.

Counting down in my head, I started forward just as a dishevelled old man emerged, clutching a crumpled paper bag to his chest. I slipped between the door before it closed and went straight to the counter. Three minutes later, and twenty dollars of my money lighter, I left. But the cards in my pack were going to easily make that back. Once scratched off, I would have the beginnings of a fund for the costume and getting new clothes in general. My wardrobe was in serious need of attention. What would Scott think to see me in some of those shapeless outfits?

My growling stomach reminded me that I had skipped breakfast. A quick count confirmed that I had something in the neighborhood of thirty dollars left, so I zipped along my backtrail to the bus stop and waited for it to arrive.

Thirty minutes and several stops later and I was approaching Fugly Bob's. They didn't have the best burgers, but they were always busy enough that I was just another face blending in with the crowd. Shortly after the locker incident, someone had leaked all the sordid details to the press. They had jumped all over it with a story about bullied teenagers. Winslow had been quick to make a statement that there was no evidence regarding who was responsible, but it did seem to have somewhat of a positive effect.

I let the waitress guide me to a small corner table as I thought about the school. Even with the new teacher and his apparent desire to come down hard on any sort of misconduct, it didn't change the behavior of the students. Emma and company still shaped perception of me to a degree that I wasn't comfortable with. Even more so now after the locker, I felt like everything was off a bit. Like how everyone saw me was wrong.

They should all be bowing in worship of me.

Emma's suspension had begun yesterday and I was grateful for her absence, even though I expected her to resume her campaign when she returned. She would have a whole week to plan something, after all. I didn't know what I was going to do, but the situation so far simply couldn't be allowed to continue. I wasn't going to continue being Emma's victim any longer and I would need to decide how I was going to respond.

"What it'll be?" the waitress asked, returning with a glass of clear soda. Usually, I had tea, but I wasn't feeling like that today.

"One Fugly Burger, no lettuce," I said. "And could I get curly instead of regular fries?"

"Sure thing, sweetie," she said, jotting down my order and departing. I fished out my notebook and opened it to the picture I had drawn in class, frowning at it. I had made several others since, including one that was even more impractical than the first, but nothing felt right beyond the first one.

Still, I couldn't ignore the thought that the first one was simply designed for someone much more developed than I was. Wishful thinking, I guess. I flipped to another page, where I had started on one that used the first as a basis. The logo needed to stay, even though I knew it might draw a connection back to the incident the day I was trapped in the locker. That could draw attention to me.

I closed the book after making a few changes. It hardly mattered at the moment. My powers weren't suited for combat, so what was I going to do? Foresee someone blowing my brains out? As it was, pushing more than a few minutes ahead produced headaches that limited how far I could push my sight before the pain surpassed my focus. I considered that issue as I sat there and the waitress brought my meal over to me before something new struck me.

Mr. Gladly had done as I told him.

I frowned as I thought of that. That was true. He had. It had felt like he was resisting, at first, but I was stronger, as was proper, and he had given in. Could I do that? Make people do what I wanted?

