Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 2008

Danny found out his wife died over voicemail, which probably wasn’t the worst way he could have found out, but it definitely felt like it.

It’d been a busy day at the docks, but not so busy that he couldn’t have answered the phone when he felt it ringing in his pocket. It’d been such an absent decision not to pick up the call. Danny couldn’t remember why he’d ignored the call for the life of him. Had he been talking to someone? Focused on a particularly challenging piece of paperwork? Had he just not wanted to answer?

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Danny got one last afternoon of ignorant bliss before his world fell apart.

“Your wife’s been in an accident. She didn’t make it.”

There was more to the message than that. It was from a PRT line, so they explained that Annette had died in a civilian car crash, not even any cape activities. There was some logistical stuff that Danny couldn’t help but tune out, and a number to call them back to when he got the chance.

It was after hours, but Danny didn’t hesitate to call the moment his brain was able to kick his body into motion. His fingers felt far away as he punched the numbers into his phone, but his vision sort of tunneled around them, too. It was a weird feeling, and Danny tried to will it away as he waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the line.

It was kind of more of the same. Chatter, the representative stopping to check the PRT’s records. Confirmation of what happened, an offer of support resources, not much more. A stranger, Danny realized. Someone who probably knew logically what Danny was feeling right now, but was so far away from that feeling themself that it hurt to keep listening to them talk.

He hung up when the PRT agent was in the middle of their sentence.

Danny sat there at his kitchen table, phone in hand, staring blankly ahead, when the weight of the cell phone in his hand suddenly became unbearable. He didn’t throw it, but it sort of thud when he put the device down on the table a little too heavily. 

The feeling didn’t really go away.

Danny blinked a few times, suddenly realizing he hadn’t blinked for a little longer than he should have. He kept doing it. It wasn’t a rapid fluttering, but a hard, deliberate motion. Then, he focused that same attention on his hands and legs and made himself stand up. 

He couldn’t really feel the ground under his feet as he walked through his living room, nor did he feel his palm on the doorknob as he opened the door. He did feel the cool stone through his jeans when he sat down on his doorstep, though.

Danny let out a long breath, something very heavy overtaking him. Exhaling didn’t help, even though it felt like it should.

A cat walked across the sidewalk in front of his house. It was a ragged thing, one of the strays his next-door neighbor fed, even though it was always peeing on everyone’s outdoor furniture. It paused to look at him, and Danny held out a hand limply, half wanting the cat to come over, to sense his anguish and offer him its comfort.

The cat turned away and kept walking. It wasn’t disappointing, but Danny’s hand felt even heavier when he let it fall.

There was a tingle of agitation in his thighs, and Danny stood up abruptly, even though that blanket of heaviness was still sitting on top of him. He forced himself to walk, but the spurt of energy wore off about halfway down the path away from his front door.

Danny kept walking. He didn’t know he was going anywhere, let alone where he was going, until he was standing at the foot of the Barnes’ driveway.

God, Taylor. He’d barely started processing what happened, let alone begin thinking about… He didn’t even know. The impact? How his life was about to change? How this all would affect Taylor?

Danny swallowed thickly, that heaviness having settled in his throat. His mouth was full of saliva, he realized. He hated swallowing saliva when it built up like this, but spitting it on the Barnes’ driveway felt wrong. Swallowing it wasn’t better, though. He kind of just stood there, unable to make a decision, until it sorted itself out. He had no idea if he spat, swallowed, or just drooled all over himself, but it was over, and his body was ready to start moving again.

He knocked on the door. He heard a distant call of response, and Zoe Barnes, Alan’s wife and Emma’s mother, answered a few moments later. She looked a little harried, but not terribly so. She smiled brightly when she saw Danny. “Danny! What are you doing here? Taylor called Annette to let her know she’d be staying for dinner.”

Danny felt like he was trying to jam two puzzle pieces that weren’t meant to fit together inside his brain. So many things about everything before him just weren’t adding up. The words made sense. So did the logic behind them. But it wasn’t right.

“Annette’s dead,” Danny said instead of trying to figure it out. The light expression on Zoe’s face twisted into confusion, then horror.

“Oh my god, Danny,” Zoe exclaimed, and then she was holding Danny’s hand, pulling him through the doorway.

“She wasn’t home when I got back from work,” Danny went on numbly, the words just falling out of his mouth as Zoe led him to the kitchen table, much like the one he’d left his cell phone on. “I checked my phone to see if she’d called me, and I had a voicemail. They said there was a car accident.”

Zoe put one hand over Danny’s and used the other to cover her mouth.

“Hey, Danny,” Alan greeted casually as he entered the room. He paused, taking in the scene, and his expression shifted. “Is everything okay?”

Zoe got up and got onto her tiptoes to whisper into Alan’s ear. Danny watched his face as Alan processed the news. Like Zoe, there was confusion, then horror, before settling into shock.

Was that what Danny was feeling? Shock? It sort of felt like he was feeling nothing, but there was something overwhelming about it at the same time.

“Wh… Does Taylor know?” Alan asked eventually. Danny didn’t answer. Alan swore softly and turned, running his hand through his hair, before turning back to look at Danny. “I- We can tell them together. Taylor and Emma.”

Danny didn’t say anything for a few long moments. Alan and Zoe looked at each other, then started to move away, and the emptiness Danny was feeling was suddenly replaced by a visceral need to be the one to talk to Taylor. “We can do… Together. We can talk to them together.”

The Barnes nodded, and Zoe stepped away to get the girls. Alan took a few steps and sat down at the table by Danny. He didn’t say anything, but Danny didn’t want him to. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts before Taylor came in.

He felt a stab of guilt when he saw her. Earlier, he’d thought about how he’d gotten a few extra hours of ignorant bliss. He was about to take that from her and end her life as she knew it. The mere thought of pulling her to join the state he was in made his stomach churn.

But he’d felt guilty about not answering the phone when he received the call, too. Taylor would be just as upset if she didn’t know longer than she had to. He couldn’t do that to her either.

Taylor and Emma were talking when they entered the dining room, voices light and excited as they always were. Taylor’s expression didn’t dim at all when her eyes fell on Danny. “Hi, Dad! What’s up?”

Danny tried to smile, but he didn’t think he could. He had to get it together for Taylor, though. What in the world was he supposed to say, though? Maybe it would be easier to just let Alan or Zoe do it. But, no, he knew he couldn’t take the easy way out. Taylor was going to remember this moment for the rest of her life. It had to be him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted softly. Taylor stared at him, and he wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. Zoe and Alan both had a bit of a reaction to the sight of him, but Taylor was thirteen, and honestly, she was not very perceptive. Did she even know anything was wrong? “Could you sit down? I have something I need to tell you.”

Taylor’s eyes raised a fraction. She looked at Emma, who just shrugged helplessly. The two of them sat down wordlessly, clambering onto the dining room chairs.

Danny took a deep breath, made himself meet Taylor’s eyes, and forced the words out. His voice remained even, all things considered, but he thought it still sounded blocky. He explained what happened and tried his best to assure Taylor, carefully watching her face for any sign of what she was feeling right now.

Emma started crying first. It wasn’t that Taylor couldn’t cry or anything, just that Emma cried a lot more easily than Taylor did. But hearing Emma enough to set Taylor off, and that was enough to set Danny and the Barnes off, and soon they were all openly sobbing.

Taylor stood up and moved forward, practically making herself collapse against her father. Danny caught her easily and maneuvered her so she was sitting on his lap. She was a little too old for that, but he didn’t care, because he was holding her, and she was real, and he wasn’t alone anymore.

He hadn’t realized how isolated he’d felt being the only one who knew. He felt terrible for dragging Taylor and the Barnes into his little, broken world, but the sheer relief of it was overwhelming enough to make him cry even harder.

But then another thought hit him. He was still the only one who knew. Alan, Zoe, Emma, and Taylor were crying over Annette, but it wasn’t Annette whom they’d lost. Annette had been gone for a long time. Danny was the only one who knew it was Tommy who’d died.

1989

In hindsight, having a bunch of people hiding in one place was a pretty terrible idea. Danny was twenty, dumb, and panicking, though, so it was the best he could manage at the time.

Anyone who was at all involved in campus life knew who Lustrum was. When Danny first started college, he’d even gone to some of the protests she’d organized. He stopped when she started to get more and more misandrist.

He could put up with a little misandry. Danny understood that women had a lot to put up with from men, but it’d gotten to the point where he’d get looks anytime he joined an event, even if he’d just gone to support a friend. It didn’t really bother him, though. He’d found this way to the local gay scene after a few months, and that was a lot more his speed.

Danny still knew that Lustrum was amassing followers at Brockton Bay University, and that she’d eventually started collecting parahuman lieutenants to lead some of her rallies. He didn’t really keep up on the activist scene, let alone the feminist scene, though, so he hadn’t understood what was happening when he heard screams sounding from around his apartment complex.

Danny thought it was just some fellow college kids having fun, but the screams continued, and he got worried. Tommy did too, getting up from his desk to grab a knife from the kitchen. That almost surprised Danny more than the screaming. “Do you know how to use that?”

“No,” his boyfriend answered, shifting the knife in his hand experimentally. It was the biggest one they had, one Tommy had gotten in a big bag of loose utensils from a friend when they’d graduated. It was a flimsy and serrated thing, and Danny was terrified to cook with it. He didn’t even like the sight of Tommy holding it. “It couldn’t hurt, though.”

Danny grabbed the metal bucket by the door that he, Tommy, and their roommate put their mail in, dumping the contents on the floor. It was probably unnecessary, but the idea of having something to defend himself with made him feel a little better, even if all the noise outside was probably just some dumb frat prank.

Danny still hovered behind Tommy and let his stockier boyfriend take the lead as they ventured out of their apartment.

The screaming got louder when Tommy opened the door. Tommy dropped his knife almost immediately and grabbed Danny’s hand. He didn’t see what Tommy was reacting to, but the sound of the knife falling was enough to spook Danny into running when Tommy started dragging him after him.

“Oh shit. Oh fuck,” Tommy was muttering, mostly to himself, as he thundered down the staircase. Danny dropped the mail bucket, needing to flail his free hand to keep his balance. Danny wasn’t all that clumsy of a guy, but he hadn’t grown up with stairs, so he wasn’t the best at them. Tommy was going fast enough that Danny was worried he might slip and fall.

“What’s happening?” Danny asked when they reached the bottom of the stairs, and he felt steady enough to look around. Out the windows, he saw more people running, but he couldn’t see what they were running for.

“I just saw the blood,” Tommy told him, shaking his head. He started moving for the exit, tugging Danny along after him. “There were, like, three guys on the floor and, like, give girls. It- fuck, Danny, it was so bad.”

Danny heard footsteps overhead, but they were already moving outside. It was past sunset, so Danny couldn’t see that well, but almost immediately, Danny could see a few more scenes a little like the one that Tommy had described. Clusters of women surrounding men on the ground, more men running, Danny couldn’t make sense of it.

Tommy started running again, and Danny tried his best to keep up. Neither of them was in bad shape, but neither was really in good shape either. Tommy went through phases where he tried to go to the gym, and Danny worked by the docks when he needed some extra pocket money, but they were far from runners. Surprisingly, Danny wasn’t feeling winded at all, though.

Danny realized Tommy was following a group of three men and a woman about halfway down the main street leading away from their apartment. The group noticed them and slowed just enough for Tommy and Danny to catch up.

“Do you know what’s happening?” 

“Where are you going?”

“Can we come with you?”

“Did you see what those girls were doing?”

They all kind of talked over each other, but stopped quickly in an effort to save their breath. These people didn’t know anything more than they did. 

Now that they were closer, Danny did recognize some of them. A friend of his and Tommy’s, a girl from his accounting class last semester, one of his neighbors, and a stranger. It made him feel a little better. He still didn’t know what was happening, but they had a plan, and Danny was rattled enough to put his faith in them.

He didn’t know the place they brought him and Tommy to, but he recognized it. It was on a street he’d walked down often enough, but he’d never looked inside. He still didn’t know what it was, even once he was in there. There were couches and a kitchen, but it didn’t look like an apartment. 

There were some older folks inside, not elderly but not college-aged, who looked startled to see them. The guy that Danny didn’t know spoke before they could. “There’s some kind of attack going on.”

One of the older folks looked alarmed. “What do you mean attack?”

“A bunch of girls beating up guys,” the girl from Danny’s accounting class said, “but it’s everywhere.”

“There were girls cutting up some guys in our apartment,” Tommy added, and Danny’s stomach turned. He was glad he hadn’t turned his head when they’d been hovering in their doorway. Part of him was morbidly curious, a desire to see something that would help him better understand what was happening, but he knew he might’ve panicked too much to make it here if he’d seen it.

More people came into the building. From listening in on all the conversations, Danny got the idea this was some kind of makeshift church for queer people, which wasn’t really his thing, but he wasn’t complaining. The Bellhouse, they called it. Danny didn’t know what a bellhouse was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t one. It was more of a narrow townhouse, and it didn’t even have a bell. Danny wasn’t sure how safe it felt, especially as more people began pouring in.

Once they had about a dozen college kids, mostly men, inside, the older folks got off the couches and started directing them to barricade the doors.

“It’s Lustrum’s gang,” one of the girls said, one Danny didn’t recognize. She was hanging back from the rest, looking shaken. “I heard Lustrum was going to… I knew she was going to try something tonight, but I thought everyone was exaggerating! I mean, killing all men? That’s just something people say!”

Danny thought the same thing, but it was true, apparently. The women at Brockton Bay University were really trying to kill all men.

He helped some of the other boys rig the pieces of furniture against each other, blocking the door, then propping up the table in the kitchen to block the window. It was far too small, but Tommy found a desk upstairs that they could put under it. It wouldn’t do much, but maybe it’d look like a real barricade from the outside.

They all sat on the floor when they were done. Danny let Tommy hold him, feeling a little pathetic for how useless he’d been, how it’d been Tommy who got them out of their apartment, but he was grateful for the contact. His heart was pounding against his chest so hard that his teeth hurt. He knew he was safe, for now at least, but his adrenaline was still roaring.

It happened so suddenly, and it was all so extreme. Really, killing all men? Starting with a college? And a bunch of women actually doing it? Danny had only gotten a glimpse, but given how many people had fled here, what happened at Danny and Tommy’s apartment wasn’t an isolated incident. This was so very real.

Some people tried to peer out the window around the barricade. One of the older folks started messing with the radio, keeping the volume low enough that everyone had to stop whispering to hear.

“...at Brockton Bay University. Beware potentially dangerous groups of women in the area. Lustrum suspected to be located on campus, with parahumans lieutenant on the North and East sides of campus and more moving downtown. Parahuman Response Teams en route. Repeat, riots occurring at Brockton Bay University…”

“We ran East, right?” Danny whispered to Tommy. Their apartment was a little North of campus. That meant they were in the danger zone, right?

“You’re better at that kind of stuff than me,” Tommy whispered back. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. Danny took one of his hands to keep him from hurting himself.

“Does anyone have a gun?” someone asked, getting a series of shaking heads and murmured ‘no’s, Danny and Tommy among them. Who carried guns on a college campus? “Pepper spray?”

Both of the girls and one of the guys did, and the Bellhouse had a canister in the kitchen drawer. They briefly discussed who would be getting each of them, and those people moved closest to the door.

“Those aren’t going to do anything against Diamond if she shows up,” one of the boys said, one who looked a little familiar to Danny, but he didn’t know the name of. He looked around. “You know, that girl Lustrum’s got who can turn into crystal? I don’t know any of the other capes, but I remember that one. Her eyes are probably made out of rocks. Pepper spray’s not going to do anything.”

“You spray pepper spray into people’s mouths and noses, too,” one of the girls pointed out, but she sounded uncertain. “Even if she’s made of crystal, she still has to breathe, right?”

They were all a little more nervous now. A couple people got up to look for makeshift weapons. The kitchen here was lackluster, no real knives in the drawers. The best weapon they found was a rolling pin, which Tommy ended up with. Danny got an umbrella, which wasn’t bad, but he didn’t think he was going to be fighting off one of Lustrum’s lieutenants with an umbrella.

They talked a bit in hushed voices, mostly about what they’d seen. One of the guys Danny sort of recognized said he’d been about to enter a gay bar when people started running down the streets. The girl Danny didn’t know saw her boyfriend get castrated. Another boy saw a cloud of what he said was bear mace over a group of maybe half a dozen men. Danny and Tommy’s friend said he saw a guy getting dragged out of his apartment by his hair.

Tommy’s hand clenched on Danny’s hand even tighter. He’d been really brave so far, but hearing all these stories made it feel so much more real.

They all heard when the screams started outside. Danny wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but he knew he had to keep his eyes on the door. He could hear a strange noise that sounded a little like metal scraping against metal, and he knew that there was a parahuman nearby.

He somehow convinced himself that the parahuman wouldn’t find them until he could hear the door being torn off its hinges.

The people armed with pepper spray stood up, spraying the intruder as she tore through their barricade. Danny saw a flash of blue, and he knew it was Diamond. The pepper spray wouldn’t do anything. They were fucked.

Danny had seen pictures of Diamond before. She was a tall, willowy woman with long hair, covered head to toe in a blue, almost green, crystal-like substance. It wasn’t really armor, though, not a coating either. It was like she was made of the stuff, like a statue carved out of the material.

She didn’t have hands, Danny noticed, as Diamond used twin blades at the end of each arm to cleave through the men and women who’d tried spraying her with pepper spray. It looked painful, but Danny was sure they’d died pretty quickly.

Someone started crying, but most people were getting to their feet, including Danny. Silently, he prayed he didn’t accidentally open the umbrella and smack Tommy in the face.

Danny and Tommy were sort of in the middle of the pack, so Danny got a good eyeful of Diamond tearing through a few more college students before she was grabbing Tommy by the throat.

The blades that made up her hands melted away somewhere between getting pepper-sprayed and attacking the people inside. One of the older folks had a belt that he was swinging at Diamond, which really had no hope of doing any damage, but Diamond had to shift her weapon into a hand to bat it away. That alone spared Tommy a bloodier death, human fingers wrapping around the soft part of his neck.

“Tommy!” Danny cried as Tommy was lifted off the ground. Danny stepped forward, umbrella raised, but Diamond’s other hand was still sharpened, so she sliced through it pretty easily. Danny felt the tip nick his chest, her arm swinging hard enough to make him stagger back, and suddenly Tommy was gone.

Not dead. Gone. Physically not there anymore. 

One moment Tommy was dangling by his neck, feet a good few inches off the ground, and then he just wasn’t there. Diamond stumbled back, almost like she’d been unbalanced by the sudden loss of his weight in her hand, and brought a hand to her throat. Danny froze for a moment, not sure what to do, before his survival instinct kicked back in, and he started hitting Diamond over the head with the other half of his umbrella. It wasn’t a very good weapon, the middle part spinning anytime it made contact, but he was hitting her, which no one had done before, so that was something?

“Ow! Danny?” Diamond said, and Danny nearly froze. She knew his name? Did she know him? Danny thought Diamond’s domino mask didn’t really hide her face that well, but he supposed it didn’t really need to, given she was covered in crystal. Maybe she wasn’t crystal all the time? That was how powers worked, right? Was she a classmate of his? 

Danny only questioned it for a moment. He kept hitting her with his umbrella even though he was pretty sure it wasn’t doing anything.

“Fuck, Danny, stop,” Diamond said, raising an arm to block Danny’s blows. “You’re supposed to be hitting Diamond, not me!”

What was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to trick him?

Diamond jabbed her bladed hand forward before making a grab for the rolling pin with her more human hand. “Seriously, stop it.”

Danny lowered his hands, no longer having a weapon to attack with. In his peripheral vision, he was vaguely aware that the few people behind him had frozen. “What are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?” Diamond asked, looking at Danny quizically, then turning around. “Where did Diamond go?”

Had Danny somehow concussed her? “You’re Diamond.”

“What? Don’t even joke about that, Danny,” Diamond scolded, her tone completely unfitting her appearance. Danny could feel the cogs in his brain working to figure out what was happening, but it wasn’t quite working.

“Um, who do you think you are?” one of the survivors behind Danny asked. Diamond just looked confused.

“Um, I’m Tommy? Tommy Creel?” Diamond said, sounding genuinely confused. “What are you-”

Diamond cut herself off when she tried to rest her right hand on her hip, only to poke herself with the sharpened tip. He yelped, then looked down at his hands, and let out a half-scream. The bladed hand morphed back into a regular crystal hand, which seemed to freak her out even more.

“What the fuck?” she cried, looking panicked. She looked up, meeting Danny’s eyes. “Danny- Danny, what’s happening? Why are my hands made out of crystal?”

Danny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re- You’re Diamond.”

“What? No…” Diamond looked at her hands, then pawed at her face. Danny saw her eyes widen with horror, gaze desperately turning on Danny a heartbeat later. “No, no. Danny, it’s me. It’s Tommy. Your boyfriend. I promise. I know- I know I look like this, but I’m me. Please believe me.”

Danny just stared back, heart pounding so loud he could hear it, unsure what to make of the words the figure before him was saying.

Chapter Text

1989 (Continued)

It didn’t sound like Tommy, but it really didn’t sound like Diamond either, not that Danny really knew what she sounded like.

“You don’t believe this, do you?” a voice asked, and Danny turned to see who’d survived. An older, slightly overweight woman, an Asian girl, and a man that Danny was pretty sure was one of Tommy’s friends. Including him, that was four people who’d survived out of almost twenty. And now their killer was claiming to be his boyfriend.

“Please,” Diamond begged. “Ask- Ask me something! Ask me something only I would know!”

Like the movies? Danny didn’t know if that would actually work, but Diamond had known his and Tommy’s names, so maybe that was something?

“Let us tie you up first,” the other surviving man said, which was actually kind of smart. Diamond nodded readily, and the remaining survivors tried to find something to bind Diamond’s hands with, stepping over the blood and the bodies on the ground as quickly as they could.

There weren’t a lot of supplies here, but they’d already known that. The closest thing they found to rope was yarn, but Diamond could probably use her powers to break through rope even if they had it, so it was all more symbolic than anything.

“What’s my last name?” Danny asked first, but even he knew that wasn’t anything.

“Hebert.”

“Too easy,” the Asian girl hissed, voicing Danny’s thoughts.

“You don’t have a middle name,” Diamond tried. That was true, but nothing extraordinary. It wasn’t that hard to learn people’s names. Like he’d wondered before, it was a real possibility that Diamond just knew him in his civilian identity.

He had to ask something that the given person wouldn’t just know. “What’s your social security number?”

“Um, I don’t know?” Diamond peered at him. “Do you know my social security number?”

Danny didn’t. He didn’t even know his own. Why would he ask that? “What, um, what did we have for breakfast?”

“Uh… Bagels? Eggs? I don’t remember.” Diamond looked like she was panicking a little. “I’ve been into toast lately, but we ran out of bread.”

The other survivors looked at Danny. He shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s true. We did have eggs, though.”

“Ask him something only he would know,” the Asian girl told him, as if Danny wasn’t trying to do that. She looked at Diamond. “What are you most afraid of?”

Weird question, but okay. Diamond seemed ready enough to answer it, though he eyed the people around Danny a little nervously. “I’m a little claustrophobic, but I don’t know if that’s what I’m the most afraid of. I feel like the thing you’re most afraid of should be something like losing someone, or losing part of yourself, or going to Hell, or some shit like that.”

It was a very Tommy answer. 

The other survivors looked to Danny again. He nodded. “Yeah. Um…”

They asked a few more questions, some good and some bad. But with each one, Danny became increasingly more convinced that he was, in fact, talking to Tommy.

“Where did I ask you to be my boyfriend?” he asked finally, knowing that the person before him would answer this one right. Part of him just wanted to hear it, to convince his brain that this woman really was who she was saying she was.

Diamond—Tommy—smiled. “I asked you, you sap. We were in your dorm, and your roommate wasn’t there…”

“Okay, I think we’ve heard enough,” the Asian girl interrupted, even though that wasn’t the direction the story was going. They’d just had a good heart-to-heart and confessed their feelings for each other. He supposed these strangers didn’t need to know that, though. “You believe that’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Danny answered, and moved to untie Tommy’s hands, but Tommy snapped right through the yarn as he tried to stand up. He looked a little surprised that he’d done it, but didn’t react otherwise.

“So, um, what do we think happened to me?” Tommy asked, looking down at his body again. He put a hand on his stomach, pushing a little, like he was seeing if he was really made of crystal. He opened his mouth, then looked down at the bodies still lying on the floor, and seemed to forget whatever he was going to say.

“We should call someone?” the other guy suggested, sounding a little unsure. “The radio said the Parahuman Response Team was getting sent here.”

“I don’t think Brockton Bay has a Parahuman Response Team,” the Asian girl responded. She frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “You don’t think they’re sending them from Boston, do you? That’ll take, what? Two hours?”

Danny really had no idea. “We should still try, right? I mean, they’re looking for parahumans, and Tommy is one right now.”

Tommy was staring at his hands again. Danny was having a hard time reading his expression, given the crystal and the fact that he wasn’t wearing his own face anymore. He wondered what could possibly be going through his head right now. His mind was in the body of a killer, and he was surrounded by her latest victims.

They should probably clean those up, shouldn’t they?

They ended up just going upstairs to escape the sight and smell. They called the Parahuman Response Team hotline on the Bellhouse’s landline and, after a not insignificant wait, tried to explain their situation to the operator.

They had to wait about four hours for anyone to arrive. They demanded that Tommy walk out with his hands up, and then they sprayed him with some kind of foam that kept him from moving. Danny shoved down any anxiety the sight gave him and forced himself to talk to every PRT agent he could manage, insisting that Diamond wasn’t who she looked like, that something strange had happened to his boyfriend, and he just wanted help.

The PRT agents were surprisingly agreeable. “Master/Stranger protocol.”

Danny didn’t really know what that meant at the time, but he got the idea it meant they had a plan.

The PRT agents had told him they would contact him about Tommy, but the older woman from the Bellhouse insisted that Danny go with them. What exactly she was worried about, he did not know, but he was grateful for her efforts. He didn’t think the PRT would just lock Tommy up forever if he wasn’t there, but he did actually kind of think that. He didn’t understand what was happening at all, so his mind was whipping up all kinds of worst-case scenarios.

He was separated from Tommy eventually, but at least he kind of knew where he was. The PRT agents had a lot of questions for him, both about what happened to Tommy and just what happened to Lustrum in general. Danny tried to answer them the best he could, even repeating his answers when the questioning kept going until the sun started to rise. It’d already been pretty late when the PRT retrieved Tommy, and Danny was feeling pretty exhausted.

They gave him a light blanket and let him sleep on a breakroom couch for a bit before taking him to Tommy

Tommy was human-looking the next time Danny saw him. Still in Diamond’s body, but human-looking. Not crystal.

“Her name’s Annette Rose,” Tommy explained when Danny got to sit with him. Tommy was chained to a metal table like in an interrogation scene in the movies, and there was just one chair across from him for Danny to sit in. He thought about asking if he could sit next to Tommy, but he was pretty sure the PRT agents would say no.

“She looks kind of familiar,” Danny said, not really sure what else to say. What were you supposed to say to your boyfriend when he was in a woman’s body?

Tommy shrugged. “They told me that she’s the same year as us. English major, though, so I don’t know if either of us has ever had any classes with her.”

Danny was studying business with a minor in psychology. Tommy was studying public health. Not a lot of overlap with English there.

That wasn’t really the important part, though.

“Apparently, her power’s some kind of absorption thing,” Tommy went on, flexing his fingers a bit. “Like, she can’t just turn into crystal on her own. She had to touch stuff to turn into it, and there are some limitations with stuff like how much source material there is. They think maybe she absorbed me somehow.”

That didn’t really make sense. “That doesn’t really make sense.”

Tommy shrugged, which looked a little weird in this new body. He moved like Tommy did, but this body had smaller shoulders. “It’s a theory. Honestly, I don’t even know if they believe I’m me.”

Danny wasn’t super surprised, but he tried to pretend he was. “Really? I feel like they did a lot of tests.”

Tommy shrugged again. “I think they think I’m me, or like that I got absorbed somehow, but they think Annette might be in here with me, or she absorbed me, and I’m dead, but she’s pretending to be me.”

What? Danny hadn’t considered anything like that a possibility. “Do you think she is? In there, I mean, not pretending to be you.”

A frown tugged at the corners of Tommy’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Honestly, I’m a little freaked out, so I’ve been trying to feel for her, but I’m scared that she’ll pop up if I look too hard.”

That was alarming. “Do they have any ideas about how to get you back?”

Tommy’s frown deepened. “No. I don’t think so, at least. I think they’d tell me if they did. They don’t seem like the types to try not to get my hopes up. They’ve been talking to me about joining the Protectorate, actually.”

That was even more alarming. “You didn’t say yes, right?”

“I haven’t,” Tommy said a little slowly, blinking at Danny a few times. Again, it looked kind of weird with his new, feminine face. “Why do you care if I join the Protectorate?”

Danny kind of hated that his first thought was their lease, but leases were stressful as hell, so he didn’t feel that bad.

“We’re still in college! The Protectorate’s been growing, so I bet you’d be able to make a career of it,” Danny told him, and it felt like he was grasping at straws about something he’d barely skimmed headlines about, “but I’m sure you could make an argument about you still getting your degree. Spend a couple more years in college before you deal with all this stuff.”

Tommy didn’t look happy about that, like Danny sort of expected him to. “Danny, I don’t know if I can get my degree.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a woman?” Tommy gestured at himself, and Danny mentally slapped himself. Duh. Tommy wasn’t really Tommy anymore, at least not in the way that mattered to the rest of the world. “I look totally different. Annette’s got her own transcripts and classes and stuff. She can’t just start doing all my stuff, can she? And I can’t do her classes. And what about all our friends? And the people around the school? I can’t just walk around with the face of a murderer!”

Danny hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Still, he believed what he’d said. Tommy deserved to at least finish his last two years of college. “We can talk to the PRT. Negotiate something. It’s their job to help you get your life sorted out, right? You’re a victim of a parahuman crime.”

“I don’t know if that’s what they do.”

Danny didn’t either. “It’s worth trying.”

Tommy agreed, but Danny hadn’t thought he wouldn’t. The trouble was more with the PRT and getting them to listen to him. Not only convince them that Tommy was worth letting free for a bit, but also figure out what exactly needed to be done to let him have his life back, make it happen, and negotiate exactly how long Tommy had before he had to join the Protectorate.

Had to join might not be the right word. They weren’t forcing him, but they were really pushing for it. There weren’t really laws about people who’d done bad things while they’d been Mastered, and even that didn’t really describe Tommy’s situation. There were laws, however, about parahumans who’d engaged in criminal behavior, though. Probation programs. They wanted to put Tommy in one. Danny didn’t really like that.

It seemed like Tommy wanted to join the Protectorate, though. He didn’t really want to leave his life behind, but Danny could tell he was seriously doubting his ability to live his life anymore. Losing his self, Tommy had called it earlier. When he’d been asked what he was afraid of, Tommy hadn’t really given an actual answer, but this was probably along the lines of what he meant. Everything that he knew was fundamentally changing.

They figured out a compromise, though. Tommy would have a PRT case worker to sort out his life and to check in regularly on him to ensure he wasn’t having problems with Annette’s body. Tommy would then join the Protectorate when he graduated with a full membership. Essentially, they’d just negotiated for Tommy to remain at Brockton Bay University during his probation, which was good enough for Danny.

They asked him to pick a cape name to sign the paperwork with.

“Pretender,” Tommy decided fairly quickly. There were some other names he toyed with, but he seemed to latch onto that one. “Diamond or whatever can have her own cape name when I join the Protectorate, but I’m not her. I’m Pretender.”

Later, Tommy would tell him he felt more like Pretender than Tommy, and Danny tried to adjust to thinking about him that way, but it was hard. Even if he didn’t look like him, he was still his Tommy.

He tried to keep telling himself that.

Class didn’t resume for some time after Danny and Tommy were sent back to Brockton Bay, but they weren’t exactly relaxing. Not only did they have a lot to process, their lives were still going on. They had to cook, clean, shop for groceries, do laundry, and deal with all the toils of daily life. They had friends to check in on, people to grieve, and, more importantly, a lot of people to do some explaining to.

They couldn’t tell everyone. It was part of the PRT contract. NDAs. They got paid a lot to sign them, but Danny didn’t think it was really worth it, even though he understood why they couldn’t be telling people. They had to tell most people that Tommy had died, that Annette was his new roommate. Their other roommate had been killed, attacked on his way home from class, so it was believable, but Danny hated the lie.

Some of their friends got to know, but they wouldn’t look at Tommy whenever they met up, and a few of them made comments to Danny about him being straight now, which he didn’t love. It wasn’t a big deal. They were just joking, he knew, but he didn’t like it.

Tommy had it worse, though, especially at the beginning. Danny didn’t really understand what was wrong. It was hard to get him out of bed, he didn’t like changing his clothes, his hair got matted, he didn’t want to go outside, and he hated about a million other little things that he hadn’t had a problem with before. It very quickly got very hard for Danny to be patient with him. 

He still tried, though.

“Do you want to break up with me?” Tommy blurted out about two weeks after he’d gotten stuck in Annette’s body.

“What? No.” How could he think that? Danny was a little hurt, even though he knew there was a lot going on with Tommy that he didn’t understand. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“No,” Tommy answered, but he sounded frustrated. “I’m gross.”

He really wasn’t. Tommy had developed an aversion to showering, but he still did it. He’d been wearing the same hoodie for a few days, and it sort of smelled, but not as bad as it did if Tommy was on one of his exercising kicks. “I mean, you could probably use a haircut, but you’re not gross, Tommy.”

Something lit up in Tommy’s eyes. It was a foreign expression, not one Danny had ever seen on this face, but he knew something caught Tommy’s interest. “Would you cut off my hair?”

What? Where had that come from? “You want to cut it off?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

Danny glanced at his hair. He had never really seen it when it looked nice, but he got the idea that Annette had taken good care of her hair. It was long, dark, curly, and very full. It was something that Danny thought would complete the look if Tommy was trying to look nice. Which he wasn’t, but…

“You could probably still brush out those knots,” Danny told him, and Tommy shook his head. “You can’t?”

“I don’t want to. I don’t like having long hair,” Tommy explained, sounding frustrated again. Something clicked in Danny’s head.

“You don’t like looking like her,” he realized aloud, and he could see the relief on Tommy’s face.

“I’m not a woman,” Tommy insisted, and Danny nodded.

“You’re not.”

“I look like one, though. And I know everyone who looks at me thinks I am one, even though I’m not.” Tommy paused, and Danny could tell he was having a hard time finding the words. He was still acting a little out of character, but Danny was getting it now.

“Like being in the closet again?”

“Yeah. Kind of. It’s not really the same, but it’s close.”

“I think there are women who are born men,” Danny said, tugging at some inkling deep in his mind. He remembered hearing something about that. Sort of like drag queens, but they weren’t just dressing up. “I’m sure there are people who go the other way.”

“I still want you to cut my hair off,” Tommy said, and Danny agreed easily. It made sense now. He didn’t really want to do it, but Tommy just looked so happy when Danny cleaved his long hair off with the kitchen scissors and used his beard trimmer to raze it all down to a buzz cut.

He didn’t keep his hair that way forever, eventually finding something short that didn’t look totally out of place, but it was a breakthrough for Danny. Tommy was acting the way he was because he was in a body that wasn’t his. More than that, he was in a body that was different from his own, and his brain didn’t like it. He didn’t like being a woman. Both physically and socially.

Danny knew he was Tommy, but it took time to look at a woman’s body and not see a woman. Tommy had been pretty secure in himself before, and it was a bit of a shift in their dynamic for Danny to always be careful about how he treated him, but they were finding the balance.

The next two years didn’t fly by. Tommy and Danny lost a lot of friends, so it was pretty lonely at times, even if they had each other. They weren’t completely alone, but the PRT-mandated trips to Boston rarely disrupted any plans they might’ve had. Tommy still had a lot of problems with being Annette, but he seemed to get the idea that Danny saw him as a man, so they were able to settle back into what they’d once been. It was a little different, but it was still Tommy, and Danny loved him.

He proposed during their senior year, right after they’d both finished the last of their finals. Maybe it was a little soon, but it felt right for them. If the Protectorate would be taking Tommy, they’d be taking Danny with him.

September 2008

Taylor wanted to talk about “Mom,” and Danny wanted to be there for her in whatever way she needed, but it was hard to keep talking when it was just so obvious that she didn’t know who her other parent really was.

Tommy was always Tommy to Danny, but over the years, he’d become someone else, too. It was easy to talk about Annette, to talk about his wife and Taylor’s mother. But he was Tommy, Pretender, and Platinum too. There was so much about him that Taylor just didn’t know.

It was like they were grieving two totally different people. 

At least Taylor was grieving the same person as the Barnes were. It was just the two of them now, Alan having driven them home, but she’d had her moment with other people. She believed she was still having her moment with her dad. And Danny was trying to have that moment, but it was really, really hard.

They’d been sitting in silence for awhile when Danny’s cell phone rang, so he didn’t even have to say anything when he got up to answer it.

He kind of just wanted to let it ring, but the last call he’d missed had been a pretty important one, so he didn’t. “Hello?”

“Hi, Danny, this is Battery. From the Protectorate,” Battery said into the phone, as if Danny wouldn’t know who Battery was. They weren’t friends or anything, but he’d met her plenty of times. “We’re sending a PRT van to get you and Taylor.”

“What?” Danny really did not want to go out right now, let alone talk to anyone from the PRT. “Why?”

“I don’t know how to say this, but we have your, um, husband,” Battery told him, and Danny nearly dropped his phone. Husband? She said husband? “He’s here.”

“We’re coming,” Danny said and moved to hang up when Battery quickly interjected.

“Don’t tell Taylor anything yet!”

Danny wasn’t going to, but it felt kind of odd that Battery was telling him that. “Okay. I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

Taylor looked at him quizically when he turned to look back at her. Danny knew she hadn’t heard what Battery said, but even if she had, there was no way she had any idea what was going on.

“That was the PRT,” Danny said a little slowly. “They’re sending a van to pick us up.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t really know. It sounded important, though.” Important enough to interrupt your grieving, he didn’t say.

Taylor frowned. Her eyes were red, and there were the remnants of tear tracks on her cheeks, so it made her frown look like it was at a deeper angle than it really was. “Didn’t you say Mom died in a car crash? Not PRT stuff?”

Danny shrugged. “It was the PRT who told me she’d died.”

Everyone in the Protectorate pretended they were employed by the PRT, apparently. It was an easy cover story, and it gave Tommy plenty of excuses not to tell Taylor where he was when he disappeared to fight some villain who thought it was a good idea to start trouble in the middle of the night. Whatever Danny learned tonight, it would be easy to sell a lie if he had to.

Taylor didn’t seem to understand, but Danny didn’t understand either, and she seemed to get that. They sat in silence again as they waited for the PRT van to arrive, and then continued that silence on the drive over. Danny swore he could hear his heart beating in his chest. Battery said they had his husband. What did that even mean? Was that code for something? Or had they- Well, he didn’t let his thoughts go down that route. He couldn’t afford to let himself hope.

They went to the Protectorate Headquarters, not the PRT base like Danny had expected, but it was dark, and Danny was pretty sure Taylor wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the two even if she had been able to see clearly. The PRT van dropped them off, gave them each a medical mask to cover their faces, and escorted them to the hallway where Assault and Battery were waiting for them.

“Hey, you, two,” Assault greeted, voice a little quieter than Danny had ever heard him. He looked down at Taylor and smiled softly. “You want to come sit with me while your dad talks to Battery?”

There were two chairs just outside the door that Danny assumed he was about to be brought through. Taylor nodded, and she and Assault took the seats. Assault was good with kids, Danny recalled Tommy saying. He hadn’t interacted with Assault much, but he could see it. If he was going to be separated from his daughter, Danny trusted Assault enough to make sure she was okay.

“Don’t worry about us,” Assault told him, looking up, and gave Danny the shooing motion. Danny looked to Battery, who gave him a small nod and led him through the door.

It was a room a lot like the interrogation room where Danny had seen Tommy as a non-crystalized Annette for the first time after she’d absorbed him. It was mostly empty, save for most of the Protectorate being in the room and a single metal table where a middle-aged man in a tank top and pajama pants sat.

Danny didn’t recognize him, not immediately. He’d lost his hair, first of all, and he was a lot bigger. Not actually big, but sturdier. More muscular, but not overly so. He had smears of blood on his face, too, but when he tried to pinpoint the injury where the blood was coming from, Danny recognized some of his features. Then he recognized the man himself.

“Tommy?” He couldn’t believe it. He was different, and he looked older, but this man looked so much like Tommy.

“Hi, Danny,” Tommy said softly, giving Danny a smile he knew but had only seen on Annette’s face the past two decades. Danny knew it was him in an instant and hurried toward him, practically throwing his upper body across the table to wrap his arms around his husband. His Tommy was safe.

Chapter Text

September 2008

Pretender thought he’d die in a much more interesting way than a car crash, but there was probably something poetic about going out this way. Something about how he shouldn’t expect the world to revolve around him, or something about not having control over his life… He didn’t like it, but an odd calm settled over him when he felt that first, sharp bolt of pain stab through his body.

He knew he was going to die, and there was just something nice about accepting that, even if he really didn’t want to die. But he hadn’t seen the car until it hit him, and there was nothing within reach that he could absorb to protect his body with, so that was that.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d been hit, Pretender was falling. Not far, maybe a foot. He landed sort of on his head, and he felt shards of glass in his face. He groaned and pawed at it, trying to assess the damage, when he felt something warm and wet dripping onto him.

Pretender opened his eyes and saw his own face staring back at him.

Upsidedown, dangling over him, body suspended by the seatbelt he’d put on just minutes ago, was Annette Hebert.

He screamed and tried to scramble back, but there was more glass behind him, so that was a no. He reached up and tried to absorb the metal frame of the car, but nothing happened. He looked at his hand, and a foggy confusion blurred something in his mind. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the fact that his powers hadn’t worked.

The urge to look up again seized the muscles in his neck, but Pretender resisted. He squeezed his eyes shut and crawled out through the broken windshield, ignoring the pain of glass slicing up his palms and knees. It felt like the shards were going right through his pants.

When he stood up, he realized he was wearing pajama pants, not jeans like he’d thought he’d been. Had he gone to the Protectorate HQ in his pajamas? He didn’t think so. Armsmaster would have said something…

There were people around him. People getting out of their cars, people running over from across the street. Someone was touching his arm. Was he wearing a tank top? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn one of those.

“Sir? Sir, hey. I’m going to have you sit down, okay? You look hurt pretty bad.”

Pretender looked at the person touching him, the face of a young man filling his vision. A blink and it was gone, along with the pain in his face, palms, and knees from the glass.

Pretender touched his face again, feeling unbroken skin and unfamiliar skin. He was getting an idea of what was happening.

It’d happened before. He’d been a little hysterical then. Panicked, which he thought was pretty reasonable, but that was twenty years ago. Since then, he’d stared Endbringers down and fought countless villains. Suddenly being in someone else’s body again was nothing compared to that.

“Someone call the PRT hotline, will you?” Pretender called out, but people were already running away. He sighed. He had to do everything himself, wouldn’t he?

The new body he was in had decent shoes on, so he had no trouble walking through the glass back to his totaled car again. It’d gotten T-boned and rolled onto its roof, he could see now. Kind of a pain, but Protectorate salaries were good enough that it wasn’t a huge problem.

Pretender reached in, more mindful of the glass than he’d been before, and rooted around for his phone. It’d been in his hand when he was hit, which not only was stupid but also made it hard to find. He spent a good few minutes looking, only to find it shattered when he heard sirens.

He stood up, straightening as he looked at the ambulance coming toward him, and he felt that shift again. Another blink and he was in the driver’s seat.

He hadn’t meant to, but at least this time he had the wherewithal to hit the brakes.

“Dude!” the person in the passenger seat, a man in an EMT uniform, cried out. “Pull closer! The wreck is right there!”

They wouldn’t be able to do anything. Or, well, Pretender hadn’t checked to see if there was someone in the other car, but he didn’t really care. In a voice that wasn’t his own, he asked, “Where are we?”

The EMT looked at him like he was crazy, but told him the name of the street they were on. Pretender reached down, pulled this body’s phone out of his pocket, and dialed the PRT hotline. The EMT gave him another look but seemed to recognize that there were other priorities. He opened the ambulance’s door and ran out onto the street with the other emergency service people to investigate the car wreck. Pretender watched them while he waited for the operator to answer.

He gave them the address and explained that they’d find Annette Hebert’s body on the scene, but decided against explaining what was really going on over the phone. That’d just cause more problems. He’d just explain when Armsmaster or whoever got here. 

First, he had to figure out how to get out of this body.

Now that he had a moment to slow down, he had the chance to think about what had happened. Pretender had been in Annette’s body, just like he’d been for the past twenty years, and then he’d just sort of fallen out of it. Then he hopped bodies again twice without really meaning to. He’d learned that he didn’t need someone else’s body, though. He’d recognized those pajama pants, even if he’d been a little too out of it to recognize their importance. He’d been himself for a bit. That meant he could go back. After all these years, he could go back.

He stepped out of the ambulance and tried focusing. The EMTs were running back to the ambulance, though, which was pretty distracting. One of them paused to yell at him, and Pretender found himself in that one’s body.

“What the hell?” the driver, the EMT he’d just been inhabiting, shouted. The other EMTs paused to look at him. The driver pointed at Pretender and said, “There’s some kind of Master! He was just controlling my body.”

Shit. He’d hoped to get out of here without anyone noticing, but he didn’t think that was happening.

He booked it, ignoring the EMT’s shouting after him.

The PRT vans chose that moment to show up, appearing at the other end of the street. Good. Pretender didn’t want to involve civilians in this any more than he had to.

He jumped into an agent’s body the moment they stepped out of the van. He stopped and started patting around his thighs, feeling for his PRT-issued phone. Now that he’d had another couple minutes, he was realizing he probably should have told the PRT hotline to put Master/Stranger protocol in effect, so the Protectorate knew what to expect when he started talking to them.

He found the guy’s phone, but quickly ran into a barrier. “Anyone know this guy’s passcode?”

Orange filled his vision, and Pretender realized he was getting sprayed with containment foam. Rude. That was what he got for trying to make light of the situation.

Pretender was getting an idea of what he had to do to jump bodies. He switched to another agent without even having to look in her direction.

This one had a canister of containment foam on her back, too. He aimed the nozzle at the agent who had just been foaming him. Escalating the situation, maybe, but he kind of wanted these guys out of commission before the Protectorate showed up.

There were just a few stragglers left when he heard the roar of Armsmaster’s motorcycle. The agent whose body he was using had pretty good eyesight because from one glance, he spotted Miss Militia behind Armsmaster on the motorcycle and Velocity keeping pace with them.

He chose to jump into Miss Militia’s body. He didn’t want Velocity to wipe out if he hopped into his body, and getting Armsmaster’s Tinker brain sounded like it’d be a huge pain.

“Pull over,” Pretender said into Armsmaster’s ear. “Master/Stranger protocol. Security phrase: June. User: Platinum.”

Armsmaster pulled over abruptly and got off his bike. Pretender, still in Miss Militia’s body, had to put her feet on the ground to keep it from falling over. Velocity had to loop around so he could stop beside them. “Armsmaster? What’s wrong?”

“Master/Stranger protocol,” Armsmaster answered, putting his hand on his halberd’s holster. He tilted his chin forward ever so slightly, gesturing at Pretender. “She says she’s Platinum.”

Velocity paused, and Pretender could imagine him raising a brow under his mask. “Platinum, who we just were told died in a car crash?”

“I don’t really get it either,” Pretender responded, and man, was it weird to hear Miss Militia’s voice through her own ears. He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m going to give Miss Militia her body back. I’m surrendering, so don’t attack me when I appear.”

It would have been really cool if he had ejected right at that moment, but he didn’t, so he was just left standing there with Armsmaster and Velocity staring at him.

“Give me a minute,” Pretender said, trying not to look or sound embarrassed. “I’ve never done this before.”

Neither Armsmaster nor Velocity said anything, but at least they weren’t attacking. Pretender half expected them to. This must be really weird from their perspective. Hell, it was really weird from his own perspective, and he’d been living in someone else’s body for half his life.

He felt that shift again, and he heard Miss Militia gasp behind him. He glanced to his side, watching her lurch as she realized she was holding Armsmaster’s motorcycle up. He looked back at Armsmaster and Velocity and raised his hands again.

“I’m Tommy Hebert. Believe it or not, I’m your teammate, Platinum,” Pretender told them, glancing between the three of them. He flashed a grin. “Take me into custody, will you? I don’t really want to spill all my secrets just out here where anyone can hear them, yeah?”

Pretender had thought they’d known, but they hadn’t. That became clear after his first attempt to explain who he was, prompting Armsmaster to summon the rest of the Protectorate and look over his files.

“Pretender,” Armsmaster read aloud to a room of Miss Militia, Velocity, Dauntless, Assault, Battery, and, of course, Pretender himself. Back in his own body. 

He hadn’t seen himself yet, but poking around his body told him he still had a lot of glass in him, he’d put on some muscle, and he’d lost his hair. So, not really his own body, but his voice sounded like his own, and he had all the right anatomy, so he had that going for him.

“Thomas Creel, presumably killed by Annette Rose, also known as Diamond, a parahuman lieutenant of Lustrum, in 1989,” Armsmaster said. He wasn’t wearing his mask, none of them were, so Pretender could see his eyes skimming over the tablet he was holding. “PRT investigation determined that she activated her absorption powers on him, and Creel has been piloting her body ever since as Protectorate member Platinum.”

“It’s Tommy Hebert, actually, but I prefer Pretender,” Pretender told them, trying to grin even though he didn’t really feel like smiling. He’d thought of himself as Pretender for a long time now, but that was partially because he knew he couldn’t be Tommy anymore. That was different now, though.

“I didn’t think her power worked like that,” Miss Militia murmured, looking over Armsmaster’s shoulder at the file. She looked up, eyes meeting Pretender’s. “I guess it wasn’t her power, though. You must have triggered.”

Pretender nodded. “And I just didn’t realize until her body died, and I was thrown out.”

He saw nearly everyone wince at that. He tried not to frown at that.

“You never knew her. It was always me,” Pretender pointed out, leaning forward a bit. No one was meeting his gaze. “And she was a serial killer. Or, um, spree killer, if you want to be technical. I saw her kill fourteen people before she got me.”

The heroes looked even more uncomfortable at that. Pretender knew that he was being unnecessarily harsh, but it bothered him that they were acting like this. Their friend wasn’t dead. He was right in front of them.

“Sorry if I’m having a hard time believing this.” Battery ran a hand over her face and into her hair. “I mean, we all knew Annette. You expect us to believe she was… Well, not Annette?”

Pretender knew they believed him because they’d all already unmasked. It was a little annoying that they were still doing all this.

“We’ve known you since the Brockton Bay Protectorate formed,” Dauntless spoke up a little quietly. “You, me, and Armsmaster. And you never told us?”

“It was on my files,” Pretender pointed out, even though it wasn’t really true. Pretender had a different file than Platinum, and no one here had any reason to seek out Pretender’s files. He sighed. “I had a bad experience with my last team. I didn’t want a repeat.”

He’d meant that to be the end of it, but everyone was looking at him like they were expecting him to continue, and the story just kind of came out on its own…

1991

Pretender was excited to join the Vegas Protectorate. It was a chance for a fresh start, and Vegas was a really unique team in the cape world. It was really something to be chosen for it, especially since the team was so new.

His excitement died during his first meeting with the two squad leaders.

“I’ve been saying your powers make you a good fit for the Vegas Light team,” Stunt was saying as they walked through the Protectorate HQ’s halls. Pretender had expected a more formal introductory meeting, but that wasn’t how Vegas ran, apparently. “I mean, a woman who can turn into crystal? It’s perfect for the show world!”

“She’s got experience running with a parahuman gang,” Blackout argued without missing a beat. It was clear these two had been at this for awhile before Pretender arrived. “And her power’s got a lot more applications than just being flashy. She could turn her hands into lockpicks or wirecutters. She’s meant for the Vegas Dark team!”

“Uhh…” Pretender felt a little awkward speaking up, but it had to be done before these two got too far into it. “Did you two read my file?”

Stunt and Blackout blinked at him for a moment. Stunt was the one who answered. “Platinum, also known as Annette Hebert. Material absorption and minor shapeshifting, with a Breaker state determined by what kind of material you come into contact. Preference for a crystal form. Ex-lieutenant for Lustrum in Brockton Bay. Formerly known as Diamond.”

Shit. He’d never even considered that his new team wouldn’t know he was, well, not Annette. “I’m not Diamond. You should’ve gotten a file about Pretender.”

Stunt and Blackout stopped. It was Blackout who spoke this time. “We only got notified about one new member.”

