(Present day)
The main gates of Arcadia High School stood halfway between the unofficial school bus stop and the student carpark. I still thought a carpark just for students was too much. But it was usually pretty full, so I guess more people had cars at Arcadia.
Arcadia was comprised of two long buildings with a kind of connector in the middle, like a big H. Four stories tall, full of classrooms. The middle bit was all offices. The layout made more sense than Winslow, but I suppose this school had paid for a proper architect. Like it had paid for a proper everything else.
The school was in downtown, near the Bay Central. I knew the bus route from going to the library, but it still took me an hour by the fastest route. That route included a walk from Lord Street, which meant every school day with a run through my local area (Dad had made me promise to stop toeing gang boundaries) then a walk along much wider and more recently repaired footpaths. There were skyscrapers near the school too, towering buildings in every other block. Downtown felt a little like a different world, where you could pretend that gangs weren't preying on the city.
Dad had driven me to school for the first week. He hadn't this week, partly because of downtown traffic, partly because it meant he got to work late, partly because it was awkward. I'd told dad Sophia was one of the Wards, that she'd attacked me. He already knew half the story after blowing up at a number of PRT employees in the days I was, uh, comatose. I could tell he felt guilty. Maybe even regretted telling me to sign the contract. I wasn't using my power – my original power – on him anymore. I had the [Brockton Bay Wards], which was enough and which I wouldn't give up. So, yeah. Dad was guilty, I felt free and restless and still a little angry. Awkward.
Eager students streamed past me. I heard snippets of gossip about friends and relationships and assignments. However, of the discussion still stuck to the news from last Sunday. Brockton Bay had a new Ward. Apparently, all of the interesting information was either about the nature of their powers or how they were getting along with the rest of the team. Yesterday I'd heard one wild conspiracy that the new Ward was still Shadow Stalker since they both had long black hair. I was so over shit like whether I was supposed to be interested in Clockblocker or Kid Win that I hadn't bothered to point out that my skin was white, and Sophia was… in juvie. Gone. Never to bother me again.
I'd stopped on the footpath. People glanced at me as they chatted, but it was all mild. Curious if anything. They didn't know me.
Feeling begrudgingly thankful to the PRT for getting me a scholarship here, I walked through the gates and into my school.
My first class on Fridays was English. Ms Hurst had the class reading through the Crucible this week. Reading out loud, like a drama club. She did happen to coordinate the school's drama club, which probably wasn't full of racist dog-whistles like Winslow's was, not that I'd joined any clubs in that hell.
My Mom had promised to read the Crucible with me when I was older. I'd read it myself, after packing away her bookshelf. A few things had gone over my head at 13, but last week's assignment about McCarthy and the red scare made me remember Mom's English Professor lectures about 'textual context' and 'writing as reaction to society'. The class was currently reading the last Act, where the village is falling apart and John Proctor refuses to give a false confession. The story of one man standing strong against corruption and lies resonated with me. Abigail really reminded me of Emma, lying and avoiding consequences. I liked Mom's copy of the book that referenced the probable real-life Abigail becoming broke in the big city.
Having to read aloud wasn't great, even if I had a side character. But what made school especially worth it was that my GPA had been reset. On my first day, Vice Principal Howell had re-explained my cover for Wards activities and pointedly gone over Arcadia's anti-bullying policies. I'd been bullied during the anti-bullying talks at Winslow, so the only things I found interesting was a hint that Principal Blackwell might be fired and my GPA getting reset. Having a clean slate, grades-wise, was an actual relief. Mom had always wanted me to go to university and now I wasn't being sabotaged, I actually had the chance.
As the rest of the class debated whether Reverend Hale was a good person or not, I mused on how different my life could have been. Before Mom died, I'd given up the chance to go to Arcadia because Emma's grades hadn't been good enough to join me. I felt my jaw clenching at the irony, grinding sensation distant thanks to Aegis. But soon enough, the bell rang.
The hallways of Arcadia, just like the classrooms, were simply nicer than Winslow's. Things were clean. Linoleum not peeling. I hadn't seen a single gang tag yet. Wider too, so getting from one class to another was less crammed. I didn't know if Arcadia had more or less students, but there were enough to make my mental map full of static. Vista's power didn't like people, I'd found out. Even the lockers here were different; two rows of cubbies instead of thin, wall-tall things donated from warehouses. I still didn't use my locker, the price of a heavy backpack offset by greater 'endurance' thanks again to Aegis.
My second class was Information Technology, a fancier name for what was Winslow's computer class. Mr Jarvis was a much better teacher than Mrs Knott though. The thin, nerdy man seemed to cycle through loud jumpers, but was willing to give optional advanced parts to every class's assignment. He was also willing to give advice, rather than leave everyone to their own devices. Those two things meant I couldn't spend the class researching my own projects or checking ParaHumans Online (PHO, everyone called it), but it did mean that I learnt more.
I'd actually started to like coding for its own sake, rather than it just being a reprieve from suffering.
Overall, Arcadia was a better school. In every measurement I cared about. The PCs we were using ran quickly and the internet didn't lag. There was a lot of website restrictions, meaning that even if I wanted to use it, PHO was blocked. But I wanted to study. Partly because being a Ward enrolled me in Arcadia's vocational program, giving me only half-days of classes, after which I went to 'work'. But mostly because school had a purpose now.
Of course, Arcadia wasn't all suns and roses. I'd overheard plenty of petty gossip. And on the first day, I'd been given the new student tour by Gallant in his civilian identity. He'd pretended everything was normal until we were outside and out of earshot from classrooms. Gallant – Dean Stansfield – had apologised for not realising what the anger he'd seen in Sophia had meant. He'd been earnest, my version of his emotion reading told me as much. But I'd stayed silent, thinking about an obviously rich white boy, whose costume resembled a knight, apologising for not rescuing me.
Then we'd had this really weird minute where he saw my mix of gratitude, irony, and resentment and I'd seen his reaction of [sorrow/pity/confusion]. He'd sensed my emotional reaction and then reacted with [confusion/sorrow/curiosity]. We had this repetitive emotional reaction loop – thing – going until a thread of [empathetic bond] started emerging. At that point I'd jerked away and he'd sensed whatever panic I'd felt and got [worried].
I asked about the next location (gymnasium) rather than go back to whatever that loop was. I knew, then and now, that [Gallant/Dean Stansfield] was genuine. But he'd also been an emotion reader that hadn't noticed he was working with a literal psychopath.
I didn't interact with any of the Wards. Not during class, not during lunch. We were all different ages to start – Vista was still in middle school – and we'd also been told not to. Avoiding recognition of group dynamics; some psychological thing relating to secret identities. The Youth Guard pamphlet said it was to encourage us to establish friendship groups outside of the team.
I didn't quite think it was working.
[>[>---<]<]
I ate my lunches in the cafeteria, because we had to and it was still too cold to escape outside. The food wasn't free, just discounted, but thankfully far more edible than whatever Winslow had. Not packing sandwiches offset the longer morning commute I had now. It still felt shorter (thanks to me not dreading most my classes).
Today's lunch seemed to be a very basic and mild butter chicken curry, same as last Friday.
It had taken me a while to realise I was unnerved by the lack of open hostility between everyone here. I had spotted the E88 lowlifes and sympathisers in the first few days, no power-assistance needed for that, but no one wore gang colours openly. Although maybe that was because the ABB didn't have much presence downtown.
The cafeteria was loud, even at my table near the edge. There were clear cliques, with the athletes mostly congregating in one area and the maths club having a table near other assorted nerds. Across the way were the Empire kids, who grouped around the rich among them and reeked of hatred and insecurity. Other rich kids who weren't Nazis had settled in the middle of the room. Gallant was slightly apart from them, heading to a table where –
"Dean!"
Glory Girl. Daughter of New Waves' Brandish and Flashbang. Herself a member of the unmasked independent hero team. Which meant Glory Girl – Victoria Dallon – literally flew a few feet to hug/collide with her boyfriend. Who was also my teammate.
Based on previous lunches, there would be a period of making out then discussions about menial things that may or may not result in arguments. They'd already broken up and gotten back together in the two weeks I'd been attending Arcadia.