"Heh," I shook my head. It wasn't likely, but I would have to test that. How, I wasn't sure, but it was something I could look into later. For now, I wanted to enjoy my lunch, then I could go shopping for some clothing. I took a drink from my glass, then flipped the notebook open and made another note about that before putting it away so I could enjoy my burger.

~~~~~~~~

A few of the cards had netted me enough cash to get started, and a bus trip later I was wandering through a clothing store at the central mall, making selections for the beginning of a new wardrobe. I held up a top and looked at it critically. This would go well with my eyes even if-

I frowned at it, my train of thought coming to a halt. Why was I picking this shirt out? The way the shirt scooped was for someone who had more of a chest than I did. It wouldn't have anywhere near the proper effect if I was wearing it. Irritated at my apparent daydreaming, I went through my choices and found that all of them were picked with that same style in mind.

"Damn," I muttered. "This is what I get for not paying attention. Maybe in a few years, I guess." I shoved them back onto their spots on the rack, retracing where I had got each one from flawlessly.

"Alright, let's try this again," I said as I began hunting through the racks again for choices that were better suited to my build. This proved to be harder than I expected, as everything I looked at seemed made for women with more up top than I had.

"Let me guess, nothing for your build?" a voice asked and I looked up from the rack I was surveying. A blonde was standing at the other side of the circular rack, waiting for a response. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place from where. Maybe one of Emma's cronies? No, she would have ignored or insulted me then.

"More or less," I replied warily, shrugging. "All of it is for women with more up top than I've got. Or more, well, anything." I pulled out a shirt that actually looked like it would be flattering, eyeing it with approval. Not a total waste, then.

"Good choice," she remarked, drawing my attention again. "The color will contrast with your hair… Oh! Here!" She turned around and then pulled a pair of jeans from a nearby rack. "These should match with it."

Who was this girl? I started to say something to discourage her, then glanced at the jeans she was holding out. Huh. They would go nicely with the top. I took them and nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

She waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Always happy to help someone with a good eye. What about this one as well?" A different shirt was held up and I give it a moment of contemplation before nodding.

"A bit darker than I like, but it should do," I tell her, then brighten. "Oh, here. You should try this." I take another look in her direction to confirm my guess as to her measurements and hold up a skirt from a nearby rack.

"Oh, that's a good one," she whistled appreciatively, then gave me a once over. "You've got a really good eye for this."

I shrug. "I'm making lucky guesses."

"No, no," she shook her head. "You really do have a good eye for fashion. I'm Vicky, by the way." She resumed her own searching, then glanced my way after a moment. I murmured a reply absently, finding a pair of skirts that I liked and holding them up to compare.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked. "Your name's Jean?"

"What?" I blinked at her. Where had she gotten that from? "No, my name's Taylor. It's nice to meet you, Vicky." I nodded in her direction and continued looking at the skirts, trying to decide which I wanted. Why not both?

She blinked as well, apparently expecting some other response from me. "The one on the left, I think."

"Are you sure?" I tilted my head. "It seems a bit short."

"Are you kidding?" Vicky countered. "If I'm not wrong, with your legs, it'll be amazing. Go try it on!" She glanced at it again, then selected a top. "And try this with it."

"Okay, okay," I said, letting her cajole me toward the dressing rooms. I looked around for a moment, but there was no one nearby. Probably not a setup from Emma then. Wouldn't put it past her to run the routine again where someone pretends to make friends with me. I ducked into the dressing area and changed quickly. I eyed the combination in the mirror inside the changing room for a moment. Vicky was right, they did go well together.

To my surprise, Vicky was still there when I emerged and she looked me up and down quickly. "Told you it would look good."

"I don't know," I began, biting my lip. If I did start wearing nicer things, wasn't that just going to give Emma and her flunkies more things to target?

"I do," she interrupted. "Just wearing those makes you seem like a different person than the lumpy sweater and jeans you had on before." She glanced down at my legs and looked thoughtful.

"We might need to find you some leggings, though. The skirt by itself in this weather wouldn't be the best idea." she said, looking around at the racks curiously. "This place doesn't have anything good for that, though. Oh, try these!" She pushed a pair of pants at me and I rolled my eyes before ducking back into the dressing room and changing again.

"Much better," Vicky said when I emerged. "Your legs won't turn blue now."

"Important things," I said, glancing at myself in the mirror a few times and eyeing how the pants fit.

"Exactly!" she said, almost pumping a fist in the air. "Good to know someone else gets it. I try and get my sister into better clothes, but she's usually being a stick in the mud. It was fun to have someone around who knows fashion as well as you do!"

"Thanks," I said. "It was nice." I blinked for a moment as I realized it really was. Being able to talk to someone without the issues that hung around where anyone from Winslow was involved. Whoever Vicky was, she didn't go to Winslow, I was certain of that.

"Well, we should do this again," she said, grinning. "My number's-"

"I don't have a cellphone," I said weakly.

"No problem!" Vicky said, producing a small notepad from a back pocket, along with a pen. She scribbled a couple of things down on it before tearing it free. "Here you go! I'm free most of the time. If I don't answer, though, just leave a message. I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Got it," I said, stunned as she gave a wave and departed with her own choices plus what I had suggested to her. I looked around for a moment, then started to duck back into the changing room for my old clothes.

I paused halfway. No. I had a week without Emma and whatever she planned to do when she came back, I had to counter that. I was going to start with this. No more shapeless clothes that don't fit. I was going to feel good about myself no matter what Emma and her flunkies did.

If they did start up again when she came back, well, I would just have to show her I wasn't going to tolerate her vendetta anymore. I gathered my old clothes from the dressing room and draped them over one arm while the things I was going to buy covered the other. A few more things to get from some other stores still, then I could head home. Feeling oddly elated, I headed toward the register to pay for my new clothes.

"Could I trouble you for some scissors?" I asked as I sat my clothes on the counter. The clerk passed them over and I snipped the tags free from the things I was wearing and added those to the pile. The purchases depleted a good portion of the money I had made off the cards, but as long as I didn't go over a certain amount or turn them in too close together, I could likely abuse them indefinitely.

I would need to space the others out more. One of the things they undoubtedly looked for was patterns and taking care not to develop anything consistent would be a good idea. The cashier read off the total to me and I handed over payment before gathering my bags and my old clothes up. The old clothes were consigned to the first trash can I could find before I started toward the next shop on my list.