He backtracked. “No, um, I’m the new member. Platinum. But I’m also Pretender. I’m, um… This would have been so much easier if they sent over the right power. Annette kind of… absorbed me? During her killing spree. You know, she was trying to kill men. She grabbed me, and I guess her power activated, and I ended up in her body. Like, she absorbed my soul or something. My name’s Tommy Cr- um, Hebert. I’m not Annette. I was never in a gang or anything. I’m not even that good at using my powers yet.”

Stunt and Blackout stared at him for a long moment. Pretender tried not to fidget while he waited for one of them to say something. Should he have just gone along with it and asked his case worker to send them the file? It would be awkward, but they could’ve just pretended no one ever made the mistake.

“You can have her,” Blackout announced, putting his hands on his hips as he turned to Stunt. “Maybe she’ll be good on the drag scene.”

Pretender felt his face heat up as anger flashed through his system. “I’m not a drag queen!”

“We know. You’re some kind of… Master 0,” Stunt said, nodding along slowly. “This does kind of answer the question of which team to put you on. You don’t have the criminal background to excel in the underworld, so we’ll lean into the flashy parts of your powers and have you work on building connections in the show world.”

It sounded a lot better when Stunt phrased it like that. He’d been aware that the Vegas Protectorate joined the performances from time to time before he’d been assigned to the team, and he’d been told on the way over that having members sink roots into the key elements of Vegas life was a core part of the team’s success. Pretender didn’t think the shows were really his thing, but he wasn’t really meant for Blackout’s darker corners either.

The conversation was a little more stilted after that, but they were moving forward. Stunt and Blackout introduced him to the other members of the team and talked a little bit about what his first few weeks would look like. They were going to ease him in, which gave Pretender some peace of mind, but he was still feeling a bit off-kilter when he got home to his new apartment to meet back up with Danny.

“How was it?” Danny asked as he buttoned up his shirt. He and Pretender had been planning on going out for dinner to celebrate Pretender’s first day with the Protectorate, which Pretender was still kind of looking forward to, even if he didn’t really want to head back out.

Pretender shrugged as he rummaged through the closet, looking for something to wear. He’d gotten used to women’s fashion, but he still envied how easy it was for Danny to just pick a button-down and a pair of slacks. He hadn’t appreciated it when it was that easy for him.

“They didn’t know I was Pretender,” Pretender told him, just wanting to get it out. In his peripheral vision, he saw Danny freeze. He tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed. “We figured it out, but it was still kind of weird. The Protectorate doesn’t really have connections to the drag world, apparently, so they want me to take point on that.”

“Did you tell them you’re not a drag queen?” 

“Yeah.” Pretender swallowed and turned around, a blouse in hand. “It’s probably the best option for me. The other Protectorate members are in, like, the circus or work with the casinos. I don’t know anything about any of that. At least I’ve been to some drag shows.”

Not many. Being put in Annette’s body ruined Pretender’s social life back in college, but there’d been a time he’d gone out to those sorts of things.

Danny nodded along. “I kind of forgot that Vegas is known for shows. I was kind of asking about what it’s like for gay people here, but…”

Pretender remembered today had been a big day for Danny, too. “How was it meeting the capewives?”

Danny made a face at the word. “It’s weird to call it that.”

“Come on, no one thinks you’re my wife.”

Danny shook his head. “Vegas doesn’t have a Wards program, so the younger members’ parents are in the same group as partners. It’s just more of a family thing.”

Oh. Capewives was a lot catchier, but Pretender could see why the distinction was important. “How was it meeting the capefamilies then?”

“It was alright,” Danny answered, and the way he said it told Pretender that it wasn’t alright.

Pretender put down the shirt he was holding and sat down on their bed. “What happened?”

Danny moved to sit next to him. “It wasn’t really anything that happened. It was… It was just weird. They didn’t know- Well, they didn’t know you’re you, which I guess was because the PRT didn’t send your files over right, but I thought they just hadn’t been told.”

Pretender could see how that would’ve been awkward to explain. “Were there any problems?”

Danny shrugged. “Not really. There- There were other gay people there, you know? But they were saying I’m married to a woman, so…”

This wasn’t anything new. Pretender and Danny had both lost a part of themselves when Pretender ended up in Annette’s body.

“I didn’t really know what to say. I wanted to explain that you’re a man, but at the same time, it wasn’t really about you. It was about me,” Danny went on. He rubbed his thumbs up and down the sides of his index fingers, gaze fixed on his hands. “Being gay’s not just about, y’know, doing gay stuff. And I don’t think they really got that.”

Pretender understood that. It was like how he was a man even though he looked like a woman, but he’d been where Danny was before. He’d come out as a gay man as well and dealt with plenty of people insisting he was straight. 

“Want to go to a drag show instead of going to dinner?” Pretender asked abruptly, making Danny’s head snap up. “We can pretend to be tourists. We can still get something to eat somewhere, but it’d be nice to do something like we used to.”

“Are you sure?” Danny asked. He rested his hands on his lap, no longer twiddling with his fingers. “You’re probably going to see a lot of shows for work, and I know you wanted to try one of the restaurants around here.”

Pretender shrugged. “We live here now. We can go to a restaurant whenever we want.”

The same could be said about going to a drag show, but Danny knew what he meant. Their first attempts at finding their place in this new city hadn’t gone so well, so they were going to give it another try. And they would keep trying until something worked.

1994-1995

Danny thrived in Vegas in a way that Pretender really hadn’t expected.

He got a job in the drag queen union, which Pretender hadn’t even known was a thing. It made it a little easier for Pretender to build ties as Platinum. Who knew drag queens knew so much about the goings on of the city? Pretender got more good intel from Danny’s friends and people he performed with when Platinum made an appearance than Nix and Leonid got from their casino buddies or their vehicle Tinker got from the racing scene.

Pretender supposed he would say he thrived too. The drag scene welcomed him both as Platinum and as Danny’s wife, which was a little surprising. He still had to correct his teammates on how they talked about him constantly, but he actually fit into the team pretty well. Fighting villains, going undercover, schmoozing it up with gangbangers, and following the Dark team’s lead on more than a handful of off-the-books missions did wonders for Pretender’s confidence in a way that he hadn’t known he was missing.

Pretender hadn’t thought he was that kind of guy. Some moral inkling cried out when he’d gotten his first glimpse of the sheer duality of the Vegas Protectorate, the flamboyant heroes revealing themselves to be real scoundrels, but it was also so easy to fall into it. It was like he was embracing some growing part of himself that he hadn’t known was there.

There was just something so thrilling about it. Going to shows as Platinum, seeing the Protecorate merchandise with his likeness, and tourist fans gushing about how they’d hoped to see him, then in the background, working to get intel on some villain team’s newest plan, deceiving, beating, blackmailing, and bribing whoever they had to in order to meet their goals.

It sometimes made him feel a little guilty to go back home to Danny and know his husband was blissfully unaware of what the Vegas Protectorate was really like, but they were happy here, and Pretender didn’t want to change that.

Then, he got pregnant. 

It was a little ironic, two gay men accidentally getting one of them pregnant. It’d taken forever for Pretender and Danny to get comfortable enough with Pretender’s new body to even try anything remotely sexual, but Pretender knew what must have happened when his period hadn’t come a week after it was supposed to.

Pretender didn’t track it, not wanting to think about his period more than he had to, but his fear of pregnancy was very real and something he definitely couldn’t ignore. He’d tricked himself into thinking he’d gotten pregnant before, and Danny always assured him that he wasn’t, that they were always careful, or so they thought. Pretender always listened to him, but a pregnancy test put an end to that.

He took four before Danny made him stop.

“What are we going to do?” Pretender moaned, sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. Danny was next to him, rubbing his shoulder gently, but his touch was light enough that Pretender knew he was distracted by his own thoughts. “I can’t be pregnant! I can’t give birth!”

He could imagine it. His belly swelling up, his boobs getting even bigger, some little creature he wasn’t even related to coming out of a place on his body he couldn’t even look at without getting a little lightheaded. It was awful. He hated it.

“We can- I mean, we have options,” Danny said slowly. “C-Section, abortion, adoption, keeping it…”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Pretender groaned and let himself fall back on the bed.

They decided to keep it in the end. As overwhelmed as he was at the prospect of pregnancy, Pretender could see Danny’s… He didn’t know. Hesitancy? He felt it too, once he’d realized. This was Danny’s kid inside of him. Not really his, but that didn’t really matter. It’d been five years now, but this still felt like Annette’s body, not Pretender’s, and being pregnant wasn’t going to change that. He wasn’t getting the parental feelings he should have been feeling because this wasn’t really his kid.

But it was Danny’s, and that was enough to make him feel something.

Pretender never really thought about whether he wanted kids because it’d never been an option, and the disgust he got from the thought of being pregnant kept him from considering it once it became possible. He could picture it, though. Coming home to a kid running around the house, picking out little clothes for them to wear, Danny lying on the floor to play with their son or daughter…

It was a whole thing with the Protectorate and PRT to take maternity leave. He had to stop appearing in costume really early to keep anyone from suspecting Platinum was pregnant in the first place. He had to participate in a big fight before he left, so Image had something to work with to explain his absence and keep his popularity up while he was away. And even worse, tell his teammates.

Taylor’s arrival was one of the best things that happened to him, but Pretender knew there was no bouncing back from all his teammates seeing him pregnant. He knew now that transgender men existed, that men could get pregnant, but he looked like a woman, and his teammates saw him that way. The pregnancy just cemented it.

“Hey, you’re the new mom, right?” a new member to the team greeted him when Pretender returned from his time off. He’d known they got someone to pick up his slack when he was away, but it was still a little jarring to meet him for the first time. The man grinned and took his hand theatrically, kissing the back of it. “The name’s Satyrical. Don’t worry, I kept your seat warm for you, but I’m enough of a gentleman to share it with a lady as beautiful as yourself.”

Pretender just stared at him. “You know I just had a baby, right? I’m married.”

Satyr sobered up a bit, expression going serious for a moment. “I’m just joshing. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

He sounded genuine, but the rest of the team couldn’t even call him by the right name, so Pretender wasn’t feeling all that optimistic. He just shrugged and let Satyr have his fun.

He ended up working with Satyr quite a bit. He was a powerful cape, and his shapeshifting ability was a great asset to both the Light and Dark teams. More importantly, he was gay, so Stunt put him in Pretender’s old territory while he’d been away, and they worked together surprisingly well when Pretender returned. 

It wasn’t enough to get Pretender to start fighting for his masculinity again, though, and it wasn’t enough for him to decline the offer to transfer to Brockton Bay when his hometown started assembling its own Protectorate team.

He didn’t bother hoping he could be Pretender instead of Annette there. It was probably better for Taylor anyway.

September 2008

Pretender knew the Protectorate members weren’t really getting it, but they listened, so that was something.

“It’s been ten years,” Armsmaster murmured, and Pretender could feel the weight of the number.

“You haven’t told your daughter?” Dauntless asked, saving Pretender from having to respond to Armsmaster’s thing.

“No. Danny and I talked about some ways we could ease her into it, but-” Pretender cut himself off. “Shit, Danny and Taylor. I called the PRT to tell them Annette was dead. That was hours ago. Do you think they told them?”

The demeanors across the room shifted. They didn’t really know Danny and Taylor, most of them not being Brockton Bay natives and not having family here, but Pretender still talked about them plenty.

“Assault, Battery?” Armsmaster asked, but it sounded more like an order.

“On it,” Battery said, already moving.

“We’ll bring them here,” Assault told Pretender, just a few steps behind Battery. “Do you want Taylor to see you like this?”

“No.” The answer came pretty easily. How in the world was he supposed to explain this to her? “She just found out her mom died. I think going from that to finding out she never had a mom in the first place would be too much. Let me talk to Danny and we’ll figure something out.”

He didn’t know what yet, but he could worry about that later. First, he had to let his husband know he wasn’t dead.

Pretender knew he looked different. Velocity had let Pretender use his phone as a mirror once Battery and Assault confirmed Danny was on his way. He was bald now, which he’d sort of known, head completely smooth like he’d shaved it. He was older, too, which felt foreign but kind of right at the same time. It was all a little different, not the version of himself that existed in his head, but it was still him. Tommy’s body, not Annette’s. His.

Pretender still felt a thrum of nervousness when Danny entered the room, and his eyes roamed over him. Would he recognize him after all these years?

“Tommy?” Danny called out a little hesitantly, and Pretender felt his stomach relax with relief.

“Hi, Danny,” Pretender said, voice barely a whisper. He could feel himself smiling, the smile only growing when Danny ran toward him. He felt his husband’s arms around him, a feeling he knew well but felt so much more right in this body. Danny wasn’t a big person, but Annette had been so thin. Pretender’s shoulders were bigger now, so Danny’s arms had to slide over them, his arms wrapping around the back of his neck. More like how they used to hold each other, not how Danny would hold Annette.

Danny leaned back a bit, not quite letting him go, to look at his face. Pretender watched as his eyes flickered over his face. He felt Danny move one of his hands, resting his husband’s jaw in the crook of one of his palms, and run his thumb over one of his cheeks. The blood on his face was dry now, the glass taken out, but Pretender could still feel a crumbly sort of feeling as Danny tried to wipe something off.

“It’s- It’s really you,” Danny breathed. He leaned back more, so his knees were on the ground, but he was still reaching over the table to hold onto Pretender. Out of the corner of his eye, Pretender saw Dauntless step out, presumably to get Danny a chair. Danny didn’t notice, Pretender solely holding his attention. “How- How is this happening?”

Pretender gave a rough explanation of his theory, of how he’d triggered and how it’d been his powers and not Annette’s that trapped him in her body. He wasn’t sure if Danny got it or not, but he nodded along like he did. “I had no idea until I was looking at myse- her. Her, not me. I was her, and then I was looking at her, and I was me. I could jump in and out of bodies this whole time, and I just never knew.”

Dauntless chose that moment to walk back in with a chair for Danny. Danny took it immediately, scooting it over so he was right next to Pretender. Dauntless smiled a little at that before his expression grew serious again, and he told them, “I wish I could let you two have your moment a little longer, but we still have some things to figure out.”

“I don’t know how we can tell Taylor,” Pretender told Danny, shifting in his seat a little bit so he was facing him. Danny frowned a bit, but nodded along. “I mean, how is she doing right now?”

Danny grimaced. “Not great. You’re her mom, Tommy. You died.”

Danny said that like his words should have more weight on Pretender than they actually did. Pretender didn’t know why they didn’t.

“I’m obviously not a parent,” Armsmaster spoke up, as if he had to tell the people in this room that, “but I do think that keeping her in the dark would be best, at least until we understand the situation better. Pla- Pretender’s secret identity is probably lost, but his power has a lot of potential. Biotinkers have made a lot of progress in cloning technology, for instance. I could reach out to my network. We might be able to salvage this.”

Armsmaster hadn’t suggested anything like that while they were waiting for Danny to arrive. Pretender felt a flash of hope but also a more overwhelming feeling of revulsion. What was that about?

Danny frowned, but nodded. “I hate to say it, but I agree. Taylor’s… She’s hurting. She’s vulnerable right now. I don’t know if she’d believe me if I told her, um, the truth. And there were parts that we agreed we weren’t going to tell her if we ever did.”

That Annette was a killer, mainly. Danny and Pretender hadn’t talked about telling Taylor about Pretender in years, maybe not even since coming back to Brockton Bay, but they’d never really found the best thing to tell her. She was biologically related to a villain, one who’d done despicable things, and not related to one of the people who raised her. Taylor loved Annette, even if the “Annette” she knew wasn’t even real.

No, they couldn’t tell her, not now at least. They had to let her hold onto the memory of her mother a little bit longer, even if they were going to have to shatter the illusion at some point.

“That- That means I can’t see her,” Pretender said, letting his gaze drop for a moment. He turned back to Danny. “That means I can’t go home either.”

Danny squeezed his hands a bit tighter. “It’s not forever. Like Armsmaster said, your powers have potential. We might be able to figure something out.”

The word “might” was doing a lot of heavy lifting there.

“You can walk Danny out and see her in the hallway,” Miss Militia suggested. “She doesn’t have to know who you are, but you can see her.”

It wouldn’t be the same. Not being able to hug her, to wipe her tears away, and tell her that everything was going to be okay. To actively lie to her to keep her in this world where her mother was dead. The thought made him feel even guiltier than he had about all the things Pretender had kept Danny in the dark about over the years, but the thought of Taylor leaving tonight without Pretender even having seen her as far, far worse.

He had to hang back. If he stepped out of the doorframe, Pretender knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself and stop himself from telling her everything. So, he just watched Danny collect Taylor, leaning down a bit to wipe the fresh tears off her face from her little talk with Assault, and leave the Protectorate Headquarters without Taylor even looking at him.

It was going to be a lot more of this, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

September - November 2008

“I’m worried about Dad,” I told Assault, even though I didn’t understand why he was talking to me or know what Dad and I were doing here at the PRT base. Still, he’d been nice so far, and he was a superhero, so the words just kind of came tumbling out.

He kind of reminded me of Mom’s friend Ethan. I absently wondered if Dad had told anyone but me and the Barnes yet.

“I think that’s pretty reasonable, all things considered,” Assault responded, nodding seriously. I still knew he didn’t know what I meant.

“I think he’s in shock,” I said, even though I wasn’t totally sure what being in shock meant. “He was crying with the rest of us at Emma’s house, and then he just kind of shut down and wouldn’t talk anymore.”

“Who’s Emma?”

“My best friend. I was at her house when Dad told me.” I didn’t know how to really explain who the Barnes were in a way that Assault would really understand. Did old people have best friends? Dad said a lot of people were his best friend, but that wasn’t how it worked. I didn’t think he had his own Emma.

I still tried explaining, though. How I felt a little better with the Barnes there, but how awful I felt at home when Dad wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t think he even noticed when I got up to microwave the leftovers that Mrs. Barnes sent us home with.

Dad came out of that room he’d gone into with Battery a little bit later, and a bunch of other Protectorate members came out with him. Almost all of them, actually. Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Dauntless, Battery, Velocity… and some bald guy in pajama pants hanging in the back. The only one who wasn’t there was Platinum. What was that about? If I wasn’t still feeling so raw about everything with Mom, I think I’d probably be freaking out a little bit about being right in front of all these heroes. What did any of this have to do with Mom?

I knew she worked for the PRT. That wasn’t really a secret, even though she wouldn’t tell me what she actually did. I’d always thought maybe she was something like a PRT dispatcher, or maybe something like HR, but this was all pretty suspicious. Had she been a field agent of some kind?

Assault and Battery walked us back to the van, and Assault changed his pace a bit so he could whisper with Dad. I worried a little bit that he was telling him what we talked about, but he smiled at me before we left, so I didn’t think he’d do that. 

Maybe he did, though, because Dad was a little better when we got back home.

It didn’t last that long, though.

I started going to the Barnes’ most nights for dinner. I didn’t really think about how that might affect Dad until Mrs. Barnes asked, “Has your father been eating, dear?”

Dad was… weird. I didn’t see him cry again, but he spent a lot of time on his own, and I caught him looking pretty upset a few times, so I knew he wasn’t doing okay. He went back to work before I went back to school, though, and he was on the phone a lot in the backyard. I tried to listen sometimes, but it was hard to hear through the window. He’d leave a lot, too, and he wouldn’t tell me where he was going.

I saw PRT vans by the house sometimes, so I thought maybe it was something with Mom’s work. But he seemed… Not happy, but sometimes he’d be smiling a little bit when he came back, which was just really, really weird.

He stopped cooking most nights when the PRT vans stopped coming by. That was when I decided to start going to the Barnes’ more. I didn’t really think about how Dad wasn’t eating either if he wasn’t feeding me.

Once Mrs. Barnes’ mentioned it, I was pretty sure Dad was looking a little skinnier. Guilt washed over me for not realizing sooner. I’d been so caught up thinking about how weird Dad was behaving that I’d kind of forgotten that he’d lost Mom too. Just because he wasn’t talking to me about it didn’t mean he wasn’t still grieving too.

“Can we go grocery shopping?” I asked once I’d figured out my plan. I’d found some videos online about how to learn to cook, and I was pretty sure I could handle the basics. “Mrs. Barnes gave me some recipes I want to try.”

That part was a lie, but Dad still agreed. He seemed to notice that I was putting more than just a few things for a recipe in the cart about halfway through our loop around the grocery store and had us double back to the front of the store to grab the household staples we’d been missing. Dad didn’t say anything, but I was pretty sure he’d had a moment of realization.

Dad and I cooked together most nights, though sometimes I’d have to badger him into the kitchen, or I would just start cooking myself when I’d call out to Dad and he wouldn’t respond. He’d started doing that more, just kind of zoning out and not doing anything, but he was still going to work, and he’d eat when I made dinner, so it was probably fine?

Then Emma asked if he was okay, said he wasn’t looking very good, and I had to start thinking about it again.

He hadn’t been like this when Mom first died. I thought he was doing okay, but I knew he wasn’t. He’d been getting worse, not better. He was trying to hide it too, that much was obvious, so I hadn’t really known until Emma said something.

I stayed up late enough thinking about it one night that I heard Dad get up and out of bed. I listened to the floorboards creak as he walked down to the hall and heard the faint click of him flicking the light switch. A faint light bled into my room from the crack under the door, and I waited for him to do his business and go back to bed.

I expected to hear water. I heard wretching instead.

It took me a bit to realize Dad was probably vomiting. Alarm course through my body, and I sat up in bed, but I didn’t get up. It was pretty gross, and I didn’t want to listen, but I couldn’t help it. I’d made dinner that night. Had I made Dad sick? Had I undercooked something? Had we gotten some bad ingredients? But I felt fine, and I was pretty sure Dad had a tougher stomach than I did.

I thought about saying something when I saw Dad in the morning, but he was getting ready for work, and I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. 

I didn’t say anything to Emma either at school that day, but the sounds of Dad throwing up haunted my mind for the rest of the day and well into the night, enough that I was awake when Dad made another trip to the bathroom and started vomiting all over again.

The next night, I tried making something lighter. I looked up what kind of foods were easier on the stomach, and I made a pretty simple meal.

I heard Dad throwing up for the third night in a row, and I knew I had to say something.

I kind of hated that it had to be me, though. I knew I was probably making a big deal out of nothing, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that those three nights were just what I’d heard, not all of it. Dad hadn’t said his stomach wasn’t feeling well or that something had been making him vomit, and I knew that it was probably kind of a private thing, but Dad didn’t tell me anything anymore, not since Mom died. We should’ve been talking more, not less.

Mom and Dad had been there my whole life. I didn’t think losing one would mean losing both.

I didn’t know how to say all that, though, so I just had to blurt it out. “I’ve been hearing you throwing up at night!”

Dad froze. He’d been in the middle of putting on his jacket before heading out to work, and he just kind of stopped. He didn’t say anything, which I was getting pretty tired of.

“Was it my cooking?” I asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. “I know I’m not very good yet, but-”

“No!” Dad said suddenly, cutting me off. He let his jacket hang limply off one shoulder as he took a step toward me. “No, kiddo, no. You’re cooking’s great. I really- I know I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, but you’ve been helping me a lot. I just haven’t been feeling well, that’s all.”

Not feeling well was an understatement. I hadn’t really bounced back from Mom’s death yet, but Dad really hadn’t, and this was just one part of it, assuming he was telling the truth. I didn’t really believe it. It wasn’t that I thought Dad would lie to me, but really? He just hasn’t been feeling well? That didn’t really explain the vomiting.

I didn’t hear Dad getting up anymore after that night, though. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

December 2008

Dad wasn’t throwing up anymore, not as far as I could tell, but I still heard noises around the house at night.

It took me awhile to realize there were rats.

Big, gross, black rats.

I told Dad about it once I was certain I’d seen one. He told me he’d buy some traps, and the rats disappeared for a bit, but I swore I could still hear them at night. I was pretty sure it was for at least a month, maybe two, but Dad said he didn’t hear anything, and I felt kind of bad badgering him about it, even though I knew this wasn’t just something we could ignore. I didn’t know anything about rodents, but it sounded like there were a lot of them, enough that I was worried the house would have to get fumigated. 

I didn’t see them since I told Dad about it, though. Not until the first day of winter break, when I walked out of my room and saw four big, fat ones sitting in the hallway.

I screamed when I saw them. I couldn’t help it. I was a girl, wasn’t I? I should be allowed to scream if I saw a rat, and I should especially be allowed to scream if I saw four rats. I jumped back, slamming my bedroom door between me and the creatures. A moment later, I creaked it open again ever so slightly, peering out. The rats were still just sitting there, unperturbed. What was wrong with them? Weren’t rats supposed to be skittish?

“Dad!” I called out, not really knowing what to do. Maybe he could come up the stairs and scare them off? Then I remembered what time it was and that it was a weekday. Just because I had a few weeks off didn’t mean Dad did. He was definitely at work already. I was alone here.

I opened and closed my door several times, trying and failing to work up the courage to step out of my room. The rats didn’t react even though they could surely hear my door squeaking. I threw a box of tissues at them, and they moved out of the way, but still were pretty unresponsive. They weren’t even really looking at me, I realized.

Ultimately, my need to go to the bathroom won out against my fear of the rats. I ran past them, ducking through the door right behind them. They were still there when I was done, and I felt a little better walking past them to go down the stairs, but I could still tell how worked up I was. I had to do something about the rats, as weird as they were. Maybe I could trap them under a big bowl and have Dad deal with them when he got home?

I saw the back of Dad’s head poking over the back of the couch before I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Dad?”

He didn’t respond. I took a few more steps, reaching the bottom of the stairs, and slowly tiptoed into the living room. There, I saw it. There was another one. A big, fat, hairy rat standing right there on the coffee table, staring up at Dad. And he was just staring right back at it.

“Dad?” I tried again, walking around to the side of the couch. From here, I could see that there were more rats on the couch, just kind of lounging around Dad. I wanted to back up, but Dad was just kind of sitting there, and that was scarier than the rats themselves. I reached out, pushing on his shoulder with my fingers. “Dad!”

He responded to that. He looked up, turning in my direction. The rats on the couch and the rat on the table turned their heads too, what felt like a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly locked on me. I let myself curl in on myself a bit. What the hell was happening?

“Taylor?” Dad sounded a little dazed. He didn’t look very good either, I realized. He was still in his pajamas, and they looked damp with sweat, almost like he was sick. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I’m… I’m on winter break,” I answered slowly. Dad knew that. Dad should know that. “Why aren’t you at work?”

Dad looked a little confused. He turned, looking at the rat on the coffee table, the rats’ heads turning with him, and then he seemed to jolt. His eyes widened, his head snapping back toward me. The rat on the coffee table remained still, but the ones on the couch scattered. I yelped and hopped back to keep any of them from touching my bare feet.

“Fuck,” Dad swore softly, rubbing his temple with the heel of both his hands. “Fuck.”

Dad wasn’t yelling, but I was pretty sure this wouldn’t be scarier if he were. I didn’t think I’d ever heard Dad swear before, except when he was with his dock buddies, and he didn’t think I was around.

“Fuck, I didn’t want…,” Dad said softly, more to himself than to me. He lowered his hands and leaned back a bit. “Taylor, close your eyes. Don’t look at them.”

Don’t look at what? The rats? How was I not supposed to look at them? They were all over the place! Well, not literally, but it felt like it. 

Dad got up, somehow both quickly and slowly at the same time. He ambled around a bit, and I wasn’t sure what he was doing, until he found the coat rack and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Dad walked off into the kitchen to talk to whoever he was calling, but the kitchen wasn’t that far from the living room, and he wasn’t really lowering his voice, so I could hear everything he was saying.

“Tommy? Tommy, I need help,” Dad said, voice taking a creaking quality that I’d never really heard before. It kind of sounded like he was groaning? “I think… I triggered. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Taylor’s here, and I need help…”

I didn’t really understand what Dad was saying, even if I could hear the words. Who in the world was Tommy? Dad didn’t have any friends named Tommy. Did he get a therapist without telling me? It was the best thing I could think of. Maybe “triggered” was some kind of therapy word. It sounded like it.

There was a stretch of silence, and I could hear sound coming from Dad’s cell phone, but I couldn’t begin to make out what the other person was saying. Dad made some sounds of acknowledgement, and that was about it.

Dad stepped back into the living room after a minute or so. I hadn’t moved, too scared of touching a rat, even if I couldn’t actually see any right now. Except that one standing on the coffee table, but it wasn’t moving, so neither was I.

Dad held up the phone. “He wants to talk to you. I’m going to…”

Dad kind of trailed off and sat back on the couch. The rat turned its head, and they went back to staring at each other. I took the phone and put it up to my ear. “Hello?”

The person on the other end said his name was Tommy Creel. He said he was friends with Dad in college, but I’d never heard of him before. He told me that he was going to come pick Dad up to get some help, and that he was going to call the Barnes to see if it was okay for me to stay with them for a bit, so I should start packing my stuff.

That was alarming. It made sense, considering the state that Dad was in right now, that he needed help and that probably meant going somewhere, but having to go to the Barnes’ house made it feel more real in a different way than the rats did. I couldn’t really protest, though, so I told Mr. Creel I would start packing and open the door when he got here.

I wasn’t expecting to open the door and see that bald guy from the PRT building.

I recognized him, even if I couldn’t pinpoint where exactly I knew him at first. He’d been there the day Mom died, when Dad had gotten a call from the PRT and I’d talked to Assault. Mr. Creel had kind of hung back behind the rest of them, so I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him, but I’d seen him.

“Hi, Taylor,” Mr. Creel greeted with a smile that was kind of warm but felt more forced. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s just kind of been sitting there,” I told him, stepping back to let him inside. I led him to the living room, feeling a little more on edge than I had just a minute ago. “I found some rats upstairs when I woke up, then when I came down, Dad was just here sitting with them. He’s supposed to be at work.”

Mr. Creel made a noise, and I realized it was because he was looking at Dad. He walked right up to him, reaching out to softly prod at his arm. “Danny? Danny?”

Dad reacted much like he had with me. A little disoriented, he turned and looked up at Mr. Creel. “Tommy?”

“Uh-huh. I’m here. Come on, let’s get you up.” Mr. Creel got an arm under Dad’s and sort of started helping him to his feet. “We’re going to get someone to take a look at you, alright?”

“Taylor…” Dad protested softly, and despite it all, it did make me feel something nice to know I was somewhere on Dad’s mind. I hated to think it, but it really hadn’t felt like Dad was thinking about me much lately.

“She’s okay. A little spooked, I think, but she’s okay,” Mr. Creel answered, and I didn’t really like that he’d said that. A little spooked? He was probably right, but he was a stranger. He didn’t know me. He shouldn’t be saying stuff like that. “We’re going to take her to the Barnes’ house, okay? Zoe and Alan will take care of her, and we can focus on you.”

He knew Emma’s parents? Had I met him before and just forgotten? Mr. Creel had said he was friends with Dad in college, so maybe I’d met him as a baby or something and just couldn’t remember.

Mr. Creel started guiding Dad to a car outside, and I grabbed my backpack and the tote bag I’d filled with some of Dad’s stuff. Mr. Creel hadn’t asked me to, and he seemed kind of surprised when I asked him where to put it, but he thanked me, and I felt a little better about everything. Not much, but a little. It felt like I was doing something.

Mr. Creel got out of the car when he dropped me off at the Barnes’ house and talked with Mr. Barnes in a hushed voice as Mrs. Barnes ushered me inside, clearly trying to get me out of earshot of Mr. Creel and Mr. Barnes’s conversation. They were talking about Dad, clearly, and Mrs. Barnes probably thought she was protecting me or something, as if I didn’t deserve to know what was going on with Dad, too.

Emma was waiting for me in her living room, looking a little wide-eyed. “What’s happening? Mom just said you were going to come stay with us for the rest of winter break.”

The rest of winter break? That was news to me. I thought maybe it’d be a couple of days, a week at most. I hadn’t packed nearly enough clothes for that. I tried to take it in stride, though, and sat next to Emma on the couch. I wondered if I should tell her about the rats, but I didn’t even know where to start with that, so I didn’t. “I think Dad’s just kind of having a hard time right now, so Mr. Creel’s going to get him some help.”

They kept saying that word. I need help, we’re going to get you some help, that kind of thing. What did that even mean? Were they taking Dad to a doctor? Was he sick? I didn’t think so, but Dad really wasn’t looking too good. It was kind of hard to tell, considering I lived with him and saw him every day, but there were just these moments sometimes where I became aware he didn’t look like he used to.

I thought maybe it was a mental thing. For Dad, not me. I mean, he lost his wife less than three months ago. It was hard on me, obviously, but he had this whole life with her before I was even born. It was hard for me to imagine since Dad wasn’t really telling me anything, but I still knew logically that he was missing her, and it was bad enough to be affecting his health like this.

That didn’t explain the rats, though. Nothing explained the rats.

Or, nothing explained the rats the way I needed the rats to be explained. The rats ended up in the paper the next day.

Emma had shaken whatever worry had overtaken her the day before, and she was excited about having me over for the break. I was trying to match her energy, even though it was hard. We talked a little bit about what we could do that day, when Mr. Barnes interjected from where he was reading the morning paper at the breakfast table.

“If you two want to go anywhere, ask me or your mom to drive you,” Mr. Barnes instructed without looking up from the paper. He was reading it that way that I saw old men at the park doing it, the whole thing unfolded, so he had to hold it with two hands. Dad was a little older than Mr. Barnes, or at least I was pretty sure, but he read it all folded up, so I knew that it was possible, and Mr. Barnes didn’t have to embarrass himself holding it like that.

“How come?” Emma asked, even though she didn’t really seem all that upset about it. Getting driven was better than walking anyway, especially in the winter.

“The PRT put out this warning about these swarms of rats attacking people around the docks,” Mr. Barnes told us, and I tried not to visibly react too much. It was too much of a coincidence not to be related to what was going on with Dad.

I really tried to keep my interest looking casual, but Mrs. Barnes was exactly the kind of grown-up who’d notice a kid looking at something once and remember it forever. Apparently, reading the paper after Mr. Barnes was done three days in a row was too much. Thankfully, it worked out in my favor.

“I’m sure there’s more you could read online if you were interested, Taylor,” Mrs. Barnes said when she saw me casually trying to take Mr. Barnes’ abandoned paper from the table as he left to get ready for work. “Why don’t you and Emma spend some time on the computers today?”

I was a little relieved at the suggestion. I knew the Barnes had more than one computer, two skinny ones and an old boxy one, but it still felt awkward to ask to use it, even if I was over here like all the time, even before Dad had to leave. I didn’t spend a ton of time on the computer at home, but I still probably used it almost every day. I was noticing its absence.

Emma seemed happy enough to spend a couple hours on the computer, it being too cold to go outside and all, and immediately pulled up some flash game about dressing up models or something. I was a little tempted to join, but Dad was more important. I needed to know what was going on with these rats.

Surprisingly, Parahumans Online was a lot more helpful than any major newspaper’s website.

Chapter Text

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.

You are currently viewing threads as a guest.

. . .

+Topic: New rat villain?

In: Boards > Places > America > Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on December 14, 2008:

Istg I had nothing to do with this. I’ve had this username for years. Come on, you guys know me… It’s your pal Bagrat. The guy in the know? Look at my badges! I swear, my sources would never let me live if I turned evil.

Jokes aside, Brockton Bay’s got a new villain, it looks like! 

You guys have probably already seen the video @biscotti posted of these big ass black rats running through the streets, but in case you haven’t, here's the link so you know what I’m talking about. And you should actually go watch it, while BB does have its fair share of rats, these bad boys are NOT normal BB rats.

If you don’t believe me, check out these wicked photos of these humanoid rat swarms. Do I smell a Master, or do I smell a Breaker? I’m betting on Master, because these weird rat ladies are all over the docks.

Protectorate and Wards were on the scene pretty fast. You think the Wards are happy or mad about having to fight a new villain during winter break? It’s literally the first day off from school in BB. 

ANYWAY, it’s broad daylight, so the fight was super well documented. Protectorate and Ward members fought these rat ladies all over the docks. Pairs if you want to search for photos/videos because I’m not about to link them all: Armsmaster and Clockblocker, Miss Militia and Gallant, Velocity and Triumph, Dauntless and Aegis, and Vista with Assault and Battery.

It went… fine. As far as I know, no capes have been hurt so far, but the rats are still out there. The PRT put out an advisory telling people to stay away from the docks. We’ll see if the heroes come back for a round 2 soon I guess.

+Char

Replied on December 14, 2008:

>Do I smell a Master, or do I smell a Breaker?

You smell rat shit, my friend. RIP the docks

+XxVoid CowboyxX

Replied on December 14, 2008:

>these weird rat ladies are all over the docks

Lung’s ex maybe?

+meowmeowmeow

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Okay, a rat villain is kind of cool, but thematically, not very Brockton Bay. Let’s all hold hands and pray she/they/it steals enough from the ABB to move to NY where she/they/it will be appreciated :)

+Char

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@meowmemowmeow I hate to make two poop jokes on this thread but… she/they/it → they/she/it = they shit. Which they do

+White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

New Wave’s out there too! @justice4lightstar posted some pics of Manpower fighting one of the rat ladies

+tboyswag

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Rat LADIES? Are you assuming their genders??? (/j)

Fr tho, it is kina weird rat swarms are giving themselves tits

+blandboy 

Replied on December 14, 2008:

*counts on fingers* 6 Protectorate and 5 Wards? Where’s Platinum??? My beautiful crystal queen :’(

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@blandboy We haven’t seen Platinum since like September. The PRT hasn’t said anything and my sources aren’t spilling :(

But now that you mention it, don’t the rat swarms kind of look like Platinum? I swear I’m not going to become a conspiracy theorist, but I can’t be the only ones who see it???

+blandboy 

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@bagrat PRATinum (I’m sorry Platinum if you’re seeing this)

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@blandboy We are NAWT calling them that!!! Starting a new thread now. Edit: Link to the naming thread.

. . .

+Topic: Rat lady names. Go

In: Boards > Places > America > Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on December 14, 2008:

Link to the thread that started this convo

Quick summary: There’s this new rat villain in Brockton Bay who doesn’t have a name yet. Everyone stay calm. We might be early enough to get a name to stick! THAT MEANS NO BAD SUGGESTIONS. I will personally ask @Alathea and @Judge to permaban any bad suggestions.

+Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

I will not abuse my mod powers. But you might get a tempban because seriously guys, we cannot blow this. The BB PHO forum has never successfully named a cape, and if we can’t name a swarm of rats, I don’t think we ever will.

+blandboy 

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Okay, but Pratinum is still kind of clever, isn’t it?

+XxVoid CowboyxX

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@blandboy No, it isn’t. And stop being so horny about her. You know she’s a tranny, right?

+blandboy 

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@XxVoid CowboyxX 1) I’m not being horny, I’m literally just a fan. 2) She is not trans. She was a drag queen in Vegas for a bit, and they’d literally introduce her as a bioqueen. She’s a cis woman (not that there’s anything wrong with being trans!)

+tboyswag

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Hey @Alathea, while you’re here, kick @XxVoid CowboyxX out, will you?

+Alathea

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@tboyswag SIGH. okay

You know you can’t be doing this voidcowboy

Get back on topic guys. The best I’ve got is Labrat, and there is literally already a guy called that. I cannot be doing the heavy lifting here.

+shifty

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Vermin? Rat Queen? Rattack… Rat Attack? This is surprisingly hard

+eelectric

Replied on December 14, 2008:

bagrat

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@eelectric No <3

+tboyswag

Replied on December 14, 2008:

Eraticate? Eraticater? (TOTALLY not stolen from the Pokemon…)

+Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@tboyswag I feel like that makes it sound like they’re the ones stopping the rats.

+themennis

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@shifty Vermillion? Because they’re vermin and they’re a million of them?

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@themennis Lowkey kinda good. We haven’t seen the cape’s costume yet (Assuming she has one. She might not if she’s a Breaker), so like might not vibe with the color scheme but I kind of like the idea of calling the rat ladies we’ve been seeing Vermillions. Or the Vermillion Ladies?

+Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@themennis @Bagrat Honestly, I think that’s the best we’re going to get… Let’s hope someone from the PRT or the Protectorate sees this.

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

I would start spamming verified capes if I didn’t know better.

+blandboy 

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@Bagrat Thank god voidcowboy isn’t here anymore

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 14, 2008:

@blandboy SHOTS FIRED

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

Holy shit, Clockblocker called the rat ladies Vermillions in an interview. Christmas came early!

+themennis

Replied on December 20, 2008:

We’ve been p e r c e i v e d

. . .

+Topic: Out of town capes spotted!

In: Boards > Places > America > Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted on December 16, 2008:

Update on the rat villain aka the Vermillion Lady (we’re trying really hard here guys) situation!

If you missed yesterday’s post, basically we were just trying to post citings of the Protectorate and Wards members. New Wave was seen with them, so it looks like there’s a more coordinated effort, but nothing really exciting happened.

Until TODAY.

Satyrical, Floret, Prism, AND Ursa Aurora were seen in Brockton Bay! That’s FOUR out-of-town Protectorate members from TWO DIFFERENT cities! PHO is eating good today!

+White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 16, 2008:

I love seeing out of town capes as much as the next PHOhead, but four extra capes is not a good sign, right? Brockton Bay’s team isn’t as big as, say, New York, but it’s still pretty decent, and we’ve got all of New Wave. It’s maybe C-Level threat reinforcement, but it’s still kind of a lot for just one villain, right?

+GstringGirl

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@WhiteFairy I remember reading that the heroes take Master threats more seriously? I’m not sure if I’m remembering that right

+White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@GstringGirl No, you’re right! It’s still kind of surprising that they’ve been fighting rat lady for this long. Tricky Case 53 maybe?

+GstringGirl

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@WhiteFairy I wouldn’t know!

+GreenPiggie

Replied on December 16, 2008:

Sorry, who are Satyrical and Floret? I barely know who Prism and Ursa Aurora are. I swear I’m a real cape fan, but there are so many teams to keep track of D:

Satyrical is a really cool name btw

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@GreenPiggie You’re still a real cape fan even if you don’t know cape names! That’s my bad for just assuming people know who people are. Satyrical and Floret are from the Las Vegas Protectorate! Las Vegas isn’t as public with information about their capes, but as far as I know, Satyr’s got some kind of duplication power and Floret is a Blaster

+blandboy

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@GreenPiggie @Bagrat Not for all my replies on Bagrat threads to be about Platinum x_x but Platinum used to be teammates with them! Platinum and Satyr were really well known for doing drag shows together back in the day. Floret did circus shows, and I always thought she and Platinum should have done a show together. Aesthetically, their powers are kind of similar with the crystals

+Char

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@blandboy @Batrat I know the amount of comments about the Vermillions looking like Platinum on other threads is getting annoying af but… Isn’t it kind of weird that two members of Platinum’s old team are here when she isn’t?

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@Char OH SHIT. I GOTTA MAKE SOME CALLS

+White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 16, 2008:

@Bagrat Update???

+White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 17, 2008:

@Bagrat You good? A ton of your threads are super active rn but you’ve been silent. The PRT didn’t take you out, did they?

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 17, 2008:

@WhiteFairy Honestly, idek. My sources are being really squirrely for some reason. I don’t really have anything concrete, and I’m just getting kind of a weird vibe. I think you might be onto something @Char

. . .

+Topic: How are we feeling about the whole rat situation?

In: Boards > Places > America > Brockton Bay

Judge (Original Poster) (Moderator)

Posted on December 18, 2008:

Hi everyone, it’s day 5 (?) of the rat plague. How is everyone holding up?

This is a venting thread! Type /noreply at the end of your message if you don’t want people responding to your comments or DMing you. Even if it’s not that serious, sometimes we just gotta complain, you know?

+blandboy

Replied on December 18, 2008:

I did not know my grandma had such an active social life. She doesn’t really believe there’s rat swarms out there and she’s real mad about having to stay in the house. We have been playing mahjong for days and she’s the only one in this family who can read any of the tiles and I’m about to lose it /noreply

+XxVoid CowboyxX

Replied on December 18, 2008:

Honestly im chillin. No school, wasnt planning on going outside anyway

+BaseballSnoopy

Replied on December 18, 2008:

I wish I could afford to stay inside, but I still gotta work. My boss won’t even let me have Christmas off, so having supervillain rats running around isn’t going to do it for him.

It is really interesting being outside tho. There aren’t a lot of people out because it’s, you know, winter but like the cold vibes plus even less people? It’s pretty creepy. I wish people would talk on the bus or something because I’m scared as shit whenever I go out

+GreenPiggie

Replied on December 18, 2008:

@BaseballSnoopy idk where you are where there aren’t people outside. It’s pretty much the same as normal where I am.

Super curious about other bus goers in BB though. Yesterday I got on the bus and these rats were just casually sitting in the handicap seat??? Like hello??? You’re a rat, why are you on the bus, let alone in the handicap seat

+themennis

Replied on December 18, 2008:

@GreenPiggie The Vermillions are riding the bus???

+GreenPiggie

Replied on December 18, 2008:

@themennis Vermillion is what we’re calling the rat ladies, right? But no, it was just the rats, not any of those swarms.

+M4M4Bear

Replied on December 18, 2008:

Some of my mom friends have still been taking their kids out. Could not be me! Not going to risk it, no sir. I know that the rats aren’t literally everywhere but they’re still attacking people and it’s better safe than sorry!

It’s still hard this is happening during winter break. My kids are home and they don’t understand why they can’t play in the yard or why we can’t go places like the park or the library like we normally do /noreply

+SixLegged

Replied on December 18, 2008:

Embarrassed as shit that my girlfriend sent me this thread but I really gotta vent

THE RATS FUCKING CAME INTO MY HOUSE AND BIT THE SHIT OUT OF ME TOES

I’m a renter with three roommates. One of them did not even notice and played video games the whole time me and my other roommate tried getting them out. She had a broom at least but I was just kicking them in my slippers. SO GROSS

And my fourth roommate has the audacity to be acting like she’s the victim here even though she literally did not do anything.

And if anyone’s curious, they are not still there. They chewed in through the window screen on one side of the house and chewed out through the window screen on the other side of the house. Why the fuck is that the way you’re traveling? It would be so much easier to just go around. Bye bye security deposit.

/noreply because I know one of you fuckers is going to say some shit like “let them in, if you’re cold, they’re cold”

+Judge (Original Poster) (Moderator)

Replied on December 19, 2008:

Is no one going to ask how I am? /hj

. . .

+Topic: Big showdown by the PRT base!

In: Boards > Places > America > Brockton Bay

White Fairy (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on December 20, 2008:

Holy shit guys. We might have another chance to name a cape! Probably not because these ones aren’t swarms of rats, but we can hope.

I’ve been a cape fan since before Brockton Bay even had a Protectorate branch and somehow the only cape battle I’ve ever seen was Shadow Stalker beating up some E88 thugs (no hate on Shadow Stalker, thanks for doing that girlie). All my hoping and praying paid off though because I had a great view of the whole battle from my apartment window!

The video is shit but here it is.

Attachment: 1 file

+White Fairy (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

Replying to my own post immediately because I need to get this out of my system.

New capes! But first, we saw Platinum! She’s not dead! Maybe she was doing some kind of recruitment thing because she was with these two other capes like the whole time. You can’t see them super well in the video, but it looks like one’s in purple and one’s in green? If someone has better pictures, please share.

Do not know what the purple guy’s powers are. I think maybe teleportation or some kind of Stranger power because he just kind of disappeared at some point. The green guy I think is some kind of Master though. As far as I can tell, the Protectorate, Wards, and New Wave were all kind of herding the Vermillion Ladies to him. 

I don’t really know how to explain what he did to them. It might’ve not even been him. The Vermillions just kind of fell apart when they got close to him. A bunch of rats ran off and a bunch of them just kind of followed him and the rest of the Protectorate when he left. Just watch the video.

+VigilStorm

Replied on December 20, 2008:

FINALLY. It’s been like a week. Idk if we’ve ever had a cape battle last this long

+blandboy

Replied on December 20, 2008:

PLATINUM MY QUEEN YOU’VE RETURNED

+Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

Oh shit. I was not expecting another naming oppurtunity so soon. I feel like we wasted all our good rat names coming up with Vermillion. Pied Piper is the obvious answer for the new rat (?) cape. I’m pretty sure that guy is public domain but the Protectorate usually doesn’t go for names like that

+idkwhattoputhere

Replied on December 20, 2008:

I don’t want to seem like a hater, but isn’t it really suspicious that there’s a cape who can control rats like right after a rat swarm villain shows up?

+White Fairy (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

@idkwhattoputhere Honestly? Yeah. I didn’t even think of that.

I kind of assumed Pied Piper (or whatever we decide to call him) was a cape from out of town since they called in people from New York and Las Vegas. It would explain why they took so long to deal with Vermillion too. I can’t find anything on PHO about anyone who has powers like that though so you’re right. it is pretty suspicious.

+meowmeowmeow

Replied on December 20, 2008:

Okay but can we talk about how awesome a big team up like this is? I mean, all of the Protectorate, the Wards, and New Wave, plus the out of town capes AND two new ones? That’s gotta be at least fifteen capes (I refuse to count, someone else do it)

+Alathea (Moderator)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

@meowmeowmeow 23 if I’m counting right. That is a LOT of capes for one person.

Let’s hope Ratcatcher (eh? eh? What do we think?) is somehow linked to Vermillion because if he’s powerful enough to give that many capes trouble, we want him (her? them?) on our side!

+GstringGirl

Replied on December 20, 2008:

@Alathea Ratcatcher is really good! Pied Piper feels kind of specific to what we saw in White Fairy’s video. Ratcatcher still references it (which I think it should. Super cool video!) but I think it leaves a little more room for him to show off his powers

+shifty

Replied on December 20, 2008:

@Alathea @GstringGirl I think Ratcatcher’s the best one. I had a list going of what I was going to post but the best ones I have are Pack Rat, Ratatat, and Roof Rat (wtf even is that?). I was kind of leaning toward Rat Trap, but Ratcatcher sounds a little less villainous. Assuming this guy is Protectorate and all. @bagrat any insight?

+Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied on December 20, 2008:

@shifty Uhh my sources say that the Protectorate is going to have a big press thing in like two weeks? Normally they just make like one post saying a villain was caught or whatever. So maybe new heroes? Get your predictions in, folks! This is going to be big.

Chapter Text

December 2008

I tried not to spend the whole week on PHO, but it was really hard.

Emma was… fine. No, she was great. She was my best friend! But she didn’t get it. She was worried about Dad, but she didn’t know what was happening, and I knew she was pretty content with letting it stay that way. Which wasn’t her fault. It just made it hard to just hang out like we used to, even if I knew she was trying to distract me for my sake.

But it felt like the people on PHO understood. I didn’t know them, and I didn’t have an account or anything, but when I was online, it felt like I was doing something, like I was talking to people who cared about the right things and thought in the right ways to figure it out.

I really wanted to make an account and post about Dad, but I didn’t. As magical as this all felt, I knew this was still the real world. I’d either be kicked off the forum for making things up, or risk putting Dad in danger if someone who could actually do something saw. I didn’t really know how exactly, but this felt like something I should keep to myself.

I still read the forum pages religiously, particularly the conspiracy theories. It was kind of embarrassing, but it wasn’t like anyone knew I was doing that, and those were the posts that made the most sense.

Particularly, the posts about how the rat swarms looked like Platinum. Because that wasn’t what I saw when I looked at them.

“Emma?” I called out, distracting her from her game. I was pretty sure she was tired of spending so much time at the computer, but she always joined me in the computer room when I went to check PHO, which was pretty nice of her. She looked up with a curious, almost bored look on her face. “Does this rat swarm look like my mom to you?”

“Taylor!” Emma protested, sounding utterly offended, but she still leaned over to look at the picture. She chewed on her lip in thought, and I knew she was considering it. “Now that you mention it…”

It was a little ridiculous to think a writhing mass of rats could look like anyone. Even saying they looked like a man or a woman was a little silly. But dozens of people on PHO thought they reassembled Platinum, so why not Mom?

Wait…

I hadn’t packed a lot when Mr. Creel brought me to the Barnes’ house, but Mrs. Barnes drove me back a couple of times to get more clothes and stuff. I grabbed a notebook, the most inconspicuous one I could find, during one visit and tried mapping out a conspiracy theory of my own.

Mom died around the same time Platinum stopped appearing in public. Mom worked for the PRT my whole life, but I didn’t actually know what she did. There were weird rats in the house, and Dad wasn’t doing so well, and there was some kind of connection there. The rats were making Dad sick? And there was some kind of parahuman connection, maybe some kind of Master involved? But how did that connect to Mom? 

Was… Was Mom Platinum?

I wrote the idea down, then crossed it out about a million times. It sounded ridiculous, but it would explain some things. Not everything, but a few things.

The day after I had the thought, Platinum showed up for some big cape fight, which meant she definitely wasn’t my mom. It was a bit of a relief, even if it meant I had been agonizing over a conspiracy theory for no reason.

At least Platinum’s return was a cape thing mainstream enough for the Barnes to talk about.

“I’m glad she’s okay,” Mrs. Barnes said when Mr. Barnes read an excerpt from the paper aloud the next morning. The headline had been about the rats being gone, which was the main thing that affected us, but the section on Platinum wasn’t small either. “She’s probably my favorite superhero.”