From my table at the edge, it was honestly a little tiring. I hadn't met Glory Girl as a Ward, but her powers and personality were very forceful. Probably helpful for keeping the Empire kids quiet about being nazi sympathisers, but still, loud. And she was surrounded with friends like Emma always had been.
I preferred the fringes of the room where pairs or small groups shared tables but focused on themselves. People gradually stopped trying to have conversations with me. I was a bit glad for that, which I hadn't expected. I'd held a faint hope of finding a friend last week, but people had just asked me whether I liked this or that thing, my opinion on some gossip or celebrity news that I hadn't even been aware was a thing. I hadn't had the chance to develop new hobbies or join a club at Winslow, so every conversation eventually became questions about Winslow or what books I liked to read.
Not many people read the classics for fun, it turned out.
I still wanted a friend. But if they weren't involved in cape stuff – still weird to think of myself as a cape, a hero – then I'd just be hiding things. How could I ask someone to trust me if I was keeping such a big secret? Couple that with how everyone who came up to me were either looking for gossip like Madison's friends or resembled the bystanders at Winslow who would look away from my torment?
I felt… disconnected from all the happy students who'd never seen a drug deal in the bathrooms. Or a knife fight in the yard.
There were a few people that were genuinely nice. But after my introduction to the Wards, I knew how a nice group could miss or ignore some pretty shitty things. Or people.
I could use my power to check. To make sure someone wasn't faking anything. But I wasn't dropping my connection to the Wards. Not for anything. My power kept me safe, let me escape, kept me aware of what was going on. I would only tell the genuine people thanks to Gallant's power anyway.
So, no. I didn't need anyone new.
I ate my lunch quickly, then spent the rest of my break in the library.
Arcadia's library was actually useful. Books weren't missing pages – or outright missing from the shelves. The carpet was clean, lights bright but not harsh, and the scanner across the entranceway worked. It reminded me of Mom's office at the university, wooden bookshelves and the smell of paper.
I went to my favourite corner in the classics section. It had a newer table, a padded chair, and was tucked away, just out of sight. The Librarian let me take my bag inside after I started talking with her about Fahrenheit 451. She smiled at me as I sat down and pulled my homework out.
The library was usually empty at lunch. Everyone wanted to use their phones in the hour that internet access worked. The school had a Faraday cage in its buildings, not that it effected me. My Wards phone was somehow able to receive emergency calls through the cage anyway. Still felt weird to have that weight in my pocket.
Part of the deal of being a Ward was that I had to maintain a good GPA for all the core subjects. So, this lunch was dedicated to yesterday's maths assignment and the not-so helpful textbook. My actual subjects were a lot easier now I wasn't being actively sabotaged in and out of class. And my power – the one I got from Vista – let me tell when people were nearby by the staticky blobs in my head.
In the past two weeks I'd noticed that the blobs were becoming more and more human shaped, rather than… blob shaped. I didn't know if practice would matter, but the part of my lunch spent in the cafeteria provided a good balance of empty space and small groups. Concentrating on it was slightly disorienting though.
Last weekend I'd had to go through more power testing, since I sort of had multiple powers going on now. I hadn't been as excited because, sure enough, all the long and really niche tests from the first time were repeated. PRT agents had rotated over the day until I was finished, after the sun had set. With the newness and excitement gone, I'd felt a lot more like a guinea pig in a government lab.
Which I technically had been.
I kept some of my focus on Vista's power – the still-new mental map in my head. Being aware of my surroundings and anyone approaching was too useful to ignore. Also, I was supposed to get some first aid courses as part of my Ward training.
As much as I hated the Wards and PRT in the days after fighting Sophia, the reality was that without them I was powerless. And I would never let myself be powerless again.
Lunch had twenty-three minutes remaining when I finished my maths problems. The new set of powers came with some ability to multitask. Or that's what the scientists had ended up calling it. However it actually worked, having what felt like six separate-but-combinable trains of thought certainly helped homework be less boring.
My mental map picked up a blob of static entering the library. I didn't look up, wanting to practice tracking them without sight. I also didn't want them to notice me. They moved to a nearby bookshelf, grabbed something maybe? Then went to a table and sat down. I looked up towards them and, yup, there was a bookshelf in the way, just as I'd thought there was. Progress.
I put my homework away and pulled out some fantasy story about medieval capes. The rest of lunch was silent. Peaceful.
I didn't need friends.
(I had a team.)
[>[>Taylor<]<]
(Beginning of March)
Power testing was conducted in what felt like the opposite end of the building complex. The testing room reminded me of a gym, but I had no clue what muscles some of these machines would build. Lockers lined the wall opposite those esoteric testing stations. The scientists that would be evaluating me today wore white lab coats and carried electronic pads. They were exactly what I expected as safety procedures were explained; they would do baseline tests for each power category, did I have any medical conditions, was I on any medication, and could I please sign here and here and here…
Once the small hill of consent forms was put back in a folder, the scientists' demeanour suddenly changed. Howard and Lucy insisted I call them by their first names as they excitedly led me through various procedures. Measuring height and weight. Stretches then sprinting across the room. Sight test; yup still short-sighted. Hearing test. A strength test that involved pushing against a metal block. Running back and forth across the room while Howard and Lucy shot at me with super soakers. An MRI in another room (the hospital gown was an uncomfortable reminder, the room too cold but thankfully empty). A very, very short sparring session with a plain-clothes PRT agent (I did not win). Standing on a humming plate of circuitry and concentrating. Standing between two oscillating sensors and concentrating. Hitting a punching bag. Touching the PRT agent and concentrating. Imagining shooting something from my palms (the target was not damaged by my waning patience).
Eventually the general tests ran out. I was no brute, striker, mover, blaster, or changer. Lucy pricked my finger with a needle, confirming that yes, my skin had the durability of normal skin. They then drew some blood and sent that to be analysed as well.
Armsmaster, who had been operating many of the obviously tinkertech scanners, scanned me with yet another device and confirmed that I was not regenerating blood or showing any internal biological abnormalities. I didn't want 'internal biological abnormalities', but a healing factor would have been nice. Armsmaster put the device away and told the scientists to focus on the power they knew I had. The gruffness and blank visor made him seem a little rude, but I was just as tired of the reminders that my power wasn't some big flashy thing.
Now back on track, Howard and Lucy got me to retell my first experiences of my powers – thankfully not how I got them. Everyone seemed surprised when I told them I'd been trying things since January.
"Most parahumans aren't content to practice with their powers at all, much less for two months." Miss Militia's explanation made sense. If I'd been able to fly, I would have been flying from day one.
Armsmaster showed more interest when I talked about my notebooks and how I filled them. His lower face got very grave when I described feeling the threads of my three bullies and how no one . "One of the Wards attends Winslow."
I choked on spit. Who. How. Why… why…
(Heroes were supposed to protect people. Why hadn't they protected me?)
He went on. "I am aware of the gang presence in that school. I'll talk to the Ward about some surveillance. Can you tell us anything about the gangs in Winslow?"
I did my best to shove everything down, to deal with the here and now. I was good at that, but there was a Ward at Winslow.
I'd brought my gang notebook along (only half filled, despite two months of effort) with me, so I handed them over and explained the bullies had taken the book that had all my notes about Winslow.
Miss Militia moved closer and put a hand on my shoulder. "We'll get you fast tracked to Arcadia."
Her expressions were remarkably expressive despite her face being covered below her eyes. The shift of cheekbones and crinkles around her eyes made it easy to imagine a caring smile beneath the American flag scarf.
I noticed my shoulders were raised up and slowly exhaled. I didn't want the heroes to think I was weak or scared. If I was going to be one of them, I had to be confident and strong, no matter how much I felt like just teleporting home and collapsing on my bed. The fact that I couldn't teleport made being confident both easier and harder.
Howard asked why the ABB notebook was more detailed that the Empire one. I explained how hard it was to see threads without close observation of the people involved. Howard then got me to share what I'd picked up from everyone in the room.