~~~~~~~~

Dad was occupied in the kitchen and I was stretched out on the couch, idly making notes on my powers while the television was currently set to the news.

"And now, here's Michael Kelly with tonight's weather," the anchorwoman said, the camera feed shifting to a smiling man in his thirties.

"Lots of great news as far as our weather goes for Brockton Bay and the metro area," I muttered before he spoke, my power flashing ahead as I glanced toward the television.

"Predicting the weather now, Taylor?" My dad asked from behind the couch as he came in to hear what I had said and the weatherman repeat it verbatim.

"What? Oh, no. He opens with that when he's smiling, is all. He has like two opening lines that he cycles between. It's predictable, that's all." I reply, closing my notebook and stretch. "Dinner's ready?"

My dad closed his mouth, having been about to say something. "Yes, actually, I had been about to say that."

"You're getting predictable too," I grinned and stood up. "Or maybe I'm a seer, like the Oracle at Delphi. Shall I foresee dinner?" He laughed and headed back into the kitchen while I went to the dining table and began setting plates. A few minutes later and we were seated and enjoying a meal of lasagna and garlic bread.

"How's school going now?" he asked between bites.

"Looking up, I think," I said. "I don't have to deal with one of my problems for the next week and the new teacher seems to be pretty intolerant of bullying."

"You do seem in a better mood than usual. Meet anyone while you were out today?" he asked.

"Some girl named Vicky while I was at the mall," I replied absently between moments of enjoying the garlic bread. "She seemed nice and I got her number, so maybe we'll hang out again."

"It's good that you're making friends again," my dad said. "Does she go to Winslow?"

"No, or at least I've never seen her there if she does," I replied. "Maybe Arcadia? It didn't come up when we were talking." I made a mental note to use some money and get a cellphone. I know my dad didn't like them, but having one was a huge advantage.

"Could you take care of the dishes?" he asked when we were done. "I've got a couple of important meetings early tomorrow and need to turn in."

"Happy to," I answered and began to gather up the plates as he went upstairs. I filled one of the sinks with hot water and began submerging the plates and silverware. The leftovers were packed away then I went back to the sink and reached in to start.

The water rippled suddenly and splashed upward, soaking the front of my shirt and leaving suds clinging to me. Spluttering, I peered down at the water and brushed aside the suds, showing the point of a knife pressed against the skin of my wrist. More precisely, against the shield that I had.