“Really?” I asked, a little surprised. I’d read a lot about her when I thought she might’ve been my mom. She was… interesting. Her powers were sorta neat, but she was barely a Breaker, and I wasn’t all that interested in Brute powers. Powers like Clockblocker’s or Vista’s got some good discussions going on PHO. Platinum was almost never a part of those threads.

She was one of the founding members of the Brockton Bay Protectorate, though, and she was one of the early members of the Las Vegas Protectorate. Apparently, they did stuff a little differently over there? That one guy on PHO said she’d been a drag queen, which didn’t really make sense to me because weren’t drag queens supposed to be men?

Regardless, she didn’t seem like the type of cape Mrs. Barnes would go after, but she didn’t seem to notice, nodding along to my question easily. “Mhm. I saw her once when she and Miss Militia did some work with a women’s organization awhile back. They were both a little intense, but they had some interesting things to say. Platinum talked a bit about balancing her career and her family. It was part of what inspired me to go back to work!”

Huh. I didn’t know a lot about what Mrs. Barnes did, some kind of office job, but I didn’t think that was super comparable to being a superhero. I was pretty sure she wasn’t full-time either, because she was always taking care of Emma and the house. Still, good for her?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. We were talking about capes, and that was enough for me. The Barnes’ theories on why Platinum had been missing these past few months and where the rats came from were kind of uncreative compared to the ones that I saw on PHO, but it was still a way to get some of my thoughts out of my system.

The capetalk died pretty quickly, though, or at least it stopped being fun. On the 23rd, just two days before Christmas, the Simurgh attacked Wisconsin.

Wisconsin wasn’t actually that close to us, but it was the closest Endbringer attack to Brockton Bay I’d ever heard of. We weren’t actually in any danger, but it was a little more rattling. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes already had the day off with it being so close to Christmas. Their other daughter Anne was supposed to fly home today, which was already cutting it pretty close, but planes were going to be grounded for a bit, so Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were figuring that out with her.

Emma, meanwhile, was shutting herself into her room, which wasn’t really something new she was doing, but I was having a little bit of a hard time feeling sympathetic, considering we were all kind of in the same boat.

At least it meant I didn’t have to feel bad about spending time on PHO, but that got tiresome after awhile, and I felt awkward just hanging out with Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. I wasn’t really used to feeling awkward around them, but, as much as Emma and I said we were practically sisters, I was realizing I’d never really been part of a lot of private moments with her family. We were all feeling pretty vulnerable lately, now more than ever, and we weren’t really equipped to help each other.

Mr. Barnes ended up giving me his phone. “Why don’t you text your Dad and see if he’s up for a call?”

I jumped at the opportunity. I hadn’t even really considered that calling Dad might be an option.

I was sitting on the floor of the computer room with Dad on the phone within ten minutes. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, kiddo,” his voice came back, warm and familiar. I listened closely, trying to pick up whatever I could from it. Did he sound tired? Sick? Was he doing better? “How are you holding up?”

“I should be asking you that,” I answered, and Dad went quiet for a moment. “Dad?”

“Sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” Dad said, but he started talking again before I could protest. “I know I shouldn’t hide things from you, but it’s hard to actually put that in practice when I’m trying to protect you, too. I’m working on it.”

“Are you talking to a therapist?” I asked because that didn’t really sound like the sort of thing Dad said.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice going a little stiff, but it was still pretty clear. He didn’t sound weak like he had when I’d last seen him. Maybe not a hundred percent himself, but he was sounding a lot better. “It’s- well, they’re working on treatment for the physical part, but I probably should’ve talked to someone about the mental part a long time ago.”

That was probably the closest Dad was going to get to acknowledging what happened. Now I just had to pick which path I wanted to chase him down: mental or physical.

I chose mental. “Have you been keeping up on everything?” 

“The rats?”

“I meant the Simurgh. I thought maybe you were avoiding the news.” Did that make sense? I’d heard about people avoiding the news because it stressed them out. Dad wasn’t exactly delicate, but stress probably wouldn’t help him right now. “I want to talk about the rats if you’re up for it, though.”

“The Simurgh battle ended about an hour ago,” Dad told me, and I didn’t miss that he avoided the question about the rats. Then my brain caught up with what Dad just said.

“Wait, it did?” That’s what I got for getting off the computer.

Dad made a noise of confirmation. “It was a longer battle, for the Simurgh at least.”

“I forgot you usually keep up on those,” I confessed. Dad would probably do numbers on PHO… Wait, I had to stay focused. Try to get info about the rats, about what was going on with him. Cape stuff. “Did Mom work with the Protectorate a lot?”

“I think so. You know she couldn’t talk about work a lot,” Dad told me, sounding a little apologetic. “I was a little more involved in cape stuff when we lived in Vegas.”

What? “You lived in Vegas?”

“You were born there, Taylor,” Dad said, voice light and amused, which was nice to hear, but I was a lot more focused on the whole Vegas thing. “You know that.”

“Um, no.” There was always something about whether anyone was born out of state on those icebreaker bingo cards they did every year at summer camp. I never had anything interesting for them. Being born in Vegas would have made me sound so interesting! “Why were you and Mom in Vegas?”

“Your mom had a contract to start working for the PRT when we finished college,” Dad told me, and I wanted to ask why, but he wasn’t done talking. “There wasn’t a Protectorate team in Brockton Bay yet, so we thought we were going to end up in Boston, but the Vegas team got set up just a couple months before we graduated, so we got sent there. Did you really not know any of this?”

“No.” I was pretty sure I would remember if Mom or Dad ever told me anything about that. I was a little miffed they hadn’t, but it was probably a good thing that I didn’t know. It probably just would’ve fed my conspiracy theory that Mom was Platinum. “You said you knew the capes there?”

“Just a little bit. Satyrical and, um, Platinum were part of the union, so I got to work with them a bit,” Dad explained, and I tried to picture Dad living in Las Vegas. “The Wards at the time babysat you a few times. Um, Leonid and Spur, I think.”

I wanted to ask what kind of union Dad worked for because I was pretty sure there weren’t any docks in Arizona, but the whiplash of his next line threw me for a bit. “You had Wards babysit me?”

“Uh-huh. I’m pretty sure, at least. You know, secret identities. Your mom said she knew them from work, and I really doubt the PRT was hiring any teenagers who weren’t Wards.”

Huh. That would be a good story if I had a PHO account. “But you knew them? Platinum and Satyrical?”

“Yes…?”

I could hear something in Dad’s tone that told him he knew what I was going to say. I still had to say it, though. “Do you think you could ask them about the rats?”

“Taylor…”

“You haven’t told me anything,” I pleaded. “I just saw rats in the house, and then you were saying you weren’t doing well.”

Dad was silent long enough that I thought he might’ve hung up.

“Dad?”

“I thought I was imagining the rats,” Dad responded finally, “until I realized you were looking at them. I saw on the news that the Protectorate was fighting these rat swarms? They were just running all over the docks.”

It was an answer, but not the one I was looking for. I remembered how that rat’s head turned when Dad’s did. That was something more than just a few rats getting into the house. “I know you’re not telling me something.”

“There’s a lot I’m not telling you,” Dad told me, and it didn’t sound like an admission. “I don’t want you worrying about me, Taylor, but I know I can’t stop you.”

“Then tell me what’s going on with you,” I begged, hating the way my voice sounded. It wasn’t that hard. Why wouldn’t Dad just tell me? If it was depression, or an eating disorder, or even something worse like cancer, knowing anything would be better than knowing nothing.

“I’m doing better,” Dad told me, which, again, wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it was still a welcome one. “They got me trying some different stuff here, and I can really tell it's helping. There’s been talk of letting me come visit on Christmas.”

I felt my heart flip. With everything that was going on, I’d forgotten Christmas was in two days. Now that I remembered, I knew I wasn’t able to forget. “It’s our first one without Mom.”

“Yeah,” Dad responded a little softly. “I know the Barnes will treat you well, but I still want to see you.”

“I want to see you too.”

“Could you give the phone back to Mr. Barnes?” Dad asked, and I suddenly became aware of my body, of how I was curled up sitting on the floor of an empty room. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes were probably just sitting out there in the living room waiting for me to be done. “I want to talk to him about a couple things.”

I agreed easily and didn’t even try to eavesdrop because now I had other things to focus on. Dad was coming back for Christmas!

“Your dad’s going to come after breakfast,” Mrs. Barnes told us when Emma, Anne, and I arrived downstairs bright and early. Mrs. Barnes was already hard at work in the kitchen. “He says the doctors are having him try this special diet, so he can’t be eating what we’re having. I think he’s a little sensitive, so try not to mention it when he’s around.”

“Do we know anything about what’s happening with Mr. Hebert?” Anne asked. She’d arrived last night, and I didn’t know the details of it, but I imagined it cost a small fortune to reschedule her flight. Mr. Barnes made good money, though, as far as I knew, so I guess it wasn’t really a problem for them.

“He never really bounced back from Annette’s passing. I’m thinking it’s some kind of chronic disease that got aggravated when he started shutting down,” Mr. Barnes said, and Mrs. Barnes shot him a pointed look, then angled her head at me. Mr. Barnes gave me a sheepish smile and apologized. “Sorry, Taylor. I know he’s your old man, and you probably don’t want to be hearing those sorts of things.”

I just shrugged. I didn’t know anything, but pretending it wasn’t real was worse than speculating.

Breakfast was good, Mrs. Barnes spoiling us kids with cinnamon rolls. There was some protein too, but she didn’t scold Emma or Anne when they just went for more sweets. I ate my eggs, though, not wanting to upset my stomach when Dad was going to show up any minute now.

Dad was all bundled up when he arrived, so I couldn’t really tell how he was doing, but he was smiling, and that was enough for me. He had the small, wire shopping cart that he and Mom used to bring to the farmer’s market with him, filled with presents, but I was more caught up in the sight of the cart than the presents themselves. Dad was always on the skinny side, but he was pretty strong. Normally, he’d have no problem carrying all that.

We all chatted a bit, the Barnes kids telling Dad what they’d been up to, and Mr. and Mrs. Barnes talked with Dad about everything in the city and how I’d been doing. I didn’t say much, practically glueing myself to Dad’s side on the couch, but I could feel myself getting a little antsy. Emma was worse at hiding it than me, though, so Mr. and Mrs. Barnes told us we could open our presents before long.

Mom, Dad, and I were an open-presents-one-at-a-time kind of family, which I guess made sense because there were only three of us. The Barnes, apparently, were a free-for-all kind of family, with the kids crawling on the ground around the tree to retrieve the presents and passing them around as needed before tearing into them. It was kind of weird, but there were enough people that I knew I’d be bored out of my mind waiting for everyone else to open their gifts before waiting for my turn again.

Plus, I didn’t really want to watch everyone open my gifts. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t great either. Chocolate, mostly, because it was what I could get easily, cheaply, and on short notice. I got Emma some bracelets awhile ago, and I knew she’d like them, but they didn’t really hold up against the nicer, more expensive gifts her parents got her. Dad seemed to like his gifts at least, a map quiz book I’d gotten for him at the bookstore, and a ferry keychain that doubled as a bottle opener that Mom and I had gotten for him the last time we took a trip to Boston. 

I didn’t mention that last part. Maybe another time, but there was already a bit of tension in the air, and I didn’t want to ruin the mood.

I wasn’t expecting much from Dad, all things considered, but he brought some good gifts. Books were a safe go-to, usually, and Dad delivered on that front, along with some cool magnetic bookmarks. But he also got me some cape stuff, which was pretty surprising: an introductory guidebook to Protectorate-affiliated capes and a hoodie designed to look like Satyrical’s costume. 

Where had Dad gotten that? There was no way the PRT gift shop had any Satyr merch yet, and it was even more unlikely that Dad had gone there… Well, I wanted to say ever, but Mom did work at the PRT HQ, so he’d probably been in there quite a bit. Still, this had to be a recent purchase, considering how recently Satyr came to Brockton Bay…

Dad laughed a bit when I rambled, trying to explain my thought process without much luck. “An old friend of your Mom is thinking about transferring from Vegas to Brockton Bay. He said you could be a trendsetter and get your classmates into Vegas Protectorate merch. I thought Satyrical’s would be more… appropriate than Floret’s.”

Ugh, yeah. Floret basically just wore leaves. Would the PRT merch department even make clothes modeled after her costume? Satyrical usually went shirtless, but he wore a jacket in the colder months, which the hoodie I got was made to look like. Maybe it was even the same one? I’d have to look for some pictures of him on PHO later.

As nice as it all was, it all had to come to an end. After a couple more hours of lounging, chatting, and checking out our gifts, a knock sounded at the door, and Dad got to his feet. “That’s probably my ride.”

I suddenly felt very small and felt the urge to reach out and grab his hand. I didn’t, because I was thirteen, too old for that, and because Dad was already halfway across the room. Still, I asked, “Do you have to go?”

Dad faltered a bit and turned to look at me. “Yeah. I’m sorry, kiddo, but you’re having fun here with Emma, aren’t you?”

Not really, but I nodded and watched as Dad moved to open the door.

The bald man was there. Mr. Creel, the one who’d taken Dad away, and the one who’d been hovering behind the Protectorate when Dad went to see them the night Mom died.

His eyes met mine, and I was filled with an eerie, prickling feeling.

There was just something that screamed unnatural, but I couldn’t really place why. He was bald, which I guess wasn’t all that weird, but he was also really pale, almost albino, even though he didn’t have any of the other features that I knew characterized albino people. Judgmental of me, maybe, but it wasn’t just that. The look he had in his eyes, the way he was always sort of hanging back, the way he’d appeared in our lives out of nowhere…

He must’ve been a parahuman. I couldn’t think of any other explanation. It was an insane thought to have, I knew, and maybe I really was reading too many cape conspiracy theories on PHO, but my life really felt like a conspiracy theory right now.

“Hi, Taylor,” Mr. Creel said, and I jolted. He was smiling at me, a warm sort of softness to it that made me want to shiver. It was really creepy, like the expression didn’t belong on his face.

“Hi,” I responded and turned my attention back to Dad. I bundled into his side, giving him one last good hug. “Can we call again soon?”

“Of course,” Dad said, putting one arm behind my back to return the hug and patting my shoulder. “I really am feeling a lot better. It shouldn’t be too much longer, kiddo.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not, but I was back home a couple days before the end of winter break.

The Barnes dropped me off, telling me I could come back if I ever needed or wanted to. There were a couple of cars I didn’t recognize parked outside my house, and I expected Mr. Creel to be there when Dad let me in, and he was, but there were some people I recognized, too. Mom and Dad’s friends, mostly. Kurt and Lacey, Ethan and Jamie, Shaun and Jennifer, Hannah… Some new guy named Mateo, who was apparently the guy Dad knew from Vegas. He seemed nice, even if he didn’t seem bothered by Mr. Creel. No one did, actually, and I wondered if I was reacting to something that wasn’t there.

But no, the longer I saw Mr. Creel just sort of doing stuff around the house, the more I knew I was right.

Everything about him just felt a little off. The way he moved, the way Dad seemed so comfortable with him even though I’d never met him, the way he seemed so confident navigating our house, the way everyone else let him take the lead on things even though he was a stranger…

Well, not everyone. Kurt and Lacey weren’t as at ease around him, but they weren’t really bothered.

“I didn’t really know him back in the day,” Kurt told me when I mustered the courage to ask, “but I know he and your dad used to be pretty close. I think they lived together before he moved in with your mom.”

Huh. Dad’s old roommate? It would explain parts of it, but I was still in the dark so much about what was going on with Dad, and this felt like something I could latch onto.

He was being helpful, though. Everyone was. Making sure the pantry was stocked, putting lists of things Dad had to remember to do every day on the door, mounting a whiteboard calendar, mounting a paper calendar right next to it… It was a lot of reminders. Take your medicine, go to doctor’s appointments, don’t skip therapy sessions…

There was a lot Dad had to do, I was realizing. Notes for appointments throughout the day and days he would have to be gone at night. It was fine, I was old enough to be on my own for a bit, but it was a little daunting. I still didn’t know a thing about Dad’s condition, but it seemed like taking care of his health was going to be a lot of work.

“Are you still on a special diet like you were for Christmas?” I asked once everyone had left. Mrs. Barnes hadn’t explicitly told me not to tell Dad she’d told me he couldn’t eat that day, but it still felt a little wrong to bring it up. Still, I knew it was important. I hadn’t really linked Dad’s vomiting to his new health issues, but I was pretty sure there was some kind of connection there.

Dad shook his head. “The doctors said I should just try to eat healthy and I’d be fine as long as I took my medicine and, um, have regular check-ups.”

That was a relief. I would try cooking new things if I had to, but I was glad I didn’t. Hopefully, things could start getting back to normal now.

January 2009

On the first day back in class, I snuck a glance at PHO from one of the computers in the library during a break and immediately regretted it. The Protectorate had some kind of huge announcement, and I was missing it!

Dad picked me and Emma up from school that day because he wasn’t back at work quite yet. I made it about a minute before blurting out what I was thinking. “Did you hear anything about the Protectorate’s press conference today?”

Dad looked a little surprised by the question, sparing me about a half-second’s glance before returning his eyes to the road. “I did. I didn’t think you were interested in that kind of stuff.”

“She got really into it over winter break,” Emma said, and it wasn’t quite a complaint, but I could hear the negative tone to it.

“I was researching current events,” I argued, twisting to look over the back of my seat at her before looking back at Dad. “After the whole rat thing, I saw someone online say that the Protectorate was planning to announce something big.”

Dad made a noise of agreement. “It was pretty big.”

“You saw it?”

“Even better. I recorded it on the DVR,” Dad answered, and I could feel myself grinning. Behind us, Emma groaned. I felt a flash of annoyance at that, but Dad just chuckled. “You two can go to a coffee shop or the movies or something afterward. I think it’ll do you kids some good to know what’s going on in your hometown.”

“Okay,” Emma agreed easily enough, though I could still tell she wasn’t thrilled about the promise of watching the news. I didn’t really care, though. Total win/win for me.

Emma wandered off a bit when we got home, rooting around the kitchen for a snack, but I sat right on the couch and watched Dad mess with the DVR. Emma was back with a bowl of these weird healthy chips someone had bought for Dad before Dad had the recording going, but I was excited enough that I didn’t care that he was taking so long.

“Hello everyone,” Armsmaster started, addressing the crowd from behind a podium with a microphone. I couldn’t tell where he was, but I assumed that he was at some setup in front of the PRT building. “I have three main points to cover today, so there will be a ten-minute break for questions between each one, and then we will be moving on.”

The book on capes that Dad got me said that Armsmaster’s Tinker specialty was efficiency. I didn’t really understand what that meant, but it kind of made sense listening to him talk. He was getting right to the point.

The first section wasn’t something I really cared about. Or, I did care about it, but it was old news. Armsmaster talked a little bit about the rat battle and the Simurgh attack, but he didn’t really give any new details. He thanked the city for its patience while the Protectorate and Wards were trying to put a stop to the source of the Vermillion swarms and explained where to find resources if anyone in the crowd knew anyone in Madison.

This was the first Simurgh attack in the United States, so I guess it was reasonable to assume that the general public might not know about the quarantine, but it still wasn’t super exciting to me. Armsmaster dodged most of the questions the reporters asked, both about the Simurgh and the Vermillions. Really the only new thing he said was to confirm that the PRT was, in fact, aware of the nickname given to the rat swarms, but he didn’t confirm whether they were using it. Whatever. The Wards had been documented using the name, so that was enough for PHO.

The next portion of the conference was a little more exciting.

“Anyone who followed the recent battles will know that the Brockton Bay Protectorate received help from New York’s Prism and Ursa Aurora and Las Vegas’s Floret and Satyrical. I have the honor of announcing that Satyrical will be staying in Brockton Bay for some time,” Armsmaster said, “to support his newly rebranded partner, Geode!”

I hadn’t noticed there was a curtain behind Armsmaster until Satyrical was bursting through it, somersaulting with a flourish. A familiar-looking cape sauntered out after him, less theatrical but still pretty showy, and waved out at the crowd.

“Isn’t that just Platinum?” Emma asked before loudly crunching on a chip.

“Her costume looks different,” I noted. It was pretty similar, but the piece on her chest was gone, making the crystalline formations on her arms and head look a little bigger.

“Geode may look familiar to you. The PRT is aware that many of Platinum’s fans have been wondering where she has been the past few months,” Armsmaster explained as murmurs broke out in the crowd on-screen. “Geode, would you like to explain?”

Platinum stepped up to the mic, and now that the camera was focused on her, I could tell more than just her costume had changed. She looked like a totally different person.

“Hello everyone,” Platinum—Geode?— said to the crowd. She didn’t really sound like herself either. “Like Armsmaster said, I know I’ve been gone for a little bit. The truth is, I realized just couldn’t keep living as a woman. I’ve known I’m a transgender man since before I joined the Protectorate, and I decided it was time I stop ignoring it. So, moving forward, I will be known as Geode. Platinum was always known for playing with gender in Vegas, so I hope Brockton Bay will come to know this version of me like my old stomping grounds did.”

Satyrical stepped up to the mic, expressing his support and saying something about how all the proceeds from old Platinum merchandise would be going to some charity, but I couldn’t really hear it because Emma was talking now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked, and I was pretty sure it was more directed at Dad than me. “Where’d her boobs go?”

“A transgender person’s someone who was assigned one sex at birth but realizes later that the way they feel inside doesn’t match up with that,” Dad explained, and it sounded like he was reading even though I knew he wasn’t. “In Geode’s case, he was assigned female at birth, like you two, but he feels more like a man, like me, so he’s making some changes in his life to make himself feel more comfortable about it, like changing his name from Platinum to Geode.”

“How’s that different from being a drag queen?” I asked, trying to sound genuine. “I read onl- um, that book you gave me had a double page for Platinum and Satyrical. It said they used to be drag queens together?”

“Close. Satyrical was a drag king, not a drag queen, and both of them were pretty non-traditional drag performers. Normally, a drag queen is a gay man who dresses like a woman as a type of self-expression or an art form. It’s more for entertainment,” Dad explained, and again, I felt like he was reading something, but he was looking right at me when he said it. 

Maybe he just knew all this stuff? He did say he and Mom used to live in Vegas.

“Being transgender is different because it’s more about who you are than what you do,” Dad went on. “Satyrical would dress up hypermasculine and Pl- um, Geode would dress up with hyperfeminine. Sometimes they’d switch it up, but usually they’d match their assigned genders. But they just were doing that for shows. Now, Geode’s making changes because it feels right to him to live completely as a man.”

“I don’t get it,” Emma said, wrinkling her nose. “Why can’t she just wear boy clothes and keep being a girl?”

“Because he’s not a girl,” Dad said patiently, but I thought he sounded a little disappointed. 

“How do you know all this stuff?” I asked, sort of changing the subject before Emma could keep arguing. I didn’t think she was going to get it. I didn’t really understand it either, but I still knew Dad was probably right, even if I didn’t know why.

“I worked for the drag union when we lived in Las Vegas,” Dad answered simply. Emma crinkled her nose again, but Dad didn’t seem to notice. “You meet a lot of interesting folks and learn a lot in a space like that.”

“More like weird folks,” Emma muttered, and Dad didn’t miss it that time.

“This might be something to talk to your parents about,” Dad said almost hesitantly. I wasn’t really sure why, but at least I could listen to the TV again now.

The questions from the reporters in the crowd were pretty varied.

“Are you worried about being openly transgender in a city with a high Neo-Nazi population?”

“Were you gone because you were getting a sex change operation?”

“Is Platinum going to show up again as a drag persona?”

“What do you have to say to parents with kids who are fans of yours? How are they supposed to explain what happened to their kids’ favorite hero?”

“Are you dating Satyrical now that you’re a man?”

Satyr answered some of the questions even though they weren’t directed at him, and Armsmaster ended the Q&A portion before the ten minutes were up. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, if anything. Satyr and Geode didn’t look hurried to get off the stage, but they weren’t as flashy as they’d been before.

The last section promised to be exciting, though.

“Last but not least, today I will be welcoming two new heroes who assisted in the battle against the rat swarms to the Protectorate,” Armsmaster announced and held out a hand to his side toward the curtain. “Pretender and Rat Race!”

These two weren’t as theatrical as Satyr and Geode, but Pretender was still playing to the crowd a bit. His costume was fairly simple, a gray and purple thing with a reddish pattern on the chest. The main thing that stood out was the purple visor covering his eyes and a design of a third eye on his forehead, which I guess was kind of cool, but he was pretty overshadowed by Rat Race.

Rat Race looked terrible.

He had this flowing green cloak and these terrible gloves and boots designed to look like rat claws. Whoever thought that was a good idea should’ve been fired immediately. But that wasn’t even the worst part. His mask was this bone-white rat skull helmet that wrapped all the way around his head, protruding from his face and covering his jaw. A bit of pale white skin was visible, but just barely, blocked from view by these giant rat teeth.

Emma made a noise of disgust, but disgust was just about the farthest thing from my mind. Rat Race was scary, and it got so much worse when the camera panned to get a close-up on him. That rat skull mask was way too realistic. When he turned, it was like those huge, hollow eye sockets were boring right into the camera.

I expected to see eyes behind them. A little bit of skin was visible through the rat skull’s mouth where the cheeks should be, so I was really expecting to see a little bit of white at the very least, but it was all black back there. It just made Rat Race’s stare even scarier.

All at once, something clicked together in my mind.

The rats in the house. How that one had turned when Dad turned. Dad’s illness. The way the Vermillion Ladies looked like Mom. That strange man, how he was always hovering and just giving off that odd, unnatural energy. How PHO knew there was a new Master in town.

That had to be him. Mr. Creel, Rat Race, whoever he was. He was the source of everything that’d been going wrong in my life lately. I didn’t know how or why yet, but I knew. It was him.

Chapter Text

January - April 2009

I couldn’t actually do anything with the realization I’d had, but I did try writing out my theory in my notebook, and I made a PHO account so I could better keep up on information about the Protectorate’s newest members.

I was so freaked out that I kind of missed the end of the press conference, and then I was too focused on trying to seem normal in front of Emma the rest of the afternoon to try to remember it, so I ended up watching it again when it was just me and Dad.

Armsmaster said that Pretender and Rat Race both had support powers, Pretender being able to boost some capes’ parahuman abilities, and Rat Race being some kind of sensory Thinker. I didn’t really believe it. Rat Race had to be a Master, and PHO agreed.

There’d already been some theories that Rat Race, or Pied Piper as we’d called him at the time, had been controlling the Vermillion swarms. It was too much of a coincidence. The capes fought the Vermillion swarms for days, and then Rat Race just shows up, and the rat problem goes away? It didn’t feel right, and PHO had a lot to say about it.

And about Rat Race’s name. And Pretender’s name. And Geode’s name. And Platinum’s rebrand. And Geode’s transgenderness. And Satyrical transferring to Brockton Bay. And whether Geode and Satyr were dating, and whether Pretender and Rat Race were dating.

PHO just had a lot to say in general, and I was right in there with them.

It still didn’t help, though, because how was I supposed to tell Dad that his friend was a rat supervillain Master posing as a hero? I couldn’t, especially when Mr. Creel was practically coming over every week and Dad always seemed so happy to see him.

A lot of people were coming over, actually, not just Mr. Creel. Dad was doing a lot better. It’d been pretty obvious in those first few days, and it became even more obvious over the next few months. He was eating, and he was going to his doctor’s appointment, and he was being social even though Mom wasn’t there, and it looked like he’d regained some of the weight he’d lost, and he wasn’t the same Dad he used to be, but he was getting there. More than I was, at least.

I felt like I was getting worse.

I felt like I’d shattered into pieces when Mom died, but I felt like I’d picked up those pieces and stuck them back together pretty well. The whole thing with Dad over winter break made some of the glue peel, though, and the unease I felt anytime Mr. Creel came over made the damage just go a lot deeper.

Okay, weird metaphor. I tried drawing it out, just like I tried drawing that creepy vibe I got off the rats when I’d seen them in the house, and that eerie feeling I got when I caught Mr. Creel staring at me, but I wasn’t a very good artist. I wasn’t a very good writer either, but I felt like I was doing something by writing everything down in my notebook, documenting every weird little thing I was noticing, so I could try to connect it all together later on.

I didn’t have much luck. For all my notes and pictures, it all sounded like nonsense when I tried mapping it all out on a cheap piece of poster board I got at the craft store for this exact purpose. The connections were loose, and I didn’t really have anything tangible to explain what I knew was true, and that just made it all almost more frustrating than it was scary. I knew I wasn’t imagining things, but I knew I would sound irrational if I tried to explain it.

I tried putting my thoughts together for a PHO post, not my full story, but something to plant the seeds. I explained the connection between Rat Race and the Vermillion swarms, how suspicious the timing of it all was, but the response I got was pretty mixed. Everyone went to either extreme, either insisting that the Protectorate didn’t take in villains or taking it to pure conspiracy theory levels.

Because what I had written out on the poster board under my bed totally wasn’t a conspiracy theory. Right.

I pulled the poster board out from under my bed near daily. Not even to add anything, just to look at it. It was something physical, something real. A reminder that this wasn’t all in my head. 

There was something really wrong with Dad in December. 

That rat had turned to look at me the same time Dad did. 

Mr. Creel had been at the PRT HQ the night Mom died. 

Emma agreed the Vermillion swarms looked like Mom.

It was suspicious that a Master was seen working with the Protectorate after they’d been fighting a city-level threat for nearly a week.

There was no way it was a coincidence that the Master had a rat-themed powers, or that he’d been seen commanding the same rats that made up the Vermillion Ladies.

How Mr. Creel-maybe-Rat-Race had just shown up in our lives out of nowhere, acting like he belonged here, and no one but me was questioning it.

That last part I knew was a bit of a stretch, but I knew, I knew, I knew. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew. There was something off about him, and he had some kind of effect on Dad and everyone else, but not on me, and it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I made it about three months before the stress of it all consumed my mind so thoroughly that I knew I couldn’t keep it all inside anymore. I had to tell someone. I couldn’t deal with it all on my own anymore.

“You know that new rat hero?” I asked Emma, trying to sound as casual as possible. We were in my room, sitting on my bed like we had a thousand times, and I had one leg over the side of the bed, my sock-covered toe just barely touching the corner of my poster board. It was there. It was real. It was proof I wasn’t making this up. And if I just showed Emma, she’d understand, and I wouldn’t be alone with these thoughts anymore.

I didn’t get that far.

“I’m tired of listening to you talk about superheroes,” Emma complained, flopping back on my bed. I moved my foot, no longer touching the corner of the poster board below. “That’s boy stuff! There are so many better things to talk about!”

“Okay,” I responded, feeling something inside me just crumple at the slightest hint of resistance. I’d been so ready to let it all out a moment ago, but now? I didn’t know where that will had gone, and I was left feeling as small and raw as I’d felt when Dad left the Barnes’ house on Christmas. “What do you want to talk about?”

What kinds of clothes she wanted to buy, the latest gossip among the girls at school, what was going on with the hottest celebrities, how apparently I should start wearing a push-up bra, how we could start going to parties when we started high school in a few months, how lame our Dads were…

I didn’t care about any of that stuff. I didn’t want to talk about any of that. It seemed so trivial. I had real problems! Wasting time and brainpower learning how to put on makeup or speculating who liked who just felt so stupid. It was like Emma was living in a completely different world than I was.

But, in those moments, that random spring afternoon sitting on my bed, I became aware of how much worse it would be if Emma wasn’t here. I didn’t care about all the things she thought were important, but I had to, or I wasn’t sure I would have the will to keep fighting to understand the things I knew were important. If she wasn’t there, I’d just be here in my room all alone.

It was still really hard, though, and I had to take whatever chance of escape I got. 

Surprisingly, it was Dad who offered it.

“Were you thinking about going to summer camp this year, kiddo?” Dad asked one night over dinner. We usually didn’t talk that much, even if we made a point of eating together, but the break in the silence was almost always welcome. Any reminder that things weren’t like they were after Mom died was always welcome. “I’d understand if you wanted to stay home this year, but it might be nice to get away for a bit.”

The question was a little unexpected. “Um, I hadn’t thought about it. Can- Can we afford it?”

I never really knew much about our financial situation other than that we were well off enough to live in a house in a neighborhood without a lot of gang activity, but we weren’t making Mr. Barnes-level money. Summer camp every year was a pretty big luxury for me.

Dad seemed even more surprised by my question than I’d been about his. “Why wouldn’t we be able to afford it?”

I was filled with a very new, very different kind of fear. Had Dad been spending money we didn’t have? “Um, because we’re not getting money from Mom working anymore? And all your doctor’s appointments are probably pretty expensive.”

I didn’t want to say that last part, but it just kind of slipped out. I tried not to visibly cringe. I didn’t want Dad thinking I was blaming him when he was already doing so much for us.

Dad shook his head rapidly. “No. God, no, Taylor, we’re fine. The PRT offered a really good life insurance plan for your Mom, and I still get my health insurance through them. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I didn’t know you were thinking about that kind of thing.”

Relief flooded my system. That hadn’t really been my priority, but it was still a weight off my shoulders. “I want to go to summer camp then.”

I wasn’t really looking forward to it in the same way as before. Seeing my camp friends and spending time outside really wasn’t all that appealing anymore. But, once the notion of escape entered my head, I was overwhelmingly aware of how trapped I felt here. I knew there was nothing scary at home, that it was just home, but I still felt like there was a presence. The rats, the Master, I didn’t know, but I just needed to get out.

Summer couldn’t come fast enough.

July 2009

I missed being able to go on PHO, but I think it was really good for me to get away from it all. I was probably too old to be making friendship bracelets and playing tag, but everyone else was doing it, and it was really nice to get out of my head. It was sort of like a fog had lifted, like I’d gotten released from some invisible force’s clutches just by leaving Brockton Bay.

It was always kind of there at the back of my mind, though. Enough so that on one of the nights we made a campfire and people were asking about scary stories, I knew exactly what to say.

“You’re from Brockton Bay, right?” a boy that I sort of knew, one that had been coming the past few years, but I hadn’t spent much time around, asked me when a lull sort of hit the group. None of the stories had been all that good so far, and people were itching for something juicy. “My dad says it’s really dangerous there because of all the supervillains. I bet you’ve got good stories.”

I nodded, feeling my stomach leap to my throat as it dawned on me I was finally going to say everything I kept bottled up inside me all these months. I leaned forward and said, “Let me tell you about the rat Master.”

That wasn’t his name, but that was who he was to me, and these people probably didn’t even know who Rat Race was anyway. Rat Race had some fans, but he was no Dauntless or Miss Militia.

I talked about how he drifted through the town, ghosting through people’s homes, making them sick, but really, he was just scouting out his next victim. He selected a woman, a quiet one with a hero’s heart, and set the rats to consume her, swallowing her very essence until the rats knew how to bring her back to life. 

The rats grew, mutating into these writhing masses of skinny, hairless tails that let them bind themselves together, creating true colonies. They terrorized the docks, sending even the scariest gangs into hiding, and overwhelmed the heroes to the point they had to call for help, and even then, they weren’t able to stop them. Not when the rat Master was still making people sick, still drawing on their energy to create more soldiers for his army.

“It went on for seven days and seven nights,” I said, even though that wasn’t really true. It felt true, and the flickering campfire against the darkness made my words take on a quality that they hadn’t all the times I’d practiced how I’d tell Emma or Dad in my head. “The heroes couldn’t do a thing to stop them, and the rat Master knew it. So, he gave in.”

Someone scoffed, but I kept talking. About how the rat Master approached the heroes, offering his services as a Pied Piper and collected all the rats back up. But that wasn’t the end of it because he wasn’t just a rat Master. He could puppet people too, and the heroes were in his thrall, and so were the friends and family of the woman he’d killed.

There was only one person who saw through it all, the victim’s daughter. No one believed her, though, the Master charming anyone who might’ve listened.

The girl screamed and screamed, but everyone around her was content to ignore her cries for help until she just broke.

I felt lightheaded and out of breath when I finished. Finally, it was out there. I wasn’t alone in this anymore.

“I thought you were going to tell a real story,” the boy from before complained, and my heart sank.

“It is real,” I insisted, a fire roaring up inside me. I wasn’t going to chicken out like I had with Emma just because I was getting a little resistance. This was real. My story was real. It was real.

“What, did it happen to you?”

I felt that fire in me dim, even though I had just sworn to myself I wouldn’t let it. What was I supposed to say? Say yes? Even if they believed me, what were these kids who didn’t live in Brockton Bay supposed to do? At best, they’d tell the counselors I needed help, but then there was that problem of convincing them it was real again. If they decided it wasn’t… 

I didn’t really know what would happen. I’m sure real life wasn’t like the movies where they took someone away if they thought they were crazy. But Dad had gone away for weeks when he wasn’t doing well, and no one thought he was crazy, as far as I knew at least. What would happen to me?

“Well?” someone else prompted. “Did it?”

“No,” I said softly. I swallowed. “I saw it on Parahumans Humans Online.”

Some of the kids guffawed, and some jeered. I tried not to shrink in on myself.

There were a couple kids from Boston, and the rest of the kids started needling them for cape stories. I was too downtrodden to listen, even if cape stuff was a lot more exciting than regular campfire stories. I just couldn’t find it in me to care.

The magic of summer camp was gone. The only magic left now was the kind that made my life a horror story.

August 2009

I wanted to leave camp, which was odd because I didn’t really want to go home either.

I was pretty sure I was just embarrassed after no one liked my story, but I also knew I was making a bigger deal out of it than it was. Still, it got me thinking about home again, and it was good to see Dad when he came to pick me up. We talked the whole way home, me chattering about all the things we did at camp, and Dad telling me a little bit about what he’d been up to at the DWA.

It felt normal again, but I should have known by now that “normal” always came crashing down.

There was a weird vibe to the house. Not a presence like I’d worked myself up into believing before, but there was still something a little weird about it, and I couldn’t place it.

It was only after I’d been home for awhile and had the time to drift through the house a bit that I got it. The house felt a little off because everything was a little off. A jacket Dad didn’t wear on the hook, cups only Mom used in the dishwasher, furniture moved just a little bit like someone had been cleaning, little things like that.

I felt whatever progress I’d made or healing I’d done being away at summer camp unravel pretty quickly. I added notes to my notebook and a new point to my conspiracy board right when I connected the dots.

I still didn’t know what was happening. The story I told at camp, even if it pieced everything together, wasn’t realistic. The story was just the height of all my worst theories put together. There was no way a Master got a bunch of rats to suck up my mom’s essence and was piloting her soul around my house. Dad would definitely notice, and I wasn’t sure I even really believed in souls.

Still, I knew. I knew, I knew, I knew.

Mom’s ghost was here, and the Master was making it happen.

It wasn’t just some idea I had. It wasn’t some fantasy I got caught up in to explain what was happening to me. It wasn’t even a belief. I knew.

I had to get out of here.

Dad didn’t really question me leaving because why would he? It was still summer, and I’d just been gone for a month. He probably thought I was going to go see Emma.

Emma. I should tell her. Even though I chickened out of telling her a couple months ago and even though me trying to tell the kids at camp was a monumental failure, she was my best friend, and I knew she’d be there for me.

Except, when I got there, she was with someone else. And she didn’t want to talk to me, leaving me to walk home confused and feeling even alone than I had before.

At least Dad was there. He seemed surprised to see me again so soon. “I thought you were going to see Emma?”

“She was busy,” I told him with a shrug, but didn’t elaborate. Over the next couple weeks, I tried going to her house again and kept telling Dad I was “going to see Emma” even when it was clear that there would be no more going to see Emma.

September - November 2009

I didn’t know what happened.

I tried approaching Emma at school, even though we hadn’t talked in weeks, but she turned me away, and the other girls she was hanging out with were pretty unfriendly. I didn’t understand it. I’d always sort of known that Emma could’ve had a lot more friends if she wanted to, but she always said she only needed me. I didn’t understand what changed.

Except I kind of did. Mom had died, and she’d been there, but then Dad hadn’t been doing well, and she’d had to be there in a different way. She didn’t just watch me cry, then watch me go home to pull myself back together that time. She saw me when I was falling apart, and she saw what I’d done to try to put myself back together.

PHO theories. Following local cape activities. Being a cape fan. Talking in online forums. Those things had saved me, made me feel a little more sane, but Emma wasn’t interested in those things, and me leaving for summer camp was enough for her to realize she could find people more suited for her.

“Look how geeky she is!”

“Nerd! Only boys like that kind of stuff.”

“She kind of looks like a boy. Emma’s way prettier than her!”

The bullies never failed to remind me what I’d done wrong. It was just words, though, and I could take that. My brain told me far scarier things. But it started getting physical pretty fast.

The first thing was my Satyrical hoodie getting taken from my backpack. I found it in the trash, and I took it home to wash, but a girl smeared ketchup all over the back about a week later, so I stopped wearing it to school. It was one of my favorite things I’d gotten from Dad, so I didn’t want to risk it getting any more messed up than it already was.

I wished I’d had the same sense with my other belongings. I was in the music class this year, and that meant having instruments. Mom had a flute, and she never really learned how to play it, even if she tried to learn pretty much my whole life, so I thought maybe I’d feel closer to her in all this if I learned too, but…

Someone got into my locker and broke it. Clean in half, like it’d been snapped over a rail, or maybe someone hit it with something sharp. That was when I knew things weren’t going back to the way they were with Emma.

It could have been someone else. I mean, the bullies had messed with my books too, so messing with my flute wasn’t that big of a jump. But Emma had known that was Mom’s flute, and she’d been within line of sight when I found the broken pieces. I looked at her and saw that her face was utterly expressionless, almost cool and calculated, and I knew that this was her doing. Maybe she hadn’t been the one to break it, but she could’ve told someone this was how to hurt me.

I cried over it. I’d made it to the bathroom in time, but I still cried over it. I didn’t know what I was crying over, the loss of the flute or Emma’s betrayal. Either way, I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d cried in the year since Mom died, and I guess I had a lot bottled up because I missed half of my next class just because I’d been crying so much.

I felt… better. The release was nice, but it was still humiliating to show up to class late with tear tracks on my face.

I got more paranoid after that. No, I didn’t like that word. Anxious? Anxious made it sound like there was something wrong with me, like I was going crazy, which I knew I wasn’t, even though I felt like it. That presence at home, that feeling that someone had been there that shouldn’t have been, and now at school, constantly having to watch over my shoulder, having no real escape, it was too much. Maybe anxious was the right word.

I got smarter about it, though. Or at least I thought I did. I got pretty good at knowing when the bullies were en route and figuring out how to get away before they found me, though there was no way I could avoid them all day. Sometimes we were stuck in class together, or sometimes I just missed them, but there were always at least a couple times per day I managed to dodge them, which I was privately a little proud of.

I didn’t think there was anything unnatural about it until it became really obvious there was something unnatural about it.

It was the end of the school day, and I was walking home, but the track team was warming up with laps around the school, only they’d deviated from their usual route. I hadn’t sensed them coming until Sophia’s fist was in my stomach.

Then there were more punches, and then I was on the ground, my feet kicked out from under me, and the blows kept coming.

Were they seriously beating me up? The thought was somehow clear through the smattering of pain that’d consumed me. I’d never really felt pain before, I realized, at least not in the physical sense. I’d never broken a bone before, never had surgery, and never been in a fight. I didn’t even know pain could feel like this until it was raining down on me.

It became bearable pretty quickly, though. It felt like my mind was out of my body, which wasn’t really something new, but I’d just never been aware of it, not at this level. Little points all around me, grounding my mind while it couldn’t be in my body.

I could still feel everything, though, even if I wasn’t focused on it. My bones hurt, which wasn’t something I knew could happen, but there was something else too. Something more internal. My stomach? No. My heart? Probably not. Not an organ. More of a feeling. But I could tell what it was. It was like… Was I going to throw up?

I tried to shift my attention from my surroundings back inward, trying to keep it together. I couldn’t really tell what way I was facing, not with my arms around my neck, blocking my vision, trying to protect my head. If I was facing down, I’d just fall into my own vomit, but if I was facing up, I might choke on it. That was a thing, right?

It wasn’t a feeling in my throat, though. I wasn’t sure where it was, but I fixated my attention on it and focused on the notion of keeping it all in until the beatings stopped, and that out-of-body feeling told me that Sophia and the other track girls were gone.

I let myself go.

I’d thought of myself as falling apart and coming back together a lot, but that was always just a metaphor for how awful I felt after Mom died. Now, I felt like I was literally falling apart, little pieces of me sloughing off into the world around me. I could feel them, little parts of me falling off and crawling around me.

It took me a few minutes to mentally register that wasn’t right. The beating hadn’t actually been that long, not as bad or long as it felt, and I’d probably been lying here longer than I’d been getting kicked. My whole body still hurt, but it was starting to fade. That sloughing feeling had stopped, too, but my hands and ribs still felt… not quite right.

I opened my eyes and saw bugs where my hands were supposed to be.

I screamed, and like in the story I told at summer camp, no one answered.

Chapter Text

December 14 2008

Danny didn’t know why some days and nights were worse than others, but this was a bad one, and he didn’t know if he was going to make it until morning.

Danny crouched in the corner of his room, face hovering over a big metal salad bowl from the kitchen as his stomach clenched and he heaved into it. Black tendrils spewed from his mouth in waves, and he tried to mask the sound of them splattering in his saliva at the bottom of the bowl the best he could. He wished he could be doing this over the sink in the bathroom, but he couldn’t risk Taylor hearing him again.

He knew the tendrils had woven themselves together, morphing into one of the rats he’d grown to know so well, when he could see himself hunched over the bowl, taking deep breaths now that the first wave was over. It was dark, but that didn’t matter to the rat’s sharp eyes. Danny could see just how awful he looked.

Danny fell asleep on his knees, face down in the bowl, but not after expelling about six rats’ worth of that writhing black mass. That might’ve been the most he’d ever done in one night. He had been doing a little better the past week, so maybe it’d just been building up until it was too much to keep inside anymore.

Danny’s eyes skimmed over to the clock. He’d be terribly late for work, but at least he’d made it until Taylor was off from school. Now he could try to hide the rats in peace.

Danny made it to the bottom of the stairs just barely and had to stop to take a break on the couch. He sent some of the rats scurrying off, looking for places around the house where he could hide them. The walls were basically full of them, so many that he had to really focus on keeping them quiet at night. He’d tried burying them early on, but Danny knew he didn’t have the energy to dig a hole right now. The neighbor’s shed, maybe? But he was already risking it with as many as he had in there.

Danny piloted one of his favorite rats to climb up on the coffee table to stare up at him so he could look at himself. He looked even worse than he did throwing up last night, thin and pasty in a way that he’d never seen himself since Annette died. Or, well, since Annette’s body died. Since Tommy left him. Or, didn’t leave him, but physically left their home. Whatever. It was all kind of the same.

It really wasn’t a surprise that he’d triggered. Danny didn’t know a lot about trigger events, but he knew they were caused by stress and trauma. He’d thought he wasn’t capable of triggering, having made it out of Diamond’s attack without powers, but apparently, being away from Tommy was a lot worse than that.

The rats sensed sound and movement around the house, but Danny was too distracted to acknowledge it. He probably had a few hundred rats by now scattered about his and the neighboring properties, and he was getting sensory input from them all. That should have been enough to drown out his thoughts, but he was getting caught up in a sort of hazy feeling from it all that was just making his spiral even worse.

“Dad? Dad?” Something was touching him. “Dad!”

Danny saw Taylor standing over him through more eyes than just his own.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening and even longer to find his voice. “Taylor? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

It was Monday. He’d planned for this, holding off moving the rats over the weekend so he could do it while Taylor was at school. Had he made a mistake?

“I’m… I’m on winter break,” she said slowly, and, shoot, she was right. It was winter. December, he knew that. “Why aren’t you at work?”

Danny hardly heard the question. Of course, he couldn’t rely on her being at school forever. What was he going to do now? He could try getting rid of the rats at night, but he’d already learned Taylor could hear him if he left his room. He could wait until she went to visit Emma? But he needed a reliable schedule if he was going to keep hiding all this.

His mind caught up with what he was seeing. Hiding all this… The rats were looking at Taylor. Taylor could see them. He tried to make them scatter, but he knew it was too late. She’d seen them.

“Fuck, I didn’t want…” Danny groaned. He flailed a bit, not sure what to do with his body, but his movements felt sluggish. “Taylor, close your eyes. Don’t look at them.”

There was only one rat looking at Taylor, but its eyes were a speck in a sea of others, so Danny couldn’t actually tell if she was following his instructions or not. He told himself it didn’t matter, even though it definitely did. Danny leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his feet, and forced himself to get up, stumbling through the living room. Where was his phone? He shouldn’t have let it get this bad…

“Danny?” Tommy’s voice was a comfort, even through the speaker of his cell phone. Danny took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself from falling over. “Danny, are you okay?”

“Tommy? Tommy, I need help,” Danny moaned, putting a hand on the kitchen counter to steady himself. One of his rats was still looking at Taylor, and Danny reminded himself that she couldn’t know any of this. “I think… I triggered. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Taylor’s here, and I need help…”

“You triggered? How- Never mind. We can talk about it later. I’m coming to get you. You said you need help? What do you need?” Tommy asked, and Danny couldn’t muster an answer, not with Taylor maybe listening. Tommy took it in stride, though. Maybe he knew what Danny was thinking. He always did. “Okay. Um, I’ll tell the PRT med bay to get ready for you, I guess, and we’ll figure it out from there. Give the phone to Taylor. I’m, um, I’ll call Alan, I guess? She’ll stay with the Barnes while we figure this out. Fuck, Danny, I’m sorry.”

Danny lowered the phone from his ear and forced himself to take one step after another, walking back into the living room. He offered Taylor the phone, mumbled something out he couldn’t hear himself say, and collapsed back on the couch. It was cold and damp, like he’d fallen into a puddle of his own sweat. He should probably drink some water, but Danny knew he was just going to throw it up again.

Again, Danny sensed movement throughout the house through the rats, but he couldn’t find it in him to move until he felt someone prodding his arm. “Danny? Danny?”

“Tommy?” Danny could see the face in front of him, but he also couldn’t. Familiar, even if it was a little different, but so very far away.

“Uh-huh. I’m here. Come on, let’s get you up.” Danny felt Tommy’s hands around his arms, and his body started to lift off the couch. Danny barely managed to get his feet flat on the ground in time to keep himself from falling. “We’re going to get someone to take a look at you, alright?”

“Taylor…” Danny protested weakly. She was still around here somewhere. He couldn’t leave her.

“She’s okay. A little spooked, I think, but she’s okay. We’re going to take her to the Barnes’ house, okay? Zoe and Alan will take care of her, and we can focus on you,” Tommy told him, and that sounded a little familiar. Alan and Zoe would take good care of her. And Tommy would take good care of Danny. 

Danny tried grabbing for his rat, the one still sitting on the coffee table, but it wasn’t there anymore, and Tommy was guiding him away. Danny didn’t like it, but he let him. Who could he trust to make him better if not his husband? Tommy knew what he was doing as he maneuvered him into the car and spoke softly to Taylor as he explained what they were doing. Tommy was doing what was best.

Danny kept telling himself that even as something deep inside him ached worse and worse the farther he got from his rats.

Danny was moaning when Pretender got back in the car after walking Taylor to the Barnes’ door. He probably should have stopped and talked to them a little bit more, but he was worried about Danny, and it seemed that worry was justified. Danny looked like he was in pain, and he’d just been holding himself back from expressing it until Taylor was gone.

“What’s wrong?” Pretender asked, leaning over to put his hand on Danny’s forehead. He wasn’t feverish, but he was clammy, which probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Too far.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Too far from what?”

“The rats,” Danny said simply, and Pretender started backing out of the Barnes’ driveway. He needed to get Danny to the PRT hospital. Danny had said he thought he had a trigger event, but as far as Pretender could tell, he was probably just sick, maybe a little delirious. Still, Pretender wasn’t going to risk anything when it came to Danny.

Danny was still moaning and groaning as they drove, but he went quiet after a little while. Pretender spared a glance at him and saw that he was sitting up straight, back rigid, with wide eyes. Pretender didn’t slow down, but he let himself risk a few more glances away from the road. “Danny? You okay?”

“Um, yeah. My head just got… I don’t know, really clear all of a sudden,” Danny responded, then slumped back down. “I still don’t feel great, but I feel like I’m not losing my mind anymore.”

That was weird. Pretender was going to take advantage of Danny’s lucidity, though. “Can you tell me what happened? You said you triggered?”

“In October, I think,” Danny replied, and damn, that was a long time ago. Tommy had seen Danny since then, not a lot, but enough that he should have noticed. Why hadn’t he noticed? “I’ve been vomiting rats.”

“What?” That didn’t sound real.

“I’ve been throwing up a lot. At least once a day. This black stuff comes out of me, and then it sort of squishes together into these rats,” Danny explained, voice steady but still a little muted at the same time, like he knew how insane what he was saying was, but believed it anyway. “I can kind of control them and see out of their eyes. Like, all the time. But I can’t feel them right now.”

Pretender thought about the way Danny had sat up. “Maybe your powers have a range? Rory- um, that’s Triumph, the leader of the Wards? His power’s got area of effect. And, uh, there was a Master on the team back in Vegas. He could only affect people if they were close enough. Maybe we drove out of your range?”