I'd got very little from the scientists, more focused on doing their tests than seeking out threads attached to them. It was much easier to see threads relating to Armsmaster and Miss Militia, despite not using my power on them yet either. The two heroes had a relationship of [Respect] and [Resignation of the Other's flaws].
My power, from a brief scan that was weirdly faster than other times I'd tried this, described Armsmaster as [Spartan Soldier] and Miss Militia as [Constant Patriot]. Both heroes seemed happy or at least content with those descriptions. The scientists hummed and wrote on their electronic clipboards for a while.
"You described sensing these 'threads' as seeing or feeling. Is there a difference between the two?" Lucy's head was titled, eyes narrowed. The scientists had been nice enough through the tests, but I still felt like a new species of bug pinned to a display board.
"It's not really seeing or feeling. I don't know how to describe it. I'll be looking at people, thinking through what I know of them, and then I'll just know something new. Or something I guessed becomes certain. With my organisation its… different. I just knew everything, all at once. Maybe seeing is for external threads and feeling is for threads in my organisation?" They were all looking intently at me.
I shrank back into the blood test chair. "It's hard to describe."
Lucy was writing without looking down. "What do you mean by 'your organisation'?"
Oh. I probably should have told them about the [Dockworker's Union] to begin with. I began to explain but Howard stopped me. "No identifiable data! I don't want to sign another NDA!" Lucy chuckled, and I felt blood rush to my cheeks.
I'd nearly revealed my secret identity. I had a secret identity now. That was… how much was my life going to change in becoming a hero? How much of my life was going to be turned upside down? (And was any of it finally going to get better?)
I explained that some family friends had come over and called me an 'honorary member' of where they worked. The scientists clarified that, yes, my feeling of inclusion was likely what triggered my thinker power. They also got me to describe every type of information my power provided about the [Dockworker's Union].
I hadn't had a full picture of any organisation, or my power, before a few days ago, so this was actually helpful. It turned out that when I 'joined' an organisation, I learnt names, job titles, a vague character description – which seemed accurate if arbitrary – the organisation's general purpose, and condensed summaries of everyone's relationship to everyone else. Howard and Lucy seemed most interested in the last three.
The two scientists began talking with each other, falling into their own world of jargon and saying things like "question the father to confirm accuracy" or "there was definitely no enhanced perception?" At one point, Howard turned back to me.
"Have you picked up any skills from your organisation?"
I didn't know how to build a wall or lay electrical wires before or after becoming an [Honorary Dockworker]. "No. I don't think so."
"Does it feel like you can take, pull, or draw on anything in your organisation?" Howard was serious, fingers poised over fancy pad.
"No." I hadn't actually tried it but reaching out into the web didn't change anything. I told them this, which made Lucy perk up paradoxically, but Howard scrolled through his notes and frowned.
"Your power is strange." I felt insulted. I knew he was correct, but indignation at yet another adult who could decide my fate talking over me made me clench my fists.
"All powers are strange." I didn't appreciate Miss Militia's attempt to cover up Howard's insult. I'd dealt with enough excuses from and about the people mistreating me.
"No, no. There's no conflict. I mean the lack of data for the amount of presumably accurate inference is also weird, but what really goes against statistics is that there's no point of conflict." Howard poked at a section of his pad.
"Every power has potential. This thinker power sounds perfectly suited for improving and supporting a team." Miss Militia had stepped forwards.
Oh. She was… defending me? I blinked.
"Alright, fine. But think: every parahuman in this city can use their power themselves. Thinkers and tinkers apply their power to other people and objects, but their power has clear operating factors, even without an external subject. But this thinker power just can't operate in isolation…" Howard scrolls back down on his pad and trails off, squinting at another section. "Lucy, what's the bet that this power is hiding another aspect?"
"No bets about the teenager's power. That's reserved for the Protectorate." Lucy was smiling and Miss Militia chuckled, but I felt like I was under a magnifying glass again.
Howard hummed, then started getting a big smile.
"I'm a genius!" He exclaimed. "Join the organisation of people in this room!"
What?
My power didn't work like that. The people here didn't work together, and half were strangers to each other. Hell, I was a stranger to all of them.
And why would I join a group of people I'd just met when I was an [Honorary Dockworker]? I was still awed that Armsmaster and Miss Militia had even talked to me, but I wasn't turning my back on the [Dockworker's Union] that quickly.
I would do my best to be a Ward, but until then I would stay with what I knew.
When nothing happened, Lucy scoffed. I leant back in the chair, wishing I wasn't the only one sitting.
"Howard you idiot." She turned to me and smiled ruefully – she hadn't been scoffing at me, right. "Welcome to the organisation of people in this room."
This time I saw the threads connecting everyone here. But it wasn't a web, just single lines or clusters leading further out into the building. I tried again. I frowned. Threads linked me to Armsmaster and Miss Militia but there wasn't a central connection between us all. "That didn't work. There's no organisation to join."
Armsmaster stepped forwards, silver visor facing me. "Everyone is in this room for the purpose of your power testing." He sounded impatient. "We are thus the New Ward Power Testing Organisation of the PRT ENE. Welcome."
Oh. The threads hummed into being and attached to everyone in the mental equivalent of a sunrise. The central… hub… unfurled and I let myself sink into the web. I'd been in shock the first time, but this feeling was like scratching an itch I couldn't reach, a bone deep satisfaction of 'finally'.
[New Ward Power Testing Organisation of the PRT ENE] [Goal: Test Taylor's Power]
[Taylor Hebert] [The Tested] [New Ward]
[Howard Mullins] [Tester] [PRT ENE Power Researcher]
[Lucy Thornton] [Tester] [PRT ENE Power Researcher]
[Collin Wallis] [Armsmaster] [Protectorate ENE Leader]
[Hana/Hannah Washington] [Miss Militia] [Protectorate ENE Second in Command]
"Oh shit." I cringed when everyone looked at me, but they had to know. "I'm really sorry, but my power just told me your secret identities."
"An NDA covering all hero identities is part of the Wards contract." Armsmaster sounded distracted. He suddenly started tapping both thighs with his fingers – typing directly into his internal notes – and muttering something inaudibly – subvocalising various commands.
"Oh. The Wards are going to be very glad to have you on the team." Miss Militia was holding her hand out, green and black energy buzzing around it, flickering in and out of the shapes of various deadly weapons.
She looked at Howard. "Your guess was correct, well done."
I looked between them. I wasn't sure what Howard had done, or why Armsmaster was suddenly sorted through all of his stored blueprints. "Uh, has anything happened?"
"You can't tell? You can't feel anything different?" Lucy frowned.
Was I supposed to feel different? I thought back over the conversation while scanning the connections in [New Ward Power Testing Organisation of the PRT ENE] and trying to pick up anything from the Lucy or Miss Milita's expression.
"Young hero." Miss Militia was facing me again. "Your power has a secondary aspect. We originally thought you were only a thinker, but it appears that your power effects other parahumans in your organisation. This makes you a trump, a power-boosting trump in particular."
I knew about trumps. They had powers that effected powers. Apparently the rarest type of parahuman. And… unpredictable.
The strongest parahuman in the world, Eidolon, was a trump. The idea that I could be in any common category with Eidolon was insane, but if I could boost others? Make the Wards or Protectorate stronger? I'd take that.
(It would make me useful. They couldn't kick me out.)
"As an example," Miss Militia continued speaking, "my power allows me to summon conventional weapons."
The green-black blur switches between knives, pistols, and an assault rifle. "But your power lets me do this." Her expression and tone were full of excitement.
The assault rifle vibrated and was suddenly patterned like the American flag. It also now had a high-tech scope and glowed red from new slits along the barrel, which was much longer and chunkier.
"I've never been able to replicate tinkertech before." She was also now wearing a strange monocle that resembled her gun's scope.
Howard's grin was half mad scientist, and half lottery-winner.
Lucy groaned. "We're going to have to catalogue every weapon you can make, aren't we?" She didn't sound that upset.
