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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:29,965

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 9: Interlude - Sophia & Madison

Chapter Text

There was something wrong.

The thought came to her once again as she sat in one of the classes she shared with Hebert, watching as she exchanged words with a pair of new girls. Chatted with them amicably, comfortably.

It was wrong. Not just the difficulty finding opportunities for putting her in her place, but the entire environment. Students were talking to her, she was making friends, being more outgoing. Nothing like the wilting little flower that shied away from any social contact for fear of being burned. Or like a puppy that cringed whenever someone was near, thinking it would be kicked.

Emma had been suspended and the others given detention. She had avoided that by not being present, but had heard all about how the mouse had snapped at her from Emma. There were the moments where she had tried to remind Hebert of her place, only for the girl to avoid it by the narrowest of margins and then give her this look. Like she had seen it coming and the only reason she didn't retaliate was that she was bored.

It was wrong. And with Emma absent and the other girls quaking in fear thanks to detentions with that new teacher, who was military or something, she was sure. He tried hiding it with clothes, but the way he moved… it screamed do not cross to her, so she did her best to avoid him, which was harder than she thought. He seemed to be everywhere and she had narrowly avoided him catching trying to push Hebert around several times already.

No, there was something definitely wrong, she thought as she watched Taylor carrying on talking, eyeing the way she moved. Self-assured, confident. A complete reversal from the way she had been before. Was it because of the locker? She bit her lip, considering that possibility. Had the pathetic little mouse grown a spine because of that? Or something else?

Her mind flashed back to that incident, thinking of the panic that had filled her when she saw the PRT vans arriving at the school. Of the questioning all the students had gotten and the observation she knew was on her. Hebert had ratted, she was certain at first, but as days passed and no action was taken against her, she became unsure.

Taylor's attitude change came in the wake of that, as she was more outspoken and intolerant of their actions, of the teachers. Then that teacher arrived and it had only gotten worse. It was almost like she had become another person.

What if she had triggered and gained powers? The very idea made her want to snort. As if that worthless girl could ever do that. No. Something or someone was reinforcing her, giving her the idea that she was something more than a spineless victim. Sophia crushed her juice box and tossed it in the trash, stalking out of the cafeteria. Whatever the cause, she wasn't stupid. Something had changed and she needed more information before she took any sort of action.

Emma was still out and she hadn't heard from her since the weekend. Her dad had been planning to meet with the teacher, but she hadn't heard how that had gone yet.

I'll go by her place after school and see how she's doing, Sophia thought. They could work out a plan to deal with Taylor then. Whatever spine the mouse thought she was developing, they would break it. She glanced around, noting the students sporting Empire colors that gave her dirty looks.

Whatever they did would likely need to be soon. The way the gangs were carrying on wasn't something that the authorities would overlook for long and if there was more official attention, they wouldn't be able to do anything. She ignored the gang members and kept walking, heading down to a stairwell that saw little use. It was one of the places she liked to ambush Hebert at, since it went all the way to the roof and the mouse used to like hiding there for lunches..

Now, though, it served quite well for what she needed; a storage space. Looking upward, she

couldn't hear anyone in the stairwell so she ducked under the lower stairs, nudging aside the cover to an air duct. The dim light was a hindrance for a moment as she felt around, then her hand closed on the familiar shape of her crossbow.

Smuggling it in had been fairly easy, just showing up early under the pretense of track practice and she had been able to get it inside. After that, a quick trip through the school and she had been able to stash this here, along with some other things in case she ran into any trouble with the Empire. Slipping it into her backpack, with some books around it to conceal its shape, she left the stairwell, feeling substantially more secure than before.

Other than some glares, she didn't have any issues with the gang members through the rest of the day. She made a few attempts to rough Taylor up when there was no one around, but they ended the same way everything she had tried recently did, with Hebert looking bored and stepping out of the way flawlessly, like she had seen it coming.

The thought crossed her mind, again, that perhaps she had, that she had gained powers. But it was crushed just as ruthlessly. It couldn't be that. But why did the thought keep coming back? Sophia frowned as she left Winslow, angling off toward the bus stop that would take her near Emma's. The thought hit her as she waited, the realization of at least part of what was setting off her nerves with the change in Taylor's behavior and how she was evading everything Sophia tried.

Abnormal. That was what it was. Taylor hadn't even looked at her until after she had avoided being shoved or hit. Sophia had enough experience moving silently that she knew the other girl hadn't even known she was there. And she still avoided with uncanny ease. Sophia let a growl escape as she thought of how Hebert had looked at her.

Her fingers drummed on her knee as she thought about that. How dare that stupid little mouse look at her like that, like she thought she was better? She kicked the back of the empty seat in front of her, wishing she had someone to hit.

No. She had to be calm about this. Whatever the mouse was up to, this was probably part of it. Sophia took a deep breath, considering the last instance, trying to corner her in the stairs and how she had taken a step to the right just before her hand would have struck, leaving her grasping at air.

Like she had known it was coming. She wondered again whether Taylor had gotten some sort of powers as she reached up and tapped the signal for getting the driver to stop. She didn't think so, but Emma had known her longer. Maybe she could help her figure this out. Was this how she had acted before? The first time Sophia had met her had been outside Emma's house and there was no sign of the person she was seeing now that she recalled.

The walk the rest of the way to Emma's house passed unnoticed and she found herself knocking when the door was locked. Odd, but maybe Mr. Barnes was pissed over Emma being suspended. A moment passed, then another and she heard the door being unlatched and Mr. Barnes was there, looking exhausted and, for a moment, she thought, angry. But it was so fast that she wasn't sure

"Hi, Mr. Barnes," she said, waving a hand in greeting. "Can I come in? I wanted to talk to Emma about some stuff."

He didn't say anything for a long moment before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid Emma isn't feeling well at the moment, Sophia. She came down with yesterday and has spent most of today asleep. I don't know if it's contagious, but I trust you don't want to catch anything. You've got a track meet this weekend, don't you?"

She nodded slowly, frowning a bit. "I do. Well, let her know I came by and to call me when she's feeling better, okay?"

"I'll let her know," Mr. Barnes said, nodding before he closed the door. Sophia stood there for a moment and then grimaced, walking away. All the way out here for nothing. She kicked a rock along the sidewalk and glanced up toward Emma's window. The curtains were drawn and it was dark, showing no signs of her friend.

"Sick, is she?" Sophia said aloud, shoving her hands into her pockets and fishing out her personal phone. She tapped out a message and sent it off, waiting for a response as she kept walking. By the time she reached the bus stop and settled on the bench to wait, she was still waiting and she was about to put the phone away in disgust when it buzzed in her hand

She blinked in surprise, before she flipped it open again.

-Dad unhappy, got low-down from Singer, banned from everything, grounded.

Sophia stared at the message. Banned? Because of that teacher? What the hell did Singer say to her dad?

-What did he say?

-Had copy of everything said to Hebert, plus some other stuff. Didn't see all. g2g.

Shutting the screen off, Sophia climbed onto the bus as it arrived, seething. The teacher. Writing down everything they said? Because stupid Hebert hadn't had the sense to accept her place?

Her eyes narrowed and she almost swore. That was it. Hebert must have whined to him, convinced him to intercede with some sob story. Then he'd cracked down on Emma and fed the same line of nonsense to Mr. Barnes.