Danny didn’t really have any idea either, but they were close to the PRT building, so they dropped the thread of conversation and focused on getting Danny inside. Danny didn’t need help walking anymore, but Pretender could tell he was still a little weak and couldn’t help but hover.

The medical facility at the PRT HQ was a somewhat new addition, but one that Pretender and his coworkers thoroughly enjoyed. He’d gotten a lot of use from it when Annette’s body died, and no one was sure how twenty years of possession had affected his original body. Now, it would hopefully help Danny.

The staff were ready for them when they arrived, and Danny was brought to a private room before long. Danny explained what he’d just told Pretender, how he’d been vomiting and everything with the rats. The medical staff seemed interested at first, but quickly became distracted by the non-parahuman aspects of Danny’s health.

He’d lost about eight pounds, apparently, which didn’t sound like that much to Pretender, but the doctors found it concerning. He was dehydrated, suffering malnutrition, and showing signs of a lot of other health problems.

But Danny didn’t want to eat or drink when the medical staff pushed for it.

“I’m just going to throw it up,” Danny said, sounding a little miserable. The doctors weren’t having that, though.

“Does it hurt when you throw up?” Pretender tried. Danny just looked at him, and that was answer enough. He went for another approach. “Taylor’s not here, so you don’t have to hide it. We’re probably going to have to see it if we’re going to understand what’s going on with you. Can you just try?”

For me went left unsaid, but it was still heard. Pretender already felt guilty for asking Danny at all. It felt a little like manipulating him, even if this was far from the worst thing Pretender had done, and this was for Danny’s own good. Danny agreed, drinking some offered water and eating a sandwich from the cafeteria.

He seemed alright for awhile, answering the doctors’ questions easily and letting them do their tests, but he was vomiting in about two hours.

Pretender rubbed Danny’s shoulders as he hunched over the sink in the bathroom connected to his room, feeling even guiltier than before. It wasn’t his fault, he knew. Danny had to eat. But it was kind of his fault, wasn’t it? Danny had triggered because of him. He hadn’t died, sure, but all the stress he’d had in the past couple months had happened because of Pretender, because he’d been dumb enough to get Annette’s body killed. All this just because he’d been texting and driving. How stupid.

Pretender didn’t really want to watch Danny throw up, but he made himself do it anyway. Like Danny described, these black tendrils were coming out of his mouth, writing around in the sink once they’d exited Danny’s mouth. It looked uncomfortable, to say the least. Like pulling a big, long chunk of snot out of your nasal cavity when you were sick, or throwing up unchewed spaghetti. No wonder Danny wanted to avoid this.

Watching the tendrils bind themselves together into a rat was kind of interesting. There was just one, but it was pretty big. Danny sagged a bit when it finished forming, and he turned the sink on. Pretender first thought that he was going to try to wash it down the drain, but he was just rinsing the rat off, which it seemed to enjoy? It was a weird little creature, seeming content sitting in the basin of the sink and not reacting at all when Danny picked it up.

“I can see through their eyes,” Danny said, even though he’d told Pretender that before, lifting the rat so its face was angled toward Pretender. “It was weird not having them around, but it could be a bit much sometimes.”

Danny said he normally made more than one rat at a time, but he still seemed pretty tired after the one, so Pretender encouraged him to rest a bit. He expected some resistance, but Danny didn’t really protest, and Pretender got the chance to step out and inform his team of the situation.

Only, he couldn’t find any Wards around the base. No Protectorate members either. There were usually at least a few of them around, especially in the middle of the day.

He called Armsmaster. His team leader answered after a few rings. “Now’s not really the time, Pretender.”

“Where are you?” Pretender asked, ignoring what Armsmaster had just said. It sounded a little like he was fighting, the phone picking up the sounds of heavy breathing and movement in the background. “We’ve got a bit of a situation back at the base.”

“We’re dealing with a big situation in the city. Mostly the docks and downtown,” Armsmaster responded, and the heroes’ absence suddenly made sense. Pretender was a little miffed that he hadn’t been told, but it wasn’t like he was doing much fighting these days. “Brockton Bay is covered in rats, and all our men are busy fighting these humanoid swarms. There’s some kind of new Master in town, but no one has had any luck finding them.”

“Um…” Rats? Shit. “Come back to the base. I’m pretty sure I’ve got the Master here.”

“The Master’s attacking the island?”

“The PRT HQ, I mean. And no, he’s not attacking anyone.” Pretender started walking back toward the hospital. “Medical’s been poking him the past few hours. I think he’s taking a nap right now.”

“He’s taking a nap?” Armsmaster sounded bewildered, which normally Pretender would find a little joy in, but he was far too worried to be thinking about such things. The Protectorate was fighting rats? Or rather, the rats were attacking? That didn’t sound like Danny. 

“Just come back. It’ll be easier to explain in person,” Pretender told him and hung up the phone. He started walking a little faster, eventually breaking into a light jog, worried about Danny.

But Danny was fine when he got back to the hospital room. He was sound asleep, head propped up on some pillows with his rat resting on his chest. The rat looked up when Pretender walked into the room, which was a little creepy, but Danny didn’t stir.

Pretender felt bad waking him. It really hadn’t been that long since Pretender had told him to rest, but it was better that he knew Armsmaster was coming rather than just waking up and finding Pretender’s boss in his hospital room. “Babe? Danny?”

Danny stirred, blinking his eyes open. The rat looked at Pretender first, Danny’s gaze following the rat’s a few moments later. “Wha-?”

“Sorry to wake you up,” Pretender told him softly, crouching down next to the hospital bed. He’d probably only been asleep a few minutes. “There’s something going on with your powers, I think, so Armsmaster’s going to come by to talk to us. You think you’re up for that?”

“Um, yeah.” Danny looked around a bit, like he was reminding himself that he was in a hospital room. “Should I put my clothes back on?”

He was in a hospital gown. Pretender had been in more than his fair share of those. He just shrugged. “If you want. I don’t think Armsmaster really cares about that kind of stuff. Capes get hurt all the time, so we’ve all seen each other dressed worse.”

Danny didn’t look thrilled, but he didn’t get up, resting his head back against the pillows. The rat crawled around the bed a bit, and Danny held up an arm for it to use as a bridge to the table next to him. Pretender tried not to frown at the sight.

“Are you controlling it?” Pretender asked, not quite sure how to phrase what he was thinking.

Danny shrugged, and the rat stood up to face Pretender. “I can if I want, and I guess I kind of am a little bit most of the time, but they can move on their own, too.”

The rat gave a little wave, and Pretender assumed that was Danny showing off his power, before it went back to its own little rat adventure.

“It was kind of cute when it first started. Back when there were just a few of them,” Danny explained a little fondly. He frowned. “There are way too many now, though.”

“How many did you make?” Pretender asked, the beginnings of a theory forming in his mind.

Danny shrugged again. “I don’t know. I started in October, and I make at least one a day, usually more, sometimes more than once. It’s too many to count, but I figured it’s got to be at least a few hundred? Three months, that’s about ninety days, say I’m making three a day on average, round up a bit…”

Pretender couldn’t really do mental math. Danny was always better at that kind of thing. He took his word for it. “Where did you keep them? In the house?”

Danny nodded. “I tried to hide them from Taylor, but it’s been getting pretty hard lately.”

“I think…” Pretender said slowly, debating whether he should be telling Danny this at all. “I think they might’ve gotten out.”

Danny looked alarmed. “What?”

Pretender shrugged. “I don’t know. Armsmaster said the Protectorate and the Wards were fighting some rat swarms around the docks and downtown.”

Danny looked troubled, and they didn’t talk about it anymore while they waited for Armsmaster to show up. Only, it wasn’t just Armsmaster. Miss Militia, Dauntless, Triumph, and Aegis were with him. The leaders and future leaders of the Brockton Bay capes. Pretender hoped that this just meant Armsmaster was taking what he was saying seriously, but he couldn’t shake the fear that this might not turn out well for Danny.

“You said the Master was here,” Armsmaster said, glancing between Danny and Pretender. It was hard to read him through his helmet, but Pretender could tell it hadn’t quite clicked yet.

Danny gave a sort of half smile and waved. The rat crawled out from under the blankets of his hospital bed and gave a little wave, too. The heroes visibly reacted, but they didn’t draw their weapons or try to attack. “That’s me, I think. I triggered a couple months ago. I’m not really sure what’s happening, but it might have something to do with me.”

Armsmaster took over, explaining a bit, with the others jumping in as needed. All over the docks and downtown, rodents were flooding the streets, these large, black, sinewy rats seemingly at the center of it. The mutant rats would cluster, merging together with other rodents to create these swarms. Given enough time, they became humanoid and incredibly difficult to fight.

Pretender didn’t miss how Danny’s fingers clutched the edges of his blanket as he listened to Armsmaster speak. He looked even more troubled than he had before.

“Those sound like my rats,” Danny told them, frowning, “but I’m not telling them to do that, and my rats have never done anything violent on their own. Something’s wrong.”

“You can’t control them?” Miss Militia asked, and it sounded like she already knew the answer.

Danny shook his head. “I can see out of their eyes, and I can only see this one right now. To- um, Pretender thinks I might have a range.”

“It’s okay if you call me Tommy,” Pretender told him, glancing at his teammates. Tommy wasn’t what he preferred to be called anymore, but he wasn’t about to tell Danny that he couldn’t call him that. “Everyone here’s met everyone else out of costume. I don’t think anyone’s identity is still a secret.”

Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Dauntless, and Triumph took their masks off, and Aegis followed after a moment. It didn’t actually change anything, but Pretender thought it might put Danny a little more at ease to see his husband’s friends rather than members of his local Protectorate branch.

“Why the…” Dauntless trailed off, gesturing around the hospital room. He was asking why Danny was here.

Pretender answered the question. “The rats appear when Danny throws up. It’s been taking a lot out of his body. The medical team’s been trying to figure out what exactly is happening to him.”

Dauntless nodded along. “You’re doing power testing?”

Danny looked at Pretender a little helplessly, and Pretender answered for him again. “Not yet. I think they’re trying to get Danny to keep some food in him a bit, and then maybe he’ll be up for power testing.”

“Keep at it,” Armsmaster ordered. “Try to understand Danny’s powers, and then we’ll see if we can use them to stop the rats. In the meantime, we’ll keep trying to destroy or contain them before they do more damage to the city.”

Pretender glanced at Danny, gauging for any kind of reaction, but nothing on his face changed. Pretender looked back at Armsmaster and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

December 15 2008

Danny felt… bad.

Not in the way he had before. Before, he’d truly felt sick. He’d been weak, sweaty, nauseous, disoriented, unfocused, and just kind of generally overstimulated.

Now? He was mostly just tired. His stomach didn’t hurt, but it felt almost unnaturally full, which was almost more unpleasant. Danny hadn’t realized he’d been eating so much less than he was supposed to until he saw how daunting the portions of food the hospital staff were bringing him.

He didn’t want to eat it, but Tommy was there, and he was worrying too much for Danny not to, even if it made him feel like he was going to throw up in a non-rat way. He didn’t know if that was even possible anymore. 

Danny had about a dozen rats in his hospital room now. This was probably the most he’d thrown up since he’d gotten his powers, but this was also probably the most he’d regularly he’d eaten, and this was the first time he didn’t have to worry about hiding it all from Taylor.

It was a little easier now. Throwing up didn’t feel good, but Danny could tell he was getting bad stuff out from inside him, and there was something nice about not having to hold it all in anymore.

Having more rats around again was getting to be a little much, though. Armsmaster had them try some power testing in the training room, but Danny had to sit down and start taking deep breaths after about ten minutes, Tommy practically clinging to his side the whole time.

“Is it hurting you when we hurt the rats?” Clockblocker asked. It was just the Wards here, plus Armsmaster, trying to see what it took to destroy the rats Danny created. They were a lot more durable than regular rats, it seemed, and they were really giving the local heroes some trouble.

So far, the power testing hasn’t been very successful.

Danny shook his head. “I can only feel what they’re feeling if I really try to. I can mostly just see out of their eyes. It’s a little too much with them all trying to do different things at the same time.”

Some of the rats put their paws over their eyes, only the one standing on the ground in front of Danny keeping its eyes open, which was cute and gave a little relief, but the root of the issue was still there.

“It might be too soon for power testing,” Gallant spoke up, putting his hands on his hips. He stared at Danny for a moment before saying, “You’re still feeling pretty… bad.”

“Gallant can read people’s emotions,” Pretender explained a little quietly, still loud enough for everyone to hear, but clearly intended for Danny.

Danny felt himself perk up at that. “What are you getting from me?”

“Um…” Gallant trailed off for a moment, but Danny didn’t hurry him. “The vibe I’ve gotten off you has just kind of been generally overwhelmed? It just kind of feels like you’ve been stressed out for awhile. I can’t really pick up on much more than that.”

“It’s likely some kind of chronic stress was the source of your trigger event,” Armsmaster spoke, and Danny dropped his gaze a bit. That sounded right. That was a little embarrassing, though. Weren’t trigger events supposed to be these big, traumatic moments? Like when Tommy thought Diamond was going to kill him? Danny hadn’t even triggered when he thought his husband had died. He triggered weeks afterward.

It was a little validating, though. He’d felt pretty awful being away from Tommy, having to lie to Taylor and everyone at the DWA, and the fact that it all manifested as a trigger event told him that what he was feeling was actually as bad as he thought it was.

He just wished his powers didn’t take so much out of him. He’d never heard of anyone who had powers like this.

“We can stop the power testing for today,” Armsmaster said, and he sounded a little disappointed. Danny tried not to feel bad that his rats weren’t easier to kill. “I called in reinforcements last night. New York capes will arrive later today, but the Vegas capes won’t be here until tomorrow. New Wave should have sent Panacea over already, though. You should head back to medical.”

Danny sensed Tommy sit a little straighter at the mention of Vegas capes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Who’s Panacea?” Danny asked as he got to his feet. “I don’t know a lot about New Wave.”

“Amy Dallon. One of the second-generation capes in New Wave,” Triumph explained. “She’s got a healing power, so she doesn’t really fight. She’s good, though.”

Healing power? That sounded intriguing. Danny kind of wanted a break after visiting the training room, but the temptation of seeing a healer was too much.

Panacea was a teenage girl, which Danny probably could have figured out given the context clues, but he hadn’t, so it was a little surprising. She looked a little older than Taylor, but not by much. Still, she had an air of seriousness about her that Danny didn’t think Taylor could manage.

“I read up on your file, so I kind of have an idea of what’s going on,” Panacea told them. Then, to Tommy, she said, “Platinum was always my favorite superhero, by the way. It’s really cool meeting you even…”

“Even if I’m not exactly Platinum?” Tommy asked, cracking a smile, and Panacea nodded, looking a little embarrassed. Tommy waved it off, though. “I appreciate the compliment, and I appreciate you helping my husband even more. How does your power work?”

Panacea explained it, but Danny didn’t really understand what she was saying. She was a biokinetic, which meant she could do all kinds of stuff to the human body, mostly healing, but other stuff too. She said her powers were pretty new, so she wasn’t sure what her limits were yet.

“Can I just take a look around?” Panacea asked, holding up a hand, as Danny settled back on the hospital bed. “I won’t change anything without your permission. I just want to get an idea of what I’m working with.”

Danny agreed and didn’t miss the way Panacea frowned immediately upon touching him. She didn’t say anything, but Tommy couldn’t ignore it and asked, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“It’s… I was just surprised by how little body fat he has. It’s not, like… I don’t know. My powers don’t just make stuff appear, so if I was going to use my powers on him, I’d probably have to use outside material, like fish or something, which is safer, but it’s a little gross.”

That did sound gross, but Danny was also pretty used to throwing up rats multiple times a day, so it didn’t sound that gross.

Panacea talked with some of the doctors, and Danny tried not to listen, waiting until they were done before hearing the verdict.

“Your powers aren’t working the way they’re supposed to,” Panacea told him once everyone was done conversing. “Have you heard of the Manton Effect?”

“Uh…” He was pretty sure he had? “That means that… um…”

“Powers affect either organic material or everything else,” Tommy interjected, “but the part that’s probably most relevant here is that the Manton Effect theory says that parahumans have built-in limitations. One of them is that we can’t use our powers to harm ourselves, yeah?”

“Right,” Panacea confirmed with a nod. “Your body’s taking the food you’re eating to make material you use for the rats, but it is trying to leave enough for you to function, just not necessarily maintain a healthy body weight. The main thing is that I don’t think that you’re supposed to be throwing up the material. It’s not being made in your stomach.”

“Where’s it being made then?” Danny asked, trying to look inward to get a feel for where it might be, but it wasn’t like he could feel his own organs, so the effort really didn’t help.

“Just kind of… around,” Panacea said, and that wasn’t very helpful.

“There’s research that says having ongoing mental health issues can negatively affect power manifestation,” one of the doctors added. “The fact that you were repressing your powers right off the bat probably caused your body to try forcing everything on the inside out, and making you vomit was the easiest way it could do it.”

That made sense in an abstract sort of way. Danny had studied a little psychology in college, but this was pretty different than the kinds of things they talked about in class. The logic was there, though. Danny had been hiding everything with Tommy from the outside world, keeping everything he knew and everything he was feeling all inside, so when he got powers that involved something on the inside coming out, and he repressed it, it forced itself out, to his body’s detriment. 

“Can you do anything about it?” Danny asked Panacea once he’d gotten a moment to process it.

Panacea shrugged. “Like I said, I’d need some outside material. Really the only thing that you need is to regain some weight and figure out how to keep that weight. I could probably modify some stuff for you, but it wouldn’t really fix the problem. I think you should heal a bit on your own first. If you wanted, I could give you an extra organ to store the rat material, or make your body prefer to send it down instead of up, but I don’t think either of those things would actually help you.”

Yeah, no. Danny didn’t like vomiting rats, but shitting rats sounded a lot worse. “I don’t think I want anything in my body changing unless it has to. But thank you.”

Panacea murmured back politely, and soon, she and the doctors were gone, leaving Danny and Tommy alone in the hospital room.

Tommy slid into the hospital bed next to Danny, squishing Danny and half hanging off himself, but Danny wasn’t about to complain, especially when Tommy put his arm around him. He’d done that before he’d gotten trapped in Annette’s body, but couldn’t really do that since then. Danny didn’t really mind, but it was nice to get held.

“How are you feeling after all that?” Tommy asked, gently putting Danny’s head on his chest. “I know she didn’t really fix you, but…”

Danny wanted to shrug, but he thought one of them might fall off the bed if he moved too much. These things were not meant for two people.

“We know more now,” Danny said, “and that’s better than nothing. I guess I’ve just got to work on myself and do more power testing, I guess.”

Tommy’s grip on him tightened a bit. “You’re going to do great, babe. And I’ll be there with you, whatever you need. Everyone will.”

Danny knew he was trying to be encouraging, but Danny wasn’t feeling very hopeful. Still, Danny didn’t feel worse. It was just kind of nice to lie there with his husband and know he wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Text

December 16 2008

Pretender was glad he was being included in the debrief for the out-of-town capes, but Danny had been throwing up a lot that morning, and there were way too many rats in the hospital room to be comfortable for him, so Pretender hadn’t really wanted to leave him. He had said he was going to go to the meeting, though, so he suited up, got to the conference room early, and tried to get his racing thoughts under control while they waited for everyone to show up.

“Hey there, handsome.” A deep, almost silky voice snapped Pretender out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see a familiar, dark-skinned man leaning over the back of the chair beside him to look down at him. “The name’s Satyrical. I’m looking forward to working together.”

Normally, Pretender, or rather, Platinum, would match that energy with some banter, but he really wasn’t feeling it today. “Satyr, I genuinely can’t tell what you’re trying to do right now. Are you flirting or are you actually saying hi?”

“Satyr already?” Satyr grinned a bit behind his mask at that. “Someone got comfortable real fast. You a fan?”

Did he not…? Pretender had his own costume now, so it was possible Satyr just didn’t recognize him, but he thought his old friend would have been debriefed. “Satyr, we worked together for years.”

“Oh shit.” Satyr straightened, his voice losing that deep, playful quality to it. “Don’t tell me. Shit, I am so sorry. I don’t recognize you at all.”

Pretender was still feeling pretty lousy, but watching Satyr flounder sparked something in him, and he knew he had to have some fun. Pretender stood up, pulling up the bottom of his mask so Satyr could see his wide grin, and put a hand on his hip, using the other to reach out toward Satyr. It’d been years since he performed, but he could still hear the announcer’s voice echoing in his mind. Adding a little more inflection to his voice, he said, “We all know you size queens were hoping for a bull, but this goat ain’t half bad.”

Satyr grinned wildly, eyes going wide, and posed beside him, one hand on his chest as the other reached out to just barely touch Pretender’s fingertips. Facing the room, he said, “She’s all fish, but she’s so rock solid you can’t even smell it on her.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Floret said somewhere behind them. Pretender hadn’t even noticed she was there. 

“Give it up for Vegas’s bio king and queen, Satyrical and Platinum!”

Everyone was looking at him and Satyr like they were insane, but Pretender didn’t even care. Satyr threw his head back and laughed boisterously. He put an arm around Pretender, half a hug and half a headlock, and somehow grinned even wider. “Annie, my girl! I didn’t recognize you. Did you transition?”

“Um…” How was he supposed to explain this? Pretender had never really told Satyr directly, but he’d always sort of assumed he knew. That was very clearly not the case, though. “I died and went back to my original body?”

“What?”

“Platinum’s body was possessed by a man. Pretender,” Floret said plainly. She raised a brow in Satyr’s direction. “Did you really not know?”

“No! Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I thought you knew,” Pretender stressed. “Why would a cis straight woman be a drag performer?”

“I thought you were an ally!”

“Then why would my husband be part of the drag union?”

“I thought he was an ally!” Satyr said again, a little defensively. He was still grinning, though. He patted Pretender’s shoulder and shook his head. “This is great, though. We should go out later! Brockton Bay’s got some good casinos, right?”

That did sound fun, but fun was about the last thing on Pretender’s mind. “You’re here because my husband is vomiting rats, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Satyr sobered up a bit. “I’m sorry to hear about that, by the way.”

“What the hell just happened?” Clockblocker hissed unquietly to Gallant.

Triumph was the one who answered. “I’ve heard the Vegas team operates a little different than other Protectorate branches.”

Armsmaster seemed unfazed, and Pretender didn’t know if that was surprising or not. To Pretender, he said, “I requested for Satyrical to transfer to Brockton Bay, at least for a bit, after your old body died. I thought maybe you could possess one of his clones, but the PRT kept denying my requests until there was an actual threat.”

That was actually really thoughtful. Why hadn’t Armsmaster said anything? Pretender still had Satyr’s number, even if they didn’t really talk anymore. He could have just asked if he’d had the thought to do so.

“Wait, so what exactly happened with Platinum?” Satyr asked, looking around, and Pretender was reminded he really, truly didn’t know. He was taking it all pretty well, all things considered, but the two New York Protectorate members looked utterly confused.

Pretender decided to just explain it all for their sakes. “So, Platinum, right? Originally Annette Hebert, aka Diamond, a lieutenant in Lustrum’s gang. Breaker/Changer absorption powers. She was part of the androcide, tried to kill me. We thought her absorbtion powers activated, and she absorbed my soul, and I was left piloting her body for the next twenty years, but it turns out I just had a trigger event, and we didn’t know until I accidentally killed her body a few months ago, and I got free.”

“He has the power to possess people,” Armsmaster explained, “hence the name Pretender.”

“Right. So, um, I never told my daughter, and my husband and I thought we should wait to tell her in case we could clone Annette’s body for me to possess again, or something. Which I know is kind of fucked up, but telling her the truth is also pretty fucked up, and we’re just trying to figure it out,” Pretender explained, trying not to look at anyone in particular when he said that last part. “But, um, hiding everything from our daughter was pretty hard on my husband, and he ended up triggering. He can vomit these mutant rats, and they got out from under his control and are terrorizing the city now.”

“Is that all?” Ursa Aurora drawled after a moment. She leaned back in her chair a bit. “So what’s the plan?”

Armsmaster laid it out, but Pretender already knew most of it. “The medical staff and some out-of-town Thinkers were going to keep trying to understand what’s going on with Hebert’s powers. Once he’s ready to hit the field, we can see if he can regain control of the rats. In the meantime, we’re on damage control. Everyone pair up, and if you figure out how to destroy the core rats Hebert created, share what you learn with the rest of the team.”

“Danny doesn’t really ring as the field type to me,” Floret said, the comment more directed at Pretender than anyone else. “How long you think he’s going to be?”

“It’s more of a physical thing than a mental thing,” Pretender explained, not really wanting to tell all these people Danny’s business, but knowing it was important information to have. “His powers are kind of interacting with the Manton Effect weird. He was kind of out of it the last time I saw him. He’s going to need to get a better grip on his powers before leaving the medical wing, let alone going on the field.”

“We have our best people on it. We just have to buy some time,” Armsmaster told the team. “Everyone pair up, and we’ll focus on managing the swarms.”

“The Vermillion Ladies!” Clockblocker said, and Armsmaster just sighed. Pretender thought it wasn’t bad. It was better than just saying the rat swarms.

Satyr was already the closest person to Pretender, but he still turned to him right when Armsmaster released them. “You want to see if you can possess one of my clones now?”

“Um, sure.” Pretender’s powers weren’t really made for combat. If he could borrow Satyr’s clones’ strength, maybe he’d be a little more useful. 

Most of the capes in the conference room started clearing out, but a few lingered to watch Satyr slough off part of him, letting it grow into a copy of himself in just a few minutes. The Satyr clone grinned and posed a bit before his surface twisted, morphing into a replica of Annette Hebert. She looked right at Pretender and said, “Come on, give it a try.”

Pretender focused his powers. He’d practiced it quite a bit these past few months, mostly with the Wards, and he was pretty good at identifying the core in other people that his power latched onto. He found it on the Satyr clone easy enough, but he couldn’t find the will to pull himself into it. It felt like there was a barrier there, but it wasn’t a physical one.

“Can you try making it look like something else?” Pretender asked Satyr, and the clone transformed into Platinum. Pretender shook his head. “Just make it look like yourself. Or me.”

Satyr didn’t question him, and the clone transformed into Pretender, costume and all. Pretender focused on the clone, pinpointing its core, and pulled himself into it. The world shifted in his vision, and Pretender knew it’d worked.

“Hey!” Satyr cheered, clapping his shoulder again excitedly. “Try shapeshifting now. I bet its not too different than using Platinum’s powers, yeah? You know, when you’d make her hands weapons?”

It was a pretty good comparison to the feeling. Pretender felt his body changing, trying to remember what Platinum’s crystalline form meant. His old costume was lined with little bits of the source material, giving him something to use his powers on, but he didn’t need that here. He could just imagine it, focus, and then his skin was changing. Just a few seconds, and Pretneder’s hands were that blueish green and his forearms were protected by blocky crystal armor.

“You missed…” Satyr trailed off, gesturing to his face and then his chest. Pretender looked down, seeing that his chest was, in fact, flat, and then ran his fingers over his face. It felt more like his than Annette’s.

Pretender tried to focus on what Annette’s face looked like. He had just seen it a moment ago, so he didn’t think it would be that hard, but he hit that barrier again, and Pretender knew it wasn’t Satyr’s power that was stopping him.

“I don’t think I can be a woman again,” Pretender said, looking in Satyr’s direction, but not quite meeting his eyes. “I just… can’t.”

“That’s fine,” Satyr said without missing a beat, and Pretender wondered why he ever hid his true identity from this man. He should have known a gay shapeshifter drag performer wouldn’t even flinch at the idea of a man in a woman’s body. “You can still kick rat ass like this, right?”

Pretender laughed a bit at that. Yes, he could still kick rat ass like this. Maybe now he could start helping his team in fights again.

December 17, 2008

Danny was tired.

His stomach hurt, and he was thirsty, and his throat was sore from throwing up, and he just wanted to sleep, but there were about thirty of his rats crawling around his hospital room, their vision filling his own, keeping him up.

It wasn’t as bad as it once was. It really wasn’t. It was one of those things that you didn’t realize was as bad as it was until you were free from it, and then it got really hard to go back.

Before, there were hundreds of rats. Hundreds of eyes had filled his mind. Even if he had some in the walls or underground where they couldn’t see anything, they were still there. This was nothing compared to that. It was still a little overwhelming.

The rats saw two people enter the room, one covered in a familiar crystalline sheen. The crystal one morphed their hand into a long, sharp spike and reached down, gently plunging it into the back of a rat. They wiggled it softly, breaking up the tendrils that made up the rat until the rat’s sight disappeared from Danny’s mind.

The figure repeated the process a good number of times before Danny mentally registered what was going on. “Tommy?”

He didn’t look like Tommy. He was the wrong color, for one, an unnatural blue instead of pale skin. But his face was the right shape, and everything about him screamed familiar.

Danny watched with his own eyes as Pretender jumped out of Platinum’s body, and he remembered that Platinum was dead. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” Tommy asked, slipping his visor and mask off. Danny relaxed a little at the sight of his face. “You’re looking better.”

“I still feel pretty crummy,” Danny admitted, knowing better than to lie, “but whatever you did with the rats just now helped a little bit.”

Tommy nodded. “Satyr thought of it when we were swapping the body around yesterday. I was telling him now that black stuff turns into the rats, so he was thinking the rats might disperse if you separate those stringy bits enough. It doesn’t always work, but it’s the best thing we’ve got so far.”

“Hey, Danny boy,” Satyr greeted and slipped his own mask off as well. It’d been… What? Ten years since he’d seen him? Eleven? Maybe less, actually. He was pretty sure Satyr and Tommy had visited each other since they moved out of Vegas, but it was still awhile since Danny had seen him.

He looked kind of the same, not like Danny or Tommy. Danny had gotten thinner, of course, and he’d started losing some hair. Tommy had lost all of his hair when he was inside Platinum, and gotten a good amount paler, too, but he seemed to have gained some muscle from the exercise he got in Annette’s body. Satyr though? He aged well. He didn’t wear a shirt when he was in costume, not normally at least, so Danny would really see it all. Skin still a healthy, tanned brown, in just as good shape as any other active cape… Wait, he was a shapeshifter, right? Maybe he hadn’t aged well, and he was just putting on a facade.

Nah. Danny knew Satyr. This was definitely his real body.

“Hi, Mateo,” Danny greeted, hearing how tired his voice was. “Is that one of your clones?”

“Mhm,” Satyr responded. “Armsmaster wanted to see if Pretender could possess them.”

“We were kind of hoping I could use them to be Annette again,” Tommy told Danny a little quietly. He continued before Danny could get his hopes up. “I don’t know if I can. I mean, I can possess them, but I just can’t do it when they look like Annette or Platinum. I just can’t go back. I’m sorry.”

Danny flailed a bit for his hand, taking it in his own. “You don’t have to be sorry. You know I like you better as you.”

Tommy made a little noise. “I know. I meant more for Taylor’s sake. She should have her mom back.”

Right. Taylor. Danny felt a stab of guilt for forgetting about her. He’d thought about her a few times since coming here, but the rats and Tommy had consumed most of his thoughts. What kind of father was he?

“Armsmaster had put in a transfer request for me. I could probably get the PRT to approve it now that I’m actually here,” Satyr told them. He rolled his shoulders a bit. “I like Vegas, but I could use the change of scenery. Maybe Pretender’ll work through his hang-ups about Annette, maybe we’ll figure something else out. Either way, I don’t mind hanging around to give you bodies to possess. At the very least, Platinum or some masc version of her can make a reappearance.” 

“It is nice being back out on the field,” Tommy admitted, then looked back at Danny. “Yesterday, Armsmaster was saying he’s hoping to get you out there soon to try to get control of the rats again. No pressure, but he wants a report back on how you’re feeling, where you’re at.”

“I don’t think I’ve really made any progress,” Danny told him honestly. He’d been half-unconscious for most of the day prior, this being his only respite in awhile. “I mean, I’ll try, but don’t capes get a lot of training before they get sent out on the field? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Why doesn’t Pretender just hijack your body?” Satyr asked, and Tommy and Danny turned to look at him. Satyr raised a brow. “You never thought about that? That’s, like, the first thing I would’ve tried if I was in your guys’ shoes. For fun, I mean, but also because Pretender has experience using other people’s powers. He could probably get a sense of what’s going on with you in a way you can’t, Danny.”

Tommy palmed his face and sighed. Danny had to be a little amused by that. Having Tommy possess him didn’t feel like something Danny would’ve thought of himself, but it probably was something someone in the Brockton Bay Protectorate or PRT should have thought of.

“He’s right,” Tommy said, meeting Danny’s eyes. “You want to try it?”

Danny nodded. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Tommy nodded, and then he wasn’t standing in front of him anymore, and Danny could feel a presence inside him.

It was kind of weird. It felt like Tommy, even though Danny had never felt Tommy in an abstract way like this. Danny could still see out of his eyes, still hear out of his ears, and still feel with his hands, but there were little things that told him that he wasn’t the one in control. His body was breathing and looking around, and Danny wasn’t the one telling it to do that.

The people Pretender possessed were still aware of what was happening to their body, Danny realized. Did that mean Annette had been watching them all those years? Had she seen- Well, she must’ve seen everything. Danny and Tommy’s marriage, Tommy’s quiet hatred for her body, Taylor growing up, the Hebert home, Tommy and Danny’s careers… Their whole life.

Danny felt calm as Tommy experimented with disconnecting his mind from the various rats around the room, little parts of his mind’s enhanced vision going dark. Had Annette been calm? Danny trusted Tommy more than enough to completely surrender his body to him like this. Annette surely hadn’t. Tommy hadn’t even been a stranger. He’d been someone she was trying to kill, and then he’d taken her life.

Had she hated them? Danny had to wonder. He researched Lustrum’s gang once enough time had passed for him to feel okay doing so. Annette had been thoroughly involved. She was a radical feminist and deeply loyal to Lustrum to the point that she was willing to kill dozens of people in the name of eradicating men. 

Did she hate Danny and Tommy’s lifestyle? Two men together, even if one of them had ended up in a woman’s body. Danny was still gay, had always felt that way, even though everyone on the outside was telling him he wasn’t because he had a wife. It’d worn on him enough that Danny had given up on trying after college, but it was still a truth he knew about himself. Tommy and he supposed Annette were the only people who knew that about him. Did she feel any sympathy for them? Did she know that Tommy didn’t want her body? Did she understand that his possession of her was the worst thing that happened to him?

Danny could feel Tommy toying with his power. Something deep inside him, something physical, was being touched, and Danny didn’t know how he was doing it. He wondered if Annette had panicked when she found herself watching someone else using her body, if she’d been panicking the whole time. Danny could see how this could be scary, and he understood what was happening. Tommy and Annette hadn’t, not at first. They’d just been thrown into this situation, and they lived it for twenty years.

Danny hoped she accepted it. Danny still had pretty mixed feelings about Annette, given that she tried to kill him and Tommy and everything, but Danny had to imagine she’d grown fond of them in some way, or fond of Taylor at the very least. She was the mother of his child, in a way that Danny didn’t love but still knew was true. Danny hoped she hadn’t been suffering the whole time Tommy was in control of her body.

She probably got used to it, Danny thought as Tommy piloted Danny’s body out of the bed to try eating. Feeling his body’s sensations like this was a little bizarre, but it wasn’t strictly bad. Danny imagined it got better with time, and Annette had plenty of that with Tommy. Maybe she’d figured out how to block it out, or learned to enjoy just turning her mind off and letting Tommy do his thing.

It was kind of nice having someone else eat for him. It wasn’t hard for Danny to do, perse, but he didn’t miss how much easier it was for Tommy to do this. No fear every time he swallowed, no gagging, no stopping to wonder if he’d been eating too much. Sort of like how it’d been before.

Tommy talked to Satyr a bit, and the conversation felt a little distant. Danny could focus if he wanted to and listen in, but it really did feel like he was in the back seat now. Was he fading? Or was he just zoning out? Was Tommy doing something?

After a bit, Danny’s body looked down, and Danny saw something black dancing on his fingertips. The material the rats were made of! Tommy had figured out how to expel it in some way other than vomiting! Danny tried to concentrate on what his body was feeling, what Tommy was doing to make this happen, but Tommy was retracting the black tendrils before he could, and then Tommy was leaving his body.

Danny threw up almost immediately, the power rushing up from where Tommy had been toying with it in his hands, and a big stream of black spewing from his mouth.

“Danny!” Tommy cried, helping Danny lean forward. He was throwing up onto his own lap, the black sinews splattering across the white sheets of his hospital bed, but Danny hardly noticed. He felt his stomach heave, and he started coughing the moment his body was done expelling the black gunk from his body. It wasn’t the worst vomiting session he’d had, but it’d gone on a little longer than a single spew normally did, and there was a lot more of it than Danny expected.

“That could probably have some decent combat applications,” Satyr commented as the black mess began weaving itself into four new rats. Danny tried to recall what Pretender had done to repress their visual input. To his surprise, after a couple of tries, it worked. What a relief that was, even if it didn’t help with the more physical symptoms.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy babbled, helping Danny settle back into his bed. “I thought I’d- I don’t know. Figured it out?”

Danny shook his head. “I think you did. I felt fine when you were controlling it. My body just lost that control when you left, I think, and I threw up.”

“We can work with that, probably,” Satyr said. He glanced at Tommy, then back at Danny. “Pretender helps Danny keep it down while Danny’s trying to get back to eating right, Danny works on learning how to use Pretender’s techniques himself. Hopefully you get it down in a few days, and we hunt down the rest of those rats, yeah?”

Danny nodded, a swell of hope flashing in his chest for the first time in awhile. The idea of going out and fighting still felt pretty distant, but the idea of eating without throwing up was sounding a lot more achievable.

December 18, 2008

Danny didn’t think he was ready to be up and about, but he still took the opportunity to get out of the hospital room when Tommy told him Miss Militia had some paperwork she needed to go over with him. As much as Danny loved being around his husband, he knew he should probably be interacting with some other people, and Tommy probably wanted to catch up with his old Vegas teammates. So, Danny pocketed a couple of rats and ventured from the medical wing to the more residential area.

The Protectorate members didn’t live here. They all had their own homes, and the Protectorate base had apartments for them there. Danny wasn’t sure exactly what this place was supposed to be, but it was a lot more homey than a hospital bed or a conference room, so Danny didn’t question it too much.

Miss Miltia already had some papers spread out and a tablet set up when Danny arrived. She smiled when she saw him, face not obstructed by her bandana like it normally was when she was in costume. “Hi, Danny.”

“Hi, Hannah,” Danny greeted, feeling a little awkward as he joined her at the table. He didn’t think he’d ever been around her without Tommy around. “What’s this about? Tommy said you had some things to go over with me, but he didn’t really say what.”

“Stuff from Image. Kind of informal right now, but you should probably have some kind of costume when you go out, so Armsmaster wanted Image to get a head start,” Miss Militia explained, sliding some papers in Danny’s direction, and he realized there were some sketches on them. “You could definitely go with something generic if you think you’re never going to go out on the field again, but we were kind of hoping…”

Miss Militia trailed off, but Dany understood what she meant. “I’ve been thinking about it a little. I don’t want to leave the DWA, and I still have Taylor to think about, so I’m not sure if I want to be someone like you or Armsmaster, but Dauntless has a family, and he still manages it…”

She nodded along. “Of course. We’re not expecting you to become a full-time superhero, but powers demand to be used, and there aren’t any Masters in Brockton Bay. The swarms have been tearing up the ABB and the Merchants, and they got into Empire territory today, so I think you have some real potential to make a difference.”

His rats were fighting gangs? Or, not necessarily fighting them, but causing them problems. Danny had no idea, which felt a little odd. He was used to knowing what his rats were doing.

“I think I’d like a costume,” Danny told her, “but I’m not really picky. I trust whatever Image comes up with.”

Miss Militia shook her head. “You’re going to want to weigh in on this, especially since you’re probably going to have a rat theme. You ever heard of Mouse Protector?”

“No. Is that another cape?”

Miss Militia nodded. “One of my old teammates from my Wards days. We are not making you another Mouse Protector.”

“Okay…” Danny didn’t know what that meant, but Miss Militia seemed pretty adamant, so he went with it.

There were actually a lot of things to consider that Danny hadn’t thought about. Theme, for one. Color scheme. What weapon he’d use, if he had one at all, and how it would play into the overall look. What his target demographic for picking up fans would be. What kind of persona he would have in costume. What kind of messages he wanted to communicate with his hero persona. How all that would affect merch and toy sales.

“I’ve got two things on my mind right now,” Miss Militia told him, holding up two fingers. “First, you’re probably going to be working with Pretender a lot, and he’s already got a costume, even if the public hasn’t seen it yet, so you don’t want your colors to clash. Second, it’s going to be really hard to make a good-looking rat mask. You might have to lean into the edginess, which might make you look a little more like a villain, but I think it would be worth it. The alternative would be going cutesy, and I don’t think anyone wants that.”

Danny had to agree. He leafed through the sketches Image had provided. There were a few literal rat heads that Danny didn’t think looked very good as drawings and didn’t think would look good as real masks. There were a few with more comical, rounded mouse ears, which Danny didn’t think were going to work either. Maybe he’d enjoy being a more child-friendly hero, framing his rats more as pets than little monsters who were destroying his life, but Danny didn’t think that he really had it in him to commit to all that.

There were a few examples that looked put together already. The legend of the Pied Piper, the Rat King from the Nutcracker, and a rat exterminator were all themes he could draw on, and Danny kind of liked the more cohesive look, but he didn’t think he’d be able to play a character. No, they needed to find something that was more Danny Hebert.

“I don’t think I can do the skin-tight body suit,” Danny told Miss Militia after awhile. He wasn’t really self-conscious about his body, but… “Image probably wants me to look pretty consistent, and my powers affect my weight. The skinny rat man aesthetic makes sense, but I’m trying to gain weight.”

Miss Militia nodded along. “A cloak, maybe? It’ll hide a lot of your form, and you could probably hide some rats in there.”

Danny grabbed one of his rats and pulled it out of his jacket. Miss Militia looked a little startled, but didn’t comment. “I didn’t really think about that. I haven’t really thought about fighting that much. I assumed these guys would be doing most of the work, but I could probably use some armor or something.”

“Something light. Easy to move in. Could hide it under a cloak, if you decide to go with that,” Miss Militia said and wrote something down. “Have you thought about weapons? A lot of the pictures Image went over have claws, which might be more aesthetic than useful. Most of the actual weapons are part of a theme, though.”

The Rat King’s scepter with a hidden taser, a staff modeled to look like the Pied Piper’s flute, electrified mouse traps… Some of them were pretty weird.

“The rat tail rope might look good with a cloak,” Danny said after a bit. “It’s kind of creepy, but I don’t think there’s any way to make it not creepy.”

“Mhm. The mask.”

“The mask,” Danny agreed. “We might just have to trust Image on that one.”

“Maybe,” Miss Militia agreed. “Satyrical pulls off the animal head, but I can’t think of anyone else who does. It might depend on what kind of audience they’re curating your costume for.”

Danny had to imagine the only people who were going to be fans of his were going to be preteen boys who thought rats were cool because they were gross. But when he finally got to put on the first version of his costume a few days later, Danny could see imagine someone like Taylor or maybe some of the guys at the docks having an action figure of him. It actually looked pretty good.

“You ready to go, Rat Race?” Armsmaster asked, the whole team suited up and ready to pull out of the PRT garage. It was a little surreal to be standing among so many capes, but at least that feeling was drowning out Danny’s nerves.

Danny adjusted his mask, a rat skull with big, dark eye sockets, and nodded. “Let’s save the city.”

Chapter Text

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Villains > Lustrum’s Gang > Diamond

Name: Diamond

Civilian name: Annette Rose

Affiliation: Lustrum’s Gang (1987-1989)

Status: Decreased [Mentally: 1989. Physically: 2008]

Power classification: Breaker 5, Brute 3, Changer 2

Power details: Diamond can activate a Breaker state via contact with solid materials by “absorbing” the material’s properties, duplicating them, and transforming her body into that material. In this state, Diamond is much stronger and more durable and also has minor changer abilities that allow her to shift her hands into basic weapons, typically sharpening her hands into blades. Her typical Breaker state is a crystalline alloy.

Other: Diamond was a lieutenant for parahuman villain Lustrum during her androcide in Brockton Bay. Diamond has the ability to absorb living beings’ consciousness, as observed when college student Thomas Creel gained control of her body when Diamond made contact with him. [Update: 2008] The theory that Diamond had the power to absorb living being consciousness has been proven to be miscrediting Diamond with Creel’s parahuman abilities.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Heroes > Protectorate > Platinum

Name: Platinum

Civilian name: Annette Hebert

Affiliation: Las Vegas Protectorate (1991-1998), Brockton Bay Protectorate (1998-2008)

Status: Deceased (September 2008)/Inactive

Power classification: Breaker 5, Brute 4, Blaster 3, Changer 3 

Power details: Platinum has Diamond’s absorption and Breaker abilities. Like Diamond, her typical Breaker state is a crystalline alloy. Through power experimentation, she has expanded on her Changer abilities, allowing her to transform her hands into more complex tools (maces, lockpicks, chains, etc) and make minor changes to the rest of her body (modifying facial features, changing the size of her body, etc). She can also use the absorption ability to absorb, store, and discharge energy, typically electricity.

Other: Diamond was rebranded as Platinum upon joining the Protectorate. She started her Protectorate career on the Vegas Light team and became a successful “bio queen” to support Vegas Dark’s intelligence network. Satyrical took over her portion of the intelligence network when she was on maternity leave, but they continued to work together closely after Platinum’s return, both becoming heavily involved in Vegas Light and Vegas Dark. She transferred to the Brockton Bay Protectorate in 1998 and was killed in a civilian car accident in 2008. 

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Heroes > Protectorate > Pretender

Name: Pretender

Civilian name: Thomas “Tommy Hebert” Creel

Affiliation: Las Vegas Protectorate (1991-1998), Brockton Bay Protectorate (1998-Present)

Status: Active

Power classification: Master 8 [Previously Master 0, updated September 2008], Stranger 1, Thinker 1

Power details: Pretender has the ability to enter others’ bodies, his own body getting “stored” inside of his host while he is using it. While inside a host, Pretender can use the host’s parahuman abilities, and his own body remains protected, “ejecting” if too much harm comes to the host. Pretender can sense potential hosts around him. He does not need line of sight to master someone’s body, but his range is limited roughly to what he would be able to see unobstructed.

Other: Creel was previously listed as a Master 0 when in possession of Platinum’s body, having believed that he was mastering her due to Diamond’s powers. It is now known that he triggered during his encounter with Diamond. While possessing a body protects his true form, long-term possession still has an effect on his own body, aging, gaining muscle, losing hair, and growing much paler while possessing Annette’s body. The public is unaware of his true power and is told he is a Stranger with an enhancement power, which is true to some degree, but requires more power testing.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Heroes > Protectorate > Rat Race

Name: Rat Race

Civilian name: Daniel “Danny” Hebert

Affiliation: Brockton Bay Protectorate (2008-Present), Brockton Bay Dockworkers’ Association (DWA) (1998-Present), Vegas Drag Union (1991-1998)

Status: Active, Part-Time

Power classification: Master 7, Thinker 2

Power details: Hebert vomits most of what he eats into living, black tendrils. These tendrils can twist together to form durable, highly intelligent rats that he has direct, fine control over. He can access these rats’ senses, but can be easily overwhelmed if there are too many rats under his control. Hebert can also control all other types of rodents, but lacks fine control over them, and most easily controls them in swarms. He can use the rats he creates as nodes to gain finer control over the general rodent population. His rats will begin acting on their own when outside of his range or when they are physically away from him for too long, acting independently and creating humanoid swarms.

Other: Hebert is a powerful parahuman, but is very limited by his body’s need to create rats, making him physically weak and overwhelming his mind. The PRT is researching options to lessen the negative side effects of his powers. Hebert is a part-time Protectorate member, prioritizing his daughter and his work with the DWA.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Rogues > Villains > Vermillion

Name: Mutant Rat Swarm [aka Vermillion, the Vermillion Swarm, and the Vermillion Ladies]

Civilian name: N/A

Affiliation: Daniel “Danny” Hebert

Status: Semi-Active

Power classification: Master 4, Breaker 3, Changer 2

Power details: Vermillion is what Parahumans Online (PHO) calls the humanoid swarms that Rat Race’s mutant rats create when he loses control of them. Each of these rats has a range of about two city blocks, but they can use other rats to increase their range. Rodents within this range are under the rats’ control, and they will cluster into humanoid swarms that resemble Platinum. The conditions in which the rats begin acting independently are somewhat unclear, Rat Race’s range and the amount of time the mutant rats spend away from him both being factors.

Other: The mutant rats appear to be both a hive mind and capable of having individual personalities and goals. It is likely they are a collective with a handful of distinct personalities among them that can easily shift between individual bodies. The longer they are away from Rat Race, the more intelligent and autonomous they get. Upon further study, the rats don’t appear to be malicious, but they will attack people, especially when they are away from Rat Race for longer periods of time.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Las Vegas > Heroes > Protectorate > Satyrical

Name: Satyrical [aka Satyr]

Civilian name: Mateo Jones

Affiliation: Las Vegas Protectorate (1995-Present), Brockton Bay Protectorate (2008-Present)

Status: Active

Power classification: Master 5, Changer 4, Stranger 3

Power details: Satyrical has shapeshifting abilities that allow him to take another person’s appearance. He can also clone himself through an “oozing process” where he creates and sloughs off polyps that grow into full humans. These clones can shapeshift and make themselves stronger. Satyrical can control them directly at a short range or have them act autonomously. If he is the one to dismiss them, Satyrical can absorb the clones’ memories, but the memories are lost if the clones are killed.

Other: Satyrical is a member of Vegas Dark, using his clones to infiltrate the local gangs. He occasionally performed alongside Platinum as a drag king while she was active in Vegas. He was brought to Brockton Bay to test how Pretender’s powers interacted with his clones. Satyr’s shapeshifting power is unknown to the public.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Heroes > Protectorate > Geode

Name: Geode

Civilian name: Mateo Jones, Thomas “Tommy Hebert” Creel

Affiliation: Brockton Bay Protectorate (2008-Present)

Status: Active

Power classification: Brute 3, Changer 1

Power details: Geode is a Satyrical clone often piloted by Pretender and modified to look like Platinum. Without Pretender piloting the body, it is stronger and more durable than a typical human, can make minor changes to its appearance, and can shift its hands into weapons. While Pretender is piloting the body, it can mimic Platinum’s matter absorption ability, but not her energy absorption ability [Further study needed]. Overall, Geode is weaker than both Platinum and Diamond.

Other: Geode exists to disguise any link between Annette Hebert, Daniel Hebert, Vermillion, and Rat Race. Platinum was rebranded at Pretender’s insistence and is known to the public as a transgender superhero.

PRT Files > Parahuman Groups > Brockton Bay > Villains > Undersiders > Skitter

Name: Skitter

Civilian name: Taylor Hebert

Affiliation: Undersiders (2011-Present)

Status: Active

Power classification: Breaker 4, Master 3, Thinker 1

Power details: Skitter can control bugs, insects, and spiders as a swarm and can assume finer control with concentration. She can break her body down into a Breaker state made of duplicates of bugs in the surrounding area and can exercise control over what types of bugs make up her new body with concentration. In this Breaker state, she still has a “core” self where her mind and senses are concentrated. If the core is harmed, Taylor loses control of the swarm and must refocus on rebuilding her body. What this core looks like can vary depending on the situation the Breaker state is activated.

Other: Taylor is a second-generation cape. Her powers share similarities to Ratcatcher, Platinum, and Pretender. More research is needed.

Chapter Text

December 21 2008

Pretender, along with Satyr and Armsmaster, accompanied Danny as a set of PRT trucks deposited him in a central area on the border between the docks and downtown, the trucks strategically placing themselves around him in a protective semi-circle.

Danny was in his new Rat Race costume. Pretender had intentionally left himself out of Danny and Miss Militia’s meeting, as well as all of Danny’s subsequent meetings with Image, so Danny could figure out his costume for himself.

It really wasn’t what Pretender expected his husband to pick.

It wasn’t bad, though. Miss Militia had complained about Mouse Protector’s costume enough lately that Pretender half-expected Danny to show up to the pre-battle meeting in something corny. Pretender didn’t think of Danny as a particularly corny guy, but both he and Pretender were a bit on the older side for capes, and they were both parents, so Pretender knew they weren’t exactly “hip with the kids.” Danny’s costume actually looked pretty cool, though. Maybe Miss Militia had been so adamant about being involved to dissuade him from looking like her old teammate.

He had a gray body suit with armor plates hidden under a wavy green cloak that Pretender was pretty sure had multiple pockets filled with rats. The hands and feet of the costume were an unnatural sort of pink, mimicking the unsettling color of rat paws, that offset the darker colors, along with the rat tail belt wrapped around his waist.