Both scientists did start pestering Miss Militia, and briefly tried to bring Armsmaster back to earth, but I could tell that…
Oh. I could tell what he was using his armour for. I knew the features built into his helmet and boots and chest plate. It was knowledge just as automatic as [Collin Wallis] [Armsmaster] [Protectorate ENE Leader].
"I… I think that I get something back." I tried to sound confident, but I was talking to actual heroes and professional researchers who had been poking me with electrodes. "From the boost, I mean."
Howard turned around. His grin was full mad scientist now.
By the end of the session, I'd signed another two forms and been given a working firearm. Which – thanks to [Hana/Hannah Washington] [Miss Militia] [Protectorate ENE Second in Command] – I had simply known how to use. From dismantling to and cleaning to putting a surprisingly good cluster of shots through a target. I'd also known the mechanical details and state of the gun, including when the clip was filled with blanks or not.
I was… feeling good. Hopeful.
If my power was actually meant to work in an organisation of other capes, then I would be a key member of any team I joined. The Wards would want me to join them, if only because I could boost their powers.
I nearly got trapped into a whole bunch more tests before Miss Militia rescued me when Howard and Lucy got distracted asking Armsmaster about how my boost was effecting him.
[>[>---<]<]
On my second walk through the main PRT building, I actually paid attention to my surroundings. The area where dad and I had our interview with Director Piggot was more spartan, but what felt like the central corridors had warmer lights and low levels of sound burbling out whenever doors opened. Occasionally there would be a PRT agent in bulky black armour and reflective visor waving us through an entrance. We passed by a cafeteria to find a few people having an early lunch. A few times someone in business clothes would pass us, chatting with someone next to them or striding to get where they needed to be. Apart from the marginally more comfortable environment, the main thing that stood out to me was that the PRT staff didn't really react to Miss Militia. They would nod or smile, a few even saluted. But there was no hero-worship, just respect. I liked that quite a lot. Up until I realised that people would turn around to look at me after we'd walked past. Or would pause their conversations and examine who was next to the real hero.
They were probably just wondering if I was a new Ward. Or looking for information on bets about my power that Howard, one of the power researchers, mentioned. Regardless, it felt like I was back at Winslow. Being judged, hearing comments about me from people who went silent as I passed by, feeling eyes running over my worn and baggy clothes. The only thing that kept me from shoving my hands in my pockets was the mask on my face. It seemed to be quite high quality; I'd forgotten about it for most of the interview and power testing. Trying to rub my eyes a few minutes ago reminded me of the black cloth though. These people didn't know me, hadn't ever met me before. And since my face was covered, they would only know me as a Ward, a hero. That let me be ok with them seeing my current state.
Miss Militia was walking in front of me. She'd been focused on her power for most of the walk from power testing, the green-black energy humming around her hand and flickering as she occasionally nodded in satisfaction. Eventually, she spoke.
"I know you aren't receiving any direct benefits from your trump power, but I really appreciate the new non-lethal options. Hard to capture someone safely when your power is 'weapons'." She laughed lightly and looked over her shoulder, eyes crinkling in what I now was sure was a smile.
That smile dropped as she met my eyes. I looked around – had I done something?
"Hey." Miss Militia's voice was gentle. I met her eyes – they were warm but not smiling. "Let's pause up here." She motioned to an alcove near an elevator up ahead. There was a PRT agent in the alcove, but they moved to guard the elevator at Miss Militia's request. The black chain mesh and Kevlar armour clashed with the agent's polite response, not to mention the intimidatingly large assault rifle hanging across their chest.
Miss Militia ushered me into the alcove, stepping in next to me just as I started feeling trapped. She stood straight-backed. I wanted to mirror her, but this day had been intense. Miss Militia sighed, then leaned back against the alcove wall herself. "Do you know that I was on the Inaugural Wards team?"
I did, so I nodded.
"There weren't any thinkers in the Inaugural Wards. Ten of us, from all over America. Mostly. I was born in Kurdistan." That explained my power assigning her two names. "Our situation is not exactly the same, but I've been in a similar position. The Inaugural Wards were all outsiders; Parahuman teams were new back then. The person who helped me as a Ward was Hero. He didn't know what learning a new language was like. But he cared, and he didn't pretend to know." Miss Militia paused. She looked sad. I'd known intellectually that heroes were still people, but seeing the costumes and blatant use of powers in person made it hard to reconcile 'Miss Militia' with the earnest woman in front of me.
"You're joining an established team. It's not what I've experienced, not exactly." She met my eyes. "But I know these Wards. They all care about being heroes. Even if they get frustrated, they are still a team. As long as you care about being a hero, you'll have a connection."
There was a sudden lump in my throat as I nodded. Today had drained me emotionally. The power testing had been a workout, but it was number of things that kept happening without any time for a break that was wearing me down. I was legally a Ward now, but that meant a lot of things, like moving to Arcadia and getting my own costume, and… too much information, crammed in my head. And I had to know and remember the hard way.
And that wasn't even getting into how my understanding of my power had completely changed.
Before I thought I would be a sort of consultant, but if I would be boosting powers and even having some reflection of them, then I could be a hero in the literal – or stereotypical - sense. The weight on my shoulders had shifted, not lifting so much as finding a new place.
I shook my head. I needed to focus. Prioritise. I could probably trust Miss Militia, and, more than that, I needed to know what I would be doing.
I tried to think of a question. "Since my powers aren't good in a fight, what can I do?
"Good question. Let's keep going while I tell you." Miss Militia straightened from the wall, nodded to the PRT agent, then led me to the elevator.
"Firstly, the Wards Base in Brockton Bay is underground." The elevator doors closed behind us, polished mirrors reflecting the patriotic hero and a skinny teen girl. Lights blurred by through slits in the ceiling.
I noticed that, even while unconsciously slouching, I was taller than Miss Militia. The hero still looked infinitely more confident and capable.
"Most Thinkers in the Protectorate are part of Watchdog, which is the PRT's investigative branch. You will likely stick to internal oversight, given your thinker power, but you could be involved in some financial investigations." That was… more like a desk job than I was expecting. I chewed the inside of my cheek as the elevator slowed, smooth as it started. It must have been tinker-tech, which felt both wasteful and impressive.
"Your trump powers are, honestly, a major benefit to any team, the larger the better." The doors opened to reveal another corridor, identical to the ones upstairs apart from a large door on the left. Miss Militia strode forwards. "If you don't want to stay in Brockton, the PRT will probably relocate you to Seattle to boost the Watchdog HQ."
I hurried after her as the elevator doors started closing. "I want to stay here."
Miss Militia smiled with her eyes again. "And we're very happy to have you." She stopped just beside the large door and stared into a retina scanner. I glanced up as a red light blinked above the door. "Ah, that is a warning for all Wards inside the base to put masks on. We take secret identities very seriously."
I remembered my earlier revelation of Miss Militia and Armsmaster's identities and cringed. "I should tell the Wards about my power knowing their names then, right?"
"They would appreciate that." Miss Militia stepped towards me, in front of the door. "It's okay to be nervous, but know that they're all excited to have a new teammate. I reckon they're all wondering who you are and what your power is." She suddenly chuckled. "And lining up to try and give you good impression."
I smiled back at her encouragement. This was just an introduction. They would love my power, so I just had to keep them focused on that. I just needed to get through the introduction, make my own good impression. Then I would be a hero.
The light above the door turned green after several deep breaths. It opened with a hiss and Miss Militia strode inside and aside. I took four steps forward and held my hands by my side, ignoring the ridiculous urge to put both hands on my hips. I kept my head up and looked around.
The Wards base was surprisingly big, with a domed roof. I didn't get to notice anything else because standing before me were the Wards. Heroes. My own age. Something hopeful bloomed in my chest.
Gallant. In the middle and tallest by a head. Silver and gunmetal grey plates evoked the plate armour of a medieval knight. Light glowed from under the metal, making the old fashioned futuristic. Even his posture fit his name.
I noticed Aegis to Gallant's right. Browned skin visible through a wide eye-slit in a rust-red helmet that otherwise covered his entire head. The rest of the costume had silver highlights amid the almost dried-blood colour, with a shield emblem in the middle of his chest. The lack of power armour made his muscles… very noticeable.