Her knuckles whitened from the pressure as she gripped the side of her chair. Hebert. It kept coming back to Hebert.

~~~~~~~~

Detention, Madison Clements, thought, sucked.

Why did I ever think it was a good idea to hang out with those two? She finished the last of her homework assignments for the day. At least the detention hour was good for that, because otherwise she would be bored out of her mind.

The entire association with those two was supposed to be a good thing. Emma was popular, a model and Sophia the star of the track team. A bit rough around the edges, but Emma was smoothing those away. Associating with them let her steal some of the shine from the two of them without eclipsing them.

But the longer she had associated with them, the more she had wondered about this. Sure, she got the benefits of popularity, but the more she had gone along, the less satisfied she was with the whole arrangement.

Not that either of them noticed. If there was one thing she was good at it, it was presenting the face she wanted people to see. All Emma and Sophia saw was the girl all too willing to help them in their campaign of terror against Taylor Hebert.

And what a waste of time that was. It was like the two of them thought of nothing else but making her life miserable. What was even the point? She didn't know what the girl had done to offend them so, but it helped distance Madison Clements from other things, so she went along with it.

All minor, stupid things that looked more impressive than they really were. But they kept Taylor distracted by their sheer pettiness that she was often blindsided by the more severe actions of Emma and Sophia.

Now, however, Emma's efforts to torment Taylor had backfired. The new teacher had thrown everything on its head and with Sophia brooding, Madison had opportunity to simply observe how things had changed. The gangs were out in force, making a show of… something. Maybe related to that incident the day of the locker stunt.

That incident perplexed her. The most likely candidate for a parahuman awakening would have been Taylor, but other than an attitude change, she hadn't shown any sort of abilities that Madison had noticed. Her change of attitude wasn't the only thing. Her appearance too. She was wearing nice clothes, and looking comfortable in them.

It was odd. She wasn't carrying herself the way she had before. Most of the awkward, not comfortable in her own skin state she had carried before. Taylor Hebert moved like someone comfortable with her own body. Mostly.

Madison didn't think anyone else had noticed and she certainly wasn't going to tell them if they hadn't, but there were moments that she seemed awkward, as if she was expecting her reach to be different. It was just moments here or there. Reaching for a pen and fumbling it as if her fingers weren't the right proportions.

It was something Madison was familiar with, which made her wonder about Taylor Hebert. Whatever the case, Taylor's sudden shift in attitude had affected the dynamics among the school, when coupled with the Professor's crackdown. Taylor was already several steps beyond the school pariah, with new students socializing with her and displaying no fear of anyone.

Emma, Madison realized, was going to have a rude surprise when she returned from her suspension.

"Are you finished, Ms. Clements?" Professor Singer's voice rang out and she blinked, realizing that the other students sharing detention were gone.

"Yes, sir," she said, gathering her papers. "Everything is done and I have my homework finished."

"Good," he said. "You may go then. I'm sure your parents are waiting for you." Madison nodded, but didn't say anything as she left, merely glancing toward the Professor as he raised an arm and began cleaning off the board behind him. After a second, she shook her head and left.

Her parents were not, as Professor Singer thought, waiting for her. They were never waiting for her. Business and choice kept them away and other than a monthly stipend, she only heard from them if they were going to be in town and they needed her for dinner or a party. Otherwise, she was left to take care of herself with the money they sent.

Her phone buzzed as she walked out and she slipped it out of her jacket, eyeing the number displayed before sighing. A moment of concentration and she pushed answer.

"Yes?"

"You're late for patrol."

"I was held up. Couldn't be helped. I'll be on my way shortly."

"I'll meet you when you arrive." The line went dead and she rolled her eyes, making a beeline for her car. She had turned sixteen early in the year and was rewarded with a car from her parents. She loosened the knot of her scarf and tossed it into the passenger seat after she was in the driver's seat. The parking lot was mostly empty and so no one noticed or paid any attention as she leaned the seat back, pulling a blanket from the back over herself in case anyone did happen by.

A bit of effort and she tucked the clothes she had been wearing into a bag, switching into something more comfortable for what she was about to do. She preemptively flipped down the mirror, staring at her reflection as it changed.

It was automatic as she leaned down, gripping the lever to push the seat back so it would accommodate the extra space she was going to need. Habit drove her to tilt the steering wheel as well, her grip changing as she no longer had to worry about her fingernails getting in the way. One hand reached up to adjust the rear view mirror, meeting the reflection that was there, of a teenage male with a vaguely asian cast to his features where before there had been a petite blonde teenage girl.

Starting the car, he backed out and drove off, still pondering the school situation. If his reading was right, things were going to change and the new rising star didn't like Madison at all. But that was all right. Madison was used to becoming exactly what she needed to be to fit in. She had a lot of practice with that.

He parked his car on a floor in the parking complex that faced out toward the bay and finished changing into her uniform, knowing she was probably going to get reprimanded for being late, despite the reasons why. An amused smirk appeared on his face as he thought about that. The smirk quickly faded as she found her boss waiting for her on the transport over to the rig.

She snapped to attention, offering a salute as a gesture of respect. "Browbeat reporting for duty, ma'am!"

---

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Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Comments Hide Creator's Style Share Download

Work Header

Rating:

Not Rated

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:29,966

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 10: Interlude - Three Lines

Chapter Text

Armsmaster rubbed his chin as he regarded the paused recording of Sophia Hess' interrogation. It had taken a bit for the agents to get her to talk, but once she had, it had been informative, though he was sure that there was a great deal of dross obscuring what he really wanted to know.

Which is why he was in the middle of reviewing the entire interrogation for anything worthwhile. He rubbed at his chin again, a grimace appearing on his face. Dragon's formula that let him grow a new beard quickly was something he still wasn't used to. It itched.

"I've been clean-shaven too long," he muttered, reaching for the controls to restart the recording.

"You look strange without a beard, sir," a voice said and he turned toward the speaker, raising an eyebrow at the muscular asian boy standing at attention.

"Your opinion is noted," he said drily. "I assume that means you figured it out on the first day, then?"

"I wouldn't think of suggesting that shaving your beard was an inadequate disguise, sir," Browbeat said.

"Have a seat, if you would," he said, tapping some the controls. The monitor that had shown a frozen picture of an angry Sophia Hess, blanked and was replaced by the standard desktop interface.

"Yes, sir," was the steady reply and the shapeshifting Ward seated himself. He waited until he was settled down and tapped in a command. A faint hum filled the room and he nodded slightly. There, the room was secured against external access or recording.

"You're here to tell me about your little shell game on Friday," he began, glad that his beard hid a smile as he openly radiated surprise in response to his statement. "Before that, though, were you aware that Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker?"

"No, sir," he said. "When Miss Militia came and spoke to me earlier, that was the first I had heard of it. Emma might have known, but I had no idea."

"I see," Armsmaster's eyes flicked to the left of his suit's HUD as it signified that he was telling the truth. "You took the weapons that had been planted in Hebert's locker and moved them to Hess's. Why?"

His form shifted from the familiar figure of Browbeat to the one he had seen only rarely before beginning his investigation at Winslow. She shifted awkwardly, crossing her arms as the clothing did not quite fit her smaller frame.

A thought for developing a material that could adjust size automatically crossed his mind. There had been some nano-fiber that Dragon had acquired. Perhaps it could be repurposed to provide her with clothing that adjusted to accommodate her unique situation?

He shook his head, banishing the thought for now. That could be pursued later. The systems in his helmet tracked a series of muscle movements along his jaw, translating it into a note that it stored for later.

"I... " she looked uncertain for a moment, which prompted him to give her his full attention. He knew her background and personality well enough that seeing her like this warranted more focus."I don't know, sir. At first… I thought…"

Maybe I should invent a time machine so I can go back and tell myself not to get involved with teenage high school politics. He nodded slightly, however, making a motion with one hand. "You thought…?"