The piece that really set the vibe was his mask, though. Or his helmet? Danny had a rat skull on his head, which Pretender really would never have imagined Danny would pick. It nearly covered his whole head, just a hint of his mouth and beard visible where the jaw didn’t meet the upper half. With the big, dark eyes and the hood of his cloak pulled over it, it looked pretty intimidating.

Maybe that was what Danny was going for. Make himself look scarier than he actually was so opponents didn’t get too close. Pretender knew Danny had been in fights before, but it was mostly just breaking up fights at work, not actually brawling with someone else. It was probably a good thing he was going for the scarier look.

The costume looked good, though, so Pretender thought the merchandise would sell well. It would be a good Halloween costume, and Image could probably make up some personalities for the rats and make a line of children’s toys. Maybe do some kind of naming contest with the local elementary schools. But more importantly, Rat Race didn’t look out of place beside Pretender in his purple and gray costume, so the two of them would probably get sold to the public as a pair, like Assault and Battery.

He should probably talk to Image too, Pretender thought idly as he fell in step beside “Platinum.” It was a Satyr clone shifted to look like the version of Platinum he’d been using in battle lately. Satyr liked the idea of the two of them making a comeback in Brockton Bay, and Pretender had to admit the idea excited him a little bit. It might be a little bit more work balancing two cape identities, but it wasn’t like he had a secret identity anymore, so Pretender thought he could manage it.

The thought made him feel a little guilty, like he was choosing his Protectorate career over Taylor, but the thought of becoming Annette again filled him with visceral revulsion. Having to pretend Taylor wasn’t his daughter when he’d picked up Danny had hurt, but trying to shapeshift the Satyr clone into Annette again hurt even more.

“Remember the plan?” Armsmaster asked once they’d gotten in position, Rat Race in the middle of the street with Satyr, Platinum, Pretender, and Armsmaster loosely surrounding him.

Danny nodded, and a rat crawled out of his cloak onto his shoulder. “I have the blinders on in my mask. Once the rats come back into my range, I’ll know they’re there and try to use my powers to break up the swarms. Regular rodents get sent back to the city, my rats go in the backs of the PRT trucks.”

It was a decent plan, not particularly brilliant, but Pretender was feeling pretty confident about it. In the rest of the city, the Protectorate, the Wards, and New Wave were seeking out the rat swarms, or the Vermillions, as Clockblocker called them. They’d try to herd them toward Danny, and Danny would try to regain control of them with his Master power. If he couldn’t… Well, that was why Armsmaster, Satyr, and Pretender were there.

Ursa Aurora was the first to radio in. “Got one of the lady swarms. Bringing her your way.”

Pretender jumped into Platinum’s body, sharpening his hands into the tools he’d been using to break up the rat’s bodies. He had faith in Danny, but he knew this wasn’t something he could risk.

“They’re back in my range,” Rat Race announced after a bit. “There’s- Geez, there’s a lot of them. Only three of my rats, I think. I’m going to try to get them to release the other rodents.”

“The lady’s becoming less… ladylike,” Ursa Aurora reported. “She’s just kind of melting into the street. The road’s full of these things, but they’re not attacking anymore.”

“Try to keep an eye on the mutant ones,” Armsmaster ordered through comms. “Rat Race, bring them here.”

Rat Race didn’t say anything, which Pretender hoped wasn’t a bad sign, and he heard an odd little hum in the distance. It was dark, but Pretender had some tech in his visor that made it a little easier to see. He saw a sea of dark pelts, the streets almost looking like they were writhing, and what felt like thousands of tiny pink paws standing out against them. The swarm was coming.

Chunks of it were breaking off the closer it got, though. Pretender saw squirrels, mice, voles, and even moles scurrying off into the city, the mass of bodies dwindling and dwindling until only three rats remained.

They were hard to see. The rats that Danny made almost looked more like a jumble of wire or a pencil-stroke drawing than actual rats. They were made of these tightly wound, wiggling strings that were so black that they made the asphalt around them look light. The little creatures were running right toward them, and Pretender prepared to stab down one of his spear hands to keep them away from Danny, but Danny was crouching down, holding his hands out like he was about to pick them up.

“Hi there,” Danny greeted, almost cooing. The rats scampered up Danny’s arms, slipping a little on the loose cloth of his cloak. The rats Danny already had on him poked their heads out from around Danny’s hood. Pretender could hear the smile in Danny’s voice as he asked them, “Did you miss me?”

Pretender glanced at Armsmaster, and their eyes met. Pretender could almost never tell what Armsmaster was thinking, but he could read his thoughts clear as day right now. Was Danny really greeting the little monsters that’d been terrorizing them for the past week like lost pets?

“I hate you little stinkers, you know that?” Danny asked one of the rats he was holding, voice still light, almost like he was teasing them. “You’re causing me so many problems. Now go get in the truck, or someone’s going to stab you. And close your eyes so you don’t distract me too much.”

Danny tossed the rats on the ground, and they scurried off, making some of the PRT agents scramble back a few steps as they jumped up into the PRT trucks.

“Care to explain?” Armsmaster asked, never one to dodge an awkward subject.

Danny shrugged. “I think I’ll get a better idea when I get more of them back. They’re not really… Ursa Aurora’s bears are constructs, right? But my rats act on their own when I’m not trying to control them, and all these ones have been on their own for the past week. They’re not really alive, but they still feel and understand things.”

More comm signals came back in, and Danny said he was feeling pretty confident about having the rest of their teammates send the swarms their way. The humanoid shapes always broke up right when they came into Danny’s range, about a mile as far as Pretender could tell, and more and more of the extra rodents making up the swarm scampered off the closer they got to Danny, until only the mutant rats remained. Pretender was expecting to have to kill some of them, but the rats always calmed down when they saw Danny again, hopping into the PRT vans without complaint.

“They’re kind of cute,” Vista commented once the team rendezvoused, the scouts unable to find any more swarms for the time being. Pretender didn’t think it was all of the, but it was enough for tonight. Vista had one of the rats in her hands, tickling its belly. The rat seemed to enjoy it, and Pretender wondered if Danny was making it do that.

“They’re… happy?” Gallant said, and it sounded more like a question than a statement. “They’re harder to read than people, but I’m pretty certain they’re feeling something positive. They were always… Well, they were hostile before, obviously, and there was something else I could really get. They’re all pretty relaxed now, though.”

“Maybe they just didn’t like being separated from their Master,” Assault guessed, and the rest of the assembled capes murmured noises of agreement. “I mean, this all started when Pretender took Rat Race to the base, right?”

“I can’t be around them all the time. I’m getting better at blocking them out, but there’s still just way too many of them,” Danny said, and he had about a dozen more rats climbing on him than the last time Pretender had looked in his direction. He couldn’t understand how Danny could just be comfortable with that. These were the things he threw up, the things causing his body to get so weak and his mind to get so overtaxed. Pretender thought they were kind of neat, but he also kind of hated them. He thought Danny would hate them even more since they’d disrupted his life so much.

“Can we keep them at the base?” Vista asked, and there was a rat standing on her head now. Pretender was pretty sure Danny wasn’t doing that because these things were probably filthy, and Danny always cared about stuff like that.

“I’ll build some containment units for them,” Armsmaster announced, quite possibly dodging Vista’s question. “Sensory deprivation, easy transport for combat deployment… enrichment, if they need it. They seem fairly intelligent. We’ll have some R&D folks spend some time looking at them.”

“I can’t believe it was that easy,” Pretender heard Battery say to Assault as the heroes split up to find free seats in the PRT trucks. Most of their cargo holds were pretty stuffed with rats, and not many people were too keen on the idea of sitting with them.

“Hey, at least they’re on our side now,” Assault pointed out, and that was the last Pretender heard of their conversation. They were right, though. Those rats had caused them a lot of trouble, but Danny was doing a lot better now, which meant that maybe they could turn these swarms on the city’s gangs soon.

Even better, it meant Pretender was going to get to work with Danny more. No more weeks and weeks apart from each other anymore.

December 23 2008

The team wrapped up the battle late on Monday, celebrating on Tuesday, and aiming to ship their visitors back home on Wednesday. That didn’t happen because an alarm on all their PRT-issued phones woke them up and sent half of them into battle.

Pretender suited up even though he knew he wasn’t planning on going and watched Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Velocity, Lady Photon, Manpower, Flashbang, Brandish, Ursa Aurora, Prism, Floret, and several Satyrical clones, including a Platinum one, pile into a PRT jet headed for Madison, Wisconsin.

Danny, Dauntless, and Assault herded the Wards and New Wave’s kids into the Wards’ living room once the jet was out of sight. Pretender hung back a bit with Battery, not because he was particularly bad with kids, but more because he was a little too caught up in his own head to take charge right now like they were.

“Did you want to go?” Battery asked as the two trailed behind the little flock.

Pretender shook his head. “No one wants to fight the Simurgh.”

Battery just looked at him. She knew he knew what she meant.

“You’ve only been a cape for a couple years,” Pretender told her, trying not to sound condescending. “I got my powers the year before Behemoth’s first attack. I’ve been to nearly every battle Protectorate capes were able to go to. My powers—Platinum’s powers, I mean—made me pretty good. I was immune to Behemoth’s kill aura, I could make myself buoyant for search and rescue from Leviathan’s floods, and I was enough of a Brute to smash anything the Simurgh threw around with her telekenesis.”

Battery nodded along. “And now your powers can’t do anything against them. Your power’s probably dangerous to expose to the Simurgh’s scream, too.”

Pretender hummed in confirmation. “I know if she was going to do anything to me, she probably would have done it by now. It’s too much of a risk, though. I know I shouldn’t go, but this is the first Endbringer battle so close that I’ve missed, and I’m not even spending it with my daughter. She’s probably watching the news, and I’m with a bunch of other people’s kids instead of her.”

Battery made a bit of a face. “Oh. Yeah, I didn’t think about that. Where is she anyway? With Danny here and all.”

“Staying with a friend,” Pretender told her a little glumly. “I saw her for a bit when I was picking Danny up and dropping her off. I knew I missed her, but just seeing her again for a few minutes…”

“Why doesn’t Danny visit for Christmas? He was up for the fight two days ago. If everything with the Simurgh goes well, I’m sure he’ll still be up for seeing your daughter,” Battery suggested, and, damn, that was a good idea. “You’d probably only get to see her for a bit again, unless you can think of some reason for Danny to bring a friend, but you’d still get to see her.”

“I’ll talk to Danny about it,” Pretender told her, as if Danny wouldn’t leap at the opportunity. Hell, if he didn’t, Pretender would make him. He needed to know how Taylor was doing through all this.

Pretender spent some time with the kids, talking to the ones who needed a little more attention through the rare updates they got about the battle. They were capes, sure, and knew how to put on a brave face, but this was a couple of their first Endbringer battles since becoming capes themselves, or at least their first Simurgh battle. They were always a little rough on everyone, and Pretender didn’t mind having to comfort them a bit, especially since Danny, Satyr, Dauntless, Assault, and Battery were all trying to do the same thing.

Still, it was a massive relief when they got the notification that the battle was over with none of their own as casualties. Pretender collapsed on one of the Wards’ couches, all the anxious energy that he hadn’t even realized was there draining from him. Danny settled next to him and popped the jaw off his mask so he could rest his chin on Pretender’s head.

Then Danny got a text, and Taylor was calling him, and some of that buzz was back.

Danny stepped out of the Wards’ living room to talk to her, and Pretender followed him like a shadow, putting his ear up against the other side of the phone even though it made Danny’s voice too loud until Danny just put the call on speaker.

They talked about the Simurgh a bit. Taylor tried asking about what was going on with Danny, and Pretender thought he dodged the questions pretty well. Not well enough for Taylor to miss, but Pretender wasn’t sure if it was possible. There were some pretty big elephants in the room. There was no way Taylor wasn’t at least a little suspicious, even if she probably didn’t suspect any cape business.

They talked about Christmas, though, and Taylor seemed excited to see Danny again, almost as much as Pretender was to see her, even if it would only be for a few moments.

Danny and Pretender hit the PRT gift shop within the hour. Neither of them had thought much about Christmas shopping much with everything that was happening, but Pretender was sure they could still find something Taylor would like on such short notice.

December 25 2008

Pretender pretty much just drove around awhile Danny was visiting Taylor, knowing that he’d be tempted to possess one of the Barnes if he let himself stop. He probably wouldn’t, but Satyr made a joke about it when he gave Danny his gift for Taylor, and now Pretender couldn’t get the idea out of his head. It sounded like something he would do.

He still made himself wait for the agreed-upon time to pick up Danny. He wasn’t going to cut his husband’s time with their daughter short just because he was impatient.

Taylor was wearing the Satyr hoodie when Pretender came to the door. He’d thought about giving her a Platinum one, but Pretender thought it was a little ugly, and they were going to rebrand Platinum soon anyway. He thought the Satyr one might be a little niche, but Taylor seemed to like it, so it didn’t really matter.

She looked good. Better than she did the last couple times he’d seen her, though that wasn’t saying much. She looked normal. Like she hadn’t just found out her mother died or that there was something wrong with her father. More like the Taylor Pretender knew.

He wanted to hug her, but he resisted. That would be weird, right? From her perspective, this was only her second time meeting him, or at least he was pretty sure. “Hi, Taylor.”

“Hi,” Taylor responded a little curtly, and then she was focused on Danny again. Pretender tried not to feel too crushed. She didn’t know who he was, he reminded himself. Of course, she wanted to say goodbye to her Dad. That wasn’t a bad thing.

Pretender still felt just about ready to cry when he and Danny got back to the car, though. He’d gotten a little hardened these past few years in the Protectorate, but it’d always been easier to cry in Annette’s body than his own. If he was still her, Pretender was pretty sure a few tears or sniffles would have slipped out.

“I miss her,” Pretender bemoaned, pressing his forehead into the top of the steering wheel, careful not to hit the horn. He hoped Taylor and the Barnes weren’t looking at them through the window, but he needed a moment before he drove away.

“Me too,” Danny told him, and Pretender lifted his head to say something, but Danny beat him to it. “I know it’s not the same. It’s only been a week for me, and me hiding that you’re alive from her is nothing compared to you having to stay away from her, but…”

Whatever Pretender was going to say was gone, sympathy flooding his system. He reached over and rubbed a thumb over the back of Danny’s hand, his hands feeling warm against his own colder ones. “Doesn’t mean it’s not still hard on you, babe.”

“She thinks we’re friends. Which, I mean, technically we are,” Danny told him, adding that last part a little hastily, “but I meant more like she knows who you are. We know keeping you away a hundred percent isn’t good for us. Maybe once I’m back at home, it wouldn’t be so weird for her if you visited. And if you don’t think you can get into an Annette clone, maybe we can tell her we’re dating after… I don’t know, however long would be appropriate for me to start dating again after my wife died.”

Pretender liked the sound of that. He’d prefer for Taylor to know it was him, that he was the parent who raised her, but he also knew they probably still shouldn’t tell her anytime soon. This sounded like the best alternative. “I think I’d like that. More incentive for you to get better, yeah?”

Danny snorted. “Yeah.”

They drove back to the PRT base in silence, Pretender feeling hopeful about the future for the first time in awhile.

January - July 2009

As nice as it was to spend a few days with Tommy at his apartment at the Protectorate HQ, Danny was still more than excited to get back home.

Taylor wasn’t there when he and Tommy arrived, but Kurt and Lacey were, and it was great to see them again. Danny felt a little bad for not updating them as much as he should, but the PRT medical staff hadn’t really thought of any good lies for Danny to tell people about his condition, so Danny was just trying to seem tight-lipped about it. Still, it was good to see his friends again.

A few of the Protectorate members came along too, partially to help out, but Danny thought they might just be being nosy too. He didn’t mind. It was nice to know he had friends who knew what was going on with him.

Satyr distracted Tommy a bit when Taylor arrived, and Danny let himself hug her a little longer than Taylor probably wanted to make up for Tommy not being able to do it himself. Taylor didn’t even try to wiggle out of it, even though the Barnes and all of Danny’s friends were right there.

They were all a big help. Danny tried really hard, but the problems from before weren’t automatically solved just because Danny had a better grip on his powers. He still had to see Tommy every few days to have him regulate the rat gunk build-up in his body, and he was still pretty nervous about throwing up, even though Taylor was getting pretty good at cooking.

Eventually, Danny was able to produce the rats on his own without vomiting, but Taylor had seen them that day in December, and she knew who Rat Race was now, so Danny had to sneak them off to the PRT and Protectorate pretty often to deposit them in Armsmaster’s cages, but it was a lot better than it had been before.

Taylor was a cape fan now, which was a little odd but still worked out in Danny’s favor. She’d been excited to see the Protectorate’s announcement of Satyrical, Geode, Rat Race, and Pretender, though the moment got sullied a bit by Emma’s reaction to Geode’s ‘transition,’ at least for Danny. Taylor was a little quiet toward the end, and Danny wasn’t sure if it was because she could tell Danny was trying not to argue with her friend or because she too was put off by Geode.

Danny didn’t think Taylor was transphobic, but he and Tommy had never really talked about that kind of stuff with her. Maybe they should have, because it could’ve made getting Tommy home a little easier.

Or so he thought. Danny was in therapy now, and so was Tommy, and they’d go together sometimes. They mentioned the idea of masculinizing an Annette clone like Tommy had done with Platinum and Geode, and telling Taylor that her mom had just transitioned. It was a little bit of an out-there idea, and Danny knew that he and Tommy probably wouldn’t have actually done it, but the therapist shut down that train of thought pretty quickly.

“You’re thinking of her as an obstacle in your relationship instead of an actual person,” their therapist told them more than once. “You’re considering how she would feel about the different ways you could introduce Pretender back into her life, but you’re not considering what’s actually best for her.”

Danny knew the therapist was right, but he still hated to hear it.

What was best for Taylor was to grieve her mother and move on. That was not what was best for Danny or for Tommy, but they knew it was what was best for Taylor, so they still tried.

Using an Annette clone still wasn’t completely off the table, but Danny’s hope for using that as a solution was constantly dying more and more rapidly. He knew Tommy didn’t like being in Annette’s body from the start, but he probably should’ve seen a PRT therapist about it far before now. It was hard on him in a lot of ways Danny hadn’t really understood and still didn’t really understand, but he knew it would be hell on Tommy to go back to being Annette, even if it meant being with Taylor again.

Still, Danny longed to have Tommy home again. He visited sometimes, but Danny was pretty sure Taylor didn’t really like it when he had friends over, so he tried his best to limit it, or at least mainly have Tommy over when Taylor wasn’t home.

The therapist said not to think of Taylor as an obstacle, but it still sent a thrill through Danny’s heart when Taylor said she wanted to go to summer camp that year. It wouldn’t really be the same without Taylor there, but at least his husband could come home for a little bit.

Chapter Text

December 2008

Dr. Jessica Yamada specialized in working with parahuman children, which the PRT always seemed to be forgetting, but the Brockton Bay Protectorate was fucked up enough that she really didn’t mind that she was called in to work with one of them instead of the Wards.

When she got the notification, she let herself have a moment to make a game of it. Which of them finally cracked? 

Her bet would be on Armsmaster. He always did his mandatory psyche evals, and he was generally pretty fine, but Yamada could sense some underlying issues. Efficiency Tinker? Screamed control issues.

Miss Militia could be a pretty obvious answer, too. She was a Noctis Cape, and she was an interesting one. Reliving traumatic memories instead of dreaming? And avoiding sleep because of it? Hello, therapy?

Yamada didn’t know the other Brockton Bay Protectorate members all that well, but it could be any of them as well. Assault falling back into some villainous habits, Dauntless and his family issues, how Platinum hadn’t been on the field in months, Velocity’s dissatisfaction with his career… None of those were really parahuman issues, though.

She was a little disappointed that it was someone new.

Then, she was excited because Danny Hebert’s challenges were actually really interesting.

He was so repressed that his powers gave him an eating disorder. Yamada told him that as levelly as she could, not revealing how unique a parahuman this made him, but Danny didn’t seem to care all that much.

“Repression isn’t really anything new for me,” Danny told her. When prompted, he added, “I’ve been lying to everyone I know for half my life. I don’t see how this is different enough to make me get powers. I thought maybe it was because I was lying to Taylor, but I’ve been lying to her for her whole life, too.”

Oh boy. Yamada’s therapist training was really going to come in clutch for this one. “How do you think it’s different?”

“I don’t know,” Danny told her, and Yamada had to prod a bit more for him to give explaining a shot. “Before, I was just lying about me. And Tommy, I guess. It was about us, but now it’s about everyone else, too.”

Danny talked a little bit about how he’d gone to pick up Taylor from a friend’s house when he’d been told that his spouse died, and how he’d very abruptly realized they weren’t grieving the same person. How the feelings that realization sparked didn’t fade even when he learned his husband was alive. Isolating, it was.

This was probably the oddest case that Yamada had to deal with. She was really going to have her work cut out with this one, and they hadn’t even gotten to Danny’s actual problems yet.

January 2009

Yamada desperately wanted to ask Tommy to come in after meeting with Danny, but she knew he’d be in on his own sooner or later.

Years trapped in a body of the opposite sex? Transgender parahumans weren’t uncommon, and this wasn’t quite the same as those cases, but it was a huge opportunity to better understand gender incongruence in anyone, and that wasn’t even considering how Tommy’s powers played into it.

Plus, being stuck in the body of the person that you believed killed you? That you’d watched kill your friends and peers? Yamada was shocked that the PRT hadn’t made Tommy go into mandatory therapy sessions for weeks before returning to Brockton Bay when he’d first triggered.

They couldn’t even get to that, though, because Tommy was being stubborn right off the bat.

Not stubborn. Experiencing a disconnect with one of Yamada’s therapy tools. Reel it in, Yamada.

“I consider it important for capes to use their real names,” Yamada told Pretender when he’d corrected her from using his civilian name. “It helps them remember you’re more than your powers.”

“Am I though?” Pretender asked, and it didn’t sound rhetorical. “My powers have defined most of my life. I mean, I didn’t know they were my powers, but still. It was literally inescapable.”

“You mean your body was a constant reminder of what happened to you.”

Pretender nodded. “It felt like Annette’s body for so long. Sometimes it was mine, but it was never quite right. I wasn’t Annette, and I wasn’t Tommy. That’s why I like being called Pretender.”

“You’re not in that in-between anymore, though,” Yamada told him. “You’re back in your original body, but you still don’t think you can be Tommy.”

Pretender shrugged. “I triggered when I was twenty. I was barely me any longer than I was Annette. I was only Tommy as, what? A kid and a teenager? A couple years in college? I was Annette for my whole career, my whole marriage, and my whole time being a parent. I can’t just forget that because I’m me again.”

“You keep referring to yourself as Annette. Do you truly feel like you were her, or do you mean it more metaphorically?” Pretender’s power testing hadn’t been all that extensive, but there’d been no indication of the line between Pretender and Annette actually getting blurred. Still, Yamada wasn’t confident the PRT would notice something like that.

“Um, metaphorically, I guess,” Pretender answered a little hesitantly. The healtheir answer, probably, even if it would be more interesting if there was a fragment of Annette still in there. “Like I said, eventually the body felt more like mine than someone else’s, but I still knew it was hers, and I always felt kind of bad treating it like it was mine. Probably helped me survive those first couple years, thinking I had to take care of it, but probably nearly killed me down the line.”

Suicical ideation? It was likely. A common symptom of gender dysphoria. Yamada made a note of it, something to talk about later, but she wanted to let Pretender finish getting his thoughts out.

“I felt like shit all the time, and I knew I could’ve done stuff to change that. I could’ve gotten surgery or gone on hormones, but I felt super guilty even thinking about it,” Pretender went on. “I mean, I took Annette’s body, and I didn’t want to, I don’t know, fuck it up? But she took my life too. I know she was terrible, but she was still a person, and I literally could not forget that because I was her. But now I’m not her anymore, and I feel okay again, but it only happened because she died. Because I killed the body I’d taken from her and tried to, uh, preserve for so long.”

Oh, this was all about guilt. Pretender booked a therapy session because he felt guilty, and he wanted Yamada to tell him it was all okay.

“I’m not here to tell you what you did was right or wrong,” Yamada told him simply, and Pretender’s mouth hardened into a line, but he didn’t say anything. “We talk about your intentions, and the results of the actions you took, and figure out what you need to have peace with what happened to Annette, but it’s not going to be as easy as me telling you that you’re right for trying to respect Annette’s body or doing what you had to do to survive. This is going to take time and work.”

Pretender sighed, but he agreed, which was a lot more than Yamada thought most capes would do in his shoes.

March 2009

“I thought I’d be back home by now,” Pretender told Yamada quietly. “I know grieving takes awhile, but we weren’t planning on Taylor being back to a hundred percent when we told her.”

“What made you wait?” Yamada asked, even though she knew the answer. Danny had talked about it with her at length.

“Danny’s health at first, but then she started getting worse when he got better,” Pretender explained. “She won’t talk to him, and he doesn’t know why, and I can’t help but think maybe she’d talk to me, but she can’t because she doesn’t know who I am, and I keep thinking myself into this loop.

It was a bit of a problem they’d put themselves in by not preparing Taylor or telling her sooner, but Yamada did think they were doing right waiting for Taylor. Now the challenge was the fact that they’d waited at all. If only they’d bring her to therapy too…

April 2009

“I’m really worried about Taylor,” Danny said, and it felt like he said that every session lately. “She’s been getting worse and worse since December, and I know it’s because of me, but I don’t know how to help her, and I can’t even have Tommy try to talk to her because that’s what started all this in the first place.”

Yamada was really thankful for her experience working with teenagers now. All the things she wished she could say to her past patients’ parents, she could say to Danny now.

June 2009

Yamada thought Danny and Pretender were pretty well-adjusted, all things considered. They really should have told Taylor about Pretender a lot sooner, but they were still pretty level-headed beyond that.

It took having sessions with the two of them together to realize that was not really true.

They were a cute couple. They clearly loved each other, and they’d fought hard enough for their relationship when Pretender ended up in Annette’s body to know they had every reason to feel secure in what they had.

Pretty much all of their problems were related to being parahumans, though. Danny didn’t know what being part of the Vegas Protectorate entailed until Satyr mentioned he and Pretender had been gambling at the Ruby Dreams and got pushed to spill the beans. Pretender thought Danny was humanizing his rats too much and worried it might interfere with his recovery. Those kinds of things. Nothing major, nothing that an outside perspective couldn’t help.

Their parenting decisions, though…

“You can’t tell your daughter that her mother disappeared for a year because she got a sex change operation,” Yamada told them, trying her hardest not to scream. She wasn’t really using the right words, she knew, but she really just needed to get her point across. “You can’t have Pretender possess a clone and lie to her about where her mother has been. You’re either going to traumatize her or make her lose all trust in you. Probably both.”

Danny and Pretender didn’t seem pleased to hear that, but at least they were listening.

“You’re thinking of her as an obstacle in your relationship instead of an actual person,” Yamada told them more than once. “You’re considering how she would feel about the different ways you could introduce Pretender back into her life, but you’re not considering what’s actually best for her.”

It took some time, but Danny and Pretender figured it out. What was best for Taylor was just going through the healing process, and they could consider telling her the truth when she was in a more stable state. Taylor being ready to hear the news was the most important thing.

Yamada was a little relieved she didn’t have to tell them that, even if it didn’t stop Danny and Pretender from trying to think of ways to make everything go back to the way things once were.

July 2009

Yamada didn’t really expect to see Danny or Pretender during July. Taylor was off at summer camp, they told her, and Yamada knew they were codependent enough to think they would be fine just because they got to live together for the month.

She really hadn’t expected them to book an appointment after just a couple of days with a morality crisis.

“I got Annette’s body pregnant!” Danny practically cried the moment the door to Yamada’s office shut. 

Yamada wanted to sigh. This was normally a Pretender-type of crisis. Surely this couldn’t be the first time Danny had this realization.

“Technically, we were both there,” Pretender said with a forced casualness. Yamada knew he was probably just trying to keep himself from joining Danny in panic, but Yamada really didn’t need to hear that. “It’s probably more accurate to say we accidentally got her pregnant.”

Danny ignored him, and to Yamada, he said, “When Tommy first possessed me to help me with my powers, I could tell what he was doing in my body. I knew that probably meant Annette could too, but I didn’t really think it all through.”

“We don’t know she could see everything,” Pretender argued before Yamada could speak. “In power testing, Dauntless, Assault, Clockblocker, and Triumph could tell what I was doing with their bodies, but Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Gallant couldn’t.”

That was interesting. Pretender had never mentioned that before. There were some moral and legal issues with him using a Master power on the Wards, but Yamada could talk to him about that another time.

“This is the same question we discuss in our sessions, Pretender,” Yamada said. “At what point does a body belong to someone?” 

It felt like a question Yamada would’ve had in a discussion section in her undergrad. It felt almost like a rhetorical question, but when she tried to think of an obvious answer, Yamada could never find one. What was that point? When someone can speak? When they become an adult? What about when they join the military, participate in a study, allow a surgical procedure, or offer to be a surrogate? What if they’re unconscious, or comatose? Does a partner deserve any say? Where does consent begin and end? Are “our” bodies even “ours?” Is there some inherent social or divine contract that says “we” must preserve them? 

“We could debate it forever, and the answer always changes,” Yamada went on, more for Danny’s benefit than Pretender’s. This was a lesson Pretender knew well.

Yamada and Pretender had a lot of talks about it, which Yamada found she rather enjoyed. Like she’d said, there was no real answer. Using a different lens, whether it be a feminist, transgender, medical, religious, symbolic, scientific, moral, philosophical, humanist, fictional, or ethical one, just changed too much, and Yamada found her own thoughts on it constantly changing, even if she knew she could never voice her real opinions in a therapy session. Whatever moral issues she might’ve had, she was not there to pass judgment, and the goal was just to make Pretender find the answer that worked for him in a healthy way.

“What’s the conclusion we often come to?” she asked him instead.

“It depends, and I was put in an impossible position that no one else has been in before. It’s important I think about the morality of what I did, but I still need to acknowledge that I didn’t know what I was doing, and it’s okay that I was trying to do what I did to live my life,” Pretender recited, sounding almost sullen. Danny watched him silently. “That doesn’t make me feel better, though. I mean, I was probably torturing her.”

“You don’t know that,” Yamada reminded. He was right. If she was conscious, they were probably torturing her, but that wasn’t very constructive, and they had no real way of knowing. “You do know that you weren’t trying to hurt her, and that there’s no way of getting answers now, so you can’t fixate on something that might’ve happened years ago.”

“And she gave us Taylor,” Danny added softly. “As bad as I feel about all this, I can’t feel bad about that.”

“I want to see her again so bad,” Pretender said, and they were back to trying to connive ways into getting Pretender back in the Hebert home. Yamada suspected those parts of their sessions were going to get a lot worse.

November 2009

“Taylor got beat up at school,” Danny told Yamada, which she really hadn’t thought was going to be the topic of today’s session. He was always surprising her, even after nearly a year of regular therapy. “She’s been getting bullied, and I didn’t even know.”

This was a little more up Yamada’s alley, but she still didn’t like to hear it.

“She came downstairs this morning, and she had all these bruises on one side of her face,” Danny told her, wringing his hands. “She said she just fell, but I remembered what you told me about knowing when to be firm, so I asked again, and she told me that some girls have been picking on her. She said this was the worst it’s been, but I’m not really sure I believe her.”

Okay, there were a lot of things to address. Danny’s guilt for not knowing, but Danny feeling guilty wasn’t really anything new. Knowing how to find the balance between being understanding and being a parent was another thing. But this was all fresh enough that Danny didn’t need help processing. He needed solutions.

Yamada and Danny talked a little bit about contacting the school’s administration and practicing what Danny might ask Taylor to get the information he needed to do so. Danny seemed a little calmer after talking through it, but it still wasn’t enough.

“I feel like I’m not doing anything,” Danny told her, scratching his chin. “Like I’m just asking someone else to fix the problem.”

Yamada recognized the thought process. A lot of capes had trouble with that sort of thing, given that they fixed most of their problems by literally attacking the problem and all.

“What do you want to happen?” Yamada asked him. “What do you think would actually fix the problem?”

He wanted the bullying to stop. In an ideal world, he’d send his rats to the school and take care of it himself, but that was more of a fantasy than a realistic option, and Danny wasn’t really that kind of guy, even if it was.

If Danny couldn’t fix the problem, the school would, but Danny wasn’t having a lot of faith there. Something to talk about in more depth later. For now, Yamada thought it was a reasonable hesitancy. Afterall, Taylor had been getting bullied for some time now, it seemed, and the school hadn’t noticed or done anything.

The third approach would be to focus on Taylor, to equip her with the tools and skills to protect herself. Danny suggested pepper spray, and Yamada had to remind him that Taylor was a high schooler and could get into more trouble for having a weapon, even if she intended to defend herself with it only.

“Self-defense lessons?” Danny tried after awhile. He was frowning still, but his voice was steady. “I think learning how to fight with the Protectorate made me feel a lot more comfortable in the sketchier areas around the docks. It might help Taylor, both to make her feel safer and to help her protect herself.”

Yamada agreed. If she were Taylor’s therapist, she would have suggested it. “Do you think you want to teach her yourself? Or sign her up for a class? You could probably even have Tommy try teaching her, if you think he’s up for it. It could be a step toward reintroducing him to her life, too.”

Danny’s eyes lit up at that last part, and Yamada knew the decision was made.

December 2009

“I’m pretty sure Taylor hates me.”

Yamada wanted to sigh. “I take it the self-defense lessons aren’t going well?”

“She’s doing really well,” Pretender told her, sounding somewhere between proud and disappointed, “and I can tell she’s interested, but she just doesn’t act like it. She won’t talk to me unless she has to, and- and- I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Do you think you’re expecting her to behave the way she used to, or there’s something else going on?” 

“I don’t know. The second one, I think, but I can’t help but think that me dying messed her up more than we thought, and she’s just hiding it from Danny,” Pretender explained. More quietly, he added, “I think that’s just wishful thinking, though. I think she actually just doesn’t like me, or she resents me, or she’s scared of me. I don’t know which is better.”

They talked it through a bit, analyzing Pretender’s feelings about it all, before moving to solutions.

“I want to keep spending time with her, but I know this can’t be good for her,” Pretender groaned into his hands. “Do you think I should ask Satyr to start training her? If she likes him…”

Yamada was pretty sure Pretender and Satyr’s friendship was strong enough to remain steady if Taylor preferred Satyr over Pretender, and she knew trying a new teacher was the best option for Taylor, but she knew this wouldn’t be the end of the problem.

February 2010

“Okay, I’m like ninety percent Taylor is either planning to fight someone, or that she triggered and is planning on moonlighting as a cape,” Satyr said almost casually, sprawled back on the couch in Yamada’s office. He didn’t sound totally serious, but there was real concern in his voice. He angled his head up a bit, eyes meeting Yamada’s. “Do you think I should tell Pretender and Rat Race?”

Yamada wanted to scream. She would never be ungrateful that the Brockton Bay capes weren’t going to therapy again. Boy, did they need it, but were really putting Yamada through it.

Chapter Text

March 2010

The limiting factor on me starting my superhero career was more the weather than anything else.

It didn’t take that long for me to figure out how my powers worked. Those feelings I was getting at school that were helping me avoid the bullies? I had some kind of extra sense that used bugs to help me map out my surroundings. I didn’t understand the exact details of it, but once I knew it was there, it wasn’t hard to adjust to it.

The same power gave me some control over bugs, but it took me figuring out my Breaker state, as I learned PHO would call it, to really get a grip on it. That was what activated when Sophia and the track girls were beating me up. I probably could’ve done that before, but I just hadn’t realized it until the power tried using itself all on its own to get me out of there.

I could turn into a swarm of bugs. Not a power I ever thought I would have.

I’d definitely played with the idea of having powers, so sue me. PHO had some threads with guides to make your capesona that I didn’t spend a ton of time on, but I’d definitely looked at it a few times. I always thought I’d like a Shaker power, maybe a Mover or Blaster. Breaker and Master powers weren’t really something I ever considered. I associated those a little more with villains, but I thought I could make it work.

It took me kind of awhile to turn into my Breaker state, and it would take even longer if I wanted any say over what kind of bugs ended up in my swarm, but after that, it was pretty easy to use my powers. My body started roughly me-shaped, and I could break it up, sending individual bugs or small clusters out on their own, and pull myself back together no problem.

The problem was that I didn’t really know what happened when the me-bugs got hurt. I could add bugs to my self-swarm, but they didn’t absorb into myself when I left my Breaker state. I tried experimenting a bit, and I never really found an answer. I would just find out on the field.

Only, I didn’t hit the field, because Dad was making Mr. Creel teach me self-defense.

It was just so weird. Did he know? I doubted it, given Dad only started this after he found out about the bullying, but it was still too much to be a coincidence that Mr. Creel started taking an interest in me not only after I’d caught onto him, but also after I’d gotten powers. Had he Mastered Dad into making this happen? It was the best theory I had, but it still didn’t explain how he knew about my powers. Unless he could read my mind, which I knew was impossible, but I couldn’t help but think it.

Then Dad switched my self-defense trainer to Mr. Jones, and I stopped seeing Mr. Creel anymore. I had to wonder if I’d somehow made it happen, but there was no real way for me to know, and I liked Mr. Jones a lot better, so I guess it didn’t really matter in the end.

Not that the self-defense training mattered much in general. I couldn’t really punch people or block hits in my Breaker state. It still felt like important stuff to know if I was going to be a superhero.

The first couple times I went out were uneventful. It took a long time to get into my Breaker state in full, and it also took kind of awhile to fly to an area where there might be some crime to stop. It was probably a good thing I got some practice using my powers before actually encountering a problem, because I don’t know if I would have reacted in time if I hadn’t been itching for a fight.

I started out on the boardwalk because that was where the Wards patrolled a lot, and that was probably a good sign, right? It was night, so it was a bit cold for my bugs, but I could deal with it. I spread myself out, blanketing the area under my senses. There weren’t a lot of people here, but I sensed someone on a rooftop and was about to start investigating when I felt movement on the ground.

It took me a bit to figure out what exactly was happening. I could still see in a literal sense, but I still wasn’t exactly sure what was considered my eyes in my swarm, and they weren’t really close to the action. Through my bugs, I felt three runners, two larger ones chasing a smaller one. Before I got the main part of myself to the scene, I had my bugs start attacking the two attackers.

It was a little hard because they didn’t have a lot of exposed skin, but I think that might’ve heightened the psychological effect. They started reacting before I even started biting them. The girl they’d been chasing paused for a sec, reacting to the way her chasers suddenly stopped to paw at their jackets, but recovered quickly and started running again.

I put a couple bugs in her hair so it’d be easy to find her later, and focused my efforts on biting the two attackers.

“What the fuck?” one of them cried, slapping down on his jacket to try to kill the bugs, but it was a puffy thing, so the fabric cushioned the blows. “Fucking bugs!”

“Forget this!” the other one shouted. He was having a little more luck, but he had a lighter jacket, so it wasn’t really a problem that he was squishing a few of them. I could just swarm him with more bugs. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two ran, and I bit them a little bit longer before stopping. That was easy enough. I didn’t even have to reform my body to try to fight them on my own.

I found the girl who’d been being chased hiding in an alleyway and tried to make myself look a little human before talking to her. “You okay?”

I knew my voice sounded pretty scary like this. I was mimicking words with the buzzing of my bugs, so it didn’t really sound like an actual voice, but I’d spent a lot of time practicing, so I thought it was good enough. The girl looked a little alarmed, but, like before, recovered quickly and flashed me this brilliant smile.

“Yup!” she told me, getting to her feet. She had a purple jacket on that looked pretty warm, and she had her hands in her pockets almost casually. “That was you who saved me, yeah?”

I nodded, then realized she probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah. Do you know who those guys were?”

“No clue. ABB, I assume,” she told me with a shrug. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, then stuffed it into the hood of her jacket, pulling it back up. The bugs I’d put there flopped out in the process, and I tried to reabsorb them as subtly as I could. “I’m new in town, so I don’t really know how things work. I guess it was pretty dumb of me to be out this late, wasn’t it?”

If I were more human, I might’ve smiled. Instead, I told her, “Maybe just a little bit. Do you need help getting home?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve already done enough to help… um…”

She was asking for my name, I realized. “Skitter. It’s Skitter.”

It’d taken me a bit to think of the name. I thought about maybe Swarm or Pestilence, but those sounded far too sinister, even if they were more accurate. Not that Skitter wasn’t accurate. Most of my bugs could fly, but a lot of them were still kind of skittering around. Or I was skittering around? I was still me when I was in my Breaker state, but it was weird to think about.

“Skitter.” She flashed another smile, and then she was walking past me. “Thanks for the save! Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

I let her go, having only a little bit of my swarm follow after her so she wouldn’t notice, just in case those ABB guys came back. I stayed in my humanoid shape just because it made it a little easier to look around. I should probably try to figure out where those ABB guys went, right?

I sensed movement on the rooftops and knew the figure was above me before she called out.

“You know she was running from them because she stole from them, right?”

“What?” I craned my head around, fully turning my body around before rising up to get closer to the speaker. Shadow Stalker, I recognized almost instantly. I’d seen pictures of her on PHO. She was a fairly new cape, maybe appearing a month or two before Mom died. She wasn’t a Ward, so there weren’t a ton of pictures of her online, but she still had a distinct enough look for me to recognize her.

“That girl. She’s been on the boardwalk for weeks pickpocketing people,” Shadow Stalker told me, not even leaning away as my swarm body joined her on the rooftop. “She must’ve tried grifting the ABB too, and they caught on.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The first real thing I did as a hero was saving a criminal from other criminals. Still, a pickpocket was better than the ABB, right? “I’m still glad I saved her.”

Shadow Stalker made a noncommittal noise, and I realized something.

“Wait, were you just going to let them get her?”

She shrugged again. “Probably not. I was waiting to see what she was going to do.”

That didn’t make sense. Only, it kind of did. “I guess I could’ve gathered more information before doing something. I didn’t even realize those guys were ABB.”

It was hard to read Shadow Stalker’s face under her mask, but I thought she looked interested. “You’re a Breaker too, right? How much can you see in there?”

Breaker too? Too, she said. Even if I’d recognized Shadow Stalker, I didn’t know a lot about her. She said she was a Breaker, though? That was pretty cool, and good luck for me that the first cape I met out in costume—or on the field, rather, I didn’t really have a costume—was someone with similar powers. Maybe we could compare notes, so to speak.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. I can sense a lot, and I can look around, but it’s a little confusing where I’m looking from.” I gestured at myself with my bug hands. “It’s a little easier when I’m more together like this.”

“But you’re a Breaker? Not a Case 53?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” I hadn’t really considered I might be mistaken for a Case 53. I didn’t know a lot about them. No one did, which was why they were called Case 53s, but I’d never gone down that particular PHO rabbit hole. “It takes kind of awhile to go between forms, though, so I’m probably not going to switch back unless I have to.”

Shadow Stalker’s gaze leveled a bit. “You shouldn’t be telling people weaknesses like that all willy nilly.”

She was right. I started to apologize, then shoved that thought out of my mind. That was something Taylor would say. I was Skitter. I was supposed to be more confident. “Thanks for the advice. I’m pretty new, if you couldn’t tell.”

She made another noise. “And you’re not a Ward?”

I shook my head before, again, remembering it was probably hard to see. “No.”

“Are you trying to be?”

“No,” I responded, and thought about explaining why before remembering what she said about giving up information. Or, well, she’d said weaknesses, but the logic applied elsewhere. She’d probably bite at me again if I started oversharing.

She seemed to approve. “Good. I usually patrol the edge of Empire territory if you ever want to join. I could use a sensor, and another Breaker means you wouldn’t slow me down too much.”

Was she inviting me to patrol with her? I hadn’t had a friend in so long that I hadn’t even considered it a possibility that Shadow Stalker would want to be around me at all, let alone spend more time around me. I was glad I wasn’t exactly human right now, or I might’ve betrayed how excited the prospect made me.

I had to stay cool, though. You could do cool, Taylor. “I’ll keep that in mind. You busy now?”

April 2010

I started going out during the day before too long, mostly on weekends, but sometimes after school. I stuck to the boardwalk again for the same reasons that I had started patrolling there, even though I was spending most nights I went out with Shadow Stalker in gang territory at this point.

I was willing to admit to myself that my reasons for doing so were kind of vain. I loved seeing capes online, and I guess part of me wanted to be one of them. Shadow Stalker was a vigilante, but she had fans, and after about a month of going out, I kind of wanted the same, and that meant letting people see me.

I guess I should’ve assumed I’d run into some Wards sooner or later.

I sensed them awhile before they saw me. I was getting pretty good at that. Aegis, the Wards' leader, and Kid Win, the newest Ward, I recognized. He’d debuted pretty recently, and I guessed they wanted him on a kiddie route doing some PR to start out. It didn’t really bother me, but three capes in one area might be a bit much.

Aegis spotted me before I could make up my mind about leaving and waved me over. “Hey! Skitter, right?”

He knew my name? I’d only interacted with people on the boardwalk a handful of times. A few of them had taken photos, though, which was kind of what I wanted. Did the PRT monitor PHO or something? If they did, total dream job.

I flew over and rebuilt my body a few feet away from them, feeling a little awkward. What was I supposed to say? If I was meeting them as Taylor, I would probably say I’m a fan, but Shadow Stalker gave me enough lessons to know that made me sound lame, and I didn’t want to seem dorky in front of real Wards.

“Hey,” I said instead, and that made me sound even lamer.

Kid Win didn’t seem to notice. He seemed a little dorky too. “Hey! You’re that new cape, right?”

“Yeah,” I answered a little awkwardly. I was pretty sure I still sounded fine, though. It was hard to hear myself. “What are you guys doing here?”

Aegis lowered his voice and told me they were just doing some PR stuff, like I had sort of suspected. Photos with the fans and the like. He asked me to join, which I accepted eagerly. It was just a start, but an appearance with the Wards would hopefully make my PHO page seem a little bit more legitimate.

I didn’t think much of it until I met up with Shadow Stalker a couple nights later.

“Did you join the Wards?” she demanded, using her Breaker state to jump right in front of me once I’d reformed on the rooftop we often met up at.

I pulled back a bit. “No? Why? Did you see the photos?”

She crossed her arms. I could imagine her frowning, not that I knew what her face looked like under that hockey mask. “You don’t need to be doing that kind of stuff. You’ve only been going out for a month, and we’ve already beaten up a bunch of crooks.”

Shadow Stalker was the one who beat them up, rather. I usually just pointed them out. Sometimes I bit them, but it didn’t feel like I’d actually done that much. Maybe that was why interacting with people on the boardwalk felt so good.

“You don’t have to worry,” I tried to assure her. “I don’t want to join the Wards. I just ran into them.”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t worried. I just need your bugs. Did you hear Grue hit a jewelry store last night?”

Grue? Shadow Stalker mentioned him before. Some cape whose powers messed with her Breaker state. Her rival, she said. “Did you fight him?”

“No.” She sounded frustrated, but she didn’t elaborate. “He usually does a few jobs in a row, as far as I can tell. I need you to keep an eye out for him.”

The request was a little daunting. I’d never fought another cape before, and my powers were pretty similar to Shadow Stalker’s, both of us being Breakers and all. But Shadow Stalker was the one who usually did the fighting, I reminded myself. I would just be pointing her in the right direction, and I could still be a big help if I could use my bugs to help her navigate Grue’s darkness cloud.

My first real cape fight. I was excited to go out the next night, to help Shadow Stalker take down her nemesis, but one line from Dad at dinner that night stopped me in my tracks.

“I’m sorry about everything,” he said out of the blue, taking me by surprise. It wasn’t like we didn’t talk, but comfortable silences were more normal than not. Usually, we made small talk, but this sounded like he wanted to talk about something real.

“Um, okay,” I answered uncertainly. I tried to think of what he might be referring to, but came up blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dad.”

He looked a little sheepish but explained anyway. “I knew you wanted to talk about Mom after she died, and I just kind of shut you out. I’m sorry.”

Did Dad want to talk about Mom now? Or was he going to tell me what happened in December? That’d all been nearly a year and a half ago. Why was he bringing it up now? “It’s fine. I know you were dealing with it in your own way.”

Dad shook his head. “That’s no excuse. I should’ve talked to you about it. I wanted to talk to you about it. I just got really in my head about it. Which isn’t really an excuse either, but-”

“Was this something your therapist told you to do?” I interrupted, my discomfort winning out. Dad was kind of an awkward guy, it was where I got it from, but it usually wasn’t so… verbal.

Dad shook his head. “Not really. I mean, she’s been encouraging me to talk to you about it for awhile, but I was just thinking about you going to summer camp again, and how I wanted to talk to you when you got back, but…”

I really thought he was going to ask about Emma or how paranoid I’d been, but, to my relief, he just sort of trailed off.

I felt something in my brain flicker back. Summer camp? I had totally forgotten about it. Last year, I’d been eager to go. This year… Well, I still had stuff to get away from. School, Emma, all the rat stuff to a lesser extent. But the beginning of my cape career was going pretty good. I didn’t know if I could afford to step away so early.

Then again, if I helped Shadow Stalker capture Grue…

“I want to go again this year, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said finally. Dad’s eyes did something I couldn’t really understand just for a second. He agreed, and we talked about it a bit, but I got the idea there was something else he wanted to talk about that we didn’t get to. He kept kind of circling everything back to Mom, but I don’t think he actually said what he wanted to say, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear whatever it was.

He sort of gave up after awhile, and we parted ways. We didn’t stay up that much later than we normally did, but I was eager to get to bed so I could try to get into my Breaker state before heading out. I was getting pretty good at it, but it still took awhile, and I didn’t want to leave Shadow Stalker waiting.

I was about three-quarters of the way into my full swarm form when I heard Dad throwing up, and I was thrown back into my normal human body.

The sound filled me with anxiety. It’d been so long since I’d heard it, but my brain still pinpointed exactly what it was the moment I heard it. November? November 2008? Was that when I’d first heard it? Or was it December? It was so long ago I couldn’t remember. It’d stopped, though, and Dad had gotten treatment, and it’d stayed stopped. Why was it coming back?

Was that why he wanted to talk to me about Mom? Because his health was getting worse? He’d never really told me what was going on with him. Depression and maybe an eating disorder, I was pretty sure, but that didn’t explain everything. It had to be something bigger, something more serious. I’d sort of forgotten about it when I’d chalked it all up to the Master, but I hadn’t seen Mr. Creel since Dad got Mr. Jones to start doing my self-defense practice. I didn’t really know what that was about, but I could feel the old paranoia coming back.

I felt the urge to get my poster board out from under my bed. I hadn’t looked at it since I got my powers, my focus shifting from making a name for myself as a cape over figuring out what was going on with the rat Master. Now, I thought that was stupid. I shouldn’t have let myself get distracted. Dad was my priority, or at least he should have been.

I turned my lamp on and went back to my old logs where I wrote down everything weird that was happening. I’d sort of fallen off of them when I started keeping a log of the bullying at school, and I cursed my past self for it. Priorities. This was what mattered.

I didn’t realize I was kind of spiraling out about it again until I saw that Shadow Stalker had fought Grue and lost on PHO. That made me start cursing myself all over again. Dad was my priority, sure, but I couldn’t ignore everything else.

I went back out as Skitter that next night. Shadow Stalker wasn’t waiting for me, but I found her easily enough.

“It’s about time,” Shadow Stalker said, stopping on a flat rooftop, when my swarm body reformed before her. She sounded mad, voice echoing a bit in her mask. “Where were you?”

“I’m sorry,” I blubbered, and I could tell that it was coming across through my bug voice a bit. “I should’ve been there when you fought Grue.”

“What?” She seemed a bit thrown off, which was pretty unusual for her. “It’s fine. I assumed you just had civilian stuff to deal with. I don’t know if you being there would’ve made a difference. Grue had this other cape with him. Didn’t catch his name, but they totally shut me down.”

Her voice wasn’t really mad anymore, and I realized maybe I’d read into it too much. She was probably mad about losing the fight, not me not being there. We weren’t partners, not teammates. Of course, she didn’t really care.

I was relieved, but it still hurt a little bit.

May 2010

I was feeling kind of down after the whole thing with Shadow Stalker, so I hit the boardwalk again a couple times after school.

I ran into some Wards after about the third time. Aegis again and Clockblocker this time. The leader and the latest rising star. I drifted over to them upon sensing them. They were already interacting with some teenagers, and I was desperate enough for some attention that I didn’t feel embarrassed for butting in.

“You fight that Grue guy?” Clockblocker asked after the crowd wandered off. His voice was bright, almost cheerful. Friendly. Like he was happy to see me, even though we’d never met before.

“No.” I didn’t shake my head this time. I was getting pretty good at that. “Shadow Stalker did, but I didn’t go out that night.”

“Do you work with her a lot?” Aegis asked too casually to actually be casual. “We’ve been trying to talk to her, but she hasn’t done a team up with any Protectorate or Wards cape in awhile. Actually, we’ve been-”

He was cut off by a cry from down the street. “Thief! Someone stop her!”

My bugs buzzed as my attention switched to my surroundings, but Clockblocker had a hand out before I could react, freezing the would be thief before she could make it past us.