Leaning against a back wall was Shadow Stalker. A heavy cloak in dark grey urban camouflage over a skin-tight black bodysuit. Kneepads and numerous pockets, also painted black, bulked up a slender frame. Her mask showed only her hard eyes and was shaped like a stern woman's face; also black.
Clockblocker was a contrast in comparison. He'd stepped forwards from Aegis' other side, wearing a skin-tight white costume that was armoured in glossy sections. His helmet, also glossy white, covered his entire head, leaving me to look at a faceless, smooth expanse. On the chest, shoulders, and backs of his hands, grey clocks each told the time at different speeds.
Vista was standing to Gallant's left. Much shorter than the rest of the team, her costume alternated white and forest green. Thin armour panels covered her upper body, boots, and armguards. Her skirt and leggings were covered in swoopy waving lines, white and green, and confused my eyes when she moved. A green visor covered her eyes, but she was grinning excitedly, short dark-blonde hair shifting as she almost bounced on the balls of her feet.
Lastly, Kid Win was sitting near an impressive and slightly intimidating computer setup. Brown hair and pale skin was visible past a high-tech red visor. He also wore body armour, bright red and gold with a few elements glowing those same colours. He was tapping his leg rapidly.
I was still taking them all in as they started introducing themselves. Aegis was first, which made sense as he was team leader. Gallant waved, his slightly posh accent reminding me of nobility. Shadow Stalker didn't move from the back, but Clockblocker got right up to me and held out a hand to shake. "Hey, I'm the coolest Ward, nice to meet you." I couldn't see his face, but the exaggerated movements and tone made his joking manner unmissable. I hadn't dealt with jokes not at my expense in years, so I awkwardly went to shake his hand.
"Wait!" Why did Vista look worried? "Don't sha–"
"– last this long, does it?"
"Nah." Clockblocker and Gallant were talking. "I thought it'd just be short, you know? Little prank to break the ice." Clockblocker wasn't in front of me. The Wards were sitting on couches around a coffee table, eating snacks. But they'd been… Vista just said 'Don't'…
What the fuck had happened to me?
"Uh, hello?" I tried not to sound timid. Gallant choked on some popcorn, having removed a panel from his helmet while the Wards… teleported?
"Hey," Aegis winced and stood up. "I have to apologise for Clockblocker, he doesn't understand when his jokes aren't appropriate."
Jokes. Clockblocker. I got a crawling sensation down my back. What had happened?
"Clock." Vista was glaring at the white-costumed Ward. She reached out from sitting next to Gallant and poked him. But her arms weren't long enough. But the table between them was as thin as a finger – and the table looked normal again. Was that her power? What the hell was going on?
Clockblocker met my eyes, looking… guilty? His helmet was gone, uncovering blue eyes, ginger hair, and a white domino mask. "So, I have this prank where I freeze people when shaking their hand."
My stomach twisted into a knot, before falling down through the floor, joining my suddenly abandoned hopes.
"Shit, ah, I'm really sorry. I can't control how long things stay frozen." He looked sorry.
No one my age had been actually sorry to me in a long time. But plenty of people had played 'pranks'. I wanted to be angry at him for breaking me from the dream, but at least I knew that it would just be more of the same.
Miss Militia had showed me honesty before, but now I understood that the Wards really were just teenagers with powers – exactly why I'd been hesitant about joining earlier.
Actually, where was Miss Militia? I tried to keep my face blank as I looked around.
"Militia went outside to get punishment organised for Clockblocker while you were, ah, paused. Also to report your power to Piggot, I think." Gallant was calm and smooth despite having choked on popcorn a few seconds ago. "But I'd rather hear about your power from you." His smile was charming, but so was Emma's. I didn't want to be comparing the Wards to the Trio, but I couldn't stop the intrusive thoughts.
Deep breath. I could talk about my power. I'd just have to deal with what the Wards were really like later.
"I'm a thinker. Uh, focused on organisations. I can know stuff about people's roles and relationships."
The Wards let out a smattering of thoughtful noises before Kid Win said, "Does any hero in Brockton have a thinker rating?"
"Panacea, but that's about knowing health problems to fix with her healing." I was a little surprised Vista sounded so knowledgeable.
"Well congratulations." Aegis was smiling, eyes thoughtful. "You're filling a valuable niche."
I didn't want to fill a niche. Miss Militia's description of Watchdog didn't appeal to me; I wanted to help my city. And get the Wards to like me. "My power also has a trump aspect."
Now all the Wards were standing, looking excited. "I boost the powers of any parahuman that's in my, um, organisation."
"Bullshit!" Clockblocker was cackling. "You join the team, and everyone gets stronger? You're my new favourite new Ward!" He looked at the rest of the junior heroes, who were also all beaming at me. I felt warm and hoped I wasn't blushing.
(How could he leave me standing here like an idiot then be happy about me joining?)
"New favourite new Ward? No one got that? Come onnnnn." In response to Clockblocker's pun, Gallant groaned, and Vista narrowed the table to reach over and whack him again.
Kid Win leant forwards. "How does the boost work?"
"I don't really know. Miss Militia got to customise her weapons and Armsmaster… started muttering and typing and ignoring everything? I think its individual."
"Do your nerd stuff later! Can you boost us now?" Clockblocker was grinning. I didn't like how quickly he'd moved on from being guilty, but powers were pretty cool.
"I have to join the organisation. Like, be invited." Thankfully, no one seemed to think that was lame. "Um, just warning you that my power will tell me your names – I've signed the NDAs though!" I'd blurted the last bit, but they didn't look phased.
"All the Wards unmask to each other, so don't worry about that." Gallant's voice was encouraging as he gestured with open palms.
Vista was bouncing slightly, looking almost hungry in anticipation. "Aegis come on!"
"Alright then." Aegis had stepped away from the couches, straightening his posture. "Welcome to –"
"Wait!"
My gaze snapped to Clockblocker as Aegis sighed. I'd only barely felt the threads and didn't want to be interrupted.
"What Clockblocker?"
He pointed a side door then shouted. "Oi Stalker! We gotta do the welcome as a group!"
After a moment, the last Ward stalked out of a side door on her phone and glared at Clockblocker from a dark grey full-face mask. She leant against the closed door and flipped him off while texting, glancing between me and her phone quickly. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.
"With Shadow Stalker," Aegis was talking again, "everyone's here. As current Leader…" In his dramatic pause, I could see/feel a connection opening. I started smiling so hard it hurt. "…Welcome to the Wards!"
It hadn't felt real when dad signed the papers last night. It hadn't felt real when the Director said it. But this welcome, the first honestly inclusive moment with people my age in however long, finally felt real. My power surged, I was suddenly, relievedly, aware of
[Wards ENE] [Goal: Be Heroes]
[Aegis] [Carlos Perez] [Ward Leader] [Sure Soul]
[Gallant] [Dean Stansfield] [Ward] [Blind Empath]
[Vista] [Missy Biron] [Ward] [Ignored Expert]
[Kid Win] [Chris Richards] [Ward] [Directionless Inventor]
[Shadow Stalker] [Sophia Hess] [Probationary Ward] [Restrained Aggressor]
[New Ward] [Taylor Hebert]
I could feel a connection to each of them, far stronger than any threads in the Dockworkers Union. I felt my power meeting theirs and the rush of sheer relied and satisfaction was again like riding a rollercoaster and sinking into a warm bath. I –
My smile slipped and died a frozen death. No. That's… I jerked to stare at Shadow Stalker. I couldn't trust my power for this, I couldn't trust…
Shadow Stalker was African American. Used to be a vigilante, rumours saying she was forced into the Wards after being too violent. My mind raced. How she'd walked into the room, the attitude, the slouch against the wall.
I didn't want to recognise it. But that was Sophia's phone.
I burned. I was cold. I started shaking. Everyone was looking at me. Vista looked confused. Gallant started walking towards me.
I flicked a new switch in my head and froze in place.
[Gallant] stopped, frowning with what I could see of his face.