Madison stared at the screen for a moment as the command he had sent by gesturing triggered a video from one of his cameras, showing her taking the duffel bag from one locker and placing it in another.

"I don't know what I thought, sir," she said quietly. "It didn't seem right, though, what she was setting Taylor up for."

"We've already discussed your previous activities and the things you've aided her in doing to Ms. Hebert in the past," he pointed out, letting his voice harden. "Why does this differ, from say, the locker?"

"I had nothing to do with that," she said defensively. "I didn't even know they were planning that and I wasn't there when they set it up, or did it."

"True," he said. "That doesn't answer my question. Why does this differ from anything else you've helped set Taylor Hebert up for, such as the locker?"

"I didn-"

"By your own admission back in January, you were harassing her with small, petty things that kept her attention on those so she didn't see the big things coming," he said ruthlessly. "So, whether you didn't plant the filth in the locker or helped push her in, you still helped by doing that."

Madison looked frustrated and shifted in the chair, her hands curling around her biceps. "You're right. I did help them do a lot of bad things to here. I guess… I wanted to make it up to her somehow?"

"So, you decided to move the weapons from Hebert's locker to Hess's locker," he said. "Did she admit any of her plan to you?"

"No," she shook her head. "She was always closer to Emma than anyone else. I heard about what had happened on Thursday with Sophia and Taylor and I know her well enough that I figured she would try something, so I kept an eye out."

"Why not simply bring them to me?" he asked, frowning. "That could have prevented this entire debacle."

Madison looked at the looping footage of herself on the screen. "I might not have shoved her in the locker, but as you said, I still helped. Bringing them to you never even occurred to me. When I overhead the teachers talking about the threat called in, I figured it would be appropriate that it blow up in her face like by having the weapons be found in her locker."

He stared for a moment. "You wanted to try and make amends with this?" She didn't answer, merely ducking her head down and he sighed. "You know this doesn't really solve any of the issues since she has no idea, if that is what you hoped for."

"That doesn't matter, sir," she said firmly. "It was the right thing to do. It doesn't matter that she doesn't know."

He eyed her for a moment, his systems reading the statement as truth. "You can come off monitor duty after next week."

"Anything that I can help with, sir?" Madison asked, shifting back to her Browbeat form. He grimaced and considered the question.

"Taylor Hebert," he said finally. "Your recent impressions of her?"

Madison said nothing for a moment. "After the locker, Emma and Sophia expected her to be even more beaten down, if she came back at all. But she was different. Before it, they… we had ground her down to where she flinched at shadows. After it… it was like night and day. She was confident, assured of herself. She… well, she wasn't confident in a lot of ways before hand. Self-image, for one. But that changed. It was little things at first, the way she held herself, the way she talked."

"Go on," he said, making notes on his tablet.

"The day she got into it with Gladly," Madison continued, feeling her cheeks color, "I had thrown spitballs at her and that was the first time I noticed it. She just leaned to the side and they hit the boy in front of her without even looking or having any way to know I had launched them."

"Spitballs," he said, shaking his head even as he made a note about her mention of the teacher. "This was after the locker, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Madison murmured.

"There's a presentation coming up where they've requested a Ward to come and speak with some difficult students at the Woodland Hills facility." he said, pulling up a schedule and adding her to it. "Browbeat will be attending, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," Madison agreed with a grimace. The facility was a juvenile detention center for some of the repeat offenders and generally an unpleasant experience when a Ward had to try and speak with the students, as the state insisted they be called. "I stopped after that. I wanted to observe and figure out what I was seeing. She hadn't seemed comfortable in her own skin before. I figured it was just growing, but I know the signs, as you might imagine."

"Quite," he nodded.

"But it was like over night that she moved different, more comfortable with herself," she continued. "That was confusing as changes like that don't happen so quickly. There wasn't anything else I could identify though. For a bit, I thought it was like she was a different person. After a while, I just saw Taylor, though a lot more assertive. She countered Emma's remarks, as you saw yourself. Sophia's attempts at pushing her around were avoided. Something had changed and I laid off."

Armsmaster nodded and looked at the clock. "Write it up for me so I can review your thoughts in depth. There won't, I trust, be any further instances of Madison Clements behaving in this fashion, I take it?"

"No, sir," she said. "I… I am sorry, sir."

"You're wasting your breath telling me that," he said gruffly. "Before you go, though. You mentioned Mr. Glady and Taylor getting into an argument? Can you elaborate?

She blinked at the change of topic. "She insulted him in class when he bought into my blaming her for shooting spitballs at the boy in front of her, then walked out when he told her she was going to the Principal's office. He followed her and came back a few minutes later. He seemed a bit distracted, but Mr. Gladly was always a bit out there."

"I see," Armsmaster made another note on his tablet. "Go on then, you have monitor duty, still."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded and quietly left. He sat there for a moment after she had departed, staring at the expression the recording had paused on Sophia Hess' face on as he brought the file back up and thought about the issues he spent most of his time on lately. He eyed the list of reports he still needed to look over, including one from Gallant. Too many to deal with right now.

"Even if I did develop a time machine," he muttered, blanking the screen. "It wouldn't erase my other problems." He considered what Madison had mentioned about Mr. Gladly following after Taylor. Hannah might have been on to something, after all. It did line up neatly with when an opening had let him step in as his replacement. They had already thought about the teacher's condition as a result of a Master effect. Perhaps it was something to examine more in-depth?

The thoughts were arrested as he entered Piggot's office. To his surprise, it was unusually composed. Typically, her desk was covered with papers involving a thousand different issues. Now, everything was neatly stacked and Emily Piggot was sitting upright.

Her features looked paler than yesterday and he made a note to see about implementing a new system for her that would help her health issues more. There were a few things he could do that would make it more efficient and reduce the strain such a system had on the body. Perhaps this time she would actually make use of one of his offerings.

"Director," he said, settling into the too-small chair in front of her desk.

"Armsmaster," she said, in deference to the fact that he was suited. "Now that you're here, I can inform you that Ms. Hess, after being thoroughly educated on her options, has accepted probationary membership into the Wards program, effective immediately."

"Director," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I feel admitting her into the Wards would be a serious misstep. The girl is temperamental, potentially unbalanced. She would be a disruptive to any of the team dynamics we foster among the Wards, to say nothing of the potential issues that could arise if Taylor Hebert takes what she knows and makes it public."

"Ms. Hebert's actions are not my concern," she held a hand up. "Your opinion on her potential status as a parahuman has been noted, but I disagree. Ms. Hess' clearly biased rantings cannot be accepted as evidence to the contrary. As to the other, that is a non-issue as I am in agreement."

"You are?" he blinked, surprised.

"Indeed," she said, smiling slightly. "I've initiated the paperwork for a transfer out to New York. The director there has staff used to working with difficult cases. Her mother was… less than pleased to learn about her daughter's activities and has agreed, though she is reluctant to relocate herself. Sophia will have residency at the Protectorate dormitories and direct oversight from a member there to ensure her behavior."

"Her mother didn't contest?" he asked. "And I must say, I don't know that this is the best course of action

"Mother and daughter do not see eye to eye," was her reply. "It won't be an issue. I agree, for the most part, but I was overruled. For what reason, I don't know. The girl would be incarcerated until she straightened up if I were making the final decision."

"Are we getting anyone in exchange?" he asked, frowning a bit at her words.

"There are several candidates," Piggot waved dismissively. "I've emailed them to you. Look them over and submit your suggestions. Or have Miss Militia do it, if you are bent on continuing your absurd investigation."

He grimaced, but was careful to not let it show. "It will be seen to."

"Good," she took some of the papers down from a stack and began sorting through them. "Now that we've settled those issues, we need to go over the current status of the gangs. You've been… busy, but there's rumors beginning to circulate that Lung is looking to recruit…"