“Woah. That was fast,” I said because I couldn’t help myself. I felt a little dumb for saying it, but it was true. I thought I was fast, being a Breaker and having my swarm sense and all. I hadn’t been paying attention, though, and I’d totally missed the pickpocket.

“It’s her again,” Aegis observed, and I focused my attention on the would be thief. Clockblocker seemed to recognize her, and after a moment, I realized I did too.

“I saved her from some ABB guys once,” I said aloud, and Clockblocker made a sound of concern.

“She’s getting mixed up with the ABB?” He almost sounded worried.

“You know her?” I asked, a little surprised. I’d assumed they were like me, that maybe they’d stopped her before, but the way they were talking about her… It wasn’t anything specific, but I got the idea I wasn’t getting the full picture.

Aegis lowered his voice, but not nearly enough that the thief wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Her name’s Lisa. We stopped her from pickpocketing a couple times, um, probably at the end of last year? She said she was having some problems at home and needed the money. I’d sort of assumed she’d figured it out since we hadn’t seen her in awhile and all, but I guess not.”

Huh. There were a couple things that stood out to me. First was that Aegis remembered her, presumably having talked to her after stopping her at some point. The other thing was that apparently, she’d been at this since last year? Surely she should know that the Wards hung around here by now.

“Her hair looks kind of greasy,” Clockblocker observed, inspecting the frozen girl. “Maybe she’s back on the streets and getting desperate again.”

“Um, can’t she hear you?” I asked, feeling a bit thrown off by it all again. How much did the Wards know about some random pickpocket’s business?

Clockblocker shook his head. “Nah. My power’s a total sensory shut down. You don’t even realize you were frozen.”

That sounded pretty freaky. I was glad I wasn’t Clockblocker’s enemy.

“The freezing time is random,” Aegis told me, though I already knew that. “You can hang around if you want to, but Clock and I are going to talk to her a bit, so.”

He ended the sentence a bit abruptly, and I got the idea. I put up my hands and started to break my swarm up. “Hey, no problem. I get it. You want to do your hero thing and check in on her. I should probably get going anyway.”

Lisa snapped out of the effect of Clockblocker’s power as I started to fly off. She jerked, like she was surprised by suddenly being surrounded by two Wards, but her gaze found its way to my swarm, and it stayed there until I’d dissipated too much to keep watching her.

Chapter Text

May 2010

I hadn’t seen the rats since I got my powers, but I still knew them when my bugs touched them.

The first time I’d seen them, I’d thought they were just regular rats. Bigger and darker, sure, but regular rats. PHO had some interesting analysis after Rat Race made a few public appearances, though. The rats didn’t really have faces or those pink, hairless hands and tails that rats usually have. Their whole bodies were made of the same stuff, more of a tangle of material shaped like a rat than a true rat. They were Master-made minions, not true animals.

I could feel all the little tendrils writhing when my bugs made contact. It wasn’t really warm or cool, not rough or soft either. It was kind of just there. The shape and their movement were the main things that stood out to me, and it was easy enough to figure out what they were from there.

There had to be dozens of them. It was late, and we were in gang territory, which meant there were a lot of places the rats could hide in, but they didn’t really seem to be hiding. They traveled boldly and openly, almost like they were looking for something. Gangbangers, hopefully, but I couldn’t shake the fear that they knew I was nearby.

I decided to tell Shadow Stalker. “The rat Master is nearby.”

She turned to look at me. “Who? Rat Race?”

“Uh-huh. His rats are covering the area.”

She remained facing me, masked face blank as ever. “I’ve run into him a few times. The Protetorate uses him to gather intel before a raid, but they put him on recruitment when they’re bored. It’s been quiet tonight, so he’s probably looking for one of us. Probably you.”

My fear became a little more real. “What? Why me?”

Shadow Stalker tilted her head ever so slightly. “The Wards have been trying to warm you up. You didn’t notice?”

I hadn’t. It sort of made sense, though. Was that why I ran into them so much on the boardwalk a few weeks ago? I thought it was just a coincidence, that they were just being friendly. I didn’t think they might be trying to… I didn’t know, get a sense for me as a cape? Establish a rapport for later?

“They usually give their spiel but back off if you say no,” Shadow Stalker went on. “They hang around a bit after, and the Protectorate usually has intel on gang hideouts, so I can usually get them to help me out if they find me. Combining your bugs with Rat Race’s rats would probably be killer.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No? Your powers mess with each other or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to find out.” My thoughts were racing. How much did I want to tell Shadow Stalker? I thought back to camp, when I’d told the kids everything only to realize there was nothing they could do. What was Shadow Stalker supposed to do if she knew Rat Race was a villain? She was in a near identical position as me, just a vigilante with no real power or influence. Having someone else just know would be nice, but there was still the risk she wouldn’t believe me.

I couldn’t just say nothing, though, because Rat Race was getting closer and Shadow Stalker wanted to go talk to him.

“I’m pretty sure he’s the Master controlling those rat swarms from back before the Simurgh attacked Madison,” I decided on saying. “It was just too much of a coincidence.”

Shadow Stalker seemed unmoved. “I mean, yeah. It’s a pretty popular theory. I don’t know if I believe it, though. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times, but he seems like kind of a dork. The PRT went way too hard at softening up his image.”

I knew what she meant. I’d seen kids on the bus with stuffed rat toys from the PRT gift shop.

I knew I wasn’t being convincing enough. “I think I know him in our civilian identities.”

That got a reaction. “Oh shit, really?”

I had the bugs hum in acknowledgement. “He just kind of showed up one day, and I got a bad vibe off him, and he was always super weird with my dad. I haven’t seen him in awhile, though. I think my dad got the idea I didn’t like him.”

Shadow Stalker nodded along. I thought she understood, but her next words told me that wasn’t true. “They dating or something?”

“What? No.” I guess that was a more reasonable conclusion than what I’d been implying. Shadow Stalker thinking I just didn’t like someone my dad was seeing was a lot more realistic than me thinking a local hero was Mastering my dad. Wait, she was looking at me weird now. I had to backtrack. “There’s nothing wrong with that, obviously, but my dad’s, like, the straightest guy ever. Not in a douchey way, I mean, but he married my mom when they were super young. I can’t picture him with anyone else.”

Shadow Stalker made a sound and half nodded along. “She out of the picture?”

“Died,” I answered. If I weren’t made of bugs, I wondered if my throat would feel tight.

She made another noise of acknowledgement. I half-expected her to say she was sorry to hear that, but Shadow Stalker wasn’t that kind of person. It was kind of nice.

“My mom married this asshole a few years ago,” Shadow Stalker told me, which surprised me a bit. “I don’t know what I’d do if I found out he was running with the Protectorate.”

I got the idea she was trying to sympathize with me, but I’d just said that Dad definitely wasn’t dating Rat Race, so I had to wonder if she’d even been listening. “You good to leave the area then?”

She rose. “Yup. It’s no beating up Empire thugs, but playing evasion from the Protectorate might be some fun. Keep your bugs to yourself. I want to do this on my own.”

It wasn’t really my idea of fun, but at least I wouldn’t be confronting Rat Race tonight.

Summer 2010

I was pretty sure Shadow Stalker was my friend.

Neither of us went out every night. We were both in school, and school started pretty early. I ran every morning too, unless I’d stayed up too late the night before as Skitter. Cape time really ate into a healthy sleep schedule.

We were out most nights, though, and it wasn’t like we were crimefighting every single night. Since I got started in March, we probably got into fights maybe three or four times on a busy week. Shadow Stalker had fought Grue twice without me, we briefly ran into Über and Leet once, and we’d scuffled with the lower-level Empire capes a handful of times. Nothing super serious. The point was more that we had a lot of downtime.

It was fun to run around on rooftops in our Breaker states, but sometimes we just talked. Capes stuff was the main thing we had in common, and it was nice to talk about that kind of stuff offline. We were both around the same age, too, though, so we ended up talking about school a fair amount. Shadow Stalker seemed like she would be a popular girl, but she really only had one friend she ever talked about.

I wondered if she was secretly a little like me. I wasn’t great at making friends either. Shadow Stalker was a lot more confident than me, though, so it’d probably be her abrasiveness that would give her problems, not my meekness and my general awkwardness.

At the very least, she was my friend, but I wasn’t her friend. I never asked, but I could see that being the case. I thought that might be changing, though. After nearly running into Rat Race, Shadow Stalker opened up about her family life a bit, and I thought maybe that meant she was showing me some level of trust.

I hadn’t told her when I’d taken some time off to stress about Dad and the rat Master again, but I knew that was kind of inconsiderate of me. I still thought she liked me enough to give me a warning if she was going to be gone for awhile, but apparently that wasn’t true because Shadow Stalker just vanished a few days after school let out.

She’d been talking about going harder at the crimefighting thing when summer hit, when we didn’t have to worry about maintaining our sleep schedules for school, so I wasn’t really expecting her to just stop showing up for patrols like that. I looked around for her in areas we didn’t usually patrol, like ABB territory and lower-crime areas, but not even my bugs found anything.

I sort of assumed her family had gone on a trip without much warning, but the weeks started ticking by without word from her, and I started to get worried.

I ran through our past few interactions in my mind. No way Shadow Stalker was quitting cape life. She was committed to this. Too committed, maybe. Her Breaker state made me doubt she’d gotten injured, but it was definitely possible. She still had to run and punch in her human form. She might’ve tripped. Or, maybe some Empire goons had gotten the drop on her. She had to turn solid to attack. She might’ve gotten hurt then.

I hadn’t heard anything about Grue in a while, either, but I knew his powers could mess with hers. That and electricity. I’d never seen anything online about Shadow Stalker’s weakness, but it wasn’t like someone couldn’t have figured it out. Shadow Stalker might’ve had this massive defeat some night I wasn’t out, and I wouldn’t even know.

I made a post about it on PHO before Dad took me to summer camp, so I could log in when I got back and get notified right away if something happened.

I tried not to let my worry sour my time at summer camp, but it kind of did. When I’d told Dad I wanted to go this year, I kind of went into it with the idea Shadow Stalker would be taking care of things back in Brockton Bay. I knew in the grand scheme of things, we weren’t really making a huge difference, making a tiny dent in stopping crimes compared to everything the Protectorate, PRT, and Wards were doing. It was still something, though. But now, not only was I wondering if anyone would notice Skitter was gone, but also wondering what could have happened to Shadow Stalker.

I tried distracting myself with camp stuff, but it really wasn’t fun anymore. I was all too eager to get back online when I got home.

I could tell Dad wanted to talk to me on the car ride home, and I tried to indulge him a bit, even though my mind was elsewhere. I got the idea he wanted to tell me something, but I’d kind of been getting that idea for awhile now, and Dad never said anything, so I didn’t feel that bad about excusing myself when we got home. I let him chatter a bit about how there was some new intern at work and how one of the up tops were asking him to do a little more complicated work, and then I was back to my computer.

Shadow Stalker joined the Wards.

What the fuck. Shadow Stalker joined the Wards.

After she’d freaked out on me when she thought I might be interested in joining the Wards! Hypocrite! All she went on about being a real hero, about not letting PR or bureaucracy holding her back, and now she was one of them. I couldn’t believe it.

…Actually, I couldn’t believe it. After thinking about it, this really wasn’t in character for Shadow Stalker.

She’d been gone for two months before the announcement was made, too. Something must have happened.

I shoved down my earlier feelings of betrayal. Yeah. There was no way Shadow Stalker just up and decided to join the Wards. There had to be an explanation.

Feeling reinvigorated, I decided to take advantage of the rest of the time I had before I was back in school. Skitter was back in Brockton Bay, and she’d be showing the city she intended to stay, hopefully getting to talk to Shadow Stalker in the process.

Mr. Jones told me that real fights were quick.

Fighting was a very physical activity, and bodies got tired. Most fights lasted less than a minute, or so Mr. Jones said. 

Cape fights were supposed to last a little longer. The fights Shadow Stalker and I got into felt like they were on the longer side, mostly because my powers were more for scouting and kept me from doing much damage very quickly.

I had really limited experience with capes, but it was enough that I really should not have been so surprised by how fast my fight with the Undersiders was.

I heard gunfire from a distance, and I sent my swarm self to investigate. I saw the cloud of Grue’s darkness first, and I sent the edges of my swarm after them, acting as a honing beacon for the rest of me. I expected to have some trouble finding him in the dark cloud, but my bugs hit a warm body pretty quickly. And then another one. And then another one.

My core “self” was pretty close to the cloud by the time I figured out exactly what I was sensing. Four humans riding three… things. My bugs couldn’t really give me any useful information on what they were. My bugs could feel more than see or hear, at least on their own, and Shadow Stalker said that Grue’s darkness shut down normal sight and hearing anyway, so it wouldn’t be much help if the bugs could see and hear. The main thing I felt was a wet warmth, which was pretty unsettling.

I probably could have flown into the cloud and begun my assault, but I remembered what Shadow Stalker said about Grue’s powers affecting her Breaker state, so I just trailed after it, trying my best to fly over the spot I sensed the moving figures, so I could attack the moment it was safe.

If I had a little bit longer, I might’ve had the time to realize I probably wouldn’t have been able to do much to hurt them, and it probably would have been better to call for help, but the cloud of darkness disappeared very suddenly, and then my bugs were dying.

Not the bugs I had on the people and things in the darkness cloud. The bugs that made up me.

I couldn’t tell what was happening first. Most of my bugs were just in one big, amorphous blob around my core self. The bugs at the edge of my swarm went down first, something suddenly stopping them from flying, but then there was a jet of fire coming right toward me.

The next thing I knew, there was some weight on top of me, something covering my whole body, blocking my vision. I panicked, and I started thrashing, and then I realized I was back in my human body.

“Woah, woah,” a voice cautioned. “You’re safe. You left your Breaker state. Keep that blanket on you if you want to hide your identity.”

What? Oh. Oh, that made sense. But it also raised a lot more questions. I sat up and looked around, even though I couldn’t see anything. “Who’s there?”

“Assault. I’m here with Vista and Gallant,,” the voice explained. “None of us saw your face, don’t worry.”

Assault? I knew him, sort of at least. Not the worst person to find me. “What happened?”

“The Undersiders,” a new voice answered. Gallant? It sounded like Gallant. 

Wait, who were the Undersiders? “Who?”

“Grue, Tattletale, Regent, and Hellhound,” Vista answered. “Hellhound was their getaway driver, and Grue covered them up with darkness. I couldn’t see it that well, but I think they were trying to trap you. Regent and Tattletale had hairspray.”

Hairspray? Hairspray could kill bugs? “I saw fire?”

“You ever see a movie where someone makes a flamethrower out of hairspray and a lighter?” Assault asked, and I could picture it. “Dangerous stuff, but not totally unexpected given what we know about Tattletale.”

I still didn’t know who that was. The one to sprayed me with fire, I guess. I pulled at the edges of my blanket, trying to maneuver it so I could keep myself covered while having a gap big enough for me to see out of. My body didn’t hurt, exactly, but I still felt kind of weird, and I was disoriented enough that twisting the blanket around felt a lot harder than it should have been.

“Have you fought them before?” Assault asked, and I got the blanket positioned right just in time to see him shift his weight to one hip as he spoke. “Hairspray doesn’t seem like something they’d just be carrying around. They were ready for you.”

I shook my head, then realized they may not be able to see it. “No. I’ve only ever heard of Grue, but I’ve never even seen him outside of pictures online.”

I hadn’t even seen him tonight, I realized. They’d hit me so fast I couldn’t even get a real look at them.

How embarrassing.

“Maybe they were hoping to run into her so they could get credit for taking down a hero?” Gallant suggested, and I felt a tug of worry. I was pretty small-time. I couldn’t have attracted the attention of a group of supervillains, right?

“Maybe. We have to assume some premeditation,” Assault mused, rubbing his hand over the lower half of his face in thought. “You can’t think of anything that might’ve made them take an interest in you?”

“No.” I paused. “I worked with Shadow Stalker a lot before… before she joined the Wards. She and Grue have something against each other, maybe that’s something?”

“You know Shadow Stalker?” Vista wrinkled her nose when she said that, and I didn’t have any idea why, but this was as good an opportunity as any. I needed to know what happened with her.

“Why did she join the Wards?” I asked, forcing the words out. I looked between Vista, Gallant, and Assault. “Did she get hurt in a fight or something?”

Assault frowned a bit. “That’s classified, I’m afraid. It’s Shadow Stalker’s story to tell. But, while we’re talking about it, do you have any interest in joining the Wards? It’s really not a good sign the Undersiders have an interest in you.”

I’d thought about it, of course. Every kid did. I’d wanted to be a solo hero, and working with Shadow Stalker had reaffirmed that. I had my reasons, but I was realizing I was way in over my head. I had a support power at best. What was I supposed to do if the Undersiders hadn’t taken me down so fast? And for people I’d never even met to find and exploit a weakness I didn’t even know I had so quickly… Tattletale had even known to aim the flamethrower at the core of my swarm. 

It was a little scary now that I had time to think about it. No, it was really scary. I hadn’t known what happened when I got hurt in my Breaker state. It turns out I just changed back, apparently, but I was pretty sure I’d been unconscious for awhile. And I had just been hit with hairspray and some fire. Bugs were pretty vulnerable, and the Undersiders had mostly just been trying to get me to back off, not really hurt me. A lot worse things could happen.

I started to open my mouth to answer when I saw movement flicker in the corner of my vision. I looked down and saw a big black rat walk right up to Assault, tapping at his calf with a little paw. I closed my mouth, reminded of the real reason I hadn’t joined the Wards. The Master. I didn’t know what I could do against him, but I was better farther than closer.

“Rat Race wants us to regr-” Assault started, but I interrupted him before he could finish.

“I have to go,” I said, and turned around. I stopped after a few steps and looked over my shoulder. “Thanks for the blanket.”

They didn’t follow me, and I walked all the way home, still wrapped in the blanket, too unnerved to try to use my Breaker state.

September 2010

I wish I could’ve said that the fight against the Undersiders made me bounce back stronger, that it made me think of some new way to use my powers or change my approach to taking down enemies, but it didn’t.

I didn’t go out as Skitter for awhile after that. It felt kind of pointless after getting my ass kicked so badly, and not even being able to make up for it by helping Shadow Stalker. Plus, I was going back to school soon, and the anniversary of Mom’s death was coming up, so I had other things to think about.

Dad didn’t seem all that upset this year, but he did want to talk about Mom. He told me some old stories about her, some stories from before I was born, but there was just something sort of weird about it all. It threw me off that I was more uneasy than sad, which was probably a good thing because it seemed that Emma was planning on using Mom against me this year.

It was little stuff at first, so subtle that I almost didn’t realize it was bullying at first, not until the comments really started getting directed at me. Girls talking about their moms turned into little snips about me being an orphan, which didn’t hurt because it wasn’t true, but then they started saying things like Dad blamed me for Mom’s death, which was a little too real.

I’d thought about it, of course. Mom died texting while driving, and I hadn’t been where I was supposed to be. I couldn’t really remember the details, even though that was definitely something I should remember. I’d been twelve, though, I told myself. I’d been dumb, not having dealt with all this cape stuff yet. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder.

It made me not want to talk about Mom with Dad so much, but I didn’t really tell him that until Emma’s big move.

I’d been leaving class when the Trio and their posse cornered me against a row of lockers. They’d acted like they were ignoring me at first, talking like I wasn’t there, but I still noticed when their heads turned, and their words were directed right at me, blending and bouncing off each other until they morphed into some real nasty insults.

“Your dad hates you,” Emma said, an almost victorious smile on her face. “He wishes you’d never been born.”

I knew that wasn’t true, but it still hurt to hear.

I must have reacted, though, because Emma ran with it, pushing the point in even deeper. “What’s the matter, Taylor? You look upset. So upset you’re going to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week?”

That hit like a punch to the gut. It was… I don’t know. It was a reminder of the worst week of my life, and the beginning of the hell my life had become. More than that, it was a reminder of what Emma and I had once had, and a reminder that she was ready and willing to use it against me.

Then Sophia, out of nowhere, pulled the rug out from under the whole operation. “Your dad’s lying to you.”

The welling of grief died in my throat as shock spread through my body. Had I heard that right? She’d been quiet until now, hanging toward the back of the group. Maybe…

“You know it's true,” Sophia went on, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How did she…? “He’s been hiding something, and you know there’s something wrong. He’s distracted, out late at night… There’s someone else, or maybe your mom never really left.”

I shivered. The presence in the house, whatever was going on with Dad… That’s what she was talking about. It was too specific to be a coincidence. It came out of nowhere, but somehow, she’d perfectly pinpointed everything that had been plaguing me for the past year and a half.

My hands itched.

“You don’t know, but it’s making you go insane.”

The last word struck a chord in me. She knew. Somehow, she knew. How did she know?

The other girls were looking at her, even Emma, and I got the idea this wasn’t part of their plan. Something was compelling Sophia to say this, and it wasn’t my ex-best friend.

The Master. It couldn’t have been anything else. School hadn’t been a haven, exactly, but with home tainted by him, it had been an escape since I wasn’t going out as Skitter anymore. But he’d followed me here, and he’d infected my bullies to do it.

I ran before I could explode into bugs and really drive the last nail into my coffin.

Chapter Text

June 2010

Skitter was a useful ally to have, but she was more of a Madison than a Sophia. She wasn’t a true predator, but Sophia’s work at school was far more effective with people like Madison backing her up, and Shadow Stalker was far more effective with someone like Skitter to help her find her prey.

Sometimes a predator just had to do her own thing, though.

The Empire goons seemed to get the idea after the first couple days of summer beak, and Sophia had a lot harder of a time finding them after that, so she switched targets. She didn’t feel quite right beating up Merchants, but the docks could always use some cleaning up, so the ABB it was.

She was deviating from her usual patrol routes, so Sophia knew Skitter probably wouldn’t be able to find her if she went looking, but Sophia didn’t feel all that bad. Skitter would be there on slow nights or when she wanted harder targets. For now, she was relishing in just cutting loose a bit.

Sophia really felt like she was in the zone, like the cape version of runner’s high. Normally, she still got hit a few times, but Sophia felt like she really had her timing down on using her Breaker state. Slip into it to avoid taking a blow, solidify just in time for her crossbow bolts to land, kick and shift to glide onto the rooftops…

It was a surprise when rats suddenly cut off her path, but not as much of a surprise when she turned and saw Rat Race, Geode, Satyrical, and Velocity leaping onto the roof behind her. It wasn’t the most unusual thing to run into a Protectorate member here and there, but four was a lot. Then again, Rat Race, Geode, and Satyrical were practically conjoined at the hip. This was basically the same as running into two Protectorate capes.

“What gives?” Sophia asked, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at them from behind her mask, when none of them said anything. “Another recruitment effort?”

Usually, they had Assault and Miss Militia talk to her when they were on another one of their kicks. Maybe they were realizing Sophia wasn’t one for the goodie two-shoes types. None of these four was really the type of cape Sophia had any interest in, though. Geode was a pretty cookie-cutter cape, Velocity was basically a lackey, Rat Race sold out whatever cool factor his powers and costume could have given him with his soft PR campaign, and Satyrical… Sophia didn’t really know that much about him. 

Now that she was thinking about it, if anyone was going to convince her to join the Wards, which they weren’t, Sophia thought Satyrical might be the best bet. She’d seen on PHO that he used to be a performer, but she’s also heard that the Vegas team were more anti-heroes than heroes in the traditional sense. They got their hands dirty, and Sophia could respect that.

Plus, as far as Sophia knew, Satyrical was one of two people on the Brockton Bay Protectorate team who wasn’t white. Miss Militia would have been alright if she didn’t plaster herself with American flags. Sure, Sophia got the symbolism behind an immigrant wearing the American flag, but in Brockton Bay? Screamed assimilation to her. Was that the right word? Some geek like Hebert would probably be able to write a whole essay on the need to be accepted by white people.

Wait, Hebert was white too. She wouldn’t get it. Satyrical maybe got it though. He was from Vegas, right? Sophia didn’t know much about the demographics there, but there weren’t a lot of brown people who moved into Brockton Bay. He had to be sort of racially aware, right?

It wasn’t Satyrical who spoke first, though. It was Rat Race. “You killed a man.”

What? Sophia’s thoughts were thrown from pondering Wards’ recruitment efforts, how annoyingly useless the Brockton Bay Protectorate was in actually helping the city, and staring at Satyrical’s bare chest, to trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

“You fought some ABB members tonight,” Geode said, taking over. Sophia nodded before she realized her neck was moving. She could feel just how slack her face was under her mask. “You shot two of them with aluminum stakes. You nailed one of them to a wall. That’s pretty brutal, Shadow Stalker.”

Shadow Stalker wanted to argue that they were crooks. That they were gangbangers, thieves, and just all-around bad people. The Empire was the true scum of the city, but the ABB and Merchants were still bugs that deserved to be crushed, and Shadow Stalker was the one hunting them, not the Protectorate. She was making a difference by stopping them, not the capes who were too busy posing in front of the cameras. The men she’d fought were prey, and she was the hunter. The Protectorate was just a bunch of preening show birds.

The words died in her throat alongside the anger she felt, a more pressing emotion welling up in Sophia’s throat. It was hard to identify what it was, but once she did, she couldn’t ignore it.

Fear. Rat Race had said she killed one of them. Vigilantism was a crime, sure, but the Protectorate looked the other way for that. They always did. It was too similar to what they did. But murder? They wouldn’t ignore that.

There were four men on this rooftop with her, plus a bunch of rats, and Sophia was sure Satyrical had clones in the area. Could she escape them? Her shadow state made escape easy, but two Masters and a Mover would be hard to lose, and they had another Breaker with them, which meant there was no chance Sophia was winning a head-on fight either. Sophia wasn’t making it off this rooftop on her own.

“What’s- what’s going to happen?” Sophia asked, and she hated how weak her voice came out. She’d felt so strong just a moment ago, but right now, she felt anything but.

“Right now? You used parahuman abilities to take a human life. We have to arrest you,” Velocity told her, and Sophia fought off the urge to just activate her Breaker state and just run right then and there. It would be stupid, she knew, but the temptation was hard to resist. “You have rights, though, so long-term? It depends on how your trial goes.”

Trial? Oh, god, they were going to tell her mom, weren’t they? She was going to go to jail, and then… Sophia couldn’t even think that far ahead, but very, very rapidly, her whole vision of her future was collapsing.

She could not get arrested. Her chances were slim, but Sophia could move pretty fast and hide into places that were hard to find… Not faster than Velocity, and not sneaky enough to hide from Rat Race’s rats, but a slim chance was better than no chance, and that was what being arrested meant.

Sophia was about a second away from making a break for it when Satyrical spoke up.

“We know you’re a hero. We want to do what we can to help you,” Satyrical said, and that sounded like a load of crap, but there was just something about the way he said it. “You have to know what you did was pretty bad, though. That means you have two options: you run, we arrest you, and we have to report that you ran, or you surrender now, and we still arrest you, but we’re in a better spot to advocate for you. It’s your choice.”

Sophia stared at him. His eyes were visible through his mask, she realized. It was hard to notice, given how distracting the open chest of his costume was, but the eyes of his mask were just holes, no lenses or visor. His gaze was sort of flat, not giving Sophia much to read into, but it was something. His eyes were there. They were warm and alive, and that was more than Sophia could say for her future, but it was also more than she could say for the man she’d killed.

His eyes were grounding, but they weren’t kind or soft. That meant they weren’t deceptive either, though, which Sophia counted as a boon more than anything. This was a man who was telling it to her straight. If she tries to run for it, he’d hunt her down. But if she didn’t…

It wasn’t really accepting help. It was taking advantage of her situation the best she could, right? But right now, having some help didn’t really sound all that bad.

Sophia hadn’t really kept up with Emma since school let out, and she’d been pretty uninvolved in her cape life since Skitter came along, but Emma still answered Sophia’s call and convinced her dad to represent her for Shadow Stalker’s case. It was a little pathetic how easily she agreed, but Sophia knew she wasn’t in a position to complain. Her mom couldn’t afford a real lawyer, and Sophia didn’t want to take one of the free ones the PRT offered. Alan was her best chance of getting out of here.

Sophia’s mom visited Sophia’s cell the following morning, but that was the only real human interaction Sophia got for what felt like days outside of PRT agents bringing her meals and instructing her to do things like bathe or change clothes. Triumph and Armsmaster came by once, but Sophia didn’t really want to talk to them, so she didn’t.

It was boring as hell, but it gave Sophia time to think. Or, time to simmer. In hindsight, she was feeling pretty confident she could have made a run for it. Sure, she’d be labeled as a criminal, but she was innocent until proven guilty, right? Satyrical had said she was a hero, and Sophia still believed that. So what if the Protectorate was too cowardly to really clean up the streets? Even if she had killed a gang member, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Sophia’s tune changed when her trial date finally arrived.

It was pretty quick, in the grand scheme of things at least. Private for the most part, but not totally limited to the PRT building. They were at a real courthouse with a real judge and a real jury. Sophia hadn’t wanted one, but Alan advised that she had better chances with a jury than a bench trial. Juries were selected near-randomly, whereas the judge had been chosen by the PRT. So, Sophia was unmasked and handcuffed in front of a bunch of civilians, which just made her simmer even more.

There were still a good amount of PRT agents present at all times, and there were some capes rotating in and out. Triumph, Aegis, and Miss Militia were there quite a bit, and Battery and Assault appeared more than the others, but Sophia never saw Armsmaster or any of the capes she’d encountered that night until it was time for them to speak.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do,” Rat Race answered, and Sophia leaned back in her chair. They’d already asked her perspective on what happened that night. Whatever Rat Race had to say was just going to be a repetition of what she had to say about her arrest.

Evidently, that wasn’t true.

“My power includes the ability to see out of my rats’ eyes,” Rat Race explained when prompted. “I saw the whole thing.”

That made Sophia’s stomach clench in fear a bit, but she shoved the feeling down. A witness wasn’t any better than a camera. It was worse, actually.

But it turned out Rat Race had written down what he remembered from that night, and he could use his rats to recreate what he had a hard time describing. The rats didn’t have weapons or anything, but Sophia, her mom, the jury, and everyone else in the court clearly saw how Rat Race saw what had happened. Swooping off a rooftop, ambushing a group of crooks, tearing through the group like she hadn’t been fighting half a dozen grown men…

…Nailing one of them to the wall with her crossbow bolt.

Sophia thought the recreation of the fight was rather flattering, even if it was a little eerie, but Rat Race couldn’t recreate the whole scene, and the way he described it was far from flattering.

“She shot him from at most ten feet. The main part of the fight was in the middle of the alley, and the man was kind of halfway between her and the wall,” Rat Race explained, the rats on the table moving to show what he meant. “Shadow Stalker was in her Breaker state, and the gang members were all around her. I only saw her fire her crossbow since the rats are so low to the ground.”

That meant they were pretty close, right? Sophia had been too busy fighting to pay attention to stuff like that, but she had to think that meant Rat Race could have been watching her at any time. Skitter had some aversion to him and always warned her when she sensed the rats. Maybe this all could have been avoided if Sophia had brought her along that night.

“It was so fast, too. She fired the crossbow between two gang members, then she went solid just for a second to jump over the people surrounding her, and the crossbow bolt went solid and hit the guy in the shoulder. Then, while she was still in the air, she fired two more times and hit him in the shoulders,” Rat Race went on. “I told Battery what I saw around then, and I focused more on getting to the fight, so my memory of the rest of the fight is pretty hazy, but the man was still nailed to the wall when we arrived.”

Rat Race described what it looked like, that Battery had realized the man wasn’t breathing, and how the two weren’t sure what to do. They’d assumed the crossbow bolt had hit a major artery, but they hadn’t been sure if they should try removing it and risk further blood loss or attempt CPR with the man still upright. For a moment, Sophia felt a spark of hope, hope that Rat Race and Battery had messed something up, and she could make some kind of negligence claim and say they were actually responsible for the man’s death, but Rat Race said a dispatcher had talked them through what to do, which meant that idea was out.

“I can’t believe you really did that,” her mom told her when they broke for the day, and Sophia was back in her cell. “You’re so… violent.”

“That’s what being a hero is, Mom,” Sophia responded, unable to keep her annoyance out of her voice. What did her mom think was happening? “Stopping the bad guys means fighting.”

Her mom shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

She didn’t elaborate, and Sophia didn’t really want her to. Her mom was just another person who didn’t get it, and that was nothing new.

She didn’t end up in juvie, so that was something, but she had to join the Wards, which was sort of expected, but Sophia was still far from thrilled about. At least it meant she could still be Shadow Stalker.

Only, not really. She got shipped from her holding cell to California almost immediately. 

It was a thing, apparently. All the capes and PRT officials in the courthouse had known what people meant when they referred to the Wards Training School, but Alan had to get clarification for her. It was, as the name indicated, a training program for new Wards run by the San Diego and Los Angeles Protectorate teams. Most new Wards attended voluntarily during their first summer after joining the Wards, but there was a special emergency version for probationary Wards.

Triumph, being the current leader of the Brockton Bay team, explained it to her. He said it was what made him ready to really be a hero, but Sophia really didn’t care what he had to say. She was sure the program she was being put in was going to be nothing like the one Triumph was in.

She knew she was right when the PRT agents stopped calling it “Wards Training School” and started calling it “Alexandria’s boot camp.”

Upon arrival, Sophia was immediately put in the care of a parahuman trainer named Maven. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, which was normally something Sophia appreciated, but she kind of wished there was something to soften the landing before she was thrown into it.

“You’re two weeks late to the program, and the probationary Wards have a more intense regimen,” he told her, flipping through a clipboard instead of looking at her. “You have vigilante and athletic experience, so you’re not that far behind, but you’re skipping the social activities, and you’re reading during breaks until you’re caught up.”

Sophia was fine with that, or at least she thought she was. Maven had her join the other Wards in the obstacle courses before even getting the chance to dump her stuff where she’d be staying. She excelled at first, but Sophia quickly learned it was just because she’d joined partway through the day, and these people had already been at it for hours. They were tired, whereas she was arriving fresh. She lost the edge she had over the others pretty quickly.

It was a lot of the same over the next few weeks. Drills, races through obstacle courses, lectures on cape politics, crash courses on parahuman science, reading through PRT files, quizzes on policy… The Wards also got social breaks, casual evenings, chances to network, and explore their powers a little more creatively, but Sophia got pulled out of those, getting rushed versions of the lessons she’d missed, and then, once she was caught up, specialized lectures and readings about her probation conditions.

It was dumb. There was no way Sophia was actually going to be following all those rules, but she had to pay attention, or they’d never let her leave this place, though there came a point where Sophia stopped thinking about returning to Brockton Bay and started thinking more about joining the other Wards.

She didn’t want to socialize. She didn’t care about making friends or chattering about her powers. She still wasn’t dumb enough to notice that the isolation wasn’t wearing on her.

When the time came that Sophia could finally join those social hours, she realized she didn’t know anyone’s name.

One person knew hers, though. “Shadow Stalker, right?”

It was a little nice to be recognized, though she didn’t really care for the person who’d done so. He was around Sophia’s age and had sort of a generic boyish look. Like many of the Wards, he had given up on wearing a mask before Sophia arrived. California summers, drills, and wearing something on your face were not a good combination.

Sophia thought she’d be able to tough it out in a mask, but she knew maybe it was a little arrogant of her. Still, she wished she’d at least had the opportunity to see if she could. Probationary Wards weren’t allowed to hide their identities from anyone but the public, so she’d been bare-faced the whole time.

“You a fan?” Sophia asked, smirking a bit. She sort of hoped the boy would be, or maybe that he’d get a little flustered, but he just shrugged.

“I guess. I’m from Brockton Bay, too. Kid Win!” the boy said, grinning widely and pointing at himself. Sophia wanted to groan. That meant she couldn’t just ignore this kid. She was going to have to work with him after they left this place.

He chattered a bit about this and that, people he’d met and things he’d learned, but the question came eventually. Sophia knew it would.

“What made you decide to join the Wards?” Kid Win asked, and there was something just so annoyingly genuine about it, like he actually cared. Lame. “I mean, they had you in the catch-up courses forever. I’m surprised you wanted to come this year instead of just waiting until next year. I joined in January, but the team said I should wait until the summer program to come here so I could make friends.”

“I didn’t choose to join the Wards,” Sophia snapped, and that was the first time she’d been able to say that to anyone here. “It was this or prison.”

Kid Win’s expression rapidly shifted, eyes going wide with shock. He didn’t say anything, but Sophia could still hear the question.

“I killed an ABB member,” Sophia told him, and Kid Win didn’t really try to talk to her after that.

August 2010

Sophia thought she’d have a little more freedom when she got sent back to Brockton Bay, but she went right from one babysitter to another.

At least Satyrical was sort of cooler than Maven.

He was waiting for her in the PRT van garage when she arrived. He wore his classic costume, complete with the goat mask and exposed chest, which Brockton Bay hadn’t really had the weather for until recently. Unlike most other heroes, Satyrical had an adapted version of his costume for different types of weather. Why he was so committed to the exposed chest, Sophia didn’t know, but she sort of appreciated it. He was a good-looking guy.

She tried to dial it back mentally when he removed his mask.

“I’m Mateo,” Satyrical introduced, grinning a bit at her. “I’m going to be mentoring you.”

He was a little older than Sophia expected, maybe in his mid to late thirties. Old enough that Sophia felt weird about oggling him, but it was a little easier not to once he had his mask off. He felt more like a real person like that. He was friendly, but not overly so, and got straight to business for the most part, showing her around the PRT base and explaining what being on the team would look like for her.

It wasn’t anything that new. Sophia had been to the Wards base on a tour before, and her probation conditions outlined the timeline for immersing herself into the team, but it did sort of help to have someone explain it all.

Sophia was surprised when Satyrical just let her go after a couple hours. This wasn’t boot camp anymore, she reminded herself. It wasn’t all intensity all the time. They were easing her into being a hero again, and that meant Sophia had most of what was left of her summer back.

She knew she should probably go see Emma first, but Sophia was more curious about what PHO had to say about her new teammates than about watching Emma pretend she hadn’t been worried about her.

Sophia was no stranger to PHO, so most of the stuff online wasn’t new. Summaries of Armsmaster’s cape career, how Miss Militia had been an inaugural Ward, analysis of Dauntless’s surge in strength over the past few years, debates over whether Velocity was faster than some other speedster, old posts wondering where Platinum had been before he came out as Geode, that kind of thing.

Rat Race and Pretender, being newer capes, didn’t have a ton of information online. Armsmaster had said they had more supportive powers when they’d made their first public appearance, so it wasn’t too surprising, and most of the posts about them were just speculation. Sophia had looked at some of them before, mostly after Skitter had told her about her aversion to Rat Race. Sophia couldn’t really remember what she’d said, but it was worth trying to figure out.

Satyrical’s pages weren’t all that interesting. Most of the posts on the Brockton Bay thread were speculation about why he’d transferred from the Vegas team or people explaining why they thought he was or wasn’t dating Geode.

The posts on the Vegas thread were a little more interesting.

Sophia had read a little about the Vegas team when Satyrical and Floret were helping out with the rat swarms before she’d gotten powers herself. The Vegas team operated a little differently, which Sophia had sort of forgotten about. A lot of them were performers, Satyr and Floret among them, but there were a lot of rumors that they walked the line between hero and… well, Sophia wouldn’t say they were criminals, but the dynamic between heroes and criminals was just different in Vegas, apparently.

Sophia understood why the PRT would want Satyr to mentor Sophia then. She was a criminal in their eyes, and she thought maybe Satyr was too.

Most of the posts about Satyr didn’t actually talk about those kinds of things. He’d been a popular hero in the late 90s, so most of the posts explicitly about him were just people talking about his older exploits or, again, speculating if he’d dated Geode, then-Platinum. He was an openly gay cape, which was a little uncommon but not unheard of. A lot of capes were queer, Sophia had learned at boot camp, but not many Protectorate members were public about it.

Maybe more reason to stop staring at his chest. Sophia was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it for a lot of reasons, but this was just the nail in the coffin.

Some older posts credited Satyr for taking down a few gangs over the years, and a lot of the other Vegas capes commended him when discussing major villain takedowns. He had been a cape for a long time, so it made sense he had some big wins, but it was still nice to know the hero that Sophia would be working with the most was one who actually did stuff.

Still, it was hard to just focus on those kinds of posts and ignore all the ones speculating about his personal life.

Sophia didn’t really want to ask, but after a few weeks of training and meeting all the other heroes in Brockton Bay, Sophia thought it wouldn’t be totally inappropriate to ask Satyr if he was dating Geode.

To her surprise, he just laughed.

Sophia couldn’t help but let her expression sour a bit at that. “It’s a real question! Basically, every post on PHO about you is about you and Geode!”

Satyr kept laughing, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. He was theatrical like that, which was one of Sophia’s least favorite characteristics about him, but at least he could turn it off quickly. “Sorry. I’m laughing because it just never occurred to me to tell you. I’m Geode.”

…What? “What?”

Sophia mentally ran through all the posts she’d seen about Satyr and Geode. There were plenty of photos of the two of them together, and even more from the 90s. Satyrical couldn’t be serious. Over a decade of evidence said otherwise.

Satyr repeated it, though. “I’m Geode.”

Sophia just stared at him until Satyr started to change.

It was sort of slow for a few seconds, Satyr’s facial features melting and morphing into something new, but the rest of him changed more rapidly, his skin turning a green-blue and his costume twisting into a new shape and color. One moment Sophia was looking at Satyr, and the next she was looking at Geode.

“You’re a shapeshifter,” Sophia realized aloud, the dots connecting in her mind. “You used your duplication power to create another cape.”

“Pretty much,” Satyr said, morphing back into his usual self. “It’s not that dramatic. I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

Sophia willed herself not to make a face about that.

“I’m actually just one half of Geode,” Satyr explained. “Platinum was real, but she, um, died.”

Okay, Sophia was sure Satyrical was messing with her now.

“Pretender is actually- wait, hold on. Do you know who Diamond is?” Satyrical asked, and Sophia shook her head. She did not. “Diamond was one of Lustrum’s gang members. She tried to kill Tommy and Danny—you know, Pretender and Rat Race—like… I don’t know, twenty years ago? Pretender took control of her body, and he just piloted her body as Platinum until the body died a couple years ago.”

What the hell? “I thought Pretender had some sort of boosting ability.”

Satyr looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on his face. “Armsmaster made that up. We didn’t want the public to know he had a possession power. I forgot about that, to be honest. We should probably do something with that soon…”

Okay, the Protectorate lied about one of their members’ powers. Not the worst thing. But Pretender’s actual powers? “That’s kind of fucked up.”

“What part of it?” 

All of it. “That Pretender used someone else’s body for so long. And that you’re still using it after she’s dead.”

“Not literally, but yeah,” Satyrtircal agreed. “It is kind of fucked up, if you think about it, but a lot of parahuman shit is. Pretender didn’t know he had powers until Pla- um, Diamond died, though, and his powers aren’t super combat-oriented, so we thought combining our powers was the best option. I don’t use my shapeshifting power publicly, so it is kind of cool getting to be Geode sometimes. We take turns.”

It made sense. In theory, Satyr could use his powers to make dozens of fake cape identities. Could he mimic powers? It looked like the Geode clone had its old powers, but Breaker/Changer/Brute powers were probably easy for another parahuman to fake. If Satyr could mimic more than that…

“Pretender and I are just friends, by the way,” Satyr said, and it took Sophia a beat to remember her original question. She’d been wondering if Satyr and Geode were together. That was about the farthest thing from the forefront of her mind now, though. “If things went a little differently, I could see us working out, but Pretender married Rat Race before we met, and they’re good together.”

That was a little surprising, but Sophia saw it later when she worked with the Protectorate a little more. Pretender was around the base a lot, but Rat Race had a civilian life, supposedly, and his powers were most useful working in the background. Sophia was sort of glad she wasn’t around them together all that much. Thinking about the whole identity paradox was a waste of her attention, and there was something about the two of them that felt familiar, but she just couldn’t place. It was a little annoying, enough to warrant avoiding them.

It ended up being relevant to Sophia’s life pretty soon, though.

School resumed in September, and Sophia wasn’t transferring to Arcadia, which meant updating Winslow on the Shadow Stalker situation.

Sophia would have preferred to keep her identity a secret, but she didn’t have much of a choice, given her probation and all. Arcadia staff knew the other Wards’ identities, so it wasn’t like she was getting singled out, but it all still kind of pissed her off that she didn’t get a say in all this.

Still, it was sort of cool seeing the hidden corridors in the building that she could use to get out of school. They were meant to only be used if her cape persona got called away on a mission, but Sophia was already thinking about other ways she could use them. It wasn’t like any of the teachers were roaming around the hidden hallways anyway. It was the perfect little getaway.

The PRT agents took over briefing Principal Blackwell, and Satyrical pulled Sophia away to do some practice drills, timing how well she could get from her classrooms to a checkpoint outside without getting spotted by his clones.

Satyrical didn’t seem all that into it, though. Sophia thought maybe he just didn’t like babysitting her, but it was a little out of character for him. “You good?”

Satyr seemed to jolt from his thoughts. “Yeah. I was just thinking.”

Sophia just looked at him, waiting for him to volunteer the information on his own.

“One of my other students goes to school here,” Satyr told her easily, and that was news to Sophia. She didn’t know Satyr trained anyone else. “Danny and Tommy’s daughter. She’s got a bit of a bullying problem, so I started teaching her self-defense last year.”

It suddenly clicked in Sophia’s mind. Rat Race and Pretender. Danny and Tommy Hebert. That was what felt familiar about them. Their last name. Hebert. Like that whelp Emma liked pushing around.

Sophia wasn’t going to be avoiding Pretender and Rat Race anymore, then. She was sure she could learn something to make Taylor’s return to school a little more interesting this year…

September 2010

Sophia preferred the physical stuff, but Emma wanted to do something more psychological. The anniversary of Taylor’s mom’s death, or “death,” as Sophia now knew, was coming up, and Emma wanted to weaponize that.

It was little comments, mostly Emma telling the underlings to say little things when Taylor was around. Talk about their own mothers, call Taylor an orphan, say her dad blamed her for her mother’s death, that kind of thing. Not very interesting, in Sophia’s opinion, but she knew this wasn’t really her kind of thing. Emma said it would wear her down, and Sophia trusted her judgment.

Emma’s big move was to corner Taylor, pretend like she wasn’t there, and whip out the worst of it. Sophia went along, but it was just so… boring. Taylor barely looked affected by it. Affected, sure, but not really in any satisfying way.

Emma seemed happy about it, though. “What’s the matter, Taylor? You look upset. So upset you’re going to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week?”

The way she said it, Sophia was pretty sure that was Emma’s big move. How disappointing. What the hell was that? It must’ve meant something, because Taylor’s lip started to wobble a bit, but, really, it was nothing.

Sophia had been quiet until now, letting Emma take the lead, but she shouldn’t have left it all up to a snivelling wannabe predator. Sophia was the real deal. 

She hadn’t really wanted to say it yet, but it just kind of slipped out, and Sophia couldn’t have been happier with the results.

“Your dad’s lying to you.”

Taylor’s expression rapidly flipped from a vague, general sort of upset look to straight terror. Sophia felt the corner of her lips tug into a smile. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“You know it's true,” Sophia went on, and she could tell the other girls were turning to look at her, thrown off by the sudden change in the rhythm. Emma tried to catch her eye, but Sophia just kept talking. “He’s been hiding something, and you know there’s something wrong. He’s distracted, out late at night… There’s someone else, or maybe your mom never really left. You don’t know, but it’s making you go insane.”

It was a little bit of a stab in the dark, but Sophia had overheard Rat Race telling Miss Militia about some of his worries over Taylor’s mental health. It wasn’t hard for Sophia to paint the fuller picture with what Satyrical had told her.

It seemed like she was pretty accurate, too. Taylor’s expression crumbled, visible for just a moment before she was hiding her face in her arms, pushing through the group, and running off into the halls.

“What was that?” Emma demanded, and Sophia could tell she was a little spooked, too.

“I know how to crush prey,” Sophia responded and didn’t elaborate. 

Some of the other girls tried to copy Sophia’s comments later on, but they weren’t really accurate, and they weren’t really close to the truth. Still, Sophia could tell they were getting to Taylor a bit. Things like her dad having a secret girlfriend, that Taylor was insane, that her mom’s ghost was haunting her because she knew how pathetic she was, that kind of thing.

Sophia thought they were overdoing it a bit. She tried to save her comments for the moments they’d do the most damage.

It was a little fun at first, but it did get boring pretty quickly. Sophia saw the appeal in the more psychological approach, though. She still preferred to stick to the classic stuff, but the brief stint in the mental stuff gave her some inspiration for some really clever pranks.

That locker stunt was probably her best work yet. 

Or at least it was until it wasn’t.

Chapter Text

June 2010

The Brockton Bay team was pretty different from the Vegas team, and Satyr didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing.

In Vegas, everyone had collateral assignments. They had patrol schedules and meetings, sure, but most of their time was spent gathering intel and rooting themselves into Vegas’s underbelly, usually by infiltrating criminal organizations or by making appearances in the show world. Integrating themselves into the light and dark versions of Vegas, they would say.

Most of them didn’t really have lives outside of the Protectorate.

That was what was different in Brockton Bay. They were all still career capes, save for Danny, but Dauntless and the then-Platinum had families, and Velocity, Assault, and Battery tried maintaining social lives outside of the Protectorate. Armsmaster and Miss Militia, not so much, but Miss Militia was still a pretty well-rounded person, and Armsmaster wasn’t that bad of a guy once you got to know him.

Vegas was capelife all the time. Brockton Bay was, in a way, but at least they had designated shifts and patrol times.

Tonight was one of the rare nights they were all on shift, though that didn’t mean they were all patrolling. Rat Race and Battery were out by the docks, and Velocity was patrolling with one of the Wards around the Towers. Both pairs were scheduled to switch out in another hour. That left Pretender, Dauntless, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Assault with Satyrical back at the base.

Armsmaster was in his lab because of course he was, but Satyr and Pretender had managed to convince the rest of them to hang out with them in the break room for a round of cards. Or, well, convinced Miss Militia and Dauntless. Assault hung out with them most nights. He wasn’t really one to pass on the opportunity for some fun.

Dauntless and Miss Militia weren’t really dedicated card players like the ex-Vegas capes were, though. They were more interested in talking, making a lot of them get distracted and miss their turns, which was a little annoying, but it made it easier to cheat, so Satyr didn’t really care all that much.

“How are things with Taylor?” Dauntless asked once they’d all settled into the game. “It’s been, what? Almost two years now? I thought you’d be back home by now.”

“Me too,” Pretender groaned. “Danny and I were working on it a bit, but it’s just kind of one thing after another. You know, Danny’s health issues, then establishing Rat Race and Pretender as capes, then we found out Taylor was getting bullied… We tried having me spend some time with her, so we could break it to her softly, but I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Satyr told him, even though he was pretty sure Taylor hated Pretender too.

Pretender ignored him. “I know there’s never going to be a good time, but we just kind of waited too long, I think, and it’s going to be so much worse now. Danny says Taylor’s been kind of, uh, reserved lately, and she’s not really talking to him, so we’re hoping summer camp will be good for her, and we’ll be able to start figuring things out with her before school starts.”

Satyr and Assault had heard this all before, and so had Miss Militia, but it was new to Dauntless, apparently. Satyr hadn’t really thought about how living off-base affected stuff like that, how involved they were in each other’s personal lives. Then again, Satyr wasn’t certain he even knew the last names of all his old teammates back in Vegas.

They chatted about it a bit before the radio sitting on the table between them crackled to life.

“Console to on-call Protectorate.”

They all fumbled for their comms, making sure they were all in place. Miss Militia, ever prepared, answered the call. “Go for Miss Militia.”

“We’re deploying you. Armsmaster, Satyrical, Pretender, Assault, and Miss Militia go to the docks. Velocity is already en route. Dauntless, you’re taking over his patrol.”

They were all on their feet, heading for the garage before the dispatcher was finished talking. Satyr’s heart thrummed in his chest, half in excitement, half with unease. The whole team was getting deployed. No Wards, which could be a good or bad sign.

“What happened?” Pretender demanded as Satyr threw him a chunk of flesh that would soon grow into a clone for him to possess. Better to get started on that now. It was kind of gross, but Pretender didn’t complain, merely palming it as he continued to run.

“Assault and Miss Militia are on damage control. Satyrical and Pretender, you’re supporting Velocity and searching for a fleeing parahuman.” A pause. “Shadow Stalker fought a few ABB members. Three were on the scene when Battery and Rat Race arrived. One unconscious, one injured, and one currently receiving CPR.”

CPR? That meant the person wasn’t breathing. Why… Oh, an explanation for why Battery and Rat Race weren’t talking. Satyr couldn’t sense any relief from Pretender and Assault, but he was sure they were relieved to know their spouses were alright. Still, not a great situation. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction for a vigilante parahuman that couldn’t have a rating higher than Breaker 3 or 4, but Satyr understood why the PRT would want a lid put on this quickly.