"Hey, what's going on?" My power told me Gallant could see emotions. He sounded confused. "Does your power effect your emotions?" I both saw and felt when his abilities were boosted because he suddenly recoiled. Every other Ward had also jumped or shivered or stilled in place.
A, "huh," from Vista.
A, "Holy shit! That's what I'm supposed to make!" Kid Win ran to a side door.
A, "It's all so clear now…" from Gallant.
I watched without a heartbeat, as the world moved independently of me.
"So, your trump ability is boosting other people's powers?" Asked Aegis.
I couldn't look at him. Couldn't nod. Couldn't move or breathe or do anything but think while the switch in my head was flipped. Clockblocker's power, I realised – but applied to myself. I was frozen in time, watching everyone react.
"I can't feel anything different. Wait do we have to use our … oh. That's kinda awesome." Clockblocker was freezing a piece of paper then catching it as it fell. Freezing it again with a poke.
I frantically focused on each part of their organisation, hoping I'd misunderstood. But my power was constant. I knew everything fully and equally.
Sophia was focused on me, the [New Ward]. My eyes were locked on where she'd been standing just before. She was walking closer, her form filling up my vision and shadowing my future. The edges of my vision blurred.
Sophia paused, frowned. Waved a hand in front of my face. Slowly reached forwards and poked me in the eye. Tapped my rigid, immovable eyelashes.
"The fuck?" She growled.
"Stalker! Don't–"
I released the switch of Clockblocker's power and fell backwards, gasping for the breath my body hadn't been able to draw.
Straightening as quickly as I could, I saw Aegis and Gallant approaching. Shadow Stalker – Sophia! – was standing over me. My power let me look beyond the stern mask, see how she separated herself from the rest of the Wards, how Gallant still wanted to break through to her and how Aegis wanted to prove himself a competent leader.
The two boys approaching were [worried]. Vista and Clockblocker were [realising] something was wrong. And Sophia was trying to be [smug] because her [shock] wasn't compatible with her [contemptuous anger].
I suddenly saw two futures stretching out in front of me.
One was labelled [abusive extortion].
The other, [desperate vengeance].
Both threads were strung between Sophia and I, neither quite strong enough to represent reality, only the undertones of how we related to each other.
I forced breath into my lungs. Felt Gallant's [concern] grow [grave].
"Do you know?" I asked the Wards. I asked the room. Fuck, I probably asked God, too. "Do you know what she's hiding from you?"
(Another part of me, instinctively separated out to try and stay calm, to keep track of what was going on, realised that if my power saw Sophia hiding [dangerous secrets], then she must be actually hiding them.)
"You know how she patrols alone." I declared. "But do you know what she hides?"
(My voice cracked, my spine only held straight by the awareness that I had power this time.)
Shadow Stalker's grim mask snarled and Sophia stalked towards me. "You're mad, Hebert. Did you make up a power to get here, because you make up enough shit back at–"
"Stalker!" Gallant cried, [horrified].
I was splintered into parts. But the parts were whole. Separate, tasked, focused. I was in despair I was searching for a way out I was frantically analysing the [Wards ENE] I was staring Sophia in the face I was trying to breathe. And I was saying whatever I could to hurt her back.
"She thinks you're useless," I pointed to Aegis, "and you're part of the problem," at Gallant. "She thinks you're just a little kid," Vista, "and that your power is wasted on you." Clockblocker's fist clenched.
I stared into that stern mask, into eyes full of rage.
The other Wards were frozen. [Shocked].
(I needed to push her, one more push.)
"Fuck you, Soph–"
She screamed and lunged.
Part of my mind yanked at another power – Vista's – and I was…
Still here.
Except… on the other side of the room.
I turned. "Fuck you, Sophia."
She yelled something to angry to be a word and darted forwards. Only to stay in that exact position, Clockblocker's fingers drawing away from her arm as space itself wavered and returned to normal as Vista lowered her hand – leaving Clockblocker a few feet away from Sophia.
"Right." Aegis stepped forwards, in between Sophia and me. "We are going to hold this until Miss Militia gets back. Its clear there's some history here, but lets all calm down right now, okay?"
My brain was working towards several different things simultaneously. I abandoned four of those things immediately to focus on how I was going to make sure I never had to see Sophia again.
The Wards were still half in [shock] but some training must have broken through. But I hadn't helped matters by airing the most negative lights by which Sophia saw her team.
(What really fucked with me was that it wasn't all negative.)
"She's… bullied me since high school started." I didn't sound calm – I didn't care – they had to know. "She's a psychopath, and now I can finally prove it."
The others were shifting between [empathetic] and [defensive], and I realised I was in danger of being someone coming in and attacking the group.
I needed evidence. My mind whirled.
"Aegis, your power lets me know the condition of my body."
He blinked, filled with [realisation] and [wonder]. "Oh, I… have the same." His skin rippled. "I can control it." He whispered.
"I have four bruises on my arms and legs, all caused by her when I went to school last week." I rolled up my sleeve to show the nasty one near my elbow.
I turned. "Gallant, I know you saw how awful she is."
He winced, gestured at Sophia – still frozen. "I… yes I think so, but she's always angry and… everything happened quickly."
The Wards were distracted, [overwhelmed]. They had too much much happening at once.
But I needed them to understand.
Vista's power let me… displace myself in space. I could shiver and the twist in reality meant that shiver moved me through… I couldn't even describe how the world bent and tunnelled and it was all in one instant.
I teleported right in front of Sophia. Shadow Stalker.
"Unfreeze her." I demanded, staring at Clockblocker.
He was [unsettled], not sure what was going on with the high and the low.
"You froze me earlier," I focused on the faint thread of [guilty conscience], "you owe me. Unfreeze her. None of you are ready to believe me, so you need to see how she acts."
"Clock." Aegis had turned, flying over the coffee table to try to wedge himself between Sophia and I. "We're waiting for Miss Militia."
A beat.
"I do believe that Stalker hurt you," he said to me [placating], "but that makes this a serious issue. We're escalating this and working out exactly what–"
"I know what happened!" I yelled. "She shoved me into a school locker and the whole world left me there for six hours and twenty eight minutes. The police investigated and dropped it, the school…"
My voice broke as one of the trains of thought in my head realised that Sophia being Shadow Stalker was probably why the hell I'd suffered had been swept under the rug. But I'd already realised that I was completely and utterly alone in this world – six hours in an empty metal box had revealed to me that no one cared.
Here – right here and now while I was part of the [Wards ENE] – was my one fucking chance to convince anyone to take my side.
"I know none of you like her. I know this, its how my power works. I know that she's hiding the worst part of herself from you, and that she's done stuff aside from ruining my life." I tried to slow my breathing. "My power works when I'm included in an organisation, and it took two fucking months for that to happen, because Sophia Hess is a psychopath. And I'm only here because broke me enough that I needed a power to know that no one was going to help me."
I was raw. My weakness and soul bared. The Wards could reject me, kick me out of the organisation, and then Sophia would probably murder me in a Winslow bathroom.
But I had to fight against every instinct to say what had happened to me because right now I had powers. From the team. I had to…
I had to…
My thoughts were all going in different directions, and I knew that I was hyperventilating thanks to Aegis' power, but I… I needed to…
"She's panicking." Gallant said. "I believe her, its too… those emotions are too real."
Clockblocker walked forwards. "Hey new girl, answer one question, and then I'll unfreeze her. Alright?"
I only managed to nod because half my brain was using Aegis' power and fighting to stay calm.
"You said… fuck, look, sorry." He shifted, [serious]. "What Stalker did, the uh… locker… you got powers from that?"
I could see how he was on the verge of [believing] me. But the other Wards had gone still. Their emotions darkened and spiked with memories of [despair] and [hopelessness]. I could see how it was part of their connection, something that underpinned the organisation.
So, once more, I peeled back my skin and bared myself in the hope of somehow actually belonging.
"Yes." I choked out.
It hurt.
I hadn't wanted them to know how weak I was.
My dream of a good introduction, of slowly being able to make friends, of fixing my life, was shredded.
But the [Wards ENE] were going to accept me. They were looking at all I was, ugly and crying, and they – each for their own reasons – were forming connections with me and linking [ideological betrayal] with Shadow Stalker.