~~~~~~~~

I was rid of Sophia.

The thought made me want to throw my arms up and cheer out loud. It had cost me a headache Friday night that took a while to go away, but I had been able to see what I would find out if I went snooping in the office at Winslow. She was being withdrawn due to moving out of the area.

They had apparently shipped her off somewhere. I thought about trying to figure out where but I decided I really didn't care in the end. Sophia was gone. That was enough. I still had to deal with one problem. Emma. But that could wait until Monday.

Maybe two problems. I didn't know what was going on with Madison and I wasn't sure I cared, but ignoring things hadn't worked, so maybe it was something I would have to keep an eye out for.

Right now, though, I was simply enjoying the weekend while I navigated the rows of tiny shops. I had my hair tucked up in a cap and an old coat on. The sky was mostly clear, but it was colder than usual, enough that the heavy coat fought off the chill quite nicely.

That it also hid the backpack I was wearing, though there wasn't much in it at the moment. My notebook and most of the money I had put away. I knew what I was going to do with it now. If I could find the place I was looking for. It wasn't a bad neighborhood, with rows of small shops, but it wasn't far from some less pleasant areas.

I guess it made rent cheap, which is why she had it here, I guessed. But there were a lot of different shops here. Antiques, craft shops. They were all starting to blend together when I saw the stylized doll's face sign that was her mark.

I took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the door handle, pushing the old latch down and going inside. The interior was filled with bolts of cloth stacked haphazardly as well as stacks of loose fabric, along with several projects that I thought were in progress. I walked through the narrow aisles, eyeing the unfinished works appreciatively.

"May I help you?" a soft voice asked, carrying a note of curiosity in its question. I turned, my eyes widening at the figure in front of me not being who I had expected. She was dark-skinned, with black hair. Middle-eastern, maybe? I wasn't sure. She was wearing a cream colored dress, belted at the waist, with a scarf wound around her neck loosely. When she had spoken, it was with a pleasant accent that I couldn't quite place

"Ah, yes!" I said quickly when I realized I was staring. "I was hoping I could buy something?"

She shook her head slightly. "Parian can't take any more commissions at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Oh, no," I said. "I just need some fabric. I can work it myself easily enough." I looked around at the piles of fabric, resisting the urge to start feeling the different fabrics I could see around me to find out which would work best..

She didn't say anything for a moment as she looked at me, giving me the feeling she was expecting more out of me and no hint of what she was thinking as I shifted my feet. "Um, I have money?"

"You're a seamstress?" she asked, turning to look over some of the fabric stacked around the room.

"I'm still learning," I admitted. "It's something I enjoy and wanted to learn more about. Designing clothes, I mean."

She smiled slightly. "What are you looking for?"

"Something sturdy, that can hold up to a lot of constant use or wear and tear," I said. "In black, grey and some gold or as close to gold as you might have in yellows."

"Rather specific," she observed. "I think we might have something that works for you though." She turned to look at me intently. "Reinforced fabric is expensive though. It's not exactly cheap to make or buy...."

"I have money," I said again, expecting as much. She half-smiled and inclined her head before slipping through a curtained partition to the back of the store. I paced around the room, wishing I had thought of a better way to do this before I entered. This didn't look shady at all.

"I am so stupid," I muttered to myself, testing the texture of a skein of yarn with two fingers while I waited for her to come back.

"Will this do?" her voice said a few minutes later as she emerged bearing a bolt of undyed fabric. "It'll need to be dyed, but it fits what you wanted."

I touched the fabric, rubbing it between my fingers for a moment. "This is perfect, thank you!"

"I do have some dyes that I can offer you as well, since it isn't pre-dyed," she remarked. I nodded, digging around behind my back so I could get at my money. The young woman watched me do so, apparently amused by my contortions.

Five minutes later, the backpack was heavier and my money was significantly reduced, but I had what I needed to start designing. It was going to take a bit to make since I wanted it to be perfect and my sewing skills were rusty. The heavier weight on my back did nothing to diminish my good mood as I made my way toward the bus stop so I could get home and get started.

~~~~~~~~

"I'm telling you the stupid bitch has powers! She sees things or some bullshit like that! She did this to me!"

"Ms. Hess, please stay focused, we're discussing September twenty-fifth of last year right now, not Ms. Hebert,"

"Fuck yo-"

A click of the mouse froze the recording and the blonde girl leaned back in her chair, staring at the two open computer monitors in front of her. One showed a surly-looking black girl being interrogated, the other a transcript of that same recording, complete with notes from the interviewers.

Believes that the girl she hates is a parahuman, precognitive or able to shift luck. The conclusion came in a flash as she skimmed over the words. Her hands froze over the keyboard for a moment before one moved to the mouse and brought up another pair of screens; one with a dark haired girl, caught from a parking lot security camera as she was running, clutching a damaged backpack to her chest. The other, a file with everything she knew about the girl.

Assaulted. Her power told her as she stared at the picture, drawing conclusions from her panicked posture. Just behind her, indistinct, she thought she could make out two prone figures. Muggers. Sought to mug the girl, she escaped. Some sort of power enabled her escape?

Lisa Wilbourne clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. She needed something else, something more. She brought up another video, one her employer had provided over a week ago. The same girl, disguised, but poorly, entering a run-down convenience store. The clerk was an inattentive young man, likely stoned out of his mind, who permitted her to purchase several lottery cards.

She watched her eye the cards intently, before choosing spots to scratch off. Precognitive, or able to shift probabilities in her favor; knew where to scratch to achieve the results she wanted.

Lisa took her hands away from the keyboard, putting her face in her hands with a muttered profanity. She had to report this to him.

"I have been watching you for some time, Lisa Wilbourne, I have become aware that you are something special, and I would like to buy your services."

She exhaled as the words came to her mind again. Do what he says or eat a gun was what they really meant. But he kept a watch on her even so. If she didn't report this, he would know. He always did, somehow.

She picked up the phone by the keyboard and tapped one of the contacts, staring at the picture of the girl and committing it to memory.

"Sorry about this," she said quietly. "Maybe I'll be able to make it up to you somehow…"

The phone rang three times before he answered.

"I have information for you, boss."

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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:29,966

Firebird

chibipoe

Chapter 11: Dreaming 2.1

Chapter Text

February 25th, 2011, 12:34 AM.

The door refused to cooperate for a moment and Colin grimaced, too weary to even manage more than smacking his shoulder against the wood. That worked, however and he stumbled into his house, letting the case containing his equipment drop once the door was closed. A glance toward the green letters of the clock told him the time, fifteen hours earlier than where he had just been.

He stumbled toward the kitchen, grabbing a container of milk from the refrigerator. The containment systems had actually held everything inside perfectly preserved from all outward appearances. Though he had detected unusual amounts of what he had dubbed chronoton radiation in all of them and opted to simply dispose of them safely rather than test what the effects of being held in temporal stasis had on the food.

The attachment that had powered it was now settled in a corner of his lab for further study at a later date. He twisted the cap off and drank the contents in one quick motion, ignoring as some of it overflowed and dribbled down his chin.

It was a poor substitute for what he wanted right now, which was to get roaringly drunk. There was work to be done in the morning and he couldn't afford to engage in alcohol consumption. Especially given the situation he had just arrived from. Impaired judgement was already an issue and adding the effects of being inebriated on top of coming from a Simurgh battle was simply unacceptable.

The milk carton was tossed in the recycling and he wiped his chin with shirt. It needed to be washed anyway, so it was easier than grabbing a towel. He rested his hands on the counter in the middle of his kitchen, closing his eyes in an effort to shake away the vestiges of the fight. She had been driven off thanks to the efforts of Legend and Eidolon, but there was the usual worry that whatever her goal had been, they would find out later, and at the worst moment for everyone.

The casualties had been low, so that was good, but he had attended enough fights to know that wasn't truly a good thing. Colin pushed away from the counter with a disgusted sound. There was little else he could do right now. That battle was over and he was home. Resting sounded like a good idea. Tomorrow, he could visit his lab after school and work on-

The phone he had left on the stand in the hall was beeping and he stalked over to it, answering the call with a tap of a finger.

"It's me," he said brusquely.

"Colin," Dragon's voice said, sounding as weary as he felt. "Are you well?"

"Just tired," he said, moving to the living room and dropping onto the couch. He switched the phone to speaker and began unlacing his boots. "I could sleep for a couple of days."

"You're at your house," she replied. "Are you sure it's wise to be alone now?"

"Probably not," he shrugged, even though she had no way to see it. "I can process everything better in solitude though."

She was silent for a moment. "Get some rest, Colin. Don't spend the night obsessing over what happened yesterday."

"I don't intend to," he agreed. "Too much to do tomorrow. Get some rest yourself."

"I will," she said, sounding as amused as she always did when he made that suggestion to her. The phone went dark as she ended the connection and he pulled his boots off one at a time, then peeled his socks off. Dragon was right. He should rest. Tomorrow would be better. Perhaps. He rubbed his feet for a moment, then stood and started toward the shower.

Tomorrow would be better, he was sure.

* * *

Tomorrow, he decided, was not better. He had barely slept and was on his second ridiculously sweet product that claimed it was coffee with a third waiting in the wings. He was thankful for the glasses he had decided to wear. Even though he hadn't drunk any alcohol, he felt like he had. The glasses didn't actually do anything to aid in his vision, but they did have a solution that adjusted the tint according to the amount of light around him, which did wonders with the headache he was feeling.

They did not, unfortunately, have a sound baffle, which would be a great value if it protected him from having to hear another word from the principal, who was, he decided, quite shrewish. He took another sip from his cup as she drew breath to continue her tirade.

"Absolutely unacceptable," she said. "That's what this is. You simply chose not to show up yesterday with no warning or arrangements for a substitute and now you stumble in, a day later, looking a wreck. I should have your job for this. What sort of impression are you giving, coming after having obviously spent the day drunk and being of no use to anyone."

He took another sip from his cup, looking at her. Her expression grew frustrated and she slammed a hand on the desk. "Do you have anything to say?"

Colin sighed, his patience at an end. "I've been taking note of how just how incapable you are at your job, you realize?"

"I don't know-," she began, looking affronted.

"I could write a book about what you don't know," he interrupted with the slightest touch of a condescending tone, taking another sip of his coffee. "That's neither here nor there, though. I've seen how you've not done your job. Quite frankly, I'm surprised no one else has."

"If you think you can just stand there-" Blackwell began.

He cut her off. "I could sit, if you prefer? Let me explain how this is going to work. I'm going to go to my class, dismiss whatever incompetent you've situated there and teach those students. It took a bit of searching, but I was able to find some interesting discrepancies in where both the school's budget and the PRT allotment for hosting a Ward is being spent. Would you like me to itemize them?"

Color fled her face. "You couldn't possibl-"

"I could and have. Now, if you'd like itemized lists tracking every expense and revealing exactly where you've appropriated funds for your personal use to be delivered to the Board, by all means, continue addressing me as you were before." he said. Principal Blackwell stared, her jaw working soundlessly and he continued. "To conclude, I'm done here. Stay out of my way and do your damn job properly."

He turned on his heel and left, taking another sip of the coffee. A moment later, he made a face and tossed the cup into the garbage. Perhaps he could put together something to extract the most flavor from the coffee beans he preferred without all the additions that coffee chain added to make their drinks into noxiously sweet concoctions.

"You may go now, thank you," he said perfunctorily to the substitute teacher who was failing at keeping anyone's attention whatsoever. She stared at him for a moment, then left without a word as he looked across the classroom and they all quieted at the sight of him.

"You'll have to forgive me," he began. "Yesterday was a rather bad day for a variety of reasons." He sorted through his briefcase and frowned.

"Well, it seems that I've left the lessons I had intended for today in my other briefcase," he said. "In light of that, we're going to improvise. We've discussed the dynamics of the Protectorate and the gangs such as the Empire and the ABB, but I think we should discuss something else today. They don't get noticed as much for a variety of reasons, chief among them they lack the sort of marketing teams the Protectorate have at their disposal or the infamy of the major villains. Let's discuss the independent cape scene here in Brockton Bay."

The flow of conversation changed as the students began paying attention to the topic he had proposed and he leaned against the desk, adding comments or posing questions. Perhaps tomorrow wasn't as bad as he had feared.