Armsmaster’s motorcycle was already gone when the rest of the Protectorate arrived in the garage. Miss Militia and Assault hopped in one van, and Dauntless took another while Satyrical headed for a motorcycle. Pretender hesitated for a moment before tossing the half-formed Geode clone into the van after Miss Militia and Assault and jumping on the back of the bike Satyrical was on.

“Have it come find us once it's formed,” Pretender instructed as Satyr peeled out of the garage. “I figured we’d be more productive if I possessed you or Velocity and helped the other take directions from the rats.”

It was a good plan, and one they’d used before. Satyr, Rat Race, Pretender, and Velocity’s powers meshed together well, perfect for searching large areas. Not something they had to do all that often, and not actually all that helpful in combat, but there was a reason they’d been deployed the way they were. Hopefully, they’d be able to find Shadow Stalker before too long. 

They found Velocity pretty quickly, a few rats already perched on the man. He waved the pair down and called out, “I don’t think the rats have eyes on her, but I think I’m in the right area.”

Pretender slid off the back of the motorcycle and scooped a rat off the ground. As far as Satyr knew, Pretender couldn’t actually communicate with them the way Danny could when he wasn’t possessing his husband’s body, but Satyr got the idea that he could take cues from them better than Satyr or Velocity could.

“Velocity, head a few blocks over, and you and Satyr can work toward each other,” Pretender ordered. “I’ll go Geode as soon as I can and see if I can direct you over comms.”

Velocity sped off, and Satyr got to work making more clones to help the search. The Geode clone found them fairly quickly, and Pretender took possession of it, running off to find more rats.

“EMTs took over,” Rat Race said over comms, patching into the channel the search team was using. “I’m heading over now to help you guys.”

Rat Race rattled off the areas his rats had checked. As Pretender had instructed, they were closing in on a more central area, and they’d been at work long enough that they had to be getting pretty close. Of course, it was possible Shadow Stalker wasn’t in the area or that she was hidden somewhere they’d missed, but Satyr was feeling pretty confident.

The rats spotted her running along a rooftop. Satyr had a clone keep eyes on her, letting the rest of the Protectorate capes regroup and confront her together.

They sent the rats in first, cutting off her path. Shadow Stalker didn’t seem particularly alarmed, but she stopped all the same and turned to see Satyr, Geode, Velocity, and Rat Race on the roof behind her. Almost complaining, she asked, “What gives?”

She didn’t know what happened, Satyr realized. She wasn’t fleeing. She was just continuing with her patrol.

“You killed a man,” Rat Race said, incredibly tactlessly. Shadow Stalker froze, and Geode and Velocity stepped forward to take over the conversation.

Satyr and Rat Race hung back, and Satyr realized Rat Race was a little more shaken than he’d let on when they’d first met up with him. Right. New cape. Newer, at least. Family man. Didn’t live a soft life, exactly, but it was a real possibility that this was the first time Danny had seen a dead body, assuming the ABB member really had died. Satyr hadn’t heard anything over comms, but Rat Race would know better than he did.

Shadow Stalker seemed pretty rattled, too, actually. It was hard to tell behind her hockey mask, but Satyr became very abruptly aware that this was a teenage girl. He’d sort of been aware of the fact, but he’d only really seen her in passing before now. Right here, right now, on a nighttime rooftop between four grown men, Satyr realized just how small she was. Not tiny, but very much still a kid. Taylor’s age, probably.

“We know you’re a hero. We want to do what we can to help you,” Satyr said, stepping forward. “You have to know what you did was pretty bad, though. That means you have two options: you run, we arrest you, and we have to report that you ran, or you surrender now, and we still arrest you, but we’re in a better spot to advocate for you. It’s your choice.”

Satyr knew he wasn’t exactly gentle, but he knew it was what Shadow Stalker needed to hear right now. She surrendered, let Velocity snap a pair of handcuffs on her, and let Geode direct her into the back of a PRT van.

Armsmaster showed up sooner than later and took over, explaining to Shadow Stalker what exactly was going to happen. Geode stuck around, backing him up, but Velocity, Rat Race, and Satyr’s part of the night was over. They might be called as witnesses when Shadow Stalker’s case went to court, but it was out of their hands now.

July 2010

Satyr didn’t really forget about Shadow Stalker, but she wasn’t what he thought Armsmaster wanted to talk to him about when he asked to meet with him some random weekday morning.

“I want you to mentor Shadow Stalker.”

“What?”

It wasn’t the most eloquent response, but Satyr had really thought he was in trouble and had been wracking his mind for what it possibly could have been. Being a bad influence on the Wards, something about his infiltration with the ABB casinos, being generally unprofessional… Satyr hadn’t exactly done anything wrong, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Armsmaster wanted to chew him out about something.

Mentorship was the total opposite of what he thought Armsmaster was going to tell him.

“Why?” Satyr asked, recovering a bit. Another thought hit him. “Is Shadow Stalker coming back to Brockton Bay?”

The last he’d heard, she’d been offered probationary membership, which was about the same deal any non-PRT-affiliated parahuman who’d committed a crime got. But Satyr had also heard she’d been sent to Alexandria’s boot camp in LA. He’d sort of assumed she’d stay there, but he was realizing it was kind of a dumb assumption. Of course, LA and San Diego wouldn’t want to be stuck with a bunch of recalcitrant probationary Wards long-term.

Armsmaster made a hum of acknowledgement. “Yes. She’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Having an official mentor isn’t required, but it would help her case if a Protectorate member’s name was attached to it.”

That made sense. It helped any Ward’s career to have a Protectorate member noted as their mentor. It was why Armsmaster worked with Kid Win, even if he didn’t really want an apprentice, though, of course, that wasn’t the only reason for Wards to have mentors. Vista excelled under Assault and Battery’s guidance, and Clockblocker trained quite a bit with Velocity. Getting more attention just meant more improvement.

That still didn’t explain why Armsmaster was asking Satyr, though.

“Why me?” Satyr asked, and he let himself relax a bit. “I don’t think I really connected with her during her arrest, and I’m not exactly a role model. Wouldn’t someone like… I don’t know, Miss Militia, would be a better fit?”

“You being who you are was why I thought of you,” Armsmaster told him flatly. Satyrical blinked at him for a moment before Armsmaster gave in and explained. “Shadow Stalker didn’t choose to join the Wards when she triggered, and she didn’t choose now. Her caseworker indicated she had some problems with authority at the boot camp. I don’t know how the Vegas team operated, but I know you didn’t strictly stick to what was strictly considered a hero. Shadow Stalker might respect your approach to being a hero more than someone like Miss Militia.”

It made sense. Still… “You could make the same argument about Assault. He was a probationary hero, too, right? And he’s better with kids than I am.”

“Technically, Assault’s still on probation. I would have no problem giving him a Ward to mentor, but it looks bad on paper,” Armsmaster explained, and Satyr ignored the little voice in his head saying that Assault had been Armsmaster’s first choice. Armsmaster spoke before that voice got too loud, though. “I wanted to try giving you more responsibility. Pretender and Rat Race have told me you’ve been teaching their daughter self-defense, and I’ve been getting the idea that you are going to stay in Brockton Bay for awhile longer, so I thought this would be a good place to test how you can handle more responsibility.”

Satyr didn’t really like the idea of getting more responsibility, but he did like that Armsmaster wanted to put more trust in him, and that Danny and Pretender thought he was doing a good job with Taylor. He liked teaching her, even if they didn’t meet up all that often anymore. Maybe working with Shadow Stalker would be like that.

“I’ll do it,” Satyrical said, and he was kind of looking forward to it.

August 2010 - January 2011

Shadow Stalker kind of had an attitude problem, but Satyr kind of liked it. She had less visceral hatred for him than the other members of the Protectorate, so that was sort of a win for him.

Being a mentor didn’t actually mean doing that much. Satyr was more of a figure to be there when Sophia needed something, which wasn’t all that much. She didn’t need someone to hold her hand, and honestly? Satyr kind of preferred it that way. Showing her around the base, attending a couple of meetings with her, assessing her combat skills, and then mostly leaving her on her own was really all Satyr wanted from this.

Still, Satyr did sort of wish that Sophia needed him a little more sometimes, but she wasn’t his only student. Danny told him Taylor was doing worse, and a few more self-defense lessons were scheduled.

Satyr didn’t really know what Danny meant when he said Taylor was “worse,” but he sort of got it when he saw her. She looked… tired. And not just in a lack-of-sleep way. She looked tired in a something-was-chronically-wrong way.

He sort of got why Pretender and Danny hadn’t told Taylor about Pretender yet. Sure, they all knew they were delaying the inevitable, and it was just going to be worse the longer they waited, but Satyr probably wouldn’t want to tell her anything big when she was like this either. He didn’t know what was going on, but he got the idea Taylor didn’t need anything else to deal with on top of whatever was already up with her.

“The bullying…” Taylor started when Satyr prodded. Gently, or at least he tried. This part of being a mentor wasn’t his strong suit. He was pretty sure Sophia would never need this kind of comforting, at least.

“Do you want to practice defense?” Satyr asked. He and Taylor were barely doing any lessons right now, Satyr just holding a punching bag for Taylor while she practiced her form. He’d assumed that was the kind of meet-up she wanted tonight, but he could definitely pivot if she needed it.

But Taylor just shook her head. “Not that kind of bullying. The girl who normally beats me up… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s… saying stuff.”

“What kinds of stuff?” 

“It’s like she can read my mind,” Taylor told him, which really wasn’t what he was expecting. “She’s saying… stuff. That I’m thinking, but I haven’t told anyone.”

Again, really not what Satyr was expecting. His first thought was parahumans, but he pushed the thought away pretty quickly. This was a civilian’s life. A teenager, too, and teenagers weren’t known for being the most rational. It was probably something about boys or something. Satyr knew he probably shouldn’t say that, though.

“The past few weeks, the bullies started talking about my parents a lot,” Taylor went on before Satyr could think of what to say. Taylor stopped hitting the bag and let her arms fall to her sides. “It was just my mom’s anniversary. You know, of her death. Dad didn’t say anything, but he’s sort of been talking about her, but I just kind of want to move on, you know? And like, I understand why he wants to talk to her, but with the bullies… They’re just kind of digging in areas I don’t want to think about.”

Ouch. Satyr knew Pretender and Danny had been planning on talking to Taylor when she came back from summer camp, but they hadn’t. Taylor must have said something about wanting to move on that set them back again.

A thought hit Satyr. “How do they know about your parents?”

Taylor froze like a deer in headlights, eyes going wide for just a fraction of a second, before relaxing and shrugging. “I guess Mom dying really isn’t a secret. I don’t know about the other stuff, though. Like, they’re saying my Dad hates me and stuff, and I know he doesn’t, but the way they’re saying it feels like they’re not just making stuff up. Like, details about Mom’s death, and stuff going on at home lately.”

Satyr suddenly became very, very aware that he was the adult here. What was the responsible thing to do here? Tell Danny, obviously, but other than that. “Do you think they’re stalking you?”

Taylor shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

“You should talk to someone at your school.” Wait, he knew people at her school. “Like your principal. I talked to her about some PRT stuff recently. She could probably do something to help.”

Taylor didn’t look thrilled. “Telling people about it doesn’t help. They don’t do anything.”

“Would you mind if I talked to her?” Satyr asked, and Taylor didn’t nod or shake her head. He took that as permission. “Even if they can’t stop the bullying, your school’s got other resources. Maybe you could talk to a counselor or something.”

“Dad tried to get me to go to therapy awhile ago, but I didn’t want to,” Taylor told him. “The self-defense lessons were part of a compromise.”

Oh shit. Was he Taylor’s therapist? Satyr knew he should absolutely not be responsible for anyone’s mental health, including his own, let alone a teenage girl.

Taylor laughed a bit, recognizing his panic. “Don’t worry. Dad suggested this more as making me feel more confident in myself, not like actual therapy. I do like talking to you, though.”

It was nice to hear, but it did make Satyr feel a little bad when he told Danny that Taylor’s bullying had gotten worse. He was mostly over the guilt by the time he got around to visiting Winslow.

“Principal Blackwell?” It was the middle of the workday, Satyr was in his full costume, and Satyr didn’t have an appointment, but Blackwell was kind of a suck-up to the PRT, so Satyr didn’t think it was going to be a problem.

“Satyrical!” Blackwell jumped to her feet when she saw him hovering in the doorway to her office. “Come in. And close that door behind you. I wasn’t expecting you today. Are you here to discuss your, uh, student?”

“One of my students,” Satyr told her as he turned a bit to shut the door. When he looked back at Blackwell, he saw a look of barely-concealed excitement on her face. Whoops. “You’re not getting another Ward. I work with, uh, a friend of mine’s kid in my civilian identity. She’s a student here. Taylor Hebert?”

“I don’t recognize the name,” Blackwell told him, which Satyr probably should have predicted. Taylor, as far as he knew, wasn’t a popular kid, and she wasn’t involved with any sports or clubs. Danny and Pretender said she was a good student, but not necessarily a good enough student to catch Blackwell’s attention.

“She’s a sophomore, I think,” Satyr told her, even though that probably wouldn’t be all that helpful. He described what Taylor had told him a bit, that she’d been getting bullied since her freshman year, and that he’d started working with her after she’d gotten beaten up walking home from school, but the bullying had gotten more verbal lately, and he was worried that the harassment had escalated to stalking.

Blackwell nodded along as Satyr spoke. “That is rather serious. Did she tell you who these bullies are?”

“No,” Satyr told her. It wasn’t his job to know, it was hers to find out, he thought, but he didn’t say that.

“Winslow has a zero tolerance for bullying,” Blackwell told him, and he heard the shift in her tone, like she suddenly started reading from a script, “but there’s not much we can do if we don’t know who the perpetrator is.”

“Perpetrators,” Satyr corrected. Taylor was always saying things like one of the bullies, or the girl who did this, or the girl who did that. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a group effort. “Just look into it, will you? Have a teacher talk to her or something.”

Blackwell assured him that she would, but Satyr didn’t feel all that confident when he left, and he didn’t notice any change in Taylor the next time he met up with her. If anything, she was doing worse.

January 2011

“Clone!”

Pretender burst into the breakroom where Satyr was doing some paperwork with Battery, Assault, and Dauntless. He sloughed off a chunk of himself on instinct and tossed it in Pretender’s direction. He caught it and took off running without another word.

“Pretender!” Battery called after him. She exchanged a glance with the rest of her teammates before the four of them got to their feet to chase after their friend.

“There a fight?” Assault asked, pulling ahead of their little group. Pretender was actually sprinting, Satyr realized, and poured a little more energy into his steps, making the muscles in his thighs burn. God, was he getting old?

“It’s Taylor. She’s in the hospital. Danny called. Something happened at school,” Pretender told them, and Satyr understood why he was running.

“We’ll drive you,” Battery said in an instant. “Ethan, carry the clone.”

Assault complied, and the five of them were soon climbing into a PRT van, Battery and Assault in the front, and Dauntless and Satyr in the back with Pretender and the slowly forming clone. Battery was giving Assault directions, and Dauntless was quietly assuring Pretender, while Satyr just kind of sat there, doing his best to keep himself and Pretender grounded, but his thoughts were racing a bit too much for that.

It was the bullying. He knew it had to be. But Taylor had seemed to bounce back a bit during winter break, and she’d said the bullying had gotten less physical before that. Had that girl beat her up again? Something worse? Satyr could barely think.

Pretender jumping into his clone and shapeshifting snapped him out of it. “You’re going as Annette?”

“Yeah,” Pretender answered as if this wasn’t the first time he’d managed to morph a clone into the body he’d possessed for twenty years. He cleared his throat, Annette’s throat, and added, “I shouldn’t have put off telling Taylor for so long.”

From the corner of his eye, Satyr saw Battery and Assault exchange a doubtful glance. Dauntless managed to catch Satyr’s eye too, and he saw his own doubts reflected back at him. Now was not the time for any big reveals, but Satyr wasn’t going to tell Pretender that. He was right. He shouldn’t have put it off for so long, and if now was the time he was ready to take the plunge, Satyr wasn’t going to stop him.

It turned out to be the right move, though, because the hospital staff only let Taylor’s family in. Pretender had to go look for Danny alone, but it was better than not being able to see him or Taylor at all.

Satyr hung around until Danny texted them with an update, and so did Assault, Battery, and Dauntless. He still felt kind of weird about leaving, though.

“Drop me off at the PRT HQ,” Satyr instructed when they all made their way back to the van. “Shadow Stalker goes to the same school as Taylor. I want to ask if she knows anything.”

“You want us to wait for you?” Battery asked, and they went back and forth about it a bit. The Protectorate base was cool, but it was kind of a pain to be away from the Wards and the PRT. Inconvenient, mostly, when they needed a Ward for something that wouldn’t take very long.

Satyr punched in the key that kept the Wards’ base alarm for them to mask up from going off. Vista and Triumph were the only ones in the common area when he walked in. It looked like Triumph was helping Vista with some homework.

“Is Shadow Stalker around?” Satyr asked, realizing that she might not even be here. It was a weekday, and it was a good few hours after school should have let out. Triumph’s head jerked up, and he fumbled for his phone. It took Satyr a beat to realize why. “I don’t have anything scheduled with her. I just need to ask her about something that happened at her school today.”

“Winslow?” Triumph asked, and Satyr nodded.

“Rat Race and Pretender’s daughter goes there. She got shoved in a locker today. Rat Race said her arms got cut up pretty bad, which is kind of unusual,” Satyr explained, watching a horrified look envelop the Wards’ faces. “I just wanted to see if Shadow Stalker heard anything.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Sophia was the one doing the shoving,” Vista mumbled under her breath, so quiet that Satyr would have thought he imagined it if Triumph didn’t react too.

“Vista!” Triumph exclaimed. “You can’t say that!”

“What? You know what she’s like!” Vista argued, and Satyr sort of wished he could melt into the floor. Shadow Stalker had a bit of a bad attitude, sure, and Armsmaster had talked to him about it before, but Satyr was pretty sure he couldn’t actually do anything about it. It was a little different seeing a preteen complaining about his student, though.

“Pretender and Rat Race’s kid is hurt. Be serious,” Triumph scolded, and Vista actually looked a little guilty.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Vista sounded genuine, and Triumph’s expression softened, but just something about the whole interaction was a little unsettling. It just rubbed him the wrong way that Vista would say something like that about Shadow Stalker, and then… Well, Triumph’s reaction was less denial and more… social convention. It meant something, but…

Shadow Stalker chose that moment to walk out into the common area, and Satyr forgot all about what he’d been thinking.

Chapter Text

January 2011

I was really thinking about giving up Skitter.

It was hard for me to go out in my Breaker state in the cold, so I didn’t really make an appearance as Skitter over winter break. That was fine. Winter break was meant to be, well, a break, and I definitely appreciated the break from Sophia and the rest. It finally gave me a moment to get my thoughts together.

My conspiracy board was making a reappearance, but I couldn’t really figure out how exactly the bullies were linked to the Master. Or, well, obviously, he was Mastering them somehow, but other than that. How his influence spread from the Protectorate to home, and now to school.

Mr. Creel visited Dad a couple times over winter break. So did Mr. Jones, and I’d sort of forgotten they were friends—My. Creel and Mr. Jones, I mean, but I’d sort of forgotten Dad was friends with Mr. Jones too—until I saw them together. It sort of reinforced my resolve to quit the Skitter stuff and just focus on taking him down.

“How have things been without your mom?” Mr. Creel asked one day, which was so weird that even Mr. Jones had a bit of a reaction. Sure, he was a Master, he could probably say whatever he wanted, and it would be fine, but it was still a wildly inappropriate thing to ask.

I answered honestly despite it all. Dad and I were fine. I felt like I’d healed. Dad and I had a good thing going, and everything was starting to feel normal again.

Okay, it wasn’t totally the truth. I still felt like I was crashing out, that my whole life had been flipped inside out, but it wasn’t about Mom. It was about everything that happened afterward. I missed her, sure, but her death wasn’t overtaking my life like everyone seemed to think it was.

Mr. Creel stopped coming around after that, though. I didn’t know why, but I added it to my notes. I still had no idea what his motivations were, but every little thing I learned about him just made me ask more questions.

I shouldn’t have assumed it was nothing, though. When I got back to school…

My secondary set of senses knew what was happening before I did. I couldn’t smell it, not with my own nose, not at first, but the bugs told my mind there was something ahead, that there was decay and rot awaiting me. My mind was filled with the idea of it before my actual senses got the chance to do their job.

My locker was stuffed with… It had to be menstrual products. It took me a bit to realize, but my senses were telling me that was definitely a bloody mass of something. What else could the bullies have stuffed my locker with?

It smelled really bad, actually. I didn’t think my powers enhanced my sense of smell, but it was so bad that I had to question it. I was standing at the end of the row of lockers, still several feet from my own, and I could already feel the beginning of a gag building in my throat.

I should walk away. I should walk away and tell a teacher. I could even go home. Everyone was looking at me, though, and I felt my feet moving forward on their own. They weren’t even saying anything, but I could feel their eyes on me, their gazes Mastering me in a way not even a parahuman could.

It was my locker. There was no doubt about it. I could see that it was mine, smears of red around the seams and gaps of the locker. I gagged as I lifted my hands to enter the combination. Three turns clockwise, two counterclockwise, one more clockwise…

A hand on my back. A shove. My forehead smacked against the upper lip of my locker, and then there was a hand forcing my head down, and another push on my back. I vomited almost immediately, my face hitting something soft, and my mind was so focused on the sensation of it all that I didn’t even notice my legs being pushed in after me until the locker door was slammed shut behind me.

It was too much at once. The smell was utterly overwhelming this close, and my vomit was warm and wet against my chest and lap, my back was bent at a painful angle to fit my body in such a small space, and all of my exposed skin pressed into mounds and mounds of other people’s used pads and tampons. I gagged again, and I couldn’t stop myself from vomiting again, which just made it so much worse.

I was pretty sure I screamed, but I was so overstimulated that I couldn’t even hear it, nor could I hear anything going on outside. My palms stung, and that was the only way I knew I was banging on the metal of the locker. Could the people outside hear it? Were they trying to help me? Trying to get it open? I could’ve shouted the code to the lock, assuming they’d put the same one back on, but my thoughts were so scrambled that I probably couldn’t even have tried if I thought it would be any help.

It was a long time before I was grounded enough to properly hear again, and everyone outside was long gone. I was crying, I realized, my quick breaths and gags the only thing I was able to hear. And… buzzing. My bugs. Or, me, as bugs. My Breaker state had activated, at least the beginning stages. The edges of myself were trying to melt into a swarm. I blinked rapidly upon the realization. I could get out of here.

Only, it took me a long time to enter my Breaker state. On a good day, it took a good thirty minutes minimum, and that was when I was lying in my bed at home. The moment I noticed I was shifting, my concentration broke, and bugs snapped back to solid flesh.

It took me several tries to accept that there was no way I was making it fully into my Breaker state. There were three small holes for ventilation on the locker’s door, so I’d have to transform my whole body to make it out through there. But maybe if I just transformed my hand…

It was hard, even if it was easier to focus on just one part of me than my whole body. I kept distracting myself trying to plan what I was going to do next. Transform my hand, send the bugs through the holes in the locker door, solidify it, then enter the combination. It was a lot of steps, and I kept thinking of new things, like trying to shift my Breaker state senses enough so I could see the outside of the locker. But I had a hand made of bugs before too long.

I reached my Breaker hand through the gaps, and I realized I hadn’t thought through this plan too much. I’d thought too little. I had to solidify my hand to enter the combination, sure, but I couldn’t just have a floating hand.

I screamed louder than I ever had as the metal of the locker cut into my forearm. Through my bugs and my altered senses, I could see the way my arm marbled between flesh and swarm, but it wasn’t swarm enough to actually fit my arm through the gaps. I was shoving my actual arm into a tiny hole that it would never be able to naturally fit into.

It was a sharp pain, the kind I couldn’t just ignore. If it was a dull ache, even an intense one, or something more like a distant throb, I might’ve been able to shove it out of my mind, but this couldn’t be anything but the focus of my attention. 

At least it was distracting enough that I couldn’t feel the blood running down my arm. I could see it through my swarm’s consciousness, but I couldn’t feel it. It also meant I couldn’t feel my fingers against the lock, which made it pretty hard to enter the combination, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

It felt like an eternity of clawing at the metal before the lock snapped open, and that was followed by another eternity of using my half-hand-half-swarm to push on the mechanism to actually open the door.

I practically spilled out once I got it open. My bugs settled back into flesh, and the pain in my arm increased tenfold, making dark spots appear in my vision. I really thought I was going to pass out. It would have been… I don’t know, cinematic? Girl breaks out of her prison, passes out, and wakes up in a hospital. It would have been nice. But no, my consciousness remained, and I was stuck lying on the linoleum floor in a mix of my own blood, vomit, and other people’s period products.

Without my bugs, I could only see out of my own two eyes, but I could imagine the sight of me. It wasn’t a good one, but at least it scared people into action when I finally managed to drag myself into the nearest classroom for help.

I really thought there would be a point where I would black out and wake up nice and comfortable on painkillers, but there wasn’t. I was just sort of awake through it all. A student with a first aid certification looking me over, the paramedics arriving, the ambulance ride to the emergency room, getting checked out by the ER doctors and nurses… 

They did give me some stuff to help with the pain, but my adrenaline was still roaring too much for them to do much to help me relax. No escape into sleep for me.

My injury wasn’t as bad as they initially thought it was. Most of the blood on me was from the menstrual products, but the injury on my arm was a lot worse than they initially thought. Lacerations, obviously, the metal shearing through my flesh, but I’d sort of crushed the soft tissue too when I forced my arm through that gap, which I didn’t know was a thing you could do.

I wondered if I’d be able to knit myself back together if I entered my Breaker state, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to give it a try right now.

Dad arrived in kind of the middle of it. It was a relief, his big hands steadying my free one while the doctors stitched up my other arm. He looked… Well, worried. And stressed. That was sort of expected, but it was always so awful seeing him like this. I’d never really seen it before Mom died, but Dad just looked like the life got drained out of him whenever something rocked his world.

I was sure I looked the same when Mom walked in.

I thought I was imagining it at first, the drugs finally doing their job, but then Dad turned, and I knew she was real. “Annette?”

Mom didn’t even look at him, her attention entirely on me. “Taylor.”

This couldn’t be happening. Mom was dead. She- She was buried. We’d buried her. I knew she was dead. But she was standing right in front of me.

“Stop moving,” the doctor instructed, and I hadn’t even realized I’d started squirming, my body screaming for me to get out of there. I forced myself to lie still. I wasn’t sure what the doctor was doing, not wanting to look at whatever work they were doing on my arm—stitches, I assumed—but I knew I didn’t want to mess it up. Even if I wanted to get out of there even more.

This had to be the Master’s work, right? He’d made those women out of rats, the ones that’d looked like Mom. He was doing… something. Making an illusion in our brains. Figured out how to make clones. Something. He was doing something, and it was here.

“I’m glad you’re here, but now’s not the time,” Dad said a little quietly, not really whispering, but the way he said it made it clear his words were meant for “Mom” only, not me. Normally, I was annoyed by stuff like that, especially considering I was literally right next to him, but I was more stricken by what he said than how he said it. Dad knew. What he knew, I didn’t know. I doubted he had the full picture, that he knew about the Master, but he knew about Mom. Or, “Mom.” He knew there was an Annette around, and he hadn’t told me.

“I couldn’t not come,” “Mom” argued, tearing her eyes off me to focus on Dad. “She’s our daughter.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t know why. My mouth going dry? My body too terrified to let the words form? The Master’s power finally taking ahold of me? All of the above?

One of the doctors made a shooing motion. “This is an emergency room. Sort out your family problems somewhere else.”

Dad looked back at me, and I felt his grip around my hand tighten. Suddenly, that point of contact was all I cared about. I didn’t want him to leave. I couldn’t be sure this was actually Dad, though. “What’s happening?”

“I promise we’ll explain,” Dad told me, and it sounded like he meant it, but I wasn’t really sure if I believed it. His eyes flickered in Mom’s direction. He wanted to go talk to her, but he also wanted to stay with me. His gaze settled on me, and I sensed he’d made his decision, but I wasn’t sure it was the one I wanted him to make.

“You can go talk to her,” I told him, but he shook his head. That surprised me a little. Did he sense there was something wrong too?

“Focus on Taylor,” Mom said, and Dad’s decision made a little more sense. Even if he was getting Mastered, he still cared more about me. It was kind of sweet, even if the whole thing was kind of scary.

One of the hospital staff seemed to disagree and started waving the two of them out. “You’re stressing her out. Go wait in the hall and give her a minute.”

Dad looked back at me, and I nodded. He seemed hesitant, but he did as I requested and stepped out.

I sort of thought that would be the end of it, but the staff member who had shooed them out took Dad’s spot on the chair next to me. “Are you okay?”

I was surprised by the question. “Um, yeah. You guys did a good job numbing my arm, but I can still sort of feel the stitches going in. It doesn’t hurt that much, though.”

The staff member shook her head. “I meant with your parents. Is everything okay at home?”

Oh. Oh. Shit. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On one hand, it really felt like answers were within reach, but on the other, I couldn’t necessarily trust what Dad would tell me. This person had taken them out of the room, though, so that had to mean she wasn’t getting Mastered, right? This might be my only chance to tell someone who could help.

Once that thought passed through my head, it all just came tumbling out before I could stop it. “That’s not really my Mom. My Mom died a long time ago. I know she did. That’s some Changer or something.”

The hospital staff member looked alarmed, but one of her coworkers was quick to interject. “She had a PRT identification card and arrived with some Protectorate members. They vouched for her. We didn’t get the story, but it seems like some parahuman activity had her legally declared dead when she wasn’t.”

“She actually died,” I argued. “You can’t trust the Protectorate. They’re getting Mastered.”

All the heads in the room suddenly snapped toward me. I even felt the doctor stop working on my arm for a moment. I felt my face get a little hot, and I ducked my head. I hadn’t meant to say that. These painkillers must be doing more than I thought.

“What makes you say that?” the staff member who’d been talking to me asked. This time, I had the sense to keep my mouth shut. She wasn’t going to take that. “If you feel like you’re in danger, we can help.”

I wanted to believe that, but I didn’t. I could feel how weak my resolve was, though, crumbling by the second. “It’ll make me sound crazy.”

“The world we live in sounds crazy,” she told me with a faint smile, and I felt the rest of my resolve crumble away. I told her what was going on, my theory, and all the little parts of the puzzle I’d pieced together 

And then they stuck me in the fucking psychiatric ward.

I probably would have stayed at the hospital for a bit even if I hadn’t opened my big fat mouth about the Master, but I definitely wouldn’t have stayed as long. It was sort of good because it meant my arm got more direct care than it would have gotten otherwise, but I would have rather dealt with my injury at home than be stuck here.

At least they let Dad visit me sooner than later. 

Unfortunately, that meant they let Mom visit, too.

They looked upset when they arrived. It was sort of expected, but I still didn’t like to see it. I forced that feeling down, though. That wasn’t really Mom, and I couldn’t be sure that was really Dad.

We just sort of stared at each other, Mom and Dad standing in the doorway, and me lying in my hospital bed. 

I had my own hospital room, and it didn’t really look like how I expected it to, but I supposed I shouldn’t rely on movies for picturing how medical facilities looked in real life. It was basically just a regular hospital room with a bed and a couple different types of chairs.

I did sort of wish I’d been sitting in a chair when they arrived. It looked better, but the bed was a lot more comfortable.

Dad spoke first. “Taylor.” 

“Hi, Dad,” I greeted, and he walked in slowly. Mom remained rooted by the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” he said, which threw me for a moment. “I didn’t mean to keep this all from you for so long. I knew you weren’t doing well, but…”

He trailed off, and I saw how his eyes flickered around the room. I never expected you to go crazy. I knew he probably wouldn’t say it that bluntly, but I also knew that’s what he was thinking.

I knew I wasn’t crazy, though. I’d done well on my psyche evals and passed all the reality tests they’d put me through here. The staff here were worried, but I’d heard things like “chronic stress” more than things like “psychotic,” and that was enough for me to cling to what I knew.

Mom stepped forward. “We were waiting for the right time to tell you, but there never really was a right time.”

“There was a wrong time, though,” Dad said, and Mom made a face at him. Her appearance in the emergency room was something they’d argued about, I sensed. 

“Yeah,” Mom agreed, the word coming out as a long exhale. She reached up and ran her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it to one side at the part. It was shorter than I remembered. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I don’t regret it. I know we would have kept putting off telling you if I didn’t just rip the band-aid off and do it.”

“Tell me what exactly?” I asked. I wasn’t really believing this, even if they really were acting like Mom and Dad, but I still wanted to know what story the Master thought he could spin to convince me this was really Mom.

Mom was a parahuman, they told me, which wasn’t totally unexpected. She’d been in a car accident like they’d said, and Dad had really believed she’d died that night until the Protectorate called him to verify that her parahuman abilities had saved her. 

Mom and Dad had decided not to tell me that night, but the stress of keeping quiet really messed Dad up, and they wanted to wait until Dad was better before telling me. But then I seemed to be struggling, and they wanted to let me heal more before breaking the news. But then I just got worse and worse.

It… It made sense. I could think of a bunch of times that, in hindsight, made it obvious that Dad had really tried to tell me about Mom. I’d blown him off a bunch of times, retreating to my escape on PHO or telling him I didn’t want to talk about Mom. I could see how he would’ve not told me.

Still…

“Do you believe us?” Mom asked, and she was right next to me. She’d kept herself at sort of a distance, but she was close enough to reach out and touch now. “I’m really me. I promise.”

I stared at her, my eyes boring into hers. There was something real in there, but… something was still off. It was a good story, but there were a lot of gaps in it still. I hadn’t told the hospital staff everything, thank god, so there were still a lot of little parts the Master hadn’t realized I knew. The Vermillion ladies, for one. The girls at school. My own powers, though that one might have been a bit of a stretch. Every little bit counted, though.

I dropped my gaze, but I still saw how Mom sagged in disappointment. She knew my answer.

January 2011 - February 2011

It was fine having Mom around in the hospital, but it was a different story at home. Now I knew what the psych eval people meant by “chronic stress.” 

Mom was just kind of around all the time, and it was terrifying. I still wasn’t sure what she was. I was leaning more toward some kind of construct over a swarm of rats disguised as a human. Definitely some kind of Master power. Changer was probably the most realistic, but so many little things she did were just so Mom. The way she moved, the way she talked, her expressions, the way she was with Dad…

I was pretty certain that was Dad. I hadn’t really doubted it before, but I hadn’t really known replacing people was a possibility until Mom disappeared. If one person could get replaced, it was just as likely a second one could probably be replaced just as easily, but I had to believe that was really Dad if I had any hope of not losing my mind stuck in this house.

I got a good amount of time off from school, and I knew I needed it with my arm as messed up as it was, but staying home wasn’t exactly a blessing. Dad took time off work, but the time I got off from school was a lot longer than he could reasonably stay away from the DWA. Sooner or later, there was a day when it was just me and Mom alone in the house.

She tried to talk to me. She really tried, and it sounded so much like her. She asked me if I wanted to read together like we used to, and she cooked my favorite foods in ways that I hadn’t had since she died, and she brought out board games from the attic to play, and- and- and she just felt so much like Mom, and that made it all so much harder to keep ignoring her. 

Even if she wasn’t real, I would have loved to pretend for a bit, but I knew I couldn’t.

With my bugs, I heard her cry in the backyard one afternoon. It tugged at something in my chest, but I knew better than to listen to my heart at this point.

February 2011

I had to tell someone.

I’d made the mistake of following that thought before, obviously, but I couldn’t not. It was about as bad as it could get right now. I doubted it could get much worse.

I was looking forward to going back to school. At first, it was just to get out of the house, but once I started planning, going back to school became less about escape and more about finally getting to the person I needed to talk to.

“Emma.”

This was a mistake. I knew it was a bad choice, but I also knew she was the only one with any hope of understanding.

She whipped around at the sound of her name. With my bugs and extra senses, I’d managed to pinpoint her at a rare moment where she wasn’t surrounded by her friends. That didn’t make her any less of a bully, though.

She smiled at me, but not in a friendly way. Not even in a way that was pretending to be friendly. It was a gleeful smile, a victorious one even though she hadn’t even said anything.

“I didn’t think you’d come crawling back here, worm,” Emma said, and she sounded confident even though that was far from her best work. Clearly, she hadn’t known I was coming back to school today, not that I thought her insults would have been better if she had time to prepare. “You haven’t had enough?”

“Stop. This is serious,” I responded, and Emma leaned back a bit. It wasn’t a flinch, but I’d surprised her enough to get her to lean her weight back on her heels. I took a deep breath and forced it out. “My mom’s back.”

“What?” Emma’s expression completely changed, and I sensed a shift in the dynamic between us. “What do you mean your mom’s back? She’s dead.”

“I know! That’s why I’m talking to you.” I wished I had a cell phone. I could’ve shown her a picture, shown her that this was really real, but I didn’t, so I just had to do my best. “That’s why I was gone for so long. She showed up when I was in the emergency room with some story about it being a PRT cover-up, and they put me in the psych ward when I didn’t believe her.”

I was giving the bullies ammunition by revealing I’d been put in the psych ward, but I didn’t really care. Nothing they could say or do was scarier than what my life outside of school was. Besides, I needed to give Emma something to work with. Emma knew my mom had worked for the PRT. She knew there was some viability to there being some kind of parahuman interference. 

“Taylor…” Emma started, and there was what I thought was a look of real, genuine emotion on her face, but she was interrupted by the sound from behind of a hand slamming against the wall, narrowly missing my head.

“This freak really come up to you, Emma?” It was Sophia’s voice, because of course it was.

“Not now, Sophia,” Emma protested, and I felt hope flash in my chest. I shouldn’t have, though, because I knew the Master had a hold on Sophia. She was about to put a stop to any momentum I might’ve had.

Sophia ignored her and wrung her knuckles. It looked kind of stupid, like something from a TV show, but it still got the job done. I took a step back, angling myself away from Emma so I could get my eyes properly on Sophia. She was smiling, not quite in the way Emma had before I’d started talking to her, but it was close enough for me to know this wasn’t going to end well for me.

“Gone for a month, back and ready for more,” Sophia said, and I saw movement in my peripheral vision. The boys from the track team. They were approaching.

I bolted before Sophia could say something to pretend like she hadn’t planned on having them chase me from the start.

I would have liked to go into my Breaker state and just fly home, but it was too cold for that, so I was stuck walking.

A car pulled up beside me on the street. I stopped walking, a very different type of fear spiking through me.

Mom’s voice rang through the window before my thoughts could get away from me. “Taylor!”

My thoughts ran in a different direction.

I felt the muscles in my calves tense. My body wanted to run. But then what? Mom was in a car, and, assuming this clone or construct or whatever was anything like the real Mom, she had a career of passing PRT fitness tests backing her up. She could just chase me down and drag me back to the house.

There was my Breaker state, of course, but I was pretty sure the Master didn’t know about that, and I wasn’t sure now was the time to reveal one of my last cards. Besides, it wouldn’t keep me safe for long, not in the winter.

So, I opened the car door and let Mom drive me home. The thought of running had entered my head, though.

Mom talked to me for the whole drive, telling me how the school had called about her not showing up and how worried she’d been. I tuned it out, too caught up in my own head. My powers weren’t that helpful right now, but they could be. I could get out of the house undetected. I’d snuck in and out for months without Dad noticing. After that…

I had a lot more planning to do. Spring couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter Text

March 2011

It was actually pretty easy to run away all things considered.

My powers really helped. I couldn’t carry stuff with me when I entered my Breaker state, but I could transform my clothes, and that meant I could take a backpack with me. Most of the time. Sometimes. It took some trial and error, but I found a couple of hiding places around the docks, so over a few weeks, I hid a few caches of the things I would need to survive when I finally took the plunge.

I would never tell anyone because it was embarrassing, but honestly, a lot of my strategy came from cape fanfiction. There were a lot of stories about a parahuman running away after they got powers, or just being homeless in general. Yes, I read actual guides online for preparing to live on the streets, saving up cash, and making sure to take things like a can opener and nail clippers from home, but the fanfic helped with the sneaking around parts of it. I scouted out multiple locations that only I could access thanks to my powers, and I mentally mapped out areas I’d have to avoid. People would recognize me at places like the library, and we couldn’t have that.

Which really sucked, because there was no way I could bring my computer with me. Even if I could, I didn’t really understand how tracking someone digitally worked. I’d sort of hoped I could get some kind of smartphone, but I wasn’t going to risk it. I didn’t really need internet access. Sure, PHO had become my lifeline the past couple of years, and I was really going to miss it, but I could go without it.

I felt like I was already gone before the day came that I stopped going back to the house.

Mom, Dad, and the Master definitely noticed a difference, though, because the rats were back on the streets within a day.

It wasn’t quite like it had been before. The Protectorate put out an announcement that the rat ladies drifting around the streets wouldn’t attack civilians, or at least I’d overheard someone on the street talking about it. which meant there was some intentionality to the Master’s power this time. Still, I knew they were looking for me, and that wasn’t good.

The rats found one of my hideouts within a couple of days, forcing me to abandon it. It wasn’t a huge loss. That was why I had multiple hideouts, but after days of having to ration and eat the same canned food, it was starting to wear on me. I tried to distract myself superheroing, but there wasn’t a lot I could actually do during the day, especially since I didn’t really want to interact with fans on the boardwalk when I was trying to be lowkey, and flying around as Skitter only tempted me to use my powers to get some real food.

I had thought I’d planned things out well, getting canned peaches and vegetable-based soups. I’d basically cleared out Mom and Dad’s supplies from the garage and pantry, leaving just enough so that they wouldn’t notice how much was missing before it was too soon. I had spam, granola bars, and juice boxes, but every meal felt like I was scrounging. One of my hideouts was an abandoned apartment with a microwave. It would be so easy to slip into a grocery store, take a frozen meal, and bring it back to heat up.

I had a little bit of cash, but not enough to be leaving on counters for stores I took things from, so I stopped after a couple times. I snuck items out of stores a few times before the rats found the apartment. I lost a lot more of my supplies that time, and I ended up in the back rooms of an abandoned office building. This was a risky spot to be in, and so was the apartment, but I’d scouted it out quite a bit before stashing my stuff here. It was on the ground level, though, so I wasn’t too confident that the rats wouldn’t be able to find it. 

It made me a little more desperate, and that was how a cape caught me. 

I had been a little bolder this time. I’d shifted halfway out of my Breaker state, sort of like I did when I got myself out of the locker, to fill up a bag with fresh fruits from a grocery store without exposing my face to any hidden security cameras or Master effects. That was how Browbeat found me.

Okay, that was a lie. He caught me in the electronics section. I really wanted a phone, so sue me.

“Drop the bag,” he barked, and I’d been so startled by his appearance that I did, quickly shifting back into a swarm. “I didn’t expect you to go criminal, Skitter.”

Ouch. That kind of hurt. “I didn’t go criminal. I’m still a hero. Now you? Who are you supposed to be, and what are you doing in a closed store at night?”

There was a beat, and I could imagine his face twisting in confusion under his mask. “I’m Browbeat?”

“Never heard of you,” I answered, trying to sound confident, but I really wasn’t. He spoke as if I should know him. A new hero on the cape scene, I assumed. See, this was why I needed a phone!

“Whatever,” Browbeat grunted, and he jabbed a finger in my direction. “The Wards told me you’re responsible for the recent string of robberies. You want to go down the easy way or the hard way?”

He’d joined the Wards? The Wards had a new member, and I missed it? Wait, no. He’d phrased it like he’d just been talking to them, sort of like how I used to talk to the Wards on the boardwalk. He must have done the same.

Something inside me panged at that. That used to be me. Sure, I’d been a hero for almost a year now, but still. I wasn’t the young new hero on the cape scene anymore.

My brain caught up with the last thing he said. “You’re going to try to arrest me?”

“You’re stealing, aren’t you?” he asked, and then he took a swing at me.

His fist passed right through my swarm. Ha!

And then he clapped and smashed quite a few bugs between his palms. Not the most effective way to hurt me, but it did mean I had to retaliate.

Now that I was using my bugs on him, I could tell that he wasn’t a Ward for sure. His costume was a little crude, clearly homemade, and that meant there were a lot of points for my bugs to worm under his clothes. I felt skin under their touch, and I began biting him with dozens of tiny mouths. Gross still, even after all this time, but it was my best attack.

But then something about his skin started changing, and my bugs’ bites stopped sinking in. Some kind of Brute/Changer power?

His weird clapping technique became a lot more effective, too. The bugs that weren’t being crushed were getting stunned by the force around his hands as they came together. If this fight was going to stretch out forever, I wasn’t going to win. I had the time to figure out what to do differently, but my bugs were still getting crushed, so I felt the pressure.

I could have just flown away. In hindsight, I really could have just flown away. But I didn’t.

I don’t know what it was. The panic of being caught, knowing that Browbeat was affiliated with the Wards, losing two of my hideouts, the rats around the city, the stress I’d been under the past few days, being called a villain… It could have been anything.

I flew into Browbeat’s mouth and nose. The skin wasn’t reinforced there, so my bites were able to find purchase, but then those parts quickly became too hard to bite as well, and my bugs had to venture deeper and deeper.

I hadn’t realized the implications of what I was doing until I heard a choking sound. I withdrew my bugs quickly, and Browbeat let out a big, wet splutter followed by a gasp as he fell to his knees, pawing at his chest. I’d been blocking his airways. Not suffocating him, but I could have if I hadn’t realized what I was doing.

He didn’t say anything. It was dark, and he was wearing a costume, so I couldn’t really tell, but he seemed shaken. He didn’t look at me or try to crawl away, and somehow that was worse.

I snatched up my backpack and flew away. I ditched the phone I’d taken when I felt safe enough to drop my Breaker state. I didn’t deserve it.

Word must have gotten out about my fight with Browbeat, because people began screaming and running away when they saw my swarm flying around. Which, yeah. That was on me. It still hurt, though.

I was still a hero. Sure, I hadn’t really done anything heroic lately, but I was trying to. I wanted to. The Master was still out there, and I was the only one trying to stop him.

Still, I leapt at the opportunity for change when it came.

There was someone in my hideout when I got back one night after a failed attempt at doing some superheroing. Someone in a costume. The rat Master, I feared at first, but my bugs told me it was someone smaller, younger. A girl.

She pinched one of the bugs I’d been using to investigate her, killing it, and called out, “I know you’re here. I won’t bite if you won’t.”

I hesitated. And then she took off her mask.

“You’re living here, right?” she asked, and I recognized her. Lisa, that girl from the boardwalk. The first person Skitter had saved. God, that felt so long ago. She grinned in my direction even though there was no way she could tell where I was in my Breaker state. “I know a little bit about what it’s like. I hid out here for a couple months too. Sucks, right? I’ve got a much better setup now. You want to come get some food and a hot shower?”

The offer was tempting. Too tempting. Still… “I don’t have a mask.”

She held something up, and I realized it was a bag with clothes in it. “I’ve got extra.”

There was no way I couldn’t say yes.

Lisa brought me to a closed-off factory with a sign over it that read Redmond Welding. She led me to a small door on the side that opened up to a staircase leading up to a second floor.

We were still in the part of the city that would be considered the Docks. We were a little outside my usual stomping grounds, but I had scoped out this area before. Not that thoroughly, though, apparently, because I’d totally missed wherever Lisa was bringing me.

She brought me into what looked to be an apartment with three more capes waiting inside, and I realized I sort of misread the situation. “Um, hi?”

Lisa had ditched the mask, and so had the other girl waiting inside, but the two boys had masks on. The girl was sitting on the couch in what looked like normal clothes, three dogs sitting close to her, gazes sharp and alert. The boy sitting next to her barely gave me a glance when I walked in, focused on some kind of video game on the TV. He was in a very renaissance-esque get up, which was what alerted me that something was off here. Or, well, it would if not for the other guy standing in the middle of the apartment. Because this was most definitely an apartment, I was realizing.

The second boy was tall and fitted out in all black with a helmet with a skull pattern to match. If we weren’t in Brockton Bay, he could have passed for a teenager with an edgy sense of style, but we were in Brockton Bay, and it was clear the person standing before me was a supervillain.

He spoke in a surprisingly polite voice before I could work myself into a panic. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gru, and that’s Regent and Bitch.”

I recognized the names. These were the Undersiders, I realized. And that must mean…

I turned to Lisa. “You’re Tattletale?”

In the corner of my eye, I saw Grue shift his weight onto his heels. It was slight, but I could tell he was surprised. “You didn’t tell her?”

Lisa—Tattletale—waved him off. “I was working on it. I wasn’t expecting all of you to be all geared up when I came back.”

Something in Grue’s posture changed. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring a cape back to the loft without verifying we could trust her first.”

Bitch had been tense since I walked in, the dogs too, but I saw her lean forward a bit, like she was ready to get up. Regent hadn’t really been paying attention, but I could sense his demeanor shift too. He still wasn’t looking in my direction, but I could tell he was ready to… I didn’t know, ready to jump into a fight? The Undersiders had kicked my ass pretty bad months ago, and that was when I was in my Breaker state and not running on days of poor meals and even poorer sleep.

“She’s a kindred spirit,” Tattletale said as if her friends weren’t seconds away from trying to attack me. If they did, there was no way I could get into my Breaker state anywhere near fast enough to do anything to stop them. She turned to me. “I meant what I said about giving you a hot shower and a meal. The bathroom’s down the hall to the left. I set a clean towel and some clothes in there before I left. Go. I’ll set these guys straight and figure out what we’re doing for- Well, breakfast, I guess, unless you want to stick around for lunchtime.”

“I’m not picky,” I said, but I didn’t move. My brain was still sluggishly refusing to process the implications of being in the Undersiders’ base, and some part of it latched onto the fact that I was just invited to use their bathroom. That was really weird, wasn’t it? I hadn’t been to a lot of other people’s houses, other than Emma, but using their bathroom was always a little bit awkward. But using their shower? It felt weirdly intimate, and the fact that I was in my enemies’ home made it so much worse.

Tattletale’s expression softened a bit. “Seriously. Go. Sure, I’ll admit I had an ulterior motive inviting you here, but I know what a shower means when you’re living on the streets. I’ve been in your shoes before. The door has a lock, and there’s a window if you want to leave, and I’ll make sure you get your privacy until you’re ready to talk.”

Someone growled, and I wasn’t sure if it was Bitch or one of the dogs who growled first, but there was a general kind of rumbling from that side of the room. Tattletale shot her a look, but the noise didn’t stop. I wasn’t sure how to take that, but I could tell the Undersiders wanted to talk without me there, so I slowly began moving my feet, crossing the room and heading toward where Lisa said the bathroom was.

I could have lingered and listened. I was getting pretty good at transforming only some of my body into bugs, so I could have gone into the bathroom and sent a hand’s worth of bugs to listen in on whatever the Undersiders were saying about me, but once I turned the water on and the bathroom started steaming, the allure became too great to resist.

The hot water warmed a chill in my bones and relaxed the tense muscles in my back. I hadn’t noticed either until the pain was being soothed. Tattletale had been on the streets for a year by the time I’d met her, if I recalled correctly. I could count the days since I’d run away, and I already kind of felt like shit. Suddenly, her kindness made a lot more sense. Even if she was a supervillain, she’d been in a spot like me. If somehow everything magically went back to the way it should be, me at home with my real Mom and Dad, and I’d been in a position to offer Lisa something similar, knowing what I knew now, I would like to think I would have done it.

I don’t actually know if I would have, though. I knew sort of logically that the longer I went away from home, the more it would wear me down, and maybe that would blur the lines between hero and villain a little more, but I was still a hero, and Tattletale was still a villain.

A villain that had already helped me more than anyone else in my life, both civilian and cape.

I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to, savoring the warmth, and mulled it over in my mind. I knew I couldn’t trust her, but I couldn’t trust anyone, not even the Protectorate, and Tattletale had given me away out. She was right. The bathroom had a window, and with my powers, I could just leave pretty easily, and I didn’t think the Undersiders would be able to stop me.

I thought about Mom tracking me down when I ran off from school, and how the rats had sniffed out my hideouts. Here, standing totally naked in the Undersiders’ shower, I felt safer than I’d felt at home in years.

I didn’t know what Tattletale wanted with me, but already I knew whatever she offered, it was going to be hard to refuse. I couldn’t stop the Master hiding out in an abandoned office building, and this shower and the promise of real food were making me realize how awful the past few days had been. Why had I thought I would survive as a runaway? Just because I had powers? I’d been comfortably middle-class my whole life. I didn’t know what it was like to be hungry, cold, or dirty!

The thought of food was enough to get me to shut off the water and start drying off. I missed the heat the moment it was gone, but it’d taken quite a while to properly scrub myself, and I had taken just as much time just soaking in the sensation of being in a shower again, so I felt bad dillydallying any longer. It was time to face the Undersiders.