"Okay," Clockblocker bit out, "I'm unfreezing her on three, so step back."
I used Vista's power to twist and shift and teleport behind the couch.
My heart beat in time with Clockblocker's countdown.
Sophia finished lunging before she realised that everyone had since moved around.
"Stalker, Miss Militia is on her way. They're going to need to investigate–"
Sophia spun to Aegis, then swore.
"You're gonna pay for this Hebert." A hand flicked out, something flying through the air towards me as she lunged –
The room expanded and I was looking at the scene like it was across a busy road. Vista had (literally) made space, and the rest of the Wards were trying to…
Sophia – a misty shadow – slipped through them. In my mind, I felt the connections between her and the team tearing and realised that she'd just made a feint.
I used three of the powers in my head.
A teleport-movement from Vista, to get in front of the door.
Freezing myself with Clockblocker's ability.
And – before the other two – flicking that mental switch that let me interact with the intangible.
Sophia's shadow form flickered and flashed towards the exit. Straight towards me.
I didn't feel a thing.
I unfroze, and turned to find that, yes – hahaha yes – I could use Sophia's power against her.
Clockblocker ran over and used his boot to freeze her once again.
I looked down at the bitch who'd ran head-first into my time-frozen form. She was cradling her head and a few fingers looked broken.
She couldn't hear me, but I said it anyway.
"I hope prison is worse than what you put me through."
[>[>Taylor<]<]
(Present day)
I was browsing PHO in the Wards Base when the door alarm sounded. The light was blue, which meant another Ward coming through.
The door alarm beeped, much quieter, before the doors themselves hissed open. Vista walked in.
Or Missy since she was in civvies. She was 12, going to the middle school linked to Arcadia. I was still trying to feel comfortable around the Wards in general, but Missy had made me feel welcome quickly. (Mostly by being really angry at Sophia.)
"Hey Taylor." She met my eyes and smiled. She'd been the first Ward to treat me like a teammate, not a tragedy they had to make up for.
(Gallant had thanked me for being the older female friend Missy hadn't had in Shadow Stalker. Even if I wasn't able to feel the relationships between Wards, I knew he was reading things wrong. Again.)
I got along with Vista because I didn't judge her for her youth, and she didn't pity me for what had happened with Shadow Stalker. We both spent a lot of time on base. It definitely helped that she had been actually interested in how I'd fought with my powers, not just what my powers did.
We'd fallen into [understanding acceptance] after I started asking her for advice on patrols. Missy had been in the Wards longer than anyone in the room; almost two years. From before that mad tinker String Theory had been Birdcaged for trying to knock the moon out of orbit with some supergun.
"Hey." I smiled back then resumed flicking through PHO.
Vista returned from her room with her own homework. She sat on the couch closest to me. "Can I bribe you for help with this history assignment?"
I looked up, not moving my head. "What's your offer?"
We'd established a kind of trade quite quickly. She told me about what being a cape was really like, I helped her with schoolwork. I knew I'd been awkward at first, but I think we could actually be friends with a bit more time.
"I'llllllll…" She dragged the word out, then leant forwards. Space bent and twisted until somehow she was looking over my shoulder – despite being next to me and much shorter. "PHO. Why are you looking at PHO?"
I didn't judge Vista for her youth, but for some reason it was easier to be comfortable with her in my space than if Aegis or Gallant had been beside me.
"I'm just looking for things people at Arcadia were talking about." I wasn't going to post anything, especially not on my official Wards account, but my introduction from Sunday was still news apparently.
"Oh. Hey, uh." She stopped making physics cry and returned to leaning over the side of the couch – the one she was sitting on. "When I was first announced everyone was saying all this stuff about staying safe online and making sure I didn't go beyond PR's advice. Took me a while to get that PHO is kinda fake."
She giggled at my expression. "It is! I have to pretend to be some innocent child when I write stuff otherwise Image gets mad at me! And most of the regular posters have never been near a fight. We both know what it's like to have powers." Her cheer faded. I nodded.
"Anyway, PHO is a lot of wannabes and crackpots." Missy's smirk came back. "Who else is dumb enough to record a cape fight instead of running away?"
I pressed my lips together. In vain, since my chuckle came out my nose in a huff.
"Exactly." Vista was sitting up straight now, finger pointed primly. It was slightly adorable, but I gave her my focus. "Now stop reading XxVoid_CowboyxX's stupid theory that you're an Empire mole who murdered Shadow Stalker and tell me what the hell Moby Dick is supposed to be about!"
I didn't hide my laugh this time. It felt good to laugh with someone else. A strange good. But warm.
I'd been scrolling through PHO's threads about my announcement conference and subsequent public sightings. It was all one thread; 'Brockton Bay's New Ward: Seneschal.'
Vista was right about most posters on PHO lacking some… self-preservation. Or conversational awareness. But hearing people at Arcadia talk about me – use a name that was barely starting to feel like mine – made me want to check things. Assess. Make sure things wouldn't turn out like Winslow.
My announcement conference had felt rushed. Like as soon as the PRT confirmed my changed power they were fast-tracking anything and everything needed to put me on a stage.
So, it turned out that public speaking boot camp did exist. I must have run through famous Presidential speeches 50 times a day last week. Not to mention the speech they wrote for me. And that they wrote it for me was obvious.
My dad hadn't been in the audience for secret identity reasons. I think he was a little glad about that because he commented on how he would've never known it was me. My month of not knowing how my power really worked had informed me that dad still mentally thought of me as the innocent chatterbox I'd been before Mom died.
The personas that the Image department created for the Wards were not made with us in mind. PR had a need, and we needed to fit it.
I know Aegis embraced that as a part of heroic sacrifices or something. But he seemed rather adaptable, like his power.
Gallant embraced PR because he grew up stinking rich.
Clockblocker was a joker through and through, but had pranked Image by announcing his own innuendo-based name, not whatever Image had planned.
Kid Win had ambitions but got distracted. He focused his frustrations with bureaucracy on tinker regulations anyway.
Vista was the one who really commiserated with me about public relations. Image framed her as the innocent darling. Missy was no innocent. I'd seen gangsters at Winslow look less intense.
Regardless, my hero persona was allowed to be serious and stoic. But only because I really wasn't good at talking to random people. And because the 'edgy character' of Shadow Stalker was 'retired', I was allowed to be a milder version of dark and brooding. I'd spent my announcement conference spreading my awareness through my organisation. It worked a lot better than my trick to surviving at Winslow by focusing on threads I could see. Being constantly aware of my organisation meant focusing almost… dispersed… how overwhelmed I felt.
Much harder to feel like freezing up when you're thinking about six things at once.
I had not felt comfortable up there. But it was easier to imagine the conference as some kind of abstract fight. I'd applied what I learnt from Shadow Stalker – from Sophia. It was easier to focus when I had a plan.
My speech after being announced had talked about things like duty and responsibility and standing up for the people. The writers had taken my comments on board so I would feel comfortable saying it. I felt comfortable with the themes, but the way they were put together and the words used felt wrong. Mom had made sure I knew how important words could be; the speech I gave was far more pro-government than my thoughts were.
The questions after had been pre-prepared. The PRT had vetted the journalists who came along. I still managed to gather the confidence to go off script about bullying. My prepared speech had been impersonal, professional – to fit my 'persona'. So, I made sure everyone knew that I cared about more than the party line, even if I didn't dare shift from my wrists-crossed-behind-my-back pose.
My favourite part of the whole affair was warping on and off the stage. Teleporters weren't anything new, but the intake of breath when I simply appeared or disappeared made me feel… a little more powerful.
Aegis and Miss Militia had been waiting off the side. They gave compliments after I'd finished just as they'd given reassurances before I went on. I appreciated their efforts later (now) but in the moment all I'd wanted was to warp back to the Wards base and tear my costume off.