~~~~~~~~

"We were thinking of going to the mall, want to tag along?" Catherine asked as we walked out of the school for the day. I glanced over at her and Minako and reluctantly shook my head.

"I would, but I've got something at home I need to finish working on," I told her. "Will you two be free tomorrow?"

"There is an appearance by an author I enjoy," Minako said. "She will be at Chronicles downtown to talk about and sign her latest book."

I blinked. "C. Poe, right? The Acceleration series?"

She nodded. "I am curious to see what happens with Ingrid after she left Haven. She was not well after the fight with the Malevolent Six."

"Boring," Catherine said. "I stopped reading those after she flushed any chances of Ingrid hooking up with the Weaponsmith."

I rolled my eyes. "Ingrid's a teenage girl. Weaponsmith is around thirty. That's just weird."

Catherine shrugged, looking grumpy. "Doesn't matter. They totally were in to each other."

"Pay her no mind," Minako said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She supports the oddest relationships in the books she has read. She has a first print of Shades of Darkness in her collection."

"Minako!" Catherine hissed, outraged.

I frowned. "Isn't that the one with the schoolteacher and the vampire who was like, fifteen?" I racked my brain trying to remember. It had come out a few years ago and I could remember Mom ranting about it when it was popular. There was even a movie that had been made of it, though I hadn't seen it.

"He only looked fifteen," Catherine grumbled. "He was at least as old as the teacher."

"And why he was attending high school?" I asked with a skeptical look. "Anyway, vampires can't come out in the day time anyway…"

"The author was basing it off Stoker's work," she said, sighing. "Dracula was perfectly capable of walking about in the day, he was just wasn't as powerful. As to attending school. Imagine you look fifteen forever. You can't exactly walk around doing whatever you want in the day. The police will pick you up for truancy and take you back to school. Not that I know anything about that."

I shook my head and then glanced between them, remembering something that had bugged me about the two of them. "Could I ask you two something?"

They shared a glance and then both looked at me, with Minako speaking. "What is it?"

"Well, Catherine just moved to Brockton Bay with her parents who are military," I began hesitantly. "And Minako came back after being away for a bit due to family issues. Everyone thinks you two met here at Winslow, but…"

Catherine smiled. "What I didn't mention, is this isn't the first time I've been to Brockton Bay. I knew Minako from before and we kept in touch. Soon as I heard we were coming back here, hopefully for good, I let her know."

Minako smiled slightly, glancing toward Catherine before looking back at me. "Seeing my friend again was quite a surprise. As was making a new one. That aside, if you would like to come with, we would be happy to have you along."

"I'd love to," I replied, feeling a genuine smile cross my face, then glanced to where the bus was pulling up. "I need to catch this one, so I'll meet you at Chronicles tomorrow?"

"Sounds good!" Catherine said as Minako simply nodded. "Bye, Taylor!" I waved and made my way quickly to the bus, finding a seat near the middle as the bus pulled away from the curb.

* * *

I finished the stitch and eyed the end result critically. It had taken a lot of work, but it was done. I stepped back, settling the material of the top on the stand. It was mostly grey, though it shifted to black along where my nonexistent bust line would be if I were wearing it. Worked in gold was the emblem, an inverted triangular shape that was a heavily stylized bird in flight, its head turned to my right. The black continued upward, where the mask's empty sockets stared back at me

The grey fabric was ribbed, extra material worked into each line that reinforced it, as well, I thought with a rueful grin, gave me more of a bustline than I actually had. The pants were black and had taken a few tries to get right to work in armor beneath the fabric that wasn't apparent. A belt hung across where my hips would be, though it was little more than circle of polished chrome with numerous tiny compartments making up the belt itself.

There was still something missing, though, I thought as I quickly stripped down and changed into it. There hadn't been enough material after the first few attempts at dying to make more than this. Dying, as I found out, was quite a bit harder than I had thought. Or at least, dying and making it look good was difficult. Relearning how to work the fabric had taken a while and there was a pile of material from my my first few attempts. The cloth I had bought was sturdy enough that I might be able to use it to reinforce the as needed, but the failures weren't good for much else.

"What else…" I murmured as I worked my hair out and adjusted the mask. I had been worried that it would show too much of my face to actually serve its purpose, but the way the material compressed to hold itself in place altered the lines of my face enough that I didn't quite recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.