Bitch saw me first when I emerged, and she visibly tensed. I saw her gaze flicker across the room, and I realized the dogs were locked in a series of crates, all eating noisily. They were her dogs, I assumed, not the Undersiders’ pets. Wait, maybe they were part of her powers? The Undersiders had been riding something big and fleshy when I’d encountered them. I hadn’t seen the minions, but I was pretty sure they hadn’t been riding dogs. Two of them were pretty big, but one of them was tiny. I couldn’t imagine the little terrier going into a fight.

I could have asked, I realized, but the look Bitch was giving me wasn’t exactly friendly. I scrambled for something else to say.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower,” I said a little lamely. She didn’t relax, but she looked a little less hostile and stalked off without saying anything to me.

I followed the sound of activity to the kitchen, and I found Grue, Tattletale, and Regent cooking. Or, well, Tattletale and Grue were cooking. Regent was sitting at the table on his phone, the perfect picture of an apathetic teen.

Actually, this whole thing was pretty domestic. I could imagine me, Mom, and Dad living out this exact scenario. Mom whisking eggs, Dad frying something up on the stove, me setting the table…

I shook my head, clearing the fantasy from my mind, and tried to make my footsteps a little louder so I wouldn’t surprise anyone when I walked into the dining area. “Can I do anything to help?”

I did know how to cook. I hadn’t really done it in awhile, even before I ran away, not like I used to at least. Dad and I used to cook together, and it was just weird with Mom there, and she usually defaulted to it since she came back. Or, since the Stranger/Master thing took her place. God, it was hard to keep track of the right words. It was so much easier to just call her Mom. I hated it so much.

“Not unless you’re picky about how you like your eggs,” Grue called over the fan over the stove.

“Can’t really afford to be picky,” I responded, before I could catch myself. It was true, but it just kind of slipped out. 

“All the more reason to let us feed you,” Tattletale said, bringing some plates to the table. Scrambled eggs, French toast, fruit, sausage… My stomach didn’t growl at the sight of it, but my belly was filled with a far stronger feeling than mere rumbling. Fuck, it was a simple meal, but it looked so goddamn good. “Dig in.”

I wasn’t sure what time it was. It was late, I knew, closer to breakfast time than dinner, but it was still dark and far too early really be eating a meal. I wondered what the Undersiders were doing awake. They were probably just up to mind me, which made me a little self-conscious, but my attention was far too focused on the food to let it stop me from sitting down.

When I was a kid, Mom went through this phase where she watched a lot of survival reality TV. I remembered there was an episode where someone said that when they finally got a meal, they could feel the calories in the food filling their body with energy. I knew I wasn’t as starved as the people on those shows, but my throat and stomach felt warmer when I swallowed, something I usually didn’t notice when I ate, and the flavor of everything I put in my mouth lingered in the most wonderful way.

My head literally started feeling clearer about halfway through the meal, and I abruptly realized that Bitch was in the kitchen making a plate for herself, and that the rest of the Undersiders’ attention was on me more than their own plates.

I tried to push away the feelings of embarrassment. Tattletale had been homeless, I reminded myself, and the rest of the people here were also teenagers, and they were living here, not at home, so I had to assume they must’ve been in similar spots. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the food they offered, but I was still suddenly very self-conscious.

“Thanks for the food,” I said, trying to sound as genuine as possible, and tried to think of the best way to phrase the next thing I wanted to say. “I don’t want to sound rude, but why are you doing this?”

Regent, Tattletale, and Grue all kind of glanced at each other. Bitch walked out of the kitchen without saying anything again. I was sensing that was a theme with her.

“The whole… wooing you with food thing was Tattletale’s idea,” Grue admitted, “but we were planning on approaching you. Our boss got word that you messed Browbeat up bad enough to send him running off to the Wards.”

I did? Yikes. Okay, yeah, I did mildly suffocate him, but he was… I wanted to wave it off that he was a cape, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Capes were still people, even if it didn’t seem like it from the other side of the mask sometimes. Above it all, though, Browbeat was a teenager, someone my age, maybe even younger. I’d been really put through it lately, and I’d faced a lot of impossibly scary things, enough that I hardly seemed scary at all in comparison, but in hindsight, I could see how fighting me could’ve messed with Browbeat’s head. Psyched him out at least.

I still hadn’t meant to. “That was an accident.” 

Regent grinned, and I realized that they’d all taken their masks off. Me too. That was a little scary. Had I really been so hungry that I’d missed that? Probably not. I’d still been eating lately, even if I wasn’t eating good food. I was desperate enough not to notice we’d ditched the masks might be a more accurate thing to say.

“That’s wicked,” Regent declared, and I wanted to say something to defend myself, but he was still grinning, so I thought it must have been a compliment.

“Here’s the deal,” Tattletale said, leaning forward on the table a bit. “We want you to join our gang.”

Join the Undersiders? Become a supervillain?

“It’s a pretty sweet deal. You get a room here at the loft, our boss gives you two thousand a month just for being part of the team, you get a say in what kind of jobs we pull and how often, and you get an equal cut of whatever we get out of it,” Grue listed off, and my ears rang. I could stay here? And I would get paid for it? I didn’t think of myself as a very monetary person, but the cash I’d swiped from around the house before I ran away really wasn’t lasting as well as I expected it to. I was gaining an appreciation for what money had to offer.

My brain caught up with the second part of what Grue said. “Jobs? Like…?”

“Stealing stuff, mostly,” Regent said, playing with his fork almost absently. “Sometimes the boss’ll have us do something else, but it’s mostly stealing stuff.”

Maybe it was my newfound desperation talking, but stealing didn’t sound so bad anymore. The boss part, though… “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this boss.”

“Third,” Tattletale corrected, and she ran her hand through her hair, flipping her part. “We’ve got an agreement with him. He pays us to stick together, and we can do whatever we want, but he’ll give us intel and suggest jobs for us. We can always refuse them, but he gives us bonuses for doing what he asks.”

“Big bonuses,” Regent interrupted.

“Resources too,” Grue added. “Discrete healthcare, legal services, weapons, you name it.”

“All in exchange for being part of a gang?” It sounded a little too good to be true. “Who is he?”

Grue and Regent shifted a bit, and Tattletale took over. “I know who he is, but part of our deal is that the Undersiders don’t know who he is. Yet. He’s not, like, Kaiser, though, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It wasn’t, but that was still good to know. “Is he a Master?”

“Got a problem with Masters?” Regent asked, raising a brow. I thought he was kidding, but I couldn’t really tell. I assumed, based on context, that he was a Master, but I was too, so I wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“No,” I answered honestly. I tried to keep my voice level when I added, “I’ve got a problem with a specific Master.”

I really doubted the Undersiders were under the rat Master’s influence, and it would be really convoluted if Rat Race, a Protectorate member, was puppeting a gang like this. Hell, Rat Race had been there when I encountered the Undersiders all that time ago, and he’d been trying to stop them. I still didn’t know his plan, but I doubted he would fight his own puppets and then send them to recruit me. 

“Our boss isn’t a Master,” Tattletale told me, and I believed her, even though her words didn’t really mean anything if she was getting Mastered. She grinned at me, a little sharper than Regent had before. “So, you in?”

There was one more thing. I had to ask. “Why me?”

The look on her face didn’t dull. “Why not you?”

“I’m…” I struggled for the word, “...a hero?”

It came out like a question. I hated that it came out like a question.

Regent snorted. “Some hero.”

Grue elbowed him. “We thought your fight with Browbeat meant you were coming over to the dark side.”

I shook my head, then paused. “I mean, I know that wasn’t the most heroic, but I meant it when I said it was an accident. Um, he did catch me stealing, but I’m, um…”

They knew I was living on the streets, or at least Tattletale did. They didn’t know the details, but the fact I’d come here just on the promise of getting a shower and a meal was telling.

“I still want to be a hero,” I said quietly, my gaze dropping.

“That’s true,” Tattletale said, and she said it in a way like there was more to it, but I didn’t know what she meant. “We’d all like to be heroes, but-”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” Regent interrupted a little nasally. “Neither does Bitch. Say something like that to her, and she’ll show you exactly how much she does not want to be a hero.”

“I meant generally.” Tattletale ran her fingers through her hair, flipping her part again. “I don’t want to be a hero either. I love being a criminal. What I was trying to say is that this makes sense. You’re not in a position to be a hero right now. Trying to be a hero right now would mean wearing yourself out trying to help others when you’ve got nothing. People become villains because they have to, not because they want to. Most of the time, at least. I don’t know what your situation is, but like Grue said, the boss has resources. Whatever you need to get your shit back together, he can help you get there. We can help you get there.”

I saw the logic. I could barely help myself right now, let alone others. I was in a bad spot, and I was tearing myself up for what? Being able to call myself a hero? I was a hero. I was trying to stop the rat Master, and I couldn’t do that if I was constantly struggling for food and structure.

I could still be a hero if I was part of a supervillain gang, couldn’t I? My goals were still the same. I was trying to save people. Joining the Undersiders would be… means that justified the end, maybe?

“If being a hero is so important to you, you can move to another city and rebrand once you figure your shit out. I don’t care,” Tattletale said, and Grue looked like he wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut. “But right now, you’re being handed an opportunity too good to pass up.”

She was right, and they all knew it. It was a pretty generous offer, and I could really use some generosity right now. 

“I’m in,” I said, and I didn’t hate it. I was going to be an Undersider.

Chapter Text

March 2011

I didn’t know what to expect when I joined the Undersiders, but it wasn’t this. At the very least, I expected more supervillainy. What I got was pretty different.

It was a lot of just… hanging out.

That first day after I agreed to join the Undersiders, Regent and Bitch had gone to bed almost immediately. Tattletale had come to retrieve me after my patrol, so it was kind of the middle of the night, and Tattletale didn’t scold them for not helping settle me in. I don’t know why I expected her to. She sent Grue to help me retrieve my things while she set up a room for me.

It was… I didn’t know. Weird. Being around other teenagers again. It was a weird mix of getting my life back into some semblance of normal and just kind of coexisting. The first couple of days were just a lot of things like Tattetale making sure my new room had everything I needed, Grue getting me a phone, trying to not have Bitch growl at me, and watching Regent play video games.

When I’d first met them, I’d unconsciously compared them to a family, with Tattletale and Grue as the parents and Bitch and Regent as the moody teenage kids. But when I came to know them as Lisa, Brian, Rachel, and Alec, I realized it was something more akin to roommates, or even coworkers.

Or, well, Lisa, Rachel, and Alec were. Brian had an apartment elsewhere, something Lisa and Alec teased him for, though I didn’t understand why. He still fit into the dynamic, though, so I barely noticed.

I wasn’t sure any of them liked each other. Maybe it’d just been a long time since I’d been around people my own age, but there was always sort of a tension between them. Rachel was always snapping at people, Alec seemed to have fun pushing everyone’s boundaries, Lisa always had this look of annoyance around her, and Brian was the straight man to all their antics.

But there were definitely moments where they got along. Lisa nagged Alec and Rachel to do chores around the loft, and they wouldn’t complain. Rachel was gone a lot, presumably to walk her dogs, and Alec would go along with her sometimes. Rachel didn’t seem to like video games, but I saw her pick up a controller to play alongside Alec a handful of times. She was bad at it, but she did it, and Alec seemed to enjoy it.

It was super confusing. I wanted to ask someone about it, but I wasn’t sure who. I settled on Lisa, which seemed like the obvious answer in hindsight, when she dragged me out of the loft to buy me some new clothes.

I didn’t want to go. The loft was safe, as far as I knew, and I didn’t want to risk a rat seeing me, or worse, someone I knew. And I really didn’t have any money either, especially not enough to be spending on stuff like clothes, but Lisa said she’d spot me, and her argument was convincing enough to get me to follow her out. Apparently, all my dark, baggy clothes were more attention-grabbing, who knew?

“Am I the first, um, new hire?” I asked as I watched Lisa leaf through piles of clothes. I suspected that was what a lot of today was going to be: me watching as Lisa picked stuff out for me to try. I still felt a little lost about all this, but I trusted her to some degree, at least when it came to stuff like this.

Lisa shrugged. “Kind of. We tried getting Spitfire, but Rachel had her dogs attack her, and Faultline ended up snatching her up.”

I looked around in a panic. Was anyone in earshot to hear that?

Lisa waved me off. “Relax, no one’s around.”

I wasn’t totally sure how exactly her power worked yet, but I was pretty sure it was some kind of Thinker ability, maybe something with insight or intuition. I still focused my Master power and gathered up all the bugs in my range to give me a better sense of the area. I still wasn’t very good at it, usually relying more on my Breaker power, but it still made me feel better.

“What do you mean Rachel had her dogs attack her?” I asked, frowning. Rachel made it clear she didn’t like me praising or petting the dogs, at least not without her permission, but the dogs seemed friendly enough. They were trained for combat, sure, but we hadn’t actually done any cape stuff yet, so they mostly just hung out around the loft. Rachel always seemed to occupy some part of their attention, but it wasn’t like they ignored or didn’t like Lisa and Alec, and they’d been curious about me.

“Rachel’s… complicated. She’s better with dogs than people,” Lisa said a little slowly. She turned, walking away from the stack of clothes she’d been looking through to venture toward another section of the store. “I’m kind of surprised she likes you so much.”

“She likes me?” I echoed, surprised. I thought she hated me. She was always glaring and growling at me.

“She’s still figuring you out,” Lisa offered, and I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. “She would’ve had one of the dogs bite you if she didn’t like you.”

I shuddered. I believed her. “What’s her deal? And Alec’s. And Brian’s. I’ve been trying to figure you guys out, but you’re also different. It doesn’t make sense.”

Lisa shrugged. “We’ve got an understanding. We’re all runways. I met them all before the boss approached me, and I thought of them when he told me he wanted to have a small-time gang in the city.” 

They were all runways? Like me? It explained a lot, and opened up a lot more questions. Mostly, it made me feel a little less embarrassed about the state I’d been in when I met them.

“Brian’s from Brockton Bay, and he’s got a deal with the boss to help his sister,” Lisa went on, handing me a top to hold. I inspected it, and it didn’t really seem like my style, but I’d already decided I was going to try on whatever Lisa gave me. It was a little pathetic, but I’d done sort of the same thing with Emma. Emma had a good eye for this kind of thing, better than me, and I was okay with being a little uncomfortable if it meant spending time with her.

“What about Rachel and Alec?” I asked. I still didn’t really know them, but they both seemed pretty single-minded in their interests. “I can’t really imagine what they could be getting out of this.”

Lisa shrugged. “Money. A place to stay. Friends. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’re both kind of antisocial.”

I opened my mouth to respond, and then I realized she was being sarcastic. It was really obvious they were both pretty antisocial. “They seem to get along with each other pretty well.”

Lisa nodded even though she wasn’t facing me. “They think differently from each other, but I think they both recognize there’s something fucked up with the other, and it makes it easier for them to be around each other.”

I was a little surprised Lisa said it so bluntly. I didn’t know what the politically correct term for what I was thinking was, but I wouldn’t have said it quite like Lisa phrased it. It didn’t sound like she was being mean, though. It didn’t sound like she was ignorant either. There was almost a sympathy to it? No, that wasn’t the right word either.

I was about halfway to figuring out the right way to ask when some supernatural sense urged me to turn my head, and I spotted Emma staring at me from across the store.

It threw me off so much that I ended up staring back.

I’d just been thinking about her. Shopping with Lisa felt like something Emma and I used to do. But that was the old Emma. The new Emma had bullied me after my Mom died, and then… And then I told her about Mom coming back. Even though I knew the Master was influencing her and her friends.

I turned to Lisa. “We need to go.”

I expected some argument, but Lisa wasn’t Emma. She was Tattletale, and she’d lived a life rough enough to know when someone said it was time to go, it was time to go. 

She brought me to hide out in the changing rooms without question, and she waited patiently until I was confident enough in what my bugs were telling me to give the all clear before she tried to open the door.

April 2011

I hadn’t really questioned why the loft was on top of an abandoned factory, but it made sense when Brian told us we were doing a training session. It wasn’t like a pack of supervillains could do all their business outside. The factory just gave us a lot of open space to use our powers.

I also got to find out why the Undersiders were interested in me.

“You can scout with your bugs, right?” Lisa asked when we’d all migrated to the factory, dogs and all. None of us were in our costumes, so it was a little hard to picture us as the Undersiders and not just Taylor, Lisa, Alec, Rachel, and Brian, but I was sure what was going to change soon.

I nodded. “That’s what I did with Shadow Stalker, mostly. I can kind of control regular bugs, but not very well. When I use my Breaker state, I can break up my body and spread out pretty far. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I can sort of hear and see from a central point, and I have kind of a more abstract sense from all the bugs.”

Lisa nodded along and gave me a quick rundown on everyone else’s power. Grue had his darkness generation, Regent could mess with people’s nervous systems, Bitch could mutate her dogs, and Tattletale had an information-gathering power. “I plan, Regent stops anyone from interfering with the heist, Grue gives us cover, and Bitch is our getaway.”

“And our muscle,” Rachel added, crossing her arms. She tossed her head in my direction. “Your power’s no good for fighting?”

She said it somehow like both a question and a statement. I shrugged. “I can bite people. I, um, haven’t really experimented with it that much, but I think what type of bugs I turn into is sort of affected by what kinds of bugs are nearby, so if we had a bunch of, I don’t know, bees or venomous spiders, I might be a little more helpful in a fight. But like I said, I’ve never really tried it.”

I wanted to. I’d tried collecting bugs with my Master power, but I didn’t really have anywhere to keep them, and I was sort of nervous about hiding stuff in the house since I knew the rats could get in without me knowing. It was part of the reason I never tried making a costume.

Lisa tapped her chin in thought. “The boss could get us a lot of bugs. You could store them here in the factory. And even if it turns out they don’t affect your Breaker power, you can still control them, right?”

And that was how I ended up with several containers of bees and spiders in the loft a few days later. And a proper mask, but the bugs were a little more pressing. What was I supposed to do with all these things?

The heist went a lot better than I thought. Tattletale’s power really helped us get the timing down.

Or, the boss’s power? She had us pause at a few points on the boss’s orders, but it worked out, so I didn’t really question it, not after the fact at least.

Either way, the whole thing was timed out perfectly. There wasn’t a way to avoid setting the alarm off, supposedly, so everything was timed so that we’d have enough time to get out and far enough away before anyone could respond to it. If it were regular cops who responded, we’d be fine, and I could keep them back a bit while everyone else retreated to the vans on the dogs, but there would be trouble if we got spotted too soon and the Protectorate came first.

We didn’t even need Bitch’s dogs to come in, though. A swarm of bees was enough to keep anyone who might’ve tried to stop us away, and Tattletale, Grue, and Regent were able to load the goods onto the dogs’ backs and retreat without a hitch.

I lingered a bit, keeping people distracted, and they were already in the van by the time I arrived, the dogs shrunken just enough to stuff into the back of the car. I reformed between Regent and Rachel in the back, dropping my Breaker state, and grinned, exhilarated. “How are things looking?”

“Good,” Grue responded from the driver’s seat. “Going to the hand-off point now. Unless we need to lay low somewhere first, Tattletale?”

“Getting nothing from my power,” Tattletale reported. I saw her eyes settle on me in the rearview mirror. “If you could keep an eye on the area, I’d appreciate it.”

It’d be a pain since we were driving, but I nodded. I still had all the bugs that I’d been carrying when I transformed, mostly bees, and it was better to send them out than to just stuff them all into jars.

“Keep them away from my dogs,” Bitch growled as Angelica snapped at a bee that was close to her face. I nodded and pulled them back. It was no real loss to me if any of the bees got eaten, but I’d seen pictures online of what it looked like when a dog ate a bee, and I didn’t think Bitch would be thrilled if I let that happen to one of her dogs.

“See if anything we grabbed is bugged,” Grue suggested, and I saw Tattletale lean back in her seat a bit.

“I’d know if we got bugged,” she said, but didn’t tell me not to listen to Grue. I nodded again and sent my swarm scouring the van. Tattletale had drilled me on routines like this when we’d first started training. I couldn’t exactly see or hear anything my bugs saw or heard, but I could sort of feel where they were, and that did something for whatever sense I used to see in my Breaker state.

It meant I knew what I sensed, but I didn’t know where it was. “Rat!”

Grue swerved the car a bit, reacting to my shout, but quickly corrected himself. “Geez. Skitter, that’s not really what I meant when-”

“Not an actual rat,” I snapped before he could finish, and I was on my feet. It was dark, and I couldn’t really see inside the van, but somehow the act of looking with my actual eyes made me feel better than looking with my bugs. I trusted my own senses more, maybe. “One of the rat Master’s.”

“Rat Race?” Tattletale confirmed. She was silent for a beat before announcing, “He can track us through it. Stay on the road, Grue.”

“On it,” Grue answered. He didn’t turn or anything, but I assumed he was mentally mapping a new route for us to take.

“Don’t let any of the dogs eat it,” I warned Bitch. “They’re not made of the same stuff as actual rats. I don’t know what it’ll do to them.”

I’d been able to understand it better through my bugs than my eyes, at least the last time I’d sensed any of Rat Race’s minions. They were constructs of some kind, and I wasn’t certain they wouldn’t be able to reconscruct themselves if one of the dogs tore them apart. It’d do us no good if the rat Master had a tracker on us, and we didn’t know it.

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before she gave me a single nod. She barked an order to her dogs, and the three of them lay down, letting me and Regent crawl over them to investigate the back of the van. Regent found it before me, having been a little more willing to stick his hands in the flesh sloughing off the dogs. The rat must’ve thought it could hide in it. Had it somehow managed to get in the dog while Bitch transformed it? I doubted it, but I had a new fear. Maybe I could convince her to let me sneak some bugs into her dogs’ next transformations.

Regent held up the rat, looking a little lost. “What do I do with it?”

“Kill it!” Bitch, Grue, and Tattletale shouted in unison.

“It’s not alive!” Regent argued. “I’m not getting anything from it with my power.”

“Break its neck then,” Bitch growled, and Regent shoved the rat toward her.

“You break its neck, asshole,” Regent snarked, and Bitch snatched it from him. “I’m telling you. It’s not alive. I don’t think we can break its neck.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Bitch responded, but I could see her hands wringing around the rat, slipping off without finding purchase, trying and failing to do any real harm.

“Give it to me,” Tattletale said, and Bitch half crawled up to the front of the van to thrust it forward. Tattletale held it in her hands for a moment, inspecting it, before hitting a button on the door and throwing it out the window. “Problem solved.”

My adrenaline was still racing, though. We hadn’t even seen the Protectorate, and somehow, the rat Master had managed to get one of his rats into the van. How terrifying was that? “Keep the dogs still. I’m going to do another sweep. Regent, Bitch, help me look through the stuff coming off the dogs.”

“Regent, switch with me,” Tattletale said instead, unbuckling her seatbelt. “My power’s better for finding stuff, and yours is better for keeping a lookout right now.”

I hadn’t known Regent had a sensory element to his powers. It didn’t really matter, though. The two climbed over each other, Regent taking the passenger seat and Tattletale joining me and Rachel in the back. 

We didn’t find any more rats, but I had them do a second sweep, and then a third and a fourth, until Bitch snapped that she wasn’t digging through melting flesh anymore, and Tattletale gently told me I was having a bit of a strong reaction. That’d been enough for me to slump over and let Grue take us to the meet-up point with the boss’s men. I was still shaken by the rat’s appearance, but there was nothing I could do at this point. I just had to hope that the rat Master’s power worked the way I thought it did, and the rat wasn’t a sign I was about to lose my new friends to his influence.

“What was that about?”

We ended up getting back to the loft really late, or really early, depending on how you looked at it. I was partially to blame for that, insisting that we hide out at a couple of the points Tattletale had mapped out for us to lay low along the way in the event we were followed. I knew it was probably unnecessary, but I didn’t want to risk the Protectorate tracking us back here.

I didn’t answer Brian’s question because I hadn’t thought it was for me, but Rachel grunted at me and tossed her head in Grue’s direction, and I realized he’d been talking to me. “What?”

“You had kind of a strong reaction to the rat,” Lisa said almost softly. “You got musophobia or something?”

“What?”

“Fear of rats.”

“Oh. No.” I hesitated, and I could tell they were expecting me to explain, but I didn’t. I tried telling people before. Shadow Stalker, I’d told, actually, and she’d still gone and joined the Wards. “It’s nothing.”

Rachel and Alec started to move, seeming to accept that, but Brian and Lisa remained planted where they stood. Grue said, “It doesn’t sound like nothing. If this is something that could affect future jobs, we need to know.”

I opened my mouth, and no words came out. 

“If it’s something personal, you don’t have to tell us,” Brian told me, and in my peripheral vision, I saw Rachel and Alec’s heads whip to look at him. They disagreed. I did too, in a way. Some part of me wanted to tell them, I knew. Some part of me wanted to tell everyone. It was why I tried so many times. But for all the times I’d tried, I’d never succeeded, and that made me that much more uncertain the next time, no matter how strong my resolve was.

“The last time I told someone,” I said slowly, “I got stuck in the psych ward.”

That wasn’t exactly true. I’d told Emma, but I didn’t really want to think about that, especially not after I’d run into her when I’d gone shopping with Lisa. My point still stood, though.

“Oh, you gotta spill now,” Alec said, inching closer to me.

“Alec,” Lisa said in a warning tone, but I shook my head.

“No. It’s fine. This affects the team,” I said, because it did, didn’t it? The rat Master had infiltrated the Protectorate, and then my home, and then my school. What was stopping him from going after my team? I took a deep breath and blurted the words out. “The rat Master is controlling everyone in my life.”

“Rat Race?” Grue confirmed, and I could hear the doubt in his voice. “What makes you think that?”

“I know him in our civilian identities. It’s why I ran away. He replaced my mom,” I said, and I saw a variety of expressions flicker across my teammates’ faces. Pity? That wasn’t right. I felt a flash of confusion before remembering what Shadow Stalker had said when I told her. “Not like that! Like, he literally replaced her. She died two years ago, and she’s back now. He, like, cloned her or something.”

Pity shifted into confusion, and I felt my heart pounding against my chest, waiting for someone to say something.

“Freaky,” Alec said, and then he was walking away. I felt my stomach drop. “I’m going to make a sandwich. You guys want anything while you figure that out?”

“The beef should be done thawing. Maybe burgers,” Rachel said, following him to the kitchen, and I felt myself staring at them. They were being dismissive, but there was an implication there. They were acting like…

“I’m going to get my laptop and a notebook,” Lisa said, and I realized she hadn’t moved yet. Neither had Grue. The three of us were still standing around the entryway. “Go change out of your costumes, and then you’re going to tell me everything. We’re going to map this out.”

I felt something in my heart flutter, and I hurried off to my room. I couldn’t change out of my costume fast enough. They were listening! I was finally going to talk to someone that believed me!

I’d stared at my conspiracy board long enough that it was easy for me to spill all the facts to Lisa and Brian. We sat on the couch, Lisa with her laptop on her lap to double-check all the things I was telling her, and Brian with a notebook to quickly scrawl down all the things I was saying. 

I told them how Mom had been a PRT agent, and how we’d been called to the PRT office when she died, and how I’d seen a strange man standing among the Protectorate members. I told them about how Dad had gotten sick, and how the rats had been in my house. That freaky way they’d turned their heads with Dad’s when he tried looking up at me. How that same man had taken Dad away, and how the rats had flooded the city afterward. How they looked like mom.

“I remember that. My sister was pretty pissed it happened over winter break,” Brian said, and I was a little struck by how mundane the comment was. Also, he had a sister? “They called them the Vermillion Ladies, right? Online at least. Satyrical, Pretender, and Rat Race showed up to help out.”

I nodded. “There was another Vegas cape and two New York capes, too.”

“Kind of overkill for a bunch of rats,” Alec said as he walked into the living room, Rachel trailing behind him. She was eating some kind of sandwich, and the distraction snapped me out of my focus to register the smell of meat. Alec dropped a few plates on the coffee table between us a little carelessly, but he’d gone through the trouble to cook, so I wasn’t fooled by his little act. 

I took the offered burger. “Platinum had also been missing for a few months before that. This was his first appearance as Geode. It’s not important, though. It’s pretty suspicious that a Master that could control rats would show up then, right? And the rats I found in my house were the same as the ones Rat Race uses.”

Lisa’s mouth twisted. “That is pretty suspicious. What else have you got?”

My heart soared at the question. They were listening! They believed me! God, I wished I had my old notes. This had been my life for so long, though, so I knew the details well enough to tell the Undersiders everything that had happened with the Master over the past two years.

Chapter Text

September 2008 - June 2010

It was hard being friends with Taylor.

Most of the time, Emma was okay with it. Taylor was so worth it that it wasn’t even a sacrifice. 

When they were little, Emma hardly noticed it. Emma had other friends, and they would play with them during recess. Tetherball, four square, house, those kinds of things. Taylor was always there, but the others weren’t. Outside of school, it was Emma and Taylor, and at some point, Emma just knew Taylor looked forward to those moments when it was just the two of them more than she looked forward to playing at recess.

In middle school, it wasn’t really a problem either. They had more classes, so they weren’t together all the time, and that meant Emma got to hang out and talk with a lot of different people, then meet up with Taylor during lunch and after school. Emma felt like they were growing up, but they still got to hold onto what they once had.

They were in eighth grade when Mrs. Hebert died. That was when it got hard.

It was hard because Taylor’s mom was dead. Emma knew that. It was hard for Emma, too. Taylor was hurt, and they were healing, but then Mr. Hebert was hurting in a whole different way, and Taylor just… stopped. Stopped healing, stopped growing up, Emma didn’t know. But having Taylor stay at her house was hard.

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have been expecting it to be like a sleepover. Taylor was there because she had to be, not because she wanted to be, and it was like she didn’t remember how to be Taylor anymore. She read the paper like Dad did, and she suddenly wanted to spend all her time online… The rats were scary, sure, but they were safe. They didn’t have school, so they could stay inside, and Mom and Dad were around. They didn’t have to worry about all that stuff.

But Taylor did worry about that stuff, and she kept worrying. Taylor had never been super interested in girls’ stuff, not like the other girls their age were. She didn’t care about starting high school, or fashion, or music, or Emma’s prospective modeling career, or even boy stuff like sports or video games. Or, well, she cared about superheroes, and that was boy stuff. Emma tried to take an interest, she really did, but she didn’t get it. And Taylor was practically obsessed.

Capes were celebrities, sure, but they didn’t do anything, not really. Sometimes, someone like Dauntless or Triumph would be in commercials for new toys, or they’d put their name behind some cause, like Velocity promoting a government-run ESL program, or Battery supporting some women’s rights organization. Emma didn’t care about any of that stuff, though. Real celebrities had products she actually wanted to buy, like clothes or makeup, and they were in the news for stuff like being in a new movie or being in a relationship with someone else important. That was stuff teenagers could actually talk about! 

But no. Taylor wanted to talk about stuff like the Protectorate fighting the Empire, or a new academic paper about New Wave. And there came a point where Emma couldn’t feign interest. It wasn’t even like Taylor was trapped in the past. She was in a lot of ways, but it was secondary to this new, weird, nerdy side of her that was developing.

She didn’t even seem aware of it either. She still went along with the things Emma wanted to do, but she declined Emma’s offers to help her get a new look for high school, and she always made a face when Emma tried to talk about what was going on in their classmates’ lives.

Taylor was her best friend, and Emma wanted to remember that, but she was relieved when Taylor left for summer camp.

And then the ABB attacked, and everything changed.

It was a little ironic that Emma, the one who didn’t care about capes, suddenly had her whole life revolving around a cape. Well, not literally. Maybe a little at first. Sophia was more of a catalyst. She’d saved Emma, and she’d shown her what she could be. She was strong. Independent. She said what she thought, and she wouldn’t just go along with something dumb someone else wanted to do because she was afraid of hurting their feelings.

She was everything Taylor and Emma weren’t. But Emma could become like her, and Taylor couldn’t. Emma would have to leave Taylor behind to do it, but it was well worth it.

February 2011

“Emma.”

Emma hadn’t expected to hear her voice. It threw her a bit, Taylor catching her off guard, but Emma wasn’t the little girl she once was. She might not be a fighter like Sophia was, but she was a different kind of strong. Verbal wit, quick comebacks, and sharp words were her weapons, and she was never without them.

“I didn’t think you’d come crawling back here, worm,” Emma said, whirling around to see Taylor standing behind her. She looked pathetic as ever, practically shrunken in on herself, her thin figure hidden by layers of baggy gray. It was winter, so Emma knew that wasn’t all her doing, but she knew it was at the same time. She’d grown up, and Taylor hadn’t, and Emma had drained the strength from her former friend to better herself.

A dried-out, shriveled-up worm. It wasn’t the best insult, but it was true, and it reminded Taylor of her place. She wasn’t even prey like Sophia would call her. She was something prey ate.

She looked worse somehow. Emma didn’t really know what Taylor’s new normal was, but they’d been friends for most of their lives, and that meant something. Emma knew how she was supposed to look, and Taylor looked like shit right now. She’d meant what she said when she told Taylor she didn’t think she’d come back. Even if she didn’t transfer schools, she thought at the very least she’d take more time off from school. Emma hadn’t seen the aftermath of the locker prank, but she’d heard it was pretty bad.

How Taylor managed to cut her arm, Emma had no idea, but a girl in the classroom Taylor had stumbled into described it as a bloodbath. Only Taylor could manage to hurt herself on a smooth metal box.

“You haven’t had enough?”

“Stop. This is serious,” Taylor said in a voice Emma had never heard from her before, or maybe it was just one Emma had forgotten. It was freaky. Taylor approaching her at all had been really weird, but this was more than weird. Emma saw Taylor visibly inhale. “My mom’s back.”

Emma felt her expression go slack, cold shock splashing over her. Oh. This was serious. She didn’t understand it, her mind still struggling to process the words, but she knew one thing. This wasn’t high school Taylor, the girl Emma had pushed past to become strong, talking. This was… Emma didn’t even know. The girl that had once been reaching out to another girl who had once been. The part of Taylor that remembered the friendship she and Emma once shared, the last part that hadn’t been stamped out, at least.

And she was looking for her counterpart in Emma. Some part of her that had been molded by years and years of loyal friendship.

Emma wished she could say she’d killed every last speck of that part of herself, but that wasn’t true. Emma had brought up Mrs. Hebert to torment Taylor, sure, but this was Taylor bringing her up, and she stopped being some faceless figment she could lord Taylor over with. Taylor was talking about Annette, not her mom. And Emma knew she loved her too dearly to use her name to mess with Emma.

It was so unbelievable that Emma believed her almost automatically. Still, it made no sense. “What? What do you mean your mom’s back? She’s dead.”

Emma knew that, and she knew Taylor knew that. They’d cried together. They’d gone to the funeral together. Emma had helped Taylor write out what she was going to say when their friends and family came together. And after that, she’d tried to help her pick up the pieces and find something that resembled normal again.

And then she’d left, but that didn’t matter. Mrs. Hebert was dead. That was what mattered. And now Taylor was saying she wasn’t.

It was so out of nowhere that, as much as Emma prided herself on her ability to always know what to say next, Emma just couldn’t get her head out of the moment. What did she mean her mom was back?

“I know! That’s why I’m talking to you.” Taylor’s voice pitched in a way that Emma had never heard before. She was really freaked out, and Emma was too. “That’s why I was gone for so long. She showed up when I was in the emergency room with some story about it being a PRT cover-up, and they put me in the psych ward when I didn’t believe her.”

That sent another jolt through Emma. This wasn’t high school stuff anymore. This was real. This was really real.

“Taylor…” Emma started, not knowing what to say, but she didn’t have a chance to figure it out, because Sophia was suddenly there, and Taylor was running.

Emma wanted to… She didn’t know. Snap at Sophia for interrupting them. But she didn’t. She didn’t know if talking to Taylor had just dug up some old, weak part of her, or if she just wasn’t as strong as she thought she was. Emma and Sophia were the queens of Winslow, and she was sure a lot of people would say Emma was the one on top, but Emma knew it was really Sophia who stood above her.

Emma was the queen of the social hierarchy. She had the kind of power and influence that mattered at school. But Sophia? She had the kind of power that mattered in real life. She had a parahuman power, combat training, an athlete’s body, and connections to the Protectorate and PRT, sure, but somehow, when it was just Emma and Sophia, none of that mattered. 

There was just something about her presence. Her attitude, or maybe her personality. It was what had drawn Emma to her in the first place, and what made her still a little enamored. Emma wanted that. And she knew some part of her would probably never have it. She could fake it all she wanted, but she’d never be what Sophia was. 

When it was just the two of them, Sophia held all the power. They never drew attention to it, but Emma was sure they both knew it.

She had to say something, though. Even if Taylor wasn’t what she’d once been to her, there was no way she could just do nothing. She just had to work up the nerve.

Sophia didn’t have that problem, though, so she beat her to it. “What did Hebert want?”

“She…” Emma trailed off, unsure how to say what she wanted to say.

How could she know what to say when she didn’t even know what to think? Emma had time to sit on it, and she didn’t know what happened. Then again, she didn’t have a lot of information. If she was assuming Taylor hadn’t been messing with her, what she knew was true was that Taylor had been hospitalized, and that she believed Mrs. Hebert had risen from the dead.

She mentioned a PRT cover-up, actually, and Emma knew Mrs. Hebert had worked for the PRT, so it wasn’t totally implausible. A lot of things that seemed impossible were when parahumans were involved. It would be so much easier to just say Taylor was making it up or that she’d gone crazy, but that little detail stuck with Emma. Doubt filled her, but there was a spark of belief. It’d been there since Taylor approached her, and once she knew it was there, Emma knew she couldn’t shake it.

She was worried. She couldn’t tell Sophia that, not without being sneered at or her resolve being questioned, but she was worried.

The truth was best. No reading into it, no insights or guesses about what Taylor had meant. If she was going to say anything, she was just going to answer the question. “She said her mom was back. You know the one who died.”

“Oh yeah,” Sophia responded easily, turning away, seemingly done with the conversation. It pinged something in Emma’s mind.

“You know something,” she said, and it wasn’t an accusation, but she felt like the way she said it almost was.

Sophia shrugged and didn’t say anything, but that was an answer in itself. It had to be something with the PRT then. But Emma couldn’t find it in her to ask. Maybe she hadn’t grown up as much as she thought she had.

March 2011

Homeroom was probably Emma’s favorite class, not because she particularly liked hearing the week’s announcements, but because there usually weren’t a lot of announcements, so the teacher gave the students free time to talk and do homework.

That wasn’t the case this week, though.

“You might have heard, but your classmate Taylor Hebert is missing,” the teacher told them, unusually somber, and Emma felt herself freeze. “If you know anything, please talk to any of your teachers or Principal Blackwell.”

The classroom broke into murmurs. Questions confirming who Taylor was, mostly, but some theories and sympathies too. Emma couldn’t join. Maybe if Taylor hadn’t approached her when she came back to school, she would have. She’d gossip with the rest of them, and maybe she’d even see it as a victory, that she’d proved herself over Taylor somehow. Emma mostly just felt bad, though.

Taylor would probably know a word to describe how she felt. She was always reading, so she knew all kinds of words Emma didn’t. The best Emma could muster was that she felt… icky. She wasn’t at fault, but she knew something, and… She didn’t know. Something. The feeling was there, whether or not she could identify it.

She talked to Sophia as soon as she got the chance. “Did you tell anyone what you know?”

Sophia looked a little confused. “About what?”

“About Taylor,” Emma said a little impatiently. “They announced she’s missing in homeroom.”

Sophia shook her head. “The PRT knows pretty much everything I know already.”

The PRT? “So this is cape stuff? Was Taylor kidnapped?”

Sophia looked around, which was a little odd for her. “I’ll tell you later.”

That meant this was PRT stuff, and that meant Sophia shouldn’t have been telling her anything, but Sophia really wasn’t one for following the rules. “After school?”

Sophia shook her head. “I have track. I’ll come by your house sometime.”

That was fine, because there was somewhere else Emma wanted to go after school today anyway.

The walk to Taylor’s house was familiar and foreign at the same time. She hadn’t been here in quite some time.

No one answered the door when she knocked, which was kind of obvious in hindsight. Mr. Hebert was probably at work. Or, wait, no. His daughter was missing. He was probably looking for her or talking to the police or something. His car was there, though, which was weird. Emma hoped he wasn’t, like, inside and unable to answer the door or something. She pushed that thought away.

Emma probably should have left. She could always come back. It was cold, and the porch was uncomfortable to sit on. But she didn’t. One of the neighbors came out to investigate, asking what she was doing, then asking if they wanted her to call Mr. Hebert for her. Emma declined. Waiting was hardly a punishment compared to what she’d done.

She ended up waiting a really long time, though. She texted her parents she’d be back late, and at some point, she had to turn her phone off to save power, which meant no games or social media to keep her entertained. It was incredibly boring, but still, she waited with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

It was dark by the time a car pulled into the driveway. Emma didn’t recognize it. She stood up, but, evidently, it seemed Mr. Hebert hadn’t seen her as he approached the door to his house.

“Emma!” He jumped in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but then she noticed the man walking beside Mr. Hebert. He’d been moving like he was going to enter the house with him. Bald, light-skinned, sturdy… Emma didn’t recognize him. He wore a PRT uniform, but that didn’t tell Emma much.

Mr. Hebert seemed to follow her gaze. “This is my, um, friend. He was just making sure I got home safe.”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you,” the man said a little awkwardly, and he made a move back toward the car. Emma didn’t miss how Mr. Hebert slipped the keys into his hand before the man climbed into the car and pulled out of the driveway.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She was here to tell Mr. Hebert what Taylor had told her. She was having trouble finding the words, though. She hadn’t seen him in so long.

“Do you know anything about Taylor?” Mr. Hebert asked, and he sounded very, very tired. Emma probably should have just told her dad and asked him to call ahead. She’d been worried about how he would react, though.

Emma jolted even though that was literally what she came here for. “Um, maybe.”

Something about Mr. Hebert’s expression changed. Emma realized it was hope, and she felt a stab of guilt.

“Do you want to come in?” Mr. Hebert asked, gesturing a little loosely to the door behind her. “You haven’t been over in awhile.”

Going inside sounded really nice right now, but Emma knew she didn’t deserve it. “Taylor and I aren’t really friends anymore.”

“Oh.” A pause. “I guess I stopped asking. You know, with the bullying and all. There were so many other things I wanted to talk about.”

Emma managed not to cringe, but she didn’t feel proud about it. “A few weeks ago, Taylor told me Mrs. Hebert was back.”

She meant to say more, but she didn’t. There was a lot of weight to what she said. She knew Mr. Hebert would be able to tell where she was going with this.

To her surprise, he nodded. “She is. Sorry, I didn’t think to tell your parents.”

“It’s fine,” Emma said a little lamely. Mom and Dad had been friends with Mr. and Mrs. Hebert, but since Emma stopped hanging out with Taylor, she was starting to doubt that. They were parent friends, not real friends, at least she assumed. They never really sought each other out when their kids weren’t involved, at least as far as Emma knew.

“She’s not home right now. She’s, um, with the PRT,” Mr. Hebert went on as if Emma hadn’t said anything. “Figuring stuff out with the search.”

Sophia had said the PRT was involved, too. “Was she kidnapped or something? Taylor, I mean.”

Mr. Hebert hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, at least. It was like she just disappeared out of nowhere. We have no idea where she could be.” 

Emma had been ready to respond, but Mr. Hebert seemed to deflate suddenly, like he’d been wearing a mask and decided to take it off all of a sudden. A pretty flimsy mask, but the moment he’d taken it off was still obvious.

“I think she might have run away,” Mr. Hebert admitted. “We tried to ease her into everything with Annette, but then she got hurt, and Annette didn’t want to delay it anymore. It really wasn’t a good time, but she thought we’d just keep putting it off forever if we didn’t just rip the band-aid off. I think it freaked Taylor out more than we thought.”

“She seemed pretty freaked out when she talked to me,” Emma responded, and then she realized she didn’t really have anything else to say. “Sorry, I don’t really know anything, I guess. I mostly just wanted to see if what she’d said was true.”

Once she’d said that, Emma abruptly realized that wasn’t really true. She didn’t have anything else to say that was relevant to Taylor being missing. She did have plenty to say about Taylor, though.

Mr. Hebert nodded, oblivious to Emma’s inner thoughts, and Emma could tell he was disappointed. She’d wasted his time and hers. “It’s okay. It was good to see you again, and it’s nice to know someone else cares.”

She felt another stab of guilt. “I’m sure my parents would like to see Mrs. Hebert again if you want to come over sometime. I mean, I’m sure you’re busy with Taylor missing and everything…”

She regretted the offer as soon as she said it, but the feeling faded as something akin to relief settled over Mr. Hebert’s face. “I’m sure Annette would like that. We are busy, but I think she could use a break. We’ve been running ourselves ragged. I’ll ask her and give your mom a call.”

Emma nodded, feeling a little awkward. She’d felt pretty awkward this whole time, actually. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

Mr. Hebert nodded and started to move toward the door before seeming to remember something. “Do you want a ride home? I can’t imagine the bus is still running.”

Emma didn’t say that she didn’t normally ride the bus. She thought about saying that she’d walk home. She’d been planning on it, but it was pretty dark. She’d gotten used to the cold, and some part of her wanted to stew in it a little longer, but she wasn’t stupid. The ABB had attacked her in broad daylight, and Taylor’s house wasn’t in a great area.

“Sure,” she said, and they didn’t talk the whole way home. What did they have to talk about? The fact that they hadn’t seen each other for two years because Emma had been bullying his daughter? Fat chance.

Emma was nervous about seeing Mrs. Hebert again, but she was more nervous about what a dinner with the Heberts would entail.

She had to confess what she’d done. Okay, it didn’t really matter, but it kind of did. She hadn’t been the one to shove Taylor in that locker, but it’d been her idea to put the dirty pads and tampons in there, and she’d been the one to select Taylor as a target during freshman year. Mrs. Hebert had deviated from whatever plan she and Mr. Hebert had to break the news to Taylor gently because Taylor had gotten hurt, and she’d gotten hurt because of Emma’s prank, and that meant this all was sort of her fault.

She was worked up enough that she probably would have locked herself in her room if Sophia hadn’t come over, completely disrupting everything.

“Now’s not really the time,” Emma told her when she arrived, but she still let her in. Mom called out a reminder that the Heberts were going to be over soon, and Sophia raised an eyebrow at that as they walked to Emma’s room to talk.

“They’re coming over?”

Emma nodded. “Taylor and I used to be friends, remember? My parents were friends with them. They wanted to see Mrs. Hebert since she’s back.”

“Creel.”

“What?” Emma thought she might have misheard her.

“Creel,” Sophia repeated as they settled down in Emma’s room, Emma lying on the bed and Sophia taking the chair. “There’s a whole thing with his legal name since he died. Technically, he didn’t marry Annette, so his last name’s the same.”

“What are you talking about?” She was calling Annette he? Emma knew that wasn't right. And what did she mean Mr. Hebert didn’t marry Mrs. Hebert? Emma remembered seeing Mrs. Hebert’s driver’s licence once, back when they were kids. She couldn’t remember why, but her last name was definitely Hebert. And how did Sophia know all this? Mrs. Hebert was a PRT agent, sure, but Sophia was a Ward. Why was she acting so familiar?

Sophia wasn’t grinning, but that was the closest word Emma could think of to describe the look on her face. Something almost elated, but still muted and well-contained. “You’re going to love this, but you can’t tell anyone, got it?”

“I got it,” Emma responded, a little annoyed. She knew the routine. PRT secrets and all.

“Danny’s Rat Race,” Sophia said almost gleefully, and that was absolutely not what Emma was expecting her to say.

“Mr. Hebert?” She couldn’t believe it. He was so… mousy. No pun intended. He was old, thin, and balding. A loser. He was absolutely not superhero material.

Sophia was nodding, some of that excited energy starting to leak out. “That’s not even the best part. Annette? She was- okay, well, it doesn’t really matter, but she was this villain, Diamond. You’ve probably never heard of her.”

Mrs. Hebert? A villain? Emma couldn’t see it.

“She became a hero, though. Platinum. But what’s crazy is that it wasn’t even her! It was Pretender the whole time! He’s got this Master power. Lets him possess people,” Sophia went on, oblivious to Emma’s growing horror. “He and Rat Race were dating, I guess, when Annette tried to kill them. Pretender swiped her body, became a hero, and went back to being himself after he got her killed.”

What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

“Rat Race and Pretender didn’t tell Hebert, though. You know, Taylor,” Sophia said, seeming to pause for a moment, as if calling Taylor “Hebert” when there were two other Heberts was the only problem in all this. “They tried to introduce her to Pretender’s civilian identity, but it totally freaked her out. I’m pretty sure she thought she was going crazy, or like, Pretender was out to get her.”

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

“Anyway, Satyr’s got this cloning power, right?” Sophia went on like she wasn’t saying the most insane shit ever. “So he works with Pretender a lot. That’s where Geode comes from. They decided to give up on trying to get Taylor to know Pretender, I guess, so they used the clones and Pretender’s power to bring Annette back. Kind of fucked up, right?”

“Yes!” Emma exclaimed, finally finding her voice. “That’s so fucked up! How could you not tell Taylor any of that?”

Sophia actually looked surprised. “You're not getting soft on me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Emma said, and she could feel herself backing down with just that single question. She didn’t want to, but Sophia just had that effect on her. One outburst was all she could manage, and then she was cowed. “You’re a hero, though.”

“Being a hero means taking down supervillains. I do that. It doesn’t mean snitching to whelps like Hebert.” Sophia paused, and her gaze seemed to sharpen as she focused on Emma. “You’re not thinking of snitching, are you?”

Emma took a fraction of a second too long to answer, and Sophia was suddenly in her face.

“If you spill, we’re dead,” Sophia said, bending over so she was almost right on top of Emma. “She’s prey, but she’s still the daughter of two Protectorate members.”

Emma, still on her bed, scooted away from her and sat up. “Why would you shove her in the locker if you knew that? That wasn’t like punching her! The school was obviously going to find out!”

Sophia leaned back and tossed her hair out of her face. “Boundaries are meant to be pushed.”

“You’re on probation!” Emma exclaimed, the words escaping her mouth before she knew they were there. It wasn’t something that Emma thought about all that much, but it was true. Sophia did stuff that broke her probation all the time. As scary as that night she’d called her for help was, Emma always thought Sophia’s whole vigilante-in-the-Wards thing was kind of cool, and it was exciting to be a part of all that. Right now, it just seemed stupid. “You have to know you’d end up in jail if you got caught.”

“It’s cool. Blackwell cares enough about having a Ward at Winslow to lie to Satyr, and my case manager’s got too much riding on my career to look too close.” Sophia dropped herself back down in the chair and leaned back. “Total bullshit, she gets a cut of my merch sales, and I don’t until I’m eighteen.”

Emma couldn’t believe that was what Sophia was thinking about right now. “And you never will if you end up in jail!”

“Chill,” Sophia said, and Emma saw the moment she stopped being Sophia and started being Shadow Stalker. “I’m serious. If you spill, I’m fucked, and don’t think I won’t drag you down with me.”

It was wrong. Emma never cared about that kind of thing before, but she knew it was wrong. She wasn’t strong enough to say no, though. “Fine.”

When the Heberts arrived, and Mom called Emma downstairs, Sophia came with her. Mr. Hebert and Mrs. Hebert recognized her, gazes locking on her and looks of surprise flashing across their faces. Sophia nodded to them, and they nodded back, and that was when they stopped being the Heberts. This was Rat Race and Pretender.

Sophia left, but Emma hardly noticed. She didn’t recognize the man and woman in front of her. Man and man? The fact “Annette” was a man in a woman’s body hardly mattered right now. She’d never known Annette. It’d always been Pretender. How fitting of a name. 

And Danny, what a rat. Pretender was a liar inherently, but Danny had been there the whole time. He hadn’t told Taylor his- what, husband? That his husband had killed her real mom, and he hadn’t told her that the person who had actually…

This was all too confusing. She’d felt sorry for Danny when they’d talked in the driveway, but her sympathy was gone now. This was all too messed up.

It was fitting that Emma was sitting around a dinner table with them then. She’d planned on confessing to the bullying tonight, and she still could have, but the thought had long since died. Taylor had a fucked up life with or without her. Emma had hardly been a speck in how fucked up it was. Digging herself into a hole wasn’t going to help with that.

The next time Emma saw Taylor, she was in a clothing store, one of the ones she always tried to drag Taylor to, but Taylor never wanted to go buy anything from.

She was with another girl, and Taylor didn’t look like she wanted to be there, but she didn’t look like she wanted to escape either. They were talking, and the girl was holding Taylor's clothes, and Taylor looked… happy? At peace, at least. Better than Emma had seen her in years.

Their eyes met, and Taylor looked terrified. She fled, and the girl she was with went with her. Emma didn’t move to go after her.

“You see something good?” one of Emma’s friends called out, realizing Emma wasn’t walking with them anymore.

Emma shook her head and tried to turn her thoughts back to spring blouses and cute sweaters. “No. It’s nothing.”

She kept walking, and she tried to push thoughts of calling the police or the PRT hotline from her head. Taylor seemed fine. She was better off with whoever that girl was than she would be with her parents. After everything Emma had done, it was barely a kindness to let her have this.