[>[>---<]<]
The normal school day had ended by the time the rest of the Wards arrived in our underground base. I'd helped Vista with her Moby Dick assignment and started on my own deconstruction of how Arthur Miller presented the link between church and state in the Crucible. Mainstream religion had lost a lot of traction – when Scion, the literal flying golden man, ends up being mute, declaring him messiah doesn't really work out. The really horrible capes like Niblog or the Slaughterhouse 9 certainly didn't inspire faith in a benevolent creator. Also, the Endbringers. And the Fallen that worshipped them. And the Case 53s. S-class threats in general like Ashbeast –
Point was that faith for the future was not in great abundance. Powers were miraculous, but the golden age had been over before I was born.
But I was a hero and my team leader had gathered us to go over tonight's patrol.
"Okay team, I've managed to make this Taylor's first deep patrol." Aegis had us all on the couches, patrol route displayed on the massive TV screen. Deep patrols involved being driven by PRT van closer to gang territory and skirting the edge. Deep patrols were where action actually happened. I'd been wanting one
"We're going from the top of Lord Street, before the Market, then through the northern Docks and turning around before we hit ABB turf. Coming back along the southern edge of the trainyard but getting picked up at the Ferry Station." Aegis hit a button on the console's remote and the map on the big TV zoomed in and displayed an arrowed line tracing the route. "These are our check-in points." Pins appeared along the route. "There's nothing indicating extra activity tonight, but the trainyard is Merchant territory so we'll probably find a few druggies or a dealer."
"Merchants on your first real patrol huh?" Clockblocker – Dennis – was grinning at me. "I bet if you find one high enough and teleport in front of him he'll think he's hallucinating!"
The corner of my mouth turned up without my permission.
"Ah-hah! Progress! Our steward of the serious can be cured of the dour-plague yet!" Dennis had shifted to medieval accents and words in his jokes recently. Some were funny, but I still wasn't going to tell him he was using a few old-fashioned adjectives incorrectly.
I focused on our relationship – still [misunderstanding] – before dedicating my attention to the map and my team. "Who am I going with?"
Everyone looked at me, then back to Aegis.
"I'm leading the patrol as Wards Leader, but Gallant is coming with as ranged support." Aegis looked really nice when he smiled, strong jaw and tanned skin. His long dark hair framed his face. "Clockblocker, you're on console. Sorry Vista, I'll try to get you on Taylor's next patrol."
Missy narrowed her eyes.
"Her next deep patrol too." Aegis was a good team leader. Gallant was the emotion reader, but I always felt like he was invading my privacy. And sure enough, Gallant was feeling [sympathy]. He'd probably sensed my disappointment. Or Vista's [disgruntled resignation].
Aegis clapped his hands together and startled Kid Win – Chris – who'd started making tinker notes in his ever-present notebook.
"We'll do another briefing in the vans over comms. Everyone on duty tonight, suit up. We're gonna sober up some Merchants!"
The line was cheesy, but it worked. I peeled off to my room and pulled my costume off the closet hanger.
I'd argued with a few people from Image for days about what my costume would look like, but it was ended in compromise to win the argument about my cape name. I put everything on, making sure nothing pinched or bunched up. I'd had to figure out how to put things on myself, which made the first wearing a bit uncomfortable. But I was used to it now. And it wasn't the most complicated, unlike Gallant's power armour.
I stretched a little, double checking the fit. Then, for my most (and least) favourite part, I turned to the full body mirror on the closet door.
The mirror showed a costume of two layers. A white bodysuit that darkened to forest green at my joints and gloves. Forearm and shin guards were charcoal, edged with gold and green in a way that looked embroidered. Combat boots, which I appreciated – with gold laces, which… eh.
My face was partly covered by a rectangular reflective visor that went back over my ears and down my jaw before meeting the green-gradient bodysuit that stretched up my neck. The visor was a reflective dark grey, trimmed with gold and forest green on the ear and jaw sections. I had to be careful that my hair was held back, but it gave a cool mane-like effect.
The chest plate was a matt charcoal, with ridges like the lapels of a suit jacket, embroidered with gold and green lines. A white bodysuit – my base layer – showed through in a narrow (and thankfully shallow) 'V'.
More armour extended down to my hips, but flared out a little, looser segmented panels allowing me flexibility and the illusion that I had any curves at all. Lastly, a wide necklace was fused to the chest plate. Like a mayor's chain in style, the links were gold keys, pointing down to a much larger and more ornate gold key the length of my palm that was held in place over my solar plexus.
The mirror showed a superhero. The armour said I was serious. The visor hid most of my expression, reflecting the mirror back at itself. The key was supposed to indicate mystery, which helped the minimal detail on the rest of my costume. And it had lots of hidden pockets.
It had come to feel like my costume. I hadn't designed the whole thing, but people had seen me in it. They associated the new Ward with me. Looking like this, I could be a hero.
The mirror showed:
[Taylor Hebert]
[New Ward]
[Seneschal]
[>[>---<]<]
My patrols so far as a Ward could only be called that by technicality. Wards we weren't expected to give speeches like Protectorate members were, but we were tasked with being visible and friendly.
I wasn't too sure of my progress on the 'friendly', but I'd certainly been visible this week. Capitalising on my recent announcement, they'd said. Shallow patrols to ease me into procedures from the other side of the console. Letting me get used to the public.
That last one chafed. The patrols I'd been on so far were in no way for my benefit. There was no official distinction between patrols, but Vista told me that the shallow/deep description was used because it was better than Wards complaining about 'pushy Image departments.' The Image department was still plenty pushy, so I hadn't got the joke.
Apparently, the joke was the Youth Guard. The independent organisation focused on making sure that the Wards didn't become too involved in crime fighting. But from what I'd heard and from what dad read in the contract, the Youth Guard punished Wards, not their PRT departments. So, there was a joke. I was still under a shitty authority that would condemn me for trying to do the right thing. Principal Blackwell should go work for them as a retirement plan.
My first 'patrol' had been little more than a signing session on the Boardwalk. It had felt to draw everyone's attention as we walked past fancy stores and well-off people. My previous and rare trips to the Boardwalk had been for food with dad. And shopping with Emma, years ago.
But last Monday afternoon, I'd been trailing after Kid Win and Vista in costume. I'd had to spread my attention to my mental spatial map and disconnected biology sense to avoid cringing at the mass of eyes. We'd stopped to sign strips of paper or merchandise or clothing a few times, not letting the crowds get too big. I was pretty sure some people followed us to get second signatures. But my capacity for weird things had been taken up by a request to sign someone's homework. For luck.
And then some cocky blond boy with acne had held up a fancy binder showcasing an ordered collection of cape portraits and signatures. I was impressed by how many signatures he'd gathered so far – there were some heroes from New York in there – but then he got nudged from behind and the page flipped to show a signature from Krieg.
I'd been halfway to signing after he quickly flipped the page back before I actually processed what I'd seen. I looked up, meeting his eyes through my reflective visor. He had blue eyes. Suddenly that excited smile looked like the smirk I'd seen on Empire wannabees heckling me for having an apparently Jewish last name.
The boy had coughed. Probably because I'd frozen, pen an inch from the little card below my portrait. It kind of hit me then, that this kid, who had sought out a signature from a Neo-Nazi supervillain, still wanted something from me. And now other people were looking at me, noticing the disturbance. Fuck, what would a hero do.
I'd straightened, ready to decry the moral filth of his ideology. My jaw had been too tense to get words out of my throat. And I hadn't known what to say anyway, just that I had to say something.
My focus had split, noting that my heart was beating faster and that my teammates had been [concerned]. I managed to mentally step back; I didn't want to give him anything and I wanted him to face some consequence.
In the end, with everyone watching what had accidentally become a standoff, I'd simply said a single word "Nazi" and warped onto a nearby rooftop.
The crowd on the Boardwalk meant there hadn't really been a closer getaway option.
Kid Win found me a little while later, after I'd bit back my… (Rage? Confusion?) and explained what happened to Aegis, who was on console. I'd learnt then that more Wards than just Vista chafed under the bureaucratic restrictions. But they all 'saw the necessity' or 'understood that wars aren't just fought physically'.
My other two patrols had still stuck to the Boardwalk and other popular areas, but they hadn't involved signings.