Inspiration struck a moment later and I grabbed the jacket that Vicky had purchased for me with her boyfriend's money. That she had still left me unsure how to respond, but it might work for this. I slipped it on and looked back at the image in the mirror and I couldn't repress the smile on my face.

Perfect.

It wasn't as fancy as some of the costumes that I had seen pictures of when I was doing research, but it was certainly a step up from just throwing on a hockey mask and beating people up with sports equipment. When I had learned about a vigilante in New York who did just that I had raised eyebrow. No one was even sure what his powers were and some people weren't even sure if he was real or not.

Well, I knew what mine were and the amount of practice with them I had been doing over the past three weeks, I felt I was ready to go out tonight. It was amazing how much I could use the telekinesis during the day and have no one know at all. Like using it to keep the weight of my backpack off my shoulders and back almost constantly, or a dozen smaller things. I turned to the left and right, scanning for any signs of seams coming undone or things I would need to mend.

I had changed back and was looking the costume over once more when I heard the side door close loudly, meaning my dad had gotten back in. I quickly packed away the costume in the hiding place I had chosen in the basement and cleaned up after myself before heading upstairs.

"Hey, Taylor, how was school?" he asked as I came out into the hall.

"Pretty good," I answered. "Good day at work?"

"Busy," he sighed, looking exhausted. "Sorry I was so late. Do you need me to fix something for dinner?"

I shook my head. "It's alright. I made a sandwich earlier after I played your message about working late." I looked at him intently for a moment, frowning. "You look tired though. You should go to bed."

He smiled for a moment, then yawned. "I might do that. Think I'll go get changed and read for a bit. Don't stay up too late, yourself."

"I won't," I said brightly, nudging him toward the stairs. He shook his head, but was soon out of sight and I went to the kitchen for a drink. I had a few hours still and planned to spend them with a book until I knew my dad was out.

* * *

One thing that I had not been able to practice as much as I liked was moving myself with my telekinesis. I hit the gravel on the next roof and stumbled, rolling awkwardly from the force of the empowered jump and glad that I wasn't wearing some of the less-durable looking costumes I had seen pictures of. But looking back, I couldn't help but feel proud as I eyed the gap between rooftops that I had hopped across.

"Need to work on the landings though," I muttered, climbing to my feet and dusting off my hands, wincing a little. Gloves, definitely need to make some gloves. I'd been so pleased with how the outfit looked with the coat that I hadn't even thought of that.

For all the gangs in Brockton Bay, apparently they all took friday night off. I had been traveling around the edges of Merchant territory, hoping to find a few of them doing something, anything, that I could stop them for, and come up with nothing in the hour and a half I had been out.

Still, I thought as I lined up and jumped for the next roof. It was at least letting me practice moving myself with my powers. The next landing, I still stumbled, but at least I didn't roll halfway across the roof.

Or crash into an air conditioning unit. Mortification still lingered as I remembered my first rooftop jump. My shoulder still ached a bit from that embarrassing fumble. Several more rooftops and I had a better handle on it and was able to keep my footing, even if I hadn't gotten the hang of managing my own momentum if I tried a running jump like you saw in videos or on tv.

Twenty minutes later and I had reached the end of what I had roughly figured was Merchant territory and I sighed. Nothing. I hadn't found a single person doing anything that could be considered a crime. I hadn't even found anyone jaywalking! I carefully slowed my descent to the ground from the roof I had been on. Maybe I was just missing everything by being up on the roofs?

A muffled voice and someone cursing drew my attention and I looked around, spotting three men illuminated by a streetlight across the street. All three looked shabby and turned in my direction before breaking down a nearby alley.

"Oh, for th-" I began, then raised my voice in what I hoped was a stern command. "Stop!"

They didn't. Of course they didn't.

I glanced at the building beside the alley they had gone down. I let my precognition turn on and took off at a run. A few steps and I jumped, using my telekinesis to propel myself forward and up onto the roof of the building. I stumbled a bit, but kept standing and I almost cheered, before taking off in pursuit as I saw where they were going. A van parked two blocks away, the sliding door open for easy entry. One other person inside, looking bored in the driver's seat.

I couldn't let them reach the van and I saw a way to block them as another tk-fueled jump carried me to across to another rooftop. I had managed to get ahead of them, just. Now if I could…

The dumpster near the opening of the alleyway that they were angling for wrenched sideways abruptly, blocking the opening with a thud. Cries of dismay sounded from the men and I backtracked a bit, dropping to the ground so that they were caught between me and the dumpster.

I eyed them for a moment. There was less light here, so I couldn't make out too many details, but one of them was clutching a bag close to his chest. Something valuable, I guessed. Maybe drugs?

"Fucking cape," one of them said boldly. "We weren't doing nothin'!"

"Then why did you run?" I asked, alert for them to try anything. The speaker moved first, charging at me with a short club he had been concealing. I used my telekinesis and hooked it like a rope around one of his feet, sending him sprawling awkwardly. He got up quickly, though, as the second one snatched up a broken bottle from the trash in the alley and waved it menacingly.

It wasn't necessary, but I found it easiest to use a gesture as a guide and I did so, shoving him against the wall shoulder first. The bottle fell from his hand and shattered to pieces on the pavement. Another movement and I shoved his jacket down his arms, twisting the sleeves with my power. It took a moment to knot them together and with it still zipped in front, he, at least, was caught.

The first one had produced a sharpened piece of metal that was fixed to some wood with what I thought was a leather cord. He yelled something I couldn't make sense of and charged again. I shoved him back and yanked the makeshift knife free from his hand, sending it skittering off behind me.

"I'm guessing those are drugs," I said, looking at the third man and ripping the bag away from him. I let it land off to one side of the dumpster as I focused on quickly weaving his shoelaces together tightly. When he started to run, he pitched forward. I saw the glint of his belt buckle at his waist and pulled the belt free, snapping it around the other man's wrists and tightening it. Another moment and I nudged all three against the wall away from the bag.

They were secured and I was confident they weren't going to be getting away, so I crouched down to check the bag, letting my precog go for the moment. The alleyway was blocked and they were subdued.

"Looks like I was right," I said, eyeing the mix of cash and plastic bags containing what I was sure were drugs. Cocaine, maybe? Something else? I didn't know what the popular drugs were now and I was pretty sure there was a cape out there who made drugs as his cape power.

I used my telekinesis to zip the bag closed and stood. "Well, if I were a police officer, I'd read you your rights, but I guess I'll just let them do that, since you guys aren't going anywhere." One of them swore at me to do something that I wasn't even sure was physically possible and I just shook my head, reaching into my jacket's inner pocket for the cell phone I had there.

The heavy plastic lid of the dumpster shook and I felt my precognition flare up, giving me a view of what was about to happen a half-second before it did. The fourth man from the van slammed into me, driving me against the wall. The back of my head cracked against it and I saw stars as my phone skidded across the pavement out of reach.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall again, though I avoided hitting my head a second time.

"Fucking bitch," he snarled and dropped me, a kick aimed at my side. The costume worked as I had hoped and absorbed most of it, but the air fled my lungs nonetheless. I had to get some distance between me and them!

"Get…away!" I shouted, throwing up my hands as he reached for me again. My telekinesis surged outward in every direction, shoving the man back into the other three. I heard a screeching, then a loud thud and screeching metal. The wall behind me even gave against my back.

Gasping for breath, I pushed my feet around, trying to stand, though they didn't want to cooperate. The guy was stirring and I saw he was going to get to his feet first. My foresight saw him reaching for me… and then he was gone.

"Wha-" I began, confused as he stood and then something blurred across my vision, almost too fast for me to see. The Merchant was laying in a heap halfway down the alley and there was a figure half crouched there, arm outstretched for a punch. She had a cape covering one shoulder, and a white dress that shone even in the dimly lit alley way. A tiara with spikes radiating from it was visible nestled in her blonde hair as she straightened, her back to me.

Glory Girl. One of New Wave's second generation.