"Huh," I said, then shook my head. "Lucky I didn't cut myself." I fished the knife out and cleaned it, then rinsed and sat it aside to dry. I resumed working on the rest, my thoughts shifting to the other aspect of my powers that I hadn't given much consideration to. The force field or aura didn't have a limit that I could tell, but I wasn't really inclined to try testing that, especially by myself. I had been using my precognition at school to avoid being pushed or to avoid things thrown at me.

Having spitballs stop bounce off a mostly invisible field that surrounded me would be a pretty obvious indicator that I had powers. Thankfully, having my precog on throughout the day when at Winslow let me avoid most of the physical attempts and had been helpful in forestalling the verbal ones also. I would need to figure out a way to test it. Maybe I could get a basketball and throw it at the wall in the basement really hard so it bounces back at me? Something to consider later.

I finished the dishes and drained the sink, rinsing away the suds and wiping down any surfaces where sauce or crumbs remained. A survey of the kitchen showed nothing else in need of attention and I flipped off the lights before heading back to the living room. There might be some television on that I could use as background noise while I worked on possible sketches of what would eventually be my costume.

My backpack still sat by the couch and I fished out some colored pencils and sat them to the side, flipping to that first picture from class. The pose was pretty simple, arms out to the sides and slightly swept upward. Nothing for features yet, but I selected a color from the pencil case and began filling in the sketch while watching the late show.

"My first guest tonight's new movie will be coming out next week," the host said, an elderly white-haired man. "Please give a warm welcome to John Stewart!"

A broad-shouldered man strode out onto the stage, greeting the host while I half-listened to their banter. I took my eyes from the screen, focusing more on the drawing as green started to fill in most of the torso, except for the emblem on the chest.

This had been after the shuttle crash.

I switched colors once I finished the collar of the outfit, starting on the symbol on the chest, then the sash, gloves and boots. Soon enough metallic gold dominated the lesser features, and I surveyed the finished product.

"Still a bit ostentatious," I mused, tilting the sketch left, then right. "And what would it even be made of? It doesn't look like it would offer any protection at all…" I glanced up toward the mostly featureless face, tapping my pencil on the edge of the paper.

"And where is the mask?" I said aloud. "My first impression was right, this is for someone who isn't worried about retaliation or a civilian identity at all."

I flipped to a blank page and retrieved a black pencil. Oh well, nothing I needed to worry about now. I wasn't planning to go out any time soon and I certainly wasn't going to do it wearing that. Another guest was introduced on the talk show and I briefly glanced up to see who it was before letting the pencil glide across the paper.

Commercials were running when I looked at the result of my drawing. This one had a mask that covered part of the face, but the rest was even more impractical than the first thing I had drawn. It was little more than a green summer dress with a belt just above the hips. The boots stopped below the knees, so they were at least less restricting than the boots of the first sketch, but they had heels. Gloves that reached to mid forearm completed the ensemble and I eyed it critically, my attention drifting back to the mask. It covered the upper half of the face, sure, but the eye holes were so large that it might as well have not.

"I guess with my shield, it might not be a bad idea," I mused, considering how little protection this offered.. "It can block bullets, at least." I stared at it for a moment more, then shook my head.

"No, this one isn't going to work, either," I filled in color for the dress, green again, with yellow for the boots, gloves and mask. A turn of the page and I started on another sketch while a third guest appeared on the show and they began talking about something inane.

I let the show turn to background noise again, contemplating the lines of the next sketch. This one seemed to have more armor, but lacked a mask. I eyed the blue and gold of this outfit critically. More of a one piece, like a bodysuit and some of sections were clearly armored.

"Better," I mused, eyeing the reinforced sections thoughtfully. At some point, for this one, I had decided that some armor helped against stabbings if someone got around my shield. Why hadn't I learned what a mask was yet, though?

"Ugh," I closed the sketchbook, yawning. "Doesn't matter anyway, not like I have any power I could really go out in costume with." Stretching, I returned the book to my backpack, switched off the television and headed toward my bedroom. Tomorrow, maybe I would look at it again. Now, though, it had been a long day.

My dreams were filled with stars.

---

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Chapter 791 - firebird (1 - 4)