"Well, that was fun," she said in a voice that I was certain I knew. "Worthless trash." Her arms moved in a way that suggested she was dusting them off before she turned around and walked toward me. The three men had recovered, and were trying to push themselves against the way or scramble away from her. She knelt and flicked her finger at each in turn, apparently knocking them out while I fumbled around and found my phone, which had survived the fall with only a few scratches.

"As for you, nice to see another girl out doing this" she said, leaning down and the light from the street came across her face. "Are you hurt?"

It was a face I knew well and I blinked several times, my head still pounding from when I had hit the wall. What was… why was she… Her hand caught mine in a firm grip and she helped me to my feet.

"V-Vicky?" I stammered, not quite sure that what I was seeing was real. Vicky was… Glory Girl? Oh. Of course. Vicky was short for Victoria. As in Victoria Dallon. How the hell had I missed that?

Her expression dimmed and she let go of my hand to cross her arms. "That is my name, but I don't think we've been introduced for you to be using my name…" She peered at me for a moment and her eyes widened in realization. "That jacket… Taylor?!"

My first night out and I've already blown my identity. Wonderful.

~~~~~~~~

Victoria Dallon sighed mentally as the police packed the men into their car. Nearby, trying so hard to not look like a deer caught in the headlights, Taylor stood, giving a statement to the police. Taylor, the girl she had met at the mall was a cape. Dean had told her that there was suspicion that she was but they didn't have proof.

But now she did and she closed her eyes, frustrated. No. She had proof, but this was Taylor's secret. She didn't have the right to tell Dean anymore than she had the right to tell Taylor that Dean was a cape. Not everyone subscribed to New Wave's philosophy and as much as she sometimes wished they did, she knew quite well that the idea of openly admitting to being a cape brought its own set of problems.

Sighing again, she moved over to where the police officer was talking to Taylor, the conversation becoming clearer as she got closer.

"Alright, I think that's almost everything I need," he said, looking down at his paperwork. "Just one thing. What name would you like listed here?"

"I hadn't picked one yet, actually" Taylor admitted, clearly caught off guard by the question. Vicky looked her over, her eyes fixing for a moment on the emblem just below her throat and she grinned as an idea struck her. It looked somewhat like the bird symbols she had seen when studying Central and South American history, only more stylized. What had the name been… Oh. Something unpronounceable, she remembered and wracked her brain for something else.

"It's her first night out," Glory Girl said, drawing their attention. "So, go easy on her, Terry. How about Sirin?"

"That's… Russian," she saw Taylor frown, mulling it over. "That can do for now."

The officer smiled and tipped his cap in the newly christened cape's direction. "Well, she's in good company. Good showing for a first night out, Sirin."

"Thank you," Taylor said almost inaudibly, clearly overwhelmed.

"Do you need a lift anywhere?" Vicky asked as the police officer moved away. Taylor, or rather, Sirin, shook her head as the question sunk in.

"Oh, no, I can travel on my own," She pushed away from the wall and then slowly rose from the ground. Vicky felt her grin return as she watched the girl rise to the level of the roof and then step onto it. Shifting her legs, Glory Girl took flight and was on the roof as well, or hovering above it rotating in a lazy circle around Taylor.

"So, you're a cape," she said as the other girl stared at her with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her lower lip jutting out slightly in what was clearly a pout. "This is the first ti-"

She cut off as Vicky looped around, hovering upside down in front of her friend. "Taylor, I'd recognize the the very expensive coat I bought you anywhere."

"Dean bought, you mean," was the correction and then she realized what she had said and sighed. "Fine. Would you believe I didn't even connect Vicky the girl I talked fashion with to Glory Girl until I saw you in costume?"

"Wait, what?" Glory Girl squawked as Taylor stepped around her and took a leap across to the next roof, moving at a pretty steady clip. She corrected her position and flew after the other girl. "How could you not? I'm kind of famous, you know?"

"You never gave your last name and I had a lot on my mind," she answered with a shrug as they crossed several more rooftops. "And anyway, now that I think about it, I should have known, but whatever. I didn't make friends with Glory Girl. I made friends with a girl named Vicky."

Glory Girl slowed down a bit, digesting that before speeding up. "You know I'm Glory Girl, right?"

"Now, yes," Taylor asked as if it were obvious then she looked away for a second. "But I didn't keep your number and call you to hang out because of that."

"Oh, please" Vicky said, waving a hand absently. "I didn't think that at all. I did think it strange that you didn't seem to have the same amount of awe at meeting a local celebrity that others have, though…"

"You've got some sort of aura, right?" she asked, frowning. "I guess I'm immune? I thought I'd figured out my powers but…"

"You got them back in January, right?" Vicky asked, turning in a corkscrew as she flew alongside Taylor, whose expression darkened in response to the question.

"If you must know, yes," she said with a grunt as she landed on the next roof. "I'd prefer not to talk about it."

Coming to a halt, Glory Girl thought of something. "Wait... was the giant bird your doing?"

"No," she answered. "I can't do anything with fire that I've been able to tell."

"Ah, geez," Vicky said, frowning. "And I gave you a bird themed name. They might still try connecting that to cape-you."

Taylor shrugged, but gave no other obvious physical indication of her mood. "I can't do fire, so I'm not worried about that too much. Don't worry about it, Vicky."

"If you're sure…" Vicky said, then frowned. "You looked like you got rocked pretty hard back there. Are you sure you're okay? I can get my sister to patch you up…"

"I'm alright, I think," Taylor replied. "It didn't do much more than make me see stars for a few. Might have been bad if you hadn't shown up."

"I doubt it," Glory Girl contradicted. "You put that dumpster all the way out in the middle of the street, so I think you'd have handled them without my help. Was that just strength or…?"

"Telekinesis," she said after a moment. "I've been practicing with it for a while now. It's how I'm doing this." She launched across to another roof as Vicky kept pace easily.

"Really?" She made another lazy loop around Taylor, almost giggling at the irritated look the other girl threw her. "Tell you what, race you to Captain's Hill."

Taylor eyed her. "I can't fly properly yet, so that isn't even fair."

"Yet?" Glory Girl grinned. "You've tried?"

"I tried once," she admitted. "It isn't as easy as it seems."

"What, you just will yourself in the direction you want to go and then go? That's what I do." Vicky said.

Taylor looked over at her. "No. I use my power to lift and move forward. It's… like moving in a car, but there's no car. I tried, but I don't have a lot of room to practic- Hey!" She dodged out of the way of the half-hearted swat Glory Girl aimed her way.

"We're out at night, there's no one around. All the practice you could want," she explained.

"And if I screw up and fall?" Taylor asked.

"Then I'll catch you," Glory Girl said, then grinned, adding challenge to her voice. "Come on, Sirin, time to learn to fly."

Something sparked in her friend's eyes and a steely note echoed in her voice. "You're on. Try and keep up." She took a step and rocketed away, the roof's surface cratering slightly from her launching herself into the air. Glory Girl watched her soar off, then smirked as it turned into sort of helpless flopping as she began to arc toward the ground. Cheering, she let the wind ruffle her hair and launched forward to keep the rookie from hurting herself.

~~~~~~~~

"The biggest thing is to keep aware of how fast you're moving," Glory Girl said as we sat on the edge of the concrete wall that guarded pedestrians against falling down the sheer hillside. "You have to give that a lot more attention than I do since I just will myself to go and stop. Using your car metaphor, if you stop too abruptly, you could go flying as your car comes to a halt. Or worse, you try to but don't. Whiplash can be nasty." She pulled one leg up, holding it in place with her hands at her knee.

"I would say you might try less controlling your own body and more on just focusing to fly and shifting for control. Flying is actually really easy, but if you're overthinking it, you might be making it harder than you need to." she finished.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said with a wry grin, stretching my arms above my head. "I should probably get home though before it gets any later."

"Yeah, me too," Vicky said. "Mom gets all disapproving if I'm out too late, not to mention my sister worries." She pushed away from the wall with her hips and floated in the air. "Give me a call whenever you want someone to hang out with while doing this!" She twisted and then rocketed off with a wave.

I stretched my arms again and pushed off as well, moving at a much slower pace toward home. I made it there in minutes versus the half hour it would have taken on foot and slipped in through the window I had left open after checking that all the lights were out on the houses around us. A telekinetic push and the window closed behind me.

After I changed out of my costume and examined it for any signs of anything that might need repair, I relaxed a little. There was some cleaning that needed done, but no seams had burst that I could tell and nothing had torn. I tucked it away in a hiding place in my room and quietly went downstairs. Dad's door was partially ajar and I could hear him snoring, so I took care to make as little noise as I could, even floating so that none of the steps squeaked.

A sandwich and something to drink eased the hunger that all my running had worked up and I grabbed a blanket. If I kept the volume low, I could watch a cheesy movie or two, feeling too wired to sleep. I stretched out on the couch and reached for the remote, beginning to flip through channels.

The next thing I knew, there was someone knocking loudly at the door and nearly fell onto the floor as I tried to untangle from the blankets. I glanced the nearest clock. Nine am. Why hadn't dad answered the door? Was he still asleep?

The insistent pounding sounded again and I crossed toward the door, carefully working my fingers through my hair to untangle it. When I peeked through the curtains on either side of the door, I felt any vestiges of sleep flee.

"Mr. Barnes," I said as politely as I could when I opened the door. "I'm sorry, I don't think my dad's up yet." He blinked and it took a moment before he said anything, like he didn't recognize me. I took a moment and looked him over quickly, noting that his suit looked rumpled and his eyes were slightly bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in a while.

"Taylor?" he asked. "I… is Emma here?"

What.

"No…" I said slowly. "Emma and I haven't exactly been friends for a while now."

His expression crumpled and he took a deep breath. "Okay. Well, thank you…"

"What's wrong?" I asked, halting him in the act of turning away. "Why would you look for Emma here?"

"She snuck out sometime yesterday," he said after a moment. "I don't know when, but I've been out looking for her since. I've tried everywhere I can think of… this was a long shot, but I had to try."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes, but the last time I saw Emma was earlier in the week. Thursday, I think. Maybe Friday, but that was at a distance." He nodded slightly and turned his gaze to the floor of our porch.

"I need to keep looking," he murmured. "If you hear from her, I know it's unlikely, could you let me know, please?"

I took a deep breath. "Mr. Barnes, I don't know how much you're aware of, but given the way things have been between us, I'm the last person Emma would run to. Even if she did come here… I can't say I wouldn't slam the door in her face."

I had his attention now but I couldn't tell what he was thinking and I was reluctant to try and see what he was thinking. Just standing this close had me wanting to back up, his worry for Emma was that strong.

"I know," he murmured. "After I talked to that teacher, I sat down with Emma for a very long talk. I didn't want to come here because apologies from me for what my daughter's done are more or less meaningless. For what it's worth, though, I am sorry for what she did."

I blinked, stunned at his words. When I didn't speak, he nodded and made a gesture that was a half-wave. "Take care of yourself, Taylor. Don't worry Danny by running off without a word, okay?"

"Mr. Barnes," my voice stopped him halfway to the sidewalk. I couldn't believe what I was about to say. "If you'll give me a moment and I'll help you look for her. There's some places I know that she used to like. Maybe she's there?"

I wanted to cringe at how relieved he look at my offer even as I held back that if she was there, I doubted her reaction to seeing me was going to be a positive one. "I just have to change and leave a note for my dad."

I was halfway through the note when it hit me that I didn't need to physically search.

Where can I find Emma Barnes? The thought triggered something and I felt it stretch out. I had found that I retained what each person felt like to my telepathy and I could see, for lack of a better word, more people than I could easily count slipped past my awareness.

There.

Nestled amid a lot of other people, I found Emma, with several other people immediately around her and others nearby. Almost spaced evenly apart, if I understood what I was feeling right. Rooms, maybe? I couldn't physically see, so it was more like a layout of lights, each one representing a person.

I looked around, trying to get some idea of where this was from just what I could see in my mind. I saw several people gathered around another, whose light abruptly went out and the colors of the people's lights changed in response.

A hospital. It had to be.

The pen fell from my hands and I left it there, turning toward the front door. Mr. Barnes was on the porch still and I grabbed my shoes, wondering how to tell him that.

He was staring at his phone when I came outside and from the look on his face, I realized I didn't have to.

"That was.." he began, but trailed off as if he couldn't form words.

"Come on, Mr. Barnes," I said gently. "Let's go to the hospital."

* * *

Mr. Barnes was talking to the doctors in the hallway, who had led him outside of the room. From what I had overheard, she had been near ABB territory and been attacked. They weren't entirely sure what had happened as she had come in unconscious and hadn't woken up yet. The location they mentioned her being near seemed to mean something to him, but I didn't know of any places she used to hang out at near there.

I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, then looked at the medical equipment around the room before coming back to Emma. Her face was a motley mix of purple and her green, bruises dotting it and one eye swollen shut.

The equipment beeped steadily, indicating that she had a steady heartbeat, so that was good, at least.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I muttered. "I wanted you to stop, but why would you do whatever caused this?" I didn't know how to feel, seeing her like this. The events of a few weeks ago had basically wrecked her social standing but I couldn't understand what had driven her to this.

I exhaled, looking around the room. Damnit. I didn't care about her, about this. She had chosen to turn on me, to torment me. I should be glad she was like this. It was only fair, right? She wrecked my life and that came back on her. But I just felt unhappy at seeing this, not even a trace of any sort of happiness. Not even the vindictive, spiteful kind that she had all those times she had tried to tear me down.

"Damnit, Emma," I muttered again, blinking several times to ease the sudden stinging in my eyes. I was not going to cry over this, over her.

A hand brushed mine and I almost jumped as too-warm fingers closed around mine. Emma's not swollen eye was open, squinting at me. Her fingers squeezed for a second.

"Tuh-Taylor?" she said, the words slurred and confused.

"Yeah, it's me, Ems," I said, the nickname coming out of an old habit that had fallen to disuse.

"I'm suh-sorry," her hand squeezed mine again before going limp as her eye closed. I stared for a moment, unsure how to respond. A glance at the monitors showed a steady heartrate, so the momentary spike of panic faded quickly.

"Me too, Ems," I said after a moment, giving her hand a squeeze in return. She didn't react, unconscious or asleep again and I turned to leave the room. "I wish I knew for sure that you were as well."

The doctor was walking away when I came out and I glanced toward Mr. Barnes, who approached quickly.

"The doctor said the report they had gotten from the police was that she tried to stop some gang members from mugging someone," he explained. "There were too many of them though."

"She woke up for a moment," I told him when he paused. "You should go be there when she wakes up again."

"Did she say anything?" he asked, glancing toward the half-closed door.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Her eye opened and she moved her hand for a moment, then she was out again."

"I called my wife," he said. "She's on the way with Emma's sister. I… Thank you for sitting with her while I was talking to the Doctor, Taylor. I can give you a ride home once they're here..."

"Just take care of her, Mr. Barnes," I said. "Go on. I can catch the bus home." The relief on his face was staggering and he gave my shoulder a squeeze before heading into the room where Emma was.

I stared at the door for a moment before starting down the hall toward the elevators. I needed to get away from here. The sound like water in the back of my mind gurgled and moaned painfully, the thoughts of everyone around me almost like a pressure against my own thoughts. There, a cluster of people radiating grief, another projecting disbelief.

I brushed past a girl or woman in a white outfit and muttered an apology from almost crashing into her before ducking into the elevator. I remembered the signing that promised I would go to with Catherine and Minako with a frown. I could flake on them, as I wasn't in the mood for that now. The elevator dinged and I made a beeline for the exit, my decision made. I needed something happy right now and that might just be it.

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Chapter 797 - 9-11